Kanheilal Das
Translated from the Odia by
Supriya Prasanta
I am in bed reading the newspaper. Prashanti has fallen asleep. Mosquitoes create an annoying buzz round my ears.
Transport Strike Hits Koraput: Jeypore, 10/ 05 (NP): Due to a strike by the transport department employees, the bus service across the Koraput zone stopped since yesterday. Not a single bus piled the roads, but the buses stuck elsewhere have returned to their zonal stand. This being the wedding season, there were instances of guests remaining stuck at brides’ villages.
When I married Prashanti, such strikes were unheard of those days. When I got down the express bus dressed as a groom along with my friends in Prashanti’s town, it seemed as though everything was as beautiful, innocent and quiet as Prashanti. Every house had a garden in front; they overflowed with abundance. When I sat close to Prashanti on the wedding altar reciting mantras, for a moment I was overcome by a desire to pick the flowers printed on the saris of young girls standing nearby and weave garlands out of these for each of them. But then, Prashanti came to my house wearing the nuptial garland I put round her neck. A garden was raised in front of our house. Our house brimmed with prosperity. There was plenty of food and clothes in flower-prints. After a carefree year, little Anand was born, filling Prashanti with the joys of motherhood. Prashanti would stay awake late into the night, talking to herself and fanning mosquitoes away from Anand with the end of her sari. Gone are those days. Now, she simply sleeps like a log.
Freight Train Derails at Raniganj: 10/5: On the second day of the strike of Railway employees, the protesters had removed fishplates from the railway tracks two miles before Raniganj. As a result, two wagons of a freight train carrying coal from Raniganj coal mines derailed. The police have been deployed at all the major stations of the Eastern Railway to prevent further mishaps and the situation is now under control.
I cherished train journeys forever. When I was a bachelor, I would hop into any passenger train without any destination in mind. I loved looking at people of different regions and set foot on new places. It was like an addiction. When Anand was born, that passion suddenly reawakened in me. One day, I got onto a train with Anand and Prashanti. A distantly related cousin lived in Sundargarh. I wished to spend a few days at his house. The train ran along in the dark. I noticed how it crossed past stations. I sat by a window. Anand had his head in my lap and his tiny, round feet in Prashanti’s and slept blissfully. Prashanti was dozing. I winched my neck towards her like a giraffe and silently blew her kisses. Suddenly the train seemed to pick up high speed. The wheels clanked and screeched. And the lights went out in a blink. It seemed as though the world had turned upside down. I could not comprehend anything instantly, but when I was conscious of myself, I could know the train had derailed. I groped amid the heaps of boxes, suitcases, and beddings and traced Prashanti at last, first her leg and then the rest of her out of the debris. I and Prashanti returned from hospital after two weeks. Prashanti withdrew into a cocoon. She would sleep like a log. She would spend most of her time, lying on bed. It seemed as though she dreamt of Anand. She is in deep sleep now.
Price of Paddy must go down: Baragarh, 10/5: Sri Subhendu Mund has reported that since the government has made a hike in the paddy procurement prices at the beginning of the year, it has caused strong discontent among the consumers who had to buy paddy. How people will cope with rising prices until the next harvest is being discussed everywhere. Protest meetings are being held in several places to arrive at a remedy. The government should not allow this matter get out of control. Again, it is not in favour of farmers if the government lowers the price of paddy and rice. Hence, the government must deliberate carefully on this matter and benefit the public by lowering the price sooner than later.
Everything went on as usual. Suddenly, price of paddy and rice started rising like a raging fire. Gradually, I felt Prashanti getting weaker day by day. Her bone marrows seemed empty without any vitality. I would witness her coming out of kitchen drenched in sweat. She would pant impossibly even after sweeping the floor. The corners of her eyes darkened, the colour of her lips faded. Then, one day, Prashanti announced that she was pregnant. I would fuss over her, kiss her, trying to sugarcoat on my pale, bitter memories of Anand. I declared the names for the unborn child: Sundar, if a boy; Kalpana, if a girl. Prashanti would stare at me blankly. I filled the cabinets with tins of Amul milk powder from the black market. Prashanti, too, suddenly grew lively again. Perhaps she had a presentiment that she would have a daughter this time. During the day, she would untie her long hair, sit with her legs stretched out, stitching tiny little frocks. Those days, Prashanti would talk to me long into the nights, stroke my back and run her beautiful soft fingers through the hair on my chest. But no longer. Prashanti just sleeps without a care.
Demonstration by Provident Fund Employees: Bhubaneswar, 10/5
In response to a call by the General Secretary of the Provident Fund Employees Union, all the employees demonstrated in front of the Commissioner’s office yesterday. The demonstration was held on the basis of the eight-point charter of demands, which includes an immediate salary hike and fixation of a new pay scale among other things. If the demands are not met within a month, the union has announced that strikes and protests would be held all over the country.
I remember, that day a demonstration was supposed to be held at our office demanding salary hike and all that. Prashanti was in labour. I was pacing the corridor in front of the labour room, smoking one cigarette after another. Sundar, if a boy; Kalpana if a girl. When the rocket cracker of my imagination soared high and then was slowly falling back, the nurse appeared. I went inside. I put my comforting hands on Prashanti’s head and rushed out of the room. Then I headed straight for the demonstration at the office and shouted my lungs out there. Kalpana was stillborn. Since that day Prashanti grew strangely lifeless. She hardly talked to anyone. She ate very little, swallowed pills of all kinds and colour, and slept. Now-a-days, she would swallow those medicines and sleep the whole time.
One Culprit Arrested: Balasore, 10/5 (NP): Early morning of 8th May. A man named Ashoke Maity was caught red-handed while he was trying to burgle a house in Manikhamba. The burglar was caught in the early hours of 8th May, and was immediately sent to the lock-up by the ASI of the local police station. The culprit hails from Khankhola of Hooghly and is suspected of being involved in a series of burglaries.
After the tragedies, I had tried hard to keep Prashanti happy. I had borrowed money and bought her beautiful saris and jewellery of the latest designs. I found she never wore them, but stacked them in the closet. One morning, when I awoke, I found Prashanti sitting, her hair disheveled; she was staring blankly. The closet was wide open. I couldn’t comprehend anything. Prashanti pointed out at the back door, which was wide open, too. All the promises of happiness I had bought for her from the market were stolen by some robber in the dead of night. Prashanti had slept through that night as soundly as she sleeps now.
Acute Scarcity of Food Grains and Kerosene: Ali, 10/5 (NP): In addition to the shortage of food grains, the scarcity of kerosene has severely hit this area. Rice sells for rupees 2.50 a kilogram as does wheat flour. The price of semolina has shot up to rupees 3 per kilogram and Dalda palm oil to rupees 14. Since two months, Kerosene is not available even at rupees 1.50 a litre. The majority of the inhabitants of the region are daily wage earners. They are facing starvation without any regular source of income. It is demanded that the government must open at least two, three ration outlets and supply food grains and kerosene without further delay.
I shut the paper and threw it over my head. I would stop subscribing to newspapers. The same news everyday—demonstrations, strikes, burglaries, suicides, price rises, starvation, death….What’s new? Prashanti rubbed her neck. Perhaps a mosquito bit her. She was already anemic. On top of it, mosquitoes feeding off of her blood! She rolled on to her side alluringly, facing me. The top button of her blouse was open. Deep within, I felt a quiet desire to make love to her.
A mosquito flew past my ears with a murmur. I got up and fixed the mosquito net. Now I and Prashanti were safe. I called her. She just moaned in her sleep. I switched off the light and lay on bed facing her. I lifted her thin hand that fell between us and put it across my waist, drawing closer to her. Her breath, hot like a patient’s, touched my cheek. At that point, I felt that a mosquito was flying around inside the net with an irritating buzz. I waved my hand soundlessly. While unbuttoning Prashanti’s blouse, I felt that the mosquito was sitting on the back of my hand. I shook my hand vigorously, it flew away.
I called Prashanti again. But she lay like a lifeless object. How I wished she would rise, put her hands around my neck, and whisper into my ears: “No matter how ravaged the world is, I love you.” Suddenly, that mosquito brushed past my nose. When I pressed my lips on Prashanti’s cheek, I longed for her kisses! At this time, that mosquito stung me on the cheek. I slapped my cheek. I got out of the bed and switched on the light.
Mosquitoes still buzzed from behind some corner. I sat still inside the net, my eyes fixed on Prashanti. I knew she would not wake up before sunrise. It was useless to call her. I slowly undressed her and turned her on her back. I felt an army of mosquitoes entering inside the net through an unknown pathway one by one. I saw one mosquito perched on the net over our head. I angrily squished it between my palms. There was just the sound of clap. My own hands hurt. I saw another mosquito settled comfortably on Prashanti’s bare breast and sucking blood into its needles. As soon as I lifted my hand, it flew away.
Then I felt a mosquito stinging my back, while another appeared like a birth mark on Prashanti’s cheek. And yet another seemed to raise a protest near my ear. I saw mosquitoes sitting on my shoulder, my forehead, my cheek and everywhere. I saw hordes of mosquitoes settled on Prashanti’s body; they appeared like countless birthmarks on her.
Helpless, I got up to switch off the light before sleeping. It was then I discovered Prashanti’s beautiful body had transformed into a sheet of newspaper and the mosquitoes, the printed letters in black ink. I could clearly read the news of the day: railway strike, labour strike, demonstrations, protests, staggering price rise, burning houses, suicides, starvation deaths, and a hint of an impending revolution in the world….
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