THE HOME OF A JAIL-BIRD

(A Story)

By VARADARAJ HUYILGOL

(Translated from Kannada by YASODA N. BHAT)

The front door of that house is always closed. I can see the door of that house through the window of my reading room. I look that side several times through the window. Many a time my attention is fixed on that door. But I have never seen the door of that house open.

That is a house! Yes, we must call it a house, that is all. The roof of the house is all worn out. The walls are crumbling. The door creaks. Formerly it was a shed for cattle; now it is a home for men! Yes, men must live somewhere.

I do not know who has occupied that house. I have not seen any one coming out, or having contacts with people outside. It looks as though there is no one inside. But it is true that some one lives there.

Some times I used to wonder whether women in ‘Purda’ were living there. But men do not live in Purda. Then I thought some workers or students might be living there. But I could have heard their talk at least at night. It is the sages who live so quietly. But why should they come here, leaving their shady, pensive haunts…..I go on conjecturing, sitting near the window and gazing at the door.

One day my wife brought me news that a woman lived in that house. This made me the more curious. A woman living there all alone, day and night! But I was not in a position to think more about it. I could not know more about it from my wife. How could I ask her about another woman?

Whenever I sat in my room reading, my attention was always drawn that side and it started becoming a distraction to me in my reading. The book would lie open before me, but my mind would roam away, brooding on the door. Even if I closed the window, the same thing would continue.

All of a sudden I saw a crowd in front of that door.

A doctor went in. The compounder and the nurse followed him. A man about thirty years old was with them. He closed the door and disappeared inside. I was simply gazing.

For fifteen minutes there was a noise going on inside. I could not hear the talk distinctly. But I could guess that some one was ill and very seriously too.

The doctor came out. He was smiling. The nurse and the compounder came running after him. But the man who was thirty looked grave. He looked as if he was very much puzzled and worried.

The car was waiting for the doctor by the roadside. The doctor got into it and it was about to start. The nurse and the compounder occupied the seats at the back.

The man bowed and in a humble tone said “What is to be done, doctor?”

“What can I say? The case is very serious. Every injection will cost about fifteen rupees. An operation may be necessary.”

“Doctor, you must do it somehow! It is a noble deed, a meritorious act.”

“A noble deed, all right. But if I go on obliging everyone...?

“Doctor, I am a poor man.”

“No, I can’t do it.”

“It is a question of life and death, doctor! That is why we have come to this town. We heard your reputation and came here…..I shall pay you.....I shall pay in instalments…..I shall pay, doctor, believe me!”

“How much will you pay now?”

“I shall pay rupees fifteen to start with.”

“Fifteen rupees! The expenses may amount to a hundred rupees. What can be done with fifteen rupees?”

“All right, I shall pay twenty. I shall come to your dispensary and pay it.”

“All right, then. Note down.”

“Name?” asked the compounder taking out the notebook.

“Chandrakant…..”

“Your surname and age?”

“Kallur…..age thirty.”

“Your wife’s name?”

Chandrakant hesitated a little. The nurse said “I think it is Shanta.”

“Yes” said Chandrakant.

The car disappeared behind a cloud of dust. While returning home, Chandrakant was tottering on his knees. He felt as if his limbs had lost their strength. When he opened the door and was about to step in, he cast a glance at my window. I turned my face in another direction.

That door was once again closed.

The door was closed as usual and there was no way of knowing what was going on inside. I made out that those people must be in trouble. I dared not go up to the door and talk to them myself…..

Those were moonlight nights. The clouds were all scattered away. The sky was crystal clear. The moon was there high on the Eastern sky smiling and gazing at the earth. The very touch of her rays delighted the earth. Such nights are very rare in monsoon.

I was sitting near the window enjoying the rare beauty of moon-light. The big clock in the tower struck ten. In a house nearby, the radio was on. Its melodious music pleased my ears. The frogs croaked loudly, as if competing with that sweet voice.

Just then I heard the door open. Yes, it was the same door, the door of that house. A figure came out of the house. I could see vividly the colour of the sari and I knew at once that the figure was of a woman. It must be Shanta, I thought, the wife of Chandrakant. Though several days had passed after they had come to that house, I had never seen her.

Immediately I put out the light in my room, for I did not want her to know that she was being watched. I sat gazing at her. The moonlight had touched the very threshold.

She stood there for a while gazing at the moon. She was lean. Her clothes were untidy. Her hair was all dishevelled. Poor woman! Was there no one to look after her?

I wondered what she felt in that calm and delightful atmosphere. She heaved a sigh the next moment. She pressed her head with both her hands.

There was a cry from within. It was like the cry of a child. She wanted to close the door and go inside. But at the very moment, there came Chandrakant. He was in his Khadi clothes. He held a bag in his hand. He came there smiling. Shanta saw him and smiled gently.

When she saw him, she asked him, “What have you done? Have you brought the medicine? Where is the money?”

Chandrakant did not reply. “Look here, I have brought for you the thing you love the most.”

She asked with surprise “What is it? Let me see.”

“Champak flowers. I think our life should be like a flower,” said Chandrakant taking out the flowers and placing them in her hands.

“Oh! What madness! Gone are those moonlit nights now. There is such chaos at home. They asked for rent five or six times. The milkman harasses me. You are never at home. I have to face them all. What shall I do with these flowers now?”

He was shocked to hear her speak like this breathlessly.

“I can bear it all”, she said, “if only you are always at home.”

Both looked at the ground. There was silence.

The cry within was heard once again. They went in. The door was closed.

The next morning, it was tea-time. The stove burned in my kitchen. I could hear the clatter of cups and saucers. I sat in my room, waiting for tea.

I heard the sound of footsteps. I thought that at last there was tea for me and looked up. But it was Chandrakant! I was very much surprised. He had never come to me even once during this long period. I was astonished to see him.

I greeted him. He sat on the carpet quietly. I could see from his face that he had a request to make. But all the while he beat about the bush.

Both of us had tea. We talked about rations, the Congress Government, and the States, for a few moments. Domestic affairs did not figure in our talk.

At last I myself said: “You seem to be in trouble.”

“There is no end to our trouble. It is a miracle that my wife is saved!”

“O God! But why?”

“She was in child birth and in great agony.”

Chandrakant turned his gaze away. Heaving a sigh, he said “It is only the doctor who saved her.”

“What can I do for you?” I asked him.

“Can I get a hundred rupees?” Chandrakant said in a gentle voice.

I kept quiet for a while. I did not know what he thought of my silence.

He looked around. He took out a gold bangle from his pocket and said, “This bangle weighs a tola. Let this be with you. You can return it to me after I return the money.”

He spoke to me as humbly as he had done to the doctor. I felt a lot of compassion for him. If a man does not have money, he has to forget all his sense of self-respect. For a while the figure of Charudatta in Mrichhakatika, who was tormented by poverty, stood before me.

When Chandrakant took out the bangle, I felt very sorry for him. I said: “I do not want your bangle. I shall pay you fifty rupees. I do not have more with me now.”

He must have been overjoyed to hear this. I saw his face flush. It seemed as though he was expressing his gratitude silently. When I took out the money from the cupboard and placed it in his hands, he said “Many thanks. Rarely does one come across persons like you.”

The door closed as before and there was dead silence in that house.

Days rolled on. One day all of a sudden, we had a visitor. He was very well-built and stout. He had a turban on his head. He had an old umbrella in his hand. He walked in without hesitation and sat in a chair.

It was rather queer. For a time I was a little frightened. There was no need for me to put questions to him. He started talking to me himself in his peculiar tone.

“I know everything about you. You may not recognise me. I am the elder brother of Chandrakant.” Having said this he wiped his face. “Will you please give me some water to drink?” he asked.

“You seem to be tired. I shall offer you some tea.” I said.

“Yes, that will do. But first give me some water,” and he added “Look here. I am not reserved by nature. I have to wander from village to village. If I am formal in my behaviour, I will have to die of thirst.”

I got some water for him. Tea was being prepared. I also sent for some tiffin.

“You say you move from village to village. Are you a village-clerk?” I asked him.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “I am a village-clerk. I have two or three villages under my jurisdiction. I have come to talk to you about an important matter.”

I remained silent. “It is about Chandrakant,” he said.

He looked around for a while and then whispered:

“Has he taken any money from you?”

“Yes, he has borrowed fifty rupees from me.” I told him.

“That is why I say he is a rascal–a great rascal.” He struck the table with his hands.

I was puzzled and kept quiet. He continued:

“He got married...Then there was the political movement and he went away. His wife is a delicate doll. She is a weakling.”

I wanted to interrupt him. But he was getting wild and so I had to keep quiet.

The visitor proceeded. “To tell you the truth, Chandrakant has ruined our family. Because he went to gaol, all our property is confiscated. What has this Congress Government given him?”

By the time he asked this question, tea was brought in. “Would you like to have something to eat along with tea?” I asked him.

“O! I don’t mind. Did I not tell you before that I am not formal?”

My guess was correct. It was good that I had also sent for some tiffin.

Again he said “Now just see, he has left his home and walked out. But has he got any job? He never listened to us when we asked him to work as a “Talathi.” He never listens to elders. This won’t do. He just wanders from village to village. No one knows anything about his work. Should he not talk about it even to his mother? He goes on telling lies. He is mad after this social work. He has a craze for politics. He roams like a cat. Oh! we are all fed up with him. Now he is in debt. That is an additional botheration. All the gold ornaments are gone. Has he pawned anything with you?”

“No, nothing” I said.

He said: “He has informed mother that he has pawned the gold bangles. What a lie! Those are the bangles of my wife. I had passed them on to his wife. Rascal! This is a pretext for not returning the bangles. My wife is dead. So he thinks I have no need for them.”

“Is your wife dead?” I interrupted.

“She died within a year of Chandrakant’s marriage. The coming in of his wife was not auspicious. She did no work after she came to her mother-in-law’s house. She used to sit like a statue. The burden of the entire household fell on my wife.”

He stopped for a while and then proceeded:

“One can somehow bear this trouble. But how is one to tolerate Chandrakant? My mother is on the threshold of death out of worry for her son. That is why I have come now….When he was busy with the Movement, I used to look after everything. Everything was going on smoothly. Just see what has happened now. I cannot stand the very sight of his face. I do not feel like stepping into his house. Just take this simple point. Could he not send his wife for delivery to our place? Is our mother dead?”

He was about to go. I requested him to stay on a little longer. But he did not listen. “You are busy. Why should I waste your time?” he said and went away.

I saw him while he was going out. But he did not look towards the house. He did not even cast a glance at it. The door was closed as before.

I call this man only a visitor, because I did not know his name, to the very end. Having listened to all this conversation, my wife observed “You get into trouble unnecessarily.” She was right. I did not know what to do.

The next morning Chandrakant came to my house and asked me, “Did my elder brother come to your house yesterday?”

I said there was a visitor, possibly his elder brother.

“He is terrible” said Chandrakant. “What did he tell you?”

How could I tell everything to him? I simply smiled.

“No” said Chandrakant. “He must have told you something. Did he not ask you about money?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Did he inquire about ornaments?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Just see how terrible he is!” There was agony in Chandrakant’s face.

“What is wrong now?” I asked.

There was agony in Chandrakant’s voice.

“He says that the little gold I have is his.”

“The bangles?”

“Were given by mother and he says they are his.”

“Really?”

“You are good and I shall tell you everything. My elder brother is a bad man. When I was in jail, he even cast an evil eye on my wife.”

His eyes were full of tears. He restrained his grief with great effort and said: “My wife knew how to face him. But we are not going to live there again, even if we die.” He wiped his tears and then proceeded: “I have not studied beyond the secondary school. Who is to offer me a job? I have got this Village Industries job because I took part in politics. I have to roam from village to village. Have faith in me. I will return your money.”

“Chandrakant” I said “don’t worry about the money. Let everything else go well.”

With a heavy heart, Chandrakant walked out of my house.

That night three figures haunted me–Chandrakant, his elder brother and Shanta. They seemed to stand before me and tell me their life-story, the tragedy of saintliness and of crime and of dignified suffering. We live in a free country. But it is good for us to remember the price that millions of our countrymen have paid and are paying for our freedom.

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