THE RIGHT ARM

(A Short-story)

JATINDRA MOHAN GANGULI

It was Rahim’s eighth birthday. His father, Majid, had some land in his native village about twenty miles from Arrah in Bihar. Besides cultivation he reared sheep and supplied the satre to Calcutta. The field produce, a few varieties of cereals, was not enough for his growing family consisting of his old mother, his wife and seven children of whom Rahim was the fifth. His main income came from supply of sheep to Calcutta. He also purchased young sheep and reared in his fold.

That morning Rahim in his new birthday dress was with his father who was selecting the sheep for despatch to Calcutta. The Calcutta trader’s agent was due in an hour’s time. In the meantime a villager came with a lean lamb which he wanted to sell.

“Why do you want to sell it now? It’s so young and thin. You won’t get good price for it. Better let it grow a year older, and then it will fetch you much more,” said Majid to him.

“Yes, I know: but, brother, I can’t help. My little son is sick, and I have no money to buy medicine. So, take it and give what you please.”

Majid gave him ten rupees.

Rahim came along. The little lamb was lovely, with black and white skin. “Give me this sheep, Ba-Ba,” said Rahim, as he put his hand on its back and took possession from the seller. “I shall name it Karim, and let today be its birthday as it is mine.” So saying he took his birthday green cap and fixed it on the longish head of the lamb.

“But on his birthday first give Karim food to eat before you give him the cap to wear. He must be hungry, he’s so lean and weak,” said Majid.

Rahim gently pulled the lamb by the ear and took it on the field where he notched tender green grass and held to its mouth. So he fed it everyday, Rahim was Majid’s most beloved son. Majid was rather surprised to see Rahim’s special fancy to this lamb out of the many sheep he had in the fold, but he was pleased to see him happy with it. Rahim washed it, fed it and played with it. If it rained and the fold roof leaked he took it to his room and made it lie beside his bed. As the lamb grew and gained weight Majid watched with interest. Another few months and it would be a good sale. It already weighed more than the lambs of its age.

A year passed and Rahim’s ninth birthday arrived. The day before, Majid’s wife asked of what about the feast tomorrow? I’ve invited my brother to come with his wife and children.

“You can take a sheep that you like for the feast.”

“Don’t give me an old sheep. Its meat will be tough.”

Next morning Majid went to the fold with his wife, who pointed to Karim and said “Let me have this one.” Majid had already contracted with a trader to sell it at a good price, but she insisted “No, let him choose another. I shall take the best one for Rahim’s birthday feast.”

Her brother with his family arrived. He had brought presents for Rahim, a red-striped shirt and a green cap with a shining little crescent on the front. Rahim was delighted with the cap and said “It will fit Karim very well,” He put on the shirt and with the cap in hand ran to the fold and called “Karim, Karim.” “Ma-a, Ma-a” came the response. Then Ma-a, Ma-a became weaker, and then stopped. Rahim ran faster. Majid, in the meantime, had gripped the lamb and tied it for slaughter. He had the shining knife in his right hand which he was raising. Rahim saw, rushed and cried “Ba-ba, Ba-ba.” Perhaps Majid did not understand what his son meant or did not consider it important. The guests had come and he was in a hurry. He raised his arm with the knife to striking height. Rahim jumped over Karim in a flash to cover it. Majid’s raised arm with the heavy knife came down on Rahim. He was dazed by the suddenness of Rahim’s jump over Karim and could not hold his descending arm. It came down with less striking force than it would have come with on the sheep, but the force was enough to sever Rahim’s right arm from his shoulder. Majid cried out “Rahim, Rahim.” The knife had stuck in the bleeding flesh and muscles of the unconscious boy. Majid’s wife, her brother and others came rushing. “Rahim, Rahim” she shrieked and fainted and fell by the side of Majid. Others lifted up Rahim to take him to the small village hospital. Majid took up the knife again and lifted it over the shivering lamb. “It was for you” he cried madly and his arm came down with ferocious force and severed the head of Karim on which Rahim had come to fix his birthday cap.

After the whole day’s cries and wails Majid had lain down on the field away from the house when none could take him. The night was dark and cold and no breeze blew. “Rahim, Rahim” he called and cried till in fatigue he closed his eyes and drowsed and dreamt. He saw a strange, beautiful land with green valleys and little streams, and so many sheep and deer and many animals freely and fearlessly moving about, and so many birds and ducks on trees or by the stream-side. But he saw no man there. He looked around and then saw in the distance a lamb with a green cap on its head. It was Karim, he recognised, and behind it he saw Rahim running, but Rahim was without his right arm. Rahim was so happy, and so was Karim. Then Majid saw more men coming and going, but they were all without the right arm. They moved about near the birds and animals, but the birds and animals were unconcerned at their approach and even exchanged happy glances with the men whom they feared in this world but did not fear in that strange land. Majid wondered what world was that which he saw before him. He wanted to ask, but none came near him and he could not speak aloud. He gazed on in wonder. Every creature here was happy and without fear. And so was man, but he was without the right arm with which in this world he hit and struck and killed birds and animals and his own specie too for fun, sport, food, power, money, land, and what not. Majid tried to call Rahim but his voice did not come out. He wanted to run to catch him but his legs did not move.

When Majid opened his eyes under the hot glare of the sun all his grief, pain and agony returned as violently as before. He closed his eyes again and wished to go to the world where he had seen Rahim and other men all without the right arm, and where all were happy and none feared the armless man. “O this arm, this arm, with this I cannot go to Rahim”, he cried out fiercely, and lifting his right arm straight and stiff he bit it hard to cut and fell unconscious on the ground, the bleeding arm falling loose on the side. In pain and agony he groaned, but his arm stuck on to his body and away and away receded Rahim in the fading vision of Majid.

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