Chowringhee

by Mani Shankar Mukherji

  Walking down Chittaranjan Avenue, Connie and I reached Chowringhee. ‘Where would you like to go now?’ I asked. ‘To Victoria Memorial, or the museum, the zoo or the Governor’s house?’

  She shook her head, took out a slip of paper from her handbag and showed it to me.

  ‘This is where you want to go?’ I asked in consternation. It had the name of an obscure lane in a suburb written on it.

  ‘Yes, that’s where I have to go. Do you suppose I’ve come out to admire Calcutta’s beauty?’

  I hailed a taxi. Connie said, pronouncing the name with great difficulty, ‘I want to meet the great man—Professor Shibdas Debsharma the Great, who had predicted that Lord Curzon would never become Prime Minister of England; who, despite being praised highly by Lord Kitchener, didn’t hesitate to inform him that he would die in a shipwreck.’

  She had memorized Shibdas the Great’s glorious achievements. Among his sensational predictions were Tagore’s renunciation of his knighthood, Lord Brabourne’s untimely death, the decline and fall of Germany, Goering’s suicide, Subhash Chandra Bose’s exile from India and marriage to a foreigner and, above all, India’s independence. Shibdas had also predicted that India would not be able to free itself from the clutches of the Commonwealth in the near future.

  It was Professor Shibdas who had secretly informed Kasturba Gandhi, through Mahadev Desai, that there was great danger in store for her husband but that she had no reason to worry, for when she finally gave up the attractions of earthly life, it would be with her head in her husband’s lap. If only Edward VIII had worn the amulet that Shibdas had advised him to wear and sent by express mail, the history of the English royal family would have been written differently. To take even an anna more than the seventy-three rupees and four annas that it cost to prepare this amulet was, to Shibdas the Great, a sin, tantamount to eating beef.

  Connie pulled out a pamphlet from her bag. In one corner it said, ‘Private and Confidential’. That’s how I learnt that this ‘saint’ did not believe in publicity. And that he considered it sinful to accept payments of any kind.

  I asked Connie to turn back, but she paid no attention.

  Shibdas’s laboratory was in a tiny lane in a remote corner of the city. When we arrived there, he was dispensing advice to his clients. His assistant ushered us in a little later. Connie had taken off her shoes at the door and a pair of nylon stockinged legs advanced towards the sage. Shibdas the Great took out his sacred thread and blessed her. Arranging her skirt, Connie sat down on the floor. No one could tell from her rapt, devout expression that she didn’t belong there. Had our mothers and aunts dressed in skirts, they would probably have presented themselves at temples in the same fashion.

  Shibdas the Great tried to size her up with his sharp, probing eyes. Placing his hand on her head, he seemed to meditate for a while, and then said in his Bengali-accented English, ‘Ma, ma, no fear. Shibdas will save you.’

  Connie turned around and looked at me. ‘He’s telling you not to worry,’ I said.

  She couldn’t say a word. She just took Shibdas’s hand and held it in utter trust, as her eyes clouded over.

  Shibdas’s speciality was that he asked no questions at first. He discerned the stranger’s past and future merely from their expressions. But that was the problem. He had to win the disciple over with his very first utterance, and there was no denying that it was a risky affair.

  He tried to hazard a guess about Connie from her age, manner and clothes. One didn’t have to be an astrologer to know that she wasn’t here for tips on B-Twill, handicaps or Indian iron. Still, he ruminated for some time, his eyes closed. Meanwhile, she took a ten-rupee note out of her bag and laid it reverently at his feet.

  Allowing a meaningful smile to spread across his face, he said, ‘Don’t worry, your wish will be granted. You will get what your heart desires.’ Her face lit up like a hundred-watt bulb. It was as though she had travelled this far only to hear this.

  ‘Spread your palms out,’ he told her. She obeyed. Gazing at them for some time, he turned his eyes back to her face. ‘You have suffered a great deal, but you’ll have to suffer more.’

  ‘More?’ she said tearfully. She had quite forgotten that I was standing behind her. Each of the astrologer’s blind arrows was scoring direct hits. But then, even I knew that she had suffered a great deal. ‘If something good for Harry comes out of it, I’m willing to suffer a lot more, sir,’ she said.

  Realizing that the prey had fallen into his trap, the great soul’s face grew brighter. Shutting his eyes and abandoning his physical self, he launched his astral self on a voyage into Connie’s future. She stared in wonder at him, agog with anticipation, though she dared not speak.

  Shibdas the Great opened his eyes, smiled and said, ‘I know exactly what you want. But still, I want to hear it from your own lips—the goddess will be pleased if you make your demands yourself.’

  Connie couldn’t bring herself to say what she wanted. Her speech was slurred. It was as though the entertainer of the night had suddenly been afflicted by the shyness of the child-bride, her face hidden behind a veil. But she would speak; she would reveal to Shibdas the Great everything that she had not said so far.

  Forget me, I don’t think even Shibdas the Great was prepared for what she said.

  Perhaps it would have been easier for her if I hadn’t been present. Her lips trembled as she said softly, ‘My lord, you can achieve anything if you want to. I will happily give whatever I have to the service of your God, as long as you make Harry taller. I don’t want happiness or property or riches. I’ll be thankful if Harry could become ordinary. Let him be short, I don’t mind that, but don’t let people call him a dwarf.’

  My heart has hardened after years of watching the world; sorrows and agony, humiliation and neglect no longer overwhelm me, but I confess that even today my hair stands on end when I think of that extraordinary prayer.

  Finally, I understood Connie. That explains it, I said to myself. You stupid, silly girl, that’s why you brought me here, wasted my time. Never mind, I’m glad you did. I’m not angry at all. Though it’s silly, though people will call both you and me mad if they knew, still, I’m ready...I’ll drop everything and take you wherever you want to go.

  Not even Shibdas, the seer, could contain his surprise. ‘What is she saying?’ he asked me.

  ‘She has a companion named Harry, who’s a dwarf. With him...’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me any more, I’ve got it,’ he said. ‘The dwarf will have to be made taller—he’ll have to be stretched to normal proportions.’

  ‘Yes, my lord, I’ll give you whatever you want.’

  The great man hadn’t come across such a golden opportunity in a long time. His eyes spoke his joy at having found a willing victim. Shaking his head, he said, ‘This is nothing new; from dwarf to giant, or from giant to dwarf—changes like these have taken place in our country many times in the past.’

  Professor Shibdas had by now surmised that I wasn’t on his side. Avoiding my eyes, he spoke, almost to himself, ‘It’s called the vamanavatar yagna. Very complex, needs hard work. The priest will have to perform the rites for seven days and seven nights.’

  As Shibdas got ready to roll out the costs, I realized he was planning to make a killing on this hapless girl. I couldn’t take it any more. I couldn’t be a silent witness to the swindle.

  He saw my annoyed expression. ‘Yes?’ he asked me defensively, to gauge my mood.

  I spoke sternly, giving him the benefit of my Kashundia dialect. ‘Please remember, I work at the Shahjahan Hotel,’ I concluded. ‘I’m sure you’d like our guests to visit you in future. This lady is my colleague.’ Unable to understand what I was saying, Connie looked at me. ‘I’m explaining Harry’s problems to him,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Connie. ‘I don’t know just how to thank you.’

  Shibdas the Great had no problems understanding what I had said. Keeping the future in mind, he
changed gears. ‘I’m probably the only person alive who can conduct the sacrifice.’

  ‘Then make the arrangements, lord,’ Connie said impatiently. ‘I’ll stop my shows at the Shahjahan and stay with you here. I’ll beg and plead with Harry to come too.’ Connie turned to me. ‘Ours is a weekly contract. I’m not going to extend mine any more. You’ll have to explain to Marco Polo.’

  But Shibdas the Great started shaking his head. ‘There’s an unwelcome side effect to this sacrifice. When the dwarf becomes taller, there’ll be no difference between him and normal men. But...’

  ‘No more buts, all his troubles will be behind him if Harry can become taller,’ Connie interrupted.

  Shibdas the Great threw me a poisonous look and said, reluctantly, ‘But he won’t live for long after the sacrifice. I haven’t seen anyone survive this beyond six months.’

  The colour drained out of Connie’s face. She shivered. ‘Harry, my dear Harry, dead! No! No, I don’t want that to happen!’ Connie swept up her skirt and stood up.

  Shibdas said, ‘We are what God wants us to be. If we try to bend his will, he becomes angry.’

  Connie listened attentively. She bent down and touched his feet.

  Shibdas opened a box and pulled out an amulet. He said, ‘This is extra-powerful. It runs on atomic power. Wear it on your bare feet after a cleansing bath. No drinking and debauchery on the day you put it on.’

  Connie accepted the amulet respectfully and said, ‘I don’t drink.’ She gave Shibdas another ten rupees and asked, ‘If I wear it, Harry will find peace, won’t he?’

  ‘Of course. That’s why the extra-special amulet,’ Shibdas sighed, obviously distraught at losing his quarry.

  Connie was sombre on the way back. She didn’t say a word. She had lost her last hope of getting Harry to be normal. All she said was, ‘I’ll probably find peace too now, won’t I?’

  The atmosphere seemed extremely tense when we got back to the hotel. Bose-da was at the reception counter. He looked right through Connie. I joined Bose-da at the counter while Connie took the lift upstairs.

  Rosie was sitting at the typewriter. She finished typing a letter and read through it. Then she said, ‘Hello man, so the morning was fun, eh? Jolly good time?’

  I didn’t respond. She came up to me and whispered, ‘Poor fellow, however hard you try, it won’t work. The person in Connie’s heart is Lambreta. You’ll have to be much shorter to compete.’

  Bose-da said, ‘Rosie, Mr Marco Polo has been waiting half an hour to sign these letters.’

  Rosie realized she couldn’t intimidate me in Sata Bose’s presence. So she sashayed off with the letters, flouncing her skirt and tip-tapping along on her high heels.

  Bose-da said grimly, ‘You shouldn’t have gone out with her. Harry created a scene. He’s screaming, abusing the bearers, asking for liquor. Gurberia told him it was dry day, but he paid no attention. Finally, he made the worst mistake—he went to Jimmy. Jimmy was waiting for precisely such an opportunity. He told him, go meet the manager, he’ll organize something. Like a fool Lambreta knocked on the manager’s door. You can guess what happened. Marco Polo had no idea that a cabaret girl’s dance partner could create a scene in the manager’s room. Maybe nothing would have happened. But Jimmy had information that the other hotel had sold out the floor show for ten days. The demand for our show isn’t that high, he said. Some advance bookings have even been cancelled.’

  ‘Now what?’

  ‘It’s all the dwarfs fault. Connie’s only problem is that she indulges him. The manager hadn’t paid attention to Jimmy’s original suggestion. But they’ve probably been discussing things since then. Maybe he’ll send for Connie right away.’

  That Bose-da’s fear wasn’t unfounded was clear when Rosie returned. Breaking into peals of laughter, Rosie said, ‘It’s happened. Marco Polo the man has sent for Connie the woman. He asked me to leave. When I’m here, you tell me the manager wants me. When I’m there, he tells me to go help Bose at the counter. I’m caught in the crossfire. Nobody likes me.’

  I said, ‘Enough of work. Take a break.’

  ‘All right,’ said Rosie. She went round the counter, pulled out a bar of chocolate from her handbag and started sucking on it.

  Bose-da asked, ‘Rosie, why do you like chocolates so much?’

  ‘Because chocolates and I have the same complexion,’ she snapped.

  I told Bose-da, ‘I’d better go, then.’

  ‘Yes, you’d better. We need to find out what’s happening to the girl. She’s in a foreign land, after all. I’d come along, too, but there’s a lot of pressure here.’

  Though he asked me to leave, I could not. I was anxious to find out which way the clouds gathered around Connie’s fate would blow. Bose-da probably realized how I felt. Writing something in the register, he said, ‘There’s no point hiding anything now. They’ve decided not to let Lambreta dance. Connie will have to do the show on her own. They don’t have a contract with Lambreta. He will be sent back as soon as possible.’

  I was shocked. But Bose-da explained, ‘You cannot blame anyone. People are paying to see Connie, nobody cares about Lambreta’s performance.’

  Absent-mindedly I went towards the lift. Then, on a whim, I took the stairs instead. I shouldn’t have barged into Connie’s room in the melancholy afternoon of that dry day. Well versed in the grammar of etiquette as I am now, I wouldn’t display such audacity today. However, I was inexperienced; I could do it then. I was dying to know what the management had told Connie.

  I don’t regret it though. It hasn’t caused me any harm. On the contrary, it proved beneficial. Immensely so. I consider myself blessed for what I learnt.

  I was surprised by what I saw. Sitting with her chin in her hands, Connie looked like a statue carved by a Renaissance sculptor. Her hair fell all over her face. She said nothing even after she saw me. Suddenly, everything became clear to me. If only I had displayed such sagacity in school, my life might have been different. I could have been well educated, well dressed and in an important job. I would not have been seen anywhere near Shahjahan.

  I had understood. But what could I have said? ‘I am sorry, believe me, I am very sorry.’

  ‘I’m going too,’ Connie said. ‘I can’t let Harry go by himself and still keep performing. I have asked for just one favour. Harry mustn’t get to know any of this. I’ll tell him I’ve had a fight. And that I’ve cancelled the contract in a rage. I hope they keep their word. I’m sure they won’t push Harry to the edge. He’s trying. He’s trying with all his might to improve his lot in life, but he’s not able to. Believe me, he’s not able to. If he gets to hear of this, he will lose the battle forever.’ Connie paused. ‘They probably think I’ve gone mad. Jimmy laughed so peculiarly, I wanted to throw up. For a dwarf, he seemed to say, I was giving up my prospects for a dwarf. But they don’t know, why blame them?’

  What was Connie saying? What did she mean? I hadn’t noticed the small photograph in her hand. She had probably concealed it the moment she saw me. Now she had nothing to hide any more. At least, not from me. She examined the photograph closely. So did I. A nondescript woman’s photograph. On the other side of the ocean, surrounded by water and mountains, in an unknown town. A newborn baby in her arms. A boy next to her—seven or eight years old.

  ‘Recognize anyone?’ asked Connie. How could I? Connie’s voice was heavy with unshed tears. ‘My mother.’ She hesitated. ‘Harry’s mother.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes. That’s me in her lap. Harry, my brother Harry, by her side. Did anyone know then that Harry wouldn’t grow?’ Connie could contain herself no more. ‘Harry didn’t grow,’ she said through her tears, ‘but he’s done so much for us.’

  Connie told me of a mother, a brother and a sister in faraway Scotland. They had no one to look after them. It was the dwarf who took a job in a restaurant. The short waiter couldn’t reach the tables. So he had to be stationed at the gate. He would bend low and welcome
the guests, opening the swing doors for them. Amused, the guests would tip him. That was how Harry had supported his widowed mother and sister.

  But as he grew older, Harry changed. He became difficult. He started drinking. Only his mother could restrain him. She would rescue him from bars late at night. Connie hadn’t been to school, she didn’t have the chance. But she learnt to sing from her brother. When he was in a good mood, he would teach her. Sometimes he would show her how the girls danced at the restaurants. Others would laugh at his antics. But Connie and her mother never did.

  Connie chose a dancer’s life for herself. She didn’t let her brother work any more. Stay at home, she told him, keep mother company. Harry agreed. He didn’t enjoy holding the restaurant doors open on a road where thousands of people passed by.

  Harry would ask Connie for money on the sly. He used the money to drink himself into a stupor before returning home. Their mother wouldn’t say anything. Yet, Harry was afraid of her. He would take her hand and apologize. Sobbing, he would say, ‘I’ll never disobey you again, Mother.’

  ‘Mother is dead,’ Connie said. ‘She called Harry and me to her as she lay dying. She told Harry, “You’ll be a good boy, won’t you? You’ll listen to Connie, won’t you?” Harry agreed like a child. Mother said, “I’ll be watching everything.” Then she told me, “If Harry disobeys you, if he doesn’t listen to you, shut your eyes and talk to me.”

  ‘Even now, when I can’t cope with him any more, I threaten to tell Mother everything. It works like a charm. Harry starts behaving immediately. It’s almost as though he’s jolted back to reality. But then he gets angry. He goes off in a huff. Doesn’t talk to me. Sobs on his bed. I have to cuddle him then. It takes ages to placate him. I have to say, aren’t I your little sister? How would I know what to do? If I’m wrong, you should scold me. If necessary, you should box my ears. He is transformed. He kisses me. He says, who dares box my little sister’s ears? Who’s got the guts? My sweet sister, my darling sister, your eyes look as though you’re going to drop off. Go to bed now. I say, I won’t go to bed till you do. He laughs. All right, he says. And then he does fall asleep.’