AND BALEN, what did he do?

How long could a man laugh! He became exhausted. As the sounds of his laughter died down, fatigue overpowered him and he lay there. He gave birth to a new sun in the eastern sky by snoring all night.

However, she gave little importance to the sun. A newly wed bride, she began completing her household chores silently. Who knows where Balen had passed a full day by laughing and playing around. He entered the room again at night. She cast a straight look at the man whom she had never met or with whom she had no acquaintance at all. A man with a strong and stout figure, but the eyes and face far from being emotive. Man’s flow of thoughts is always constant and ceaseless. But it was shattered to pieces in case of Balen. In the middle, there was a big void indeed. A void, bereft of any thought.

She studied him well and became sure regarding the doubt she had in her mind.

He came close to her and stopped. Giving two taps on her right cheek with the tip of his index finger, he giggled at her, saying, “Bride! O’ bride!”

She tossed his hand away. That was not she herself, but a bottle of kerosene. No sooner had he touched her with his match-stick– like index finger, she burst into flames.

She fumed at him, “How dare you touch me? If you come closer again I shall crush your bones to powder.”

What happened to him in a moment? How did he burst into laughter? Laughing on and on, he somehow reached the bed. Holding his stomach with a hand, he said, “See, how lean and thin the hands of the bride are! Oh ....ho! See her hand which cannot even slap a mosquito! Oho .....ho! I shall die! I shall die laughing. Surely, I shall die.”

Was he mad?

Exhausted by constant laughing, he fell asleep.

After a couple of days, she dragged him out of the bed, along with the bedspread. Gritting her teeth, she screamed, “Come out. I’m telling you, come out of the bed at once.”

“Ha ......... ha!”

With a yawn, he wiped his eyes and face.

“Come out from my bed. My body aches sleeping on the hard ground. And he is latsahab – who is here, regardless of anything, lying on my bed.”

“Then where shall I sleep?”

“Go to hell.”

He moved out of the room. With a rebellious wantonness, she heaved a sigh of relief and lay on the bed. A wind must be blowing outside – a plank of the door made some creaking sounds. Annoyed, she got out of the bed. Across the threshold, she saw him in the pale glow of the moon. He was cracking the joints of his fingers, one after another.

She flew into a rage.

It seemed, she could burn everything to ashes. In collusion with her mother, the family for whom she had so long been working faithfully, had married her off to this man. As such, she became furious and wanted to take revenge on him. She shut the door with full force.

The Athmangala (a post marriage function held in the bride’s house), would be held the next day. Turning her face, she lied to her mother-in-law, “There is a problem. I’m having my periods.”

‘That is not bad. Our Gosain (son) has been ready since morning. He loves going around.”

Some of the guests who had come for the marriage ceremony were still there. The elder daughter-in-law opened her mouth from where she was chopping some vegetables, “Yes, is he not foppish? He is always fond of eating palatable dishes and going around in fine dress.”

“And his studies?” She asked feebly.

Her husband’s brother’s wife whispered in her ear, “How is it possible! He had that capacity, too. But why should he overburden himself? So, he gave up.”

“Then how does he run the shop?”

“Who says he runs a shop? He does the work of wrapping things in Dadhi’s shop.”

She bust into flames. A barrage of questions came out of her mouth.

“Then ......?” “He has landed properties. There are the

sharecroppers who feed the family. There is surplus of paddy every year which is sold out. Why should he sit idle? All the family members engage him in that job.”

Pulling a thread of the veil, she said in a low tone, “Why should one get him into marrying? No one had given even a hint to me.”

Her husband’s brother’s wife said nothing. Considering her age, her mother-in-law was likely to be deaf. But, she retorted, “Keep aside that urban jargon, my daughter! Who cooks rice by asking the vessel? Had he been a man of letters, we could have managed a beautiful bride for my gosain. How dear was he to his father! He is no less than a god in his physique, countenance, character and conduct. It is only the irony of fate that we had to marry him to a maid servant.”

In lieu of cold water, a heap of sand was poured in the flame of the fire. Mother-in-law cried from the verandah, “Hey you, unlucky woman! Did you not see the stains of spittle on my son’s shirt? Can’t you wash it clean?”

“Oh my God! Are you feeding him that way? Even an enemy is not treated that way.”

“Month after month, you are having menses, but how long? Should I live to see a barren woman’s face every morning?”

She turned a deaf ear to her mother-in-law’s filthy tongue. She did not listen to him either.

When a storm blows or a man dies in the village, he entreats her like a child, “Let me sleep with you.”

“You rascal!”

“I fear sleeping alone.”

“Go and sleep with your mother.”

Holding a leg of the cot, he keeps standing.

Sometime at midnight, he comes up to her. She grits her teeth. “What happened? Why are you standing here like a ghost?”

She gets up. Keeping aside her problem, she would tell him, “Go. Sleep in the bed. But mind it, you won’t be endowed with this favour always.”

He becomes very pleased. Getting up on the bed he gestures to her with his hands. “Come. Sleep here. The cot has enough room for both of us. Come and share it.”

“That day I twisted your hands. Did you forget it?”

No, nothing could make him laugh. Her hands may be lean and thin. But how strong, he could know that day only. With a dejected mind he fell asleep with his face turned towards the wall.

With a heavy heart, she, too, lay down. Men are lonely creatures in this vast world, she could realise that. She had almost snapped all relations with her mother’s home. She knew why man is only needed by man. But she could not ascertain when one needs the other. She had come here to give up her life. She had no other identity but that of the Gosain’s wife and with that identity, she would be carried to the cremation ground.

What more may be in store in this life?

(To be continued)

Translated by: Suresh Sharma

Monikuntala Bhattacharyya