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(Translated by Asrar Chowdhury)
Two weeks back I drew rations
after managing to scrounge up ten takas. Yesterday was the last date for
getting them. I thought if I could somehow unload the children and the
wife on my in-laws’ for a few months, they would at least be able to eat
two times a day. But the wife would not hear of it. Last year when she
had gone to visit her father’s house, she had to put up with a lot of
comments about her lack of jewelry. Finally, after lots of endearments, I
managed to change her mind. The bus fare? I borrowed the bus fare from
Bashu and we started early in the morning. I didn’t buy my ticket. I got
off at Shialda, bought some sweetmeats, and then got on again.
In the bus I tried to convince my wife– stay at your father’s house
for a few months. See if it would be possible to get our son some
medical treatment. My wife didn’t say anything. I tried to comfort her:
I’m sure something will come up in the meantime. She answered me in a
dry voice, “You know all there is to know: Father has retired. Dada is
bearing the burden of the family all by himself. The quarter they are
staying in is also in his name. There are still four unmarried sisters
in the house. I would rather die than have to face Dada…” I bought ten
paisas’ worth of peanuts, handed them to my wife and told her, “Your
father has a monthly pension. He also received a large gratuity. Both of
your dadas have jobs. They are not wanting for anything over there.” My
wife chewed the peanuts and said, “But Father first has to build a
house, then marry off my sisters…and both my dadas have declared they
are doing all they possibly can, that they can’t do anything more.”
Mallikpur. The house is a two-storied government-allotted quarter
right next to the station. Upstairs-downstairs combined are two small
rooms like little caves and a tiny kitchen. Sunlight does not penetrate
into the kitchen. One dugout latrine. No way can anyone inform the
doctor about the condition of feces. Paper boats float all around the
house.
I entered the room on the heels of my wife and children. My
mother-in-law was wrapped up in a piece of cloth, sewing something in
the veranda. On seeing me, she partially veiled her head. I went towards
over and touched her feet. My youngest sister-in-law was wearing a
loose frock. She came and took my son and said to her mother, “Look Ma,
how thin Bura has gotten.” She looked at my wife, “Don’t you feed him?”
In the meantime, everybody else in the house gathered around us. The
youngest sister-in-law said, biting her lower lip, “You should feed him
and fatten him up.” This sister-in-law is the fairest amongst the
sisters. She has failed twice in her class exams and is now studying in
class eight. My father-in-law had asked me to find a B.A.-degreed groom
from a good family for her. I went to the drawing room and sat down. I
overheard my mother-in-law rebuking my wife, “Why did you just land here
without any prior notice? There is no spare room in the house. You
should use some common sense.” I gestured to my wife to give the packet
of sweetmeats to my mother-in-law. We had gotten on the bus without
eating breakfast. I made a motion with my hand as if to slap my belly to
let her know that I was hungry. There was some milk beneath the
bedstead. My son somehow spotted it and drank the whole bowl in one long
gulp. My mother-in-law clutched her forehead with her hands and sat
down, “Oh unfortunate me! I kept that milk for tea!” One of my
sisters-in-law ran to my son and snatched the bowl from his hands. I
think my wife slapped my son on his back once or twice. After we
finished having tea and some bread, my mother-in-law said, “There were
biscuits in the house, why didn’t you serve them?” I looked at my wife
and she brought me two biscuits. Immediately, my two children started
squabbling and then finished off both the biscuits.
My father-in-law entered the room. I went forward and touched his
feet. He slowly surveyed me from top to bottom and then said with a
raised eyebrow, “You look as if you’ve let go of appearances. What do
you do now”? Seeing that I remained silent and kept my eyes on the
ground–except for a “hmmm”— he again enquired, “What is the source of
your income”? I replied, as meekly as possible, “Nothing.” He looked at
my son and said, “You seem to have nearly killed him . Haven’t you taken
him to the doctor”? My tongue slipped and I said, “Yes, I did.” He
looked at me again sternly, “So you don’t have money to buy medicines?”
He remained quiet for a while and then murmured almost to himself, “A
seer of milk every day and gravy of fish curry, that’s what you need to
feed them.” He called out to my wife, “Sadhana, come here, let me take a
look at you.” My wife came and bowed down to touch his feet. Looking at
the ground my father-in-law sighed and said, “Can’t you take the child
to a doctor and at least get him some tonic-fonic?” My wife left the
room. From behind a curtain my fair-skinned sister-in-law hissed at him,
“You have a lot of money. Why don’t you look after the treatment of
your daughter and her husband.” My father-in-law shouted at her to shut
up.
There were sacks of rice underneath the bedstead, row upon row of
them. At one time, I pointed at them and told my wife “If it’s possible
to get even one sack…” My wife made a face and left the room. My
father-in-law also went out somewhere. I turned on the fan and lay down
on the bedstead. My youngest sister-in-law screamed at the top of her
voice to my mother-in-law, “Dada said he would no longer pay the
electric bills. Dada swore a lot when he saw the bill for the last
month. The meter read twenty five takas.” My wife came and turned the
fan off. Outside, the light was blinding. One couldn’t see anything
clearly in the room unless the lights were on. Where could I go? Lying
on the bedstead the smell of rice starch hit my nostrils. I couldn’t
tell if it was coming from the kitchen or from beneath the bedstead. I
have no idea when I fell asleep.
My father-in-law woke me up. I sat beside him at lunch. While we were
eating, my father-in-law said, “You can start doing business of some
sort, can’t you? Look at your uncle. He has a business, now has a car
and his own house. It’s a pleasure talking to people about him.” I ate
so much that it was difficult to move afterwards. It was after a long
time that I had eaten to my heart’s content. When my wife came to me
with betel nuts, I told her, “Is it possible to manage ten takas from
your father? There’s mother back home…” She asked me, “What do I tell
him when I ask for the money?” I answered her, “Tell them, it’s for a
job application, just make up something.” Then added, “Perhaps it’s
better if I leave today.” My wife said, “But mother asked for you to
stay the night. A sadhu is coming in the evening. She wants to get a
talisman from him to give to you.” Hearing this I thought, well, good,
maybe they’d let her stay for a few days.
In the afternoon, I was strolling by myself on the platform. All over
the station, I saw written, in red, blue and black, “Power flows from
the barrel of a gun…armed revolution… freedom…leap forward.” I felt a
bit excited as I read them. A group of youths wearing shirts and
trousers were sitting on a bench arguing about the election. Prickly,
stubbled faces. They were staring at me. I moved to a bench farther
away. After a while, a working-class man came and sat down beside me.
The youths were still looking at me. I was laughing to myself, but at
the same time my heart was also beating. The man asked me:
“Where do you stay?”
“Ashoknagar.”
“What’s the news of the election in your area?”
“I really don’t know.”
“What! You don’t keep abreast of the election?”
“Hmm, I don’t actually live there–a little bit outside.”
Looking at me angrily, after some time, he started to tear into all
the political parties one by one. He looked at me, stone-faced and
hot-eyed, and said, “This time not a single vote will drop into the
ballot boxes here.” Noticing that I was not responding, he asked me in a
grave voice, “Who have you come to see here?” I showed him the Rail
quarter. “That is my in-laws’ house.” “Oh! So you are so and so’s
son-in-law? Why didn’t you say that before? I thought… You can
understand. These days I become suspicious as soon as I see somebody new
to the area. Well, that settles it, you are family…” The man passed me a
bidi–“Here”–and started almost talking to himself with a disprited
face, “This year’s harvest was terrible. The people fought among
themselves and ruined whatever little did grow. You know, no matter what
they say, parties and politics are not for the likes of us poor
people.” Then one of the youths whistled at us.
“That’s my call, I have
to go now.” The man got up and walked over to the men.
It was now evening. I went back to the quarter to find that my
brother-in-laws had returned from office. My youngest brother-in-law,
after consulting books, was giving my son homeopathic medicine. The
elder brother-in-law was writing down household accounts in a notebook
and telling his younger brother, “They cheated you of twenty paisas in
sugar.” He stopped talking as soon as I entered the room.
It’s been quite a while since my eldest brother-in-law and I have
been on talking terms. After dinner I went upstairs and sat down. My
eldest brother-in-law shouted at the top of his voice from downstairs,
“Tell him that those days are gone. It’s no longer possible to feed the
entire family when they come. I have to break my back to earn money.” He
told my wife, “Your children are going to sleep by themselves. All this
flu, coughing is very contagious. I don’t have money now to spend on
medicine.” My father-in-law said, “All right, all right, shut up now.”
My eldest brother-in-law was silent for a while, then started up again,
“How can anybody get a job just sitting around indulging in adda the
whole day? You have to go out and beg people, fall down on hands and
knees. This bugger is useless. The only thing to do is to kick his arse
out of the house.”
I woke up very early. My wife had woken up before me. The maids were
washing the pots and pans beneath the tap in the courtyard. I was
sitting in the veranda upstairs. I overheard one of the maids saying to
somebody else, “So you thought you were the clever one, eh? You thought
you could make molasses by stealing the date juice?” I laughed silently
upon hearing this. Felt like saying–Good morning! Good morning!
My wife returned after washing up and said to me, “Come on, let’s leave while it’s still morning.”
I took her hands in mine and said, “Dear sweetheart, please stay back
for a few days. Have patience with me. Don’t worry, our time will come
one day. Just stay.” She would not listen to me. I tried again, “No use
getting angry at their words. Look, I haven’t gotten angry. Come what
may, they are family, not outsiders. Please, my dear, stay. Listen to
me: Stay.” But my wife wouldn’t listen, so in the end I said, “Make sure
you get some money from your father.” Both the brothers-in-law soon
left for work.
In the meantime, my wife had finished packing. I saw her entering her
father’s room. I spotted the fair-skinned sister-in-law looking on from
behind the curtain to see what her father gave Didi or said to her. She
moved away as soon as I made a coughing sound. My wife left the room
after some time with her fists closed, with my sister-in-law following
close behind. I tried to signal my wife about it, but she didn’t notice.
So then I loudly called my sister-in-law by her name and said, “Do come
and visit us.” This time my wife understood, and quickly left the room.
It was my father-in-law who bought our tickets. After the bus
started, my wife started to laugh, then showed me the bottom of the
bucket bag. I put my hand down and felt rice grains. My wife had managed
to spirit away some rice from the stack beneath the bedstead. I wanted
to hug her tightly and kiss her. But how could one do that in the midst
of so many people? Instead, I pressed my wife’s hand and said, “Bravo,
Bravo”!
Abani Dhar was a member of the Hungryalist movement. He lives in Kolkata. He died in 2007
Asrar Chowdhury teaches Economics at Jahangirnagar University |
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