The Out-House

(A story)

 

BY MUNIMANIKYAM NARASIMHA RAO B.A., B. Ed.,

The Hindu College; Musalipatnam.

 

(Rendered into English from the Original Telugu By Y. S. R. CHANDRAN, M.A., LL.B.,

Lecturer, The Hindu College, Guntur.)

 

I

 

My wife and children left for my father-in-law’s. She proposed to return within a fortnight. For such a short period I thought it would be a waste to do otherwise than carry on preparing my food somehow, though clumsily and often scalding my fingers.

 

The day after my wife had left my aunt arrived. I bade her a hearty welcome, not. without a selfish motive, for I saw in her a providential solution of my domestic inconvenience.

 

To my great surprise she declared that evening, “I must be leaving by the morning train”. She brushed aside my protests that it was hardly time yet for thinking of her departure, that her “daughter” and children were expected in a day or two, that she ought to see them, and so on.

 

“I should not have moved from home but for a grave matter. The importunities of Kamalabai! Could anybody resist them? I came here to fetch an exorciser for her. I have already fixed up with him, and we must be going tomorrow.”

 

The word ‘exorciser’ made me prick up my ears. “Here is some game”, I thought. I wanted to chaff her on her simplicity and plied her in a mock serious vein, “The ghost! Wherefrom? The cursed thing!” She innocently replied, “We know next to nothing of them, the spirits, but are painfully aware how relentlessly it has been haunting the house”.

 

I snapped in, “Tut, Tut! They shouldn’t have admitted the wicked thing inside, and should not have put themselves in the parlous situation of the Arab while the camel with its long neck was ejecting them out of their tent. They should have been firm at the outset and turned it out.”

 

“The spirit is as insubstantial as air, my boy, and more shrewd. It may not venture in while we are standing guard.”

 

“Then it must be a sneaking spirit,” I commented. My aunt, evidently annoyed at my banter, flared up, “No use talking of spirits to the English-educated. You are hard to convince, and you treat the existence of spirits as a hoax. They are invisible to the naked eye. But should we believe in things vouched for by the eye only? We don’t see the air, but don’t we feel it?”

 

I enquired, “What harm can a spirit do, even if it exists?” “Good God! You talk as if butter would not melt in your mouth. Why? It upsets every thing; opens the very hell on you. Probably you will not believe what these eyes have seen. While I and Kamalabai were chatting together the d……d thing stole behind us and gave a thumping blow on the back.”

 

“It should have adopted a gentler method of wooing. Kamalabai is a beauty, and it should have kissed her instead.”

 

“She fell down unconscious like a tree shaken by a violent wind. She is having these fits ever since.”

 

“The fits may be due to a distemper.”

 

“Distemper, indeed! She doesn’t look it. She is as sound as a log, except for those cursed fits, which come on towards the evening. The spirit has become both a nuisance and a menace in that house. None can live in it. It creates such weird creeping sounds in the stillness of the night, jangling the brass-ware…….”

 

“Aren’t the rats responsible for such sounds?”

 

“It’s fantastic to explain away things like that. All the brass-ware in the house–one would fancy from the noise–has been lifted up in the air and dashed to the ground. Ah! You wouldn’t believe it. While we were all discussing together, right into our midst, without hitting any one of us, descended with a deafening noise a huge vessel. It has, of late, been proving a nuisance. God knows wherefrom it collects all those bricks. Its latest freak is, it fills the house with rows of them, the bricks. If we remove a heap of them from one corner this day, there would be another the next day. We are straining every nerve to rid the house of this devil. The exerciser may give us a good riddance.”

 

So saying, she slept. She left by an early train the next morning.

 

2

 

I spent a sleepless night. My thoughts dwelt on the spirits. I could not ignore an eye- witness’s account. The English there in the western hemisphere are a highly sceptical lot. But even there some assert the existence of spirits. I began to think of the particular spirit that possessed Kamalabai. I was most fascinated by its ability to fetch bricks, a useful material for the construction of dwelling houses. Bricks are now a bit too costly. won’t it be a blessing to have such a spirit in the house? It would be so useful.

 

I had long been planning to raise an out-house in my yard. If the spirit is obliging, the house can be ready in a trice. There won’t be much difficulty. In hardly a month it can supply the bricks necessary for my house. If still the supply continues I can make a good business out of it. It would be paying, I am sure. I must somehow attract the spirit to my house. I must congratulate myself on the bright idea dawning on me. But how to get at the spirit? That’s a problem. It’s not so impracticable as I feared. I see a way out. Suppose I put myself in touch with the exorciser and pray him to divert the spirit he is driving out of. Kamalabai to my own house. The solution, good in its own way, did not appeal to me on second thoughts. After all, it may be imprudent to divulge this matter to others. The benefit derivable from its services is too tempting for me to sacrifice. I resolved, therefore, to summon it by my own sincere and unaided efforts. My heart accordingly breathed out a fervent prayer.

 

“Ah! Ye spirit at present settled at Kamalabai’s, I bid thee welcome in case thou art disturbed from thy present position. Why shouldst thou stay where thou art so unwelcome! All hail to thee!”

 

My heart beat fast, thinking the spirit might come. But will it? Why not? It may come. If it comes, I will become a favourite of fortune. The spirit which can bring bricks, if it is rightly tackled, can bring even gold!

 

The story of Alladdin hovered over my mind. It was, I thought, a funny story. But now, in the light of what my aunt had told me, it appeared so convincing. If there exists a brick-laying spirit, there must also be a gold-laying spirit. If the spirit live with me and yields me gold, there would be no end to my fortune. I now remembered my wife’s long deferred wish for a gold chain. But, in the first place, the spirit must come-hither. Next it must fetch gold, if not in large quantities, at least in driblets. As the intimacy between us ripens, I can suggest the place where it’s available in large quantities, say the Kolar mines. On assuming this certainty, my mind became a prey to a number of misgivings. There is trouble if the government gets an inkling of it. They may levy a crushing tax which must be paid even after the spirit leaves me in the lurch. If they are able to trace my prosperity to its source, they might specially invite the spirit to fill their treasuries. Therefore–hush, hush,–none should know of this spirit. I must conceal it in my house.

 

Of course, all this is dependent upon the hypothesis of the spirit coming down hither in material shape. The grace of God must crown our desires I lifted both my hands in prayer to my favourite deity of Mangalagiri “Ah Lord! Contrive to get me that wonderful spirit; arrange that it may dwell with me; inspire it with wisdom to avoid its freaks and to do my behest’s, and, if possible, recommend that it should fetch me gold.” I took particular care to stress on the word ‘possible’, because the devil may be frightened out of its wits if these extravagant demands are pressed preliminary to its agreeing to serve me.

 

“Am I counting my chickens before they are hatched?” I asked myself. Wherefrom can it fetch gold in these days, when all the available hordes of it are melted down for procuring the sinews of war?”

 

If gold cannot be had, I must be satisfied with silver. If that too is not available, I shall be content with iron. Iron is by no means less costly these days. Anything is acceptable to me, say, even fuel. Even by fighting way through ever-increasing throngs, I cannot get now a days more than three or four logs. The chief difficulty for the nonce seems to lie in the devil agreeing to come over to me. Then I can avail myself of its services one way or another.

 

Why should it not come? I prayed to God to induce it to come to me. What more should I do? The merciful God of Mangalagiri must have already, “passed orders.” Just then a thought flashed across my mind. I regretted my prayer to Him. What stupid error to ask for the help of that extortionate Deity* who filches His half from a devotee’s offerings. I have committed myself already. It cannot be withdrawn, I mean the prayer, nor can it be transferred to another deity without giving offence to Him. The Lord can easily detect that I shirked giving His dues and therefore changed my loyalty. He may resolve to take me to task. It’s a sin to think such thoughts. I felt duly penitent and at once begged His forgiveness. Every cloud has a silver lining. If the devil is a gold-getter I can with a contented heart surrender a half to Him and grow rich even with the remaining half. But if the devil is a poor thing and gets nothing else but fuel, it complicates the situation. It’s making two bites of a cherry. But let it come first. There’s time enough to think of these and more.

 

3

 

The next night also I continued my soliloquy. The devil, if at all it’s agreeable to my invitation, should accept it now and come over straight to my residence since it will be ousted by the exorciser from there. I was much agitated over the question whether I should keep the door open to receive the spirit; if I didn’t the devil might retire in a huff thinking, “How shabby the treatment he gives me! He knows I have accepted his invitation, and yet he closes the door. I must never cross the door-sill.”

 

I felt I was between the devil and the deep sea. It was doubtful if the spirit would walk in, but the possibility of my being robbed by the thieves of all I possessed loomed in all its horror, if I opened the door of my house, which was situated, most conveniently for thieves, on the outskirts of the town.

 

My mind became a prey to several cogitation’s; and I reached the brink of vexation when, suddenly, I fancied somebody was shouting to me: “How can you become rich, my boy, if you are repelled by a little effort? Effortless ease is not the way; ponder and persevere.”

 

Synchronising with this, a bright thought flashed on my mind. The devil pertains to the invisible species of worms or vermin, which freely float in the air and sometimes settle on our noses. That being the case, it should suffice if I threw open the window and comfortably lie down to sleep.  I can combine hospitality and prudence at one stroke.

 

As I solved one difficulty, a yet greater one showed itself like the great Ravana’s head.* Is it proper to give shelter to a spirit in a residential house? We don’t admit a fellowman if we are not sufficiently acquainted with him. Is it wise then to harbour a devil? It may be the spirit either of a friend or a foe.

 

My brain has become a playground for a tug of war for rival thoughts. I sank down exhausted. I heard the sound of an approaching hackney-carriage. Undoubtedly, something told me, it must be the spirit hurrying down to me. I recollected in this connection the different varieties among spirits; the dhobi variety raising the sounds of the palanquin-bearer, and the priestly variety indulging in Vedic recitations. Possibily, the devil in question specialises in riding hackney-carriages. In a moment the carriage may stop at my door, and the spirit itself enter through the open window. An event either for my good or ill is about to take birth. Fear shook me like an ague: that it is the spirit and not a man; that a man is not reliable, much less a spirit.

 

There was not much time for thinking; something must be done and immediately. I took pen and paper and addressed the spirit: “Esteemed sir! I know little, in fact nothing of you. Relying solely on the good reports I hear of you, I extend this welcome. Your help, your services; I covet. Fetch something valuable and throw it in, preferably gold. I leave everything to your discretion, however. Be assured of my gratitude anyhow. Rest you a while in the lounge chair set out in the open verandah.” I finished it in a minute ran out and put it up on the outer gate yonder. I came back and snuggled up in my bed. A vague indistinct foot-fall, I fancied, I heard. It must be the spirit taking in at a glance the contents of the cold note. My heart had almost burst with a tremor as of a high-powered bomb explosion. I heard the shout, “How idiotic to surrender your house to a vagrant spirit, even if it fetches gold? My first impulse was to throw myself at its feet and abjectly pray for its immediate withdrawal, and forgiveness of my thoughtless invitation. Will it leave me in peace even then? I wonder, But why should it?–rose a countermanding thought. The first impulse was defeated by my natural greed for gold. The thought was as repulsive as dashing a cup of nectar lifted to the lips. Courage is the need of the hour. I must nerve myself to the task. I must not run away like a coward from a rich inheritance: A trial costs nothing. If it gives trouble, then my mind can hit upon a plan for its dismissal.  This gave a quietus to all unfounded apprehensions.

 

“The day broke when I got up. I at once ran out to see, if I could find any traces of the devil’s coming during the night. I saw the note I had put up for it on yonder gate. It was finger-stained, though it remained as I had fixed it. The spirit had evidently read it. So it came, it saw and–what next? I was extremely agitated. I felt carried away by a flood curiosity. I ran out and devoured with my eyes the open courtyard in front of my house. No bricks,–and disappointment stared me in the face. “But what of the thumb-marks on the letter,–no room for despair yet.” Laying this flattering unction to my soul, I ran to the backyard. Lo! Can I belief my eyes? There was a heap of bricks to my unspeakable astonishment. A kind of dumb surprise had set in; I became motionless and still like a monument.

 

4

 

I commenced a bright period in my life, I thought. But what should be my attitude, my line of action towards it? Obviously, this devil specialises still bricks only. I cannot expect gold from it. It would be crass folly to expect anything of the kind, in fact, as ridiculous as it would be for me to ask for shoes in a provision depot and provisions in a shoe-mart. These are days of specialisation. We cannot expect a miscellany of talent anywhere. So it is better that I should be content with what it brings me. If it multiplies the bricks, I can erect a neat tidy house after purchasing the necessary materials like timber, from the sale proceeds of the bricks. I have no ambition to become a millionaire. Nothing of the kind. It’s not my disposition to build castles in the air; on the contrary, I am a realist, cold and calculating. With my head crowded with these thoughts I scrolled out for a while and came back to my house. The fun of it all gives me a thrill when recall the events.

 

But what I admired most was my remarkable self-possession. I have beard of a Derby sweep causing men’s minds to be unhinged; and some even die instantaneously. I stood perfectly cool and four-square at this sudden clap of fortune on me. I felt myself hit hard in one direction, however. If we feel the heaviest sorrow halved by talking of it to a friend, we experience a redoubled joy by telling our friends of our fortune. Here I had to keep all my joy to myself to keep off envious busy-bodies. A day passed; a second and a third followed; and on the fourth, I saw both the back and the front yard filled with countless bricks. I became suspicious. The spirit sometimes may create make-believe. Are these after all mere fake bricks? Is this all an illusion? No, by these hands that touched them, no. They are bricks, hard bricks, glistening red in the sunshine.

 

5

 

I must use up these bricks; if not, the spirit may become lazy. Further supplies may be cut off. My wife will be coming back shortly and I wanted to spring a pleasant surprise on her by erecting an out-house. She would approve of it and admire. She had a poor opinion of me; she thinks I am indiscreet and a spend-thrift. This would make her revise her opinions and make her think that I was all along laying by something without her knowledge. But this continuous supply of bricks may be a rift in the lute; it may betray my secret. No fear! I can bluff that I started a ‘brick-supply business’. I became quite sure that I could also meet her desire for a gold chain. The spirit would never fail in its supply of bricks, and can there be a safe and prettier investment than a gold chain round her neck? Then there are my boys! They have each been demanding a separate room for study. One has taken the hall for the present and the other is shoved into the kitchen. My heart now expanded with pleasure at the prospect of my being able to gratify their desire for separate rooms. The out-house should, therefore, consist of two rooms plus another for the joint use of my three daughters.

 

All material for building a house can be had on credit, except timber, for which I have to pay in hard cash. I resolved to borrow money. Running into debt has no terrors for me. I can clear it off in a few days with the money realised by the sale of bricks. And what will my wife saw on the day she arrives!

 

“Ah me! When did you construct the house? How beautiful! Where could you get the cash? No borrowing, I hope.”

 

Then, in a dignified, cool and nonchalant manner, I would reply, “Fie, fie! Borrowing be hanged! In these days of war, destruction, and crumbling empires, my friends told me it’s dangerous to keep property in fluid state. So I withdrew my little savings and invested them on this house.”

 

“Well done; Well done! You have created some property for our children. I never realised till now how shrewd you are and how foolish I have been to take you for an improvident, indiscreet person.”

 

I did not like to lose further time. I repaired to the bank; withdrew the necessary money and went direct to the best timber depot. It’s not my nature to higgle and drive a hard bargain. I paid down half the amount and promised to pay the rest at home, after taking delivery of the best teak I had arranged to be sent. It was about eight in the evening by the time I was on my way home, supremely satisfied with myself and the world.

 

6

 

A furlong more to my house. But I could see a light beaming from the house. No mistake in this. Clear as anything, the light was streaming forth through the open window. “Hell-fire on it! Is it the spirit? Has it contrived to get in during my absence, and is it having a close survey of the house? My heart well nigh broke at the very thought of it. With slow dragging feet I came nearer and nearer; stood awhile in front of my house an looked up for a minute. I also saw somebody moving about in the house; then the thought dawned on me that my wife had returned with the children; I chuckled within myself and twitted myself for thinking otherwise. I ran inside and enquired. “O! When did you arrive, and why did you not write to me?” She explained that she had arrived a few hours earlier; that she could get inside even during my absence, by means of the duplicate key she had always carried with her; and that she had hastily prepared the food; the children tired by the journey were asleep. Then she enquired “What news?”

 

7

 

She had upset my apple-cart by arriving a trifle too early and unexpectedly. I had thought of taking her by surprise by employing more workmen and presenting to her the fait accompli of a nice tidy house. But I felt robbed of half my enthusiasm by the sudden turn of events. So I resolved not to play the spoil-sport by volunteering information on the matter nearest to my heart. I wanted to try if a fraction of the surprise, if not the whole of it, as, originally planned, could be roused. For the night at least, mum is the word. Next day, the timber man may astonish her. Then it would be time to give her information piece-meal on the relevant points, scrupulously avoiding all reference to the spirit. Not that she would rejoice at my securing such a helpful devil; but purely for selfish personal reasons–that I might not command as much respect as before. Therefore, I should say, “I don’t owe anybody anything. I thought of some work and therefore started a business.”

 

I began, “Now, my dear, I mean fixing up a decent alliance for our daughter, paying the necessary price, of course. In a day or two I shall get you a gold chain of a design after your heart.” She flared up, “ Phew enough of this mockery please! No more wishful thinking! You have hardly discharged the debt on the house and what is it you say? One would think you are expecting a gold mine to open out under your feet.” But I repeated, in a tone of confidence, “You will be convinced by deeds.”

 

By the time I got up from bed next morning I noticed my wife shouting, “Whoever wanted so much timber? It’s not for us. Enquire at the next door.” But seeing that the depot clerk was adamant, she had to raise her voice and repeat, “Don’t you hear? Nobody ordered timber here.” I ran out to her and said in a coaxing voice, “ O! You don’t know. It’s for us; I bought the timber.” She gasped, “What for?” and began observing me as though I had been deranged. Then I told her, “This material is for our out house. The workmen will be coming here shortly. You derided me last night by asking, “Where’s the money? Now what do you say to it. The house will be ready in a couple of weeks. Come along. I shall show you the bricks, lots and heaps of them in our yard.” These words made her look blank. I caught her by the hand and rushed out into the yard paying no heed to what she said, “What, you never breathed a word to me!”

 

But, alas! I was dumbfounded. What do I see there! Not a single brick. On the other hand, I found to my unutterable chagrin a wall rising up between my compound and my neighbour’s and several workmen busy there. I was so confident that the devil would never cheat me. I turned round on her and demanded how she could remain cool as a cucumber when our neighbour was committing daylight robbery by employing a number of workmen and removing all this valuable material from our premises.

 

But my discomfiture was complete when she explained, “Why do you break down like that? How can I prevent people taking what’s their own? Our neighbour’s wife requested me, ‘There’s hardly any room in our yard. Pray allow us to stock our bricks in your yard for the construction of the wall.’ I thought we would lose nothing by obliging her. This morning the workmen have come; they used up the bricks, and, the trifle remaining over, shoved it into a corner of their own yard.”

 

I stood dazed. ‘What! What am I to do with the timber?’ With a hang-dog face I turned to her again and entered a feeble protest: ‘You never spoke of this matter to me.’

 

“No. It was not so important. I must have forgotten. But, I left that very day.”

 

8

 

My wife is a sphinx or minx, I am not certain which. She will not allow her prey to escape without chuckling, “What’s all this muddle? Because they told me beforehand, I thought the bricks were theirs. May be they are ours. I don’t know. You also must have advanced some amount to a local dealer. Has he coolly pocketed the money? What? Tell me.” When she proceeded in such a tantalising manner and produced that ill-fated note I had put up for the spirit on the outer gate, I felt like a criminal caught red-handed and told her as much of the story as I could and as briefly too. But it may interest you to know that she has not forgiven me yet.

 

* The deity of Mangalagiri (Guntur district) swallows exactly half the sweetened drink offered to Him.

*As one of Ravana’s many heads was chopped off, another came up in its place immediately.

 

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