shadow

“Good morning sir. May I come in?” Nisha asked.

I looked up from the table. She was standing at the door. She looked marvellous with the red top and grey short-skirt. Red lipstick was shining on her milky white face. A smile always comes to my mind whenever I see her.

“Good morning, Nisha. Come in.” I said, smiling at her.

She came in and sat in front of me. I rang the bell. Dinesh came in. I asked him to bring a cup of cappuccino. I turned to Nisha and asked, “So, what are my appointments today?”

“You will study the weekly report now. At 11, you have an appointment with Dr. Kumar of Kumar & Sons. He sent us a proposal for the distribution of our robotics products, if you remember, sir. At 12, you have a meeting with the general manager of operations. After lunch, at 2, you will attend a video conference with Dr. Michael Tame regarding the improvements of the emotion software for robots. At 3, you will take me to my monthly check-up. That’s all for the day, sir.” She said without stopping. I couldn’t help smiling.

“Oh I forgot about your check-up. Surely we will go for it. How are you, by the way?” I asked her. Dinesh came in with a cup of cappuccino and left after serving me. I looked at Nisha. “What do you mean by how I am, sir? I am a robot and we still are working on our human emotion software. So, I guess till then I’ll have to answer you that I am doing fine.” She said.

“Hmm…” I said with a thoughtful expression, “Would you mind if I ask you something? Are you….” Nisha interrupted me, “Sorry sir, but again you’re asking whether I’ll mind when I haven’t installed the emotion software.”

“Okay, I meant… Uhm… Are your programs telling you that installing an emotion software will help you in your work?” “I don’t know sir. The program has denied to take any guess but has decided to wait for the installation.” “Okay, you may go now.” I said. Nisha stood up from the chair, bowed and left the room.

I manage the Patil Group, which makes robots that help us in our day-to-day lives. We make specialized robots for every household work, from cook robot to automatic washing machines with robotic pad, from gatekeeper to helper robot; though I didn’t allow the company to make multitasking robot so as to increase the profit of my company by selling more robots. I have the patent of such automatic robots, so I don’t even face much competition from other companies. So, many companies come to me for distribution of my robots and for permission of making autonomous robots under my licence. The meeting with Dr. Kumar was such a meeting. After that, I met the general manager of operations. He gave me the report of all the robot workers in my factory. He also told me that the testing of the human emotion software will start from today and asked me whether I would like it to test on Nisha first. I readily agreed.

After the meetings were over, Nisha came to me. We went to the VIR (very important robot) room. It is just like a VIP lounge for human. Dr. Giri, chief scientist of the lab, entered and wished us. We talked and then he and Nisha entered the chamber. He put her inside a machine and pushed the button. My excitement was growing. After 10 minutes, which seemed like an hour to me, they came out of the chamber. I hurriedly went to Dr. Giri and asked him how it went.

“It went well, Dr. Patil, don’t worry.” He said. I went out of the room with Nisha. After the final reviews of the day, I closed my office and came out. My limousine was waiting for me. Nitin, my driver robot, opened the door. I sat on the backseat. Nisha sat on the front one. Nitin drove my car to my villa. Paresh, my homeguard robot opened the gate with the switch. We entered my mansion. Prithvi, my helper robot at home took out the coat from me and gave me a towel. Sheela, the maid robot, went to make juice for me. I went for a shower, had juice along with sandwich and went to the entertainment room. The autonomous robot, whom I did not name like the others as it doesn’t have a human body, came forward and asked me with his mechanical voice what I want. I asked him to switch on the TV and connect to any English news channel.

I didn’t have much work to do at home. Being only 27 and a bachelor, I spent my time at home mostly watching TV, thinking about renovations of robots, about my business policies and chatting either with my bots or with people on the internet. I didn’t have any friends as I thought that people might become my friends only because of my money. I don’t know from where I got such thoughts. Nor I dated any girl as I wasn’t impressed by anyone.

The news that my company is going to test an emotion software on robots was being shown and so-called experts were chattering about it in a discussion for and against this step by us. Some critics said that I am helping in unemployment of today’s generation by creating helper robots and some said that I am helping the world by creating more workers, that too at low maintenance and no food but only renewable energy. I was familiar with all such criticisms till now. I didn’t give much important and asked my robot to switch to an entertainment channel.

After that, I took some tests of Nisha. She looked better and fresh. She was smiling sweetly. Perhaps she started understanding what smiling is. She looked sweeter in her night gown. Her beautiful eyes, designed by me after years of experience in painting, were shining. I was cheerful at another success of my company. I allowed her to leave. After some time, suddenly Nisha came in holding a paper.

“What is it, Nisha?” I asked.

“It has come from the ministry of defence. They have wished you for the new software hoping that you will contribute more to the country’s defence. And this one is from Prime Minister’s office. They too have wished you. I chose these two amongst number of wishes in fax and thought I should deliver these to you.” She said. Her important document selection program was working well. It was another program written by me. My robots could choose which documents are important among many similar documents. I thanked her and took the letters in hand. In the fax from Ministry of Defence, they thanked me for making auto decisive army, navy and air force robots for India. Of course it was a secret project we had to undertake, as I could have been the aim of other nations as well as militant organizations had the news been on air. My secret robot bodyguards helped me a lot and gave me confidence to roam around freely.

“Hope I am not disturbing your privacy, sir. I just wanted to know what people do for entertainment and feel their emotions.”

“Oh, absolutely not. Sit down. I was watching TV. Then I would have listened to some songs. Will you want to hear some?”

“Sure, sir. I would love to. I want to listen to some lyrics and get some emotions after analysing them.” She said. I smiled and ordered my robot in the entertainment room to play some soft Indian music. The player started playing,

“I walk a lonely roadThe only one that I have ever knownDon’t know where it goesBut I walk aloneI walk aloneI walk aloneI walk this empty street on the boulevard of broken dreamsWhen the city sleeps I’m the only one that walks alone…”

I looked at Nisha. She closed her eyes and started listening to it carefully. I also sat on the leaning chair and started relaxing.

“Sir, would you mind if I ask you some questions?” Suddenly Nisha asked me. I said, “Sure. Ask.”

“Don’t you feel lonely in this big house alone? Don’t you have any friends or don’t you think of marrying?” I was shocked at the question. “What made you ask so, Nisha?” “I was reading a book on human relations today in lunch break. After reading it, I checked your daily schedule for the last one year and found out that you never go to any friend’s house or date any girl. Why is it, sir, may I know?”

“Well, Nisha, perhaps you won’t understand completely. You are the only robot in the world with emotions till now. But after all you are a robot. You don’t know how it hurts when friends backstab you. Around two years ago, one of my friends in a secret service leaked my whereabouts to a militant organization for money. My robot spy detected it and warned me. Of course he had no emotion, unlike you. So I took the matter lightly. One day, when I was returning home, my automatic robot driver detected infrared light from a neighbouring area. At that time we didn’t put the robots in human shape but these were only some machines. As you know, we made human look-alike robots only one and half year ago and you were one of those robots of the first batch. That machine robot was programmed to protect me. It expanded its body and covered the front side of me. Suddenly bullets were fired from here and there to my car. I was horrified and numb. But then my programmed robot did the calculation and followed such a path that no bullet touches me. After somehow entering my compound, I hurriedly went inside my villa on switched on the topmost level protection with around 20 machine robots guarding my compound. But my car and my driver robot were severely damaged. That robot couldn’t be repaired and we had to recycle all the parts. After that incident, I indulged myself in a top secret project of improving defence mechanism in Indian borders and or the houses of VIPs. Govt. of India helped me a lot in this project. Then I started making human look-alike robots to help people in day-to-day life. And you see the rest now.” I concluded.

Nisha was staring at me the whole time. After a silence of 10 seconds, she finally said, “Sorry for the delay in replying, sir, as it is a new software. But it tells me that you are diverting from the topic. I asked you why, exactly, don’t you have friends or date girls?”

“See, I have made India a better place to live in. Now there are robots all around you. Nor it is very costly. It reduces human labour. It is so much fun to have robots all around me. I don’t feel the need of friends or of a woman in my life.” I was feeling uncomfortable.

“But, sir, though my emotion software is stopping me from saying this, I must say something. I think you are lying. You made my body and face look the same way your fiancée Priya looked like, who was kidnapped two years ago on the attack you just mentioned to me, and after that…”

“WHO ON EARTH TOLD YOU THAT?” I screamed at the top of my lungs before she could complete her sentence. She stayed calm despite seeing the furious me. She slowly said, “I accessed your personal diary long ago. I am sorry for that, sir. I had to go through your diaries to help you. I found out that after that attack you were mentally shattered and in order to stop losing your mental balance, you made up the story about the attack omitting the kidnap part to tell it to yourself every day. You started avoiding human company so that nobody can remind you of the actual version of the story. You created me looking exactly what she looked like. You let me wear similar clothes that she loved to wear. Moreover, you started manufacturing single working robot in place of multitasking robots and assigned them single works so that you can have enough company of robots in your home and office and so that you don’t feel lonely. This is the true story I could find out after I went through your diary and old newspaper records on the internet.”

There was a long silence. I was devastated. A long forgotten bitter truth was to be confronted. Finally I made myself speak, “Why are you telling me all these? To mentally break me down? What will you get doing so?”

“Do you know why I had to remind you of this story? She has been rescued fifteen minutes ago in an anti-terrorist mission. I thought…” Before she could complete, “WHAT?” I screamed. These were two back-to-back shocks for me.

“Yes sir, it is true. The army robots you invented had an operation today in a remote area of Rajasthan near Pakistan border and she has been rescued. Terrorists were threatening her and using her as a decoder. The robots confirmed her identification and sent us the message.”

“I… I still can’t believe it. Oh my love. I am so… I am so…” I sat down on the couch being numb. Nisha came closer. “I understand how you must be feeling to get your beloved back, sir. I thought of delivering this news to you when you entered entertainment room. But then again, sadness struck me. As two lookalikes can’t live together, I can’t stay in this house anymore after she comes, can I, sir?” She said, giving a sad smile. I smiled back faintly and said, “I’ll think about it, Nisha. Now will you please excuse me? I want to spend some time alone.”

“Sure sir.” She bowed and left. It was so much fun to have all the robots around me. It made my house a better place to live. But both I and Nisha knew that at least she can’t stay in my house anymore. It was time I started a family. But for the last one and half years, she has been my best companion. She helped me in every possible way. She was less of my robot secretary and more of my best friend. She was the most beloved creation of mine.

I don’t know how long I sat there. I knew it was time I made a decision. How can I be part with Nisha? But then again, Priya is coming back and I will love to marry her.

I don’t know whether it was the joy of getting my childhood love back or the grief of parting with the most beloved creation of mine, but for the first time in the last two years, I cried

tHE WORST LOVE STORY EVER TOLD

Week 1: Manav

“We’ll make this work, no, jaan?” she asked. “Yes, sweetheart, we will.” I replied tenderly. It had been months since I last met Anushka. “But we’ll make long distance work.” She is optimistic.

It has been a month since she moved to Roorkee, for higher studies. Her classes had already started. I reached Indore just a couple of days back, for the same purpose. My classes hadn’t started yet. People say that b-school is very hectic. I could sense that since the day I landed here. But it is being difficult for me to make her understand that. She perhaps has got used to my daily calls to her; to hours of talking. It was almost a daily ritual to call her at night, while she fell asleep peacefully while talking to me, and texted me next morning, “Sorry I fell asleep again, while talking”. I laughed.

Things have changed since past one month. Being the girl who has never been out of home alone, she’s trying to adjust with her new life in the best way possible. We don’t get to talk daily, and for the past couple of days, since I reached Indore, we’ve hardly talked. I’m not getting time even to eat, let alone talking. She throws tantrum every now and then, but then, that’s typical Anushka. At the end of the day, she is waiting for me to settle down and let our normal life resume.

“We’ll make this work, no, jaan?” she asked.

***

Week 2: Anushka

He is magical. I still remember the day I first talked to Manav. My finals got over and I was busy living the Great Indian Parents’ Dream. I was thinking of dropping a year for rediscovering myself, but at the same time I was totally depressed and insecure about my future. I didn’t know if I could come out of it. And then I met him.

It took me years to open up to someone of the opposite gender, and he made me do it in just a week. In the first talk itself, he came out to be that caring and slow-moving guy whom, I was sure, any girl would fall for. Being the person he is, it was frustrating for me to wait for him to ask my phone number, and he never did. I finally gave up one day, and gave the number myself, asking him to text me.

We’ve come a long way since then. He has been a constant source of motivation for me. The bond we share is more than love, I’m sure. For me, he is a lover, a friend, a guide and a teacher, all at the same time. He provides me a sense of security and freedom. I can happily fall asleep while talking to him. After topping my state and my zone in entrance, I had to leave home, finally. He too had to shift to Indore for higher studies. He is not giving me much importance for the past one month or so. Has something changed? I asked myself. I have heard a lot of stories about b-schools. Are all of those true? Sometimes I wish he was with me here. I feel insecure at times. The constant fear of him leaving me one day is continuously bugging me. I’m sure he’ll laugh it off if I tell him that. He can be an obnoxious jerk at times. Then again, the moment I am angry at him, he’ll find a way out to make me laugh, in a minute. He is magical.

***

Week 3: Manav

“I’m going to Delhi in two weeks. Can you please come visit me? I really want to meet you.” She asked. I really want to meet her too. The past two weeks here have been really frustrating. With classes going on in full swing, daily assignments and study pressure to remain in top, along with prospective internship preparations and other b-school melodrama, meeting her and seeing her smile would be a refreshing experience for me. But my previous appointments are binding me. I’m sure she’ll try to understand, but I have a serious doubt that she will succeed. She’s very frustrated with her new college life. We both know that it’s just a phase, but she wants a companion with whom she can spend this phase till it’s over. Can I do justice to her expectations, when I myself am struggling here, a thousand kilometer away from her? I doubt.

I’ll get a week holiday after two months, though. I can visit her then. In fact I’d love to. She deserves so much better, and I want to make this up to her. Probably I’ll make her a surprise visit, and take her out to some nearby places. I wonder if I should tell her about it now or wait at least a month more. Until then, she’ll probably be frustrated that I couldn’t go visit her in Delhi, and probably will start thinking all nonsensical things about me not caring about her, but that’s just a phase. Like many others in the past one and half years, this phase too shall pass.

***

Week 4: Anushka

I wonder if I really deserve such a treatment. It has been months, probably years, since I last met him. Despite that, I’m trying so hard to make this work, but it seems he doesn’t care at all. Last month I made this sketch for him, and he praised me a lot, but when I asked him to do something sweet for me, he said he’ll do it soon. A month gone, nothing has come to me yet.

Manav has stopped trying to woo me with his innovative ways, lately. Maybe he got bored of me, or maybe he has taken me for granted. Maybe, after all, all boys are same, at the end of the day. No matter how sweet they seem to be for you at first, they’ll show you their true colors once you get used to each other. And then he claims that he is having a hectic life. It sounds so bad, as if he wants to say that he is the only person in the world who has to do work, and I am running desperately after him because I have nothing to do here. Of course I don’t tell him how hectic my life here is. I have to be the mature one, if he chooses not to, for the sake of us.

Then again, I’m sure this is my angry mind speaking. Of course he loves me. I’ve never been loved by any boy this way. Even Shreya, Anwesha and all my other friends are jealous of me, when I tell them about us. He still calls me now and then, and makes me laugh. He never fails to compliment me.

Many people have asked me out since I’ve come here. I have to either politely decline or create a diversion. I can’t lie that it doesn’t make me happy, it certainly does. Who wouldn’t love to get compliments and attention? But this makes me sad at the same time, wishing that Manav gave me half the attention these boys are giving unnecessarily. Probably I’ll have to make him jealous in order to keep him interested in me.

***

Week 5: Manav

The other day, Anushka told me about the boys of her college hitting on her. She was telling me the stories with such a passion that I was on the verge of worrying. “But is any one of them as awesome as I am, darling?” I asked, laughing. “Well, point taken.” She sighed.

Should I worry about her getting so much attention, I asked myself. I never worried about it before, as I knew for a fact that she knew how much I loved and cared for her. But looking at her recent grumpiness, I’d probably have to revisit my whole theory. When I asked her point blank if I should worry, she answered, “Don’t take things for granted, Manav. Keep showing me your love, be it the cheesy way. Else one day one of these boys is going to take me away from you. Don’t complain it to me that I didn’t warn you before.”

I don’t take her for granted. I just know she’d not leave me for some temporary happiness she might find. She is much more matured than this; and this is one of the reasons I like her. I know I couldn’t be physically present at some of the most difficult times she had, when she needed me and asked for me, but I’m sure I can compensate for everything. If I am the guy around whom she feels the safest, why on earth will she leave me? Of course she won’t.

***

Week 6: Anushka

I’ve been hanging around a lot of people lately. I can’t claim any of them to be a good friend, but I’m trying to be in good rapport with them. Manav says I should talk to people more. He’s right, but at the same time, I sometimes just don’t feel like it. This is the same problem with all the introverts, I guess.

I was talking to Hrishikesh yesterday. He’s the friend whom you can hang out with and have a nice conversation. He is knowledgeable, funny and charming. Basically, he is just like Manav, without the narcissism, of course. I have a review project with him, whose submission is due next month. I used to tell Manav everything about what I do, whom I hang out with, but this time I chose not to tell him about Hrishikesh. In normal days, he wouldn’t bother to ask me how my day went, but if he knows I’m hanging out with a guy for days, I’m sure he’d worry like any other guy would; and I’m tired of answering Manav and trying to make him feel my importance.

For over a year Manav has been this magical guy, who has suddenly changed into this person I’m feeling distant from. I don’t know if I should give up on the hope that he’ll make me feel important again. It has gone on for too long.

***

Week 7: Manav

I was stupid when Anushka proposed me a few months back and I asked her to wait for both of us to settle down in our new places. “You might like someone else after going there, and then you’ll feel sad that you have a boyfriend. Better not to define our relationship, right?” I said, jokingly. “This is not funny, Manav.” She sounded furious. She always sounds cute when she is angry and furious. She can’t even scold people with her baby voice, since people take her lightly; and this makes her even more furious. I’d always pull her cheeks and give her a hug when she’s angry around me, but this time it was not possible when we were a thousand kilometer away.

The more I’m staying away from Anushka, the more I’m realizing how much I love and miss her. It’s been almost a week since we last had a romantic conversation. She says that she’s busy doing a project with a friend of hers. College life is hard, I told myself.

For the past couple of days, she’s been acting really weird. It’s really starting to bother me. Whenever we used to have romantic talks, she never failed to make sarcastic remarks about how I ‘rejected’ her, and every time I had to convince her that I’ll make it up to her. But she’d stopped doing that as well. I had the bad feeling that she’s started giving up on me. I have started writing the letter I promised I’d send her. Starting from the lovely jhumka earring she was wearing the first day we met, I’ve written every little things of her that made me like her more and more, every day. I’ll post the letter next week.

I think it is time to do the right thing.

***

Week 8: Anushka

Two weeks back, I started developing feelings for Hrishikesh. First I chose to ignore, figuring it to be a temporary fling which will heal itself. But the more I tried to ignore, the more I’m being attracted towards him, at an exponential rate. I feel worse when I remember Manav. He has ignored me a lot lately, but he loves me. If I tell him about my feelings for Hrishikesh, his heart will break. Worst part is that I don’t even honestly know if I love Manav anymore.

I’m surely indebted to everything Manav has done for me, when I was on the lowest point in life and I lost all my confidence. He had given me love when I needed it the most. But does it mean I’m obliged to love him forever? Is this the only way the debt can be repaid? Shouldn’t I think about my own happiness as well? These questions were clouding over me for the past few days.

Life was less bad until today, when I went out for a movie with Hrishikesh. And then he told me about his feelings for me. I don’t know if he knew or even guessed that I liked him back or not, but he couldn’t have chosen a worse time. I asked him to give me a couple of days to clear my head. He readily agreed. But I’m sure Manav wouldn’t, if he gets to know all these. But I have to tell him. This is the least I can do for him, try to make him understand the situation, apologize and ask some time from him to make things right again.

I think it is time to do the right thing.

***

“I have something to tell you.” Both texted each other

ঘোচ

May 5, 2013

লং শ্বট। এখন চহৰৰ দৃশ্য। এটি ব্যস্ত চাৰিআলি। এটা ৰাস্তাৰে বগা ৰঙৰ মাৰুতী ৮০০ গাড়ী এখন আহি চাৰিআলিটোত সোঁফালে ঘূৰিছে। তাৰ পিছত এখন ৰিক্সা তাৰ বিপৰীত দিশেৰে আহি চাৰিআলিটো পাৰ হোৱাৰ চেষ্টা চলাইছে। ট্রেফিক পুলিচে ৰিক্সাৱালাটোৰ উদ্দেশ্যি হুইচেল বজাইছে। ৰিক্সাখনত বহি যোৱা শকত ভদ্রমহিলাগৰাকীয়ে ৰিক্সাৱালাটোক কিবা কোৱা দেখা গৈছে। ৰাস্তাৰ কাষ হৈ ৰিক্সাখন লাহেকৈ চাৰিআলিটো পাৰ হৈ গৈছে। তেনে সময়তেই মাৰুতী গাড়ীখন অহাৰ দিশেৰেই এখন হালধীয়া ৰঙৰ স্কুলবাছ আহিছে। সৰু স্কুলবাছ। দেখাত সম্ভ্রান্ত আৰু দামী স্কুল যেন লাগে। স্কুলবাছৰ নামটো অস্পষ্ট।

মিড লং শ্বট। অসম চৰকাৰৰ এটা বিভাগ। কিছুমান মানুহ সোমাইছে আৰু কিছুমান ওলাইছে। এজন মানুহ বিভাগটোলৈ খোজ লৈছে। হাতত প্লাষ্টিকৰ মোনা এটা। পিছপিনৰপৰা মানুহজনৰ চেহেৰাটো দেখা যোৱা নাই। পিন্ধনত দীঘল হাতৰ চোলা এটা আৰু লংপেণ্ট এটা। ভৰিত কি পিন্ধিছে ভালদৰে দেখা যোৱা নাই। ভৱনটোৰ মূল দুৱাৰেৰে মানুহজন সোমাই গৈছে। দুৱাৰৰ ভিতৰছোৱা দেখা যোৱা নাই। অন্ধকাৰ।

ক্ল’জ শ্বট। ভৰিৰপৰা মূৰলৈ। ভৰিত হাৱাই চেণ্ডেল। ক’লা ৰঙৰ লংপেণ্টটো অলপ মলিয়ন যেন দেখা গৈছে। দীঘল হাতৰ চোলাটো পেণ্টৰ ভিতৰত গুজি লোৱা নাই। মুখখন কিছু শোতোৰা পৰা। চকুকেইটা বহল। কাণৰ লতি কিছু ওলমিছে।

“ছাৰ…”

বিষয়া এজনে ফাইলৰপৰা মূৰ তুলি চাইছে। এক চেকেণ্ড পিছত বিষয়াজনৰ মুখত বিৰক্তিৰ ভাৱ স্পষ্টভাৱে দেখা গৈছে। সেই এক চেকেণ্ড সময় তেওঁ সন্মুখৰ মানুহজনক চিনি পোৱাত লগাইছে, আৰু এক চেকেণ্ড পিছৰ বিৰক্তিখিনি সেই এক চেকেণ্ডৰ বিশ্লেষণৰ প্রতিফলন। বিষয়াজনে পাতল নীলা ৰঙৰ ষ্ট্রাইপ থকা দীঘল হাতৰ চোলা এটা পিন্ধিছে। তলফালে কি পিন্ধিছে সেয়া জানিব পৰা নাযায়। সোণালী ৰঙৰ কলমটো ফাইলটোৰ ওপৰত থৈ তেওঁ নিজৰ দুয়োখন হাতৰ আঙুলিকেইটা লগ লগাইছে।

“ছাৰ, মোৰ কামটো কিবা হ’লনে? যোৱামাহত যে আহিছিলোঁ…”

“অঁ অঁ মনত আছে। হৈছে ৰ’বা তোমাৰ কামটো। মাথোঁ বৰবাবুৰ দুটামান চহী বাকী আছে। ফাইলটো অৱশ্যে এতিয়া মোৰ তাতেই আছে। বৰবাবু আহিলেই তোমাৰ কাম হৈ যাব। চিন্তা নকৰিবা। হৈ যাব। তুমি নহ’লে অহা সপ্তাহত আহা।” নির্লিপ্ত উত্তৰ। চিধাই ক’ব পৰা নাই। দুর্নীতি বিৰোধী আন্দোলন আৰু গান্ধী টুপী পিন্ধা বুঢ়া মানুহ এজনে কেইমাহমান আগতে দেশখন কঁপাই ৰাখিছিল। গতিকে এইখিনি সময় চিধা কথা নপতাৰ সময়। বুজিলে মানুহজনে বুজিব, নুবুজিলে আৰু দুমাহমান ঘূৰাই বুজাই দিয়া যাব।

দুমাহ ৰ’ব লগা নহ’ল। মানুহজনে এতিয়াই বুজিলে। মানে যোৱাবাৰেই বুজিছিল। “ছাৰ ধন্যবাদ। সোনকালে কামটো হৈ গ’লে আমাৰ সুবিধা হ’ব ছাৰ। গাৱঁত এইখিনি টকাৰ বহু প্রয়োজন। ফিচাৰীৰ বাবেও সহায় হ’ব। অ’, ফিচাৰী বোলোতেহে মনত পৰিছে। আমাৰ পুখুৰীৰেই কেইটামান কাৱৈ আৰু এটা চিতল মাছ আপোনাৰ বাবে লৈ আনিছোঁ। আপোনাৰ ল’ৰা-ছোৱালীকেইজনে ভাল পাব। ইয়াত চহৰতটো আপোনালোকে একদম তাজা মাছ নাপায়েই চাগে। খাই চাবচোন। পত্নীয়ে বাইদেউলৈ বুলি দি পঠাইছে।”

বুজাই বুজিলে। লগে লগে বিষয়াজন সচেতন হ’ল। “এঃ এইবোৰ বস্তু কিয় আনিব লাগে? আমাৰ ঘৰত সদায় মাছ থাকেই। অৱশ্যে ইমান ফ্রেচ মাছ নাপাওঁ বাৰু, সেয়া মানিব লাগিব। আনিছা যেতিয়াতো ল’বই লাগিব। ঠিক আছে বাৰু, দি দিয়া। এই কাষতে থৈ দিয়া। আৰু অহা সপ্তাহত আহি যাবা। তোমাৰ কাম হৈ যাব। বেছি ডাঙৰ কাম নহয়, সৰু কামহে। ডাঙৰ কাম হ’লে বহুদিন ঘূৰিবলগীয়া হ’লহেঁতেন। জানাই নহয় ৰঙা ফিটাৰ মেৰপাক, গতিকে বৰবাবুৱে নভবা নিচিন্তাকেতো চহী কৰিব নোৱাৰে। যোৱা যোৱা। চিন্তা কৰিব নালাগে। কাম হৈ যাব।” আশ্বাসৰ সুৰেৰে বিষয়াজনে ক’লে।

পুনৰ মিড লং শ্বট। বাছত খিৰিকীৰ কাষৰ চিট এটাত মানুহজনক বহি থকা দেখা গৈছে।

লং শ্বট। পল্টনবজাৰ। দূৰণিবটীয়া বাছ এখন বাছ আস্থানৰপৰা লাহেকৈ ওলাইছে। বেকগ্রাউণ্ডত দোস্ত হবিবুৰ ৰহমানৰ ‘গুহেটীক নমস্কাৰ’ গানটো বাজি আছে। প্রথম দর্শন সমাপ্ত।

* * *

পুনৰ মিড লং শ্বট। এটা অসম টাইপৰ ঘৰ। পিছে সুসজ্জিত। গে’টৰ ফাঁকেৰে ফুলৰ বাগিচা এখনৰ অংশবিশেষ ৰিণিকি ৰিণিকি দেখা পায়। কেইচেকেণ্ডমান পিছত প্রথম দৃশ্যৰ চাৰিআলিটোত দেখাৰ দৰেই এখন স্কুলবাছ ঘৰটোৰ সন্মুখত ৰ’ল। পাঁচ-ছয় চেকেণ্ডমান ৰোৱাৰ পিছত গাড়ীখন গ’ল। গাড়ীখনে ঢাকি ধৰা গে’টখন পুনৰ দেখা গ’ল। তেৰ-চৈধ্য বছৰীয়া ল’ৰা এজনে গে’টৰ ভিতৰ সোমাই গে’টখন বন্ধ কৰি থকা দেখা গ’ল। পিন্ধনত বগা হাফ চোলা আৰু ক’লা লংপেণ্ট। দূৰৰপৰাই পেণ্টটো চকমকাই আছে। প্রথম দৃশ্যত দেখা মানুহজনৰ পেণ্টটোৰ সম্পূর্ণ বিপৰীত। পিঠিত এটা স্কুলবেগ। পানীৰ বটল এটা গলত ওলোমাই লোৱা আছে। ল’ৰাজন লাহে লাহে ঘৰটোৰ পিনে আগবাঢ়িল। কলিংবেলটো টিপিলে। কিছুসময় পিছত কোনোবা এজনে দুৱাৰখন খুলিলে। খোলোঁতাজনৰ চেহেৰাটো অন্ধকাৰৰ বাবে দেখা নগ’ল। ল’ৰাজন ভিতৰ সোমাই গ’ল। তাৰ পিছত দুৱাৰখন বন্ধ হৈ গ’ল।

* * *

ক্ল’জ শ্বট। মধ্যবিত্ত পৰিয়াল এটাৰ ডাইনিং ৰুম। মহিলা এগৰাকীয়ে খাদ্য যুগুতাই আছে। দহ-এঘাৰবছৰীয়া ছোৱালী এজনীয়ে মহিলাগৰাকীক সহায় কৰিছে। পিছপিনে ঘৰটোৰ কিছু অংশ দেখা গৈছে। উচ্চ মধ্যবিত্ত পৰিয়াল বুলি গম পোৱা যায়। দামী ছবি এখন পিছপিনে আঁৰি থোৱা আছে। কিছুসময় পিছত মহিলাগৰাকীয়ে চিঞৰি পৰিয়ালৰ বাকী সদস্যসকলক খাবলৈ মাতিছে। দুই মিনিটমান পিছত প্রথম দর্শনত দেখা বিষয়াজনক দেখা গৈছে। ডাইনিং টেবুলত বহিছে। কাঁহীত থকা চাউলখিনিৰ ওপৰত দাইল বাকি লৈছে। এগৰাহ ভাত মুখত ভৰাইছে।

“বাবা!” মানুহজনে চিঞৰিছে। পাঁচ চেকেণ্ডৰ নিঃশব্দতা। মহিলাগৰাকী এটা কোঠাৰপৰা ওলাই আহিছে। “তুমি হেনো মাছকেইটা অফিচত ঘোচত আনিছা। ঘোচৰ বস্তু সি নুচুৱে বোলে।” মহিলাগৰাকীয়ে লাহেকৈ ক’লে।

“কোনে ক’লে তাক এনেকৈ?” মানুহজন শিয়ঁৰি উঠিল। “মই তাক কৈছিলো যে আজি দেউতাৰৰ অফিচলৈ আহোঁতে গাৱঁৰ মানুহ এজনে গাৱঁৰ পুখুৰীৰপৰা ফ্রেচ কাৱৈ আৰু চিতল মাছ আনিছে। এইবোৰ বস্তুটো সদায় সদায় চহৰত পোৱা নাযায়। পালেও ইমান দাম। গতিকে ফ্রীতে পাওঁতেই খাই ল’ আজি ভালকৈ। তেনেকে ক’বলৈহে পালোঁ, সি জঁকি উঠিল, কোনো অচিনাকী মানুহে হেনো অচিনাকী মানুহৰ বাবে অফিচলৈ এইবোৰ বস্তু এনেই লৈ নানে। মানুহজনে নিশ্চয় ঘোচ দিছে। গতিকে সি এই মাছ নাখায়। লাগিলে আজি ভাতকে নাখায় বোলে। বুজোৱা যোৱা তোমাৰ ধর্মাত্মা পুত্রক।”

দুই চেকেণ্ডৰ বাবে মানুহজনৰ মুখখন ফটোগ্রাফ এখনৰ দৰে স্থিৰ হৈ ৰ’ল। হঠাতে ইলেকট্রিক শ্ব’ক খোৱাৰ দৰে জাঁপ মাৰি চকীখনৰপৰা তেওঁ উঠিল। মহিলাগৰাকী ওলাই অহা কোঠাটোৰ পিনে মানুহজনে খোজ ল’লে। “বাবা, কি হৈছে তোৰ? কোনে কৈছে তোক মই ঘোচ খোৱা বুলি?” -ইতিমধ্যে কেমেৰা ল’ৰাজনৰ কোঠালৈ স্থানান্তৰ হৈছে। দুপৰীয়া স্কুলবাছৰপৰা নমা ল’ৰাজনক তাৰ কোঠাত দেখা গৈছে। পৰিপাটী কোঠা। মাজত এজনীয়া বিচনা। একাষে এটা আলমাৰী আৰু আনকাষে পঢ়িবৰ বাবে এযোৰ চকী-মেজ। মেজৰ ওপৰত কেইখনমান কিতাপ আৰু বহী। সন্মুখত কম্পিউটাৰ এটা। চকীত ল’ৰাজন বহী আছে। কম্পিউটাৰত কিবা চাই আছে। কি চাই আছে ধৰিব পৰা নাযায়। কাষতে কিতাপ এখন মেলি থোৱা আছে। কোঠাৰ বাকী অংশ ভালদৰে কেমেৰাৰ লেন্সে ধৰি ৰখা নাই। মানুহজন ফ্রেমলৈ সোমাই অহা দেখা গৈছে। এতিয়া কেমেৰাৰ ফ্রেমত ল’ৰাজন আৰু দেউতাক। মানুহজনে কথাষাৰ আনটো কোঠাৰপৰা কৈ কৈ আহি আছে- “তোৰ দেউতাৰক তেনে মানুহ পাইছ নেকি?”

“মই নাজানোঁ নেকি কিবা? কোৱাচোন কোনে দিছে তোমাক মাছকেইটা? নামটোও জানানে নাজানা মোৰ সন্দেহ। মোৰ চকুলৈ চাই মিছা মাতিব পাৰিবা? পাৰা যদি নিজৰ পুতেৰৰ চকুলৈ চাই মিছা কোৱাচোন।” পুতেকে ঘোপাকৈ বাপেকলৈ চাই পঠিয়ালে।

বাঘহেন বাপেকে তিনিচেকেণ্ডমান থেৰোঁ-গেৰোঁ কৰিলে। “নহয় মানে মানুহজনে গাৱঁৰপৰা মাছকেইটা লৈয়েই আনিছিল। মই কি সেইকেইটা ঘূৰাই পঠিয়াম নেকি? তাতে ইমান গৰম, বাছতেই মাছকেইটা গেলি গ’লহেতেন। ভালেই হ’ল মই সেইকেইটা লৈ আনিলোঁ। তই তাকো ঘোচ বুলি কৱ? হে ভগৱান, তোৰ মূৰ গ’ল। মই কোনো টকা-পইচা লোৱা নাই মানুহজনৰপৰা আৰু সেই মানুহটোৰপৰা কেতিয়াও নলৱোঁ। টকা-পইচা লোৱাটোকহে ঘোচ বুলি কয়। তোৰ বাপেৰ অফিচৰ কামৰ বাবে বাহিৰা টকা-পইচা লোৱা মানুহ নহয়। আহ আহ, ভেম এৰ, ভাত খাহি আহ। ব’ল।” বাপেকে বাওঁহাতখন ল’ৰাজনৰ কান্ধত থ’লে (সোঁহাতত ভাত, দাইল আৰু মাছৰ টুকুৰা অকণ লাগি আছিল। কেমেৰাই সেইখিনি ভালদৰে দেখুৱাব নোৱাৰিলেও দর্শকে সেইখিনি অনুমান কৰি ল’ব পাৰে)।

ল’ৰাজনে অৱশ্যে শুদা দাইলেৰেই ভাতকেইটা খালে (মাছ থকা বাবে মাকে বেলেগকৈ তৰকাৰী বনোৱা নাছিল। মাছ নোখোৱা দেখি এটা কণীৰ অমলেট এটা মাকে বনাই দিলে। কেমেৰাত সেইখিনি দেখুওৱা নহ’ল।)

* * *

ক্ল’জ শ্বট। পুনৰ সেই একেই কার্যালয়। মানুহজনৰ মুখত এটা বিনম্র হাঁহি, সেইদিনাৰ বিৰক্তিৰ ভাৱৰ সম্পূর্ণ বিপৰীত। কেমেৰা ঘূৰাতহে ওৰ ওলাল। সন্মুখত বগা কুর্তা পিন্ধা থুলন্তৰ চেহেৰাৰ মানুহ এজন বহি আছে। তেওঁৰ মুখতো হাঁহি। বেকগ্রাউণ্ডত মৃদু সংগীত বাজি আছে। তেওঁলোকে কি কথা পাতি আছে সেয়া শুনিব পৰা যোৱা নাই। কিছুসময় পিছত মানুহজন থিয় হৈছে। বিষয়াজনে হাতঘড়ীলৈ চাইছে। দুই চেকেণ্ড কিবা ভাবিছে। তাৰপিছত তেৱোঁ থিয় হৈছে।

মিড লং শ্বট। ব্যস্ত ৰাস্তা এটাৰে বিলাসী গাড়ী এখন পাৰ হৈ গৈছে। পিছৰ চিটত থুলন্তৰ চেহেৰাৰ মানুহজন আৰু বিষয়াজনক একেলগে দেখা গৈছে। ক্ল’জ শ্বটত থুলন্তৰ মানুহজনৰ হাঁহি থকা মুখ, বগা দাঁতকেইটা আৰু তাত লাগি থকা তামোলৰ চেকা দেখা গৈছে।

* * *

ল’ৰাজন স্কুলবেগ লৈ ঘৰৰ ভিতৰ সোমাইছে। চকু এঠাইত ঠৰ লাগি ৰৈছে। কেমেৰা সেইপিনে ঘূৰোৱাত নতুন ক’লা ৰঙৰ বৃহৎ আকাৰৰ এল চি ডি টিভি এটা দেখা গৈছে। ল’ৰাটোৰ মুখেৰে প্রথমে হাঁহি ওলাই সেই হাঁহিটো স্তব্ধ হৈ গৈছে। দেউতাক কাষৰ কোঠাটোৰপৰা ওলাই আহিছে।

“ইমান দামী টিভি? বাপৰে। তাতকৈ গাড়ী এখনেই কিনিব লাগিছিল। পুৰণা মাৰুতী ৮০০ এখনত কিমান ঘূৰিম। তুমিও যে আৰু! পিছে কিমান ল’লে, দেউতা?”

“ডেৰ লাখ। অৱশ্যে ১০% ৰেহাই চলি আছে। সেইকাৰণেই লৈ আনিলোঁ।” মৃদু হাঁহিৰে দেউতাকে ক’লে। “সঁচানে?” ল’ৰাজনৰ মুখত সন্দেহৰ ভাৱ স্পষ্ট।

“বাপেৰক কি পাইছ? সঁচানে বুলি সুধিব আহ যে? বিলখন দেখুৱালেহে শান্তি পাবি নেকি? টিভিটোৰ কাষতেই আছে। চাই ল। এইখন। এয়া চা। হোঃ। তোৰ লগত চুপতি মাৰিবৰ সময় নাই মোৰ। টিভিৰ দোকানৰ মানুহকেইটা এইমাত্র গ’ল টিভি ফিট কৰি। মইও অফিচলৈ যাওঁ। কাপোৰ কানি সলাই খাই বৈ শুই ল’গৈ। সন্ধিয়া টিউচন নাই জানো? যা যা।” বাপেক অফিচলৈ ওলাই গ’ল।

তেওঁৰ মিছা মতাৰ দৰকাৰ নাই। দোকানৰপৰাই তেওঁ টিভিটো আনিছে। অফিচত কোনেও টিভি ঘোচ দিবলৈ যোৱা নাই। এইটো বেলেগ কথা যে পইচা তেওঁ দিয়া নাই। টিভিটো কিনা সময়ত তেওঁৰ লগত থকা থুলন্তৰ চেহেৰাৰ মানুহজনে দিছে। বিলখন অৱশ্যে তেওঁৰ নামতেই বনোৱা আছে। মানুহজনে মিচিকিয়াই হাঁহিলে।

Skylark Girl by Aruni Kashyap (The Assamese Folktale 'Tejimola' retold in English)

Three weeks before Tejimola was born, her mother Numoli had eaten so many orange coloured ripe peaches, and swallowed so many slippery seeds that she was reminded of her childhood fear of turning into a tree overnight if you swallowed seeds by mistake. Petrified, she couldn't sleep all night. She had strange dreams of turning into different kinds of trees: a large-trunked tamarind tree, slim, lanky and weak papaya tree, or a mango tree where ghosts chose to reside. All night, she twitched on her bed. In the morning, when she told her dreams to her husband, the wandering businessman Dhaniram Saud, he had chided her. He said her dreams were baseless. But Numoli had disagreed; she had those dreams in the morning and was facing the east when she had woken up drenched in sweat. She placed the cup of tea--made from the dried bark of mature arjun-trees--in front of him. Aghuni, the densely wrinkled, tall and large-eyed midwife who would help in the delivery three weeks later was sitting at the backyard when Numoli was having that conversation with her husband. Later, she told Numoli there was nothing to be afraid of. She said that it wasn't the childhood fear that was haunting her. Her dreams were anticipating her unborn baby. The lush leafy mango tree she had seen in her dreams, into which she saw herself transform, standing all alone in a chrome-yellow harvested paddy field, signaled a healthy baby.

Never before had Aghuni been wrong in her interpretations of dreams, but this time she was.

Numoli died while giving birth to Tejimola. While cutting the umbilical cord, Aghuni had seen that it had started to grow tiny, light green buds. By the time she had bathed the baby, those buds had started to turn into mature leaves. Though she plucked them one by one like plucking fine bud-like feathers off the body of a pigeon being prepared to cook after soaking it in hot water, they had started to sprout out from different parts of her body like grass on the roadsides after the first rains of summer. By the time Numoli's eyelids were covered by rapidly maturing parrot-green peach leaves, she died, unable to breathe because the leaves were sucking all the blood from her body; she had already lost a lot of it during childbirth. Carefully, Aghuni plucked off everything; bud by bud, leaf by leaf, sprout by sprout. She tried hard to make Numoli look like a normal corpse by scrubbing the skin of the dead woman with dry, powdered lentils soaked in water so that the fine brown and white roots of those leaves didn't remain stuck to the skin. Only then she informed Dhaniram Saud about the birth of his daughter. There were no other women in the labour room - cherasali.

That night Aghuni told Dhaniram Saud that she didn't want to leave the house until the baby girl could take care of herself, was married off to a good boy who would be able to feed her by working in the fields, if not the newly found tea-gardens of the British that were swarming with Santhali workers from central India who spoke a strange language. She loved the baby's dead mother like a sister, she said. But it wasn't only concern for the newborn that had her there. Aghuni was worried that the baby would also start sprouting leaves and die. Though she didn't know how she'd prevent that, and how she'd save her, she wanted to linger around.

Dhaniram Saud built her a small but strong hut at his backyard where Aghuni spent the rest of her days looking after the baby; she didn't have any relatives so she accepted that house as her own. She used the hut only to keep her clothes and belongings, the ornaments that her mother-in-law had given her on the deathbed. Her days were spent beside the baby's cradle, and then later, her bed.

They had named her Tejimola but everyone would call her 'Teji' affectionately. By the time Saud had married for the second time after the elders in the village pressed him to remarry so that the girl had a mother's caring hands around her, Aghuni had plucked different kinds of leaves off her skin at least four times. She used diverse methods such as rubbing the paste of black-eyed beans' or fresh turmeric to do that. She didn't want to repeat the haphazard method of plucking. She thought it was the reason why Numoli had bled to death, for which she'd blame herself silently for the rest of her life.

As a result of her regular attempts, which she masked as "skin care" so that the stepmother Romola didn't know what was going on, Tejimola had the brightest skin in the whole village. She was dark-skinned, but shone even during moonless nights or at dusk when the day and the night met for a while to chat. She also had the most beautiful oval eyes like slim fishes, with long, thick eyelashes, and Aghuni was worried that at any moment they would turn into vines of a bottle gourd. Probably that worry killed her. Two weeks before the red-necked leaf-green parrot sang to a middle-aged Dhaniram Saud who was packing his bags for the next trip around the world to sell his wonderful handicrafts and silk clothes collected from around the region, Aghuni passed away in her sleep.

The parrot had sung:

When you see me, you frown,

Into a lady your daughter has grown,

When would you get her

a groom from the town?

It was a shrill voice, accusatory tone that reminded Dhaniram Saud of his second wife, Romola, who was the most quarrelsome woman in the village and treated Tejimola like a slave. He looked at the parrot, sighed, and assured him that when he goes around for the next six months in his steamer through the chest of the Brahmaputra River, he would look out for a handsome groom for his only daughter.

But Romola had other plans. Just like the previous trips, the night his boat floated into the Brahmaputra and moved towards the Bay of Bengal, and then to the Arabian Sea, she cooked delicious dishes for her three sons but gave Teji only left-over rice with salt, made her sleep on the floor on a bamboo mat and forced her to do the dishes, wash all the clothes, and sometimes even tether the mooing homecoming cows in the cowshed in the evenings - a man's job.

Tejimola didn't worry for she had started to think it was routine, and loved the only person she could call "Ma". The night Saud left, a small green bud sprouted on her finger, which she used sandalwood paste to remove as soon as she could. It was a method taught by Aghuni, who she loved and missed too much.

***

On her best friend's wedding, Tejimola was surprised at her step-mom's generosity. When she had asked for a good cotton dress from the wooden shelf of her dead mother, Romola had given Tejimola the most expensive golden muga-silk dress to wear. Tejimola hesitated for a while. But Romola had smiled warmly and said, "Ah, you don't have to wear those old designs. And you should start wearing a full-sleeved jakit-blouse too. That is one convenient thing the British people brought with them to this place — instead of wrapping the reeha, now you can wear a blouse under your dress. I will give you my new silk dress bought from Sualkuchi with a matching blouse."

Tejimola hesitated even more, "Ma, are you sure?"

"Ah, I am growing old my dear Teji! If the grown up girl of the house doesn't wear my dresses who would? Haven't you seen your brothers? God knows what kind of women they bring home when they grow up. If this old lady gets a corner to rest along with two meals a day after they bring home women to share their beds, I will consider it enough. But then, who would wear my beautiful dresses? You must deck up for your best friend's wedding. Will you be able to go alone?"

"Yes, I can go alone." She looked at the dress and said, "That's a beautiful dress."

But Romola had other plans. Sinister plans. While packing the dress in a jute satchel, she had placed a weak smolder and a small brown skinned rat in between the creases of the silk dress.

The path to her best friend's house was windy. It was the month of Phagun and blood-red silk cotton flowers had spread a carpet on the road. From a distance, its long, slim, petals looked like the red-coloured nails of a prostitute. Teji had felt something moving in her jute satchel. She wanted to open it and check. But she was scared because her stepmother had warned her not to even look at it before reaching the wedding. Romola had said that if she opened it, the dress would become dirty because it was so windy and dusty. She knew her mother's wrath. She was too pleased and overwhelmed at the sudden display of love, and she didn't want to disappoint her. She wanted to do everything that would please her. She walked faster; deciding she would open the bag and check what was wrong only after reaching her friend's place where she would take a bath and change. From a distance, a Forest Song sung by some unknown farmer came and stood near her. It refused to leave, blocked her way as she walked. When she started humming it while walking briskly, it cleared the way and so she hummed it all her way. She didn't see the mild smoke that the jute satchel was emitting because she had tucked it between her arms and pressed it against the right side of her body.

***

Once she had reached the wedding place, Teji freaked out after seeing the partially burnt and rat-chewed dress. She sat in a corner of the changing room and wept. She said her mother would kill her now that the dress was spoiled because it was gifted to Romola by her old aunt on her wedding with Dhaniram Saud.

Sokhi, her best friend, tried to console her, "Come on Teji, you aren't responsible for it."

"But how would I explain, Sokhi?"

"You don't have to explain anything — just tell her the truth."

"She will hold me responsible and beat me, kill me."

Someone called Sokhi from the other room. It was time she bathed with turmeric paste and dressed up. The smell of flowers and different kinds of fruit-paste that would be applied on her body during the ritual bath invaded the sullenness of the room, turning it cheerful. Sokhi opened the wooden box that had ornate designs on it and took out a new pat-silk dress that she was gifted the other day so that Teji didn't have to wear cotton clothes during the wedding. But Teji couldn't enjoy the wedding. A fear tugged at her heart like the distant mournful songs of cowherds. A fear pulled the tender strings of her heart like the sorrowful tone of the curved aero-phones made from old, dead buffalo-horns.

She was sad, the teller of wonderful stories, her best friend, with whom she had shared the news of her first periods and first crushes, was going away to some distant land. She wondered when would they ever meet again and hoped to get married to someone who lived in her best friend's village too. The fears didn't decrease; like monsoon rivers, they overflowed, since she didn't have answers to furnish about the burnt silk dress. When the women sang the parting song, when Sokhi went to hug each person she was close to, Teji couldn't stop crying:

O Lucky Daughter of the house!

With betel-nuts in your hands

Go say goodbye to your mother

With silk-dresses in your hands

Go touch the feet of your father

With worn-out toys in your hands

Go kiss the forehead of your little brother

With the gold ornaments in your hands

Go clasp the palms of your elder brother

With mischief twinkling in your eyes

Go hug your closest girlfriends

Who you would never meet again—

remember: a girl's life is just a

String of ephemeral images

formed by meeting nimbus clouds.

Before leaving the premises of this house

at least turn back once, if you

don't want the pots and pans of his house

to follow you down the dusty road,

O Lucky Daughter of the house!

O Lucky Daughter of the house!!

***

Teji's mother didn't believe her, and as soon as she reached home, her mother pulled her long slippery hair and slapped her. As a punishment Romola asked Teji to help in grinding the rice that was soaked to make pithas. Tejimola pleaded, said that she would help her, but at least Romola must trust her that she wasn't responsible for what happened to the silk dress. But Romola had planned Tejimola's death for a long time, and this was the golden opportunity — when her father wasn't around. At first, she ground her right hand. When she cried, "Ma, you ground my right hand," she said, "Use your left" and when she cried, "Ma, you ground both my legs, please let me go," Romola asked her to use her head. She cracked her skull too, with the wooden grinder.

Romola buried Tejimola at her backyard. All these years, Tejimola's flesh and blood had been waiting for this moment for which her mother died during childbirth. As soon as Romola turned her back, Tejimola's flesh started to germinate and gradually turned into a creeper gourd's plant. The soil sucked her blood from her vessels, nourishing itself. The leaves, twigs, and the roots kept Tejimola's soul intact and protected.

At the lonely backyard, during windy afternoons, the gourd plant sang songs, spreading the fresh smell of gourds around it. People usually didn't suspect, because it was normal for songs to float during those days of lonely windy slow afternoons thickened by the sounds of cooing doves as attempts to impress their female mates. The songs sung by the creeper plant were soft. Even if someone stood near it, it sounded as if it came from a distance, as if a faraway woman was singing.

***

Maybe because of the guilt, Romola hadn't been on that side for weeks after she had buried Tejimola. So, one afternoon, after lunch, when a lanky beggar-woman came asking for gourds she was surprised.

"Foolish beggar, you must be day dreaming. I haven't eaten gourds for weeks and in fact, to cook the rohu-fish for dinner, I sent my son just a while ago looking for a good matured one in someone's house. Where the hell have you seen gourds?"

"I wouldn't lie, Aaideu!" The woman addressed her respectfully, "You are the owner of this house; if you don't want to give me a gourd when you have so many, I don't have anything to say."

The woman turned to leave. Her dirty clothes around her emaciated body swayed in the breeze.

"I really don't know what you are talking about - if you have seen any, go help yourself — I got no problem." Romola said and continued with her footloom, trying to make a beautiful blue flower bloom there. Irritated, she started to grumble about greedy beggar women.

Soon after, howling and crying, the woman returned and fainted right in front of her.

Romola was stunned.

Grumbling and hollering, she rushed indoors and came out with a glass of cold water that she sprinkled on the woman's eyes and face.

"Are you okay? Are you okay? What happened? What did you see?"

When she regained consciousness after a long time, she said, sitting up, with sweat still dripping from her head, beads of perspiration still emerging on her forehead, "There is a ghost in that creeper plant! It says she is Tejimola and her step-mom had killed her because of a silk dress! Who is she?"

***

Romala paced in the veranda from one end to the other. She was petrified because some people in the village were already asking about her and she had said that she hadn't returned after her best friend's wedding. Suddenly she decided to do something about it — it's just a plant! She is dead! She went it, took a huge machete and walked to the backyard towards the creeper plant. She strained her ears and heard that someone was singing a 'parting wedding song'. Quickly, without wasting further time, she chopped the plant into pieces. The tender seeds of the gourd plant flew around; its juice stained her white dress, and she panted and sweated. There were four-hundred and fifty nine large gourds in the plants, ninety-two immature ones, and three-thousand and forty-five flowers, which she picked up one by one - first on her own and later helped by her two sons who returned from the fields after their tang-guti games. The eldest who had gone looking for a gourd hadn't returned yet. Together, they buried them in the farthest corner of the garden by digging a deep hole.

This time, at the place where the twigs, leaves, roots and the mature and immature fruits of the creeper-gourd were buried, there grew a plant of reddish elephant-lime. A few weeks later, when the yet-to-be-men village cowherds came asking for lush ripe limes that were growing at the farthest corner of her backyard-garden, she didn't worry until they started to flee, screaming at the top of their voice.

Romola was sitting in front of her courtyard, grating a coconut. One of them flung himself on the ground in front of her, thick white froth oozing out of his mouth like a mischievous idea germinating in a child's mind. Another one sat and cried like a baby. Before fainting, the one who cried like a baby told her about a singing lime tree:

Don't you dare stretch your hands,

I am not a lime tree,

ground and buried

because of a pair of silk dress,

it's me,

its me

Tejimola.

***

By the time Dhaniram Saud reached his village, it was autumn. Fields had turned golden with swaying ripe paddy-stalks, welcoming the clear skies where stars bloomed in millions like tiny yellow flowers in a mustard field. Far away in a distant village in lower-Assam, he had met a guy who he thought would be the best for Tejimola. Hardworking and muscular, he touched the feet of elders, listened to his mother, helped his grandmother grind her betel in an iron-pestle with lime stone until they were bright-red and felt sharply on the tongue. He wasn't a smoker, had no bad habits. He slept early, rose early. His skin was the colour of gold for he always bathed before sunrise. The boat was nearing his village. The sound of splashing water while the oak-wood oars made way along with the rhythmic song of the boatman almost sent him into a thin lull:

Kanai, take us to the other shore

The sun has created long shadows now.

If you take too long to reach home,

Your milk will curdle,

Won't your mother scold you then?

Kanai, take us to the other shore

As soon as you can!

He was woken up by the excited chatter of one of his crewmembers.

"Look at that!"

"No, no, I have seen many, but this is divine."

"Arrey don't go, it might be charmed …"

"Yes, yes, we are not very far from Mayong — the land of sorcerers!"

"That's true; they turn human beings into buffaloes and make them work in the fields."

Dhaniram Saud sat up, wore his turban, checked if the tail fell gracefully on his spine and walked out from his resting place where a soft bed was spread for him with fruits, water, and betel nuts placed in a finely woven bamboo-creel. Even the most wonderful sight amazed him: he had never seen a bigger brighter redder lotus in his life — as large as an umbrella crafted from bamboo. In the distance, he saw the large steamers of the British moving slowly towards Calcutta, carrying goods and students who went to study in colleges there. One or two men stood out, looking at them, their white skin shining like ivory in the sun.

"I am going to pluck this for Tejimola, only a daughter like her, only a beautiful girl like her deserves it."

And the lotus sang, retelling a mournful story starting with a rat, a smolder, and a friend's wedding. Dhaniram Saud didn't believe her but Tejimola could sing only once so when he ordered for the lotus plant to be uprooted and thrown away, she couldn't sing again, protest, beg.

Suddenly, when they were about to uproot the misleading, evil lotus, he said, "Stop!"

He looked closely at the blood red flower, opened both his palms.

He took a fresh piece of betel on one, and spat out chewed betel on another. "If you are the real Tejimola, you will turn into a skylark and come and peck on the chewed betel on my right palm. If you are some a ghost trying to delude me, you will come and chew the fresh piece of betel on my left hand. If I have lived a virtuous life, if I have respected my parents, if I truly believe in God, you will be compelled by the divine forces of nature to follow my commands!"

The air was suddenly still.

A bee went near the lotus but went away without sitting on it.

A dragonfly went to sit on its centre but went a different route in the air.

The steamer carrying goods and students to Calcutta was far away now. So far away that it looked as if it were merging into the hills at the background.

One man in the crew said, "The lotus breathes, I felt it."

"I command you. If I have lived a virtuous life, if I have respected my parents, if I truly believe in God…"

Dhaniram Saud hollered again.

***

When he reached home that afternoon, he carried a caged brown skylark.

The step-mom didn't ask anything about it. When asked where Tejimola was, she started to howl and said that she had eloped with a guy when she went to her best friend's wedding. So ashamed she was that she didn't bother to tell any of the villagers. Her three sons, in varying stages of adolescence with varying lengths of incipient beards on their chins and upper-lips, lied that they went to enquire about in her best friend's village and several people there had confessed secretly, saying that they didn't want to taint the name of the famous Dhaniram Saud, so they were keeping quiet.

He took a long piece of red-bordered sador, went near the cage and said, "My daughter, now I command you to take your real form and wear this."

A month later, the village saw the most wonderful wedding they had ever seen, stories of which they would tell their great-grandchildren.

The step-mom was never seen; while in a corner of the village where people didn't go, for the rest of their lives the three sons kept thinking of different plots of harm to Tejimola and her husband. They never succeeded

THE TALE OF THE CAT’S DAUGHTERS

A family had a pet cat. She was about to deliver kittens. At the 
same time, the lady of the house too was pregnant. As the cat wanted 
to eat fish, she said to the mistress, "I have a great desire to eat fish. 
The mistress replied, "My sweet girl, how can I give you fish to eat 
unless you bring it?" Hearing this, from that day onwards, the cat used 
to bring fish from other people's house, by stealing or by force. On the 
other hand, the mistress used to cook and eat the fish and, the fish- 
bones were given to the cat. In this way, she was deprived of the fish 
which she collected every day. At this, she felt very hurt and cursed the 
mistress, "Whatever my womb is bearing, let it go to her and whatever 
her womb is bearing, let it come to me." 



Both the cat and the lady of the house were pregnant. 




z 


UKAINUMA o 


THE TALE OF THE CAT'S DAUGHTERS 


3 


Truly ! After a few days, the mistress gave birth to two kittens while 
the cat gave birth to two baby-girls. The cat somehow managed to bring 
up the two girls with affection. Leaving the girls behind, she used to go 
out in search of fish, milk and other eatables. As the two girls grew 
up, they became concerned and one day said to the cat, "Mother, if 
someone kills you while going to the village, how would we come to 
know and what should we do?" Then, the cat planted a basil sapling 
and placed a round earthem-vessel containing milk and said, "If 
someone kills me, then this plant will wither and the milk in the vessel 
will turn black. Then you go out in search of me". A few days later, the 
plant withered and the milk in the vessel turned black. Knowing what 
must have taken place, they went out in search of their mother. They 
came quite a distance when the younger of the two felt thirsty. While 
searching for water, they reached a river. 



While searching for water, the two sisters reached a river. 


Leaving her sister on the bank, the elder one descended to bring 
water. After quenching her thirst, she was about to collect water for her 
younger sister. As she was doing so, the water dried up and the prince 
of the river said, "If you hand over your ring to me, then only you can 
take some water". Compared to her sister, the ring was of no value. So, 
she gave the ring in return for some water. After drinking water, the 
younger sister sent the elder one to bring back the ring. This time, as 
soon as the elder sister descended to the river, the prince of the river 
took her away. When she saw her sister being taken away, the younger 
one sat on the bank and cried 
aloud. After some time, a 
merchant was coming along 
the river. On seeing the 
beautiful girl sitting alone on 
the bank, he took her away in 
his boat. 

When he reached home, 
he accorded her the status of 
his third wife. The merchant 
showered more affection on his 
newly-wed tender-aged wife 
than on his other two wives. 

Out of jealousy, the two older 
wives began to think of ways 
to make their husband hate his 
third wife. On the ceremonial 
function occasioned by the 
birth of the third wife's first 
child, the other two 
blindfolded her saying that she begot a pestle and floated the new-born 
male child on the river. Next time too, in the same way, they lied to her 
that she begot a pumpkin and made the male baby to drift along the 
river. On the other hand, when the elder sister who was carried away 
by the river-prince came to know that the babies belonged to her 
younger sister, she adopted them and brought them up. The merchant 
thought these incidents of birth to be true and considered the youngest 
wife to be a cursed woman. He drove her out of his house and built 
a house for her in the backyard. She used to stay in that house in 
sorrow. One day when the merchant was venturing out on business, 
the river-prince seized of his boat in the mid-stream. The merchant was 



The younger sister sat on the bank 
and cried aloud

page 1

Page 1

"Dear!" Indoria exclaimed, clamping her hands together and acting quite delighted as she scanned mysterious-looking eyes over Brogan's shapely form.  "Brett will be pleased."

Indoria leaned forward, poured out a cup of steaming coffee from the copper pot, then handed it to Brogan.  The cup was so hot that she had to maneuver it about, grasping the handle as she had almost dropped it onto the plush Oriental rug supporting the mahogany coffee table.  That would have been a disaster, she silently mocked - a bit leery of her new employer's lackadaisical demeanor.

Indoria McKay - flighty, feather-headed, awkward and friendly - a summation that had taken Brogan a handful of minutes to conclude, as the middle-aged woman was an easy read.  And she had decided that her time at The Crooked Run ranch would be an enjoyable one with Indoria on board.  The waters would be continually turning over, Indoria appearing unable to embrace the calm.

"Why it's been years since we've had a portrait sitting - at least two," Indoria thoughtfully emitted, tensing her brow as she struggled to remember.  "And even though it's just me and Brett, I still like to refer to the painting as a family portrait. Don't you agree dear?"

Brogan nodded and Indoria rushed forward, "Brett - it's his fault, you know?"

Again, before giving Brogan an opportunity to respond to the comment, Indoria continued without inhaling, "He is always so busy playing with the ranch. I wish he would become that infatuated with a woman," she went on to confide, her voice easing down to a mere whisper as she leaned toward Brogan.

Brogan produced a weak smile, concentrating on the sizzling coffee cup rather than Indoria.  She was a bit amused with the cup design - a flock of large steers parading around the china.  Flock?  No, that wasn't quite right.  Fledging of cows?  No - cattle, she went on to hastily correct.  She had never been good with identifying groups of animals.  Herd!  A herd of cattle she remembered, a smile fixing itself onto her pink lips as she silently congratulated herself.

However, it swiftly faded as she looked up, her eyes connecting with Indoria's as the woman trickled out, "I'm glad that you see what I mean, dear.