A Farmer's Perseverance

by Sreelekha Chatterjee

Vikram wakes up by a pounding at the front door He wonders what the matter could be and who is bothering him so early in the morning.

He opens the door to Sunil, a next-door neighbor, who starts uttering gibberish on seeing him, unable to speak coherently as he struggles to catch his breath his pallid face turns crimson at the next moment with probably hurt or anger, Vikram can’t tell.

It’s the harvest day for all the farmers and instead of being in the field, Sunil has come up to him to inform him about some mishap, natural sorrow, loss, or perhaps, some lastminute emergencies relating to the reaping Vikram observes the pale, cold light of the early morning outside suffusing across the grey-white of the sky. Everything appears to be serene, and calm, except for the young soul at his door

“What’s the matter, Sunil?” Vikram enquires, bringing his face close to that of his neighbor, as a shudder of unease runs through him

“Come quickly Our crops have been eaten I mean damaged by the rats. Biku had gone home early in the morning, leaving the field unattended. It was then that the rats had done the mischief One of them has been caught in the traps set for them ” Anil goes on breathlessly, with lips quivering and taut face muscles, spitting saliva on Vikram’s face due to the proximity of it.

“What? My God!” Vikram almost stumbles on his doorsteps before he manages to sit down unusually still with eyes fixed incredulously on Sunil. In a snapshot, the countless hours spent in cold, rain, and sun, nurturing the crops, attending to their tedious necessities appear before his eyes Everything seems meaningless now, transformed into a void in a matter of minutes just because a tiny creature ventured into the farmland and devoured the fruit of his labor in no time, as if a love affair abruptly vanished in its entirety, eroded like it never existed.

“Will be there in a bit!” He resumes with great difficulty after a brief pause, accompanied by a peculiar expression of disgust and sudden disappointment, feeling nauseous

Anil clomps down the road. Vikram, oblivious of the news of all the trouble and lifeless like a wall, stares at the far, dull-white horizon visible between the gaps of the thicketformed by the moving shoots of his front garden For a moment, he forgets the present earth beneath his feet that has momentarily shifted, leaving a fathomless bottom. He has been trying very hard to get a good harvest in the past The last time it was the untimely rains and now, the rat menace He bolts the door and trudges back inside

“What happened? You look so pale.” His wife, Malati, asks wide-eyed.

“We managed to get a good harvest this time The weather was conducive, but the rats ” Vikram felt several teardrops hanging from his eyes, and the tensed, pulsating vein on his temple.

“It’s time that we follow our relatives to the city and take up some other job that will be much more rewarding. This farming business will drive us crazy. Our debts are also increasing day by day.” Malati exclaims, holding him in her gaze, and placing her hand on his shoulder

Vikram keeps quiet, unmoving, eyes closed as if cogitating over the recent catastrophe. He recalls the story of King Bruce of Scotland that his father would narrate to him when he was a child Whenever Vikram accompanied his father to the field, he would tell this tale. King Bruce relentlessly fought to get back his lost kingdom but was defeated at every single attempt he made. Finally, being heartbroken, he decided to give up, and went into hiding Inside a cave, he saw a spider, who in an endeavor to weave a web, slipped down over and over again as it kept struggling, but with persistent efforts, it finally succeeded in spinning its silken web. This motivated King Bruce to battle with renewed vigor against his enemies despite overwhelming odds and succeeded in reviving his kingdom

After some time, Vikram visits his farm in the amber mid-morning where the harvest-ready wheat grains

have attracted the rodents to his property. He, along with other farmers, has used pesticides and sealed rat holes with soil but all their efforts ceased to get any reprieve From a distance, he could see their acts of devastation, as if the farmland had been hit by an invisible gale. Only a few hours ago, he had witnessed the golden ears of wheat swaying happily like ocean waves in the cool breeze Now, the entire field has sunk into an ever worst state of dereliction, like one untended by negligent farm owners, forgotten stretches of land where wilderness has birthed and expired without any notice chopped plants, irregular cuttings of stems, spots of depressions in the field, chewed ripening grains strewn here and there, tillers slashed near the base seen in patches, earheads slit and appearing, most probably, near their burrows. Approaching nearer to the field, he finds dark brown/black rat droppings in several places He stifles an uncontrollable wish to cry, and, for a moment, mutely faces the desolate farmland, completely wiped out with grief, as dumb as a statue.

After a while, as he plods his way toward the Panchayat office where Anil and other villagers have assembled, he feels careworn, ashy, eyes shrunk and as hot as a glowing ember with an emotional volcano constantly erupting inside him

Along with other villagers, he finds the Sarpanch presiding over the meeting as their immediate concern needs to be addressed.

“Biku has to be punished for negligence, but before that, we have to decide what we’ll do with the rat who has wreaked havoc on our field, especially yours, Vikram.” The Sarpanch shifts his eyes on Vikram, measuring him from head to toe.

Vikram notices a small cage kept at one side of the gathering Inside it is an agitated brownish-black rat raddled, eyes bulging, tip of its snout twitching, appearing more ruined than ruinous. He feels sorry for it Biku is standing on one side, beside the cage, with his head lowered, constantly digging a hole in the ground with his toe

“We’ll kill the rat.” All villagers cry in unison.

“I think we ought to show mercy ” Vikram says while clearing his throat, feeling a loss of interest in

the ongoing show.

“No, no, no mercy ” Some of the villagers shout repeatedly

“Your wife says that you are planning to go to the city?” queries Sarpanch.

“No, it’s just a passing thought Neither I nor the rat are going anywhere ” Vikram says with conviction, eyes gleaming, ruling out the possibilities of negotiations and persuasions. “Just as I am doing my duty irrespective of the outside factors that are conspiring against ruining my harvest, the rat is also doing its dharma (way of life) ” He continues sagely to reinforce his point, stroking his chin.

“I don’t understand.” The Sarpanch peers at him through his thick glasses, stupefied

“As a farmer, my job is to continue growing food grains on my field. The whole country is waiting for the produce that will be transferred onto the shelves of markets We can’t disappoint them by giving up I have failed several times before while trying to provide for the people of my country But I will keep on trying, whether I succeed or fail due to the factors that are not in my control.” Vikram turns around to leave

Everyone stares at him in absolute silence

“Yes, I have another request Please leave the rat unhurt ” Vikram says, as he marches slowly away past a row of bewildered onlookers His eyes shine and a smile appears on his lips, as he brushes off at least temporarily the rat episode to be a terrible nightmare, a matter of the past that has withered into nothingness His features hold in concentration, as he is drawn back to his early days of farming experience, his mind already engrossed in calculating the requisite steps for cultivating the next crop what he believes to be from the very beginning

Sreelekha Chatterjee’s short stories have been published in various national, and international magazines and journals like Indian Periodical, Femina, Indian Short Fiction, eFiction India, The Criterion, The Literary Voyage, World of Words, Writer’s Ezine, and Estuary, and have been included in numerous print and online anthologies such as Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul series (Westland Ltd, India), Wisdom of Our Mothers (Familia Books, USA), and several others. She lives in New Delhi, India.

You can connect with her on Facebook at facebook com/sreelekha chatterjee 1/,

Twitter -@sreelekha001, and Instagram @sreelekha2023.