(This is translation of great Marathi author Mr. Uttam Kamble's famous short story.)
For fourth successive day Sharnappa’s family had to do without food. His only source of income, play of monkey, was abruptly stopped due to the outbreak of the riots in the city. City was on fire. Riotous groups were in destructive and violent mood bringing city life to the standstill. Curfew was imposed. Innocent people, scared to death, had closeted themselves behind closed doors. Due to curfew Sharnappa no longer could make his livelihood by entertaining people with his monkey’s play. His family was starving that lived in a hut beside a stream at the outskirts of the city. Those four days were a nightmare. Hunger and terror was taking its toll. Vyankya and Rankya, his two kids were dying for a piece of bread. Starving had shrunk their half-naked bodies to skeleton. Taking pity on their desperate appeal for bread, Sharnappa’s wife, Kanti, would suppress shame and would go out to beg, but in vain. As city was still under shadows of horror with strict curfew, there was no one on the streets she could beg to for her starving kids. Police would haul her out of deserted alleys threatening with guns. Terrified Kanti would be on her heels trying to seek shelter behind the huge mansions. Gathering her entire courage she would knock on the doors, saying in a wail, “Serve me stale food, Lord will bless you!” but the terrified inmates wouldn’t pay any heed at her desperate calls. Before her eyes would be afloat faces of her famished children.
Here, in the hut, Sharnappa would console his kids by caressing them, saying, “wait kids, bread is coming…be patient.” Would then bury his head in his bony knees in exasperation. His consolation wouldn’t quench hunger of his kids, he knew. Raja, his monkey, too was starving. He through his piteous eyes would mutely watch Sharnappa in expectation of food. Sharnappa’s heart would be chaos of lamentation when he would look at Raja upon whom his entire family depended.
When these bloody riots would stop and when can I perform my monkey’s play in the squares that would bring me some money, he would think desperately.
His starving kids were sitting reclining on the wall made of sticks, plastered by cow-dung. Rankya was naked except worn out shirt that had become sticky with sweat and dirt. Vyankya too was naked except a pant with its seams worn. The reason Vyankya was wearing pant, for he was elder and would feel ashamed to roam naked. Small Rankya could do without it, at least for a while.
Distressed with hunger, Rankya, as if something had flashed in his mind, crawled towards Raja monkey. Monkey licked him with affection. Rankya caressed Raja’s head and slowly inserted his fingers inside his mouth. Sharnappa, watching this got infuriated, shouted, “you son of scum, why put your hand in monkey’s mouth?”
“Just to check if monkey has stored something in his mouth…” said terrified Rankya, pulling out his hand, said lamenting, “but there is nothing!”
Sharnappa’s eyes welled up. Even in this sorry condition he could not stop praising his kid for his brains. He knew, whatever food you serve to monkey, he doesn’t swallow it immediately. Instead he chews it, no matter whether peanuts or bread, and then store it in his jaws to swallow it at his leisure. Many a times, in villages, if kid is suffering from whooping cough, people feed monkey with groundnuts or parched grams, keep it in his mouth for a while to remove it when it is drenched in his saliva. This converts to a medicine that can cure terrible cough. Rankya possibly knew it and when hunger could not be mitigated by any means, he tried his way out.
Sharnappa’s heart was lamenting.
Kanti brought good news. Curfew was lifted. City had begun to breathe again though in slow pace. Dark days were over. Sharnappa’s heart leapt in enthusiasm. He looked at his swooning kids, said, “you stupid monkeys, I now shall go in the city, shall perform couple of plays of Raja. Don’t worry you now, for I shall bring home back something that will satiate your crazy hunger. Keep quite till then, don’t pester for food. Can’t you hold on?”
This announcement ran a shiver of expectation in the kids’ heart. They rejuvenated their lost courage and hopes and started playing with sticks and rags in borrowed enthusiasm. Kanti begun cleaning the hut as Sharnappa started preparing for the evening’s play. He could see on Kanti’s face too was beaming a gleam of hopes that was missing since the day riots had begun. She cleaned the earthen stove removing the sodden ashes. She, as if sitting before the god, shut her eyes, prayed to the stove, “Don’t get angry O giver of food, don’t shun your eyes from us. Be always on flames, spray aroma of life giving food in this destitute hut for my kids. Don’t ever you be lifeless, the way you have been for days!”
Sharnappa heard her mute prayers in all piousness. His heart too couldn’t demand anything more. He held the rope of his monkey. Though starving, Raja, the monkey too sensed the changing atmosphere, chuckled his joy. His face too was shrunken. Eyes buried deep. Sharnappa caressed him with affection. Held his tiny hands in his, said, “today you must be at your best. Idleness is enough. People need entertainment after brutal violence. Let us keep their hearts alive. You should walk…hop and dance the way hero’s in movies do. Salute people when they clap. Jump through the fire ring when I command. I know you are tired and hungry dear, but we need food anyway, don’t we?” his voice was choked as he said this, kissed forehead of Raja. “Yes, we will perform our best today. My kids are starving for days. Don’t know who were those bastards who set the fire of riots. They must rot in the hell. Let they be pariah. Who authorized them to destroy our peaceful life? Wiser they thought they become more destructive and violent. What is this wisdom? Education? Good, my kids were denied admission in the schools. What good that would do anyway? Stupid…stupid are they, my friend, how thoughtless they could become for the people, who were living on their mercy. Do we ever rob them the way they do us? They are senseless people. They have no hearts. No problem Raja, let us go ahead, perform a show that would soothe common peoples’ troubled hearts.
Sharnappa, while using ragged strips of colored cloth as a necktie for Raja, was speaking whatever came to his troubled heart. He was feeling exhausted and was in an attempt to inject strength by speaking, as if had became his necessity for the moment. He fumbled in a gunnybag for the goggle, he had purchased in a fair and set it on Raja’s eyes taking every care it would not slip down. Raja exclaimed as he saw things differently through the colored glasses. Sharnappa patted him affectionately till he calmed down. Sharnappa wanted to present Raja today as a hero. A hero that had more senses that riotous people. Goggle was all right, that made Raja look like hero. The necktie addes an aura to his personality. But still Raja was naked. What to do about his pant? How hero would be praised if he were naked? He would be laughed at, instead.
Sharnappa muttered in a frustration, “what to do about your pant, Raja? People will hurl stones if they see hero without a pant!”
Then he hopefully looked at Kanti. Said, “O Kanti, can you give a pant for Raja?”
Kanti said, “where is pant may I ask you? Can’t you see your own kids roam naked in the slum? There is no piece of cloth in the home that can serve as a pant. Why make him hero? Make him old stupid man for this day and that doesn’t require a pant. Start before it is dark. Why waste time I say? City might get ablaze again, who knows!”
Sharnappa looked outside. Sunrays yet hadn’t slanted. He said in desperate voice, “Kanti, I have fixed the goggle and tie. See how beautiful Raja looks. He performs a role of great hero. See somewhere you can find something as a pant!”
“I told you there is nothing…” said Kanti in an irritated voice.
Sharnappa now seemed possessed with the idea he had up in his mind. He got confused. Anyway he wanted to present Raja as a hero before public and make them happy. But so helpless he was. Trying hard to find a solution he ran his gaze around. Time was trailing by. He might be late before he reaches the main city. Suddenly a thought flashed in his bereaved mind. he called Vyankya in an affectionate voice. Vyankya ran towards his father knowing not in what dilemma his father was. He looked at his father questioningly. Sharnappa said in as much as smooth voice, “Please give your pant today for Raja. He will look a real hero. Being hero he will perform so great that people will shower praises and money upon him. And when money is there I will buy you new pant and a new shirt for Rankya. Tell me, how can I take hero out without pant?”
Vyankya instantly got apprehensive. He said, “I will be stark naked if I give my pant. Kids will mock at me and will stone me.”
Sharnappa knew this and yet he persuaded, “just for this day, my son. On my way back I shall buy you new pant, promise.” Saying this Sharnappa with little efforts removed the pant from Vyankya’s waist and wore it hurriedly in Raja’s legs. Pant was too large for the monkey, looked like as if an abysmal bag.
Sharnappa, too a pleased over look of monkey, prayed for his wellbeing. Kanti too, pleased over monkey’s outfit, took green chilly, broke in middle, circled the pieces around Raja and threw them away so that Raja would be safe from any evil sight. Sharnappa started holding the rope that guided Raja behind him and a stick that could help balance his body. Kids seemed happy over the prospectus of new dresses and food in the evening. Stark nakedness had started Vyankya bothering less. Sun was overhanging on the western horizon.
Holding the rope that would serve many purposes during the play, Sharnappa made his way through the congested alleys to the main tar road. City was in sight. He increased his tired pace. Monkey followed him.
Monkey play was Sharnappa’s ancestral business. Training the monkeys was their acclaimed inheritance. Many a generations had been fed by monkey ‘s play. Monkey was their breadwinner.Monkey was their life. It was monkey that would earn a livelihood for them. Monkey was his god. When he stepped on the brutal stage of the world, first intimacy he established was with monkey. He would know monkey’s moods better than of his wife’s. He would attire monkey in different role everyday and would try his best to enchant passerby on the streets and in the squares with immense hopes to earn more to support his family. Tireless performances would fill his ragged cotton bag with food grain, groundnuts and coins. Monkey would have his evening lavish when the show went well. He would be allowed to savor parched grams, peanuts and groundnuts, even apple if luck was great, to his hearts content.
The moment Sharnappa would start banging his rattlebox, a sensation would run through monkey’s body. He would dance, jump, dive through the burning ring, would walk about the encircled people holding aluminum plate begging for alms. Would lit a cigarette like a villain, smoke and blew the circles of smoke. That would make spectators enthralled. They wouldn’t mind throwing coins in an appreciation. Monkey would return everything he collected to Sharnappa, his mentor. This would feed monkey and Sharnappa’s family.
Reminiscing over the past, cursing the nightmarish days of riots and curfew, Sharnappa entered the city. He never did know whether monkey was making his life or he of the monkey. The question would raise troubled winds in his mind, ultimately making him laugh at his wickedness.
Sharnappa reached the Gandhi Square where he found people were crowding the streets in an apprehension. The curfew was just lifted and a fear, anything might erupt again, was quite obvious in the faces of the people and so in the atmosphere. They had stopped laughing. They didn’t know what if outbreak of violence takes their toll. But they needed normalcy. They prayed for peace. And none was sure.
Sharnappa settled on the corner, started beating rattlebox, amusing sound attracted children and urchins. They gathered around in an anticipation of entertainment they had lacked. Slowly young and old too formed a circle around Sharnappa. Enthused Sharnappa like a crazy rattled his box, announcing, “O my compassionate, O merciful people I have brought before you play of monkey that will soothe your tired hearts. This monkey is nothing but incarnation of god, see, how wise it is just like we the human beings! See, how cute he is, raja Monkey, like Rajesh Khanna, Amitabh Bacchan…look at his tie…look at his goggle…look at his stylish stride. Take pity at him…give something for his starving stomach…for our empty stomach…Look how royal he looks though he hasn’t eat for days…my generous mentors! Can’t you take pity on him…on me either? You wont find such a hero in entire world who acts first and then begs for money. Why waste ten rupees to see a cinema, look at Raja’s real life performance!”
Sharnappa was talking tirelessly. Raja was acting at his directions in his practiced steps. Mob was getting piteous as it had seen enough heinous dance of hatred. They cheered. Threw coins and retreated as the fear again had started groping their heart…what if riot breaks?
Sharnappa’s throat was dried. Yet he got up, gathered all the coins, calculated, it was rupees six and seventy paisa, not bad on first performance, thought he.
There hardly was time to opt for another performance. Evening was casting its spell. Kids are starving, he knew. First he must buy provisions. He could return back in late evening for another game. He too was starving though he was somewhat used to it. Yelling constantly his commentary had dried up his throat. A grain of food and glass of water would rejuvenate his strength. Thanking Raja for his outstanding performance he entered a provision store, bought rice, grams and some edible oil. Left with one rupee and fifty paisa he strode with Raja towards the tea joint. He bought bread with fifty paisa, suppressed his desire to have a bite, and with all affection fed it to Raja. Raja savored every bit like coming from famine affected region. Sharnappa ordered a cup of tea for himself. The moment the tea was served, though boiling hot, he drank every drop in taste. With remaining coins he bought a cigarette. Leaving the rope behind on the table that restricted monkey, he walked towards the stove to lit his cheap cigarette. The moment he was leaning at the leaping fire to have his cigarette lit, he heard commotion behind him. What was that stupid sound…a screech…a gurgle that erupts when death clutches…and a stupefied yelling…
“Whose monkey was it? It is dead…”
Must be a whim of my drifting mind, he thought. He turned back, slowly, as if his heart was frozen. He spat his lit cigarette. Threw his glance on the street. A truck was stopped and driver was screaming something at the gathered mob in terrified voice. Below the front wheels lay bleeding Raja, his body shuddering, jerking on the onslaught of the death. Sharnappa bolted in frenzy. Tried to hold Raja, assure him, cursing him for his stupidity to run away on the street when everywhere were the assassins. He bolted up, thrust his weak punches in the chest of truck-driver for his recklessness. He wept. He yelled. When tired, he sat on the road, buried his face in his palms and wept like a crazy. Truck driver, taking chance, reversed his truck, freeing trampled body of the dead monkey, sped past for he knew he couldn’t be prosecuted for dashing and killing a monkey. Mob was looking at corpse of monkey and lamenting Sharnappa. This too was another excitement for them the way riots had been.
Sharnappa crawled at Raja. His strength was streaming out. “My Raja has gone. My Hero has gone. What am I to do now? He was a kid to me…” He cried.
Undetached mob too was moved by his wail.
But they had their own accusations. Someone said, “if so dear was this monkey to you why you neglected him?”
“Sires…” Said Sharnappa through tears, “I never allow him to move around unobserved. This evil…my urge to smoke made me unmindful of Raja…its me who should have died instead.”
There was nothing now that would entertain the mob when done with expressing sympathies. They had had their share of grief and pity and hatred about a slimy destitute on his misfortune. Night of entertainment was over…at least on the streets.
No sorrow ever can leave its perpetual marks. Sharnappa too was no exception. He gathered the bleeding corpse of Raja in his bag. Knowing there could be no one to join funeral procession of one monkey, with heavy steps, he started for his slum.
His kids those were waiting on him with hunger in their eyes, spotted him when he was on the curb under the waning moon. Their hopes were at crescendo thinking food was coming. Vyankya and Rankya ran at their father as he was close to the hut. To their surprise Raja was nowhere in sight. Their father’s face was contorted with mortal pains. He knelt down, held close his kids and said through a heart rending sob, “Raja is no more…”
Kanti too ran out beholding hopes for the evening. They were bound to shatter. The scene outside told her something evil had attacked them.
Sharnappa, seeing Kanti, broke in a wail. He unwound the rope and the bag and put corpse of Raja before the door of his hut. It now had become stiff. The blood was coagulated. It was not Raja…it was a mutilated corpse of a hideous little monster. Kanti and kids began weeping at the sight of Raja. Kanti beat her chest. She went hysterical. She understood relevance of Raja’s death.
Life ahead would be far more disastrous than the days of these riots.
The neighborhood had started gathering due to this commotion. Not that they didn’t feel bad on Raja’s death. They were so accustomed of his presence around. But now he was dead. No one had time enough to mourn. The days of deathly riots, where people had died like dogs, were just ended. It after all was a monkey who lay before them, dead.
They instantly thought of the burial. They even found a spot, very close to Sharnappa’s hut, where they would bury Raja. Enthusiastic young men even dug a hole to bury Raja before anyone from Sharnappa’s family would request anything. They pleaded Sharnappa to move ahead with the corpse, no matter whether he carries him close to his heart. Sharnappa had no choice. Spell of atmosphere was so strong. He placed corpse of Raja in the hole. Before others could shovel dirt on him Sharnappa collapsed. Vyankya came running in, “Father, my pant…. Give it me back…other boys have hurl stones at me today…take out that pant…give it me back…remove that earth, give me back my pant.”
He said and wept. His vehemence was so moving that someone bowed and ventured to remove bloodstained pant out of Raja’s torso and handed it over to Vyankya. Without minding how drenched in the blood was the pant, he wore it in an instant. In the meanwhile Raja was buried. Sharnappa was sobbing and so was Kanti. People had nothing much left to do so they left. Both sat beside the mound in utter silence. Kids were hungry. They were pestering Kanti for food. She snatched the bag and walked back to the hut. She poured all the rice and gram in a pot that was reddened in the blood of Raja.
She tried her best to cleanse Raja’s blood…
She could not.
In the reddish water was Raja.
She couldn’t muster her courage to put that rice in boiling water.
She just kept gazing at the leaping fire-tongues in delusion.
Rovella is a beautiful woman with a cold heart whom blames herself for an unfortunate old family secret that is literally ruining her life. This secret impedes a gorgeous woman from having happiness in her childhood, and throughout her life. Dark sec
Suspenseful and close to home, Rain of Deception 2 will leave you in Tears. Much like Part 1, this will shocking sequel will keep you on the edge of your fingertips.
