Translated short story from the book:
Nimnno Porob
Author: Late Devidas Babay
Translator: Aditi Budkuley
She had never experienced marital intimacy, but she worked hard to look after Eku. That son of a *itch, on his wedding day, had gone to the backyard to answer nature’s call and was bitten by a snake there. His leg was swollen. It became septic and his entire lower limbs became gangrenous and paralysed. Zaii quietly suffered all the consequences.
However, Zaii was not seen in the village since she had left two years ago for her maternal home. No doubt, wherever she may be, she will hear the news of Nandi’s killing. With this satisfaction, Khapu took another gulp of his drink. He remembered the day when the rancour against Zaii and Nandi sprouted in his mind.
That day, Khapu had been walking to the pond to remove the blockage of the channel to water the plantations. Khapu never realised when Nandi had gotten behind him and threw him down. He hurriedly got up lest anybody sees him. Just then, “That is Nandi Bhatkara!” echoed a woman’s voice.
Khapu turned around. Covering her mouth, Zaii giggled as she walked ahead. He was peeved. He lost his bearing. Until this day, no man in the village had the guts to look at Porob in the eye, or for that matter to laugh or poke fun at him. And here, this woman Zaii?
Khapu’s head was set ablaze as if having chewed on a Tarvotti chilli. He walked straight to the pond. The women were busy washing clothes. Zaii, also among them. All the women were staring at Khapu. Khapu was livid.
He returned. “That is Nandi, Bhatkara!” the words resonating in his mind. “That *itch has grown a voice. Cross me on a lonely by-lane someday. Will drag you to the groves, strip you to the bone and take you. Haven’t been ravaged by a man, have you? Hence the nerve, *itch!”
Khapu was blabbering. His head had shot up aflame. With a long-strided pace he did not even realise when he had gotten home. The next evening, Khapu left with his airgun. Off in search of Nandi. The day was fading into twilight. There was a shot at vhallshi. The entire village heard. It trembled.
Khapu walked up to Nandi. The once-upright animal had fallen. The bullet had dug a hole in its neck. Khapu paused. His step staggered; there was a rip in his heart. Khapu felt the presence of a heart.
Nandi’s eyes were wide open. Tears were streaming down his face. Khapu felt as if those eyes were trying to say something to him. He could no longer bear to see. He turned about and took a step. Nandi’s eyes would not leave him. Stumbling, faltering he made it to the tavern. Shouted an order to Nillu.
“Get me a bottle, you …!”
“One full bottle Bhatkara …?”
“Mothe*******! Have I never drunk?”
Nillu placed the bottle on the table and gave him a glass.
“Another one. I’ll need one at home!”
“I’ll bring it right away Bhatkara…!” Nillu placed another bottle on the table.
“Bhatkara, I heard a gunshot from the direction of the vhallshi,” Nillu says.
“Killed Nandi.”
“That is what I thought! Well. Good riddance. Respite, is one thing he never allowed this village.”
Khapu was oblivious to Nillu’s words. All he could see were Nandi’s eyes and the tears. He did trouble the entire village. Lived the life of a fighter all along but ultimately cried on his deathbed.
Khapu gulped a mouthful. But the sight of Nandi would not budge from his mind. What might he have wanted to say? The day hid. The darkness grew thicker. Stuttering Khapu arose. The one bottle of feni had given him a hit. With the airgun in one hand and a bottle full of feni in the other, he left. Nillu did not dare to ask for money.
Khapu walked on. The road wasn’t clear, but the feet could venture a guess. Lamps were lit in verandahs and every single house was alit. Swaying on his feet, he reached near Antu’s house. He could overhear Antu’s words. He was telling his wife.
“Light the lamp near God!”
“Not today. God alone knows, what peril is to befall this village? The Bhatkar has slain Nandi, hasn’t he? It was Mahadeva’s Nandi after all!” Antu’s pious wife was saying. Antu was quiet.
Khapu continued to walk on. A little ahead in a small garden behind a house some women were talking.
“So what if one Nandi has been killed? As if there isn’t already another to harass
the village?”
“Which other Nandi are you talking about?” Another woman enquired.
“That godforsaken fellow, Porob Bhatkar. The village can be truly free only after he dies. That damned rogue has plagued the entire village. This Nandi also ought to be killed by someone.”
For once, Khapu wasn’t enraged. He kept walking and swaying. As the steps became heavier, he sat down by the peepal tree. He kept the air-gun on the ground and the bottle beside it. The words of those women were revolving in his mind. The other Nandi! That is me. He understood now what Nandi’s eyes wanted to say to him. Possibly Nandi was telling him, “Bhatkara, you have killed yourself.”
His head spun. The strength to think deserted him. He got up and took the bottle in his hand and swallowed a gulp. He walked on. He did not realise that he had left the airgun behind. Guessing the road he made it home. After a long time he had returned home this early. Generally, it would only be past midnight that he would enter the house drunk.
The lamp in the house had been lit. But there wasn’t a lamp at the tulsi yet. He entered and he reached out for the door on the left. The door opened and he saw before his very eyes, what he had heard villagers gossip about and had chosen to turn a deaf ear to. His wife and the labourer were entangled together. After several years, today he had returned early to face an open truth.
Not expecting her husband’s return this early, his wife ran out the room whilst trying to cover her bare form. The labourer was left behind, shivering like a sheep in the
lion’s den.
A bewildered Khapu’s hand holding the bottle swung into the air. And before one knew what was happening the labourer’s scream was heard. The bottle broke over his head, cutting through his cranium. A shard of glass remained wedged in the skull. There was a sudden spurt of blood. Khapu’s shirt was splattered. The bed was full of blood.
The labourer writhed and flayed his limbs about and in a while he lay still. Khapu turned around. He took a step and directly went to Nillu’s tavern. Nillu was startled. Everyone was staring at Khapu.
“Two bottles,” Khapu said.
“But Bhatkara … haven’t you taken one, only a little while ago?”
“That one broke on that labourer’s head. Cut his skull. I came straight from killing him. He flailed his limbs for a while and then died.”
As if he had always seen it coming, he threw a gaze around at everybody. One after another they all slowly withdrew and vanished in the dark. Nillu and Khapu were left.
“And you’ll have both bottles here Bhatkara? It’s already late Bhatkara!”
“Give me the bottles and then you can shut the tavern. I’ll go drink somewhere.”
Nillu hurriedly gave the bottles and began to shut the door. Khapu left. Within moments the news spread through the village. Simultaneously, all lamps went off. All the porches fell dark. The village dissolved in the dark.
Khapu knew only too well. All the lights have shut their eyes, the villagers, however, are wide awake. Whispering on their beds! With a single thought in their heads, “Khapu has killed the labourer”.
Khapu sat on the parapet of the peepal tree with his bottles. He kept downing the feni all night. His eyelids felt heavy like lead. His head was benumbed so he lay there on the parapet itself. The next day around noon Khapu awoke. He got up. He was hand-cuffed. He looked around. The young and old, men and women alike from the village had gathered all around to look at him like they were watching some trained
bear perform.
Khapu turned his gaze at the police standing close-by. Those police, who had eaten of the hunted meat he would send, were waiting for him to wake up. City police!
Khapu got up from the parapet. He threw a glance at all the gathered village folk. He could not read a touch of sorrow in anybody’s eye. He could see the joy and satisfaction on all their faces that resembles the expression, when one punished of capital punishment is set scot free. That’s it! “The last Porob is finished” conveyed the look in every person’s eye. He felt like spitting in their faces.
The jeep was parked beyond the jamun tree. Khapu began to walk silently with the police. The entire village was heaving a sigh of relief and satisfaction. They reached the jamun tree. Khapu’s steps faltered. Standing under the tree was Zaii. Her eyes had welled up. Khapu felt his heart pierce a second time. He was staring into Zaii’s eyes. In the whole of the village, there was but one person who had shed a tear and felt a sense of belonging towards him.
(To be continued…)
