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A QUAINT BOND
(Short story)

Kavisamraat VISVANATHA SATYANARAYANA
(Translated from Telugu by B. V. Srinivasacharyulu)

I was then sixteen or seventeen. We went to a village in connection with a marriage. We formed the bridegroom’s party. Accommodation was provided to us in a private house. The house-­owners adjusted themselves in a small portion, leaving the major portion at our disposal. It was a small village. The marriage was a five-day affair. The house-owners too were coming to the marriage pandal for food both morning and evening. In two days, they became familiar with one and all.

I think it was on the third day afternoon that I happened to be reclining in the hall. The house-owner was a widow. She was living there with her daughter. She had sons also, but they were away in a nearby town prosecuting their studies. In those two days, she gathered that I was studying in a high school and that our family was fairly well-off. Even at that age, I was conversant with the Telugu classics and could recite verses from them somewhat musically. In our parts, widows spend their leisure times mostly in reading Telugu Bharata, Bhagavata or µþ³ó²¹°ì³Ù²¹Â­±¹¾±Âá²¹²â²¹³¾. When the landlady came to know of my acquaintance with the Telugu classics, she developed a sort of affection for me.

Her daughter was about ten years old. She was tall and of fair complexion. The mother was of imposing stature and it appeared the daughter too would grow to her size when she came of age. She was plump; her hands were like balloons. The charm of her face decked with large eyes and dark bushy eye-brows defied all description. Her face seemed to have been moulded by God to demonstrate what beauty was. Whenever she smiled. I can recall now clearly how fondly I longed for her! Though I was elated at meeting the girl, I was equally depressed, for my father performed my marriage when I was hardly ten.

That afternoon while I was reclining in the hall, the mother and daughter came to me. The mother asked me to recite a few verses, which I did. She was immensely pleased.

The daughter was as mischievous as she was beautiful. She began taking liberties with me. We were still very young. All illusions appeared real and charming at that age. If the girl came close to me, if she spoke freely with me, if she laughed, if she cut jokes with me, I would experience a thrill in my body, and my mind would be filled with joy. Her complexion had the lustre of fine gold. I felt as if her glow had entered my body and I had become a luminous object.

As it was the third day of the marriage, all the guests went to the marriage pandal to attend the “Sadasya� function. We three only remained in the house. I do not quite remember all the pranks the girl played with me. This one incident alone stands out � that too vaguely � in my memory.

As I lived in towns for studies from early childhood, there were quite a few things pertaining to the rural environs that eluded my knowledge. I knew some trees and plants but not the dwarf-­chilli berry. It is almost of the size of a red ant, and even at that size it ripens. This girl brought a ripe berry from their yard, said it would be very sweet and told me totaste it. Very cleverly she removed its stalk. I knew small “Kamirchi� fruits and the like, and thought this was also one such variety. Innocently I chewed it. Lo! the burning sensation it caused in my mouth–I couldn’t bear it. I ran hither and thither. I rinsed my mouth with water again and again, but the burning sensation persisted. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and I was in terrible pain. But the girl went on laughing. And the mother, with a suppressed smile, kept quiet. Neither of them hated me; in fact both had an affection for me. Why should I foolishly chew the berry? I felt a little ashamed of myself. And this childish sense of shame ridiculed my longing for her. I was very angry that she should enjoy the fun when I was in extreme suffering. But I had to suppress my sense of shame and anger and had to laugh away the whole thing in jest along with them.

From a casual chat with my mother, the lady understood that I had been married already. She light-heartedly remarked: “How unfortunate! I hoped our girl could join your family as an in­ law.� At the conclusion of the marriage on the fifth day, all of us dispersed.

My wife joined me one or twoyears later. For five or six years, I used to think of that girl now and then. Our two families were not related. Nor had our two villages any links. So much so, in course of time, I completely forgot her.

It was midsummer. I was starving since morning. I boarded the train at Vijayawada at 6 A. M and reached Guntakal at 5-30 P. M. I was proceeding to Anantapur. Maybe it was the seventh day of the bright fortnight � moonlight came early. The Anantapur passenger started. Hot winds were blowing. The throats of all people were parched. One saw nothing but rocks all around. The train was passing over the streams; the sands of the streams looked like their outstretched tongues. No water was available on the train. I was waiting for the next station hoping to get some water there. But station after station passed and no water was available anywhere. There were water-drums marked “Drinking Water�, but they were all empty. I was not able to bear the burning thirst. It was nearing nine. I was alighting in every station and making a hectic search for water on the platforms.

When I got down in one station and was about to start my search, a feminine voice urged me from the ladies� compartment: “Sir! My kids are parched with thirst. Do you mind getting me some water?� The lights in our carriage were dim, but here, in the ladies� carriage, they were burning bright. All the same, as she was talking to me bending forward through the window, her face was not lighted and so I could not see her features clearly. Still I felt she was attractive.

“Yes. I am going for water. If I can find some, I’ll fetch for you too,� I said. She handed me a jar keeping its lid with herself. In that state of extreme thirst, one could not discriminate between a male and a female or a stranger and an acquaintance. Her hand touched mine while handing the jar to me. If water was denied to us for another hour we were all doomed to die. Thus we were just at an hour’s distance from Death. I did experience a thrill at her touch � was it due to my depravity or was it actuated by the normal animal instinct in me?

There was water in that station. I drank to my fill and filled her jar with water. I felt more elated at the thought that I could secure water for her than at my meeting my own need. Was it because I considered my help to her to be so great? Or because of any consideration that she would befriend me in return for my help? I handed her the jar. This time she took care to see that her hand did not touch mine, while receiving the jar. She gave water to her kids. She too drank some. I ought to have left her at once. But I did not. “Is it sufficient? Or shall I fetch another jarful of water, please?� I asked, still standing there in front of her carriage. “No, Sir, not necessary,� she replied. Her gratefulness for my getting her water I could clearly see in her face. But she did not say “Thanks� or “I’m so grateful to you� or anything of that sort, since people untouched by English were not accustomed to such expressions. But in her face and demeanour, one could read more than a thousand such courtesies.

When she was making her kids drink water, I could see her face clearly in the bright light of that compartment. What struck me foremost was her beauty. Later, it occurred to me that I had seen her somewhere in the past. But in her face I could not find any trace of such recognition. If I had met her in the past, she too must have known about it. Besides, some persons look like our close acquaintances, though we never met them before. May­be we knew persons closely resembling them. I ought to have asked her, “To which place do you belong! Where are you bound for?� and so on. She had the looks of one hailing from the Krishna or Godavari District; but certainly not from the Ceded Districts (The four districts Kurnool, Cuddapah, Anantapur and Chittoor of Andhra Pradesh are known as Ceded Districts, since they were ceded by the Nizam to the British). I wanted to draw her into conversation, but somehow I returned to my carriage without doing so.

Two years hence, I got an assignment in that town. I went alone in the first instance and after a vigorous hunt fop accommoda­tion. I could fix up a small portion in a house. That very evening my family joined me. Our adjacent portion remained locked for four days. I enquired of our landlord about my co-tenant. The gist of what I gathered was � that my co-tenant was working in the Collectorate, his wife went to her parents� place for delivery and for the present he was alone. He had gone to his native place on four days� leave. On the fifth day he returned. After acting as a Sub-Magistrate for sometime, he was recently reverted to the Collectorate as an U. D. C. He came home late in the night about ten and left early in the morning. I usually got up at 7-30 A. M. So, it was not possible for us to meet and get acquainted with each other. Besides, as he worked as a Magistrate for sometime, he must have developed a proud attitude. Even after living for four or five months under the same roof we never spoke to each other. We remained strangers. Another month passed.

One evening a jutka (single-horse carriage) stopped in front of our house. A mother with an infant in her arms and three other children alighted from the carriage. I was busy writing something, sitting in front of our portion. Lifting up my head, I saw her. I couldn’t immediately recognise her, as I saw that face in the light of a railway compartment two years ago. But her eyes and eye-brows announced: “Yes. We are the same.� Having alighted from the carriage, she straightaway walked straight into their portion, without even once lifting up her head. She might have thought that someone had come to occupy the adjacent portion and it was improper to look at him. Or her husband might have already told her about us. Whatever it might be, courtesy required that she should look at the person sitting in front of her house. But was she not the wife of a Magistrate? Tomorrow, he might even get a promotion as Tahsildar. She must be assuming superior airs.

I was looking at her right from the moment she alighted from the carriage till she disappeared into the house. Her husband was also with her. He saw me staring at his wife. He might have considered me a mannerless brute. But he could not pick up a quarrel with me on that count. Even though his looks and his gait indicated scorn and reproach, he didn’t open his mouth. But why should I mention all this here? Was it wrong to look at her? Was it not just natural? How was one to know whether the look was casual or prompted by an evil motive?

The point is she looked different now. Though she was exposed to hot winds when I met her on the train, her body and face looked healthy and normal then. Now she was emaciated. The youthful glow was no longer there. Her eyes and cheeks were shrunk. Her delivery was perhaps not normal and she had not yet recovered from the ordeal.

Ten days passed. One day my mother said, “Look here my boy! They are very proud. They would not condescend to mix with us freely.� I asked her to take it easy.

The wells in that town were abysmal. On that day their servant-maid did not turn up. She had to draw water herself from the well not only for drinking, but for other purposes as well. She was still very weak. But her Magistrate husband would not brook any delay. His food should be served at 9-30 A. M. sharp and his orders for the evening were: “Prepare the evening food early. I have to get to office after food.� When I returned home at 5-00 P. M. she was drawing water from the well. After drawing one bucketful of water she began gasping for breath. There were two pitchers to be filled up. Four bucketfuls were needed for each pitcher. “May I have the bucket for a minute? I want to wash my feet,� I asked her. She left the bucket there and went inside. I washed my feet and filled the two pitchers for her and went into our portion.

Three days later one evening when I returned home, I saw her coming out from our portion. She stared at me for an instant. I saw some recognition flashing in her eyes.

Perhaps, her attitude to us softened on account of my drawing water for her, or she might have recollected my securing water for her on the train the other day. She started moving freely with my mother and wife now.

My childhood habit of reciting Te1ugu poems musically developed with my age. I was able to render Telugu verses set to ten to fifteen Ragas and the listeners used to receive them well. It was my habit to recite poems to myself aloud once in a week or ten days, before going to bed. One night I had my usual musical exercise. The next day she told my mother “Oh! Your son sings quite well.�

A week later, while serving me food one morning, my mother said, “Look, my boy! Do you know who this woman is? Do you remember the naughty girl who tricked you into chewing a dwarf ­chilli, when you were a boy, this is that self-same girl. The other day, I had a long talk and elicited all the information. Her younger brother, she said, is now employed in our village. You know Mr. Rama Rao’s house in our street, two houses away from ours, he is now a tenant of a portion of that house. Like myself, her mother too, she said, has grown very old now. She was wondering all these days as to where she had seen you previously. When she listened to your rendering of some verses the other night, she could place you. You rendered a verse, it appears, in the same way as you did it years ago when you were young. Then suddenly it flashed on her mind,� she said.

As expected, her husband got promotion as Tahsildar. The day after I came to know of this from my mother, they vacated the house. On that day I was out of town.

Three years later, I gave up my job in that town and returned to our village. Still her younger brother was living in Rama Rao’s, house. The events in their house were constantly talked in our house. This was what happened. She was carrying again and her younger brother would fetch her here for delivery. It was not possible to bring her in the fifth or the seventh month. Now she was running the ninth month. He had to bring her at last as a result of his mother’s constant goading. She might be ready for delivery any day now.

On the third day, she was in labour pains and the doctor was called in. They spent an anxious night.

In the next two days, her condition became critical. It was not anything to do with her pregnancy. She was suffering from some other serious ailment. People from the neighbourhood went to see her. I too went there. That very instant her end approached. There were none to see that she was laid on the floor. A telegram was sent to her husband, but he did not arrive yet. Myself and her brother had to place her on the floor.

The next day, pal-bearers were not forthcoming. Death of two persons � a woman with child � everyone feared it would bring evil on him. I had to be one of the bearers. I fasted till dusk and took my food after having a glimpse of the stars.

That night I had a dream. In the dream, she was a girl of ten and I was a boy of sixteen. I declaimed a few verses in their house. She brought a dwarf-chilli and asked me to taste it. I chewed it and my mouth burned. Crying loudly, I woke up. I was snoring in my sleep with my mouth agape. An insect known as “Agnimandala� alighted on the tip of my tongue. I had a burning sensation. Not only the tip of my tongue, but even my lips were inflamed. It took ten to twelve days for the wound to heal. I could not eat any food.