Once Upon a Time by Amar Shah (Translated from Nepali)

 

Once Upon A Time

                                                                                                -Amar Shah

When the Zimuwal¹ lit the Gaida² cheroot, everyone, who had been talking whether the famine would strike this winter or not, whether the price of ghee in Nepalgunj would rise or not, shut up. The chautari³ was clouded by the smoke of cigarette, bindi⁴ and tobacco.

-What does he want? Ask him Grandpa!

When the Zimuwal shouted, the Old Grandpa and all others in the chautari turned their eyes to Gore. Gore, in his old waistcoat and a pair of underpants, tried to look back at everyone’s eyes, but couldn’t, so again he stared into his knees below.

It was time after Tihar and as everybody has easily guessed, it was all happening now. Yesterday evening, Katuwal⁵- who now is the peon of this village Panchayat, has informed the order of Zimuwal- who now is the head of the village Panchayat, to all the villagers. The order was order, so this village Panchayat was called as the court of justice.

-That day he was highly bubbling, and today why so silent like a stone?

Zimuwal began to smile. He often smiles when he is angry. This is how he becomes angrier and angrier- everybody understood.

-What does he really want?

Zimuwal’s voice grew louder.

-Want to strike your arm with the rock? Have you gone crazy?

Old Grandpa threw his flattery note.

Katuwal shook off the tobacco from the hukka⁶.

Gore said nothing. Neither did he want to. It was a different situation on the day of Tihar. That day he was drunk. His son was crying like hell for not getting a pair of new vest on Tihar and when his wife began to curse him about his inability just to buy a new vest for his son during Tihar, he lost his temper.

-Sisters and brothers will visit during Tihar. You know how much I spend for them. So, come after Tihar…

When he had asked for his wages of the whole month of Ashoj, Zimuwal had postponed his request with a smile. His son didn’t get a new vest, nor did his wife get a new sari. Alcohol and crying son. When the limit was crossed that day, he had slapped his son twice very hard, and then he shouted against Zimuwal from his courtyard.

Then after, he himself doesn’t know how he happened to say all those things. He was shouting from the top of Zimuwal’s house, and didn’t stop until the villagers dragged him down. Later he knew from his wife what he had said. He had said that he would cut Zimuwal to death; would collapse Zimuwal’s brick-house which was built without paying the wages. All those things he spilled out which he dared not think otherwise. He had also pointed out how Zimuwal had victimized them- both as Zimuwal and the head of village Panchyat, then and now respectively. So he would take a revenge in coming election. From where did he get such courage? He doesn’t know exactly. He even accused Zimuwal of destroying the forest and not establishing a school in the village. And ultimately declared that either he or Zimuwal would live, if the situation continued.

Now he said nothing. He was just brooding over what he had done.

-Eh, why don’t you speak? Want to terrify us, you bloody fool?

It was Zimuwal’s younger brother who stood up abruptly with clenched fists.

-It was all because of alcohol… Otherwise how would he, who survived in your leftovers, go against you!

Somebody in the crowd tried to calm the matter down.

-Who doesn’t drink nowadays? I’m sure Ganesh has persuaded him to do so.

When Zimuwal said this, everyone remembered Ganesh, who was a teacher at an only primary school of the village council. He had recently been victimized by Zimuwal. Although only Zimuwal’s offspring studied in that village council, it was a mysterious fact that how Ganesh’s father had made his son pass SLC. Nevertheless, he had offered five kilos of ghee to Zimuwal when his son had passed the SLC. He also followed Zimuwal to Khalanga, carrying Zimuwal’s baggage along with his son, and later returned only after appointing his son as a teacher.

Everything was fine until then, but poor Ganesh never recovered when he objected during the election of village Panchayat head. In the name of tax, a lot of amount was collected and same amount of money was spent during the visit of different officers from the peon of district court to PDO and CDO. When Ganesh complained about it, he was transferred to a faraway school in the district. God knows where Ganesh is, but his father, whose son- the only breadwinner of the family, was nowhere to be seen, still pays a visit to Zimuwal’s house to run the expenditure of the family.

You can say Ganesh was an idiot. He behaved straightly, and thus was trapped.

-You tell me your problems. I will solve them at any cost by fighting with district to central government. Within six months, if I failed to establish a middle school, a health post, and a post office for village council, I would resign at once. Please tell me- if you are troubled by police or any other official, I will see…

When the Honourary Minister came from the headquarters of Salyan Khalanga during the time of election, he paved the highway of flattery with his slippery words. And Ganesh slipped on that highway very easily. He complained against Zimuwal right at that moment. The Minister won the election. Once again he became the Honourary Minister and only once returned to village. But when he came Ganesh had been transferred. He couldn’t see his lovely Minister feasting at Zimuwal’s house using the ‘yes-father’ words with Zimuwal.

What is this ‘Zimuwal’? All the high ranking officials at the headquarters happen to be his close relations.

-Chief of police station is my elder son’s friend.

-Revenue officer is my friend’s son.

-New CDO is also my close relative.

Whenever he returned from the district headquarters, he just exaggerated his relations and it’s not hard to believe him, because whoever officials visit the village, they go after him saying the words ‘yes-father’.

Gore has clearly understood about this result right after he became sober on the very same day of Tihar. But he never spoke a single word. There was nothing to say after all.

-You shouldn’t have said such things, Gore. Go and bow your head down… Otherwise Zimuwal will never let you free…

After the day of Tihar, some of his relatives have come to suggest him.

-Why should I bow?

-Have you got your wages on time?

-Is it justifiable that he destroy half of the jungle for firewood and we even not get the leaves?

-What’s my mistake to ask for forgiveness?

When nobody answered his questions, he threatened them and sent them away.

-Zimuwal is after all the Headman. You shouldn’t prank the crocodile under the water…

They all have returned with these words.

Gore was still staring deep into his knees. It was the greatest dishonor for Zimuwal that Gore was still silent and he hadn’t asked for forgiveness yet.

-He’s not going to obey! Secretary, write a letter to police officer…

Zimuwal ordered, and the secretary got ready to write.

-He would learn a lesson after spending six months in prison for the accusation of abusing plus disrespecting.

Zimuwal smiled continuously.

Everyone became attentive. Writing a letter to police officer means to invite the police in the village, which means if police came, definitely Gore’s ribs would be snatched.

-Please, forgive him. If he is in, his wife will go nowhere but to your doorstep for help.

Old Grandpa expressed his sympathy.

-How dare you interfere, if he himself is ready to go in… I’d already thought to break his jaw right on the day of Tihar.

Zimuwal’s younger brother stood up once again in aggression. He would have slapped Gore, lest others stopped him.

-A monkey hits his own master. You would not survive the winter without the millet from my house, and now you want rivalry?

Slowly Zimuwal was getting angry.

-Opposite mind gives opposite results. You want to cut down the tree that gives you shade.

Katuwal added.

-I’ve been leading the area for the last 30 years. No one has challenged me till now. You son of a bitch… that day you had said either I will live or you. Let me see your strength!

Zimuwal’s mouth lathered with rage.

He would have hit Gore with his stick, lest other people stopped him.

Gore turned his eyes to Zimuwal. There was no regression, no tear, and no pain in those eyes. They were burning with rage. Perhaps he was thinking how Zimuwal had forced others to work for six months just by giving them a handful of rotten millet; how he had slaved others for 2/4 years just by lending them 50/60 bucks during the crisis.

-I won’t allow him to stay in this village. He shall take his family with him and leave within four days… If I didn’t take any action, tomorrow people would kick on my chest.

Finally Zimuwal concluded his judgment and looked around.

-It’s better to throw out the rotten potato from the sack…

Old Grandpa supported at first. Others neither supported nor protested. Zimuwal used to say what he thinks, and used to do what he says. His village was like a separate country with his own rules, and nobody dared to go against him.

-Katuwal, tell him what I would do if he didn’t leave within four days…

Zimuwal ordered.

-Why don’t you think about your family and children…

Katuwal tried to convince Gore by taking him to the corner.

-Leave me alone, let Zimuwal rule the village. My shoulders are with me if not the village.

Gore wasn’t frightened.

-Don’t you remember what underwent with Maila Khatri? He had to leave the village and now suffering in Mehalkhana.

-More than here?

Katuwal’s mouth remained shut.

The sunrays fell horizontally on the hedges, and cold breeze blew in the chautari. Zimuwal lit another cigarette. Old Grandpa puffed the bindi, once again the chautara was crowded with the price of ghee, wheat farming, and the raising prices in the city of Nepalgunj.

Just everyone was getting ready to leave, then Gore’s wife appeared, crying.

-It’s not fair, Maalik⁷!

She shouted in pain. Someone must have told her about the judgment.

-Then go to police station… court…

-Your palace is everything for us. Where can I go with these babies?

-Ask your man!

Zimuwal smiled.

-Wanna show your courage!

She got up, hold the stick lying nearby and beat her husband three or four times.

-Don’t you know how to obey your master, you worthless bull…

-This Gore doesn’t have any wit alike his wife.

Somebody threw a criticism and everybody laughed. Zimuwal looked at Katuwal.

-I know he is a shameless fool, but please, have mercy on these helpless children.

Katuwal pleaded with his joined hands.

-Please have mercy.

Gore’s wife was still crying.

The wailing of Gore’s wife made him feel uncomfortable. He alone couldn’t go against Zimuwal throughout his life. He didn’t know the territory beyond his village, except the bazaar of Nepalgunj, where he used to visit on market day. Every ways he walked would end in front of Zimuwal’s yard. And he couldn’t imagine beyond them. He had no other options besides exile from the village. At that time he will have his arms and shoulders with him to work for earning livelihood, but along with them he will have the responsibilities of wife and children.

During the day of Tihar, when he was drunk, if he had used his fists instead of his tongue, the case would be different. He would be satisfied as well. But for now, that opportunity has elapsed from his hands.

-Mistake is mine, Maalik, forgive…

Gore was burning inside while saying this, yet he felt a sense of contentment at the same time.

-Now he is really sober…

Somebody commented and everybody laughed. Zimuwal smiled. And this time he was really smiling for the sake of smiling.

Katuwal whispered in Gore’s wife’s ear. He murmured something to Zimuwal. Gore tightened his teeth thinking that next time he’d surely use his fists, instead of mouth only. Gore got a chance to stay in the village- Gore’s wife smiled. Zimuwal would take Gore’s buffalo in with calf- Zimuwal smiled.

 

Footnotes:

1 Zimuwal a headman, a respected person in the village who keeps law and oeder

2 Gaida a brand of cigarette

3 chautari a public place where usually there is a tree and people gather under its shade

4 bindi a type of local cigarette

5 Katuwal a messenger

6 hukka a type of tool that is used to smoke

7 Maalik master, owner

(Amar Shah is a Nepali short story writer. He was born in Salyan. )

Original Title in Nepali:  

Translated in: 2018