by Satyajit Ray
‘OK. But do tell me if there’s a problem. And don’t be frightened of me. What is there to be frightened of, anyway? Do you think I’m a monster that I’ll eat you alive? Ha, ha, ha, ha . . .’
Shibu ran all the way to his house. He found Hiren Uncle in the living-room. Hiren Uncle lived in Calcutta. He was extremely fond of fishing. Very often he came over on weekends and went fishing at Saraldeeghi with Shibu’s father.
They would probably go again this time, for he saw that certain preparations had been made. But Hiren Uncle had also brought a gun. There was some talk of shooting ducks. Shibu’s father could handle guns, although his aim was not as good as Hiren Uncle’s.
Shibu went straight to bed after dinner. He had no doubt now that Janardan Babu was a monster. Thank God Phatik-da had already warned him. If he hadn’t, who knows what might have happened at the brick kiln? Shibu shivered and stared out of the window.
Everything shone in the moonlight. He had gone to bed early because he had to wake up early the next morning to study for his exams. Normally, he could not sleep with the light on. But today, if the moonlight had not been so good, he would have left the light on. He felt too frightened today to sleep alone in the dark. The others had not yet finished having dinner.
Shibu was still looking out of the window, half asleep, when the sight of a man made him sit up in terror.
The man was heading straight for his window. He stooped slightly and wore glasses. The glasses gleamed in the moonlight.
Janardan Babu!
Shibu’s throat felt parched once more.
Janardan Babu tiptoed his way to the open window; Shibu clutched his pillow tight.
Janardan Babu looked around for a bit and then said somewhat hesitantly, in a strange nasal tone, ‘Shibram? Are you there?’
Good God—even his voice sounded different! Did the monster in him come out so openly at night?
He called again, ‘Shibram!’
This time Shibu’s mother heard him from the veranda and shouted, ‘Shibu! There’s someone outside calling for you. Have you gone to sleep already?’
Janardan Babu vanished from the window. A minute later, Shibu heard his voice again, ‘Shibram had left his geometry book among the bricks. Since it’s Sunday tomorrow, I thought I’d come and return it right away. He may need it . . .’
Then he lowered his voice and Shibu failed to catch what he said. But, after a while, he heard his father say, ‘Yes, if you say so. I’ll send him over to your house. Yes, from tomorrow.’
Shibu did not utter a word, but he screamed silently, ‘No, no, no! I won’t go, I won’t! You don’t know anything! He’s a monster! He’ll gobble me up if I go to his house!’
The next morning Shibu went straight to Phatik-da’s house. There was such a lot to tell.
Phatik-da greeted him warmly. ‘Welcome! Isn’t there a cactus near your house? Can you bring me a few bits and pieces of that plant? I’ve thought of a new recipe.’
Shibu whispered, ‘Phatik-da!’
‘What?’
‘Remember you told me Janardan Babu was a monster . . .?’
‘Who said that?’
‘Why, you did!’
‘Of course not. You did not notice my words, either.’ ‘How?’
‘I said try to notice Janardan Babu’s teeth. Then you came back and said he had large canine teeth. So I said I had heard monsters had similar teeth. That does not necessarily mean Janardan Babu is a monster.’
‘Isn’t he?’
‘I did not say he was.’
‘So what do I do now?’
Phatik-da got up, stretched lazily and yawned. Then he said, ‘Saw your uncle yesterday. Has he come fishing again? Once a Scotsman called McCurdy killed a tiger with a fishing rod. Have you heard that story?’
Shibu grew desperate, ‘Phatik-da, stop talking nonsense. Janardan Babu is really a monster. I know it. I have seen and heard such a lot!’
Then he told Phatik-da everything that had happened over the last two days. Phatik-da grew grave as he heard the tale. In the end he said, ‘Hmm. So what have you decided to do?’
‘You tell me what I should do. You know so much.’ Phatik-da bent his head deep in thought.
‘We have got a gun in our house,’ said Shibu suddenly. This annoyed Phatik-da.
‘Don’t be silly. You can’t kill a monster with a gun. The bullet would make an about turn and hit the same person who pulled the trigger.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, my dear boy.’
‘So what do I do?’ Shibu asked again. ‘What’s going to happen, Phatik-da? My father wants me to start from today . . .’
‘Oh, shut up. You talk too much.’
After about two minutes of silence Phatik-da suddenly said, ‘Have to go.’
‘Where?’
‘To Janardan Babu’s house.’ ‘What?’
‘I must look at his horoscope. I am not sure yet. But his horoscope is bound to tell me something. And I bet he has it hidden somewhere in his house.’
‘But . . .’
‘Wait a minute. Listen to the plan first. We will both go in the afternoon. It’s Sunday today, so the man will be at home. You will go to the back of his house and call him. Tell him you’ve come for your maths lesson. Then keep him there for a few minutes. Say anything you like, but don’t let him go back into the house. I will try to find the horoscope in the meantime. And then you run away from one side and I from the other.’
‘And then?’ asked Shibu. He did not like the plan much, but Phatik- da was his only hope.
‘Then you’ll come to my house in the evening. By then I will have seen his horoscope. If he is indeed a monster, I know what to do about it. And if he’s not, there is no cause for anxiety, is there?’
Shibu turned up again at Phatik-da’s house soon after lunch. Phatik- da came out about five minutes later and said, ‘My cat has started to take snuff. There are problems everywhere!’
Shibu noticed Phatik-da was carrying a pair of torn leather gloves and the bell of a bicycle. He handed the bell to Shibu and said, ‘Ring this bell if you feel you’re in danger. I will come and rescue you.’
Janardan Babu lived at the far end of town. He lived all alone, without even a servant. It was impossible to tell from the outside that a monster lived there.
Shibu and Phatik made their separate ways to the house. As he began to find his way to the back of the house, Shibu’s throat started to go dry again. What if, when he was supposed to call out to Janardan Babu, his voice failed him?
There was a high wall behind the house, a door in the middle of the wall, and a guava tree near the door. Several wild plants and weeds grew around the tree.
Shibu went forward slowly. He must hurry or the whole plan would get upset.
He leant against the guava tree for a bit of moral support and was about to call out to Janardan Babu when he was startled by the sound of something shuffling near his feet. Looking down, he saw a chameleon glide across the ground and disappear behind a bush. There were some white objects lying near the bush. He picked up a fallen twig and parted the bush with it to take a closer look. Oh no! The white objects were bones! But whose bones were they?
Dogs? Cats? Or lambs?
‘What are you looking at, Shibram?’
The same nasal voice.
A cold shiver went down Shibu’s spine. He turned around quickly and saw Janardan Babu standing at his back door, watching him with a queer look in his eyes.
‘Have you lost something?’
‘No, sir I . . . I . . .’
‘Were you coming to see me? Why did you come to the back door? Well, do come in.’
Shibu tried retracing his steps, but discovered that one of his feet was caught in a creeper.
‘I have got a cold, I’m afraid,’ said Janardan Babu. ‘I’ve had it since yesterday. I went to your house. You were sleeping.’
Shibu knew he must not run away so soon. Phatik-da could not have finished h
is job. He might even get caught. Should he ring the bell?
No, he was not really in danger, was he? Phatik-da might get annoyed if he rang it unnecessarily.
‘What were you looking at so keenly?’
Shibu could not think of a suitable answer. Janardan Babu came forward.
‘This place is very dirty. It’s better not to come from this side. My dog brings bones from somewhere and leaves them here. I have often thought of scolding him, but I can’t. You see, I’m very fond of animals . . .’
Again, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Come on in, Shibram. We must do something about your maths.’
Shibu could not wait any longer. ‘Not today, sir. I’ll come back tomorrow,’ he said and ran away.
He did not stop running until he came to the old and abandoned house of the Sahas, quite a long way away. Goodness—he would never forget what had happened today. He didn’t know he had such a lot of courage!
But what had Phatik-da learnt from the horoscope? Shibu went to his house again in the evening. Phatik-da shook his head as soon as he saw Shibu.
‘Problems,’ he said, ‘great problems.’
‘Why, Phatik-da? Didn’t you find the horoscope?’
‘Yes, I did. Your maths teacher is undoubtedly a monster. And a Pirindi monster, at that. These were full-fledged monsters 350 generations ago. But their genes were so strong that even now it’s possible to find a half-monster among them. No civilized country, of course, has full monsters nowadays. You can find some in the wild parts of Africa, Brazil and Borneo. But half-monsters are in existence elsewhere in very small numbers. Janardan Babu is one of them.’
‘Then where is the problem?’ Shibu’s voice trembled a little. If Phatik- da could not help, who could?
‘Didn’t you tell me this morning you knew what to do?’ ‘There is nothing I do not know.’
‘Well, then?’
Phatik-da grew a little grave. Then, suddenly, he asked, ‘What’s inside a fish?’
Oh no, he had started talking nonsense again. Shibu nearly started weeping, ‘Phatik-da, we were talking about monsters. What’s that got to do with fish?’
‘Tell me!’ Phatik-da yelled.
‘Intestines?’ Phatik-da’s yell had frightened Shibu.
‘No, no, you ass. With such retarded knowledge, you couldn’t even put a buckle on a buck! Listen. I heard this rhyme when I was only two- and-a-half. I still remember it:
Man or animal whichever thou art
Thy life beats in thy own heartt
A monster’s life lies in the stomach of a fish
Cannot kill him easily, even if you wish.’
Of course! Shibu, too, had read about this in so many fairy tales. A monster’s life always lay hidden inside a fish. He should have known.
‘When you met him this afternoon, how did he seem?’ asked Phatik.
‘He said he had a cold and a slight fever.’
‘Yes, it all fits in,’ Phatik’s eyes began to sparkle with enthusiasm. ‘It has to. His life’s in danger, you see. As soon as the fish is out of water, he gets fever. Good!’
Then he came forward and clutched Shibu by the collar. ‘Perhaps it’s not too late. I saw your uncle go back to your house with a huge fish. I thought Janardan Monster’s life might be in it. Now that you’ve told me about his illness I’m beginning to feel more sure. We must cut open that fish.’
‘But how can we do that?’
‘We can, with your help. It won’t be easy, but you’ve got to do it. If you don’t, I shudder to think what might happen to you!’
About an hour later Shibu arrived at Phatik-da’s house dragging the huge fish by the cord he had tied around it.
‘Hope no one saw you?’
‘No,’ Shibu panted. ‘Father was having a bath. Uncle was getting a massage and Mother was inside. It took me some time to find a cord. God—is it heavy!’
‘Never mind, you’ll grow muscles!’
Phatik-da took the fish inside. Shibu sat marvelling at Phatik-da’s knowledge of things. If anyone could rescue him from the danger he was in, it was going to be Phatikda. Dear God—do let him find what he was looking for.
Ten minutes later, Phatik-da came out and stretched a hand towards Shibu, ‘Here. Take this. Keep it with you all the time. Put it under your pillow at night. When you go to school, keep it in your left pocket. If you hold it in your hand, the monster is totally powerless and if you crush it into a powder he’ll be dead. In my view, you need not crush it because some Pirindi monsters have been known to turn into normal men at the age of fifty-four. The age of your Janardan Monster is fifty-three years, eleven months and twenty-six days.’
Shibu finally found the courage to look down at what he was holding. A small, slightly damp, white stone lay on his palm, winking in the light of the moon that had just risen.
Shibu put it in his pocket and turned to go. Phatikda called him back, ‘Your hands smell fishy, wash them carefully. And pretend not to know anything about anything!’
The next day, Janardan Babu sneezed once just before entering class and, almost immediately, knocked his foot against the threshold and damaged his shoe. Shibu’s left hand, at that precise moment, was resting in his left pocket.
After a long time, Shibu got full marks in maths that day.
Translated by Gopa Majumdar
First published in Bengali in 1963
Patol Babu, Film Star
Patol Babu had just hung his shopping-bag on his shoulder when Nishikanto Babu called from outside the main door. ‘Patol, are you in?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Patol Babu. ‘Just a minute.’
Nishikanto Ghosh lived three houses away from Patol Babu in Nepal Bhattacharji Lane. He was a genial person.
Patol Babu came out with the bag. ‘What brings you here so early in the morning?’
‘Listen, what time will you be back?’
‘In an hour or so. Why?’
‘I hope you’ll stay in after that. I met my youngest brother-in-law in Netaji Pharmacy yesterday. He is in the film business, in the production department. He said he was looking for an actor for a scene in a film they’re now shooting. The way he described the character—fiftyish, short, bald-headed—it reminded me of you. So I gave him your address and asked him to get in touch with you directly. I hope you won’t turn him away. They’ll pay you, of course.’
Patol Babu hadn’t expected such news early in the morning. That an offer to act in a film could come to a fifty-two-year-old non-entity like him was beyond his wildest dreams.
‘Well, yes or no?’ asked Nishikanto Babu. ‘I believe you did some acting on the stage at one time?’
‘That’s true,’ said Patol Babu. ‘I really don’t see why I should say no. But let’s talk to your brother-in-law first and find out some details. What’s his name?’
‘Naresh. Naresh Dutt. He’s about thirty. A strapping young fellow. He said he would be here around ten-thirty.’
In the market, Patol Babu mixed up his wife’s orders and bought red chillies instead of onion seeds. And he quite forgot about the aubergines. This was not surprising. At one time Patol Babu had a real passion for the stage; in fact, it verged on obsession. In jatras, in amateur theatricals, in plays put up by the club in his neighbourhood, Patol Babu was always in demand. His name had appeared in handbills on countless occasions. Once it appeared in bold type near the top: ‘Sitalakanto Ray (Patol Babu) in the role of Parasar’. Indeed, there was a time when people bought tickets especially to see him.
That was when he used to live in Kanchrapara. He had a job in the railway factory there. In 1934, he was offered higher pay in a clerical post with Hudson and Kimberley in Calcutta, and was also lucky to find a flat in Nepal Bhattacharji Lane. He gave up his factory job and came to Calcutta with his wife. The sailing was smooth for some years, and Patol Babu was in his boss’s good books. In 1943, when he was just toying with the idea of starting a club in his neighbourhood, sudden retrench
ment in his office due to the war cost him his nine-year-old job.
Ever since then Patol Babu had struggled to make a living. At first he opened a variety store which he had to wind up after five years. Then he had a job in a Bengali firm which he gave up in disgust when his boss began to treat him in too high-handed a fashion. Then, for ten long years, starting as an insurance salesman, Patol Babu tried every means of earning a livelihood without ever succeeding in improving his lot. Of late he had been paying regular visits to a small establishment dealing in scrap iron where a cousin of his had promised him a job.
And acting? That had become a thing of the remote past; something which he recalled at times with a sigh. Endowed with a wonderful memory, Patol Babu would still reel off lines from some of the best parts he had played. ‘Listen, O listen to the thunderous twang of the mighty bow Gandiva engaged in gory conflict, and to the angry roar of the mountainous club whizzing through the air in the hands of the great Brikodara!’ It sent a shiver down his spine just to think of such lines.
Naresh Dutt turned up at half past twelve. Patol Babu had given up hope and was about to go for his bath when there was a knock on the front door.
‘Come in, come in, sir!’ Patol Babu almost dragged the young man in and pushed the broken-armed chair towards him. ‘Do sit down.’
‘No, thanks. I—er—I expect Nishikanto Babu told you about me?’ ‘Oh yes. I must say I was quite taken aback. After so many years . . .’
‘I hope you have no objection?’
‘You think I’ll be all right for the part?’ Patol Babu asked with great diffidence.
Naresh Dutt cast an appraising look at Patol Babu and gave a nod. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘There is no doubt about that. By the way, the shooting takes place tomorrow morning.’
‘Tomorrow? Sunday?’
‘Yes, and not in the studio. I’ll tell you where you have to go. You know Faraday House near the crossing of Bentinck Street and Mission Row? It’s a seven-storey office building. The shooting takes place outside the office in front of the entrance. We’ll expect you there at eight-thirty sharp. You’ll be through by midday.’