Kalicharan's Daughter
-----------------------------------------------------
A week back I got a nice feedback from a reader of "Virasat" about this particular story. I'm going to translate it for my blog. I valued the feedback because the reader is one with a child that suffers from the developmental disorder called autism. In fact, according to her report, her entire family liked the story. I take it to be an indication of success of the story. Maybe, readers would like it in its English avatar.
--------------------------------------------------
Kalicharan's Daughter
====================
Kalicharan did not contract a second marriage. It was seven long years ago that his wife expired. Thereafter, during those years of abrupt emptiness, he had oftentimes felt that he should marry once again, for it was necessary to have a woman with him to take care of his household. With two children growing up, it was unquestionably a critical juncture that the family was going through. But somehow Kalicharan managed to brush the urge aside. In fact, truth be told, he did not pay attention to his needs. Now his son was ten years old and his daughter eight. And Kalicharan had taken it to be the be-all and end-all of his life to take care of his children. There lay his satisfaction and there his happiness.
In fact it was a tragic episode through and through. Kalicharan’s had a
daughter named Vani who was mentally unsound and she was not capable of playing
or gambolling like other children of her age. If she sat somewhere, she would
continue to sit motionless for hours together. If she saw somebody, she would gawp at him without batting her eyelash. If she started laughing, she
would just laugh and laugh, with no rhyme and reason. Off and on she used to drool
uncontrollably.
Sincere Kalicharan used to think that his daughter Vani was a divine
responsibility that god himself had entrusted to him. It was only by accepting
the responsibility that he would exhibit his true devotion to God.
Had Vani been a normal child then the matter would have been different. But
she needed constant care. Kalicharan had a kind of inveterate fear that if he
ever entrusted anybody with the task of taking care of Vani he or she might
start neglecting her or even torturing her. That was the reason why he was so willingly
and single-handedly catering to all the needs of his mentally challenged
daughter. What was more he did not share the burden even with his own son
Vishu.
Time just crawled on as a slow-moving centipede inside a damp wayside shanty.
Kalicharan had to take on the roles of both mother and father for Vani. However, his strenuous
efforts did not go entirely in vain. Now Vani had become an eight year-old girl
with at least some training in self-care. She had started doing her routines on
her own, say for example, going to toilet or brushing teeth and combing hair or
arranging her bed and so forth. It was an unforgettably arduous eight-year span
in his life. Thinking of those excruciating days, a cold shudder would run
through Kalicharan’s spine. He remembered how he used to remain without a sleep for nights
together and guard the poor little kid for the first five years of her
childhood. And there were many such memories that would rekindle themselves in
Kalicharan’s mind just like that.
Even now Kalicharan had no respite from the household chores. He still
cooked meals for the family in the morning, a work that used to get over not a
minute before nine o’ clock. Then he used to feed his daughter and drop her in her school. Vishu, on
the other hand, did not need Kalicharan’s help to go to school. In this manner,
Kalicharan could find time to go to office only after every odd work was
finished at home. That was too much and definitely not to the liking of his
supervisor. Kalicharan was only a postal assistant with a lot of
responsibilities and his workload was not negligible. Besides, while working at
his office, he could not concentrate, for he was to remain ever bothered
about Vani. Fortunately, her school was at a distance of one kilometre from
Kalicharan’s house. When it was noon he used to dash up to Vani’s school to take
news about Vani’s health and activities. While returning home Kalicharan used
to take Vani along with him.
Unlike Vani, her brother Vishu was completely a normal child. True, he
devoted himself to his studies yet the scores he managed in his exam were not
to match his efforts. It was a trend that should have bothered a father, but
where was time for Kalicharan to pay attention to that? He thought that in time
Vishu would understand everything. He should reach his age to understand his
responsibility. Kalicharan could manage some time at least on two occasions to
meet Vishu’s teachers but whatever they reported him about Vishu definitely
dismayed him. He cogitated, repented for his failure to spend quality time with
his son but finally concluded, ‘After all, Vishu is no Vani and he needs no
hand-holding. The boy should hopefully mend himself in time.’
Time accelerated its movement, leaving behind nothing for Kalicharan to
cheer about. Within next six years Vishu appeared in his matriculation exam and
the outcome was no different from what everybody expected of it. He failed
in almost all his subjects. And the next year when he took another attempt, he
resorted to malpractice with vengeance. As he took to this path, he finally
passed the exam. After matriculation, there was nothing that could have stopped
Vishu, for he knew how to smoothly pass the exams that came routinely every
year. In this way he acquired a Bachelor’s degree. Once he just bragged and
bragged and quipped, ‘Why on earth people cram so much for the exam? As for our
state, government is soon going to legalise cheating, I mean cheating in
exams.’
Here Kalicharan was not at all happy for his son’s passing the tests, yet
what else was open for him to do? Anyway Vishu was achieving success after
success!
Everything
was happening as per the dictate of time, but Kalicharan had no means to
understand that. In his professional life, he was not able to give his best.
Everything he did had omissions and defects in it and he was miles away from
his ability to correct and learn. No wonder one day he was to be suspended from his
service proving his own apprehensions right every inch. He was rendered an object
of ridicule, a confirmed nitwit, yet the fallout was not entirely abominable.
Now Kalicharan got more time to spend with Vani. The poor girl badly needed
that. It was an opportunity that Kalicharan did not like to fritter away;
rather he spent the time on imparting more and more training to his daughter,
such as making chapattis, playing harmonium, etc. On the other hand, even if Kalicharan
was not doing anything for his office, he got his subsistence allowance at the
rate of fifty percent of what he was getting so far. This was an amount way too
less, yet Kalicharan somehow managed his needs within his reduced income.
Now Kalicharan stayed at home and had the chance to observe the activities
of his son Vishu. It was clear to him that his son was mixing with loafers and
leading the life of a druggie. When Kalicharan saw Vishu shamelessly returning
home in a state of drunkenness, he felt utterly helpless and went on shedding
tears in desolation. It was a moment to remember his dear old wife, as though
Kalicharan was in silent communication with her invisible soul. Here Vishu would bang
and scream his gut out in a state of stupor and then go to sleep. This was almost a daily
happening...and it was as utterly unfortunate as that.
And then a day came when Vishu did not hesitate to slap his sister who was
only a mentally challenged girl in need of others’ compassion. For
Kalicharan it was a day of agony. He wondered, ‘Was a day like this left for me
to endure? Should I be just a silent onlooker of a scene like this? In case I
die today what would happen to my dear little daughter Vani? Vishu is not a
brother—he won't give her any respect, not even what was due to a
housemaid.’
Kalicharan’s worry reached a point beyond which it was not possible to
endure any more. Now that he had stopped going to office, how, then, would he divert
his mind away from his current agony? But day by day his son’s acts of
misbehaviour were aggravating the situation. Kalicharan lost his ability to
smother his impotent rage inside.
One day
Kalicharan had a high fever and he went to a doctor. The diagnosis ended in a
shock: Kalicharan was suffering from a heart disease. And a stage had reached
where a surgery was a critical imperative. If he delayed his operation beyond a
month, the condition would be just irreversible. It was a grim warning from the
doctor.
It was a case of open heart surgery and the whole thing would cost oodles
of money. Where would Kalicharan get that much amount? Presently, he sent an
application to his Senior Superintendent’s office. It was an application from
an official who was placed under suspension and so it met with a lukewarm
response from everybody there.
In the meanwhile Kalicharan got his health properly checked at a super specialty
centre of Chennai. The heart centre gave him an estimate for the surgery: the
entire treatment would necessitate an expense of one lakh and twenty thousand
rupess only. Kalicharan came back with all his diagnostic reports and the
estimate. He decided he would get himself treated but at government’s expense.
He just nurtured a hope that an advance would be sanctioned by the office of
the Post Master General. At the moment, that was the only way open to him.
Days passed. There was a rapid deterioration in the health of Kalicharan. Nowadays he
was not able to make any effortless movement; he just gasped for breath with
every stride he took inside his house. Willy-nilly he had to entrust his application to
Vishu to carry it on his behalf and approach the office of the Postmaster
General. And then he waited with a lot of hope that any moment the
letter containing the official favour would arrive at his door.
At the
back of his mind Kalicharan harboured a fear that he would succumb to death
while his surgery was in progress. In case that happened what on earth would
not come over Vani? Who would take care of the poor girl? It would be better if
he did not proceed further with his plan for surgery. Even if this would keep him
unwell, so be it. He would continue to take Vani’s care even in a state of poor
health.
When Kalicharan was so much engrossed in his worry whether or not he should
get himself operated, he got the lesson of his life from his Vishu. That day
Vishu was away and Kalicharan was busy cleaning and rearranging cupboards in
his house. Even though he was in two minds whether or not to touch Vishu’s
cupboard, finally he took it up. There, to his utter shock, he found his own application for medical
advance lying. They were all in originals and Kalicharan did not know how to react. He thought, ‘If
my application is lying over here, then what did Vishu submit in the office of
the Post Master General?’
Kalicharan was already anguished by the reprehensible behaviour of Vishu.
The instant discovery made him grimly aware of the ferocity of the impending
events. He was speechless and angry. ‘Why did Vishu take such a step and lied
before me? Does he not like to see me getting well once again? Even if I die
without my treatment, what would he gain by that?’
Kalicharan took hold of all his papers. Soon he went out on his own to the
office of the Post Master General. There he met the officer in charge of the
accounts department. The officer was a helpful soul and when he came to know
that Kalicharan was not fit enough to come upstairs climbing the flight of
stairs, he himself went downstairs to meet him.
And it
proved to be an eye-opening trip for Kalicharan. He got the first-hand information
that some days ago Vishu had come to meet the accounts officer. Instead of
enquiring about the medical advance, he asked the officer to explain him some
of his own doubts unrelated to this. He just wanted to know how soon he would
get a job in the department after his father Kalicharan died. Further, he
desired to know if the process would be any quicker in case the claim for a
service on rehabilitation ground came from a dependant who was the only child
of the deceased. There were a few more mischievous queries too that Vishu posed
before the accounts officer, but the most interesting one was in the nature of
an interesting remark:
‘Is
the government so foolish? Where’s the big point in spending so much on an
employee that is going to die so soon?’
Kalicharan understood everything. And he was now resolved. He would have to
remain alive to foil the evil designs of his own son. He would have to remain
alive for the sake of his dear little daughter Vani. He would live to teach his
son a lesson of his life, now that it was necessary for him to remedy the
blunder he had committed in giving his son a cosy upbringing.
After
his surgery Kalicharan gained his health so rapidly that even the treating
surgeons marvelled at that. In a matter of one fortnight only, he came home
completely cured of the malady. Then by the end of the month an official order
restored him to his old workplace. And thus Kalicharan happily found himself
welcome everywhere he went.
A confident father in Kalicharan conveyed his considered decision that now
onwards his son Vishu would have to live separately. Kalicharan would not like
a conspiring freeloader on his premises. In a matter of a few days only, Vishu
made his own arrangement of stay away from his father and sister.
Finding
a govt service for himself was not his lot, and so Vishu had to elect a profession for
himself to match his talent. Kalicharan came to know that his son with all his
abilities now fully developed was going to fight an election. The attraction
of the post of headman in his village beckoned him.
_________________
By
_________________
By
A N Nanda
27-07-2012
Bhubaneswar
__________________ Labels: short story, Translation, Virasat
posted by The Unadorned | 8:31 AM
|
5 comments
