Translated by U Atreya Sarma from Telugu original1
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| Mantha Bhanumathi |
Sudheer
drove ahead his motorbike in a peevish mood he would be into, whenever what he
planned went awry. He could neither collect the crop proceeds nor manage to
succeed in the other things he wished to. Nettled, he revved up the vehicle.
There
lay a big rock in the middle of the road he hadn’t noticed. That’s all. The
front wheel hit the rock at its speed of sixty miles, and he was flung high up in
the air, and hurled down into a big slough.
Writhing
in the mire and gasping for breath, he stuck up his arms and screamed aloud
“Help! Help! Help!” His voice went into a shriek.
A
little away in the shade of the trees, a gaggle of girls were seen playing
hide-and-seek. But none bothered as much to look at him. Or were they putting
on an act?
“Hey,
look here, girls! Please… please, help me out!” He wanted to holler louder and
still louder, but not a word could break out of him. He looked around to
stretch out his arms for some grip to hold on to, but not a twig he could sight.
He struggled to kick his way up, but couldn’t feel any base. Though he was a
swimmer, the slush didn’t allow him to float. The thick mud was sucking him in,
deeper and deeper.
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| U Atreya Sarma |
Though
a believer, he never had time for God. The only thing he would do was, hover
his hand over the camphor – that his wife would light, toward the end of her
puja – and touch it to his eyes. But now he brought his hands together over his
head and implored that he would visit the temple every day, if he survived.
There
is what is called the foxhole syndrome. A foxhole is a shallow pit dug, for the
nonce and quickly, by a soldier in a fierce battle for immediate buffer against
enemy fire. While having to lie down in it, any soldier irrespective of his
religion, atheism, or rationalism – would utter “Oh my God, save me!” He
doesn’t split hairs on which particular god to pray to or whether god exists or
not.
The
muddy water was pushing its way into Sudheer through his nose and mouth.
Suddenly, the life he had spent so far reeled before his eyes.
***
Sudheer’s
life was a happy-go-lucky one. A cushy job. A decent house in a beautiful colony.
Annual income on the inherited ancestral property. An employed wife. Two sons
who were meritorious students.
Perkily
mounting his motorbike, he put on his Ray-Ban sunglasses. The men in the colony
cast rather jealous glances at him. The new bride who had just joined her
hubby’s household across the street, kept looking at him with wonder-filled
wide eyes. Noticing it, her mother-in-law said, “Come in dear, let’s have a
second cup of coffee,” and gently towed her inside.
So
compulsive was Sudheer’s charm! He would look as handsome as the Sri Krishna character
in the all-time hit movie Maya Bazar2,
if the character’s costumes were changed into trousers and shirt. Though forty,
he looked like one in his thirties. Very fair in complexion. He had been the
hero of his college. With regular walk and yoga, he kept fit and trim. Curled
hair. Eyes neither too large nor too small. Thick eyelashes. Shapely eyebrows.
A straight nose. Slim lips. Such handsomeness, a rarity indeed.
Before
wearing the helmet, he roved his eye toward his house.
Adjusting
her bag on the shoulder, Jaya stepped out and rested behind him. She was no
match for him in looks. She was the daughter of his maternal uncle who brought
him up right from childhood. Sudheer’s father died when he was very young. It
was his uncle who protected his share of property from the greed of his
co-heirs and put his life on an even keel. That’s why Sudheer couldn’t help
marrying Jaya. And there was a bonus: she was propertied, had a job in LIC.
They had two sons, studying in separate engineering colleges, and staying in
hostels.
“I
won’t come back in the evening. I will go to our village and stay there for
Saturday and Sunday. I have to collect the dues from our tenant farmer,” said
Sudheer, dropping her off at her office.
“Children
are coming for the weekend. Why don’t you put it off to the next week? I would
also like to join you. It’s quite some time since I saw parents,” said Jaya,
knitting her eyebrows.
“Of
course. But if we delay it, the tenant may spend away the money and offer to
pay us only from the next season’s yield.” He lavished a charming glance, and
zoomed off.
Staying
still for a moment at the spot, Jaya walked into her office. ‘Are the heavens
going to fall just in a week’s time? Why this unseemly hurry on his part? His
smile has not been captivating me for quite a few years.’ A shade of suspicion
and apprehension gnawed away at her.
***
“Heck!
Let loose of me, uncle! My hand is hurting. If you persist, I will get away.”
Bala was annoyed.
“Why
so hot, dear? Shouldn’t I even give a compliment to you? Haven’t we all
stipulated that none of us should leave before the game is over?” Sudheer
surveyed the rest of the players.
“Yes,
uncle is right. You shouldn’t leave,” echoed Swarna and Shanti, in unison.
Bala
struggled to withdraw her hand from Sudheer’s grip. Much reluctant to let go of
her hand, he pressed her tender hand once again, before releasing his grasp.
“Aimlessly
you struck the red coin, and when it streaked into the pocket just out of
fluke, Uncle showered you with praise. Now if only you can hit and pocket the
follower too…, well, imagine what more he would have in store for you.” Shanti
teased Bala.
Softening
her reddened hand, Bala looked for a vantage angle to hit the follower. She
aimed the striker at a point along the right side wall and flicked it. The
striker rebounded and smashed the coin in the centre sending it knocking at the
three walls before it crashed into the pocket.
“Bravo,
Baloo! You’ve pulled it off! We’ve won!” He flourished a tenner and called her
over to pick it up.
“No,
Uncle, keep it with yourself,” snapped Bala, and sprinted away.
“So
Swarna, here it is. Take it and give it to her. After all, a bet is a bet.”
As
she was gathering the carom-men back into their box, he thrust the note in her
hand, planting a tender kiss on it. Unconcerned, she lifted the board, stood it
against the wall, and returned the box of coins to its niche. She tossed the
tenner back at Sudheer, and remarked, “It was just a mock bet; you can keep your
money.”
***
“Where’s
Sudheer, Rajyam? Call him for lunch. It’s already late,” said Chitti Pantulu to
his wife, as he returned from the farm, and before stepping into the backyard to
wash his hands and feet.
“I
don’t know where he is. Ever since he came here, he has been playing around
with the kids, with no break. Like an adolescent, he has been hanging and
fooling around with them in the groves and backyards. Added to this, are the
kids’ holidays. They are amok without let or hindrance.”
‘None
around to help me with arranging the plates and glasses.’ Rajyam whined and set
the plates and glasses on the table.
“Bala!
Come in, all of you. Call Sudheer uncle as well,” shouted Chitti Pantulu. Whenever
he yelled, it would be heard well beyond three streets.
Trooped
in Bala, Swarna and Shanti from an adjoining room.
“Where
is uncle? Call him,” bade Rajyam, turning toward the girls, while filling the
glasses with water.
The
girls looked askance at one another, each making signs that the other should go
over to call Sudheer.
“Where
are son and daughter-in-law?” asked Chitti Pantulu, sitting on his chair and
surveying around.
“After
you had left for the farm, a word was in that daughter-in-law’s mother wasn’t
well. She was hospitalised. So both of them drove back in the car to the town,”
answered Rajyam, and hollered, “Oh kids, hurry up!”
“Where
is Sudheer, dear?” inquired Chitti Pantulu, looking at Bala seated across.
“He
is upstairs. Shanti went to fetch him.”
Swarna
sat beside Bala.
***
“Uncle!”
called Shanti, in a thin voice, peering around the room with widened eyes.
Sudheer,
who was at the table writing something, turned up his head. “Ah, Shanti! You’ve
come back? Come on, come on.”
“What
are you writing, uncle? Is it office work?” asked Shanti, approaching him. She
saw a pair of dark goggles on the table. “What’s this? Can I have it?” She put
it on.
“Why
not, dear? Just stand up straight. Let me see how tall you are.”
He
had her stand up on the table, and now she was only a little short relative to
him.
“Wow!
I am as tall as you. That’s why the goggles have fitted me well.” Shanti
simpered innocently, pulling up the glasses that were slipping down.
“Yes,
it’s why I told you to stand up on the table.” He held her by the waist and
hoisted her. Keeping his clutch on her waist, he grabbed her leg with his other
hand, and spun her round and round.
“Stop
it, Uncle! My head is reeling.” She restrained him, with a smiling face.
He
stopped whirling her, hugged her tight, bent her face down to his, and foisted
a strong kiss on her lips, before setting her down.
Looking
on dazed, she wiped her lips. “Grandfather calls you over for lunch,” she
mumbled. Drawing up her skirt a bit and wiping her lips hard, she ran away downstairs.
She was a child of seven years.
Chitti
Pantulu was a substantial landlord in the village, owning forty acres of wet
land and a coconut grove. He had two children. Jaya was his daughter, and
Krishna Murty was his son – a lawyer in a neighbouring town, twenty kilometres
away. Pantulu had had an elder sister and Sudheer was her son. For a long time
all of them lived together. Murty used to go to the court in his car and return
by evening to the village.
After
Sudheer married Jaya, both of them moved over to the town in view of their
employment. Murty and his wife followed suit for the sake of children’s
education, after constructing a house in the town, some four or five years ago.
Bala,
Swarna and Shanti were Murty’s daughters. They were twelve, ten and seven years
old respectively. Their vacation began on that day. For every vacation they would
come down to the grandfather’s place.
Since
all the three kids were brought up there, they were very much attached to their
grandmother and grandfather.
Washing
his hands, Sudheer came over and occupied the chair beside his father-in-law.
The girls sitting across them were eating, with their heads down.
“How’s
by you, Sudheer? Hope you would stay on for a few more days,” inquired Chitti Pantulu,
tasting dal-and-rice with soup.
Bala
and Swarna choked on their food.
“Drink
some water, kids,” suggested Rajyam. “Maybe, your mom and dad are thinking of
you.” She fetched them water.
Shanti
who was seated beside her sisters was wiping her lips after taking in every
mouthful of food.
A
tad confounded, Rajyam reacted: “What happened dear? Is it a little spicier?
Have some sugar.” She served a couple of spoonfuls. Both the elder sisters
looked sidelong at Shanti. Her eyes were full of tears.
***
“Where
are the kids, aunty?” Sudheer asked Rajyam, who was dining.
“Haven’t
noticed. As soon as the lunch was over, they tidied up the table and vanished.
Don’t know in which backyard they are playing around. Caring not the sun or the
rain, they simply fly away like a dragonfly.”
“I have
gone out and searched every backyard. Found them nowhere. Where do they go normally?
I have brought a few comic books. Like to show them to them,” said Sudheer.
“No idea
where they have gone. Maybe, they are in someone’s house. They have lots of
friends, anyway, in this village,” answered Rajyam, who somehow found his ways
a bit annoying. He came here ostensibly on the work concerning his farms and
their lease. But there was no inkling of his attention toward it. Day in and
day out, he hung around with children and indulged in fun and frolic and
childish pranks just like a juvenile.
“Tell me, Sudheer. Has the tenant met you? Have you
attended to the job you came on here?”
“Not yet, aunty. He requests me to wait for a
couple more days. Whether to stay on or leave, I am debating. If I get leave,
I’ll stay on.”
“Ok. Do get finished with the job before you go.
Instead of leaving Jaya there in the town every now and then, this would be
better.” Getting up, she went out to wash her hands in the backyard and to get
ready for her other chores.
Sudheer restlessly tarried here and there, and made
for his room on the upstairs, in desperation.
Observing all of this by peeping through a hole in
the kitchen wall, Swarna jumped up and darted on into the bedroom of her
grandfather. No one would use that room during the daytime, except when he wouldn’t
go out to the fields. Rajyam, after having her lunch and neatening the kitchen,
would always relax on the divan in the living room. She wouldn’t get a wink
without now and then vaguely watching the scenes moving on the TV and hearing that
noise.
By that time, Bala had already sneaked into her
grandfather’s room. She partly dragged the large kalamkari3 blanket from the teak four-poster bed,
letting it drape down to the floor level and cover the view of the space under
the bed from the door-side.
With the other two sides of the bed having an
elegant arch-like design covering three-fourths of their length, the
arrangement made by Bala resulted in the shape of a chamber under the bed. Swarna
fetched Shanti, who was still in a daze, into the room and drew the door to.
The three sisters slid under the vast canopy bed.
And pop, Shanti burst into tears, pointing the
inside of her under-lip, pricked and reddened by the front tooth. Sitting on
either side, her sisters kept stroking her hands, even as her eyes turned red.
“Akkaa4!
Why uncle kisses so hard? Isn’t it bad? He hugged me tight, and it hurt me all
over here… Even my leg had hurt. Holding the leg, he whirled me around.” Shanti
wailed, pointing at her back.
With reddened eyes, Bala looked at Swarna.
“Yes, Akkaa!
He pulls at my cheeks too. And he squeezes me here… And kisses me here… It’s so
sickening.” Swarna showed her bosom and throat.
“You’re right. He does it in the manner of the
heroes and the heroines in the movies. He pesters me even much more. Whatever
he reaches to – hand or ear or lips – he goes on thrusting kisses. What shall we do? But he keeps quiet in front
of grandparents. And he never visits us though he and we live in the same town.
Only here, he behaves like that. How come he gets to know whenever we visit the
village? Hush! Don’t speak aloud.” Bala whispered, and the other two nodded.
“Shall we do one thing? We will let it out to
grandmother or to grandfather. Or shall we return to town saying that we are
homesick to see mother?” suggested Swarna.
“Mom and dad had left us here saying that they would pick us up only
after a week.”
“In fact, we should tell all to mom. My teacher
told us to do so whenever we experience such things. Let’s go soon to our place
and pour out our heart to mom,” said Bala.
Bala and Swarna were deliberating the matter like
at an international summit. With widened eyes, Shanti looked on at them and
lent an ear.
Meanwhile, bolts of thunder and lightning struck
with a crashing sound. And the leaves of the window began to flap rapidly and
violently. “Oh my god!” Shanti cried and clung to her sister, and Bala kept
stroking her. Just then there was a sound of opening the door.
Rajyam rushed in and bolted the window. Satisfied
that only a small spray of raindrops had blown in, she pulled the door to and
left.
***
In his room upstairs, Sudheer shuffled about, all
hot and bothered. He had come with certain wishes and hopes. But what was
happening? Nothing was materialising. The moment they sensed his presence,
children were running away from him. If he returned home, he could spend time
at least with Jaya. And to make matters worse, there was this overcast sky,
rain and chill.
No way could he stir out. Of course, some of the
roads in this village were good enough, but the rest were muddy with pools and
puddles here and there.
Shucks! Even the power went off! It was an ancient
building, so the windows were small. A pall of gloom descended into the room,
pouring oil on the flames. Clutching the window bars, he surveyed the rain for
a while.
In the light of the intermittent flashes of
lightning, the fall of raindrops glistened like strands of silver. Abruptly, the
wind changed its direction and a gust of prickling drizzle sprayed in onto his
face, and he swagged, as from a shock.
He shut the window and went downstairs. The door to
uncle’s room was drawn to. For a moment he thought of pushing it open, but some
shade of propriety lurking somewhere in him, reined him in. Prowling about all
over the house, he opened the street-side door and looked out as far as the eye
could reach. A little later, he retired into his room and hit the bed, wrapping
himself from head to toe under the blanket. By the time he got up, rain
appeared to have subsided. There was no noise around. Fan was turning on. No
clue when the power had been back. The clock chimed five. Tempted by the aroma
of coffee wafting around, he jauntily climbed out of the bed and down the
stairs.
His eye roved onto the three children attending to
some chores. In a fit of exuberance he pranced over to Bala and was about to close
her eyes… when Rajyam stepped in from the backyard.
“Take a seat, Sudheer. After having your coffee, go
out and see if your tenant is around,” she said.
“It’s on my mind, aunty,” he answered, and turned
to the kids. “How about you, Bala and kids? Let’s all amble out together. The
rain has been off, and the trees have taken a shower. Strolling by them at this
hour would be a cheerful experience.”
“Sorry, uncle. We have lots of domestic work. You
please proceed,” answered Bala, turning the other side, and scrubbing the
potatoes, as if washing them was her only mission.
***
He
was over nose deep and his eyes were about to steep into the slop. Precisely at
this instance, he had noticed Bala who fetched Manga and was pointing toward
him. Tossing her head, Manga dragged Bala by hand and flitted away.
Yes,
he deserved this punishment for the treachery he was guilty of. The number of
girls and women he had seduced in his life was too difficult to count. Could it
be a score? The number excluded those whom he had pawed, lipped and enjoyed.
When it came to this, no age was a bar. Everyone was good enough in his leering
view – from little girls to grown-up women. Taking advantage of his god-gifted
handsomeness, he had lured them in a hundred ways. He had never spoken to any
female without touching them… except Rajyam, his aunty. He was getting out of
breath. The other day when the female folk in the house had been out to attend
a women’s traditional get-together (perantam5),
Manga happened to come in to clean his room. Despite her pleas and
protestations, he got to force himself on her.
“Sir,
I am a married woman… please spare me…”
Still,
he advanced… but had to let her go, when there was a knock on the door.
Now
even after seeing that he was drowning, if she had left in a huff tossing her
head, how was she to blame?
‘Oh
God! If you save me now, I won’t ever… What! Shall I have to reap the
punishment here and now? Or does the so-called Hell lie elsewhere?
***
“Where’s
the hurry, mom, to go to the village now? And, after all, the grandparents are
doing fine over there. When we visit them now, we don’t have time to stay even
for a couple of days. Because we have got to return tomorrow itself and I need
to reach hostel in time,” said a sullen Sandeep. He was Jaya’s elder son and driving
the car. It had been bought on her office loan and they used it on occasions
like this when all the family had to go out.
“I
don’t know why, but it is some unease that is pulling me over there. And I have
a hunch to take you two along.” Jaya explained, with a tremor in her voice.
“Don’t
worry, mom. Nothing untoward would happen, everything would be alright,” joined
Anudeep, the younger one, reaching out his comforting arm onto her shoulder.
“Dad
had left for the village last Friday. Had you been home that week, all of us
would have gone together then itself. But for the occasional short calls, he
wouldn’t quite update us with the happenings at the place. Says, it has been
raining during the daytime for the last four or five days. Anyway, what’s the
big job he is up to, I don’t understand,” she taunted.
“The
other day when I called him, he said he had applied for leave for this entire
week. Said, he would return once the job was finished. Don’t you worry, mom.
Anyway, nothing would affect him. He must be enjoying it all,” said Sandeep.
Jaya swerved to stare at him, with his focus on driving. Was there any sarcasm
in his words, she wondered.
“Hey!
Stop here! Isn’t it our motorbike over there?” Jaya cried, squeakily.
With
Sandeep hitting the brakes, Jaya jerked forward.
“Yes,
it’s ours. Maybe, daddy has pulled over here for some break,” guessed Anudeep,
climbing out of the car and approaching the bike. Jaya looked around too. But
none to be spotted anywhere in the eyeshot. No trace of any human presence.
Sandeep
also slid out of the car. He strode across to the clump of trees and peered
around. There was nothing he could find except the twitter of the birds. Yonder
were seen Bala and Manga leading the way for Chitti Pantulu. By that time, it
had been over half an hour since Sudheer got buried deep into the mire.
******
Notes:
1.
The Telugu original story with the title ‘Shiksha Ikkade’ (Punishment here and
now) was published in the largest circulated Telugu monthly, Swati, Mar 2017.
2. Maya Bazar: An all-time multi-starrer
hit Telugu/Tamil movie based on a fictional episode from Mahabharata, produced
in 1957; the story revolving around Abhimanyu’s love affair and his encounter
with Ghatotkacha.
3. Kalamkari: A type of hand- or block-printed
Indian cloth, popular in Andhra.
4. Akkaa: Akka is elder sister in Telugu.
Akkaa is its vocative case.
5. Perantam: Pronounced as Pay + Run +
Tum. Traditional sociocultural neighbourhood gathering of Hindu women &
girls (excepting widows).
Original Writer’s Bio: Dr Mantha Bhanumathi, PhD (Chemistry), based in Hyderabad, is a prominent Telugu writer.
Her output includes: 21 novels, 75 short stories, and 500 metrical poems
published in various magazines, winning prizes across the genres in competitions.
Her published books are 3 novels – Ramayanam Mamayya [Ramayana Uncle], (prize
winner in Andhra Bhoomi competitions); Glacier (prize winner in Rachana
Patrika competitions); Aggi-pettelo Aaru Gajaalu [Six Yards within a
Matchbox], (a popular novel portraying the handloom weavers’ lives,
originally serialised in the Andhra Bhoomi weekly); AND 3 collections of
short stories – Ananta Vaahini (Perennial Stream); Jeevana Vaahini (Stream of
Life); Manthaara Maala (Garland of Mandaaras from Mantha). Her other
activities include music and yoga. She retired as a Reader from a
government degree college. Email: bhanuramarao@gmail.com
Translator’s
Bio: U Atreya Sarma, living
between Hyderabad and Bengaluru, is a Poet, Freelance
Editor-Writer-Translator; and Chief Editor of the Muse India literary
e-journal. http://museindia.com/viewteam.asp?id=945
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