Manikyam

Manikayam

BY R. VENKATA SIVADU, M.A., L.T., Rajahmundry

(Rendered from his own original Telugu story)

Let the world entertain the strangest opinions about me. I am indifferent alike to their praise and blame. They know not all about me. So they misjudge me!

Why does the aroma of the tender mango in the spring bring tears to my eye? Boys in the street exclaim: “What a shy youth this Manohar is! He is afraid of the sight of jasmine buds!” To elderly people my single state is an enigma. They look upon my austerities as a meaningless formality. They are welcome to their opinions. Gentle reader, let me take you into my confidence and acquaint you with an incident in my early youth which may enable you to form the right opinion about me.

I

In my young days I took a solemn vow not to entertain thoughts of marriage till I completed my studies and entered a profession. Somehow I passed my exam and took up service. Then, accompanied by a friend, I started on the quest of a personal inspection of prospective brides. Days in that year’s summer were particularly hot. As a result of these forced marches and irregular meals, our health was impaired. At last late one morning we plodded our weary way to a Village. It was a mere hamlet. We felt dead tired. The Villagers showed us a house to lodge in. It was as much as we could do to dismount from the cart and drag ourselves along into the house

It was a thatched house, but seemed to have been designed by men who had ideas of comfort and convenience. There was nobody at home. The owner of the house had gone out on some professional business. There was no trace even of women. During our journey, my friend was invariably in charge of the commissariat. He now surveyed the house at close quarters and exclaimed: “My friend, today we are destined to fast!” He fretted and fumed and with a wry face squatted down on the mat I occupied.

By and by, a girl returned from the village tank with a water-pot on her shoulder. I would have addressed a few words to any elderly person accompanying her, but there was none such. Though it was but 10 o’clock in the morning, the sun shone with terrific heat as at mid-day. Both of us were a prey to extreme hunger, my friend was hardly able to speak; I was equally helpless. Distress stands not on ceremonies. Casting aside diffidence, I said, “Madam, we are hunger-stricken travelers, Pity you are alone in the house! It is cruel to ask you to play the hostess to us. We shall cook for ourselves if you will kindly provide some rice and a vessel. So spoke I words of formal etiquette, but, as a matter of fact, we were unable even to move a little finger!

Overcoming her bashfulness, the girl replied, “Sir, why do you trouble yourself? Food is getting ready and father is expected in a minute, you may all dine together.”

These words were nectar to our ears. The maiden who, unasked, was preparing our food appeared the goddess of Hospitality. Unable to speak words of thankfulness and concealing tears of joy, I slid down on to the mat. My friend and I were soon sunk in deep slumber.

“It is very late. Please bathe and get ready for food.” These words emanating from a masculine throat fell on my ears two or three times before I woke up. “I have found fault with my daughter for not having served you food already, Get up please,” so saying the master of the house led us into the dining hall.

I do not vividly remember the story of our first meal in that house. The words of the host at the dinner were but faintly heard by us. W e ate our food, nodding in sleep. Though the stimulus of food in the stomach enabled us partly to overcome sleep, still immediately after breakfast, we applied ourselves again to bed. We woke not till evening twilight. We rose and looked round; the master of the house was engaged in some house-hold work, while his good daughter was busy with preparations for a night-meal.

By supper-time, our drowsiness cleared off. Till then, mine host had not asked of us any questions. Nor do we remember any such queries if ever they were put. He appeared to be a person of a benevolent disposition notwithstanding adverse family conditions. We felt distressed to hear that the recent calamity of his wife’s demise made him an utter dependent on his tender-aged daughter. When he apologised that he had forgotten to ask us about our business, my friend Ramanatham gave him a brief account of our journey. Said he in conclusion, “Thus sir, we are quite spent up in these matrimonial trips of my friend, Manohar. Always there is some hitch. He frets that beauty does not go along with education nor music with good looks. Goodness knows about his marriage but it goes ill if I do not reach home soon! Such was Ramanatham’s determination.

Ramanatham was a well-meaning young man of a quiet disposition. He would not do things hastily, nor would he excuse precipitate action on the part of others. Before retiring to bed that night we had some little conversation between ourselves. “Manohar, this obstinacy of yours in matters matrimonial will not do. Even traversing whole continents at this rate will bring us no nearer the girl of your choice!” so spoke out my jaded friend.

The next morning, I was startled from my bed by his voice. My limbs were heavy. My eyes were burning. As soon as the sounds of the wheels of his cart were audible, he appeared near my bed. “Manohar,’ I come to bid adieu. You should not travel in this state of health. But it is not proper that we should both stay in a stranger’s house. Permit me to go. Start as soon as you get better.” To this I replied, “Yes, but what of our errand?” My friend, who was impatiently entering the cart just then, remarked, “It does not matter much. Make up your mind and your marriage will soon be an accomplished fact! So saying, he left me.

The whole of that day, high fever troubled me. With the rising sun, rose the temperature of my body. My limbs ached with a racking pain. I felt sorry that my only companion had left me. My suffering grew in intensity as night wore on. Whenever I opened my eyes, the figure of the host soothing my limbs, and that of his daughter helping me to some drink were visible like hazy forms in dreamland!

II

Though that fever raged but a single day and night, I was utterly prostrated. In the first place, I lost all appetite for food. If I left bed and took but a couple of steps, my eyes reeled. In that predicament my sole refuge was the master of the house. His goodness beggars all description. He was not at all vexed that a stranger had intruded himself upon his hospitality and remained a guest for days together. On the other hand, he patently administered medicine and spoke cheering words like a guardian angle. His only regret was that the services he rendered were not more!

But what about his daughter? She was an incarnation of the side of his nature. It is rare to find such virtue in combination such discretion at so tender an age. She would ungrudgingly accomplish her household tasks with the half-skill she had attained. Many were tireless devices she employed in the preparation of dainties and chutneys to stimulate my deadened palate and re-establish there a taste for food. It is due to the gentle services of that kind-hearted maiden that I soon rallied and picked up strength. Then it was that I realised the significance of the truth that the mother is latent in the girl. Manikyam was a real gem.

One afternoon, lying on my bed, I began a long review of my own circumstances. “How mysterious are the workings of Destiny! I started on a particular errand with a friend, but illness soon found me a guest in the house of strangers. Now this village has become my sweet home, and the inmates of this house my longstanding friends! What an irony that these fasts and feasts have utterly drowned all thought of matrimony in me!”

But when new blood began to course in my veins, old thoughts revolved in my mind with their wonted rapidity. I would ponder over Ramanatham’s parting words: “If there is the least truth in them, God has yet to create a bride for me! Otherwise, I must wed a girl full of frailties and foibles–” Thus as thoughts of marriage revived in me, my mind fell a prey to an endless tangle of harassing thoughts leaving me exhausted! I would then exert myself to divert my attention from this painful theme.

As in those days my mind had no serious engagement, I spent my time in the contemplation of my surroundings. In this vast stage of the world, my eyes beheld but two actors: they are Manikyam and her father. The survey of the character of father and daughter constituted my chief theme and pastime. The amiable qualities of the parent shone with redoubled brilliance in the child, though the physical attractions of the latter were not half so much in evidence in the former. Her elegance was not of the kind which dazzles the eye instantaneously–young men and easily mistaken in the appreciation of this type of beauty. The full extent of her charms was percei1tible only to those who beheld the twinkling eyes radiating the beauty of her intellect. Moreover, her beauty manifested itself in every spoken word. Her sweet voice was but an echo of pure and generous heart. Her honeyed words were calculated to charm away all ills of body and mind! Her little snatches of work amidst song and play were more neat and elegant than the elaborately performed tasks of elderly ladies. Should there be any defects in the former the very defects lent new charm to them!

I would curiously observe the little sports and pastimes of village girl. Though obliged to do all domestic work single-handed, she would not always get stuck up in it, but would snatch intervals of rest. The afternoon hours were her holiday time. Then would she go visiting and receive visits from girl-friends in the neighbourhood. The ornaments of these girls in the sport were the jasmine buds in the garden and the red lilies of the tank! These constituted Manikyam’s jewels even afterwards, adding a fresh charm to her beauty.

My observation of Manikyam’s movements reminded me afresh of the topic of marriage which it had been my endeavour to forget. But this time I realised fully the truth of Ramanatham’s words. The doubts which had harassed me hitherto now vanished. “If I prefer the married state, there is only one girl in the wide world whom I must needs choose. If I secure her, I secure life’s happiness. If otherwise, I must bid adieu to married life.” This was my firm resolution!

Need the reader be told who that girl is?

III

The sequel is easily told. I hinted my resolve to Manikyam’s father. Though at first overcome with astonishment, he considered deeply and gave his consent. Manikyam, who apparently caught the hint from her father, made herself scarce thenceforward. In a day or two, I returned home.

I was soon immersed in the daily round of professional duties at the town. Thus weeks and months flitted away. I had no opportunity to think often of Manikyam, or to enquire after the welfare of father and daughter. One day I received a letter which ran thus:

Kalavalur

Dear Manohar,

You must have been in receipt of my last letter, So you too have turned hostile like Fate! Or else, you would have been here already. Briefly Manikyam is in her last moments. She, however, seems reluctant to take her departure from this world without having a last look at you. I beg of you to come over here speedily. This is my sole wish.
“Venkateswar.”

Though I read this letter twice over, I could not make out its meaning. I protested the letter was not mine, but the messenger was emphatic that it was for me. I wondered what in the world was the relationship between me and these blessed folk of Kalavalur! But one or hints dropped by him instantaneously revived forgotten memories. This letter, then, was about my own dear Manikyam! The writer was her own father. The missing of the previous letter must have been the work of the inmates of my house. How stupid their action is! Else, I would have seen my Manikyam long ago. Fearing further delay, I got into a swift conveyance and soon reached the destination. The red lily, the pride of the village tank, appeared withered on its stalk. No smiles of the people in the street greeted me!

With lightning speed I entered the house. Not heeding the words of the people who said that it was all too late, I was soon at the bed-stead of the patient. Her father, who was administering to her the last drops of water with basil leaves, noticed my advent with a moistened eye. Manikyam, in whom life was flickering, opened her eyes wide and stared at me. Though the body was all but consumed by poisonous fever, the eyes shone bright in all their natural lustre–tears were now flowing down copiously from those eyes, like dew-drops from the petals of the morning blue lily. With her right hand which she had lifted with effort she beckoned to me. I went nearer and touched the hand which was fast getting cold. Slowly she lifted up the palm of my hand to her lips and imprinted thereon a faint kiss. Her head fell . “Dear Manikyam, I have come. Do not fear.” So strove I to put in a word of comfort. As if to acknowledge this the patient attempted a nod but her eyes dilated in a wild gaze. Life was extinct from those orbs.

Little else remains for me to tell. My darling Manikyam is gone! Marriage has now no interest for me. My relations with womankind are at an end. All those objects of nature which resemble her beautiful limbs and which remind me of her, give me excruciating pain. The sight of the blue lily brings tears into eyes. The jasmine buds which graced the braid of her tresses are poison to me. The sweet odours of the tender mango with which she restored my appetite blast my heart!

Though it is a long time since she took her departure I still feel the heat of the funeral pyre which consumed her body! Sometimes, the world appears like hell to me. At such times, I feel tempted to think of giving up my profession and take to a wandering life. But realising soon that the quintessence of life consists in the control of sorrow, I divert m thoughts and seek to subdue the mind by the reins of duty. But no effort of mine is able to wean my heart from the memory of Manikyam. M friends have, tried to laugh it away as mere sentiment, and teach me asceticism, but to me Manikyam is a living Reality. Relations have prescribed marriage as an antidote to my obsession. But the maiden who inspired pure love in me, but who was mightily disappointed in the realisation of conjugal happiness with me here below since her own life was cut short by cruel Fate,–I cannot bring myself to break off my sacred relation with my beloved one and take to another.