Narmada was lying down with the saline drip inserted into her veins and looked very weak. I sat beside her on a stool. I looked in turn at the saline bottle and Narmada’s face with death writ largely on it. Occasionally I looked out of the window located above her bed.
‘The skies are so dark. It is going to be a heavy downpour,’ I thought.
“News of our comrades dying due to illnesses is increasing nowadays.” I was repeatedly reminded of Deepak’s words.
‘I must make sure Narmada lives, at any cost.’
That was the only thought in my mind ever since Deepak entrusted Narmada to me and left. It is in such a situation that one wishes one believed in God. I would have at least prayed.
This is the second time that a patient was brought to me by ‘our people’. The first person had some eye problem. I was satisfied that I had shown him to a good doctor, got him treated well and sent him back. It was a chronic problem and I heard he was much better after treatment. He even wrote a letter to me. Maybe it was with that confidence that a person as ‘important’ as Narmada was sent to me. Otherwise how deep was my association with the Party* that they would be prompted to do so?
My elder brother had joined the Party when I was still a boy, so I cannot call it an ‘association’. One and a half years earlier, he sent word for me and talked with me. That is when I formed a sort of ‘association’ with the Party. I remember the sentences in elder brother’s letter – ‘Party cannot lose any single activist of its. And certainly not a comrade like Narmada, so do take care of her.’
The nurse came into the ward. She was checking up on patients and noting down their condition in their charts. Narmada was in the last bed. She checked if the drip was working properly, gave me a prescription and said,
“Bring these.”
“Now?” I asked looking at the drizzle outside the window.
“Yeah,” she said and left the room.
“Sudha,” I called softly.
Narmada said, “Um,” without opening her eyes.
“I am going to get some medicine. There is still time for the drip to be over.”
She moved her head a bit so as to nod her head.
I did not have an umbrella. I thought if I walk to the end of the verandah, the distance to the dispensary would not be much. The drizzle turned into a heavy downpour and though the distance was not much I got drenched. The shop owner said he did not have change for a five hundred rupee note. Though I pleaded with him that we have a patient admitted here and I would pay him later, he did not agree. I even asked him to keep that note, but he refused. So I had no choice but to return empty handed as it was time for the drip to be over.
I told the nurse and she disconnected the drip. “Did you bring the medicine?” asked the nurse.
“No, I am going now to get it” I said.
“Bring it immediately,” she gave the order and left.
“Sudha, do you have any change?” I asked anxiously.
“See if it is there in my handbag.” She pointed towards the hospital cupboard given to us.
I took out the handbag and started searching for some change.
“Didn’t you find it?”
“Looks like you have patented the note, I see only five hundred notes.” Narmada’s lips parted into something like a smile even in that weak condition.
Oh! There are so many zips in women’s handbags! Yeah, there is one smaller compartment with zip, let me search in this last one…
“Oh, this is so beautiful,” I blurted out as soon as I saw a tiny wooden casket with several engravings etched on it in the compartment.
“Ok, Sudha, I found the change, I am taking this hundred rupee note,” I quickly threw the bag into the cupboard and ran.
I was jumping down two or three steps at a time.
“Oh, Oh, Mister.” I heard some shouts.
Were they calling me?
Yes.
“Your patient is calling you.” Two persons standing at the door of our ward upstairs shouted to me.
I came back. Narmada opened her eyes slightly and was looking around.
“Did you call me?”
“Yes. I thought I shouted Sankar two or three times, but you could not hear, right?”
I shook my head.
“Are those hundred rupees from the wooden casket?”
“Yeah.”
“Please Sankar, don’t feel bad, but do not take that note. Sorry, would you please try somewhere else?”
For one second I looked at the rain that was turning into a torrent with each passing moment. I looked at Narmada’s eyes that she so forcefully opened even in such high fever. They did not leave me a choice.
“Okay,” I quickly thrust the hundred rupee note under Narmada’s pillow and ran down the stairs.
I got so drenched that I felt even my bones were wet. By the time I somehow managed to get some change and bought the medicine, I was told that the nurse had come twice inquiring for me.
‘Be prepared for some rebukes’, I told myself and went to call the nurse. I did not feel bad that the nurse scolded me, but I felt bad that there was inordinate delay in giving the medicine to Narmada. In fact, her entire responsibility made me fearful, tense and weighed me down.
Would I be able to save her or not?
Wiping my hair with a towel I thought, ‘Now even the sinus problem is bound to start.’
Narmada was sleeping but it was not a deep sleep. I slowly took out the hundred rupee note that I thrust under her pillow and put it back safely in the wooden casket inside her handbag.
‘The etchings on the casket are so beautiful! My sister Sudha loves such small artifacts. I named Narmada after my sister, so maybe their tastes also match,’ I thought looking at the casket.
*** *** ***
The day I was told that Narmada was out of danger, I was simply ecstatic! I thought I would definitely count this as one of the happiest moments in my life. Even Deepak is unavailable. With whom do I share this happiness? I told my neighbours that she was my cousin, so I can share it with them. But I can’t tell them about how satisfied I felt that I had done my share in saving a good person, a person who would be useful to the society.
But the real work would start only now. I firmly decided that I would not send back Narmada till she recovered completely. Deepak informed me that he would not be meeting us till 15 to 20 days and handed over Narmada’s charge mainly to me. Initially he wanted to cancel his work but after Narmada and I assured him that we will manage, he left. Narmada was adamant that he should go. “I am anyway out of work, why should you lose your work, Sankar would look after me,” she insisted.
While I made my plans about how to quickly put her on the path of recovery, I realised that she had her own plans.
“Doctor, ours is a big joint family. They cannot do without me, when I can I go back to my village?” She enquired the doctor.
The doctor said there was no question of her going back now and asked her to not even think of it. He admonished her in a friendly manner that it was due to the hardship the women face in the joint families that their condition is becoming so worse and told her that she would not be allowed to move for at least one month.
I completely agreed with the doctor but when I looked at Narmada’s face, I felt sorry for her. There was such a worried expression on it!
“Sankar, you know how important our work is, it is already one month since the fever started. Another month means…” said Narmada sitting on the hospital bench. It became a routine for us to sit on the bench for some time in the evenings.
I did not feel like saying anything. How can these people deny something which is so obvious? At the same time I am not qualified to assess the importance of their work. She was extremely weak and needed to recover. That’s the only thing that I understood. Also, that it was my responsibility to take care of her recovery.
I do not know what she thought after seeing my silence. But, she did not say anything after that. Some patients were sitting in the lawn and some were taking a walk. She sat looking at them. And I was looking at her….
How old was Narmada? Thirty? Thirty five? Forty? Or more? Or was she looking older because of her squad life? Could she be younger? She looked very pale and clearly very anemic. She lost most of her hair and her pony tail was hanging limply on her back. She did not have an extra ounce of fat anywhere. She must have been a lean person earlier too. And now she was looking frailer.
I took Narmada’s hands into mine and examined them. She had long, thin fingers. ‘The Fingers of an Artiste,’ I thought. The nails were so lifeless that I could not bear to look at them anymore and diverted my gaze.
Narmada was immersed in her own thoughts.
“Sankar, did you at least enquire when they would discharge me from the hospital?”
“No, I did not ask particularly and they too did not inform.”
I could fathom Narmada’s stubbornness only later. She finally convinced the doctor that she would not go back to the village and that she would go there only after she recovered. She told him that she would be staying with her younger brother that is me, and would visit the hospital regularly for the check-up. She even lied to him that she would not be able to recover fast by looking at the patients in the hospital daily.
She explained to me later, “Sankar, at least if we are in our room we can freely talk of ‘our’ things. If I have the energy I can read or write. Why should we waste so many days here, and why waste our money too?” She did not want me to have any misgivings about her decision.
I told her not to bother about the money factor.
“Oh, it’s not just that,” she replied.
What else could I say? I was certain that it would be better for her to stay in the hospital than in my bachelor room for at least a few more days. I was also concerned that she has to stay alone in the room when I go to my office. However she considered other factors.
So I nodded my assent.
*** *** ***
I dusted my room and arranged the things in my room neatly as I had never done before in my entire life. This caused a lot of mirth to my thirteen year old neighbour Poonam. Then, I brought Narmada back from the hospital to my room.
I did not have to attend office on Saturdays and Sundays. I already took few days off for Narmada’s sake. So, now I wanted to let her know that I would go back to the office as she had recovered a bit. But she was the one who brought up the topic of office and asked me all the details of my job – about my holidays, salary, how much of my salary was cut towards taxes etc.
Before she arrived, I hardly knew when I got up, when I rushed to the office and what I ate or when! My friends would tease me saying, ‘Not doing anything according to a plan is his plan.’ Now when I looked at myself, I was amazed and even impressed. I was doing all the housework – cooking and shopping – systematically so that she wasn’t inconvenienced in any way. I kept in mind what she should eat and drink and saw to it that she followed the routine. The title ‘absent-minded professor’ looked like something from my past life.
Before Narmada’s arrival, I had my lunch in the office canteen. But after she came home, I would come home for lunch even though the office is some distance away. I was assured that Poonam’s mother would enquire after her well-being when I was away.
After she was discharged from the hospital, Narmada was too weak even to move for at least a week to ten days. Sometimes she tried to read the newspaper. But she said that her head was reeling to even look at the letters and put it aside. When I was at home, we used to talk a bit.
I kept at her like the famous ‘determined Vikramaditya’ of the Chandamama stories to make her eat and drink. Poor thing, even she wanted to recover fast and tried to follow all the rules but it was not easy. The change started slowly.
One day, as usual I announced my entry with the shout, “YES, I am back,” but was dumbstruck after I entered the room.
“Sorry, I thought it was my room,” I apologized dramatically and turned back as if to leave. Narmada and Poonam burst out laughing and went on laughing for a long time. It was the first time I saw Narmada laughing so much after she arrived here.
‘She laughs so charmingly,’ I told myself. Anyway it assured me that she was well on the path to recovery. However I couldn’t understand how my room turned into something so splendid, a splendor it could never gain even after I did so much of cleaning and arranging. I did not even bother to understand.
Narmada and I talked about everything under the sun – international and domestic politics, about the squads, the Party, history…the list was simply inexhaustible. Narmada told me several aspects about the squad life, ones which I couldn’t even imagine. She told me so many tidbits about her squad members whom she loved so much, that I felt as if I had met them even though I had never laid my eyes on them. I came to know so many aspects of Party History too because of her.
One day after we had our meals, Narmada signed a MoU with me saying – “I will also tell you about the books I had read.” I almost jumped with joy, because I am too lazy to read books. ‘Comrades’ gave me many books to read but I read so few of them. Did Narmada know this secret? Who knows! However if anybody talks to me about books or narrates stories I am all ears. In fact, I like watching movies. But, what I like the best is spending time with blemishless people.
The time I spent with Narmada felt like a lucky jackpot for me. I suppressed the ‘guilty feeling’ that ‘poor she’ was with me only because she was ill and began cherishing every second I spent with her. My discourse about films got added to her conversations about literature.
She introduced several great books belonging to the genre of revolutionary literature to me. Starting from ‘Mother’ up to ‘Telangana Palle’*…oh, so many of them. However I was amazed to find out that she had not only read revolutionary literature but also innumerable classics in the world literature and also Hindi literature. When she told me about Anna Karenina, Crime and Punishment, Little Women, Nicholas Nickleby, Great Expectations, To Kill a Mocking Bird, Pather Panchali and several other books, I told her that I watched them all as films. She was excited and urged me to tell her everything about them.
After she recovered a bit, she always spent her time reading or writing something. As soon as I came home, she would stop whatever she was doing and talk with me. I felt hesitant about it and told her once.
“No, Sudha, you carry on with your work, it’s okay.”
I said that reluctantantly, because I felt strongly that she should spend time with me.
Narmada smiled gently and said, “No Sankar, you won’t be available later, and we have so many things to discuss.”
‘Who won’t be available, is it me or you, Madame?’ I thought to myself.
With time, we became so close that even when she pleaded, “Sankar, just wait for five minutes,” I could say, “No, no, you should listen to this first.”
Since I had no ‘secrets’ with Narmada I told her everything about my childhood, studies, college, job, the discrimination I faced due to our caste, about my mother, little sister… and even about my ‘first love’. She asked me a lot of questions about my elder brother. I told her what my mother told me about him. She listened raptly to it and enjoyed it a lot. I suppose he is a leader of some stature inside the Party now. However he was very naughty in his childhood.
I too felt the desire to know about Narmada. However some invisible boundary lines stopped all the questions that I wanted to put to her and left them unasked. Who knows what one can ask and cannot ask?! Whatever I knew about her was thanks to the newspapers.
It was clear that she wouldn’t tell me anything about her on her own. But she would make me talk a lot.
One day, she gave me a diary, shyly.
“There are some poems in this, jotted down just like that, not written seriously. If you feel like it, you can go through them,” she said and then added, “The poems in the second half were written by Jagdish.”
Thanks to the newspapers I knew that it was the name of her husband. That was the first time I heard her mentioning him.
I felt it was a great compliment for me and immediately I sat down and read all the poems in one go. She was not a great poet. But I liked the sincerity and the depth of the feelings in them. Some of them were just prose. I told her so. She smiled bashfully and took back the diary.
“I liked the poem in which you described how the squad reacts when it rains,” I told her. I did not tell her that she came across like a teenager and not like a senior leader in that.
Narmada looked surprised.
“You are the only one who liked this. Most of them liked the one I wrote on Sagar Anna*.”
I just smiled. ‘To each per his own taste.’
*** *** ***
After she recovered some more, I told her I can take her on a tour of the city as she had never visited it before.
“Is there a museum?” she asked.
“Yeah, there seems to be something like that, a small one,” I replied to indicate it was not something worth visiting.
“Whatever may be its size and shape, let’s visit that,” said she.
If we have to count on our fingers the number of people in this world who would visit a museum with such fondness, one of the fingers would definitely be Narmada. She told me how museums were saved during the Russian revolution and what Lenin told regarding their preservation. She vented her ire on the US ‘imperialists’ who neither had history nor understood it and destroyed the civilization and the museums in Iraq. She worried about the loss to humanity.
I was amused whenever she talked about Lenin, Mao and Marx as if they were her childhood buddies. I also found it strange that she used words like ‘enemy’, ‘people’, ‘class struggle’, ‘imperialists’ etc casually in her daily conversations.
The second place she asked me to take her were the second hand book stalls. I got tired standing for hours together both in the museum and these stalls. My goodness! The way she searched for books! Even the way she haggled was something to see!
“Oh, why haggle so much? Let’s pay, You selected them because you felt they are useful for you people, then why don’t we just buy them,” I urged her.
“No, no, wait, let’s ask them,” she would go on.
Finally she managed fairly well. I felt I would never be able to haggle like that in my life. I told her so.
“It’s the people’s money. So even I got used to it, slowly. They take photocopies of the books, so I know they don’t cost that much anyway.”
I told her I will take her to my favorite restaurant on my part. I also felt we should sit and relax for some time.
“I won’t come if the rates touch the sky,” she said simply and firmly.
“Oh, no, they are okay. What do you think I am? Would I be willing to go to such hi-tech ones?”
From the place we sat, we could gaze at a pond and a small garden. Since there were no rivers or sea in this city, we had to content ourselves by gazing at these. And that was what she did.
I handed over the menu card to her.
“Do you know Urdu?” she asked.
“No.” What a question to ask at this moment!
“You know, menus should always be read in Urdu,” said she going through the rates first and then coming to the items. We both went on extending the joke and laughed our heads off. She informed me, “Joke courtesy, Jagdish,” as if she had no habit of owning anything that was not hers.
She ordered some cheap items.
“Oh, why should you be so ideal? It was I who brought you here. Eat something which you had not tasted earlier,” I objected.
“It’s not a question of ideals, I have become so used to it,” she replied.
“Did you notice how the newspapers reported on the food our comrades ate during the talks with the government*?” she asked while eating.
“Don’t remind me. It was so disgusting. Only after seeing the interview given by your girls was I assured that a fitting reply was given. Oh, don’t tell me you are not eating properly because they reported so?” I expressed my doubt.
“No, no. Why should we be bothered by something they wrote maliciously? We always have our own standards. I just remembered that even journalists could be such hypocrites.”
She recalled fondly all the things that ‘her comrades’ liked to eat. However when I asked her what she liked to eat, she did not answer properly.
“Oh, give me a break, keep aside your ideals for some time. Be yourself when you talk and eat and don’t tire me by telling me about others always” I said.
She just laughed.
. “I would have talked in this manner even if any other of ‘our people’ were sitting here and behaved like you,” I said adamantly.
“No dear, I do know your persona,” she said looking at me as if I was a small kid.
There were some more occasions where I had the opportunity to observe how frugal and careful she was about money. She asked the rates of everything. I always loathed money or any discussion of money. I felt it is just needed for living in this world and nothing more. If I thought anybody needed it, I just gave it to them. That was my only touchstone. I never kept any accounts of my salary or what I spent it on. Luckily all my friends were like that too. Or maybe I made friends with only such persons.
I told her in the beginning itself that all the hospital and medical expenditure was hers. The rest would be taken care of by me. I put all the money in a box and handed it over to her. She tried to give me an account of what she bought or asked Poonam to buy for her. I was very impatient about it and either tried to divert the topic or just got up and left. On one or two occasions I even felt she was being too ‘old-fashioned’. I told her about the film ‘Brave heart’ and she was very enthusiastic to see it. But, after seeing the rates of the tickets in the theatre, she just said, “Let’s go back.” We returned without watching the film. Later I watched it alone. What sentiments would I have in the matter of films not to watch it just because she did not come –!
*** *** ***
I did not know how one month sped past. I was amazed when I realised that I spent all my time with Narmada excepting the time I spent in the office or the time I spent doing some work given by Narmada or Deepak. The blood relation I had with my elder brother was only nominal as I do not have any memories of spending time with him. So it was with Narmada that I became so close, whether as a brother or a sister. As the day of her departure drew closer, I became increasingly sad while she became all the more enthusiastic.
*** *** ***
Narmada was leaving the next day. She said she wanted to do some shopping for her squad. So I took her on my scooter and went about the shopping. I wanted to buy her something that would remain with her, as a memento from me. Whatever I asked her to buy, however much I tried, her only chant was, “No, No.”
She tried to assure me by saying, “If I need something I will definitely ask you to buy. Who else would I ask if not you?” But I was not satisfied.
She saw some shirt in a shop and said, “This would suit you so well, buy this.”
“It is not I who came for shopping.” I replied angrily. She laughed at that too.
I suddenly remembered the wooden casket and Sudha.
“Come, let me take you to a place you would love,” I waded through the streets on my scooter to the Emporium. My assessment was cent percent correct. She loved the place. She merrily roamed around the entire Emporium praising the art of the artistes. She looked at each and every one of the items in detail. She even fought with me saying, “Why did you not bring me here before?”
“Now buy anything you like here, take it as a keepsake from me,” I was obstinate.
She was astonished. “What would I do with these Sankar?” Then she lowered her voice and said in a conciliating tone, “I told you, we never keep even an extra piece of paper ‘there’, they feel heavy.”
I do not know what monster sat on my head at that moment –
I just blurted out, “But you kept that wooden casket.”
The very next second I was crestfallen. ‘Was that me? Is it the same Sankar who always fights and defends the privacy of individuals?’ I was so ashamed that I wanted the ground beneath to open up and eat me.
Narmada looked at me for a second as if she did not understand what I was saying. Then as if she remembered something she said, “Oh, that one,” and laughed.
“I am sorry Sudha, very sorry. I was just feeling hurt that you are not letting me buy you anything. Oh, please…sorry,” I said incoherently.
Narmada laughed cheerfully and assured me, “No, no, I don’t feel bad at all.”
My face had already turned red with shame and I cursed myself.
While we were returning from the emporium, she saw some Nepali people’s shops and remembered that she needed a shawl.
“Ok, buy this for me,” she asked and I bought a shawl for her.
However due to my foolish behavior, I lost the entire pleasure of buying something for her.
*** *** ***
Narmada was packing her bags. My cooking job was completed. I did not feel like doing anything else and sat on a chair just watching her and telling myself that these were the last hours. The very thought that when I come back from my office, this room would be empty without her made me so miserable. Poonam also expressed something similar and left.
I wanted to ask her if she would ever come visiting again. I also did not want her to come here again with some ailments or illnesses. If she is to come here on some other work, how would I know? Even if she knows, would she let me know? What if there is some encounter with the police and she….my thoughts were racing away and I just sat glumly looking at her, immersed in my melancholy.
The colour was back in Narmada’s face. She had recovered more than I had expected. However I could see that this was not sufficient. But what can I do? She felt she had to go. After going there, it would anyway not be the same…
“I somehow managed to pack all the things in two bags Sankar, I am so exhausted in my attempt to avoid a third one.”
She said she was exhausted but in fact her eyes were shining with a new glow. I was suddenly envious looking at her bonding with ‘her people’. Would she ever remember me or forget me completely in her busy schedule? If she had not been a Party person I would have definitely acted like a spoilt little brat and made her stay with me for some more days. On the other hand my own mind is telling me that such bonding developed only because she was a Party person.
I hung my head and kept thinking. Suddenly I looked at my watch and realized that it was long past her daily meal time.
‘My, why am I doing like this on the last day?’ I admonished myself and arranged the plates and vessels for us to eat.
“Sankar, come I will make some ‘tubers’ for you today.”
I told her once that mom pressed the cooked rice into big ‘tubers’ to make me and my little sister eat food. She seemed to have remembered that.
So, Narmada kept making ‘tubers’ out of the rice and I kept eating them happily. Every day when I forced her to eat the fruits or the nuts, she used to say, “Chitragupta in the skies above is making a note of all your ‘atrocities’ on me, you are bound to go to hell.” So now we tried to make an account of all my ‘sins’ in Chitragupta’s account book and laughed. She told me how she would pull my brother’s leg after she reached there by revealing all the naughty things he did when he was a child and made me double up with laughter.
We became exhausted after joking and laughing for such a long time and finally rested. As always she rested on the cot and I on the floor. But I could not sleep. I looked at her. She was also staring at the ceiling without even batting her eyelids. Every day she would tell me about some book she read, at this hour…
As if she heard what I thought, she turned towards me and asked, “So why are you not asking me to tell you a story tonight?”
“I thought you had already flown away to ‘your’ squad, that’s why,” I replied.
My voice must have betrayed a grouse, so she asked, “My squad?” and laughed.
I did not say anything. I was feeling so restless, what could I say?
“Shall I tell you the story of the little wooden casket?”
“Who is the author?” I asked absent-mindedly.
The way she laughed! Then it struck me. I immediately got up.
“Oh, please tell me, tell me,” I implored like a pampered child.
“It is not much of a story. I can finish it in three sentences. I used to have a best friend named Aparna during my childhood. When she went to Delhi she brought this as a gift for me. I used to have this habit of preserving everything that anybody gave me. This was the gift I liked the most. So I used to carry it with me always. Everybody at home knew about my fondness for this. However I did not take it with me when I joined the Party. I felt I was leaving even my mama and papa whom I loved so much, what can this mean to me?”
“So how did this end up with you again, now?”
“I did not bring it along with me. When I was released from jail and was again going underground, mama sent this to me, with that hundred rupee note inside. Now you give this casket to Sudha, as a keepsake from me.”
“Oh, you did not want to spend the note because mama gave it to you,” I said as if I understood.
She shook her head. I gave her a questioning look.
“Mama gives us party fund every month, so it is not just one note that we get from her. There used to be a worker named Lakshmi in my childhood. She used to work in our house as a domestic worker. Half of my upbringing was taken care of by her. It seems she gave that hundred rupee note to mama to send it to me.”
Narmada was gazing into the space barely aware of my presence.
“Lakshmi was like a member of our family. I was very attached to her. She had a lot of financial difficulties. Her husband was a drunkard. She had to take up the entire responsibility of running the family. She felt closeness and also a sense of empowerment in our house that she did not feel in the other houses she worked in. She would come to an agreement with my mother regarding her annual salary or new clothes by demanding what she wanted. If she ever had any doubts that mama bought something cheaper, she used to complain and get what she wanted. Poor soul, I wonder how she is doing now,” I could sense the nostalgic longing in her voice.
“Shall I tell you the truth?” I asked her.
“Um.”
“I thought that note had something to do with Jagdish, maybe connected to your first meeting or something of that sort.”
“No, no, even he is a Party activist. Why would we ever preserve our own money Sankar? We are fighting for a society with no money. This money is like waste paper for us, how can we present this to each other? No,” she suddenly came out of her trance and began talking agitatedly. She was about to explain more, but I stopped her saying,
“Don’t, I understand.”
Both of us were silent for some time. However my doubt was not cleared.
“So many people must have gifted you so many things, given so much of money in all these years. But you did not preserve all of those. It was you who said in the Emporium that every extra thing feels heavy ‘there’ and all that stuff….”
Narmada got up and sat dangling her feet from the cot. She took the wooden casket out of her purse and stroked it gently. I sat looking at her waiting for her answer.
“Sankar, it is not that I do not wish to preserve those gifts. It is simply because we are not in a position to do so at present. Anyway, let us leave that aside, it is not because of my attachment with Lakshmi that I preserved it. Attachments are always there, deep bonds with so many people, that fill your heart with such bliss…with you too now…” she paused.
My heart missed a beat. A lump formed in my throat. I forced back the tears from my eyes.
Narmada paused as if to pull herself together and took a deep breath.
“Whatever may have been Lakhsmi’s psychological attachment with our family, economically, socially and caste wise it was always a relation where we were always at the giving end and she at the receiving end, was it not? She may have demanded some things and got them, we may have given her so many things affectionately, but nobody ever forgot where the lines were drawn. All this turned upside down only after I joined the Party. For the first time in our lives, she was at the giving end and I at the receiving end.”
“……….”
“Sankar! See her confidence and belief that this Party was theirs that of the poor people, that it is for the poor people…”
Narmada’s voice quivered.
The emotion in her voice and face traveled through the air and gently touched me. A slight quiver went up my spine too.
Narmada clasped the wooden casket tightly with her ‘Artiste’s Fingers’ as if to say “If at all there is something to be remembered, something to be preserved as a memento by me or the Party, it should be this…”
.
[Dedicated to Martyr Comrade Sankar, Member of Anantapur District Committee and RSU State leader. The memory of his boundless affection makes me tearful to this day]
Published in December 2008 issue of Arunatara in the name of Sudhakar
* Party – The CPI (Maoist)
* Telangana Palle (The Telangana Village) – a novella written by the revolutionary Koumudi. He was a State level leader who was killed in a fake encounter in AP (along with his spouse Comrade Suguna) in 2003.
* Anna – Elder Brother * Reference to the talks held between CPI (Maoist), CPI (ML) Janasakthi on one side and the AP government on the other. Some newspapers tried to pry on what the revolutionaries ate and reported about it in an offensive manner. When the women comrades accompanying the CPI (Maoist) leaders were interviewed and asked about joining the ‘mainstream’ after seeing the comforts in the city, they replied by referring to the meager food eaten by the Chenchu Adivasis in Nallamala and said they would never leave the struggle.
