The Rivals

(Short story)

PALAGUMMI PADMARAJU
(Translated from the original in Telugu by Dr. D. Anjaneyulu)

The Godavari was in spate. The turbid waters, swirling in smoke-like rings, were terrifying even to the bravest. Washermen, however, are undaunted; they swim into midstream to salvage trees and branches and bring them to the bank. By day-break they enter the river. By sundown, the bank is full of twigs and sticks.

While the men dare into the midstream, the womenfolk, from the side-lines, try to pull the wood-pieces afloat with the aid of hooked poles. The Godavari was quite astir during those times. While the swollen river uproots whole forests and takes them along its current, men try to obstruct it and collect all those pieces on the bank. Man thus retains his mastery over nature.

Collecting them thus requires a lot of skill, not merely strength. When you catch hold of a tree in midstream, you can't control it, unless you let yourself be controlled by the stream. There is a challenge in this art, which is a yardstick of the washermen’s skill. It is not only the greed for firewood that goads them on, but honour in the game. The winner here is a hero. So, they risk their lives even against the whirlpools.

Rami is a notoriously tough girl. A tiff on everything with everyone comes naturally to her. Under the twilight of dawn, she sets out for the riverside, with a hooked pole. Which means that none can approach that part of the river for the day. If any one dares, well, it is but an invitation to a quarrel. For she has a sharp tongue. Twice or thrice, the police tried to threaten her, but they gave up, when she exploded as was her wont. She would, of course grant that she didn’t own the river or the trees. But, no lawyer was able to convince her of the right of other people to encroach on an area which she was the first to occupy. What ever be the question of right and wrong, more people were scared of her tongue; and no woman dared to approach her part of the riverside.

Venkadu is quite a jolly fellow. He can easily pick up a quarrel. He is the hot favourite of all the grown-up girls in the dhobi hamlet. He is a hero in their eyes. There has been some enmity between his father and Rami’s for a long time now. Venkadu’s father had even set fire to Rami’s house once. The mere sight of Venkadu was enough for Rami to start cursing him. But he never bothered himself too much about it, because of his innate chivalry. All the girls however, were allergic to Rami, whom they called a “tomboy.”

Venkadu came to know that Rami had been scaring away all the womenfolk from the riverside. One day he went there to see the situation for himself. Rami was busy collecting the twigs. Two or three women were standing by on the bank eyeing her enviously. Venkadu took a hooked pole into his hands.

Rami, at once, flared up: “You scamp! Come to compete with a woman?”
Venkadu: You ... a woman? Not that I know of...Watch your words, or else, you and your hook will be in midstream.
Rami: Why have you come to a place which I had occupied first? No shame?
Venkadu: Is the riverside your father’s property?
Rami: I came first.
Venkadu: I came next.
Rami: Impudent rascal...crossing swords with a woman...
Venkadu: If you promise to be just and quiet. I shall leave.
Rami: Quiet, my foot! I will pick up all my twigs.
Venkadu: O. K.! Those beyond your reach ... let me take.
Rami: Beyond my reach, only in midstream!

Venkadu wouldn’t admit defeat by leaving the place. He threw his raft on the bank and began to pull at the twigs with the hook.

Venkadu was at a loss to find out how to subdue her. All the other girls of her age would readily succumb to his wink. She alone seemed defiant. Despite the family feud, he never openly offended her. Nor any others, for that matter. But he must now subdue her, somehow.

It was Rami who surpassed Venkadu in collecting twigs from the bank. He watched her skill and grace in the act. Half of the sticks that touched his hook slipped away into the stream. Any stick that touched hers was sure to reach the bank. However much he tried, many of them escaped his grasp. It never struck him that so many of them could be collected from the bank. He sat there in amazed admiration of her expertness.

That day, the Godavari was very fierce. Dark clouds enveloped the sky on all the sides. Slight drizzle, with strong winds. Many of the washermen were afraid to get into the river, that day.

Venkadu, however, chose to enter the river, with the raft under his chest. He didn’t feel like sitting on the bank, competing with a woman. He dared to enter, because few others were ready to do it. Some followed him. He was pushing all his sticks to Rami’s side. And she was catching hold of them with determi­nation. By the afternoon, all the others had left; and Rami and Venkadu were left alone. Though he was very tired, Venkadu did not want to leave, before Rami.

It was getting dark, the drizzles heavier, the winds stronger.
“How much longer will you stay?”
“How much longer will you stay?”

Venkadu was about to enter the water again. Rami stood gracefully on the stones on the bank, pulling at the twigs.

“Be careful! You might slip into the waters!”
“Take care of yourself; you needn’t pull me out, if I slip in.”
“Brave talk, if you were to slip in, I alone will have to pull you out.”

As a big tree floated ahead, Venkadu swam in towards it.

The tree was very heavy and he was very tired. He wouldn’t have jumped in, but for the rivalry with Rami. He somehow got hold of the tree and was slowly moving towards the bank. He looked up towards the bank, it was all dark. Struggling slowly, he could see it faintly.
Up to her waist in the water, Rami was trying hard to hook a heavy branch.
“It’s pretty difficult, leave it alone”, he shouted at her.
“You better look after your own tree”, she retorted.

What is she to him? The obstinate wretch–doesn’t she know? She gets in deeper, only to die. But he couldn’t help looking towards the bank. Rami staggered once, and steadied herself. Venkadu suppressed a shout, and trying not to look that side, was swimming towards the bank.

Meanwhile, there was a sound of something slipping down. His heart sank and his hands left the tree. He looked up; and Rami wasn’t there.

He swam towards the bank, as fast as he could. Ten yards downstream he could see a head swirling. He lifted Rami up with one hand. She clung to his neck with both her hands. Both of them sank; but he freed himself with difficulty and was able to float and breathe. Rami became unconscious. He slowly placed her neck on his and steadied himself with the other hand. The current then pushed them both away from the bank. He was wondering if he could reach the bank. His hands were becoming unsure and his breath unsteady. Eyes shut, he was dragging the two bodies towards the bank. It was like an age by the time his hand felt the bank, where it was sharply cut by the stream. With a great effort he raised his hand and placed it on the bank. A lump of earth gave away and both of them sank again. He was about to pass out. Somehow, slowly he carried both the bodies to the bank. He lay supine for a time to regain his breath.

Rami’s body stirred. There was a faint moan. He got up and turned her this way and that. In her sub-conscious state she held his hand in both hers. In that touch of hers she seemed to say a lot and he seemed to understand it all.

Lifting Rami to his shoulders, Venkadu set out for the washerman’s hamlet.

Strange to think! She obviously realised that he had rescued her. He had said that in so many words. And now, it has come to pass.

He had a rivalry with her. How did it arise? Why did he hate her all these days? If she was arrogant, why should he bother? He was bent upon subduing her, but failed. That was the cause of his chagrin. No girl was a match to her in catching twigs. She was a true girl. A trifle stubborn, of course; so what? Is he not stubborn, himself?

She slipped into the water, and he rescued her. He never did such a noble deed before. This time, she was subdued by him somehow. He thought that he had a moral right over her body, which he had saved after a struggle. He felt he had conquered her.

He saw in her a grace, a smoothness and a softness that could be found in no other girl in the world.

When she came to somewhat, she pressed his hand in both hers. There were many things in that touch – gratitude for saving her, admission of defeat in the wager...

Gently putting her down, Venkadu called out to her parents.

A large crowd gathered around them. Rami’s mother began to beat her breast, crying hysterically. Her father collapsed to the floor, dumbfounded.

The caste elders present were trying to revive her – some pressing the water out, others warming her by a slow fire.

Rami’s mother began to wail aloud, “The son of a bitch has killed my darling daughter!”

Venkadu was not hearing this wail. His tired eyes were on Rami.

As Rami stirred a little, opening her eyes half-way, Venkadu approached her. He alone was able to see the warmth in her pain ­distorted looks. His heart missed a beat.

These looks only confirmed the suspicion of Rami’s mother. She began to cry louder: “The son of a bitch! He’s killed my darling, when no one is around!”

Venkadu stood aghast. Was this the reward for all his labours?

Rami began to breathe hard. Her father remembered all the old scores with Venkadu.

“I’ll fix you; I’ll call the police,” he said, leaving the place in a huff.

Had he been more tired, Venkadu would have been drowned in the Godavari, along with Rami. He had rescued her, after a great struggle, but to no effect, it seemed. Only the suspicion of a crime remained.          

The whole world appeared wicked to Venkadu, in which he and Rami seemed out of place.