(SHORT
STORY)
By
JOGESH DAS
(Rendered
from the Assamese by the Author)
Narayan
came out of jail after six months. His father and mother treated him with love
as before; they did not turn their faces away as from a thief or dacoit. That
day it was quite a sensation in the tea garden. Narayan’s father bought a
chicken on credit. His mother had kept a pitcher of rice-beer ready. During his
six months’ stay in jail he regularly got letters from his father, once a week.
His parents loved him so.
Six
months before, they had man-handled ‘Burra Sahib’,
that is, the garden manager. There was a clash between the ‘Burra
Sahib’ and the Labour Union over the hoeing rate. The
Sahib spoke of law and the
Now,
after six months Narayan sat down for lunch in his own home with his father.
They were having chicken fry and drink. The curious children of the
‘coolie-line’ collected round him to see what the jailed one looked like. He
told them he did not go to jail like an ordinary thief, but like Gandhi Maharaj, fighting for a good cause; even in Vilayat (
Narayan
took all the tidings of the garden as he sipped his drink. The ‘Burra Sahib’ had been transferred. The Labour
Union was there with Riday Chowkidar
still as its President and Mohan the Dakwalla as the
new Secretary. Barbarua came from the Circle Office
as before to decide this case or that. And Narayan had lost his factory Job for
good. That naughty girl of their Line, Anjana, had a
little son now. The rumour was that the boy was from
the Godown Babu. Anjana was now living in Line Number Seven with Bibhishan, that madcap of a man for a harmonium. Ramlal the drunkard one day beat his wife to death and was
now in jail. Saraswati had been given in marriage; Lal
Sing was one day discovered dying while abed, poor dear old man. Bhagawan and Vishnu did not come back to garden work. They
learned mechanic’s work during war-time: Bhagawan now
drove a contractor’s lorry and Vishnu worked in a motorcar repairing shop.
There was no fish in the river this time; Narayan’s father could catch only a
small ‘Boal’ in a whole night; Lal
Sing’s little son caught rather a big tortoise with
his rod.
Narayan’s
father observed, “What trash they are giving with the ration! Mustard oil you
can’t take. Rice is just rotten. We hear money will be paid instead of rice.
That will be very hard, you can’t find rice in the bazar.” His mother added, “And the molasses is just soil.”
Narayan
went to jail in the pruning season; now plucking was in full swing. This was
the earning season; on a rainy day one could pluck up to twenty-seven seers of leaf, that is, earning twenty-seven annas
in a single day.
There
was yet another piece of information for Narayan: his mother whispered to him
that Anjana’s sister Ranjana
was still in the Line, unmarried. The Sahib’s bearer, Dubraj,
was trying to marry her and negotiating with her parents. Of course Narayan’s
parents had all along, been trying to dissuade the girl’s parents, because it
was Narayan with whom Ranjana’s wedding had been
settled. It would have been all over had he not been jailed. Now that he was back home, Ranjana must be married
to Narayan.
The
next morning found Narayan in quite a new world. He would no longer stay in a
narrow jail room, no more of sleeping on a dirty blanket. The sun had just risen, its long rays touching the earth. Men and women were
coming out of the Line with baskets on their heads. The Sardars
and Chowkidars were shouting at the top of their
voices to rouse those who were still lying asleep.
Narayan
brushed his teeth with a tea-stem and looked on the women, walking in a long
row to their work. Ranjana was there among them; the
huge basket on her head, and the smaller one inside it, and, perhaps, a pair of
motor-tyre sandals inside the smaller basket. Her
right hand was on the basket and the left swinging on the side. She wrapped
herself with red and white cloths up to her knees, with another piece of cloth
over her blouse of Japanese silk. A little bag of areca-nut tied to her fine
waist was dancing as she walked. With a mouthful of unchewn
areca nut, tolerably tall, a bit stout, tanned–that
was what Ranjana was like.
New
hopes and aspirations arose in his heart. This world was very beautiful. There
were many things to enjoy. Bearer Dubraj to marry Ranjana! Why should Narayan allow that?
Circle
Secretary Barbarua was right to say that the labourers were deprived of many good things which they were
supposed to have enjoyed. The National Government was trying their utmost to
better the condition of the labourers. That was very
good. Narayan had roamed from garden to garden to help Barbarua
organise meetings and form Unions. He had read up to
the Third Class and so was made the Secretary of their Garden Union. He wanted
to fight for his brethren’s uplift. That was why he was not sorry to go to
jail, even though he was not in league with others in assaulting the Sahib.
Today Ranjana kindled the fire of hope in him doubly.
After
tea he went to the office. He would enquire if he would again be given a job.
He could not remain an outsider and work in the
The
other five who were jailed with him also were present in the office to look for
work. As Narayan approached them the ‘Burra Sahib’
came out of the office. The oldest among them accosted him and, saluting, told
him what they were after. The new ‘Burra Sahib’,
unable to understand them, called for the head clerk for explanation. But after
being apprised of the situation the manager then and
there informed them in a curt tone that there was no work for people who were
intent on assaulting Sahibs.
The
manager drove off and the head clerk humorously–well,
it was bitter humour–said,
“Hello leaders, Sahib won’t give you work. You’ve turned Communist. If I beat
you, surely you don’t give a morsel.”
They
came out of the office, depressed.
Narayan
went straight to Mohan Dakwalla, the Union Secretary:
let him see what the Labour Union could do for him. Riday Chowkidar, the President,
was also with Mohan. They were busy drafting some resolution. Narayan
approached them and explained all his and his friends’ difficulties. But the
Union office-bearers in return informed him that it was plucking season, time
for the labourers to earn money. If some sort of
disturbance were to follow, the labourers would be
losing. They would certainly rebuke the
He
was morbidly sorry. It was a great shock to him. Who knew he would be so
ill-treated?–and ill-treated by those for whom he did not mind even to embrace
jail-life too. Narayan decided to go to Barbarua. The
Circle Secretary was sure to help him.
As
he passed by the employers’ quarters, he thought of going to the Tea House Head
Babu. This Babu was very
fond of him. When Narayan was made the Union Secretary, the Babu
called him to his quarters and told him of many necessary things and spoke of
Gandhi, Nehru, and other big leaders.
The
Babu’s children were playing in front of their house.
As soon as he approached them they shouted, “Here’s Narayan, the Sahib-killer. Hei Narayan, jailed one!”
Oh
God, it was disgusting. He turned homeward, miserable at heart. People all over
were rebuking him, for no other reason than that he fought for them. But he was
no thief, he was no hooligan. Then why were these people so harsh? Would Barbarua also do the same? No, Barbarua
was not such. He was a good man, and kind-hearted too. He was his last hope.
He
trod towards his Line, with a heavy heart. He saw Anjana
and Ranjana. They were sitting to their meal on a
narrow path-way among the tea bushes, not very far from the main road. Seeing
him that naughty elder sister, restlessness itself, spoke aloud, “Hei, O Narayan Bhai, back home? But when? Please come here, do please, and have a cup of
tea!”
Well,
his sad face had to beam with a smile. He went to them and sat down on Anjana’s umbrella. Ranjana was
grave, now a bit graver still, Narayan being near. But the talkative Anjana went on chattering and chattering, asking all about
him, about how he felt staying in the jail and so forth. He was greatly
relieved of his sadness. He happily sipped the cup of tea.
Anjana said, “Well
Narayan Bhai, now you must finish with the marriage.
What do you say, Ranjana?” Her sister raised her hand
to hit her and said, “you bitch.” Anjana
burst out into a laughter. Ranjana
got up and began to clean the cups and plates with a piece of cloth. She seemed
to be vexed.
Anjana too cleaned up hers
and said, “I have had a little kid, you must have heard, Narayan Bhai? That Godown Babu is very wicked.” What a shameless girl this Anjana is, he thought. “You remember our Bibhishan, Lord Rama’s follower?
Ah, he can play the harmonium so nicely. He saved money for months to buy the
instrument, breeding and selling poultry. Some day you will find my son a great
musician.” No, the
girl had no trace of shame left in her.
From
another part of the plantation a boy, bearer of Anjana’s
child, cried aloud, “The child is hungry, sister Anjana.
You must come here.” Anjana picked up her bundle of
utensils and the smaller basket and said, “Narayan Bhai,
my kid is crying. I am also heavy with milk. I must go.” And she left.
Narayan
turned to Ranjana. “Well Ranjana,
you don’t speak to me?”
She
could not resist a smile, but hurriedly turned away her face and tried to be
grave.
He
asked, “Did you hear that I was coming?”
Her
reply was brief, “Heard today.”
“I
must be a lucky fellow then, that you have heard of
me.” She said nothing, even did not look at him. He said, “Got a pan with
you?”
Ranjana gave him a pan,
a little tobacco also with it. He began chewing the pan and then
said, “I have heard, bearer Dubraj is talking to your
parents about you.”
She
kept mum, gazing at the ground. “Am I correct, Ranjana,
or am I not?”
She
forced herself to say, “I don’t know.” And she picked up her things and went
away into the green tea bushes.
This
was not at all encouraging for Narayan. He was again sad. Even Ranjana did not understand him. She seemed to pine for the
bearer Dubraj. His hope was then to be shattered? And
Ranjana was his last straw. He came out to the main
road.
Anjana was plucking tea
leaves under a huge tree, a bidi in her
left hand and the right busy upon the leaves. She was all frivolity,
cutting jokes with the overseer. When she saw Narayan, she stopped laughing and
said, “Narayan Bhai, come to our line tonight, will
you? There will be chicken curry, liquor and you will be listening to the
harmonium.” Narayan forced a smile and went away. Ranjana
was busy plucking two leaves and a bud, she seemed to
be absorbed in her work.
In
the afternoon he went to the Circle Office. All his hopes rested
with Barbarua. He went into the office. A clerk who
was typing in a corner asked him to sit. He enquired after Barbarua.
Barbarua
was out in a distant garden where there was a labour
strike. Barbarua, a busy man, was gone as soon as he
was informed of the strike. Narayan felt he was greatly relieved as he sat on a
chair: here at least he was equal with others.
Barbarua came. His face was aglow–whether with heat or anger was not to be known. He went straight into his living-room through the back door, without talking to anybody. The two men who came with him, perhaps some labour workers, sat down near Narayan.
A
little later the Circle Secretary again came out into the office room and took
his seat. He was still aglow. He now saw Narayan and asked, “What is the
matter, Narayan?”
Narayan
slowly narrated all that was the matter. But of a sudden Barbarua
became incensed and roared at Narayan, “You know nothing but fighting and
beating. Here assault a Sahib and there a babu and
fight among yourselves. There in that garden some tea was stolen and the police
on suspicion arrested the keeper. Now today the men have gone on a strike and
surrounded the manager. This is what you are for. Be off, I can’t do anything
for you.”
Narayan
gently said, “I was not for assaulting the Sahib, Secretary. The
But
Barbarua was too heated to be cooled easily. He”
said, “Why did you, the Secretary, allow them to assault a person! You’ll make
me mad. You may go now.”
Narayan
came out. At last Barbarua also had refused to help
him. His jail-going was of no avail. Perhaps he would not be able to find for
himself a morsel of food now. Nobody wanted him. Everybody was
hating him: his co-workers, the Head-clerk, the babu’s
children, Barbarua–to some extent–and Ranjana.
But why? He knew, and so did
everybody, that he was not wrong. Then why? Big tears
rolled down his cheeks.
When he reached the line it was already dusk. He went straight to Ranjana’s. He found the door locked from outside. Some one informed him, Ranjana and others were invited by Dubraj for supper.
He
was desperate and made for the line where the bearer lived. The full moon was
smiling in the clear sky, the earth beneath turning silvery. Ranjana was playing with a group of children under a neem tree. The children formed a circle, and Ranjana, sitting amidst them, was singing a song about
water. A loud humming was heard, brought about by all living in the line; some
were cooking, some drinking, some gambling, some fighting, and some reading.
Narayan
went near the playful group and called out harshly, “Ranjana.”
The
children stopped short. Ranjana too got frightened.
But she was quick to recognise him and tried to take
heart. “Yes,” she said.
He
scared the children away. They were all amazed to see their dear Narayan in
such a strange mood. They slipped silently into their respective houses. Ranjana knew well that she had to face such a situation.
She wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. She prepared herself for the
worst and waited for Narayan to come near her.
Narayan
came and stood beside her. It was a bit dark beneath the neem
tree. He asked, his voice still harsh, “All of you have come to the bearer’s
house for the night’s meal, what are you at?”
She
remained silent. “Then you have consented to marry him?” he asked again.
She
murmured, “It is settled.”
“But
it was settled with me also?”
“You
had been away
these six months. And I don’t like to die of hunger for anybody’s sake.”
“Am
I unable to support you? Or is it that the bearer has lured you with the
dresses the Sahib threw at him?”
She
did not answer.
He
said, “I shall take you away forcibly.”
“I’ll
drown myself.”
He
was silent for a moment. Then he tried to speak again. But no, he had nothing
to say. He caught her tightly by the shoulder, turned
her about and, pushing her forward, said, “Go away!”
Ranjana looked at him
astonished from the spot to which she was pushed. Then she slowly went away. He
looked on at the moving figure which did not even once glance behind. When it
disappeared into the block of houses beyond, he turned to go.
He
went home, ate something, and again came out. He would not remain in the line, he would sleep the night away in one of the Weathering
Houses. He could think no more of things tonight.
As
he was walking wearily all alone through the plantation, suddenly Anjana flashed through his brain. That naughty girl asked
him to go to her line tonight to drink and listen to the harmonium. He made for
Line No. Seven instead of the Weathering Houses.
The
playing of the harmonium had already begun. Bibhishan
was playing and singing. Two other men from the line were drinking by his side.
Anjana was pouring for them, and she too was
drinking.
“Narayan
Bhai!” she greeted him with eagerness, “You have
really come then?” She gave him a seat and made him sit comfortably. Bibhishan, still singing, bent his head by way of greeting
the newcomer.
In
front of the room assigned to him from a long block, Bibhishan
himself had built another room and here they were drinking and singing. In a
comer fire-wood was heaped and in another a few poultry were covered with two
plucking-baskets.
Narayan
began gulping cup after cup. Anjana, very fond of
him, was pouring for him and also every now and then serving him with plates of
chicken fry. Bmhishan kept on singing all sorts of
songs–Hindi film-songs, Bengali and Assamese record-songs and Kirtan. ‘The other two men were busy with themselves. And Anjana, in between her sipping from a cup and serving
others, was heartily talking with Narayan, who was of course not prone to talk.
When
the liquor was exhausted and the two men gone, Narayan was tottering. Anjana also was drunk, but she was careful. Bibhishan was asleep. Anjana’s
child had slept long ago.
Supporting
himself against a wall Narayan said drowsily, “I’ll go home.” Anjana put her hand on his head and said kindly, “You won’t
go home at this hour of the night, Narayan Bhai.”
You’ll sleep here. I am giving you a bed.” She spread a big hessian cloth for a
bed and he lay down there. Anjana made a bundle of
rags and clothes and slipped it under his head for a pillow. “Anjana,” he called.
She
put her left hand on his forehead and responded, “Yes, Narayan Bhai.”
He
caught hold of her hand, but remained silent. She thought she smelt a rat, and
again said in as soothing a tone as possible, “What is the matter, Narayan Bhai?”
Suddenly
Narayan’s head slipped onto Anjana’s lap and he broke
into loud sobs. She was really astonished now, but trying to be careful she
began to pat lightly on his head to console him. “What’s wrong with you,
Narayan Bhai?”
In
between sobs Narayan said what was wrong with him. “I am done with, Anjana. I was jailed, but they are now saying bad things to
me. There is no work for me here–our Labour Union and
the Circle Office won’t help me. And Ranjana, Ranjana too...” He could not finish the sentence.
Anjana held him with both
her arms and pulled him towards her bosom. “Narayan Bhai,”
she consoled him, “Narayan Bhai, it is of no use
weeping. The world is like that. Do them good and they will forget you. But
never mind that. They will not always forget you. See, I am not forgetting you.
You were always a good boy and you will always remain a good boy. They must
come back to you, Narayan Bhai. Let Ranjana go, a better Ranjana will
come to you, and I myself shall bring her.”
For
a few minutes Narayan lay sobbing in Anjana’s arms.
He was really consoled by her–she that was so wicked, so naughty a girl. He
felt relieved and slept in her lap as if in his mother’s.