Narayan Bhai

(SHORT STORY)

By JOGESH DAS
(Rendered from the Assamese by the Author)

Narayan came out of jail after six months. His father and mother treated him with love as before; they did not turn their faces away as from a thief or dacoit. That day it was quite a sensation in the tea garden. Narayan’s father bought a chicken on credit. His mother had kept a pitcher of rice-beer ready. During his six months’ stay in jail he regularly got letters from his father, once a week. His parents loved him so.

Six months before, they had man-handled ‘Burra Sahib’, that is, the garden manager. There was a clash between the ‘Burra Sahib’ and the Labour Union over the hoeing rate. The Sahib spoke of law and the Union did not want to obey law. The Sahib, burning with anger, called the workers names and threatened that he would “dismiss the tall-talking coolies”. But the Labour Union was adamant–they were prepared to fight for the good of the coolies. Narayan, on behalf of the Union, called at the manager’s office to lay before him the Union resolutions. The manager dismissed him from his factory job, then and there. That very day the labourers assaulted the Sahib when he was out on field work. The police came and arrested six labourers, Narayan among them: he was the Secretary of the Labour Union. Each of them was sentenced to six months’ imprisonment.

Now, after six months Narayan sat down for lunch in his own home with his father. They were having chicken fry and drink. The curious children of the ‘coolie-line’ collected round him to see what the jailed one looked like. He told them he did not go to jail like an ordinary thief, but like Gandhi Maharaj, fighting for a good cause; even in Vilayat (England) there were people jailed like that. The children looked at Narayan, so well known to them, smiling all along and they were amazed. Well, he was not sad or depressed as a thief would be. Was Gandhi Maharaj like that too? Who could tell?

Narayan took all the tidings of the garden as he sipped his drink. The ‘Burra Sahib’ had been transferred. The Labour Union was there with Riday Chowkidar still as its President and Mohan the Dakwalla as the new Secretary. Barbarua came from the Circle Office as before to decide this case or that. And Narayan had lost his factory Job for good. That naughty girl of their Line, Anjana, had a little son now. The rumour was that the boy was from the Godown Babu. Anjana was now living in Line Number Seven with Bibhishan, that madcap of a man for a harmonium. Ramlal the drunkard one day beat his wife to death and was now in jail. Saraswati had been given in marriage; Lal Sing was one day discovered dying while abed, poor dear old man. Bhagawan and Vishnu did not come to garden work. They learned mechanic’s work during war-time: Bhagawan now drove a contractor’s lorry and Vishnu worked in a motorcar repairing shop. There was no fish in the river this time; Narayan’s father could catch only a small ‘Boal’ in a whole night; Lal Sing’s little son caught rather a big tortoise with his rod.

Narayan’s father observed, “What trash they are giving with the ration! Mustard oil you can’t take. Rice is just rotten. We hear money will be paid instead of rice. That will be very hard, you can’t find rice in the bazar.” His mother added, “And the molasses is just soil.”

Narayan went to jail in the pruning season; now plucking was in full swing. This was the earning season; on a rainy day one could pluck up to twenty-seven seers of leaf, that is, earning twenty-seven annas in a single day.

There was yet another piece of information for Narayan: his mother whispered to him that Anjana’s sister Ranjana was still in the Line, unmarried. The Sahib’s bearer, Dubraj, was trying to marry her and negotiating with her parents. Of course Narayan’s parents had all along, been trying to dissuade the girl’s parents, because it was Narayan with whom Ranjana’s wedding had been settled. It would have been all over had he not been jailed. Now that he was home, Ranjana must be married to Narayan.

The next morning found Narayan in quite a new world. He would no longer stay in a narrow jail room, no more of sleeping on a dirty blanket. The sun had just risen, its long rays touching the earth. Men and women were coming out of the Line with baskets on their heads. The Sardars and Chowkidars were shouting at the top of their voices to rouse those who were still lying asleep.

Narayan brushed his teeth with a tea-stem and looked on the women, walking in a long row to their work. Ranjana was there among them; the huge basket on her head, and the smaller one inside it, and, perhaps, a pair of motor-tyre sandals inside the smaller basket. Her right hand was on the basket and the left swinging on the side. She wrapped herself with red and white cloths up to her knees, with another piece of cloth over her blouse of Japanese silk. A little bag of areca-nut tied to her fine waist was dancing as she walked. With a mouthful of unchewn areca nut, tolerably tall, a bit stout, tanned–that was what Ranjana was like.

New hopes and aspirations arose in his heart. This world was very beautiful. There were many things to enjoy. Bearer Dubraj to marry Ranjana! Why should Narayan allow that?

Circle Secretary Barbarua was right to say that the labourers were deprived of many good things which they were supposed to have enjoyed. The National Government was trying their utmost to better the condition of the labourers. That was very good. Narayan had roamed from garden to garden to help Barbarua organise meetings and form Unions. He had read up to the Third Class and so was made the Secretary of their Garden Union. He wanted to fight for his brethren’s uplift. That was why he was not sorry to go to jail, even though he was not in league with others in assaulting the Sahib. Today Ranjana kindled the fire of hope in him doubly.

After tea he went to the office. He would enquire if he would again be given a job. He could not remain an outsider and work in the Union; maybe he would be driven away, accused of being a Communist.

The other five who were jailed with him also were present in the office to look for work. As Narayan approached them the ‘Burra Sahib’ came out of the office. The oldest among them accosted him and, saluting, told him what they were after. The new ‘Burra Sahib’, unable to understand them, called for the head clerk for explanation. But after being apprised of the situation the manager then and there informed them in a curt tone that there was no work for people who were intent on assaulting Sahibs.

The manager drove off and the head clerk humorously–well, it was bitter humour–said, “Hello leaders, Sahib won’t give you work. You’ve turned Communist. If I beat you, surely you don’t give a morsel.”

They came out of the office, depressed.

Narayan went straight to Mohan Dakwalla, the Union Secretary: let him see what the Labour Union could do for him. Riday Chowkidar, the President, was also with Mohan. They were busy drafting some resolution. Narayan approached them and explained all his and his friends’ difficulties. But the Union office-bearers in return informed him that it was plucking season, time for the labourers to earn money. If some sort of disturbance were to follow, the labourers would be losing. They would certainly rebuke the Union. “And,” said President Riday Chowkidar, “nobody likes a fight. Even Gandhi Maharaj did not like violence.”

He was morbidly sorry. It was a great shock to him. Who knew he would be so ill-treated?–and ill-treated by those for whom he did not mind even to embrace jail-life too. Narayan decided to go to Barbarua. The Circle Secretary was sure to help him.

As he passed by the employers’ quarters, he thought of going to the Tea House Head Babu. This Babu was very fond of him. When Narayan was made the Union Secretary, the Babu called him to his quarters and told him of many necessary things and spoke of Gandhi, Nehru, and other big leaders.

The Babu’s children were playing in front of their house. As soon as he approached them they shouted, “Here’s Narayan, the Sahib-killer. Hei Narayan, jailed one!”

Oh God, it was disgusting. He turned homeward, miserable at heart. People all over were rebuking him, for no other reason than that he fought for them. But he was no thief, he was no hooligan. Then why were these people so harsh? Would Barbarua also do the same? No, Barbarua was not such. He was a good man, and kind-hearted too. He was his last hope.

He trod towards his Line, with a heavy heart. He saw Anjana and Ranjana. They were sitting to their meal on a narrow path-way among the tea bushes, not very far from the main road. Seeing him that naughty elder sister, restlessness itself, spoke aloud, “Hei, O Narayan Bhai, home? But when? Please come here, do please, and have a cup of tea!”

Well, his sad face had to beam with a smile. He went to them and sat down on Anjana’s umbrella. Ranjana was grave, now a bit graver still, Narayan being near. But the talkative Anjana went on chattering and chattering, asking all about him, about how he felt staying in the jail and so forth. He was greatly relieved of his sadness. He happily sipped the cup of tea.

Anjana said, “Well Narayan Bhai, now you must finish with the marriage. What do you say, Ranjana?” Her sister raised her hand to hit her and said, “you bitch.” Anjana burst out into a laughter. Ranjana got up and began to clean the cups and plates with a piece of cloth. She seemed to be vexed.

Anjana too cleaned up hers and said, “I have had a little kid, you must have heard, Narayan Bhai? That Godown Babu is very wicked.” What a shameless girl this Anjana is, he thought. “You remember our Bibhishan, Lord Rama’s follower? Ah, he can play the harmonium so nicely. He saved money for months to buy the instrument, breeding and selling poultry. Some day you will find my son a great musician.” No, the girl had no trace of shame left in her.

From another part of the plantation a boy, bearer of Anjana’s child, cried aloud, “The child is hungry, sister Anjana. You must come here.” Anjana picked up her bundle of utensils and the smaller basket and said, “Narayan Bhai, my kid is crying. I am also heavy with milk. I must go.” And she left.

Narayan turned to Ranjana. “Well Ranjana, you don’t speak to me?”

She could not resist a smile, but hurriedly turned away her face and tried to be grave.

He asked, “Did you hear that I was coming?”

Her reply was brief, “Heard today.”

“I must be a lucky fellow then, that you have heard of me.” She said nothing, even did not look at him. He said, “Got a pan with you?”

Ranjana gave him a pan, a little tobacco also with it. He began chewing the pan and then said, “I have heard, bearer Dubraj is talking to your parents about you.”

She kept mum, gazing at the ground. “Am I correct, Ranjana, or am I not?”

She forced herself to say, “I don’t know.” And she picked up her things and went away into the green tea bushes.

This was not at all encouraging for Narayan. He was again sad. Even Ranjana did not understand him. She seemed to pine for the bearer Dubraj. His hope was then to be shattered? And Ranjana was his last straw. He came out to the main road.

Anjana was plucking tea leaves under a huge tree, a bidiin her left hand and the right busy upon the leaves. She was all frivolity, cutting jokes with the overseer. When she saw Narayan, she stopped laughing and said, “Narayan Bhai, come to our line tonight, will you? There will be chicken curry, liquor and you will be listening to the harmonium.” Narayan forced a smile and went away. Ranjana was busy plucking two leaves and a bud, she seemed to be absorbed in her work.

In the afternoon he went to the Circle Office. All his hopes rested with Barbarua. He went into the office. A clerk who was typing in a corner asked him to sit. He enquired after Barbarua. Barbarua was out in a distant garden where there was a labour strike. Barbarua, a busy man, was gone as soon as he was informed of the strike. Narayan felt he was greatly relieved as he sat on a chair: here at least he was equal with others.

Barbarua came. His face was aglow–whether with heat or anger was not to be known. He went straight into his living-room through the door, without talking to anybody. The two men who came with him, perhaps some labour workers, sat down near Narayan.

A little later the Circle Secretary again came out into the office room and took his seat. He was still aglow. He now saw Narayan and asked, “What is the matter, Narayan?”

Narayan slowly narrated all that was the matter. But of a sudden Barbarua became incensed and roared at Narayan, “You know nothing but fighting and beating. Here assault a Sahib and there a babu and fight among yourselves. There in that garden some tea was stolen and the police on suspicion arrested the keeper. Now today the men have gone on a strike and surrounded the manager. This is what you are for. Be off, I can’t do anything for you.”

Narayan gently said, “I was not for assaulting the Sahib, Secretary. The Union fought and, as I was the Secretary, I was taken into custody with the others.”

But Barbarua was too heated to be cooled easily. He” said, “Why did you, the Secretary, allow them to assault a person! You’ll make me mad. You may go now.”

Narayan came out. At last Barbarua also had refused to help him. His jail-going was of no avail. Perhaps he would not be able to find for himself a morsel of food now. Nobody wanted him. Everybody was hating him: his co-workers, the Head-clerk, the babu’s children, Barbarua–to some extent–and Ranjana.

But why? He knew, and so did everybody, that he was not wrong. Then why? Big tears rolled down his cheeks.

When he reached the line it was already dusk. He went straight to Ranjana’s. He found the door locked from outside. Some one informed him, Ranjana and others were invited by Dubraj for supper.

He was desperate and made for the line where the bearer lived. The full moon was smiling in the clear sky, the earth beneath turning silvery. Ranjana was playing with a group of children under a neem tree. The children formed a circle, and Ranjana, sitting amidst them, was singing a song about water. A loud humming was heard, brought about by all living in the line; some were cooking, some drinking, some gambling, some fighting, and some reading.

Narayan went near the playful group and called out harshly, “Ranjana.”

The children stopped short. Ranjana too got frightened. But she was quick to recognise him and tried to take heart. “Yes,” she said.

He scared the children away. They were all amazed to see their dear Narayan in such a strange mood. They slipped silently into their respective houses. Ranjana knew well that she had to face such a situation. She wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. She prepared herself for the worst and waited for Narayan to come near her.

Narayan came and stood beside her. It was a bit dark beneath the neem tree. He asked, his voice still harsh, “All of you have come to the bearer’s house for the night’s meal, what are you at?”

She remained silent. “Then you have consented to marry him?” he asked again.

She murmured, “It is settled.”

“But it was settled with me also?”

“You had been  away these six months. And I don’t like to die of hunger for anybody’s sake.”

“Am I unable to support you? Or is it that the bearer has lured you with the dresses the Sahib threw at him?”

She did not answer.

He said, “I shall take you away forcibly.”

“I’ll drown myself.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he tried to speak again. But no, he had nothing to say. He caught her tightly by the shoulder, turned her about and, pushing her forward, said, “Go away!”

Ranjana looked at him astonished from the spot to which she was pushed. Then she slowly went away. He looked on at the moving figure which did not even once glance behind. When it disappeared into the block of houses beyond, he turned to go.

He went home, ate something, and again came out. He would not remain in the line, he would sleep the night away in one of the Weathering Houses. He could think no more of things tonight.

As he was walking wearily all alone through the plantation, suddenly Anjana flashed through his brain. That naughty girl asked him to go to her line tonight to drink and listen to the harmonium. He made for Line No. Seven instead of the Weathering Houses.

The playing of the harmonium had already begun. Bibhishan was playing and singing. Two other men from the line were drinking by his side. Anjana was pouring for them, and she too was drinking.

“Narayan Bhai!” she greeted him with eagerness, “You have really come then?” She gave him a seat and made him sit comfortably. Bibhishan, still singing, bent his head by way of greeting the newcomer.

In front of the room assigned to him from a long block, Bibhishan himself had built another room and here they were drinking and singing. In a comer fire-wood was heaped and in another a few poultry were covered with two plucking-baskets.

Narayan began gulping cup after cup. Anjana, very fond of him, was pouring for him and also every now and then serving him with plates of chicken fry. Bmhishan kept on singing all sorts of songs–Hindi film-songs, Bengali and Assamese record-songs and Kirtan. ‘The other two men were busy with themselves. And Anjana, in between her sipping from a cup and serving others, was heartily talking with Narayan, who was of course not prone to talk.

When the liquor was exhausted and the two men gone, Narayan was tottering. Anjana also was drunk, but she was careful. Bibhishan was asleep. Anjana’s child had slept long ago.

Supporting himself against a wall Narayan said drowsily, “I’ll go home.” Anjana put her hand on his head and said kindly, “You won’t go home at this hour of the night, Narayan Bhai.” You’ll sleep here. I am giving you a bed.” She spread a big hessian cloth for a bed and he lay down there. Anjana made a bundle of rags and clothes and slipped it under his head for a pillow. “Anjana,” he called.

She put her left hand on his forehead and responded, “Yes, Narayan Bhai.”

He caught hold of her hand, but remained silent. She thought she smelt a rat, and again said in as soothing a tone as possible, “What is the matter, Narayan Bhai?”

Suddenly Narayan’s head slipped onto Anjana’s lap and he broke into loud sobs. She was really astonished now, but trying to be careful she began to pat lightly on his head to console him. “What’s wrong with you, Narayan Bhai?”

In between sobs Narayan said what was wrong with him. “I am done with, Anjana. I was jailed, but they are now saying bad things to me. There is no work for me here–our Labour Union and the Circle Office won’t help me. And Ranjana, Ranjana too...” He could not finish the sentence.

Anjana held him with both her arms and pulled him towards her bosom. “Narayan Bhai,” she consoled him, “Narayan Bhai, it is of no use weeping. The world is like that. Do them good and they will forget you. But never mind that. They will not always forget you. See, I am not forgetting you. You were always a good boy and you will always remain a good boy. They must come to you, Narayan Bhai. Let Ranjana go, a better Ranjana will come to you, and I myself shall bring her.”

For a few minutes Narayan lay sobbing in Anjana’s arms. He was really consoled by her–she that was so wicked, so naughty a girl. He felt relieved and slept in her lap as if in his mother’s.