By:
Ishwar Chander
Translated by Param Abichandani
It
was really a surprise meeting. They had run into each other after almost
eight years. They were too dazed for words and for quite some-time stood
merely looking at each other. When the surprise ebbed away, they spoke
a few words and then went into a nearby restaurant. A seven-year-old boy
accompanied the woman.
They
occupied a table near the one occupied by an Anglo-Indian couple. The boisterous
laughter of the couple drew their attention. The woman caught the eye of
her companion and smiled. Said she, "They not only speak English, but also
laugh in English." The joke probably missed its effect on the man. She
didn't mind. She knew that the man was devoid of a sense of humour. He
had always been like that, even when she had met him eight years ago.
She
preferred to remain vague to start with. Thumbing over the pages of the
menu, she casually asked, "When did you land in this place?"
"Three
days ago."
"Oh!
I see. What brought you here, anyway?"
He
meditated for a moment and said, "The monotonous and dreary life in Madras.
It had been getting on my nerves for sometime. I thought of having a change
in the environs and came away."
He
brought out a pack from his pocket, took a cigarette and lit it. He placed
the pack and the matchbox on the table.
"I
thought you would have changed during all these years. But you haven't."
He
looked at her quizzically, trying to understand the import of her remark.
He asked, "Changed in what way?"
"You
didn't offer me a cigarette. Didn't courtesy demand it?" She picked up
the pack, took out a cigarette and lit it.
With
a surprised look the man watched her smoke. Before he spoke, the waiter
came to their table for the order.
"Now
for tying up the threads, tell me what happened after I left?" he said,
mixing sugar in the coffee.
"What's
there to tell? After they turned me out of the college, I went home to
live with my parents." She stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray. "My
parents were very angry, but as time passed their ire subsided."
"You
didn't marry?"
"No.
Who would marry me even if I wanted to? Then again, what about Babu?Mummy
was dead and it wasn't possible for Daddy, physically or otherwise, to
look after the boy. Yes, my marriage was almost settled, but the man didn't
like the idea of Babu living with us."
"Have
coffee." He pushed the cup towards her.
She
picked up the cup and said, "I would like to ask you a question."
"What
would you like to have?" The man asked turning his head to the woman.
"Oh!
no," the woman said."Presently you
are a visitor here, and so you are my guest. Do I sound formal? I am not.
I want to have it that way. That's all." She turned to the waiter and ordered
two coffees and a piece of pastry.
"The
pastry is for Rambabu." She said when the waiter went away. The man cast
his glance upon the boy briefly and casually asked, "Who is he?"
"Don't
you know him?" The woman asked. There was sadness in her voice.
The
man looked intently at the boy and said, "No, I don't."
"Look
at him carefully," the woman said. "Of course, he is your son." She gave
him the information in an easy manner.
The
man drew on the cigarette rather heavily. Now without taking further interest
in the boy, he asked, "When did you start smoking?"
"After
Mummy's death," the woman replied, exhaling smoke from her mouth.
"Oh!
I am sorry. So your Mummy is ...."
"Yes,
she is no more." She cut him short with a callous abruptness.
"Now
there are only the two of you, you and your father."
"No,
there are three of us."
"How
far did you go up in college?" It was an effort to change the topic and
steer clear of the boy.
"Only
that far as you know. I asked you to marry me. You couldn't decide. You
probably thought that I was a fast girl, not having the desired reputation
and if you married me, how you would conduct yourself in the prevailing
social structure. I had warned you that I wouldn't kill my child. I decided
to bring him into this world and boldly own him as my child. That's what
I did. You know that it was at that time that they threw me out of the
college."
The
man muttered a few inaudible, sympathetic words. "I am sorry all this happened.
You know I had to leave for Madras rather in a hurry."
"Yes,
I remember everything. But why are you feeling guilty? I don't blame you
for whatever happened. It was my fault, too. Well, forget it."
The
man brought out a packet from his pocket. "Coffee is yet to arrive. Have
a chewing gum in the meanwhile," he said offering the packet to the woman.
"When
did you become a chewing gum addict?" She asked.
"The
day I landed in Madras. I become nostalgic when I chew the gum. It reminds
me of old times -- the days gone by."
The
woman made no reply. She took out two pieces from the packet, popped one
into her mouth and gave the other to her child. The waiter brought the
order.
"Now
for tying up the threads, tell me what happened after I left?" he said,
mixing sugar in the coffee.
"What's
there to tell? After they turned me out of the college, I went home to
live with my parents." She stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray. "My
parents were very angry, but as time passed their ire subsided."
"You
didn't marry?"
"No.
Who would marry me even if I wanted to? Then again, what about Babu?Mummy
was dead and it wasn't possible for Daddy, physically or otherwise, to
look after the boy. Yes, my marriage was almost settled, but the man didn't
like the idea of Babu living with us."
"Have
coffee." He pushed the cup towards her.
She
picked up the cup and said, "I would like to ask you a question."
"Please
do."
She
changed her mind and sipped coffee silently. He had finished coffee. He
wiped his mouth with his handkerchief and ran his fingers over his moustache.
She
asked, "When did you start sporting a moustache?"
"Oh!
That ...." He laughed lightly. "Just for the sake of fun. I have a friend
in the army who sports a moustache. I thought, I would look smart if I
grew one like him." He lit another cigarette. "Now tell me, doesn't it
enhance my personality?"
"It's
alright." The woman said. "I need your advice aboutsomething.
What kind of education will suit Babu? We have to think about it right
away. I mean the profession we would like to put him in."
"Whatever
you choose would be the best."
"That's
no answer. Do you think you owe him nothing?"
"Why
do you repeat the same thing again and agian? You are free to bring up
the child the way you want to."
They
sat silent for a while. Suddenly the woman placed the lit cigarette on
the lips of the boy and asked him to inhale. The boy was surprised. Seeing
the stern look in his mother's eyes, he held the cigarette in his fingers
and drew at it. Cough ensued and he kept coughing for sometime.
"What's
all this about?" The man shook his head disapprovingly. "How can you ask
a child to smoke?"
"What's
wrong with that?" Her eyes emitted a gleam of mischief for an instant and
then she presented a grave face.
The
man discerned a note of suppressed anger in the woman's eyes. "Nothing
wrong with that," he said in a mellow voice. "Don't you think he can do
without it? It wasn't good for him, I thought."
"If
only I could have found out the difference between good and evil
things
wouldn't have come to such a pass. But then, I give it a damn. I must live
somehow, whatever the circumstances."
The
man was getting bored now. However, feigning interest in the subject, he
said, "I must tell you something very interesting. That cavity in your
neck still looks so beautiful ..."
The
woman watched him silently, glueing her eyes on his face.
"Are
you still fond of eating monkey-nuts?" He asked, his eyes devouring hers.
"No.
I now detest monkey-nuts. They remind me of the culvertnear
the cremation ground where I spent so many evening those days. Please don't
mention the monkey-nuts. I have been trying to forget the past. I want
to forget everything having the slightest link with the past." She heaved
a deep sigh and continued, "Now it's only me and Babu. Nothing else remains
-- nothing." The
man could sense her sentiments. He said, "Well, I don't see any change
in your eyes." Her
eyes had moistened. He panicked and hurriedly called for the bill. He was
afraid she might create a scene. She was really getting worked up. Emerging
from the restaurant, they walked a while along the footpath. In the meanwhile,
the woman regained her composure. "Are
you married?" She asked him after a brief silence. "No,
not yet." "There
seems to be no need either," she said laughing. As
if caught on the wrong foot, the man surveyed her with a blank expression. "How
long do you think you would be here?" She asked. "Why
do you want to know?" "No
reason. Just by the way." "Maybe
for a month or so." "Oh!"
She said it in a casual manner which had nothing to do with what the man
had said. For
a few moments they walked in silence. "Let's
meet again," the man said. "What do you do with your evenings?" "Nothing."
Her voice betrayed remorse. "After you left, everything looked strange
and disjointed. I had had enough of your 'goodness.' I don't need more
of it." He
winced at her words. She looked at her watch and hailed a taxi. "I must
be going now," she said. She turned towards the man and said, "Won't you
love Babu a little?" The
man looked briefly at the boy in surprise and then stood still. "Doesn't
matter." There was sadness in her voice. "You may not know your mind, but
I know mine. I would hate my son to beg for love. I merely wanted to see
how you felt about him. Well...." She pushed Babu in the taxiand
then climbed in. There were tears in her eyes. She
wiped off the tears quickly and turned to Babu. "My son, not a word to
Daddy about your smoking a cigarette. I don't know what seized me to do
it. I don't know why do I behave so queerly sometimes. I really don't know." ======================================================
Published in the 'Indian
Literature' Vol 187 by Sahitya Akademi