Dreams Unfulfilled; English Short Story; Author: Deepak Budki; Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat.

 Dreams Unfulfilled; English Short Story

 Author: Deepak Budki

 Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat 

Rajni shifted to Delhi with her husband with the hope that she would be able to enforce her dominance upon him but she failed. She actually wanted to be at a place where there would be none of her relatives or acquaintances around. The reason for this abnormal attitude was not unfounded. The colour of her skin was, unfortunately, jet black and the sorriest part of it was that those around her were all fair in complexion and widely famed for this distinguishing feature. Because of this shortcoming, she faced serious antipathy right from her childhood for none of her faults. Rajni was compelled to tolerate severe humiliation every passing moment even without any direct reference to it. She had now grown almost accustomed to it and didn’t utter even a word of protest though she thought once in a while, “What’s my fault? God has created me like that. Why do people hate me? In my childhood, my parents felt averse to me. In school my class fellows maintained distance and now I’m craving for the love of my husband.”

It is said marriages are settled in heaven and no wisdom or cleverness whatsoever can alter these settlements but it cannot also be denied if a woman of any position is unable to bear the insult of any kind arising out of such wedlock she fights it tooth and nail.  She is ready to take cudgels with the whole world before any further damage is done. Her mental agony was such that If her parents were alive today she would catch them by the collar and ask them with all her force, “Why did you give me in marriage to such a fine-looking person, whose face is the envy of even the angels? Why didn’t you select a person of average looks like me so that I would not face desperation like this? It is because of you that my life has become hell.”  

Her father had settled her marriage in her infancy with the son of his friend and only after a few months, the marriage was solemnized. Child marriages were common in those days. Everyone who heard was shocked to think about this mismatch -- a boy white as snow was hitched to a jet-black girl. Those days as per tradition parents would settle marriages of their sons and daughters themselves and the children especially girls did not have any say whatsoever even though it concerned their future.  Before marriage neither the groom nor the bride was allowed to see the partner, hence the question of raising an objection did not arise. Moreover, they used to be too young to understand the purpose of marriage. It was many years after the marriage that they came to terms with each other as husband and wife. Initially, Rajni and Raghunath, unaware of what had befallen them, played games together, accompanied each other to market, and enjoyed their childhood pranks merrily knowing little they were wedded as life partners. With time when they attained maturity, Raghunath realized that he was compelled to live his entire life in the future with this pitchy girl, it was in truth a shock of his life. He decided to maintain a constant distance from Rajni because he could never accept her as his wife. Both of them had fallen into such a serious dilemma that they could neither agree nor disagree with the situation. Finding no way out they quietly resolved to carry the burden of each other for the rest of their lives.

Having endured the humiliation for a pretty long time, Rajni thought that the only way out of the situation was to move permanently to some other place, away from her ill-tempered mother-in-law who taunted her at her every step as also her escapist father-in-law who chose to ignore his home and instead go to the sacred temple atop the hill to take shelter under the feet of Mother Goddess, apart from her brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law who invariably coerced her into submission.  One day she said to Raghunath, “What’s the benefit of your doing MA, BT and serving here for a pittance? Your salary, a mere one hundred and fifty rupees does not suffice even the family expenditures not to speak of any savings. My brother-in-law in Delhi is only BA and BT and is getting a salary of Five Hundred per month from his job in a school besides Three Hundred from private tuition. He enjoys a comfortable life.”

“You are right. I too have been thinking of a change but cannot find a way out. what to do with such a large family?”

“That’s no issue. Your dad is here. He should be able to manage it. Your brothers will also earn sooner or later. Moreover, we’ll send them some money regularly.”

The suggestion seemed sound and workable. Raghunath was also worried about the daily bickering at home. Without thinking much he agreed. After a couple of weeks, they packed their bags and in no time landed in Delhi.

On reaching Delhi Rajni felt as if she had been set free from life imprisonment.  When the cage of a confined bird is opened all of a sudden it goes crazy, spreads its wings all at once and with nervous excitement escapes from the cage and flies higher and higher in the vast skies. While basking in the glory of freedom it neither feels hungry nor weary so much so it forgets that the next moment it may fall prey to a hunter's arrow.

Sometimes a person ridden with inferiority and insecurity takes a ruinous self-destructive route which destroys his or her established world. Rajni had thought by shifting to Delhi she would be able to get her husband under her thumb for the fulfilment of her dreams but the results proved contrary to her aspirations. Raghunath was already averse to her and this change of environment and forced isolation did not in any way help her to bring him physically closer. His aversion to her black colour could not be washed away, neither with time nor with isolation in a city full of strangers. Rajni, still optimistic, acted as a dutiful Hindu wife with a strong conviction that her husband would ultimately come back and give her the rightful place as a wife sooner or later. The reason for this firm belief, she thought, was that he had not divorced her all these years despite the distaste he had for her.

When a woman is not sexually satisfied with her husband, she either tries to find substitutes or seeks refuge in God. Rajni belonged to the latter category. She visited many reputed holy men and women for the redressal of her problems but couldn't find any immediate remedy. However she was satisfied on one count, she had succeeded in escaping the pungent taunts of her mother-in-law and the neglect of her father-in-law. She had opted for a different environment away from her so-called nears and dears where she was busy making her own little world. Her creative abilities also came to the fore. She engaged herself in art and crafts and taught it to some girls in the neighbourhood. Rajni started taking further strides to actualize her dreams. Slowly her circle of friends began to increase. Her husband was following a very busy schedule. He would leave for his job early in the morning and return late in the evening because half of his time would be wasted on DTC buses. Thus there was nobody to stop her or keep watch on her movements during the day. One thing she ensured was that she would be at her home before her husband returned from his work.

The city was quite unknown to both of them and everyone was a stranger. Both of them in fact liked to get lost in this unknown world with no inhibitions of any kind. There were neither prohibitions from parents nor fear of relatives and acquaintances. On one hand, Rajni steadily built up a large network of friends and new acquaintances while on the other, Raghunath engaged himself in activities that kept him busy till late into the night. Rajni followed a free schedule of calling on new friends’ houses along with casual visits to her sister who was, in fact, instrumental in her shifting to Delhi.

Raghunath felt at the top of the world as soon as he got a teaching job in a Delhi School. He began flying in the free open air with nobody around to curb his movements and freedom. Every day, new friends and acquaintances entered his circle. Soon he was hooked with friends addicted to wine and women that lured him to such parties frequently. As is common with such associations, he fell headlong into these evils and before long it became his routine visiting bars and prostitution. It meant that whatever he earned was almost totally spent on his extravagance. His concern for his original home, parents and kin all evaporated and became things of the remote past.

Not long after Raghunath had joined his new job he got associated with a lady teacher Purnima Mehta, a white-complexioned Punjabi young woman. They met usually on the bus while they travelled to school and soon the association turned into courtship. Raghunath fell headlong into this relationship with Purnima because he wanted to fill the vacuum of his married life. Both of them took no time to come close to each other and before they would realize its consequence it was too late. It was a strange fire of emotions that overshadowed all other affiliations. At home, the behaviour of Raghunath changed altogether.  He came as a guest, stayed as a stranger, and left as a wayfarer. His aversion for Rajni seemed to deepen further day after day. In her, he saw a ferocious demoness that was always ready to devour him. By the time she came to know about the cause of his strange behaviour, things had gone out of her hands. She knew how complicated it had become. It was not easy to take cudgels with other women, especially professional prostitutes but still, Rajni took courage and wreaked havoc in Purnima's home as well as in the office by speaking all ugly to her in the presence of her friends and colleagues. Regarding the prostitutes, she didn’t dare to face them as they were organized and lived in a hostile environment.

Unconcerned and unaware of it all Raghunath was engrossed in his own world. Such a wholehearted engagement makes one blind to the extent of ruin. Raghunath had caught a dreaded sexually transmitted disease at some prostitute house which was revealed to him a few years later. Even high-class specialized treatment didn’t help him as his condition turned for the worse.  After it was confirmed that he would have to live the remaining days of his life in the same condition, he introspected, “What’s the fun of living this hell of a life? If I’m not to live for ten years, let it be only for ten days!” So instead of atoning and becoming repentant, he passed the remaining days of his life fearlessly upholding his usual routine. His wife continued grieving, beating her chest and shedding tears of grief but Raghunath remained carefree as ever.

To gain sympathy, Rajni tried to fall back upon her relatives back home who she had abandoned long back. None of them showed any adequate sympathy as they couldn't forget the day when she had absconded along with her husband and forsaken her home and parents-in-law in deplorable condition never to look back. Actually, those who would have still sympathized with her were already dead while those who were there had withdrawn forever their interest and fellow feelings from their minds for her. Regarding the couple's relationship as husband and wife, it had already reduced to just for namesake devoid of any emotional bondage.

Raghunath tried to keep himself tangled so deeply in his illicit preoccupations that he would brush aside even his final knock of death. Nothing can be said how much he succeeded in his plans but the expected call was received by him soon. He breathed his last at his home in the presence of his wife Rajni without any obvious struggle with death. It was about ten years before he would have put in his papers for retirement.

Raghunath had really planned his death. In his Will, which he seemed to have written with a very cool mind, he had declared his wife Rajni eligible for his pension and other benefits from the Government and for his other savings and assets he had willed for the formation of a Trust under the control of the Government for the poor and needy children of the school where he last worked.

“I, Raghunath Sapru, son of Jagan Nath Sapru, resident of 53/C Tagore Garden, New Delhi, do solemnly declare that my marriage with Smt Rajni Sapru has been the greatest tragedy of my life. Our married life has permanently been full of severe discord still I don’t know why I couldn't find an escape from it. My wife Rajni Sapru lacks education and rational thinking so she is liable to be lured into taking wrong decisions after I am gone. Many hawks surround her. Therefore, I declare her eligible only for the family pension, gratuity and other incidental benefits from the government after my death. Since she has no children of her own, this money will be sufficient for her maintenance, if spent prudently. Regarding my other assets like savings in the form of Cash Certificates, FDRs and bank accounts besides other fixed assets (complete details of which are listed and attached), I wish a trust be constituted after my death with three members (Director Education Officer Delhi, Principal and Vice-Principal of the school where I worked for the last fifteen years), and the full proceeds of the aforesaid assets are deposited in a bank account in the name of this trust. The yearly interest earned by this money should be paid to the three most deserving students of the school as a scholarship every year. ….  (S/d Raghunath Sapru )"

By writing this Will Raghunath had tried to make up for all the misdoings of his life but this change of heart can be attributed to his condition of despair. When it was clear to him that his days were numbered he thought of doing something good before he received the final call from above. On the contrary, Rajni tried to gain sympathy from her relatives on her husband’s death which she got. Relatives far and near gathered around her expectantly. They wanted to make hay while the sun shines. Subsequently, however, when they learned about the Will of Raghunath that he had given away all his valuable assets including cash savings to a Trust instead of Rajni they immediately withdrew and changed their stand. They thought, "There was no purpose in showering any sympathy for her when she was deprived of her right on the valuable property in Delhi left by her husband.” The result was Rajni found no place to take refuge except at her sister's house where she could hardly expect cold-shouldering.

The life of this couple raised many an eyebrow for several years till dust gathered over their names forever. Everybody would compare the two, their virtues and their vices. They often asked themselves, "Who was right and who was wrong? Who was to blame for the mess? And lastly, who lived a more fulfilling life?....... Raghunath, who escaped the life of pain and pallor earlier than expected or Rajni who lived unmindful of pain and pleasure up to the ripe age of eighty-two?"

I have not been able to find the appropriate answer to this million-dollar question.

 

                                                              *****

Justice Spelled Out At Last; English Short Story: Author: Deepak Budki; Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat

Justice Spelled Out At Last; English Short Story

  Author: Deepak Budki

 Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat

Immediately after the death of their parents in a fatal accident, the hostility between the brothers surfaced in the open. The whole edifice fell like a house of cards. Thank God their only sister had been married earlier otherwise, she would have suffered the most. A common kitchen served the joint family till the parents were alive. All earning brothers would place their salaries in the hands of their mother on the very first day of the month. Earlier the mother used to feel as much contented when her husband was the sole bread earner of the family as she felt now when all her sons except one were earning and filling the coffers of the family. But this delight and satiation were short-lived. It ended the very day when both their parents died in a fatal road accident as their car skidded on a hilly road while negotiating a sharp curve.

Until next Friday all went well as the whole household was in a state of mourning. The same day a formal meeting of all brothers was arranged after sunset to talk about the future course of action due to changed circumstances. The discussion was initiated by the eldest well-to-do brother, Dr Ilyas Wani, who was a Reader at the local university. As is common among teachers, both Dr Ilyas and his wife were very miserly and would avoid any extra expenditure beyond the bare minimum. They were selfish too. God also didn’t treat them kindly. He denied them the joy of having a child of their own though more than a decade had passed since they had got married.

Dr Wani started thus, “Brothers, I would like to be straightforward and unambiguous today. You know in modern times nuclear families are the in thing and everybody wants to live separately without interference by others. Times have changed a lot. Everyone has his own priorities in life. A person's own problems are so complicated that he cannot afford to take responsibility for others. So I suggest that we divide our heredity property immediately after arriving at a consensus.”

All the brothers agreed sheepishly. Second brother Showkat Wani, who was an Engineer in State Public Works Department, was eagerly waiting for this opportunity for a long time. He had always cherished a dream of owning a luxurious comfortable house with modern facilities. To this end, he would quietly put aside all the extra money he was able to earn in the shape of bribes and commissions during his service. So he quickly responded, “Dear brothers, our parents have left this ten-room house, bank deposits worth fifty thousand rupees and some gold ornaments. I suggest ornaments and proceeds of the fixed deposits be given to the sister. Married brothers should be apportioned three rooms each while one large room which is double the size of others is kept reserved for unmarried Asghar.”

“What a pity! How is it you propose only one room for Asghar! Is he not our brother?” the third brother, Javed Wani spoke out in favor of Aghar who was the youngest of all. Javed had hardly passed the matriculation examination after facing many failures his father arranged a shop for him by paying a premium of a lakh of rupees in the busy market. Javed started a readymade garments shop there and was satisfied with his earnings because the expenses for his family comprising two kids and a wife were met.”

“You see, as yet Asghar is unable to earn anything. We’ll have to take care of his education and other expenses till he is ready for a job. Nobody knows how many years he will still take to stand on his own feet.” Showkat Wani replied in all seriousness.

Asghar Wani was listening to the conversation quietly. He preferred to be silent in the situation as any interjection by him could invite trouble. Asghar had been admitted to a college about two months back. He was very good in studies but it would take him not less than three years to complete his graduation, and thereafter some more time to find out a job. Nobody could say how long it would take him to be on his own. Moreover, he had developed a relationship with Parveen, a girl in the neighbourhood who was eagerly waiting to get married to him. She had been able to win the hearts of his parents but with their passing away she found it difficult to enter their house even. Rarely would she get a chance to meet her beloved Asghar, sometimes while going to school or while going to the market. She would ask him about his welfare and nothing more. But now for the last few days, she too cold-shouldered him.

The discussion did not end with the division of their house only but continued with what to do with Asghar and how to finance his studies and daily expenses.

“About the maintenance of Asghar, I suggest all of us should jointly bear his responsibility till at least he completes his graduation and is able to find a job. It would be proper that Asghar stays with each brother for a year by rotation and he would take his responsibility during that year. The arrangements will continue till he is able to earn to maintain himself independently.”

The suggestion seemed reasonable so everyone agreed but in heart of hearts, Asghar was deeply traumatized. Something like an earthquake was shaking him from the inside. The demise of his parents had made him a pauper in his own house. He would frequently shed tears like torrential rains in his solitude and think why was he reduced to such a condition of helplessness. He felt he was living the life of a beggar who had to extend his needy hands for the necessities of life and that too in front of his own kith and kin who regarded him as a liability.

With passing days he began reconciling little by little with the changed circumstances and concentrated more on his studies which, he thought, could prove to be the only authentic support to his otherwise dissipated life. While he was trying to come to terms with his new life he had to face another shock that shook the very foundations of his existence. One day Parveen revealed to him that she had been engaged to a doctor and was going to be married next month. She had tried her best to bring her parents around to her choice of Asghar but they refused flatly on the pretext that Asghar had been deserted and emasculated by his brothers who had grabbed his share of the ancestral property. They added that handing her over to Asghar in marriage was no less than throwing her into a ditch. Parveen had tearfully expressed her willingness to her parents that she was ready to spend her life with Asghar in whatever condition he might keep her but they did not yield to her beseeching and she had to ultimately submit before their wishes. Asghar reckoned in deep distress that not only his nears and dears but God as well was playing false with him under a conspiracy.

However, he showed exemplary courage in facing misfortunes and somehow passed the graduation examination whereafter he decided not to pursue further education. Asghar felt things slowly easing for him and therefore decided to do some business in order to stand on his own legs. This would also relieve him from dependence on his brothers. On the advice of his friend Imran, Asghar accompanied him to peddle Kashmir Shawls and other embroidered goods in Delhi and Kolkata. A number of such hucksters from Kashmir can be seen during winter in the streets of Delhi, Kolkata, Mumbai and other cities of India selling handicrafts from Kashmir at reasonable prices.

His brothers were very much pleased with his going away since it relieved them of his burden. Meanwhile, Showkat Wani, the engineer, sold his portion of the house to his elder brother and constructed a grand bungalow using his illegal earnings accumulated over the years. On the other hand, their sister never looked back after collecting her share from the brothers. Slowly the siblings scattered like beads from a broken string got engrossed with their own life and rarely came across each other.

Asghar had to stay in Delhi with his friend for a few days before he could proceed to Kolkata. One day while he was casually walking near the Andhra Bhawan his eyes fell on some people fighting among themselves. Two groups of people of rival political parties were engaged in the most deplorable fight with each other while one man lay injured on the footpath bleeding profusely. His clothes had been torn to pieces and he was unconscious. Nobody in the gathering cared to help him get up or take him to the hospital for treatment.  Taking pity on his condition Asghar went near him and tried to bring him back to a conscious state. Asghar cut a piece of his torn shirt and tied it to the bleeding wound on his head. He also purchased a bottle of cold water from a nearby stall and made him drink some water till he found him fit to be carried to a hospital. Then he hired an auto-rickshaw and took him to the nearest hospital where his wounds were dressed and he was given some medication. After taking a rest for a couple of hours he was allowed to go back to the Bhawan as he had regained his consciousness fully. Asghar escorted him back to Andhra Bhawan. Now his condition was stable and the atmosphere around Andhra Bhawan had also returned to normal. He took Asghar directly to the dining hall and ordered coffee.

“Brother, my name is Salim Ansari. I’ve been recently elected to the Parliament from Andhra Pradesh. I find no words to thank you for saving my life. I would have bled to death if you had not attended to me in time. Actually, I am suffering from high blood pressure and diabetes so the risk was greater.”

Asghar was astonished to notice how respectable people like Members of Parliament fight like street dogs for political gains. Hearing Saleem Ansari he too shuddered with the thought that the latter would have died on the footpath if he had not helped him in time. He replied, “You don't have to thank me. I simply did my duty as a human being.”

“That’s your greatness! May I know something about you?” 

“My name is Asghar Wani. I am a hawker from Kashmir, sell Kashmir Shawls and other embroidered items here.”

“You seem to be well educated?”

“Yeah, I’ve recently passed my graduation in the first division but due to poor financial conditions couldn't continue further.”

Salim Ansari became curious to know more about him and probed further. In reply, Asghar told him briefly all about himself and the misfortunes he had to face in the past. Salim Ansari was very much moved and felt deep sympathy for him. In order to console him, Ansari said, “These days we are facing severe political turmoil. Many people are leaving the ruling political party and joining other parties. They are driving me hard to switch over to their faction but I don't agree as I consider it disloyalty. Since I refused them so they misbehaved with me. If God wishes and our party proves the majority, our good days will return. As regards the beating episode, such things do happen in public life.”

“I beg to disagree with you on this count. Is it advisable to risk precious life for the sake of a petty power? You don't know what pitiable condition you were in lying on the footpath. If your wound had been deeper or you had bled for some time more you would not have been talking to me here this time.”

“You are right but these are the demands of political life. We have to be ready to face such situations boldly. We can't avoid such confrontations.”

After a while, Asghar stood up, offered his hand for a handshake and asked permission from Saleem Ansari to leave. His parting words were, “That’s your choice in life, you may do as you like, let me leave now!”

“All right, but remember one thing, I’m leaving for Hyderabad tomorrow and will return after a week. Be sure to meet me when I return. Let us see how things shape up!” Having said so he too stood up and not only shook hands with Asghar heartily but also hugged him warmly.

Coming out of Andhra Bhawan, Asghar Wani began feeling on cloud nine. His joy knew no bounds but the very next moment he felt disillusioned. He thought with himself that Salim Ansari was a politician and politicians are not reliable, they show you many rosy pictures but ditch you at the time you need them most. Immediately the balloon of his high hopes burst off and dashed to the ground.

During the ensuing week, everything changed dramatically. On one hand, Asghar reached Kolkata to pursue his newly adopted trade while on the other Salim Ansari became Deputy Minister in the Central Cabinet. Though Asghar had forgotten the episode yet his sixth sense prompted him to meet Salim Ansari in Delhi. He reluctantly reached Delhi two days late and did not expect a positive response from the latter. Despite his bewilderment, he reached Andhra Bhawan on the ninth day. It was Sunday. He was informed at the reception that Salim Ansari has been appointed Deputy Minister of Health and Family Welfare and has been allotted Bungalow Number 15 on Ashoka Road where he lives now. Asghar felt a strange hesitation in meeting him. He thought to himself, "These politicians are like veritable chameleons. God knows how he would treat me now. Once they get a status their minds soar high in the skies. I doubt whether he would recognize me or not.

“Still there’s no harm in meeting him, maybe it turns out a good meeting!” Some voice from inside came alive to wake him from his despair. Immediately he went to meet Salim Ansari at his residence and to his utter astonishment, he found him waiting.

“Come on Asghar! Where were you all these days? You kept me waiting for so long. I told you to meet me in a week.”

“Sir, I had gone to Kolkata in connection with hawking handicrafts. I thought of earning some money before you return. I reached here just today morning.”

“Okay, it’s fine. You must have heard that I’ve been appointed a Deputy Minister.”

“Yes Sir! Accept my hearty congratulations.”

“But I think it is you who deserves congratulations. Had you not saved my life on that day how could I have held this position? Anyway, all is well that ends well!”

“Sir, you are putting me to shame. Who am I to save anyone's life? It was all willed by God and I became his tool.”

“That's your humility. It’s fine. Now listen to what I say. I treat you as a dear and sincere friend of mine capable to hold my trust and confidence. I intend to appoint you as my Personal Assistant responsible to maintain my personal communications, fixing appointments, and maintaining public relations on my behalf.”

Asghar did not believe his ears. He wanted to jump with excitement but preferred to remain calm. He replied in a humble tone,” Sir, I am very grateful to you for the confidence you are showing in me. I will do as you direct me, Sir!”

The next day Asghar took charge in the office and completed all the required formalities. The Personal Secretary to the Minister explained to him all about the nature of his job saying that he will soon pick up the niceties of his work.

Salim Ansari not only accommodated him in his own Bungalow but also made him part of his household. He stayed in Delhi alone and would occasionally bring his family from Hyderabad. In return, Asghar performed the job assigned to him with utmost trust and sincerity. It looked as if Asghar and Salim were real brothers brought up together right from early childhood.

The world of Asghar changed completely but he didn't forget the pain he had undergone in the past. He remained focused on his objectives to make his life comfortable for the future. He completed his MBA from Indira Gandhi National Open University in two years' time which further opened doors of his progress rapidly.

Back home in Kashmir, his relatives heard about him and got keenly interested in knowing more and more about him and his growth beyond their expectations. His brothers wanted to patch up differences and make up for their past misdoings with him but he did not respond favourably. His sisters-in-law specifically tried to net him in matrimonial alliance with their kin but he showed no interest. He could not forget the day when his parents died and his brothers had lost no time to raise partitions in the ancestral house so much so they robbed him of his due rights in the ancestral property. What had pained him the most was his reduction to beggary in his own house where he had to bear the nudges and hostile facial expressions of his sisters-in-law and brothers alike for his legitimate daily needs. The behavior of his only sister was much worse for she never tried to ask about his welfare after she parted with a sizeable share of her parents’ savings.

In total contrast, Salim Ansari was sent by God as an angel to him. He filled in the vacuum of both father and mother in his life, especially in the most insecure period when he was facing an absolute void of despair around him. Ansari looked after his needs and aspirations and made him stand with his head high in this crooked world. Moreover, he arranged his marriage with a pretty local girl belonging to an affluent family who was a lecturer in a college. In the marriage, none of his relations or friends were invited except of course Imran, who had stood by him during adversity.

Time marched on with incredible speed. One fine morning Imran informed Asghar on the phone that his eldest brother Prof Ilyas Wani has been diagnosed with cancer. The doctors in the hospital had advised him to specialized treatment and surgery in Delhi preferably in AIIMS because treatment in a good private hospital would cost him at least ten lakh rupees which would be far beyond his reach. Imran further informed him that his brother was writhing in pain and his appointment for surgery at AIIMS has been fixed after one month as there were many such cases waiting for similar treatment but the long wait will further deteriorate his condition.

Everyone advised his brother and sister-in-law to contact Asghar in Delhi who should be able to manage his appointment in AIIMS immediately. Professor's wife entreated her husband to forget the past and contact Asghar for help. She wanted her husband to borrow time from Death as she could see the writing on the wall. But he flatly refused saying how would he ask help from Asghar whom he had deserted and damned most cruelly at the time of need. He further added that he would not be able to face Asghar as he considered himself a criminal who denied his younger brother his legitimate right and care, being the eldest brother in the family on whom such responsibility devolved after the parents.

Asghar did not sleep for the whole night. He found that his own blood was calling him for help and he could not be so heartless as to refuse the call. Professor had no doubt been harsh to him when Asghar needed his support but it was not advisable to pay him back in the same coin. "Maybe God is testing me and my prudence, as also my capabilities of generosity. God wants all of us to be kind and helpful. If I refuse I should be committing a grave offence." Asghar had a dialogue with his conscience and in the end was convinced that he should extend a helping hand.

The next morning, he took a recommendation letter from the Minister to the Head of the Institute for the immediate admission of Prof Ilyas on priority. He personally met the doctors concerned and further arranged for the airlift of the patient the same day. All tests were conducted on the patient expeditiously and the following week he was operated on for a tumour in his stomach. After a long time, he gained consciousness and found Asghar standing in his front. His eyes became moist with remorse and repentance. His daughters too were standing in attendance and he understood that Asghar had secured their life too. It was the same Asgar whose life was made insecure by him through his malevolent actions. Professor Ilyas was torn apart by his inner contradictions but maintained calm on the surface.

Gathering courage at last he called Asghar beside him and confessed in a trembling voice, “Asghar, my dear younger brother, the truth is that I’m your real culprit because I was the eldest in the family and should have been more discreet and protective. I know I’m not even worthy of pardon, yet I ask you to please forgive me if you can.”

 

*****

All Of A Sudden: English Short Story; Author: Deepak Budki; Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat.

All Of A Sudden; English Short Story

 Author: Deepak Budki

 Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat.

“What's the matter? There’s an air of mysterious gloom throughout the campus?”, She enquired from her friend as soon as she stepped off the bus.

“Don’t you know anything?”

The whole atmosphere radiated a state of sorrow and deep distress.

“No, I don’t!”

“Yesterday, Tasneem was drowned in the Ahrabal waterfall while on an excursion.”

“Oh, my God? I can’t believe it. ”

In no time both the girls were a personification of grief. They continued walking towards the most beautiful central bloc of the university campus looking around hopefully with the belief that they may find her hidden somewhere. It was hard to believe that Tasneem, their dear friend, had departed forever.

Tasneem was engaged in research on 'Feminism in Urdu Literature' after she had passed her Master’s degree with distinction. She had set her goals in life not knowing that Death had something else in store for her.

“Ah! Why did God call her back so soon?  She was such a pretty, virtuous, devout and hardworking girl. Sometimes I doubt the justice of Almighty!” The first girl continued her conversation with tearful eyes.

“Yeah dear, it is one of the riddles that man has not been able to solve. I feel there is more injustice than justice in the house of God.”

“Poor girl, how many colourful dreams had she harboured in her life?..... Shall do this....shall do that! Shall work for the betterment of society. Shall ensure women’s empowerment from present abject helplessness and servility. Shall dedicate my whole life to the uplift of women. Shall struggle for the improvement of human values!..... It seemed like Prophet Khizr had appropriated for her everlasting life, never to end! Now see, she is no more!! These are the ways of God!” 

Today this huge campus, situated on the banks of the famous Dal Lake, spanning hundreds of acres of land and dotted everywhere with numerous apple trees, was presenting a depressing and cheerless sight. On the other hand, during the months of April and May, these trees are full of colourful blossoms of apple and the whole atmosphere is filled with wonderful romantic ambience, gloss and colour. Beautifully decked-up young girls move about on the campus further enhancing its natural beauty. At times one could also see an amorous air force pilot in his helicopter hovering over clusters of belles at a convenient height watching these fairies descend from heaven. With his right hand, he would wave at some of them and then fly away with a dash leaving the girls laughing and giggling. But today the campus presented a totally devastated look.

“Oh God, How Rizwan would be going through?  He loved her so passionately,” the first girl spoke again.

“What would he feel? He was very much there with her. The coward simply watched her drowning despite the fact that he had got an award in swimming last year. Tasneem cried for help and waved her hands vigorously all through while she was struggling to save herself amid the fast-flowing water. That stupid fellow could not muster enough courage to jump into the water to save her.” 

“He didn’t do anything! That’s truly strange of him!” she continued, “I was not feeling well yesterday so didn’t go for the picnic. You must have watched everything till the end.”

“Yes, I was there. I saw it happen all with my own unfortunate eyes.” The other girl had her voice choked with emotion.

“Maybe that was destined to happen and the will of God!” the first girl expressed her sympathies. She was looking at her friend as if asking her to relate the events in full that led to the tragedy.

The other girl could read out her intention and after gathering some courage started her oration.

“We boarded buses provided by the university at eight in the morning near the Exchange Crossing and soon the caravan of buses headed towards the destination. All the way students enjoyed their fill laughing, cracking jokes and singing Bollywood film songs. The buses were running in speed, competing with one another and nothing was audible in the noise within.

Tasneem opened her bag and as usual, took out an English novel to read.  Suddenly, Rizwan swept over with something unusual came and sat beside her. The book in her hand made him restless because he wanted to talk to her but strangely Tasneem didn’t want to oblige him. So he came over to tease her, “Excuse me Tasneem, "you put me off every time I see you holding a book in your hand. Come on, is this an occasion to read books? Please close it and put it back in your bag.”

Smiling softly, she closed her book and put it back into her bag.

“Yes, come on, what do you want to say?”

“Why didn’t you come to the prize distribution function last Sunday?”

“I didn’t expect any prize! What was the fun of my attending? Moreover, I’m least interested in athletics. Anyway, was there something special?” She deliberately wanted to be incognizant of the event.

“I understand you were not to receive a prize yet you could have come to cheer for other award winners. I hope you know this year too I got three prizes, two in swimming and one in the long jump.”

“I believe I should know. Must have been the bronze ones! You can purchase them dirt cheap from an antique shop.” She said in order to poke fun at him.

" Why do you think gold medals have become a rarity? Do you believe I am not able to qualify for the gold?”

“Oh no, you seem to get angry. I was just kidding! How do I know you’ve been awarded a gold medal?”

“Tasneem, to tell you the truth I missed one thing awfully and that was the paucity of close admirers, there were almost none.”

“You’ve erred by not taking the help of your politician friend. He would’ve arranged a couple of truckloads of paid cheering spectators.” 

“There was no such need. If Rizwan had called us we’d have come without payment,” intervened Shalka with a hearty laugh; she was sitting nearby.

Roshni, sitting in an adjacent seat also joined the conversation and said, “Shalka, do not heed him. Had he his way Rizwan would have made us not only clap but also pay for it.” Everyone had a big laugh over the comment. Roshni also loved Rizwan from the core of her heart but he never responded. In her heart of hearts, she felt slighted and sometimes even spoke ill of him. 

As the buses crossed Pampore the singing session commenced. Many boys and girls demonstrated their singing skills. Mohammed Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar, Asha Bhonsle, Manna Dey -- everyone was represented. Students enjoyed and clapped and in that noise and merrymaking the buses sped up to their destination.

Suddenly Somnath, a student with a quiet demeanour rose from his seat and announced at the peak of his voice, “May you all stop for a moment, please. I will tell you a joke”. Peals of laughter welcomed him. He looked like a joker by his very countenance – short-statured with a relatively large diameter. His eyes were deep in his eye sockets on which he was wearing Gandhian-style round-rimmed spectacles. His hair was parted in the middle with a tuft at the back which gave him an appearance of a medieval pundit.

Somnath handed out his first joke and the bus was again swept over by peals of laughter. Then he rolled out another which provoked further laughter. He went on telling jokes one after another inciting tons of laughter till he finished and took his seat. In a few moments, this self-effacing boy drew the attention of all the passengers with his smart prattle.

It looks like some people sincerely believe that they should share joy with people and make them happy, joyous and cheerful. They want the world to be free of sorrow. They would go to any length to fulfil their mission in life.

At about noon all the buses reached Aharabal Falls. Boys and girls formed small groups and sat on the green carpet provided by nature, chit-chatting among themselves. On the other hand, the waterfall in the background presented a sight of grandeur, magnificence and beauty while on the other side reminded me of fury and uncontrollable nature. A white silvery sheet of water falling from the heavens above brought forth unlimited foam below dazzling in the rays of the sun. The scenery was landscaped with deep blue sky and purple mountain ranges.

Meanwhile, the students opened their lunch baskets and boxes and spread their lunch. The sweet fragrance of several Kashmiri dishes, vegetarian and non-vegetarian, filled the air -- Goshtabas, Ristas, Kababs, Murg Musalam and Yakhni on one side, and, Rogan Josh, Keema, Kaliya, Dum Aaloo, Nadru Yakhni on the other. They shared their delicacies with each other and ate to their heart’s content. Having witnessed the scene nobody would believe that man is divided into different castes and faiths.

After taking a rest for a while all the students combined into a single group formed a large circle facing each other and commenced a singing session in which many students participated. Roshni sang a few Ghazals of Mehdi Hassan followed by Tasneem who sang Ghulam Ali and Jagjeet Singh's ghazals. Then Aabida sang a few poignant ghazals of Begum Akhtar. The atmosphere was mesmerizing but unfortunately aroused melancholic feelings that touched the chords of everyone’s heart. Some old film songs of Mukesh, Talat and Lata also joined the melee. The songs created a setting of old memorials revived afresh. Never do modern songs make an impression that these everlasting melodies used to create.

My heart was suddenly overcome by a strange feeling of grief. I couldn't understand why all of them preferred to sing songs begetting sorrow rather than joy. However, I realized very soon that both joy and sorrow are in fact the ultimate reality of life. Putting forward sorrow has the capacity to purge the inner grief that is seated deep inside our hearts. The gloomy experience that is found in these sad notes gives us the finest inner joy which the joyous songs do not. Still, my inner conscience knocked on my reasoning that such occasions should not have been used for arousing sorrow.

Meanwhile, the Sun was passing slowly onto its western destination and the shadow of Chinars was getting longer and longer. The dwindling light of the day was giving a feeling of cool assuredness as the orange and red rays of the Sun were extended over the mountains and valleys around. The water of the fall had turned darker now yet the students were playing gleefully with bare feet in the stream emanating from the waterfall and hopping over the boulders popping out of turbulent waters. Carefree and perilously unbothered about the dangers of the sport, some boys and girls tried to block and even reverse the flow of waves with bare hands acting like oars and also threw it on each other enjoying the beauty that nature had provided here in abundance.

All of a sudden the girl who was narrating the scene became silent unable to narrate anything further. A stream of tears flowed down her eyes and her voice choked. After some time, when she gained her poise, she resumed her speech.

“Suddenly a heartbreaking scream was heard from somewhere and everyone stood on their toes to watch what had happened --- Save me! Save me! Save me! Tasneem was shouting in water, carried away by a strong current deep into it. She was waving her hands and feet desperately for help but no one had the courage to jump into the deafening and awe-inspiring water current to save her. Everyone was panic-stricken and shivered with fear of taking the risk of jumping into the ferocious stream of water.

Deeply shocked, Roshni looked towards Rizwan expecting some initiative from him to save her lady love but he was equally dumbfounded with fear and hesitant to take the plunge. For a few fleeting moments, everyone was hoping against hope with no help whatsoever coming from anywhere when all of a sudden a deep thud was heard in the flowing water. Somebody had daringly jumped into the water. It was Somnath who had taken the unexpected risk to save Tasneem. He was neither an expert swimmer nor had ever taken such an adventure. Everybody was looking at his heroics to save the drowning Tasneem. He pushed himself with great force to take hold of the hand of Tasneem who had almost resigned and was silently flowing with the current of water. With admirable courage and presence of mind, he made concerted efforts to reach her but the forceful waves would drive him away every time he caught hold of her. At last, Somnath caught hold of her waist drawing her towards himself and away from the water current. Everyone watched the incredible struggle of Somnath with fond hope when all of a sudden both of them were engulfed by a strong current of water in a dangerously revolving whirlpool and in a matter of seconds both of them disappeared.

Meanwhile, the two friends had reached the Arts Block where a huge gathering of teachers and students had already gathered to pay homage to the duo. Everybody had been shell-shocked to hear about the unfortunate accident. One after the other, the speakers paid tributes to the departed souls. Those who had actually watched the heart-rending tragedy were mostly speechless and shed tears endlessly. Voice of most of the speakers choked frequently with emotion and they kept searching for words.

In the meantime, a union leader of the administrative department, Bishamber Nath rose to speak. Though he had not personally witnessed the accident yet he related the sequence of the events in such a manner as if he was himself present there on the spot. He expressed deep shock over the loss of precious lives and specifically praised the efforts of Somnath who had lost his life trying to save Tasneem while all others stood silently watching things happen. His oratory had a deep impact on the listeners filling their hearts with grief and eyes with tears. He was however carried away by uncontrolled emotions that for a moment his demagoguery trait took control of his moral sense and he announced, “The great sacrifice of Somnath is a living example of secularism.”

The words spoken by him echoed all over and produced an unusual stir of discontent among the audience. I felt as if by saying these uncalled-for words he had uttered some expletives against those lost innocent souls. Nobody could imagine that Somnath had been spurred by secularism to sacrifice his life and set an example for others. How could he have been guided by the secular ideal in a moment of infinite turbulence, howsoever great the ideal may be? The fact remains that a decision to risk his life was taken by Somnath in a fleeting moment with a single thought of saving a life?  He mustered the courage to attempt the rescue of an innocent helpless girl engulfed by lethal waves and lost his life in the process. Without much thinking, he jumped into the jaws of death. He was only guided by one strong emotion and that was a concern for a fellow human being, nothing else!

I felt the sentence of the union leader acted like a sharp lancet that pierced deep into two innocent sacred hearts of the departed souls.

 

*****

The Provident Fund; English Short Story; Author: Deepak Budki; Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat.

The Provident Fund; English Short Story

 Author: Deepak Budki

 Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat.

While I was posted in Tripura I issued an administrative order that the conditions for withdrawal of the General Provident Fund should be followed strictly. I had been informed that most of the employees, in order to withdraw their GP Fund, circumvented existing rules by giving false reasons. They succeeded in withdrawing from the fund time and again only to spend on liquor and gambling ignoring the needs of their family though their welfare ought to be the primary purpose of this saving. After I took over as Director, Postal Offices in Agartala, within a few months I observed the plight of families of employees and was severely pained to see their miserable conditions. Besides West Bengal and Kerala, Tripura was the only place where communists ruled the state after independence yet the conditions of people were pathetic.

I must confess that during my school and college days, I had been associated emotionally with socialist thought. Like other socialists, I also believed that socialism only could cure society of the evils of poverty and other problems attached to it. But as time passed and the iron cage around the Communist Bloc was removed, the stark truth was laid bare before the public. However, the empathy towards the poor that had been sown in my mind by this ideology in my formative years didn’t wane. Consequently, after becoming a member of the bureaucracy, I always considered helping the poor and ridding them of their troubles as my prime duty though many of my colleagues did not favour my disposition.

Unlike Arunachal Pradesh, Meghalaya and Nagaland, Tripura is not mountainous and rich in natural beauty. Most of the area is plain and marshy. There are no snow-clad mountains and dense evergreen forests. Like Meghalaya, there are no coal mines too. The soil here produces plenty of jackfruit, litchis and pineapple. Truckloads of jackfruit are sent to distant places including Bangladesh. Before coming to this place I had eaten jackfruit as a vegetable only. It was here that I came to know that once it ripens fully it is as sweet and fragrant as a mango.

Tripura is a backward state. The people are steeped here in poverty and destitution. Even after more than fifty years of independence, no industrial development is seen anywhere nor do any professional colleges exist here. The people of this state have to proceed to cities like Kolkata for advanced education, professional training and ultimate employment. The remaining population indulges in drugs, drinking, gambling and betting in order to rid themselves of remorse. Almost the whole of the North East is steeped in this evil.

After the partition, lots of migrants from East Pakistan settled here. They were mostly Bengalis. They overpowered the simple and unassuming tribal population of Tripura who were ignorant of the complexities of urban life. Gradually the original Tripuris were marginalized and reduced to a minority and became dependent on the immigrants. When they felt that their rights were being denied to them by the new settlers, they were compelled to pick up the gun. Terrorism spread in the whole state and has not been controlled ever since. Taking advantage of this situation the Communist Party of India (Marxist) showed many rosy dreams to these poor and gullible people and exploited them for their personal benefit. A number of labour unions were formed under the Marxist rule and its leaders held absolute power in many areas of influence.

Almost all trade union leaders were annoyed by my directives regarding Provident Fund. Jayant Majumdar and his supporters who were associated with Marxist Union protested in my office though they knew very well that my decision was for the benefit of poor employees. The Government had laid down certain conditions for withdrawal from GP Fund which inter alia included giving information about the pressing need for such withdrawal and providing sufficient proof to that effect. The order also made it incumbent upon the sanctioning authority to check and verify the authenticity of the claim. Since the money in the fund was the personal saving of the employee so the drawing officers didn’t insist on providing proof regarding the need for withdrawal nor checked its validity. It surely works well in a healthy society but where the employees are mired deeply in bad habits and unable to judge their good and bad, it is the duty of Officers to ensure that the employees do not misuse their savings. It was for this reason that I issued orders for strict implementation of the conditions for the withdrawal of the GP Fund. I had anticipated that trade unions would appreciate my actions for the benefit of their fellow employees but I was proved wrong.

There was a long interaction with the Trade Union leader on the issue but I was unable to bring him around. He said loudly, "Sir, these are dictatorial orders which you have issued? We’ve learned that you’ve stopped employees from withdrawing from their GP Fund. This is extremely inhuman and cruel on your part. GP Fund is a part of their hard-earned money and is kept as a trust with the government. You have no business to stop its payment since it is their own money?”

“Please be calm and listen to me. There’s neither any ban imposed on withdrawal from this fund nor have any new rules been made. I’ve only reiterated the strict implementation of the conditions of its withdrawal. I have noticed that these conditions are not followed properly in many cases. There are cases where the roof of the same house has been repaired several times and Mundan, the first hair-cutting ceremony of the same child has been performed not less than five times. Huge amounts have been withdrawn for the marriage ceremony of the same daughter three to four times and the amount thus withdrawn spent on wine, betting and gambling. Families of these self-destructive officials are suffering for want of basic necessities of life while they spend money on boozing and gambling. Balance in the fund of most employees has touched the bare minimum. Isn't it our duty, yours and mine, to save their families from impending disaster? Isn’t it proper under the circumstances that the withdrawal is restricted to genuine cases and not permitted to fake claimants? Isn’t it our duty to ensure the welfare of the families of our fellow employees for which the money was intended to be saved?”

During the discussion, it remained my earnest endeavour that all pros and cons of the order are explicated properly to Majumdar. In the end, I made a humble request to him to make amends for his views and attitude. I felt he was not unaware of ground reality yet he pretended ignorance because he feared that by owning the truth he would invite the anger of his fellow union members.

After I finished, he said, “Sir, do you think I’m unaware of this all? The truth is, if I do not take up this issue before the administration, our rival union will, and in all probability, many of my union members will switch alliances to their side. The employees prefer only such a union which is able to highlight their genuine as well as bogus demands vehemently. I hope you understand my helplessness. In the circumstances, Sir, I make a humble submission that the order may please be withdrawn.  

I was really impressed by the matter-of-fact answer of Jayant Majumdar and felt astonished as to what levels can these trade unions stoop down to in order to keep their hold on their members. These union leaders were more worried about the number of members affiliated with them rather than the welfare of such employees. So it was decided in the meeting that action on the particular order shall be put off for some time.

Barely a week had passed it was reported to me that a Postmaster had died in the BG Hospital, Agartala. On hearing the news, I immediately rushed to the hospital to express condolence. As per convention, I was expected to arrange for a specific amount of money from my office and hand it over to the heir of the deceased for performing his last rites but I forgot the same and nobody in the office had reminded me about it. Someone in the hospital did point it out to me but it was too late. So I thought I’ll arrange to send the amount immediately on return to my office and by the time the dead body could be taken home. Meanwhile, Union Secretary Jayant Majumdar had also reached the hospital.

The dead body of the Postmaster was lying on the bed of the general ward of the hospital. After a while I requested Mujamdar, “Please call for a stretcher so that the body is taken downstairs. Also, arrange for a Taxi for carrying it to his home.”

“Sir, taxis are not available here, we can get a three-wheeler and carry the body in it.” He signalled someone and told him to get a three-wheeler.

Two men got a stretcher and placed it before us. On looking at the stretcher Majumdar turned to me, “Sir, I’ll call two sweepers who’ll pick up the body and carry it downstairs.”

“Why, what for the sweeper? Can’t we take him down ourselves?”

“No Sir, that’s not done. Nobody will touch or help to lift a dead body. People here are very conservative.”

I was shocked to hear that. On looking at the powerless face of Majumdar I understood that nobody around was in fact ready to touch the dead body. For them, it was the job of sweepers.  How unfortunate! These people loathed the touch of the dead body of a person who till yesterday was their colleague and with whom they were associated for so long. In India, even if you are a staunch believer of  Marxist ideology, you cannot escape the caste prejudices that you have inherited from generation to generation.

Just a few minutes later, I rolled up my sleeves, put both my arms underneath the body, lifted it up and placed it on the stretcher. Having seen me shifting the dead body single-handed the employees present there were stunned and felt ashamed. Though reluctantly, they started helping me to keep the dead body on the stretcher properly and later brought it downstairs to place it in the three-wheeler.

Postmaster’s wife was standing beside the auto-rickshaw and crying inconsolably. She was hesitant to sit in the auto beside the body of her dead husband and continued to look at my and Majumdar's face expectantly. I was at a loss to find proper words to console her in such a pitiable condition. All I could say was, “Sister, you sit in the auto with the body and reach home. We will also reach there soon. You need not worry about anything.”

She continued staring at me as if she had not understood anything whatever I had told her and it seemed she was looking for some urgent help. Meanwhile, an employee who was standing with us asked her something in Bengali and after getting her reply addressed me, “Sir, the poor woman is penniless. How can she go home? Who will pay for the three-wheeler? Her husband was a compulsive gambler and a heavy drunkard. Because of his excessive drinking, his liver had been damaged totally. Whatever he earned in his life, he spent on drinking and gambling leaving nothing for his family. If you check his GP Fund balance, it’ll just be the bare minimum, the rest evaporated like ether. Who knows how much he may be owing to his creditors? Thankfully he was living in a staff quarter, otherwise, his children would have no roof over their heads. They will now be thrown out on the road. This poor woman is a mother of three kids. She earns her living by selling vegetables in the vegetable market. That man never spent anything on his home. Every penny of his salary was spent on booze and betting. On the contrary, he would frequently demand money from his wife and if she refused he would beat her mercilessly and leave the house while she wailed and cried painfully.”

On hearing this all, I was deeply anguished. It was beyond my imagination that a human being would fall so deep in the abyss of vice that he betrays his personal life, soul, conscience and everything. Further, it drove him mad to such an extent that he was gripped by a malady which abruptly terminated his life. Instead of becoming a savior to his family he became a source of great trouble and worry for them. I had already got a clue of this behaviour of some employees much earlier, and therefore as a remedial measure, had issued an order for strict implementation of conditions for withdrawals from GP Fund. However, it was not even in my remotest thoughts that the conditions would turn so explosive.

I took out a hundred rupee note from my pocket and handed it over to the distressed woman saying, “Sister, keep it and make payment to the rickshaw driver. Meanwhile, I’m going to my office and shall in an hour or so arrange to send you the permissible amount for funeral rites and other related expenses.”

Jayant Majumdar heard this conversation. I could feel vexation inside him due to his guilty conscience. He was unable to look at me face to face. Normally he is talkative and keeps everyone absorbed around him but for some time now he had grown calm and quiet. Maybe either his inner conscience was blaming him or he was thinking about the further course of action to be adopted to survive as an effective trade union leader. Who knows what new schemes were fleeting through his corrupt and mischievous mind?

As for me, I was deeply immersed in the sea of irritation and uneasiness. My aversion to the selfishness of human beings was getting pronounced since some of them did not feel any shame to sacrifice the interests of their blood relations and colleagues. The members of their family - parents, brothers and sisters besides their colleagues were meant to achieve their own goals and became ladders for their own career hops. For such people, human values sink into the morass of selfishness with total disregard for the rest of the world.

In an awful state of worry and discomfort, I took leave of all the mourners there and went straight to my office, arranged for the funeral expenses allowance, and sent the same to the Postmaster’s house before proceeding to my home. I couldn't sleep for the whole night. Frequently the face of the poor old widow would pop up before me. I was not able to understand how the mother of three children would be able to pass her life of deprivation and loneliness hereafter? Besides, the question that was repeatedly arising in my mind was whether the object of the formation of trade unions was the betterment of the union members or their ruination?

 

*****