Even though Adri doesn’t want to probe such matters too deeply, he does understand a little. Since yesterday, has he been able to be as detached as before? And what is the use of being so? It is best to calmly accept whatever upheaval was coming. Best in the sense that his true self will thus be exposed – and whatever else happened, it is after all a fact that a kind of apathy is at work inside him. Whatever happened, that force will remain at the foundation of everything. So if he thinks about Ramola today… if he sends a specific present for Ramola – he has been so preoccupied since yesterday about precisely what he should give her! So where do matters stand then? Adri shakes himself. Matters don’t stand anywhere, it is merely an exception for a day and nothing else.
Puffing on another newly lit cigarette, all of Adri’s enthusiasm subsides. He should give something. When she has invited him, reciprocating is a gesture of civility. But to think so much about it – what is there to be so excited about, as he has been since last night? But yes, it is proper to give something, though it should not be like anyone else’s gift. Adri is unique in this world; there is only one Adrikumar Roy in this world. If he dies, just this one person alone dies. The gift too should be just as unique.
But he might as well not give anything; it is just as well not to worry about all this. Someone called Ramola – he had known her once, what is there to be civil about? Would anybody point his finger at him and say: ‘Despite being invited by Ramola, Adri didn’t go?’ No one would say that, no one would say anything. The matter is so trivial that he himself would forget about the whole incident in a couple of days. Hence, there is no need to think so much about it.
Now he can lie in bed for a long time without thinking about anything, without worrying about anything. He can stare at the things in the room and smoke any number of cigarettes. But Adri can’t remain lying like this for very long. An uneasiness within keeps pricking at him. He puffs at the cigarette and throws it away to the corner of the room. It burns for a while, smoke rises, and finally it extinguishes and becomes a heap of ash.
Adri realizes that it is becoming increasingly difficult for him to find release from all this. It is this lying in bed that leads to all kinds of thoughts crowding in his head. It is much safer to roam around. There would be no specific direction, just wandering around wherever his eyes go.
Despite wanting to get up, Adri idles for some more time. Random images of Ramola’s face come to mind. A host of tiny memories crowd his thoughts. Finally, Adri pulls himself up. Outside, the terrible April sun. The rooms of the lodgers who leave for office by ten are locked. Adri goes down the stairs. Where is he going? Lost in thought, Adri descends, turns to the left once to relieve himself and then goes directly to the road outside. He is still wearing the trousers from yesterday, he hasn’t changed. His face is unshaven. Adri felt it with his hands but didn’t shave. What is the point, what is the point of doing all this?
Coming out onto the road, he sees the sun is beating down. In the lane, kids are playing marbles. There is a bit of shade there. A crow flies down from somewhere and alights on the broken wall, looks this way and that a few times and caws loudly, then flies away. Adri turns the corner and reaches the tramline.
Where is he going, in which direction? He can get by without thinking about that – after all, he is moving in some direction. A tram, crammed with people, passes by, swaying. People hanging from the outside too, so skilfully. A double-decker bus goes by, clouding the whole place with black smoke. At the kerb, the horn of a car is stuck, an old black model. The horn blares unbearably, as if the place is falling apart in that incessant noise. People are crowding around, the public curious. Adri finds it very amusing. The driver is frantically pressing this side and that side of the car – the noise just doesn’t stop. The traffic policeman who has been standing at the kerb, umbrella in hand, moves forward. Adri doesn’t wait there – heck, don’t like it!
He crosses the road. Quite a few people at the bus stop, wearing freshly laundered clothes, anxiously waiting for the bus. The whole world is really so busy, all engrossed in their duties. In their midst, he alone has no work… Amazing! In this wide world, he alone has no important work, he would never have to be busy like them and rush around. Adri feels an ache somewhere. He can see it is good for him in a way. He has no debts in the world, no responsibilities. This wandering around aimlessly, this silent, unperturbed saga… life is just passing by, will come to an end too one day.
But since yesterday, Ramola has been part of his thoughts. Amazing… Ramola is deeply entrenched, despite everything. He hasn’t been able to keep thoughts about Ramola at bay. Adri feels quite annoyed now.
Adri feels really helpless then, on that sunny pavement. How like a lifeless puppet he is being assailed by such thoughts! Angrily, Adri searches his pockets for a cigarette. There aren’t any. Fortunately, his wallet is in his pocket. The whole of last night, he had felt a mild ache on his left side. Now he realizes he hadn’t taken his wallet out last night and it had been under his chest all night. Amazing! Nothing seems to have an impact on him nowadays. Life is moving along just fine.
He stands in front of a paan shop, holds out a few coins and is about to ask for cigarettes when he sees his face floating in the mirror in front. What a sight he is! Whose image is this? Adri is quite unrecognizable. Just as well – what is the point of being in good health, what is the point of being of sound mind, what is the use of worrying about all this? He lights a cigarette and gustily blows a mouthful of smoke towards the mirror. He hears someone calling his name.
Looking around, he sees Abani waving and calling him from across the street. Why Abani now, he would simply bother him… He had been an intimate friend once, how like a stranger he has become now.
He sees how Abani, fatigueless, scampers past the speeding cars like a nimble horse and comes to him. He comes and shakes his shoulder: ‘Hey man, what have you done to yourself, can’t even recognize you!’ Adri observes him, his well-kempt appearance – in the prime of health. Adri wonders why he doesn’t feel jealous looking at Abani. Some time back, when Abani hadn’t got the job in the bank, how skinny he had been! It is evident he is really happy now.
And with this thought, Adri wonders what it means to be happy. How does one have to be to be considered happy? Isn’t he happy? Is he unhappy? He doesn’t feel that way. Abani is saying, ‘Hey man, why aren’t you saying anything? You used to talk a bit before! What’s up? Have you stopped even that now?’ Adri laughs. Laughing, he greets Abani, says, ‘What’s happening with you?’ As Abani pulls him by his hand, Adri gazes at him. Abani says, ‘Come on, let’s sit somewhere. Good that we met, need to talk to you.’
After they sit down at a teashop, Abani lights an expensive cigarette and blows out smoke. Adri sees Abani’s eyes contracted in pleasure. Offered a cigarette, he too lights up. Looks, sees the folds on Abani’s neck, the immaculately shaven face. Abani is saying something. He lifts his face and looks at Abani. He is saying, ‘You’ve remained the vagabond you were, Adri, you don’t feel sorrow, don’t feel any pain… Do you know Trilochan is now the chief of a top-class firm, a salary of something like two thousand rupees?’ Adri laughs: ‘That’s great!’ ‘Can you imagine, Adri, this Trilochan once used to beg and smoke bidis from you, and you…’
Adri sees that Abani gapes at his face and stops talking. Abani has realized that it is pointless telling him all this. Amazing! Why does Abani grasp everything so slowly…
‘So what’s up with you…’ Adri has to say something like this. Abani says, ‘Nothing at all, pal, still stuck in that branch.’ Adri sees that Abani looks frightfully unhappy right now. Abani is not happy with his job. Abani now wants to be Trilochan. But Adri will never want to be like Abani. Adri realizes how it troubled Abani to think about Trilochan. But Adri feels no pain. Adri doesn’t want to be Abani. He doesn’t want to be Trilochan. He doesn’t feel troubled inside, feels no pain. No feelings.
On Abani’s order, the waiter comes and hand
s them two cups of tea, hot tea. Adri watches the smoke rise. So Abani isn’t happy either. Robust, brimming with youthful vigour, wonderful, smart clothes, meticulously shaven face, expensive cigarettes – and yet Abani isn’t happy. But is he happy, or isn’t he happy? What does the word ‘happy’ mean? Adri hears Abani saying something again. He looks at Abani’s face. Why is Abani staring at him? What is he looking at? ‘Hey pal, what news of Ramola?’ Hearing this, Adri realizes that someone has rung a bell inside him, it rings – ding dong! So he can’t forget about Ramola! A newspaper lies in front. Adri picks it up and begins reading.
After all this time, why Ramola again? Who is Ramola? He doesn’t know any Ramola. Adri turns to Abani and laughs. ‘Why, what’s the matter?’ After all this time, why Ramola again? Ramola is just a girl’s name, some girl’s name, no more than that… Abani is speaking again, saying something: ‘Do you know Ramola’s marrying a professor?’ But what does that matter to Adri? Let a girl called Ramola marry a professor or a businessman, how does that concern him? He should give her a present, that is all, only that much … Abani wants to say something more. Adri sees that Abani is now feeling sad for him. Like a true friend, Abani feels for him. But nothing in the world matters at all to Adri. Why can’t Abani understand this? But yes, this Adri is alone in the world. No good, no bad, no grief, no sorrow, just one responsibility, one duty ahead of him – to send a present of some sort to the wedding festivities tonight.
Having admitted this much, Adri feels relieved. Adri wonders how much more is left to be exposed before him. He looks at Abani who is saying something now: ‘You’re an amazing chap, Adri, you don’t feel the slightest sadness…’ Abani stops midway, perhaps he thinks it is futile telling him. Adri feels ill at ease. He pores over the newspaper. A plane crash somewhere, reported in big, bold type. Finance minister’s speech… Plop, ssssss, glug glug. That’s all! Great advertisement: a girl drops a sherbet tablet – plop – into a glass of water, with a sound – ssssss – the tablet dissolves in the water and makes a sherbet, glug glug – the girl drinks it all up. That’s all, and all cold! More advertisements… Donate blood at the blood bank to help the sick. Adri’s eyes zoom in on that.
Abani is saying something, but nothing registers. Got it, got the present! Adri hadn’t imagined it would come to him so easily. He wants to jump up! Giving a gift for Ramola’s wedding is no longer a problem for him – he will give her a bottle of blood as a gift, his own blood! He only has to get the blood out of himself, put it into a bottle and then deliver it at the wedding hall. Not a sari, not a pressure cooker, not an iron, nor even a book – but blood, his own fresh, warm blood! What better thing than this could he give Ramola!
Adri realizes he feels a tremendous excitement within himself now, or at least he wants to be excited. It would be something original and elemental, everyone would be stunned! If this had been an earlier time, he would have cut open his breast with a sword and taken out his blood. But times are different now, it is only proper for everything to be in keeping with the times.
Adri is thinking. He can’t remain seated there any more. He puts down the newspaper. What is that Abani is saying, what does he want to say? But he can’t sit here any longer. ‘I’m off, Abani, I need to…’ He sees Abani gaping at him in astonishment. He comes out of the teashop.
It is certainly past noon, and he hasn’t bathed or eaten. So what, he doesn’t like all that. Terribly hot sun. As if the whole world has wilted. Very few people are out on the road now. A fire engine goes by, clanging – dang dang! Two people are waiting for a bus at the bus stop. Someone is purposefully setting up his shoe shop on the pavement. He is looking, walking, taking in everything blankly. A ringing inside his head: ‘I’ll present my own blood for Ramola’s marriage, I’ll give a blood-gift, blood… blood… blood…’
A fire engine goes by again. All the cars suddenly come to a halt, make way. Some fire nearby, or it could be something else. He walks on. As he walks, he looks, and as he looks, he walks.
Adri is walking along absent-mindedly, in no particular direction, without any aim. Finally, he realizes that his legs ache, his head feels heavy. He feels he has walked for a long time, almost an age. Where has he come to now? Looking around, he sees he has left the tramline far behind, left behind the major thoroughfare. This is probably near the fringe of the city, dust in the air. He wonders why he has come here. Wondering, he looks all around, and then he discovers to his great surprise that he had indeed come a long, long way, and this is the way to Ramola’s house!
Standing under the shade of a shop, Adri thinks how, despite being so indifferent, he hasn’t been able to get Ramola off his mind. How helpless Adri was before this thing called the mind. He thinks now about giving blood. He thinks about all that he has done since morning. Thinking thus, he realizes nothing is easy, there is no escaping from oneself. Or from one’s mind. Overwhelmed, Adri stands there for a long time. He looks extremely helpless and pathetic now, like wan sunlight. He is smoking a cigarette disinterestedly, smoking just for the sake of smoking, standing there as he had nothing to do.
Coming back to his own after that, he calls out to a pedestrian and asks what time it is because he feels he has walked for a very long time and is extremely tired. Hearing the time, he recalls that he hasn’t bathed today, hasn’t eaten, he has got out of bed and come straightaway out to the road. And it is late afternoon now. After this, the afternoon too would pass, it would be evening, then evening would turn to night, and night to midnight. Yet he would be completely impervious to the passage of time or its untimeliness. He would be standing just like this, or would be walking, or thinking, just thinking and thinking. There would be no end to such thought. The busy world would eventually tire and slump, but Adrikumar Roy would be thinking because Adri’s thoughts had neither beginning nor end. With that, Adri stirs somewhat and tells himself he will do something today. He forces himself to think about doing something to get the blood now because it would soon be evening… Meaning, it is time.
A lorry goes by, making a frightful noise; the road ahead is filled with dust. A boy screams his lungs out from a house. The sun falls on the opposite pavement, producing a kind of melancholy colour. Adri, true to habit, feels nothing at all. He just walks on along that pavement in shadow. After a while, suddenly coming upon a doctor’s chamber, Adri comes to a halt with a start.
He recalls that he doesn’t know much about giving blood, he has merely heard about it. Doctors would surely be able to help him in this regard. Pondering about such things, he pauses for a bit, and then steps right in. Inside, the doctor sits wearing rectangular-frame spectacles. A ray of light from outside seems to be fixed on the lens. Seeing Adri, he nods his rectangular-spectacle-wearing head and says, ‘Sit down.’
Adri sits down and is about to explain his predicament, but he sees the doctor trying to examine him. Putting the stethoscope to his chest, pulling up his eyelids, looking at his tongue, his face becomes increasingly grave, and before Adri can say anything, rectangular-face begins speaking: ‘Very bad… any fever every now and then?’ Adri interrupts the doctor. ‘What is the use of worrying unnecessarily about one’s health? I am here on an entirely different matter.’
Interrupted, the doctor stares at him. Adri tries as much as he can to explain to the doctor. He needs a bottle of blood – he wants to give his own blood and this should be filled in a bottle, sealed and portable. After explaining everything, he realizes the doctor hasn’t grasped it. The doctor is staring in astonishment at his face, gaping at something.
‘Blood… I mean… but like this…’
Adri listens, and after trying to explain the whole thing afresh to the doctor, notices that the doctor’s forehead is creased, his lips are moving and he is delivering some long sermon in doctor’s jargon. Not understanding a thing, Adri gazes on. He looks at the brown tube of the stethoscope lying on the tabletop, he sees ‘Dr Probir Roy Choudhury, MBBS’ written on the notepad, he sees the curtain of the do
ctor’s chamber swaying in the breeze, he sees the lengthy shadow of the doctor fixed on the wall, and after seeing all this and once again trying to find Dr Probir’s eyes behind the spectacles on his brow, he hears the doctor going on again about something. He is about to ask him: ‘Doctor…’ The doctor is now looking directly at his face and laughing.
The reflected light from his spectacles confuses Adri. The doctor speaks, Adri hears the doctor speaking… ‘This can’t be done…’ Adri makes an effort to speak, he wants to explain that he needs a bottle of blood, it is very important – after all, he wants to give his own blood. In great despair, Adri wants to say all this, he wants to explain he needs it badly.
As the doctor now lowers his face very close to his face, Adri is somewhat embarrassed. The light reflecting like a searchlight from his spectacles searches for his face. ‘Are you crazy, mister… how can blood… like this!’ Realizing it is hopeless, Adri shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers, clenches his fists there, opens them, clenches again, opens again, and emerges outside.
Outside, he sees it is a brilliant dusk. What does it matter whether he got the blood or not? He turns his back to the sunlight and walks ahead. Adri can feel the acute weakness in his body. Nowadays, he becomes breathless after just a little effort. So let it be, Adri consoles himself. He won’t worry too much about such things, let things be. As long as he is ticking, he will tick on, when it becomes difficult to tick, he will die. The plop! sound when a fruit falls from a tree, a gentle sound like that, and then everything will be over. No one to grieve over him, nobody will be concerned.
Shuffling along, Adri now stands over an old abandoned culvert. From there, the station in the distance appears desolate. There is gentle sunlight now on the tin roof of the station and over the houses in the distance. A man swift-footedly crosses the rail tracks and advances towards the station. It will be twilight soon. There is a soft light in the sky and a pleasant breeze is blowing. Adri thinks, surely one train or the other comes to this station sometime in the evening. And so he waits upon that ancient culvert to see the evening train.
The Golden Gandhi Statue From America Page 4