Anger by Amar Shah (A short story translated from Nepali)
Anger
-Got any bucks?
Dhane pulled his rickshaw to the north-east side of the Chowk, where 2/3 rickshaws were standing
on a row, and asked to Rampreet. He handled the rickshaw with his right hand
and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his left.
-Nah… misfortune is overwhelming…
Rampreet spat. His dirty teeth smeared with tobacco were
seen.
Month of mid-May and two in the afternoon- the timing was
perfect to heighten the fame of Nepalgunj as a hot city.
-They may break the rickshaw… Take rest at home and celebrate
the strike.
The rickshaw owner was reluctant to provide the rickshaw.
Alike the whole country, Nepalgunj was also suffering from continuous bandh and
strike, and there were more chances of getting thrashed instead of getting
money in such situations.
-What to rest without food? I should be safe from
demonstrators’ eyes and if they caught me I would…
He had urged with his whole heart remembering his hungry
children. The bandh has continued for the whole week and it has discontinued
his earning. His wife Bimala has warned him many times the kitchen would go dry
if the situation continued.
The heat in the hungry stomach of his wife and two sons was
more painful than the heat of the mid-day. Therefore, even on the day of strike
and on this high summer day, he had pulled the rickshaw up to the road waiting
for the passengers.
He turned his eyes towards B.P. Chowk- the road was isolated. He looked to Pushpalal Chowk- it too was quiet. And, he then
moved his glance to Khajura Road where the houses were dismantled in order to
widen the road- there was also no any possibility of the new passengers.
Dhane, who had been pulling the rickshaw on the potholes of
Nepalgunj, had never imagined to be a rickshaw puller even in his wildest
dreams. Rather he had thought to be a porter or a ploughman as he was born in
the hills. Or simply a labourer in Kalapahad. But he who hadn’t ever seen the
rickshaw up to the age of 15/16 is now doing what-so-ever, means pulling the
rickshaw- he had never imagined about this. Perhaps this is the ‘destiny’ that educated
people call.
-Father survived like grandfather, and we like our father…
just we’ve got to drag our life… until the last breath…
Father was always an extreme pessimist. There was a small
mud-house. No property. Neither inside nor outside the house. 10/12 acres of
uncultivable land was there- only suitable for growing maize and millet. As a
result, mother was always worried about the meals every day. Dhane recalled his
mother as a woman who either carried a big belly with her or carried a big
worry about feeding the family.
Probably, his father used to believe that the God, the
provider of stomach and mouth, would also provide the hands. As a result,
Dhane’s mother gave birth to his siblings every year. Dhane could not remember
how many of them were born, yet they were four of them alive- one elder sister
and two younger brother and sister each.
Dhane was brought up like all other poor Dalit children in
those hills. He started schooling at about six. At eleven he left the school
and started to look after the cattle at Maila Babusaheb’s and when he reached
seventeen, he was promoted to hali2
at the same Babusaheb’s.
His life also would take the same track as his forefathers’
and would end along with the last breath, but for his love affair with Bimala.
It became the turning point of his life when he fell in love with her.
Bimala was a daughter of a Chhetri3 and his classmate as well. Economically, there
was not a great difference between their families but socially, there was an
immeasurable gulf between them. Yet, this difference couldn’t separate their
love.
-Can you flee me away?
One day Bimala challenged him.
Bimala was beautiful, like a heroine he saw in the films later
and age was also played a major role that time.
-Will you elope with me?
Dhane accepted the challenge. It was marriage between a Dalit
and a Chhetri, and no matter what the
law advocates, society could never permit them to do so. As a result they ran
away.
This happened almost five years ago.
-In you I believe, wherever you take me.
Bimala entrusted him totally. She was ready to go anywhere.
-I would endure whatever comes in the foreign land, but how
would you…
He was afraid what would happen to Bimala. They ran away from
the village but Dhane couldn’t gather the courage to cross the border. They
descended to Nepalgunj and started to live with scarcity, insecurity, heat, and
mosquitoes.
To hide from own family members, to struggle in a new place,
and to protect young Bimala both from hunger and hungry eyes- Dhane had a great
responsibility and he had been successful too. During the preliminary years, he
assembled at Tribhuvan Chowk every
morning in search of casual labour work. Later he changed his job hundreds of
times and now for the last two years he had been pulling rickshaw.
-Earlier, it wasn’t like this. Rate was less but work was
more.
Rampreet, who had been in this profession for the last twenty
years, was an absolute witness of the changes that have occurred on the roads
of the city.
-Motorcycle, Tharu and the Pahadiya4 have
destroyed all…
Rampreet would always express his dissatisfaction with his
concluding note.
It was Rampreet’s inference that the increasing number of
motorcycles had lessened the rickshaw passengers and earlier rickshaw pulling
was the profession practiced by the Madhesis only but now Tharu and Pahadiya too were added to it which
ultimately hampered the income source of rickshaw pullers. Dhane didn’t know the
complete history, but however he was certain that in the recent years the
number of Tharus and Pahadiyas had
remarkably increased in this profession of indigenous Madhesis along with the
number of motorcycles.
-And, what about bandh and strike?
Somebody would add a comment.
-Sure, sure, true, true, right!
Rampreet would instantly agree.
It has been four years that the statues of the Kings from
Tribhuvan and Birendra Chowk had been
terminated and nowadays the people were talking about the upcoming new constitution.
And the terror and fear had ruled the hearts of the people as if it was not a
constitution but a catastrophe that was coming. As a result, there was a chain
of bandh and strike which affected Dhane’s profession very badly like all other
businesses.
-What do we get after removing the King’s statue?
Dhane and other rickshaw pullers would discuss as they were
waiting for the passengers.
-Revenge and hatred, and loads of leaders like ‘junior
kings’.
Someone would reply. Maybe it was the best answer.
Strike has been a routine but this time it was harsher and
continued for more than ten days. Everyone has been victimized by this strike
and moreover Dhane was frustrated.
-We haven’t paid for the ration and the house rent for the
last month… Now we should either live on the road or without food…!!
Bimala had reminded him many a time.
But there was no any solution. To survive the day with the
same day’s earning was like filling water in a strainer. And it has been months
since the daily earning has stopped.
-They’re writing constitution, maybe it will be better later.
He would be hopeful. Dhane had no other interest and
information about constitution except that he had thought he would get the
right to pull the rickshaw with no fear.
-I think we won’t survive until the constitution was
completed.
Bimala would sigh with disappointment.
-There’s nothing to cook and the shopkeeper won’t provide
goods until we pay.
Everything in the kitchen lasted yesterday. They had fed
their children the remaining food and slept with their hungry belly.
-If you didn’t bring the money today…
Bimala had been worrying since the morning.
The market was closed but the mouth that ingests wasn’t
closed and the main thing was that the children were not big enough to
understand all this. So, Dhane had pledged his rickshaw owner and ventured to
bring the rickshaw on the main road.
The heat of mid-day and the day of strike. He had been
waiting for more than an hour and still there were no chances of any passengers
to be seen. He looked around, everything was closed. Halt!
-What do we get from this strike, huh Rampreet?
He began to talk to Rampreet who was also waiting for
passengers.
-We get torture and the leaders get power…
Rampreet’s answer was like so sharp like a Pyuthani knife.
Finally, Dhane got passengers at four. Both were probably the
heavy-weight champions of some sports. While pulling the rickshaw, Dhane was
sweating like a flowing stream of rainy season.
They stopped at the gate of Bheri Zonal Hospital and the fat
man gave him fifteen rupees. When Dhane didn’t spread his hands, the fat man
understood Dhane’s reaction about the insufficient fare and looked at him like
a roaring lion.
-If you don’t need, don’t take. Maoists have lifted everyone,
even the rickshaw pullers are acting like big brothers…
The couple of fat people entered the gate of hospital. Dhane
clenched his teeth with anger. Eyes welled up with tears. And then he sped his
rickshaw to Banke village at the liquor shop of Maili Magarni.
-Only if you have money, otherwise…
Maili welcomed Dhane with the words those were bitter than
the liquor she made at home by mixing the urea.
Maili produces the liquor and serves it with pickle, curry,
and fried meat to the customers like Dhane. They say that she also serves other
things than this, but except for drinking liquor sometimes, Dhane has never
tried to those ‘other’ things from her.
-You want to drive away the customer who has come even on the
day of strike? You think I’ll run away without paying?
Dhane was upset. He drank occasionally- only when he was very
sad or very happy, and mostly the occasion was the former.
-For how long can I provide you all the credit?
Maili could not reject him. She brought a glass of liquor and
some pickles.
The first sip of liquor did not make its way to his tired and
hungry stomach, rather he travelled to his mind directly.
-Just fifteen rupees in the pocket, not enough even to pay
the rickshaw owner…
At once he took another sip.
-Strike has been declared for uncertain period and there are
no chances for peace…
Immediately he took another glass.
-House owner is asking for the rent for last two months and
if Dhane didn’t, the house owner had threatened to kick him out.
Instantly he finished his fourth shot.
-The shopkeeper wouldn’t provide the ration until he
clarified the account.
Again he took another sip.
-Today’s earning was zero. Bimala has said that no food would
be cooked if there was no money…
Dhane emptied the whole bottle.
-Now, you’ll die, go home… don’t drink more…
Maili had been looking Dhane getting drunk, and now she
chided him softly.
Dhane couldn’t stand on his feet when he reached his place in
the middle of Bulbuliya village.
-How couldn’t you think about our hungry children?
Bimala whined opening the door. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Why should I?... Did those leaders who announced the strike
think about us?
Dhane went inside with his stumbling feet and sat on the bed.
While sitting he stepped on sleeping child’s leg. The child began to cry after
waking up.
-Shut up, you rascal…
Dhane slapped the child.
-You’ve gone mad… You beat the baby after drinking that
Maili’s piss..?
Bimala cried very loudly. She even tried to defend.
-Go and shout at those leaders… you whore…
For the first time in his life Dhane used bad words against
Bimala and even rebuked her. Stumbling, he went to bed and instantly began to
snore.
Footnotes:
1 Chowk a roundabout
2 hali a ploughman who is appointed to
plough the field of his masters only
3 Chhetri a so called upper caste in Nepalis
society
4 Pahadiya a dweller of hilly region
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