Original Konkani story:
Nirbhoi Nishpap
Author: Datta Shripad Naik
Translator: S.M. Borges
Lying on the hospital bed, I was lost in thought. Some time back, a sparrow had hatched a few nestlings in our backyard; how big might they have grown today?
A few days back, while leaving the house, I had seen the mother sparrow feed them. I could see their tiny pink mouths when they opened them wide.
I felt an urge to take two of those nestlings and keep them in a cage. But I could not, because I was unable to walk. The cage occupied by the parrot, recently dead, is now empty, anyway.
I told this to Mama.
Mama said, “Laloo, you must not ill-treat animals and birds. It is a sin. If you desire to get well fast, don’t commit such a sin”.
I kept quiet.
The neighbours’ black doggie had littered four puppies. I had seen the little ones suckling on their mother’s milk, squealing all the while. Among them, I had also noticed a snow-white puppy and asked the neighbour auntie to give me that white puppy. And she had promised that she would. Presently, I limped to the window. I called out to my neighbour who came out in response. I said, “Ramabai, you will certainly give me that pup. Won’t you?” She replied, “Laloo dear, I shall most certainly give it to you. You get well fast and then you can come and take that pup. I have reserved it just for you.
My mother, who was standing behind me, said, “Come on, Laloo! Go to sleep now.” And she dabbed her eyes with the border of her saree.
I don’t understand what is wrong with Mama at present. She looks at me and keeps weeping and dabbing her eyes. Whenever I have woken up in the last few days, I have noticed my mother sitting on my bed and watching me with moist eyes. What is wrong with her?
I blurted out, “Why are you always weeping, the last few days, Mama?” In response to that, she just hugged me and began to sob. I felt so very sorry. I cannot bear to see my mother weep.
I said, “Please don’t cry, Mama. Whenever you cry, I too feel like crying.
*********
I remembered the cat. One of his eyes had swollen; the eyeball was bulging out like a small balloon.
Whenever there is a swelling on my eye, my Mama foments it with coriander potion. Had I been alright, I would have surely done the same for the cat’s eye.
***********
Now…I have been in the hospital for four days. My Mama and Papa brought me to Mumbai by train. My leg aches a great deal. I just cannot bear the awful, stinging pain. I feel like crying whenever the pains come shooting. But I don’t cry. Instead, I whistle aloud. I hide my tears and look at Mama with a cheerful smile. Whenever I cry, I can see my suffering on my Mama’s face; and I can’t bear to see that.
***********
I recalled.
While traveling by taxi to the railway station, we saw a dead donkey at the curve in the road near Dadushet’s restaurant. A speeding lorry had struck him dead. I noticed his ugly, wide-open mouth, his blood-soaked body and the swarms of flies on the carcass.
I felt sorry. The poor donkey was dead. I was reminded of the song,
“Veena gheunbaslabokad
Paleyaatvaazaitatablenmakad
‘Hon… Aahon…Ohon…Hon’
Vairsakailkaritmaan
Gadav gavaimartataan”
(“The goat is sitting with the Veena
Behold the monkey playing the tabla,
Hon…Ahon…Ohon…Hon
With his head nodding up and down
The donkey singer is crooning”)
The donkey’s wide open mouth did resemble a crooner’s.
“The donkey singer is crooning”.
I said, “Mama, I pity that donkey. Look! He is lying there all alone. Doesn’t he have any relatives?”
***********
I recollected.
For four days before I came to Mumbai, my neighbour Asha did not come to see me at all. Perhaps my mother and hers had dissuaded her from coming over.
Asha had said, “Laloo, you are going to die in a few days. I overheard my mother telling my father. You know? They say that a dead person never comes back. He goes to stay with God.” And she had pointed a finger towards the sky.
Then I had said to Asha, “Ashuli, Bishuli, Pishuli! I shall have a great time at God’s house. I won’t take you along. Do you know? When a person dies, he can see people, but the people cannot see him. I shall knuckle you on your head, I shall pull your braids…You will not be able to see me. You could keep crying for all I care. I shall quietly pinch you. Ashuli, Bishuli, Pishuli! You must not die. I shall die. And have fun!”
Asha said, “You fool! Laloo, once a person dies, he can do nothing. Dead persons talk to ghosts. Only to ghosts! Do you understand? And do you know? Those ghosts have protruding pointed teeth, like fangs.”
I had hit Asha hard on her back, hard enough to hurt. I like to annoy Ashuli. The moment she got the rap, Asha’s eyes were filled with tears. But, despite that, she kept quiet.
It pains me to see Asha cry. Or even look sad.
I said, “Asha my queen! You are my wife and I’m your husband.” I tried to humour Asha. But Asha did not utter a word. Whenever I see this expression on Asha’s face, I feel something snap within me. I cannot remain at peace.
“Look Asha,” said, “If I die, I shall sit on the twig of that Parjat tree and chat with you. O.K.? You could stand at your window, and I shall shake the twig. If the twig shakes thrice, you can rest assured that am sitting there. And then you could talk to me.” I tried to cheer her up.
“Laloo!” she said in a voice choked with emotion. “But then… you will not be able to speak to me. You will not be able to talk to your Mama.”
“Ashuli, Bishuli, Pishuli! You are a donkey! A buffalo! I don’t want a flat-nosed wife, like you.
Asha began to cry. I felt sorry to see her cry in this fashion. I touched Asha’s cheek and said, “Asha, my queen! You are my wife. And I am your husband.”
“Laloo! Kaloo! You are a buffalo! A donkey! I don’t need a flat-nosed husband like you.” She ran away making faces at me all the while. If I could get my hands on her, I would have whacked her. But what could I do? I cannot walk. My leg aches. The pain is unbearable.
When my mother returned, I asked her, “Mama, am I going to die soon?”
“Oh, my child! Thumekal! God Forbid! Please don’t utter such rubbish.” With these words, my mother hugged me and she began to choke with sobs. Cuddled in her arms thus, I also noticedPapa stand there and wiping his eyes.
What’s this! Grown-ups cry too?
********
I recalled.When we came to the hospital, my father had been carrying me. While moving on the pavement outside the hospital, I noticed a man lying there. Wearing soiled, tattered shorts, he was sleeping with his mouth wide open. Flies were buzzing on his mouth and nose.
“Oh my God! It appears that this man is dead!” My mother screamed and closed her eyes. But I observed that man. He looked exactly like the donkey at the curve near Dadushet’s restaurant.
“The donkey singer is crooning.”
Perhaps because he was dead, his face looked so horrid. His mouth was open as if he was suffering great pain.
“Mama, they say that one cannot see a dead person. But I can see this dead man.” I said to my mother. Mama did not say anything, but she covered my eyes with her palm, to prevent me from seeing him.
Will this man turn into a ghost? Will he grow two long, fang-like teeth?
(To be continued …)
