PREFACE
"As I wanted to equip myself for a successful career, I sought admission to this course to train myself in the art of translation. As part of the curriculum, I was required to undertake some translation work, and first of all, I was faced with the problem of choosing my field of translation. As I have done Mass Comm. I was advised for some literary work. My worthy supervisor helped me out in identifying the area, and recommended translation of some representative short stories from Mamta Kalia's text “Shrestha Kahaniyan” as partial fulfillment of the requirements for the award of the Post Graduate Diploma in translation (Hindi to English).
The short story as we know a very popular form of modern literature. Its immense vogue is the result of many accumulative causes such as the rush of modern life, growth of the magazine, love of brevity and concentration and growing interest in short and crispy things. Mamta Kalia's stories are very close to life. She has great penetration into the complexities of human mind, nature and psychology. These stories very sensitively and artistically portray problems of great human interest. They entertain as well as educate. I was instantly and instructively intrigued by the stories of Mamta Kalia.
Hence this project of I have sincerely tried to translate every expression with care and as appropriately and precisely as it was possible for me to do. All this provided me a lot of knowledge in the art of translation for which I had decided to join the course; I really enjoyed doing this job.
The following is the scheme of my project:-
1. Introduction
2. Translation of stories
3. Glossary
4. Biblography
Acknowledgement
It is an occasion of pride for me to express my deep sense of gratitude to those who have been the guiding spirits behind me in the completion of this project of translation.
It is admitted that translation involves difficulties of a unique kind and as such requires a through understanding of the nature, from, syntax and semantics of both the source and the target languages. Besides it also requires patience, perseverance and care.
In the present project, I have made a modest attempt to catch the spirit of the original work and express it in the target language.
I feel deeply indebted to Prof Sarita Vashishtha, Dept. of Hindi, Kurukshetra University
(Rachna Saini)
SECTION-1
1.1 WHAT IS TRANSLATION?
Before the translation of any work of all we must have must the knowledge that what is translation.
“Translation has been considered that branch of applied linguistics which addresses the problem of the transference of meaning from one linguistics code another linguistic code.”
According to J.C Catford, “Translation is the replacement of textual material in one language (Source material) by equivalent textual material in another language (Target language)”
The knowledge of these facts is must for a good translation.
1.2 IMPORTANCE OF TRANSLATION
Translation has are so many languages in the world. Everybody cannot understand every language. So translation is been playing a vital role in the world since olden times. But in the present age it is must for all fields. Every field is incomplete without translation. There is only medium to know the knowledge contained in the other languages. In the fields of literature, translation is very important. Modern science with its rapid growth and proliferation has made the world small. It created such conditions as necessitate interaction among various linguistic communities ground the world so as to reaccelerate the process of globalization in the larger interest of human race. This has indeed expanded the possibility and scope of the art of translation as one of the means of bridge gap in space and time with in and across languages.
1.3 PROCEDURE FOR TRANSLATION:
A translator follows a scientific process in the art of translation. Both Indian and foreign translators presented their views on the process of translation. According to them there are five steps in the process of translation:
Study of the original Text:- First and the most important step in the translation is the study of the original text. Without understanding the original text, It is impossible for a translator to analyse the semantics and
structure of the text.
Analysis of the text:-This is also very important. In this process a translator has to analysis the semantic and syntactic structure of the text.
Transference of the meaning:- It is the most important step in the art of translation. It is the principal function. In this process the translator points out the original sense of the text.
Re-creation:- It is the fourth most important step. In the process of recreation translation arrange an creation source language into target language.
Comparison with the Original: This is the last step in the process of translation. This step is taken to balance between source and target language. This step verifies the perfection of the translation work.
1.4 PROBLEMS IN THE TASK OF TRANSLATION:
Translation is not an easy job. It is full of hard-work and full of difficulties. Every language is different than another language for example. Both Hindi and English are totally different from the angle of syntactic structure. English is has a S-V-O structure and Hindi has a S-O-V pattern. Sentence patterns are also totally different. I faced my problems in this translation work. Some of the most difficult problems are following:
Problems of Regional Words: The most difficult problem that I faced in this translation work is the regional words. Words used in this books are very typical. The words with regional color are very difficult to translate as there might be no equivalent word available in source language.
Problem of Idioms: Second problem that were confusing are the English idioms.
Problems of synonyms words: Another problem was that of synonyms.
Problems in writing style: The writing style of Kalra is very typical. Many sentences in the book are complicated.
LAILA MAJNU
Earlier, it was not like this. The house was a small one with few occupants . In fact there were only two members. They had a single room, facing a big courtyard. One corner of the courtyard was being used as kitchen another as bathroom, third corner was vegetable garden and the fourth was junkyard. Shobha knows about everything around the house from inkpot to heart. There was a single bed and two chairs. Pankaj considered double bed as useless need. He was of the view that it is better to sleep double on a single bed rather sleeping single on a double bed. There weren’t many chores to do in the house and that too was voluntary and not obligatory. Cooking was just a matter of 15 minutes like in a picnic. Only a plateful of vegetables and four chapattis were made. Two’s chapattis each for Shobha and Pankaj. Sometimes when they felt romantic or too much hungry they used to make coffee in their open air kitchen frolicking at the same time. At night they used to roam in the house at most bare. If someone had seen them like that at that time, he would think that he had seen some ghosts.
The world of two of them was complete and full of emotions Shobha thinks that she was a music instrument whose music could only be turned by Pankaj. That’s why she used to call him Pankaj Hussain. Pankaj too believe that love is associated with feelings than just physical gratification.
After a few days many strange people thronged the house-milkman, laundry boy, vegetable vendor from the back door and newspaperman
postman etc from the front door. But more irritating was the coming of uninvited guests. God knows how come all the trains reach to this city either early morning or mid night.
Often rickshaws would halt deboarding ‘Hare Ram’ chanting old ladies with bedding, tin suitcases and plastic baskets who would disturb the mundane affaires of their hosts in an attempt to get Nirvana. They would come with their frail frame and high spirits in the month of for a holy dip in the. They would become so tired in their journey from the station to the house that it seems as if they are reaching the final abode.
On a similar occasion she got up rubbing her eyes when one such aged couple came at midnight . Pankaj opened the door. They were from Pankaj’s childhood neighborhood. Not real relatives but dearer than them. They had a bakery back at home, being run by their sons successfully. So the couple was free to indulge in Nirvana seeking. Shobha opened her eyes with great efforts and got dressed properly in a saree rather than in a casual gown so that she can cover her head and perform the ritual of touching their feet. She however could not understand why they have come to visit when they hail from the holy city of Mathura
She kept on shuttling from the room to courtyard and back in the cold. They had brought a variety of biscuits in tin canister. They offered biscuits to them with tea . Pankaj took one biscuit but Shobha couldn’t eat at that time. On continued persistence she coughed. It hurt the aged lady and she remarked that, “Shobha is not upbeat on their arrival”
Shobha countered her argument by nodding. She told them that it’s her good fortune to meet them. She doesn’t take bath in in spite of being living close to it and now it would be possible for her since she would accompany them to. It was four o’clock when they settled down comfortably. Then Shobha asked them to sleep. They laughed and replied, “For us, it is time to wake-up”.
Pankaj slept and Shobha couldn’t sleep in front of the guests. She wanted to go and sleep on the dew in the courtyard.
The regular coming of guests was uncomfortable. Sometimes more than two guests would come. Then there wasn’t enough space left in the room. Then the bed was shifted in the verandah and the mattress was put on the floor. And its takers adjust themselves on it like Bata Shoes in the box or many dosas in one plate.
They shifted their house due to fear of guests. But guests had not spared them. They were still coming in. Whole atmosphere changed. It didn’t seem like a house any more.
Not a single thing was at its place anymore. Fan wouldn’t work either by operating switch or by regulator. It has to be moved with stick. Clock was tempered by children in such a way that the real time can only be known after adding or subtracting few hours and minutes. Frustrated Shobha put the clock in the kid’s toys. Transistor too was out of order. Black shoes and white socks were part of the uniform but when they would return from school the shoes would become white and socks black. Children roamed in the house like an open threat.
Pankaj doesn’t follow Shobha around the house anymore. He would wait for her work to be complete till eleven o’clock at night then irritatingly he used to fall asleep. Now Shobha struggled her way to sleep with minor ailments like acidity, allergy, and backache. It was strange that these aliments occur at night; by the morning they would leave Shobha. She once again started doing housework like a machine. She would feel satiated with her engagement in non productive works like cooking. Sparing some time from the vicious circle of chores she would devote it in loving Pankaj. If Pankaj was in good mood than he would talk to her about contemporary mood of fine arts, and what could be the right direction of nation’s intellectual thought and also would tell her how beautiful and young she was among all her friends. During such moments Shobha would became happy and fulfilled but these movements were rare and were disturbed by the coming of washer man, telephone ring etc. She would rush to attend it. Her going away like this would leave Pankaj alone, incomplete and unsatisfied. After a while he would again try to pick up the thread but finds that Shobha had to help kids in their homework, cook food, iron the clothes. She would look at him and say that there is no time to talk. Pankaj would feel like a prisoner whose meeting time had completed. Realizing that there remains no further scope of interaction his image of himself as Romeo and her image as Juliet soon disappears. On such occasions Pankaj wanted that some guest would come so that the tea would taste sweeter.
Of now Pankaj started coming late at home and Shobha felt relieved that household work was completed on time. But soon she felt strange. She asked Pankaj ,”Are the evenings to be spent with kids or pressure cooker ? ”
Pankaj replied irritatingly-“You never like my presence nor absence, now what should I do? ”
Shobha asked,” What should I do then when you are not here?”
He said- You should be happy, so that when I come back you could rehearse looking sad.”
She said- “We have always rehearsed good things.”
He said – “You don’t deserve that anymore.”
She got irritated.
Whenever they were alone nowadays they would usually start arguing. When Shobha would ask something he would reply her with a strategic reply sharp as double edged blade and closing the possibilities of further interaction. His reply spilled like an acid on their mutual interaction. His reply was a jestor on the sensibilities of Shobha. His answer was like a poison- blue, yellow and green.
“I think I should perish like a good wife”, Shobha said. But Pankaj did not respond and walked out.
Shobha’s heart was aching. If a house is on fire one can call a fire brigade but what if the burning thing is a living heart. She felt as if she is a vessel with lime in it; whatever is immersed in it will start boiling. Pankaj’s capacities of abusing, torturing were invisible to her like a health warning written on a cigarette pack.
She was lying on the bed with agony. She imagined how her house would look without her. She saw a calm in the house. She could not hear the usual harsh voices in the house-“Baby drinks your milk fast, Pankaj! lower the volume of radio, O Malti! You haven’t posted the letter yet, Saida! Is this the time for bringing the clothes”. She thought that Pankaj was never a good husband but he has all the traits of a typical widower. If he doesn’t shave for two days he looks as if his wife has recently died; buttons always missing from his shirts; and always listening to the sad songs.
When she woke up she didn’t know whether it was morning or evening and she found that suddenly there was a cup of tea in front of her. Slowly she came into present and realized the person who is standing in front of her is her own Majnu and Laila was sipping the tea. “I felt like sipping a cup of tea and therefore he also made a cup for her also. I searched for the milk but could not find. I have put my love in the cup instead milk. Drink it.” said Pankaj.
Juliet was then drinking tea.
DALLI
"People go for a holy dip into Ganges after daughter's marriage, but we won't pollute Ganga ", Madans wondered after marrying off Nidhi. India
"Newspapers have made you cynical”, quipped Samidha.
“Be blessed with your ignorance. If you had to ever comment you would call it a Utopia.
"Well, tell me how many times you had an encounter with pick-pockets or you had to travel without a seat"
Anurag said, “So what? But these dangers do exist.
"Now there is no such problem. We can travel in A.C. class. We are senior citizens after all”, said Samidha. “You are senior citizen but I am not”, Anurag clarified. They were not only a couple but also were of same age. Wife has become senior citizen for the Railways while Husband has to wait for another five years in order to be a senior citizen.
Samidha was not apologetic for her age. She commented casually "it appears that once again our youth days are back. Half ticket was charged up to 12 years and now it is only quarter.
It was surprising that Anurag acceded to travel. They thought of traveling all the places which found mention in the national anthem- ‘Bengal , Sindh, Gujarat ,Maratha, Dravid, Utkal, Bang’. Sindh was not a part of Indian map anymore. It would take ten days to visit Punjab , Gujarat , and Maratha. So it was decided that the India
Coolie was wearing foam shoes. He was walking briskly and taking long strides. He carried their attaché and a bag on his head with ease and walked to the platform No.9. They tried to keep the pace with him but were panting shortly. Now the coolie was leading and they were following him.
“Doesn’t matter, we can keep an eye on him that way”, Samidha thought. On one part of the stairs the crowd was descending and on another it was climbing up. Only the heads were visible in the crowd the pyramids of baggages being loaded and unloaded. They were able to follow their luggage for some time and then lost the track.
Both of them looked into each other's eyes with fear.
"Did you read the coolie's number? "Samidha said
“He didn’t give the time for that. He just took the luggage and walked away like a Tarjan”
“Where would we trace him in this sea of crowd".
Both were drenched in the sweat by the time they reached the bogey. Coolie was already there and nodded them with the luggage on his head to board the train.
Samidha said “Gentleman is it we who are supposed to board the train or you? You reached here like a bullet. You should have waited for us to follow.
Coolie replied, “Madam, you have to board the only train but I have to take care of other trains also. Please pay me fast. The train is set to leave.
Coolie did not place the luggage properly under the seats and placed the two attaches right in the middle of the alley and walked away with Rest. Twenty as the payment.
Bending down to adjust the luggage was the real pain. It reminded of the old age. So whenever she would watch actors thrusting their pelvis in Bollywood songs on ETC network she would often comment “Aren’t these girls tired while dancing and shaking.” Somehow they adjusted the luggage and took a breath or two. They were thinking of taking rest then suddenly the TTE appeared.
The reservation ticket was genuine but it was his duty. He checked everything- date of birth, name and date. Samidha requested him, “Kindly allot us a lower birth as climbing up to the upper birth would be troublesome for me.”
“You may request the same to other willing passengers”, he told them and walked away.
Those with lower berths lied down quickly. By this they wanted to tell the couple that they should also go their respective berths. They looked at the upper birth as if they were supposed to climb Himalyas. Anurag climbed up the upper berth through side stairs and then descended. He said “It’s not that difficult. Let me help you.”
Samidha tied her dupatta around her waist took off her slippers and gathered courage. She stepped on the first step. The husband said “Take care lest you should fall. And moreover I am standing down here.”
Then suddenly the lower berth passenger got up and sat down. He said “Madam! Don’t bother yourself. I will take the upper berth. They thanked him. The passenger took his spectacles, newspaper and Paan Masala and climbed up on the upper berth.
Anurag as always gave Samidha his spectacles, wallet and wrist watch and anounced his sleep by stretching a blanket over him.
Now Samidha had to guard nine objects. Apart from their spectacles, purses and watches she had to guard suitcases and a bag kept beneath the lower berth. She did not keep luggage chain with her on journeys as they tying them is a difficult exercise. She was assured as they did not contain any valuables and stuffed with few clothes and papers. Anurag said, “My kurta is so long and coarse that even a thief would not consider them for picking.”
They couldn’t sleep till late. Although they knew that luggage contains no valuables but there is still a danger of the theft. Samidha imagined how would rail thief look like. Or they are among the passengers and would start looting the train at any point of time.
Whatever they might look like but one thing is sure- they must be quite efficient and daring. Mirrors, taps and mug were missing on either side of the bogey. Wherever the slogan was written- ‘Indian Railways is your own property. Protect it.’ Some article was missing from there.
Samidha wondered. She had envisaged about the panoramic scenes, lovely talks and good memories during the journey. And now she finds herself in the pool of doubts. She is wary of night journeys. One can’t see neither the world outside nor the world inside. All the people wrapped in the similar blanket. It seems that as if the train is full of dead bodies.
Samidha uncovered herself from the blanket. And then drank water.
She thought that travelling alone would be more fun. The other person is bothersome in many ways.
While leaving their home for the journey Anurag had warned her sternly. “ Do not accept any offerings from the strangers in the journey.” Now and then one gets to read about the poisoning incidents in the newspapers. These persons would offer passengers poisoned laddoos and then loot them. You are always prone to such cheatings”
Samidha was upset at this. She couldn’t understand the relation between fraud and laddos.
They reached Delhi
The posters of India Tour pasted at different locations at the station looked great. Each poster seemed to welcome them. Station was clean at that point of time. The day at morning 6.40 was afresh and pollution free and they were planning for the day ahead.
They felt for a cup of tea.
People were shouting from the stairs- Taxi! Taxi for hire! and followed them but Anurag declined their offer. Yatri Bhawan was nearby. So they asked coolie to carry their luggage.
“I don’t have time”, coolie replied.
As they climbed down the stairs they were surrounded by all the coolies. Coolie looked at the owners of the luggage with miserable eyes.
Anurag said, “We wouldn’t go anywhere. Leave us alone.”
A man wearing white coat said, “I will take you to Mohan Hotel. Its just in front of the station. Nice rooms with attached bath.
“Shri Krishna Lodge is the best for you and its nearby also”, said another coolie. The coolie said, “Count your baggages and give me my money.”
Samidha said to the coolie, “You got us in the deep trouble and you are leaving.”
Coolie pointed towards a policeman and off he went after getting the payment.
Anurag said to the policeman, “These agents are troubling us. We need to go the Yatri Bhawan. We will decide where we want to stay and not these agents. Tell them not to disturb us.
The policeman chased them away with baton and then spoke, “You may go wherever you like. But I am coming from the same place and I can bet the rooms there are full.”
The senior couple surveyed the grand building. They wondered whether they won’t get even a single room in this huge building.
At first instance they thought they should believe the policeman. He is a government employee and he must be speaking truth therefore.
Then they thought there is no harm in verifying the information.
They reached Yatri Bhawan in a rickshaw. They were pleased to see the clean and green campus of the lodge. There was a bike parked in the porch around which two or three people were drinking tea in paper cups. There was nobody on the reception desk.
They waited for a while. A khaki clad man appeared from the lounge and told them there was no room available in the Bhawan.
“I want to talk to somebody senior here,” said Anurag.
Then he came outside the porch. He said something to the people standing in the porch.
Then the tea drinkers group went to their respective positions on the counter.
One person among them flipped through the pages of a register and adjusted the glass on his nose and said, “No room is available with us.”
Given the silence in the Bhawan it was hard to believe that all the rooms are occupied.
“Not even a single room?”
“I just told you”
“Please check the register again”, Anurag when first said this, the employee looked at him.
People often mistook Anurag for a political leader given his Khadi dress.
The second employee said, “Do not worry. There is another good and budget hotel- hotel Lalmahal. The rooms there are bigger than the rooms of the Bhawan. I will explain the route to a rickshawwallah.
They were afraid of private hotels. These hotels make the wife remember all the horror films and stories. The word Government stood for them safety, confidence and truth.
Above all the name of the hotel- Lalmahal
Samidha said, “We have to resume our journey after 10 hours. We have all the valid tickets. By rule we deserve a room here.”
Now another employee jumped in the conversation and said, “There is no air conditioned room available.”
“Doesn’t matter. The weather is quite comfortable. So even non- AC room will do.”
Quite unwilling the employee kept a card in front of them. Anurag filled in the details in the card.
The employee said, “You have to pay for two days.”
“Why?” He was surprised.
“The check in time is 10 and you have arrived early.”
“Then we shall wait for 15-20 minutes.”
“ But you train arrival time is 6.40 am sir.”
Anurag said to them “Show me where it is written?”
The man at the counter got angry, “You are not here for inspection.”
“In the hotels all over the hotels the rent is charged according to the checking time and not the arrival time of the train.”
After a heated argument the room was allotted. The rent was paid and the counter man said, “Room No. 409”
They searched for a porter.
“You have to carry your own luggage”, the employee said. They dragged their luggage somehow to the room. After crossing many aisles and turns they discovered that their room is near the attendants’ housekeeping room on the 4th floor.
All the rooms of the floor were unoccupied. Pigeons were muttering on the roof the aisle. The droppings hardened on the floor. Nobody was on the entire floor but for the couple.
Carrying the luggage was a problem in itself. They felt that this would remain a problem throughout their journey. They decided to deposit the luggage in cloak room. Samidha carried only a bag to the room. Anurag brought suitcase downstairs. The cloak room manager inspected the luggage and then said, “We can’t deposit the luggage.”
“But why?”
“These are not locked.”
“But there are automatic locks which open on definite number combination.”
“But the rule says that a lock has to be planted from outside.”
According to the government rules a lock costing Rs.5 was more reliable than a lock costing Rs. 500.
Anurag helplessly went outside to buy a lock. After locking the luggage while filling the receipt the clock room employee asked’ “ At what time do plan to leave?”
“10 am . We will leave at 9 or 9.30.”
He stopped writing, “That won’t be possible then. You wouldn’t be able to reclaim your luggage.”
“What does it mean!”
“I leave at 9.30”
“But you shall be replaced by another employee, only then you can go”
“The person comes from Parpatganj and he usually gets late while reaching here. And I have to catch the last bus at 9.30. So it’s better if you keep the luggage along with you.”
Anurag had to bring the luggage through lift. One by one all the suitcases were brought to the room.
The attendant of the floor was swinging his legs while keeping them on the table and was enjoying the scene.
Anurag said to them, “Kindly arrange our morning tea and the newspaper”
“That is for the passengers arriving early. It’s close to 10 now.”
Samidha said, “Where it is written that passengers arriving at 10.30 wont get tea?”
“We do not know about that. The rules we are told have been told to you.”
“Where is your complaint book? I want to register a complaint against you. You don’t know how to deal with people.”
The attendant very confidently said, “The complaint book is downstairs. Go and complain.” But he was too tired to go.
After taking rest for a while they thought of taking a shower.
Toilet was too small for Samidha. Had she been little bit more fat she could not have entered it. Its latch was broken.
Anurag said, “There is nobody here. You go to toilet without latching the door.”
But Samidha remained uncomfortable. Even if there is nobody else you still feel uncomfortable. Bathroom was more or less in the same condition. There was a mug and a bucket and no soap. The attendant was informed about the situation although unwillingly. He told that there was no soap in the stock.
“ Lal Mahal could have been a better option for us.” Samidha said. Postponing the shower she lied down on the bed. Anurag had slept before her.
They woke up at 3 pm . They were hungry.
They went to the dining hall. There was nobody in the hall. There was no sign of food being served either. The menu pasted outside the hall was inviting to the hall but the hall was empty. This time there was no arrangement for the tea either and they were too tired to go outside for the tea.
They just sat in front of TV in the lounge hungry. The screen showed only unclear picture and no sound. He asked the cleaner, “Where is the remote control?”
“There is no remote. Somebody has taken away.”
“It works like that only.”
“Oh! I see.”
Bored they thought that they should drink a bottle of water. The manager of the dining hall said, “Madam! Please come after 10-15 minutes. We have just kept the bottle in the fridge and it will take time before they are chill.
“Shall we bring coupon from the counter?”
“No. You can just pay cash here.”
They have known all the ways of government functioning by then. They came to their room got ready and went outside in search of food.
There was pre- paid taxi facility outside the station. Outside the small room was written- ‘Charging more than the actual rate is crime. Passengers contact here.”
Outside the room was a queue. There were not only foreigners but also home tourists and passengers. The clerk at the booking was nowhere to be seen. His pen was kept open at the table and his coat hung on the chair.
Somebody said, “He must have gone for a cup of tea, he will come soon.” One passenger commented, “I have been standing at the window for the last twenty minutes and he has not turned up yet.”
“It does take 15-20 minutes for the tea.” Some other passenger commented.
The queue of the rule abiding people was growing larger. The scotter , taxi drivers stared hovering around the crowd. They started asking where they want to go. Then they would ask for fare. The tired passengers would go with them. As soon as they get a passenger they would start searching for another passenger. This way he was earning double in a single trip. A sardar quipped from behind the queue, “Dilli has become Dalli [Prostitute] brothers!”
Everybody laughed at this. Everybody knew that there was no use of getting angry and complaining. It was also known to the people that the booking clerk would not turn up. It may also be possible that he may be standing among the crowd and enjoying the scene.
Indian Tour was turning sour. In spite of all the odds they were not disappointed and were hopeful that things will improve. Delhi Delhi
They came at 9.30 for the 10.30 train. There was not even a vehicle to be seen.
Then a taxi with some foreigners halted. The taxi driver asked for Rs. 350 as fare.
He asked for the meter card in the broken Hindi. He was by mistake dropped on the other side of Paharganj. He hired a taxi to come to other side of the place so that he can stay in Yatri Bhavan. “How can you charge such an amount for such small distance!” Anurag said.
You keep quiet. I am not asking you the money.” The taxi driver answered back. “He should be thankful to me that I have dropped him at the right place.”
After a brawl the tourist paid him 2 currency notes of 100 denominations each. Madans wanted him to say that they may be dropped at the station but he sped away as soon as he got the money.
They searched for some mode of transportation. Right behind them was a banner unfurling. It said- ‘First October International Elders Day’. In front of them was a huge hoarding. It read- ‘Northern Railways Welcomes You. Bon Voyage.’
A GIRL OF 25 YEAR
“Rajaram was on leave till 6 o’clock . I’ll make tea for you by the time you read newspaper.” Mrs. Sharma said.
Rajaram was such a peon who was present only on papers. Neither does he nor Mr. Sharma feel any shame about it. I have come for the first time to the drawing room. Earlier I always go back from the verandah.
In spite of being subordinate to Mrs. Sharma expression of calling me “You” hurt me. Her tone was less personal and more commanding in fact I failed to gauge when Mrs. Sharma becomes “informal” when she becomes bossy I always get trapped.
Right now it was 4:30 in the evening and not the time to read newspaper but some people could read newspaper all day. They are not satisfied with one reading. They carry it to the office along with tiffin box. They take their meal over the spread newspaper. Fold it back for the home for the last round of reading at night. Although they don’t have any opinion about anything. I read newspaper quickly unlike I take shower.
It was too hard for me to get up early in the morning. Both newspaper boy and milkman failed to wake me up. They deliver their stuff into verandah at the mercy of neighbour. For years Devkinandan Pandey and Shivsagar Mishra on radio were my morning alarms. Then I swtiched into a mode of get set and go started imagining her lighting a stove. May be she is
making tea. When I wanted to play the L.P of Begum Akhtar Mrs. Sharma said, “Our stereo is very sensitive, its pin gets out of place anytime.” When I got up to use the phone, Mrs. Sharma replied that phone is out of order.
I was feeling scared sitting among such sensitive thing. Even when I used the toilet I didn’t pull the flush chain, out of fear of its sensitivity. Mrs. Sharma could come running saying that this is too sensitive. I was thinking what was more sensitive, Mrs. Sharma’s nose or flush. Mrs. Sharma’s health was perfect while Mr. Sharma was lean. He would look like his brother-in-law. Mrs. Sharma‘s health was perfect as she didn’t go for dieting. There was one photo of marriage in which Mr. Sharma was more or less looking but it’s hard to believe that she was Mrs. Sharma.
“Have it” – the tea come with a command.
“Won’t you?” I asked.
“I am fasting” she gave this information and ended suddenly. I thought of those days when my mother forced us to take medicine which has an effect of feeling of vomit in the mouth.
But here the situation is more critical. I visualised Mrs. Sharma of Jumbo size, leonine visage and fox eyed with the trio of consistency, practice and
fasting she has crusaded her enemies. I don’t know much my boss Mrs. Sharma. I was full of assumptions.
I was just thinking whether to talk or move after having tea and only then she goes.
“There is so much corruption in offices.”
I kept silent.
“Girls are becoming promiscuous.”
“Boys too are the same”, I said.
Boys are boys, but girls must behave themselves. One such girl is living in the front house. She comes late from the office at 11:00-12:00 p.m. You tell me which office closes that late. Mr. Sharma says she might be doing night duty. Nobody make girls to do night duty. She made such a face as she had seen something very illicit happening before her eyes. I felt afraid. I thought now she is up to me. I thought that Mrs. Sharma has a doubt upon Mr. Sharma and me that’s why she was not telling me when Mr. Sharma would be back from Lucknow
At the age of 25 years there were 25 problems which were taking hell out of me. There is much problem being a young woman. These days I was being considered woman among girls and vice-versa. There was difficulty in making conversation with any of the class these young girls of locality would call me aunty where as I myself called aunty too many.
Messed up with these dangers between these obstacles I was facing Mrs. Sharma was investigation about how many girls are there in the staff, how many of them are married, unmarried and widows? Among married how many are happy and unhappy?
She said- “Why do typist marry early? I was stunned.
“But you don’t look like that.”
I become tensed.
I thought now she is going to destroy me. Okay, right now, here on her costly carpet. I don’t care about my pay bill. Let the tickets to the cinema go waste. I would be sad only for one thing that I had never done any crime whole heartedly into my life. There was one colleague in my office who was single and was after me. I used to take lift from him. Though he has potbelly and grey hairs but romance was still stocking in him. Our routine was no more from the day when he intended to know about my F.D(s) and me about his V.D(s)
I know Mr. Sharma from his thin shoes or costly polyester shirts, nothing else not even about the number of his grey hairs. He also suffers from stomach related problems. Mrs. Sharma must realize that her husband had to go to the toilet four – five times a day and therefore couldn’t afford to be romantic. In the office everyone joked about the idea that he should shift his office in the toilet itself.
On a personal level Mr. Sharma don’t have any problem with anyone. He was neither sadistic nor joyous. He has no grudges against anyone. He used to come to the office late and goes early.
What else subordinate want? His work was only to signature of date the files. How could she think about much a person having an affair? Mrs. Sharma was scratching in her ear. The duster of keys in her waist buzzed. Two were big, one was small, and two black one was yellow.
I kept on sitting with my mouth shut. She was constantly watching my face, as if my face was a book where she would find something about her husband and at last she said,” When are you going to marry?”
I was about to laugh like a pragmatic one which draws me to the wordly matters as in India
She said-“You want to be married. These days every girl wants an officer, I.A.S, and P.C.S”
I was thinking why she is so concerned about my marriage I said –“Right, my mother too says all this. She has seen one boy in Bihar . If sir would give me a leave, I would go.”
At once Mrs. Sharma become very happy, “This is very good news. You don’t worry. I will get leave for you, start packing.”
BOHANI
The new showroom was ready.
Bhola Mahajan rebuked his both the sons-“Thirty five lakh rupees have been spent on the making of the showroom. The expenditure has to be recovered from the profits from this shop. Dhantares falls after six days. The future profit-loss of the business depends upon the occasion. There is no bigger festival than Dhanteras. I must not find you people roaming in the civil lanes with all the work left to the servants. People might quip that a goldsmith spares no one when it comes to the business. But the truth is that it’s the other people who leave no occasion to cheat a goldsmith. Howsoever old an acquaintance might be there are chances that he would definitely cheat. I have only hard earned pennies. Two of you brothers would go to school. I used to run the shop. And at that time the shop was merely a shop. It was a small place near the curve of the square. In the name of the counter there was a small showcase and this black wooden box used to be the cash box. Then there was no accountant or a watchman. I alone used to manage all the affairs that were too risky.
“Papa there only two things which seem out of place in the showroom. Beneath the shining cash holder there is this black wooden box and beside it the showcase.”
“This is not merely a black wooden box. It is Kuber- the god of money. You don’t know Beenu but this box has been very lucky to me. Womenfolk from the slums used to come and keep their chains, ear rings, payal and with me and I used to keep them in this box. They used to borrow money on interest against these valuables. Most of them failed to repay.
Vinod and Manoj were not interested in listening to old saga. They were satisfied with their present accumulation. Both are married. They were good housewives. But Vinod was little unhappy about the fact that his mother, sister-in-law & wife were all carbon copies. They all were alike- fair, plump and loose tempered. They were plump and suffered from high Blood Pressure and vied with each other for jewelry. Both the brother has seen Aishwerya and Shilpa Shetty modeling for jewelry. Although Manoj was skeptical but Vinod was vocal about his conviction that only women below forty deserved the jewelry.
Manoj would laugh.
Beenu would say- I told you the golden rule.
For few days they were regularly present in the showroom overseeing the usual affairs. Bhola Mahajan has directed them to be always present at the showroom. But soon they were present in the showroom turn by turn. From morning 11 to 4 Manoj would manage the affairs and from 4 till 8 in the night Vinod would oversee the affairs. Bhola Mahajan would keep on dropping now and then. Neither of the two brothers was far from the showroom. He would be eating ice cream on Lucky Corner or eating paan on Jain Paan Bhandar. Seing his father in the showroom he would return quickly and say-“Father I have got paan specially for you.
Bhola Mahajan knew all the matter but he was now living life of a retired person. He suffered from mild Blood Pressure problem. Earlier there was steep fluctuation in his Blood pressure. Due to this he has partial control on the balance of his hands. His right hand would keep on trembling since then. Secondly his family business tactics were being proved to be outdated for young customers. He would often sit behind his black wooden box. His eyes always inspecting something. Just by looking at the customer he would come to know his customers status. He would convey this with his eyes to his sons.
There was more business during festival times. Manoj and Vinod would forget their usual fun routine and indulge in serious business along with their father.
Their mouth was always full with paan. Not only the walls of the Bhola Jewellers were covered with mirrors but also the roof. The trio while chewing paan resembled three ruminating ox. Each had a steel Peekdaan beside their chairs. Paan had to be spit out when customers would talk to them. As soon as he leaves another paan shall replace the old one. The servant at the showroom was instructed top offer paan and water to the customers. After the usual morning cleanliness drives all the lights of the showroom would be switched on and it would dazzle with lights. The dazzle of the jewelry willin the brightness of the halogens would mesmerize the customers. The traditional way of greeting the customers of Manoj- Namaste madam! Please come in-would reassure them that they have come to the right place. Bhola believed in some tantras inspite of being an owner of such a modern showroom. Like other businessmen he considered bohni to be an important ritualistic practice. He believed that if the first customer is tackled successfully then throughout the day business will be good. In the same way he thought that the last customer should be dealt with full care before the showroom is closed. He must not be presented more than one case.
In the last few days there were increasing cases of plunder and robbery. Out of the four cases of robbery three were related to the jewelry shops. There was a common modus operandi among all the robbery attempts. Robbers came in the guise of customers wearing jeans and T-shirts, saw the jewelry and alongwith taking out their mobiles they also drew guns on them and steered clearly out of the showroom easily with the metal and money.
Bhola Mahajan whenever felt unwell did not go to the showroom. Lying down on his bed he would advice his sons-“don’t think you know all the tricks of the trade. You might yourself smart but the robbers are smarter than you. Vinod always has his eyes fixed on TV while dealing with customers. One day he would be cheated.
“Did we loose anything due to me?” Vinod quipped.
“If not lost yet then shortly it would be lost. You have been told many times that you should check the jewelry before removing cases displayed to the customers. And especially the last customers must be carefully dealt.”
Manoj said” Papa don’t worry. I am there to take care of.
On Tuesday the showroom opened after the gap of two days. Sunday was the usual holiday and Monday the market was closed as there was a bandh against the VAT [ a sort of tax] Today Bhola Mahajan was feeling well. So he was at the showroom by 11’o clock and positioned himself against a cushion on his seat. Dhaniram had cleaned the showroom. The showroom sparkled in the lights. Not even a single customer turned up till 12 o’ clock. Bhola Mahajan followed self made rule of taking lunch after bohni only. How can customers turn up if market is usually closed like this? he spoke. Vinod did not reply. He kept staring his wristwatch. He was thinking of drinking a glass of mango shake at kamdhenu’s.
Manoj said “ Gold is becoming dearer. So only those customers will turn up wants to sell their gold and not to buy gold.” At that moment the watchmen opened the fiber glass door and ushered in three customers. All three were women but one of them was more noticeable than other. The lady asked in a confident nasal voice “Why nobody picks up the phone at the showroom?
“Please come”, Bhola Mahajan welcomed them, “ phone is out of order since morning”.
Bhola Mahajan sat on the third counter.
Both the similar girls initially hesitated and then sat on the first counter. The first lady was dark complexioned but has smart features. She looked quite feeble. The dazzling lights of the showroom had some effect on her black and eye-lined eyes and they were gleaming with the joy of purchase. The other girl wore handloom saree. Her hair bun made her a more mature personality. Vinod gestured them to sit on the chairs in front of the counter. Sari clad girl said “We want to buy a gold chain, a pure gold chain.”
Vinod corrected her that she wouldn’t find any other metal than gold in the showroom.
The first girl spoke “Look , the chain shouldn’t be too thick. It should look good on us.
The elder stared at her. “Don’t talk too much! Let’s first see the stuff”. Vinod noticed that there was a difference in the voice of these two girls. The small girl had a meek voice while the elder had deep voice llke teachers.
Vinod opened a case in front of them and it has chains weighing from ½ tola to 3 tolas. Age hierarchy was followed in inspecting the stuff. The elder girl would check the chain and give it to the younger one. The younger girl would exclaim- How beautiful! The elder lady would frown and keep the chain back in the case. Now they were looking at the last piece of chain. The nugs of the chain were quite light and delicate. They were finely crafted. The pendants of the chain were quite small and artistic.
The younger lady was tempted “ Didi ! We will buy this one. How beautiful is that!” The elder girl saw it carefully and gave it to the younger one. The younger glanced it once and very delicately tried to open up its hook. Vinod in the mean time had spat out the Paan. Then he said, “Let me open it.”
Vinod opened its hook and gave it to the young girl. And then placed a beautiful decorated ornate mirror in front of her. Vinod felt a peculiar attachment towards the beautiful bohni customer.
The chain beautifully settled on the slender neck of the girl as if it was made for her. The pendent of the chain settled on the foot of the mountains where the mountains start to become steep and valleys begin to become deep. But there was still a gap of 2-3 years before the contrast of the depth and height was fully appreciated. Yesterday Vinod had seen Aishwerya in a diamond ad. Now he thought that gold was better than diamond as it not only glitters but also make its wearer glitter. The mirror reflected the chain adorned neck. She examined carefully by moving her neck towards left and than towards right. The chain looked like the morning rays in the lights of the showroom.
“Does it goes well on me?” the girl asked.
Another girl was carefully observing the third counter where it was getting difficult for even the two persons to handle the customers. Vinod told the girl “The chain is looking beautiful on you.”
The girl smiled a bit. Her eyes were gleaming.
Then the elder girl returned from her thoughts. She told the younger girl “ Munni get the chain weighed!” the younger girl immediately obliged.
Vinod took the chain from her and then weighed on the balance kept below the counter and compared the weight written the tag which he had removed before he showed the chain to them. It correctly matched.
“How much it weighs?” Asked the elder girl.
“5 grams”
“ How much it costs then?”
Vinod pressed few digits on his calculator and multiplied the figure by today’s bullion rate and replied “Rupees Twenty eight hundred only”
“What?” exclaimed the elder girl.
“Its to light weight for the price you asked”.
The younger girl also commented “Its too costly”.
Vinod also exclaimed “The bullion is rising. Its five thousand per gram today.”
“I think the chain wasn’t made today and you are charging today’s price”. The elder girl asked Vinod to render him sppechless.
Vinod looked at the young girl. He did not like the Police Inspector like mannerism of the elder girl.
“Please quote the genuine price!” Requested the younger girl.
“I have quoted the correct price. Rs. 2500 for the gold and the rest 300 for the labour.”
“We never pay for the labour” the elder girl dared.
“You are supposed to pay the labour charges or else how will they earn?”
The elder girl countered him “You will pay the labour. Why should customer pay for it?”
Vinod while closing the other cases thought if the younger girl insists he will charge Rs. 100-200 less of the quoted amount.
The face of the younger girl reflected disappointment and restlessness. The elder girl took the chain on her palms “We will buy the chain without pendant then. Weigh the chain now. The elder girl said while taking out the pendant from the chain.
Vinod weighed the chain again. There was hardly any difference of 5 grams. He told.
The elder girl commented “We removed the pendant and still there is no difference”.
Vinod felt angry on the nagging behavior of the customer but somehow controlled his anger. “Madam nowadays pendants can weigh even few ounces. Such things are in vogue.”
The elder one told, “We told you in the beginning itself that we want some light stuff and not the wedding jewelry”.
“What more light stuff can you ask for than this chain?”
Soon Bhola Mahajan understood that Vinod was unnecessarily over involving himself in the dealing.
He told him “Vinod you show jewelry to lady on another counter. Manoj will deal with your counter instead.
This was a sort of order. Bhola Mahajan would address his sons as ‘babu’ whenever he was angry. He had understood that these ladies were no dream customer. He felt that his son would never learn the tactics of the trade. He is busy dealing with the poor customer and there lies a golden opportunity with the rich customer sitting on next counter. The rich lady said to Mahajan, “Please show somewhat thicker chain. It must be visible on the neck.”
The fat lady was as fair and plump as dough. Her back and hips resembled as if they were treaded with a layer of fat like a treaded tyre. She looked as if she were wife of a tyre merchant. She had sweat spots on her blouse even in the air conditioned showroom. Her mischief smell diffused in the whole showroom. Her neck, for which such a dedicated investigation to find a suitable chain was going on, was visible due to the chain, otherwise it seemed to merge in the chin from the above part and collar bone from below. Her age could be fixed anywhere between 50-60 years but her fat made it difficult to guess her real age.
Bhola Mahajan was tired of sitting and standing between safe and counter. In front of them several cases were kept open but they didn’t like any item. His leg keeps on becoming numb. The fat lady looked at the chains in the counter.
“You didn’t show these chains to us!” she said.
“These do not match your high status, madam.” Bhola Mahajan said.
“You are showing us old fashioned jewelry. Show us some new designs.”
Bhola Mahajan got up from the counter. He was angry inside. ‘The customers are taxing me and I will charge them atleast Rs.1000 more’
Manoj came on the first counter. The younger girl was touching the chain with her fingers, “Oh! Why gold is so costly?”
Manoj laughed on this innocent question. Then suddenly he ashamed on his yellow teeth. He inherited the habit of chewing Paan from his father.
Manoj spoke while taking care of the Paan in his mouth, “Its nothing. It will become more costly.” Then Vinod gestured him to entertain other customer.
Unwillingly he shifted towards third counter. Habitually his father took the case from him and showed it to the nagging customer, “Have a look at this madam! I will show you some special stuff. Although some other customer had ordered it but you can still take it. We will get it made again.”
The customer looked pacified. She took the chain in hands.
The three strands of the gold made this chain a special specimen of Nagmani design. When worker Dinesh brought this chain Bhola Mhajan chided him, “ Is it an animal chain?”
‘Master, last week I saw a gold chain thicker than this one which few baniya womenfolk were wearing. The same design. Or else how will people take care of their money? They will invest it in gold.” Bhola Mahajan took the chain unwillingly. He warned that if the chain is not sold then he will not pay his labour.
The customer replied, “I think I like it!” She unhooked and wore it and while looking herself in the mirror she said, “Is it looking fine ?”
Vinod habitually answered, “It’s looking fabulous on you.”
The rest of the purchase formalities were completed on easily. The chain weighed 40 grams; the total cost of the chain including labour was 21 thousand, satin case, two wads of hundred denomination currency and two currency notes of 500 denominations.
The customer put the case casually in her big purse and got up with a sigh. It was difficult for her to stand up once she sat down.
Manoj had collected all the boxes and was keeping them in the locker.
The girls have left.
Vinod asked his brother, “Did the deal mature?”
“No, they did not have money for that. I told them that Rs. Five Hundred will get you only a fake gold chain and with Rs.1000 you can’t expect to get a real gold chain.”
“And then what happened?”
The elder girl was smart enough. She scolded the younger girl saying it is not necessary to wear a gold chain. She further told that they would buy a fake gold chain for Rs. Fifty from nearby Fashion Point.
Then the father gave them a crisp Rs.100 note to each as the bohni was good.
Vinod felt the bohni was not good.
Bhola Mahajan gave the keys to Manoj and was just about to leave. He said, “ Beenu you must understand that only middle aged and old women have money and not the young girls. You were wasting time with them. These girls just pass time in window shopping. They don’t buy anything. At the time of Bohni one must be remain cautious.”
SEAT NO.6
Bhagwati said , "I reached before time in the queue and got the lower birth in adies compartment reserved exclusively for you”.
I was not amused. The lower birth means cramping yourself in one posture through the whole night and hearing the footsteps of the passengers. Or remain vigilant for the loose end of the saree and also for the possibility of blanket reaching down to floor. Being frequently travelled to this route the issue of ladies or gents hardly matters. During vacations on my way to home most of the journey is consumed in checking copies and in the return journey I am occupied in reading. Nevertheless I said, “ It’s ok.”
Being a person living alone I often forget whether I am a girl or a boy. To speak the truth I must stop calling myself a girl given my age but that is the benefit of not being married that a woman remains a girl forever, provided she dyes her graying hair every Sunday. I have developed sinusitis, tonsillitis, myopia, appendicitis etc. while my years were weaned away in lecturing, consulting dictionaries and checking answer books. The head has become dry. But it’s ok. Eleven hundred girls call me Miss and I am happy.
When I reached the train there were already two lady passengers sitting. I showed inhibition and took my seat. By virtue of my experience I know that travelling with women is always a hassle as they would like to borrow soap, mirror, comb and even more they would also try to exchange their seats. Therefore I like to make friends with the TTE so that whenever the train halts he would inform me for how long the train would stop at the station.
One of the women was preparing milk for the kid and other woman like an ideal co-passenger was taking care of the kid. They asked me, “ Kothay Jabe?” [Where are you going?] I was assured. Now I can tell them easily that I don’t know Bengali although I could understand little phrases in Bengali? I told them so. But they started conversing in broken Hindi. The mother of the kid would feed the kid with milk with tea spoon and then breast feed him/her. They wanted to enquire me about the usual stuff that passengers usually ask when meet other passengers. I started reading newspaper and neglected their questions. They got my point and got busy in their own world.
Now bear the foul smell of urine and do not even frown I thought. I had seen my sister and therefore I had a fair idea of women being so protective about their children. If a child asks for a double sundae in the dead of the night my sister without giving a second thought to fact that it may harm the child starts dialing the number of Quality Walls.
When I interfere in between she would look at me in such a manner that I become ashamed of my unmarried. I have all disturbing memories of my sister. Once I mentioned about my collection of sarees in front of her she quipped, “Its very common that you have collection of sarees specially if you are in a job.” Before they would start troubling me I started neglecting them.
I spread the blanket on the floor and sat with my legs spreaded. I was looking for a waiter so that a good breakfast could be arranged and then lies the real pleasure of reading newspaper. But I got bored soon and I turned my face towards window. I did not allow my parents to see me off. Mother would have carried otherwise and I don’t like becoming emotional in public places. I become angry usually. And I chide everybody like a teacher. Mother is nice but I realize that as she is growing older she is becoming child like. I feel responsible towards her and I often got up in the night and wonder whether she had forgot to take Irgapyrian injection or forgot to wear sweater in the morning. My stupid loving mom writes letter with no. of spelling mistakes and I just fall short of correcting them with a red pen. She likes to listen to childhood memories like I used to mispronounce amrood as armood and I could not walk fast when I was three years old kid so everybody used to call me goods train. These childhood events are so well ingrained as if they were related to someone else. I don’t remember not even one.
Just then I felt some plump weight on my legs. I gave a bewildered looked inside. A fat woman without asking me sat on the seat. I was angry. Her plump hips could be felt from her saree by my legs- I felt disgusted. I felt like kick her away from me. But I tried to control my anger.
She asked, “Where are you going?”
I stared her in return, “This is my seat.”
The woman with the kid said, “Diner belay ekhane teen jan boshbe[During day time the seat is for three people].”
I looked at her with fierce eyes. When I give that look to my students they dare not look into my eyes during the whole period. But that lady threw the child in the air to make him laugh.
The train started leaving the station. I was feeling disgusted. I thought of changing the bogey there was crowd everywhere. Schools and colleges were open.
Then a man started on the door of the bogey. He said to the fat lady. I could understand only one word- trunk. The fat lady did not utter a word and frowned. The man stopped for a moment and decided something. He left dragged in a large trunk inside. He tried to bring it inside the cabin.
I said to him in harsh voice, “Don’t bring in here. It would create discomfort. He stopped and then requested in English to accommodate the luggage.
I don’t know how come I softened my stand. I thought this man must be real gentleman. Poor man! I thought and lifted my legs to adjust the trunk. The woman didn’t even budge as she did not rely on her balancing act. She acted as if he was not her husband but a coolie. She had put vermilion on her head liberally. These women! I thought in disdain, had enslaved their husband for two square meals and sex. Few white stubs were visible in his beard and signaled his stable persona. He asked his wife, “Chai khabe [You want some tea].”
The fat woman wiped her nose with the one end if the saree and teardrops rolled from her eyes. How did she manage to get those tears in her eyes is beyond my comprehension. Even her husband could not understand but the two women sitting in front of them became conscious. They felt pity on them. The husband bowed his head as a culprit and went off. As soon as he left those women asked her, “Ki hollo [What happened]?”
But she did not reply and he started crying more. The little Bengali I knew wasn’t of much help to me when they were talking in Bengali but whatever I could gather was that they were going to attend mourning function and possibly of the mother of the fat lady. Ladies often do not cry this way on the death of their mother in law. When my aunt’s mother in law died I heard her saying that she would get then 55 ounce gold that belonged to the deceased. The husband of the lady sometimes looked at her as if she was responsible for the death. After few minutes he brought conductor along with him. This time he more confidently told to his wife, “ Bhalo kore bosh[Sit down comfortably].”
The conductor smiled at me, “Are you comfortable?”
I smiled although I wanted to say that kindly make this lard sit at some other place. But I did not want appear as complaining lady! I perhaps never fell out of favour with men.
Then the husband of the fat lady said to the conductor, “We were in a hurry otherwise we never travel without reservation. Kindly allot us a seat for the family I will adjust somehow.” The conductor said, “You can only get sleeper reservation and not reservation for sitting alone. This is a three tier coach.”
The man repeated, “Kindly consider the request in the of family.”
I got down from the train when it halted on some station. I wanted to drink water. But no water was available and neither the name of the station was available. A tea vendor with his bucket containing tea cups and kettle passed me. I bought tea in place of water and started glanced over magazines. Then the conductor came to me and said, “The signal has turned green.” I hurriedly hopped on the train tried to recognize the signal. The train had begun to move and signal was not visible in the dark. I thought of wearing spectacles but the train had covered quite a distance. Moreover I did not want to effect a sudden change in my appearance. I really loved my eyes.
Waiter brought the evening food quite early. When I was eating these two women took out their home cooked paranthas. The woman with the kid started breasting feeding her and eating at the same time. I was reminded of a question which was often asked in our school time, “ If two taps fill a tank and one outlet empties it then how much time it will take to fill the tank etc. etc.”
The fat woman did not eat anything. Her husband brought her a tea at one station which she rejected by saying “ami khabo na”[I don’t want to eat] . Her husband had to drink the two cups instead. The husband came again and said, “Khabaar khe naav.”
She did not say a word turned her back towards him. He went away.
I felt angry over this. She is forcing her husband to go hungry. And her stupid husband is tolerating this. He should have scolded her.
After finishing their dinner they were preparing for sleeping. They tried to lift the middle birth and hook it but could not hook it. When they could not do it they looked at me. I advised them, “Talk to the conductor.”
They did not pay heed to my advice. They again embarked on the project. This time it fit well in the slot but not by their intelligence but by sheer chance.
As soon as they made their bed the fat lady grew restless. She looked at me again and again and then asked gently, “ Tomar seat konte[ Which seat is yours]?”
“The lower birth” I said.
She looked troubled. She looked at the upper birth as if she was looking at the highest peak of the Himalyas. Then she started looking at the cabins door with impatience.
I didn’t want to sleep and was waiting for the woman to leave the seat so that spread my legs and read.
Then her husband again showed up. Her wife spoke some angry words. The husband said, “ Bhoy koro na, saboy to upor ghomoy[ don’t worry, people do sit on upper berths].”
The woman said it like a final judgement, “Ami upar shobo na[I won’t go up].” Perhaps her hips were paining due to prolonged sitting. She sighed everytime she make a move.
The man came inside the boggey. He asked me in English, “Where are you going?
“Bombay
He silently looked here and there. After some time he asked in a more gentle way, “Do you have lower berth?”
“Yes”
“I you don’t mind could you please take upper or middle berth.”
He told me that his wife fears that she may fall while sleeping. I was afraid lest the fat lady should fall on me and I will be turned into pulp.
The Mac truck woman! I was annoyed.
The man realized, “I regret giving you trouble.”
I told him while obliging him at the same time; I can take the middle berth but at least educate your wife about travelling curtsey.
He became very happy as if he has found a purse in the bathroom. He gave the good news to his wife. His wife responded by a long yawn. He said to me, “ I will make bed for you.”
I sat on the trunk. The fat lady stood by the door, holding it like a patient. ‘Foolish lady’ I told to myself, ‘how will she manage her husband. The day he meets a new typist at the office he will be tempted towards her.’
He quickly made the two beds. He just glances over ‘TIME’. I said, “You can read it.”
He became happy.
I felt deeply sympathetic towards him. Now only he could manage a smile on his face. He must be laughing once in a while when at home.
I tried to throw a glance at his wife but she was already slept and she had covered her face with her arms. Her husband tried to remove a pillow from the two pillows kept beneath her head.
She said in a harsh voice, “Amake to toi chai[rrrrrrrr].”
He hesitated.
He looked at me and himself in awkward position. He said, “Since she is sad today she is behaving that way. We went to our village during Kali Pooja. My mother asked us to leave the daughter with her. She is alone there. Earlier she used to live with us but these two could live with harmony with each other. There is a school there. I thought that our daughter can stay with her for a year or two. But she did not allow. Since then she is crying also and she also fought with mother also.”
The fat lady said something angrily from the lower berth, “Tumi ekhane jao, ami ghoombo[jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj].” The husband left immediately. I got angry with the woman. She has been crying over such a silly reason. And I had impression that her mother might have died. I just uttered ‘To hell’ and again started reading the weekly. There was an illustrated article on kissing. It did not take long before I changed my taste. I thought that I would show it to my friend’s once reaching hostel. We used to share our thoughts and conversation. Once we came across a book titled ‘May we borrow your husband?’ and we pooled in money to but that book. We showed it to some of our married friends. They said, “No.” I don’t understand what happens to the sense of humour after getting married. They are very secretive regarding their potbellied husbands and treat we him like lottery ticket. They perhaps don’t know that we have a separate status and that’s why we didn’t get married to any Tom, Dick and Harry. Bapsy said, “I would get married only once so I will be very choosy.” Then we laughed on the expression. Till last year I used to say, “I would get both doctorate and Doctor from a foreign country.” But since when Mrs. Sawant said, “The person who couldn’t find a suitable match from 55 crore what chances are there to find one from foreign land?” I quit saying this. I could have said to Mrs. Sawant that if getting married in India
I wasted much time from cleaning my teeth to washing clothes to combing my hair. Its great pleasure to travel in fully dressed way. Moreover it has become my habit to get dressed up to 10 am and I feel sad when I don’t do that.
I got curious while returning from the bathroom that who else is there in other part of the bogey but I found it little bit strange to do it. Women in my cabin sat down like a dumb- loose sarees, with dirt in the eyes and oily face.
I just wrote down a letter to my mother assuring her that I have reached there safely and kept it in the purse. I thought that as soon as I will come out of Boribandar I will post it. Then I started reading an article by Adib. The train was passing through beautiful pastures I guessed but I did not look out of the window. I respected the value of time. The news paper carried interesting pieces about the internal turbulence in Congress. I felt saying ‘buck up Indira’. She was fighting like the Queen of Jhansi. Her presence made the political drama more interesting. After seeing her picture on the front page I felt that after ten years she would resemble Saira Bano.
The Bombay Mail crossed many stations but did not halt. After the train stopped at unknown station people started to pack their luggage and women started to rub wet towel on the face of their children. Perhaps people were bored sitting for the long time perhaps therefore it seemed that they started to tie their luggage with full enthusiasm. I asked conductor what station it was. He told me it was Kalyan.
I frowned on the name of Kalyan. Kalyan means Sindhi Colony and Sindhi means plump bodies, nylon sarees, smugglers harsh voices and scuffles. I am community prejudiced and they are growing with the age in spite of listening to National Anthems thousand times after movie shows. I do not consider Punjabi, Sindhi, Gujarati, and Maratha worth of me. I proud to belong from Uttar Pradesh. One of my pen friend used to call me ‘Vanikputri’ then I used to feel ashamed. But these days I am annoyed with my own caste. They value colour features a lot while searching for marriage partners. All the Guptas living in the neighbourhood of my parents have been married I remained as a Mumbaikar only.
When Kalyan station passed the husband of the fat woman came to me in the cabin. The lady has given him her small plastic pearl decorated purse to hold and bathroom went to the bathroom.
The other two ladies also become active. They stuffed their bags carelessly.
The fat lady came back to him and said , “ Ekhano bichana bandhoni kaino? Dadar to aikhane aishe jabe[jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj]?”
The man gave back the purse and started packing his things properly. In the mean time her wife sat between the other two ladies and stared picking her teeth with a hair pin.
The man kept his bedding on the upper berth. The fat woman got angry and said, “ Ki korcho? Bichona aoukhan rohe jabe [What are you doing? You will leave it there by mistake]?”
He told her that he won’t forget.
The fat lady stood up and said, “Na, bichana namiye rakho[ No keep the bedding on the floor].”
The man finally kept the bedding down.
Then he talked to me, “Can I help you?”
I was not in a real hurry and I had only a blanket in the name of bedding. I thanked him.
The man sat near the bedding and started counting money.
I kept my handbag on the seat and thought of washing my face and put the newspapers in the purse. So I kept one leg on the seat another on the trunk. I did not zip my bag properly in the morning and the oranges kept in the bag rolled out of it. I raised to keep them in position but lost my balance. I would have fallen had he not given me support.
But I got a few scratches on my hand as the buckle bruised past it. I was just about to thank him and scolded him, “Poyesha gulre gailo, dekhte pacho ki[jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj]?”
Some coins fell down in this incident. He picked them up like a convict. That lady kept on looking for the coins beneath the seats.
I pressed my wrist with handkerchief, “Nothing serious! It will be ok.”
After gathering coins he looked at me, “Oh you are bleeding!”
He went outside got the handkerchief wet in the water. He caught my wrist and pressed the handkerchief on the wrist. In the mean time the conductor arrived. He came to know about the incident and enquired if anybody has got dettol or other antiseptic. He came back disappointed.
That man still hold my hand and said, “You could have hurt yourself more.” I could not have imagined such a robust man has such a delicate grip. I suddenly turned sympathetic and good willed to everybody in the bogey. I looked at the fat lady and said, “I am thankful to you. Your husband averted a serious accident.”
She perhaps didn’t get my point. She looked at other women for help and they were all silent.
But I was not angry. I was feeling light.
Just a woman
“ Just take rest. Pay a visit to the doctor with Shivlal in the evening. After saying this Manas started his scooter.
As I come inside I felt like crying if I am so unwell that I can’t accompany him to the city then he should stay by my side in the evening and he should have himself taken me to the doctor. I fell on the bed with a bang. I felt like laughing and crying at the same time.
Manas bought ticket for a Japanese show. I said, “It is the same usual stuff. Girls moving around slowly with umbrellas. Cinema could have been a better option.
Manas remained silent.
His silence was always aggressive and disapproving. I came inside dragging my feet. I was preparing myself mentally while I was getting ready for the event. No I won’t show my displeasure and like an ideal wife I have to accept the boredom as a part of my duty as a wife. I have to smile , I have to be happy and I have to nod my head according to his wishes.
While remembering those clichéd ideals I joined him for a tea. Manas was reading morning newspaper again. I thought he would throw a glance at my saree. He kept on reading the newspaper. I too then started reading the last page of the same paper.
All the activities are like that only. If the members of the family sleep I also sleep. If the other members study I also study. And if there is cleanliness drive going on I also join. I don’t have separate programs.
Manas finished his tea. I also finished tea. Manas got up and said, “ Lets go!” While getting up I heaved a sigh. He turned me and said, “ What? Are you not well?”
I was angry. Doesn’t he know I am taking medicine for the last two months. Many a times he himself has brought medicines for me.
“ Since morning the pain has worsened” , I said in a counter violent measure. This is the only option left which can terrified or ashamed the family members.
But Manas got neither terrified nor ashamed. He just started the scooter and off he went.
Couldn’t he implore once more? I bet if he had requested again I would have forgot my pain and accompanied him. But he was in his own world as usual. He would return from his office as if he did not do any work and was playing flute in the office. In my family everybody has got an obedient husband except me. He is quick as deer and alert as a leopard. It’s difficult for me to predict his moves. So whenever I think he would stop walking he would stop; when I think he would get angry he would smoke and when I think he is out of the home he would get close and start yelling.
Manas is a person who kills two birds with one stone. He wants to get rid of me in the guise of sympathy. I am not that stupid as not to understand what is going on. Rather I have become adept at seeing through these tricks. The world seems to me filled with clever people. Only I have to bear the burden of being naïve.
Then suddenly the doorbell rang.
I was cursing the person who rung the bell and got up to open the door. Two attractive and modern ladies of the same age stood outside the door. They said hello to me in a friendly manner and sat on the chairs in the verandah. After telling their names and the names of their husband they asked my name and the designation of my husband.
I laughed, “ Excuse me, are asking about his age or designtion.
They looked at me in dismay.
“ Although the enquiries were not important. What I can do for you?”
The more beautiful lady rounded her lips and talked in a gentle manner that they are going to organize ‘Camaraderie day’[ Sneha Sammelan] on 11 November and Runa Laila would be the chief guest.
“What is Sneha Sammelan ?” I asked.
They were shocked at my question, “ You don’t know about Sneha Sammelan ?”
They looked at my lips without lipstick and uncut hair, “ We plan to mobilize the city women for mutual love and harmony and to facilitate the exchange of thoughts.”
“ If this Sammelan doesn’t happen would there be any fight among the women of the city?” I asked.
They did not get my point and this hardened my conviction that I am the most gifted among all women.
Look lady! We have come here for donation. Donate Rs. Twenty and you get 4 passes , donate Rs. 51 and you will get a chance to sit in the second row and donate Rs. 100 and you will be privileged to have a cup of tea with our chief guest.”
I strained my veins on face and answered in a meek tone, “ On 11 November I have to undergo a major operation.”
The elder women asked in a rustic tone, “ What part?”
“ Intestine”
As soon as their curiosity was satiated , their interest in the matter declined suddenly.
They took leave from me and I pat my back for the great job done.
Now I was in a good mood. I basked in the self glory as I thought of making those women fool and saving Rs. 100 at the same time. It’s good that Manas was not at home or else he would have given them a check although of Rs. 21. So at least Rs. 21 were saved.
It was spring. The aroma of rose, lavender, jasmine entered the room. I felt running through the flowers but the garden was too small that too cramped with flower pots. Suddenly I remembered that I had a backache. I got up and tried to straighten my back. It was an easy job. I pressed other body parts but there was no pain. These miracles occur often in the absence of Manas. Whenever he is around, my body aches. As soon as he leaves my veins dilate and I feel running and jumping. Sometimes I feel like eating chat and sometimes ice cream. Like sitar strings my personality creates a music of its own. I feel as if I can conquer the world. But as soon as he is in front of me I start to suffer from backache, stomach ache and tooth ache. I feel like shouting and killing and get killed.
Due to all this drama my parent once asked me , “Tell us the truth. Are you happy?”
I should have laughed at this question but I felt like crying. Not because that I have to speak the truth but how would I answer the question. How would I make them understand that I was happy on Monday and sad on Tuesday, Eight past fifteen I was happy and eight thirty I was sad, on 31st I was sad and on 1st I was happy! How happiness and sadness can be guaranteed. Clothes can be guaranteed, fans can be guaranteed, cooker and furniture can be guaranteed but how would you guarantee relations! In my opinion this was the most difficult question which couldn’t be answered in three years leave apart three hours.
GLOSSARY
| vkaxu | Courtyard | lgdehZ | Colleague |
| ?kweuk | Roam | laHkkouk | Possibility |
| Hkjuk | Thronged | [kkeks”kh | Silence |
| HkkX; | Fortune | /kedh Hkjh | Threatining |
| vksl | Dew | Ifjfpr | Familiar |
| pVkbZ | Mattress | fHkM~ | Clash |
| vO;ofLFkr | Disarrangement | egd | Fragrance |
| grk”k | Frustrarting | i~~`Fkd | Seprate |
| fpM~ | Irritating | Mwcdh | dip |
| jksx | Ailments | fuxhkjuh | inspecting |
| xkao dk ekeyk | Country affairs | vpkud | sudden |
| vlarq"V | Unfulfilled | ;k=h | passengers”, |
| Ckkrphr | Conversation | lkguqHkwfr ls Hkjk | sympathetic |
| vthc | Strange | nq?kZVuk | accident |
| okn fookn | Debate | “kh?kzrk ls | frequently |
| “kakr | Calm | leqnk; | community |
| dYiuk | Imagining | mBkuk | raised |
| Lkosanu”khy | Senstive | lkeku | luggage |
| fuiq.k | Perfect | etkd | humour |
| LrC/k | Stunned | vkaun | pleasure |
BIBLIOGRAPHY
1 Horn by AS Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary; 1948
2 .Jones Daniel Oxford English Dictionary, 1963, Delhi
Orient Paperbachs, 1996.
3 Pathak Prof. Bhargava’s standard Illustrated Dictionary
R.C (compiler (Hindi-English), 1946,
&Editor) Varansi: Bhargava Book Depot 1989.
4 Bulcke C. An English Hindi Dictionary, 1971, Ranchi
The Catalic Press,1977.
5 Dr.Gupta S.S New Standard Illustrated Advanced
Hindi-English), Delhi
Dr. Aggarwal
Suresh (Editors)
6 Mukherjee Surjit Translation as discovery; Delhi
Pncraft International, 1981.
