The party -- Translation of a Ramachandra Sharma's Kannada short story

Sahitya Akademi The Party Author(s): Ramachandra Sharma Source: Indian Literature, Vol. 38, No. 4 (168), Kannada Short Story Today (July - Aug. 1995), pp . 19-24 Published by: Sahitya Akademi Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/23335595 Accessed: 20-07-2015 03:25 UTC

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TheParty Ramachandra

Sharma

HE light that flooded the half-acre garden in front of the bungalow was so dazzling that the skink which scurried through the grass blades turned into a snake-bodied flash of lightning. The workers of Board had toiled all day—though it was a Sun Jalandhar Electricity into convert their had not Sitaram, chief, day—to night day, though A

asked

for any help. The night beyond the garden, though under a full moon, looked pitchblack. Coloured bulbs twinkled all along the distant fence like glow-worms and the spotlights on the trees focused on the table in the centre of the lawn.

Indeed,

the

some

bungalow,

ten

kilometers

away

from

the

town

and

its bustle, was a haven of peace but with no hope of a response if a cry for help went out. Sitaram's immediate neighbour was Kedar Singh, D.G.P., and his residence was a furlong away. Lalithamma Jalandhar's was

anxious

naturally

when

lives they led in Madhya decided

that

men

all

moved

they

Pradesh

over

the

in.

She

recalled

before Sitaram

world

were

the

the

contented

opted for this job and

same,

utterly

self-centred,

for ever thinking of their careers and promotions, with no thought for their wives' needs. She was distressed that her husband had come to Jalandhar though the disturbed state of Punjab and Haryana was com mon

knowledge.

There

were

from nowhere

reports

every

morning

of

terrorists

to massacre the innocents. She lost her initial thanks to the presence of a couple of armed Sikh

materialising anxiety as time passed, constables at the gate. She had won them over by personally supervising the supply of food and beverages.

She had landed a job in Jalandhar not long after they moved in and that had left her little time to nurse her anxiety. She warmed up to Kedar Singh's wife when it was discovered

over an evening's drinks that Kedar Singh and Sitaram had attended the same college in Delhi ... The headlines which screamed from the front pages of newspapers about death and mutilation had taken to mere sighing and Lalithamma's eyes would skip the details to linger over the

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juicy bits about the latest scandals surrounding either the Chief Minister of the state or the Ministers at the centre.

She had every reason for her excitement that evening.

It was the thirteenth birthday of their only child, Kusuma, who attended the convent

school in Jalandhar where was known to be clever and girl classmates and that had pleased her. It had occasionally felt twinges of jealousy girl was to her father. She wasn't unduly The

she herself

taught English. her quite popular among of true that she course, was, as she noticed how close the

worked up about it knowing that it was only a passing phase. Her study of English Literature at of Freud the Central and her knowledge and the Greek college had convinced her that it was only natural that a girl, while Tragedies to grow up, idolizes her father who stands before her like a of all authority. She had consoled herself giant, the very embodiment once she grew up, would come close to the that the same saying girl mother. The very process of tempering of both body and mind that to the mother, went with growing up would ensure such a closeness waiting

form of the ultimate in love. She had succeeded in the manifested her in which was as dear to herself gardening, interesting daughter tenant must have left the place a year as literature. The previous was more a forest than a garden.

It had taken both effort ago—it lawn time to level the area, trim the fence, lay the carpet-like favourite flower and her ixora, plants, geranium, jasmine grow roses. The summer vacation had started when they moved in and and and she

had

had

to wait

commenced

before

Kusuma

started

her

no

had

for

a few

weeks

she got the job. inching

towards

even

after

There her

new

the

were

mother

term

obvious

and

that

in school

signs had

that

pleased

end.

She remembered being upset by an incident which took place soon after the flowers had started smiling and wondered why she had to think of it at this festive hour. She shook her head to drive the

memories

away

but

they

swarmed

over

her

face

like

a couple

of

flies ... She had stretched

herself after lunch in the bedroom persistent with a Kannada novel in hand. She had registered, but only vaguely, the voices of beyond the garden but boys talking somewhere sope the novel had not got up to investigate.

She had dozed off—perhaps was uninteresting.

It was a disturbed sleep with intriguing dreams

of logic. A river in full flow, its to earth's brown; Kusuma, changing out a scream as she was sucked on her back, letting happily floating drained out leaving a vast in by the swirling water; water suddenly and Kusuma on her behind back, sobbing, looking like a plain lying which water

20

challenged

INDIAN

the basic

colour

LITERATURE

tenets

from blood-red

: 168

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in the womb's waters ... While which had lost its place and qualitative Lalithamma, knowing that there was a fundamental difference between dreams of the night and those of the noon, was still trying to make some sense of the images she had seen, when she was startled awake by a sound. She shot up and rushed to the window as the noise reminded her of the soft swishing noise of meat being foetus

her poem, was being of the flower plants along the edges of the fence were in tatters and the perfectly levelled lawn had a few gashing wounds to show. She closed her eyes and shook her head, not wanting to see the damage, not wanting to believe what her eyes would see. A goat bleated as she threw the front door open and raced to the gate. There was a group of shepherd-boys Her broken Punjabi gave way as she sitting in front of the bungalow. and she was confused when she realized that she had unwit raged into Kannada.

She took hold of herself and calmly tingly lapsed chopped devoured

in a butcher's shop. Her dream-garden, by a flock of sheep and goats. Most

the boys in Hindi though underneath her even tone was questioned a volcano ready to erupt.

The boys didn't move or say anything. They lifted their faces to look at her once and then ignored her. They busied themselves raking with their sticks the sand in the centre of the circle they had formed

as they sat. Lalithamma felt lost for a second. Recovering herself, she chased the sheep and goats around till they ran out of the gate. Their heiter and skelter run had razed a few more of her flower plants.

Soon after, the boys had got up and disappeared with the animals. faces no on chin or with the the upper lip.

Young growth

Even as she stood there shocked, she must have seen the fence looking like a mouth which had lost a few of its front teeth and thought that it had been a wilful act.

Kusuma was heartbroken and Sitaram did his best to console her. A phone call had brought Kedar Singh and his wife. The men had huddled together drinking whisky and walked around the garden sobbed discussing strategies to protect the property while Lalithamma over the shoulders of Singh's wife.

A police constable had been posted the very next day to man the gate. He would stay on duty till Sitaram came home. Within a and there was a smile couple of months the garden had recovered on Lalithamma's in the sun.

face as the flowers flaunted

once again

their colours

There

had been no significant change in the Punjab situation. of violent Reports killings were routine and there was no new initiative from the government.

The anger in the hearts of the Sikhs after the RAMACHANDRA

SHARMA

21

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Blue

Star operation was a festering wound. In spite of the mounting evidence of late that Hindus were the targets of the militants, Lalithamma worried. and Sitaram weren't particularly They really seemed to believe that lightning is what strikes the neighbouring village, not their own.

A loving daughter who seemed to be drawing close, a husband and a friend like Kedar his colleagues loved and respected ... seemed to want more in life when ...

Lalithamma nothing Singh Was it the same gang of boys with their childlike faces? She didn't one night, three months after the previous inci know. It happened

whom

dent. Not at the dead of night but half an hour after the constable before going home. had come into the house to say goodnight had screamed as she the leaping flames from noticed Lalithamma the living room window.

Kusuma had come out of her room and Sitaram had dashed out of the bathroom.

The whole length of the

fence was on fire. Lalithamma had stopped out and rang the residence of Kedar Singh.

from rushing the time the D.G.P. By

who

Jalandhar

wasn't

at

home

that

from

came

evening

Sitaram

with

a posse

of policemen, the fence had been reduced to ashes. So were saplings and the leaves on the tall trees had turned black.

a few

Was it an accident or was it arson? As the matter was being hotly one of the men who had fanned out in different directions debated, came back with an empty tin of kerosene.

Kedar Singh was among those that didn't attach much significance to the find and so no further

the

was

investigation of

replacement Reserve The

the

who

Police

turned

fence

....

undertaken constable

hapless

would

by

man once

green

The

only

a couple

the

place

again

but

was

change

of armed round

there

the was

men

the from

clock. no

answer

to

Had there been a sprout of hair, Lalithamma's nagging question: however thin, on the innocent faces of the shepherd-boys during the three

months

between

the

two

incidents?, ★

★

★

for Kusuma's The party was in full swing. As it was unthinkable friends to come to the party on their own, the invitation had included the parents too. Ten out of the dozen girls who had been asked had to say that they were waiting come and the other two had phoned for their fathers to return from work. The presents laid out on the centre table dazzled gin and lime cordial the

men's

22

arguments.

INDIAN

under the bright lights. Some of the ladies had and their giggles were loud enough to smother Kusuma

LITERATURE

and

her

friends

were

dancing

: 168

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away

on the floor of the living room in sweet abandon pop songs from the tape recorder.

to the beat of the

bearer gener Kedar Singh must have winked his consent—the the security guards with rum, not in glasses but in ously supplied stainless tumblers. The world outside the gate was forgotten as they on the garden. Their guns turned their attention to the happenings wobbled like walking sticks in the hands of old men out on their

morning walk.

Some of the guests from Jalandhar had left and the girls had come out into the garden. like cigarette smoke into rose Laughter the night air to dissipate It

was

at

that

moment

itself.

that...

There was a burst as if a string of crackers had been set alight.

It took a few seconds before the sound passed through the alcoholic haze which hovered over the place and registered itself in the minds of those present. It was only when one of Kusuma's friends screamed

and fell in a heap on the lawn, that one realized that it wasn't a cracker that had burst. A bullet had only grazed the girl's arm but the blood which flowed out the flesh wound looked unusually red on

the

green

green

grass.

One

can only imagine the confusion of the next hour. An ambu lance raced in, its bells ringing, accompanied by a couple of police from which armed men out even before they had stop jeeps jumped The screams of the rent the air as their parents vainly tried ped. girls to comfort them. Nobody paid any attention to the twelve-year old of the gardener who said that she had distinctly heard a daughter few boys guffawing from the wheat field beyond seconds after the shots. Lalithamma went into the house with her daughter not wanting either

to

confirm

or

contradict

everyone's

conviction

that

handiwork of the Khalistanis.

She sat on the bed holding tight as the girl shook uncontrollably.

it was

the

her daughter

Memories of the previous two incidents rushed into her and her black. She pressed them with her hands as she felt that started frantically going round the room looking for the the fear within her. herself to sleep and Lalithamma girl had sobbed gently eased her body on to the bed. When she switched on the bedlight, closed the door and came out, there was no one in the living room.

The guests had quietly left after mumbling their distress at the turn eyes went they had source of The

of events

that evening.

Kedar Singh was in the garden conferring with some of his officers. Sitaram, who stood for a while on the fringe of the group, must have felt that his presence there was not necessary.

RAMACHANDRA

SHARMA

23

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Or, he might have felt like going in to comfort his wife and daughter.

He found his wife standing all alone in the living room like an

He threw his arms round her shoulders in a protective ges orphan. ture and led her to a settee. He sat down beside her and said nothing as he knew that her grief was beyond tears. It was a grief which had its source in her fear of not being able to comprehend what was happening

around

her.

that his wife loved music, he switched Remembering A girl's voice, plaintive like veena strings when plucked was singing a popular song.

on the radio. under

water

in your eyes Why is there this sparkle has trampled on my dreams? when an elephant And this smile on your handsome face when

Lalithamma

tear-stains

have

dried

on my cheeks?

to let herself go and cry, when there was and they had looked up. opening Kusuma stood there, face drained of all colour, her eyes opened wide in terror, trembling as if it was a freezing December night. to her.

Lalithamma rushed the sound

The patches

here and there with girl's green party frock was patterned of blood, reminding one of her friend who had been shot. â–Ą

Translated

24

was about

of a door

by the fiuthor

INDIAN

LITERATURE

: 168

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