Aversion
As I had kept myself awake reading a book till three at night, it was past ten when I woke up the next morning. I felt heavy in the head and drowsy. The rays of the winter sun sliding through the window were like a ladylove’s hands gently massaging her beloved’s body to relieve him of body pains.
The room was messy with banana peels and cigarette butts strewn all over. The book I was reading last night and the blanket had fallen to the floor. The table lamp was still glowing. Lawrence, Eliot, Neruda, SriSri, Chalam and Ravisastri- the books in the shelf seemed to be laughing at me. The day’s newspaper was lying at the door.
It was vacation and my roommate had gone to his place. Had he been here, the room wouldn’t have been in such a mess. He would have got up early and swept the floor clean so there would be no peels of banana and cigarette butts. I had not gone home though it was vacation. Eager to grasp Eliot, Neruda, SriSri, Chalam and to create a great work of art myself, I stayed behind. I would be busy with my friends and relations if I went to my place and I would not be free even a minute there. The hostel mess was closed, as it was vacation. Yet, I stayed on in the hostel, eating food in the city. Except my room mate and me nobody liked the rooms that were at the end in the D block of the university hostel. Two canteens were just a few steps away. A landscaped garden stood in front of the hostel. ‘Tagore auditorium’, and an American library were also nearby. The BT road appeared always quiet. My room was ideally situated just in the line of the breeze that brought in the fragrance of flowers. I liked this room very much as it was my roommate’s selection for me.
After attending to daily ablutions, I flipped through the pages of the daily newspaper and went to the canteen. The chairs were placed under the staircase. The heat seaming through the gaps between the trees and the shade offered by the tree was a pleasant experience. These days I had been visiting this canteen many times at this hour. Hot samosas would be ready. When I went there, even before I asked for them, Salim served me samosas first, then tea and later brought me a packet of cigarettes. Taking the cigarette packet from him I gave him a twenty-rupee note. He returned thirteen rupees to me.
That day too the postman had not come yet. When Ramana was going to the village I asked him to tell my father to send me money. It had been ten days since he left for the village. So far I hadn’t received money. Instead of sending a message through him, I should have written a post card to my father. I wasn’t sure whether he had given my message to my father. I was a bit lethargic and did not write to him. My father might have thought that I had borrowed money from someone. Though I had a few relations in
After staying in the library till 6 o’clock, I felt hungry and so I went to the Siddartha hotel. I liked this hotel and the Irani one where there was continuous clamour. I was a wee bit odd. . I always mulled over an incomplete poem or a story. Once I was lost in such thoughts waiting at the bus stop. One of my close relations, it seemed, had yelled at me three times but could bring me back to the present only after she shook me up vigorously. She said that it was only after that I spoke to her. What could I have talked with her? Everyone said that my words were unclear like fog or a clouded sky. What should I do if they could not understand me? After ten days I received a long letter from my mother. She was furious that I was getting spoiled by the literature I had been reading and she sounded very angry and distressed. I became annoyed at this relative of mine. These women always magnified things.
After half an hour I reached Siddartha. I was in two minds whether to have food in Siddartha or walk a little ahead and have biryani in Prashanth hotel. Precious time would always be lost in such trivial predicaments. At last I went to Siddartha. I liked the hotel but I detested the manager. His eyes were a sea of vulgarity and when he opened his mouth he appeared like a gaping alligator. I would always go to this hotel alone. With out caring for others I would go to a corner and drink coffee. The hotel was full of teenagers like me. All of them were having coffee while enjoying themselves in the company of girls. I felt an ache as if a spike had pierced my heart. Why couldn’t I behave like any other young man? Why was I unable to lead life as they did? They had been spending time joyfully with girls. But why was I different? Many women tried to be friendly with me but I always remained aloof. I didn’t know why.
I recalled the incident that occurred two days ago in the hotel. That day a couple, unable to find a place anywhere, came and sat at my table opposite me. They were chatting happily, without any inhibition. I could know that they were not married yet. I felt like asking them a question, as I was curious.
“Would you marry her or leave her after dating?” I asked the man seriously.
“I would marry her after getting a job” he replied confidently with out any hesitation.
I wouldn’t have answered so boldly. I would certainly have faltered and uttered a lie or rebuked,
” It’s none of your business.”
Though I was eating food, the feeling of loneliness was pestering my mind. So aloof amidst so many people, isolated in the middle of the joyous cataracts. The loneliness I felt always frightened me. The mood burnt like coal in the furnace of my mind. I finished eating, but the feeling of loneliness remained.
Lost in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed the girl who sat opposite me. She was perhaps twenty-two or so. With a pointed nose, red lips and sharp eyes- she looked beautiful.
I remained staring at her. I wanted to order a cup of coffee when the bearer came to me. Even before I finished my words she ordered two cups of coffee. I tried to remember her. I felt I had not known her before. I was not acquainted with her nor had I seen her. Her voice sounded sweet.
“You are Ramesh?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied. I thought she might have known my name from my book lying on the table.
I could not recollect who she was despite my efforts to refresh my memory. I told her so. She just smiled. I felt I shouldn’t have said so. She might be a distant relation, I thought. She enquired about me and I understood that she was not a person who I had known before.
I asked a few questions about her. She answered. She had discontinued her B.Sc. degree and she was now living in Varasiguda. When I was talking to her I felt relieved of my loneliness. I had come to a conclusion then and I should not delay any more. I should take the initiative. After having coffee we came out paying the bill. It was just after eight. Weather was turning a tad nippy. We were walking closely together. As I had never been so intimate with a woman, I was buoyant with excitement. Talking something we walked for a while.
“I haven’t seen university hostels so far,” she said. I felt I should not delay any more.
“You can visit my room,” gathering courage I said, “ let’s go.”
“But I should be back at home by eleven,” she said.
“Let’s go by an auto rickshaw, we can go fast and Varasiguda is also near from there”
She accepted.
Together we walked ahead but couldn’t find an auto. Still we had to walk further. When the end of her sari touched me I was excited and my mind quivered with joy. When my fingers touched her hand she held them in hers. I felt the warmth and the ecstasy, the feeling similar to the inexplicable contentment I got when a poem that had remained unfinished for long was completed. ‘If someone noticed me walking together with that woman?’--- I was afraid, but I assured myself.
“Why is your hand trembling?” She asked.
I felt ashamed.
“It’s cold, so…” comforting myself I said.
Was it a fancy for her to be with a man? Or did she need any money? All these thoughts swarmed my mind. Was I wrong in my opinion? She might not be having such thoughts, after all.
“In this cold your hand is warm,” clearing my throat I said.
“Is it the first time?”
I didn’t understand.
“For you?”
She smiled but didn’t utter a word.
Perhaps it would be for money. I wanted to go to the end that night. I didn’t want to lose her that night.
“Is it for money?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“How much do you need?”
“A hundred rupees is enough.”
Finding an auto we got into it and told him where to go. I didn’t want to let her go. My desire was overpowering me. Taking her hand into mine I chatted with her. Within fifteen minutes we reached the university press. We got down and paid the auto. Except the glow from the lights, it was quiet. Opening the door lock we went inside. The table lamp was still glowing and the fan was still running. After a keen inspection of the room she looked at me strangely.
I told her about literature, university and hostel.
She told me about women, youth and films. Though none would come to my room at this hour, there was some fear in some corner of my mind that someone might.
After half an hour I placed my hand around her, bolting the door from inside. I could hear my heart thumping. Some ecstatic trance seemed to have seized me.
We sat together on the same bed. She put out the table lamp.
The room became warm. Unknowingly my hands were fondling her figure. It appeared as natural as a newborn baby crying without any instructions from the others. The wind became hot in her embrace. An experience for ages. For a few minutes my mind became blank. There was no Neruda, no SriSri, no Eliot, no Ezra Pound and no Karl Marx. There were no dawns nor dusks. No unfinished poems. No incomplete stories. None was there except the ecstasy, the feeling of aching pleasure that words could not describe.
After a few minutes I came back to normal state. My mind started working. If she asked for money what should I do? Feeling of guilt. She got up from the bed and put on her clothes. I too adjusted my dress. My thoughts were about the money she might ask and I felt depressed. She lighted the lamp. Looking into the mirror she adjusted her hair. She was about to leave.
After two minutes:
“Give me money. I have to go,” she said.
I went to the bookshelf. Taking a few volumes from the shelf–Eliot’s collected works, Chalam’s Musings, Sri Sri’s Mahaprasthanam published in
After a few seconds, with a nasty look she threw the books at my face and walked out opening the door. She did not look back. Her looks pierced my heart like a spear. It made me hate myself. And I have been furious with myself since.
***
Andhra Jyothi weekly 28-10-1988
Translated from Telugu by Dr.T.Sreenivasa Reddy
No comments:
Post a Comment