The Complete Short Stories
Page 47
Eshwardas asked, ‘Are you coming from Lahore? Where will you stay in Shahjahanpur?’
‘In an inn for now. I will have to look for a place.’
Eshwardas was surprised. ‘Are you not visiting a friend or a relative there?’
‘I need to find someone.’
‘Where are you from originally?’
‘From Lucknow. But now I have no place. I am a widow.’
5
Eshwardas found a nice house for Maya in Shahjahanpur. He even got her a servant. He would visit regularly to ask after her. Maya tried her best to not take his help, not to get close to him, but he was so kind, guileless and noble that she felt like her hands were tied.
One day he arrived with a lot of flower pots and furniture. He had also got some beautiful picture frames. Maya was angry. ‘I don’t need any decorative things. You trouble yourself unnecessarily.’
Eshwardas was mortified. ‘These things were just lying around in my house unused. So, I got them for this house.’
‘I don’t want to be a slave to these glittery, showy things.’
Scared, Eshwardas replied, ‘Should I get them removed if you don’t want them?’
Maya saw that his eyes were moist. She felt compelled to accept the gifts. ‘Let it be . . . since you have already brought them. But don’t do it again.’
One day, her servant did not show up for work. Maya waited till about eight or nine in the night. Finally she started doing the dishes herself. She had never done this sort of work before, so she was in tears. Gone were the days when there was an army of servants in her house. Now she had to even wash the dishes herself. Tilottama was running around full of energy trying to help her. She was absolutely free of worries. She was happy to work and be of use.
Then, Eshwardas arrived. When he saw Maya washing the dishes, he said, ‘What are you doing? Leave it. Let me call someone. Why didn’t you call me? Please come away.’
Maya said indifferently, ‘There is no need. Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll do it.’
‘But you don’t have to. I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘You don’t have to call anyone. It is not a big deal.’
‘All right. Then let me help you.’
He picked up a vessel and ran out to get water. He came back with the water and started washing the dishes.
Maya tried to pull the vessel out of his hand. ‘You are embarrassing me. Let it be. I’ll finish in a minute.’
‘Who is embarrassing who? You are a traveller in this town and I live here. It is my duty to serve you. You have already been too hard on yourself by not even informing me. This now is too much. I cannot tolerate this.’
Eshwardas finished washing the dishes soon. It seemed like he was used to this kind of work. He even filled all the water jars. Finally, wiping the sweat off his forehead, he said to Maya, ‘Tell me if you need anything from the market. I’ll get it.’
Maya said, ‘I don’t need anything. You may leave.’
Eshwardas called Tilottama to him. ‘Come, Tilottama. I’ll take you out for a walk.’
Maya said, ‘Please don’t. She doesn’t go out for walks at this time.’
Eshwardas was stung by Maya’s indifference. He left without a word. Maya wondered if she had been too hard on him. There was a constant duel inside her head because of the unfortunate incident on the train. She shivered every time she thought of what could have happened to her if Eshwardas had not arrived in time like her guardian angel. And her heart was filled with gratitude. Would she bloody her hands with the murder of a man who had been her saviour? But wasn’t it him who had been responsible for all this? She was on that train without a friend or helper because of him. He was responsible for her widowhood, the pain of which she was suffering now, and would have to suffer for the rest of her life.
Her eyes would get bloodshot when she remembered all this, she would heave a long sigh, wanting to kill him that very instant.
6
At last Maya arrived at a decision. She called Eshwardas for a meal. He may have been a great help to her but no amount of kindness or obligation could erase her pain. Eshwardas arrived at nine for the meal. Maya told him sweetly, ‘Please sit. I’ll get some warm puris for you.’
Eshwardas said, ‘Were you waiting for me? You shouldn’t have troubled yourself in this heat.’
Putting down the plate in front of him, Maya replied, ‘I don’t really know how to cook. Please excuse me if it is not to your taste.’
Eshwardas ate everything with relish and praised her cooking. He had not eaten such delicious food before.
‘You said you didn’t know how to cook.’
‘Was I wrong?’
‘Most definitely. You proved yourself wrong. I have not eaten such delicious khasta in my life.’
‘You are only saying that to please me. Well, it does me no harm.’
‘No, I am not trying to make a fool of you. I am being honest. I want to find some mistake but I cannot. Next time I throw a party for my friends, I’ll trouble you for sure.’
‘Of course. I will be very happy.’
It was ten by the time the dinner was over. It was quiet everywhere. When Eshwardas got up to leave, Maya told him, ‘Are you leaving? Why don’t you stay here tonight? I am a little scared. You sleep in the room and I’ll sleep in the veranda inside.’
Eshwardas thought for a second and then said, ‘All right. You never told me that you were scared to sleep in the house alone or I’d have arranged for someone to spend the night here.’
While Eshwardas went into his room Maya finished her dinner. But she could not swallow a morsel. Her heart was beating rapidly. There was a shadow of fear over her heart. What if Eshwardas woke up? She would be ashamed.
Maya had sharpened the knife. She had practised with it the whole day. She would strike in such a way that there would be no escape. Even if Eshwardas woke up, he would be mortally wounded.
When the clock struck twelve and she could hear Eshwardas’s loud snores, Maya got up with the knife in her hand but she was shivering violently. Fear and resolve, misgivings and revulsion together made her take one step forward and one step back. The house and sky were in a whirl. Everything in the room seemed to be spinning. But in a second, the fever ebbed and her heart clouded with fear. She reached the room where Eshwardas was sleeping and halted. Tears flowed down her eyes. Oh, I am so weak. The man who ruined my life, who destroyed my happy world, who made my existence desolate, who turned my fertile life into a desert and threw me in the fires of hell . . . I’m still unable to take revenge. Those women, who fought with swords and guns in the battlefields and willingly sacrificed themselves on the burning pyres of their husbands, were my sisters too. She imagined Mr Vyas standing in front of her, telling her: ‘Finish the job, avenge me; my soul is thirsty for revenge; will you let me suffer like this forever?’ Was this the true test of her love? These thoughts created an emotional turmoil in her heart. Her eyes reddened, she bit her lips and tightened her grip on the knife. She felt almost intoxicated. She entered the room but by now Eshwardas had woken up. A faint light came from the lantern in the room. Hearing her footsteps, he sat up and paled on seeing the apocalyptic vision of Maya walking towards him with the unsheathed dagger.
He jumped up from the bed and asked in a scared voice, ‘What is it, sister? Why are you carrying this knife?’
Maya replied, ‘This knife is thirsty for your blood because you murdered my husband.’
Eshwardas paled. ‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. You killed my husband in Lahore when he was there for a case. Do you deny it? My husband’s spirit told me about you.’
‘You are Mr Vyas’s wife?’
‘Yes. I am his unfortunate wife and you are the one who caused me to suffer this widowhood. You have been kind to me but no amount of kindness can quell my heart. It will only be satisfied with your death.’
Eshwardas looked at Maya with pleading eyes and said, ‘If that is your decision then
I present my head to you. If my death can bring any solace to your heart then I’d gladly die. But just as you feel duty bound to avenge your husband’s murder, I felt it was my duty to kill Mr Vyas. You are aware that he went to Lahore to fight a political case. But I could not watch the way he used his legal acumen to help the police create false testimonies and destroy the lives of helpless, innocent young men with ruthlessness and heartlessness. Those days the court used to be filled with spectators. Everyone cursed him. I knew the reality of the case so it was not enough for me to just curse or abuse him. What can I say? Mr Vyas turned every lie into truth knowingly and with great skill. He sent many young men to the gallows. Many mothers are weeping bitterly for their lost sons today because of him and many women are forever cursed to be widows. I am not scared of police torture. We don’t expect anything else from them. The police force is full of scoundrels and debauchers. The government has created this department with the sole purpose of crushing the citizens. But we pin our hopes on the lawyers. We respect them. They are the top breed of educated and aware men. We get very angry when we see these men dancing to the tune of the police. I was a fan of Mr Vyas. But I started hating him when I saw him torturing innocent men so they would confess to crimes that they had not committed. The poor accused used to be hung upside down for entire nights. Only to make them confess to the crimes that they had not committed. Chilli smoke used to be thrust into their noses. Mr Vyas didn’t just watch all this happen in front of him. In fact these things were done on his instigation.’
The hardness on Maya’s face receded gradually. In its place was righteous anger. ‘What proof do you have for all that you are saying?’ she asked.
‘Everything I said is common knowledge. Even a child in Lahore knows it. I saw all this with my own eyes. I can give you no other proof. Their only crime was that they were the true sons of this soil and spent all their time helping and educating ordinary people. They would go hungry themselves but they would not let the police and the rulers torture the citizens of this country. This was their crime and to punish them for this, Mr Vyas connived with the police.’
The knife fell from Maya’s hand. Her eyes watered, and she said, ‘I did not know that he was capable of all this.’
Eshwardas said, ‘Don’t think for a moment that I am levelling these charges against your husband because I am scared of your knife. I have never cared for my life. If you do not believe me then pick up this knife and end this life. I will not stop you. If you can’t do that, then call the police. They will kill me easily. It won’t be difficult to collect evidence against me. I would have confessed but I do not think that I have committed a crime. If by ending one life I have saved thousands more then it is not murder. I only want to stay alive because I may be needed again for a similar task.’
Maya was crying now. She said, ‘If you are telling the truth, then I forgive you. Only God will decide whether you did right or wrong. I only request you to lead me to the homes that were destroyed by my husband so that I can go and serve them.’
Translated from the Hindi by Payal Agarwal
Trickery
1
Maya, Pandit Balakram Shastri’s wife, had longed for a necklace for the longest time and had pleaded with Panditji for one over and over again. But Panditji’s answers were always evasive. He didn’t actually say that he didn’t have the money. What would that do to his status as a husband! He would escape into arguments instead. Jewellery is utterly useless, and acquiring it like a disease. One does not get the genuine metal. Pure gold is not available anyway. On top of that the jeweller makes us pay double the true value of the ornament. And, the biggest argument of all: Storing jewellery in the house is an open invitation to thieves. Only a fool would buy a headache for a moment’s beautification. Poor Maya was not familiar with the art of debate or logic. Such strategies rendered her speechless. The sight of her neighbour’s ornaments stirred desire in her. But to whom could she disclose her sorrow? Had Panditji been hard-working this difficulty could have been overcome easily. But he was a lazy man and spent all his time eating and sleeping. He was ready to listen to the bitter words of his wife, but it was impossible to reduce his hours of sleep.
2
One day when Panditji returned from school he saw a gold necklace adorning Maya’s neck. The shine of the necklace added a glow to her face.
Never had Maya appeared so beautiful to Panditji.
‘Whose necklace is this?’
‘This necklace belongs to the wife of our neighbour, Babuji. I went to meet her today. I saw this necklace and liked it very much. I wore it and came to show you. Just make one necklace like this for me.’
‘You had no right to bring away what belongs to someone else. What if it gets lost? We will have to compensate for it. On top of that, think of the bad name it could bring!’
‘I must have the very same kind of necklace—twenty tolas, nothing less.’
‘Still so obstinate?’
‘When everyone else has one, why shouldn’t I?’
‘If everybody jumps in the well, will you also jump? Just think a bit . . . it will cost six hundred rupees to get this necklace made. If we pay an interest of one rupee on every hundred rupees, in five years it will come to one thousand rupees. But in five years your necklace will hardly be worth three hundred rupees. What possible pleasure can wearing such a necklace bring if it leads to such a big loss? Return this necklace. Have your meal and make yourself comfortable.’ And Panditji walked out.
3
Suddenly in the night Maya began to shout, ‘Thief! Thief! Thief in the house! He is dragging me away.’
Panditji woke up with a start and said, ‘Where, where? Run, run!’
‘He entered my room. I saw his shadow.’
‘Bring the lantern! Fetch my stick!’
‘I am so scared I can’t even stand.’
‘Where is Panditji, has there been a sendh?’ called many people from outside the house.
‘No, no,’ said Maya. ‘The wall is intact, so they must have come from the roof. When I woke up, I saw someone leaning over me. Hai Ram! He took my necklace! I fell asleep wearing it. Rascal! He stole it from my neck. Hai Ram!’
‘Why didn’t you take off the necklace?’
‘How was I to know that this calamity would befall us today? Hai Ram! How can I ever face anyone again!’
‘What’s the use of lamenting now? Weep over your fate. This is why I often say to you that things will not always go smoothly. You can never tell what will happen—and when. Now do you understand what I was saying? Or do you still have doubts? Just check if anything else is missing.’
The neighbours arrived with lanterns. They checked every corner of the house. They checked the terrace and the locks. They checked the front and the back, and even peeped into the toilet. But the thief was nowhere to be found.
‘It is the work of an insider,’ said one of the neighbours.
‘Without an insider’s help such things are not possible. Did he take anything else?’ That was another neighbour speaking.
‘Nothing else is missing. The utensils are untouched. The trunk is locked. If the wretch had to take anything he could have taken something that belonged to me. It was somebody else’s possession. God! What will happen now?’
‘Now have you experienced the pleasure of jewellery?’
‘Hai Ram! This is a disgraceful calamity. And on top of that you rub salt into my wound. The ill-fated could have taken every speck in the house, I wouldn’t have grieved. That poor woman had only just got the necklace made.’
‘Are you certain that it was twenty tolas?’
‘Yes, that is what she said.’
‘A crippling loss has to be sustained now, what else?’
‘I will tell her that there’s been a theft in the house. Will she kill me? Are we to steal to make good her loss?’
‘It is from your house that the item was stolen. You and you alone will have to pay for it. How does it matter
to her whether it was stolen or if you’ve hidden it? She will not believe you.’
‘So, where will we get so much money? It will be a potful of money.’
‘It will have to come from somewhere or the other. How else will we save our honour? But you’ve made a grave mistake.’
‘God couldn’t bear even a borrowed thing. I was in the grip of Satan. Otherwise what pleasure did I get in wearing it for a while? I am really unfortunate.’
‘What is the use of regrets and curses? Sit quietly. Tell the neighbour not to worry. We will not rest until we return her possession.’
4
Now Panditji began to worry day and night about the necklace. If he had washed his hands of the whole affair right at the beginning he would have had no worries. The neighbour would have been left with no option but to resign to her fate. Who would dare invite a Brahmin’s curse? But Panditji didn’t want to sell the honour of a Brahmin at such a low price. His mood and manner changed. And he became busy making money.
He renounced sleep for six months and did not know night from day. Earlier he used to rest after returning from school. A Brahmin has various ways of earning money. He’d never taken those paths. But now after returning from school he’d go to a particular place to recite the Bhagavad. After returning from there he’d cast horoscopes till eleven o’clock, and predict yearly gains, and so on. Early in the morning he went to the temple to recite slokas in praise of Durga. Seeing him like this, Maya wondered if she had taken the matter too far. If he fell ill it would be a big problem. Watching him lose weight she grew concerned for his health. Thus did five months pass.