This is an English translation of “Oru Naal”, a short
story written by Nakulan. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.
…
The disciples were making their visits frequently to
Paramahamsa, who was leading his life without letting his cogitations stray
from this world with his resolute love for the god. Narendranath Dutta, who
later became famous all over the world; Saint Dodapuri, who had taught
Paramahamsa Vedas and Upanishads and never yet been caught in the mundane; his relative
Hridhay Mukhejee; Brahma Samajis Keshav Chandrasenar, Shivnath Babu Sastri, and
Pratap Chandra Majumdar; ardent follower of rituals Krishna Kishor; singers
Gourangaswamy and Nityananda Swamy; physician Sasathar Pandit; millionaire
Yadunath Mallik; and Madura Babu, the son-in-law of the queen Rojamani—all were paying their homage to Paramahamsa to seek some time for a casual conversation
with him. Those who watched Paramahamsa, for the first time, speaking with them
with a complete fascination for the worldly matters would find it difficult to
digest the fact that he was an ascetic. Everyone—from Yadunath Mallik to
scavenger Kunjan—was narrating their share of woes in life and returned with a
peace of mind after listening to the didactic tales from Paramahamsa. It wasn’t
certain when they would all come and leave. They would be waiting till he came
out of his deep slumber that looked as if he had been in deep thought. If that
slumber went on—sometimes it would last even for two or three days—they would
either wait till he came out of the meditation or leave a message with Dodapuri
that they would visit again.
This Dodapuri was different from Saint Dodapuri. He belonged
to the cadre of men who were followers of Paramahamsa. He had been an
accountant in the grocery shop run by Govindji Chet in Dakshineshwar. His wife
died, leaving behind a sixteen-year-old boy, Naveenan. Dodapuri was madly in
love with his wife. There was a reason behind it. He had acquired a serious
bout of tuberculosis before his marriage due to his philandering way of life.
Seeing his wife’s steadfast devotion to the god and unfaltering following of
rituals, he changed his mind. She died after reminding him that it was his duty
to take care of his son Naveenan. After that, Dodapuri was very protective of
his son, though he didn’t display his affection visibly. Naveenan must
have been ten years old when his wife died. Seeing the divine glow on
Naveenan’s face, Paramahamsa deputed him to collect flowers, make garlands, and
sing hymns for worshipping the goddess. Dodapuri wasn’t aware of it. One day,
when Naveenan didn’t turn up home for a long time, he came to know through the
scavenger Kunjan that Naveenan had gone to the ashram and went there. He saw
Naveenan asking Gourangaswamy whether Paramahamsa died, as he hadn’t seen him
sitting in meditation before. Dodapuri, visibly perplexed, took his son along
with him.
His mind remained restless after coming home. When he went to
the ashram, Yadunath Mallik and Madura Babu were discussing something in a
lowered voice, sitting away from the visitors, frequently setting their eyes on
Paramahamsa. Dodapuri, who lived on alms, found it strange. He knew that
Yadunath Mallik and Madura Babu were stinkingly rich. He couldn’t make out why
those men were paying frequent visits to the ashram. He knew about the rumour
being spread in the village that Yadunath Mallik wanted to increase his wealth
through Paramahamsa, but that eccentric saint did not accede to his demands.
After his initial visit to the ashram, Dodapuri couldn’t avoid going to the
ashram very frequently. He had obtained permission from his master, Govindji
Chet, to visit the ashram every Friday night at eight o'clock after attending
to the work before one o'clock. His visits to the ashram had made him have a
high opinion about Paramahamsa. There was no fixed time for the visitors to
come to the ashram. If Govindji Chet received his high-profile customers—be it
Avinath Chatterjee or Rampandit Muherjee—they would get a royal reception.
Govindji Chet would assign the responsibility of ensuring proper hospitality to
Dodapuri. Dodapuri was very pleased to do that.
During his visits to the ashram, if any important visitor
came—like Chandrasenar or Sasadhar Pandit—Paramahamsa would throw a pleasing
smile at him. Dodapuri would then look after those visitors as well. It had
become a routine. He turned his ears deaf to the critics who mocked his
unquestionable servility.
Dodapuri was tall and had a complexion of a completely dried
fish. He had thick hair on his head with a tiny tuft at the centre. He was
wearing a starched, crumpled linen below and a towel-like cloth on his upper body.
A small silver vial containing snuff would always be dangling at his waist,
which he used to sniff deeply whenever his heart brimmed with ecstasy. The
inmates of the ashram would pass snide remarks at him for this too. Dodapuri
would keep telling the people he met how effectively Paramahamsa had referred
to his sniffing habit in the moral stories he preached.
It had been three years since Dodapuri started visiting the
ashram. A thought, a formless one, had been pestering his mind perpetually for
those three years. He couldn’t believe that he was still unable to release
himself from the clutches of those thoughts. When he pondered over this, he
remembered Paramahamsa telling his disciples that in spite of Dodapuri being
very close to him for three years, he was still unable to stop Dodapuri’s habit
of sniffing snuff even once.
Naveenan had completed his schooling now. During his days in
the ashram, Paramahamsa would ask him to bring him some snuff for an ana in the
evenings when he returned. Naveenan, an obedient boy in Paramahamsa’s opinion,
would never fail to bring him snuff. That Naveenan had now completed his
studies in school. During that time, a new university had been opened in
Kolkata. Apart from the insistence of his wife, it was Dodapuri’s aspiration
that he wanted his son to pursue his higher studies and sit on a coveted job.
When he first visited the ashram, he was mentally prepared for it, even without
his knowledge. Now it had assumed a mammoth proportion, as he was very clear
about what he aspired to. Because, when he first visited the ashram, it was not
Paramahmasa, who was sitting in a deep meditation, who attracted his attention;
it was Yadunath Mallik and Madura Babu. Later he was troubled with the thought
that he returned without paying proper homage to Paramahamsa. His heart started palpitating at a
faster rate as he grew aware that the objective he nurtured that day had now
grown into a full-fledged dream with its limbs. Somehow assuaging his
agitation, he left. He had obtained a leave for today from his boss yesterday
itself.
It was midday. The sun was scorching above. He sniffed a
pinch of snuff before leaving as if to ease the turbulence in his mind, covered
his head with the towel, and then walked down with mild steps as though having
no feet. While walking, he struggled not to think about the task he was
planning to do and then remained for some while without thinking about it and
then struggled to rein his mind from jumping into what he was struggling with
earlier, and then his troubled strides brought him back to his senses when he
walked four steps past the ashram. As his senses pulled him back, he reached
the ashram.
There were none in the ashram as he expected other than
Ramakrishna Paramahamsa. Even Hridhay was also not present there. He felt
relieved at seeing Paramahamsa not sitting in meditation. He then walked
towards a well in the ashram, gently fanning his face with his upper cloth. He
was deliberately doing all these slowly.
He then went to Paramahamsa, paid his regards, and sat down
without uttering anything. Paramahamsa smiled at him, seeing his silence, and
asked,
Doda, is the shop closed today?”
“It is open.”
“Is your boss unwell?”
“He is very fine.”
“Have you come here in search of Naveenan? Though he is not a
small boy, you still come here searching for him. It seems that my brain has
grown rusty. Had I listened to my elder brother’s advice and joined Kolkata
University, I wouldn’t have asked such questions,” he laughed, telling this.
Those words made Dodapuri’s heart sink further in uneasiness. Concealing that
uneasiness with the layer of stubbornness, he took out some snuff from the
silver casket and started speaking slowly.
“I have come here to speak about Naveenan.”
“Naveenan is a good boy.”
“I would like you to come with me to Roymahasayar’s home.”
“I don’t know him.”
“You don’t have to know about him. I know him. He is Madura
Babu’s friend.”
“Naveenan hasn’t yet become mature. Has he?”
“I don’t mean that. Roymahasayar is a rich man. He is not
blessed with children. While coming to our shop, he used to inquire about
Naveenan. I want Naveenan to pursue his higher studies and come up well in his
life. My financial position won’t allow me to do that. That is why I want to
meet him to seek financial help and support. I want him to take care of
Naveenan.”
“But…”
“I seek your pardon. Let me complete speaking. I want to see
Naveenan holding a big post and coming here as your disciple to meet you with
my hospitality.”
“How can I be of any help in this?”
“You don’t have to open your mouth to say anything. You just
come with me and sit beside me.” Dodapuri looked up to his face eagerly as if
all his desires had taken his form.
Paramahamsa did not make him wait for long. He collected his
only upper cloth lying on a clothesline, turned to Dodapuri when he was about
to walk down, and said, “Ensure a sufficient amount of snuff in the silver
casket,” and smiled. Dodapuri, who was preoccupied with some other thoughts,
replied, “Yes. It is there.” They didn’t speak anything after that. Both
covered their heads with a towel and strode towards Roymahasayar’s house,
located after four streets. They saw Roymahasayar standing at the doorway of
his house, fanning himself. As he knew Dodapuri, he remained quiet without
extending any customary entreaties.
Dodapuri greeted him with folded hands, forcefully though,
and went near to him. He pointed to Paramahamsa, voluntarily again, who was
standing at a distance with an inevitable glow. Roymahasayar invited them to
come into the house and walked in front.
Soon after they went in, Dodapuri took out one of the wooden
planks leaning against the wall and kept on the floor and requested Paramahamsa
to sit on it. Paramahamsa sat down, keeping his upper cloth on his lap.
Dodapuri began speaking:
“The saffron powder you asked me for some days ago has just
reached the shop.”
“What a funny thing it is! Have you come here in this
sweltering, skinning heat just to inform me of this petty thing, and that too
with this old man?”
Dodapuri’s anxiety grew thicker. He turned and felt relieved
at seeing Paramahamsa sitting on the wooden plank with his eyes half closed. To
get his nerves bolder, he took out some snuff, sniffed it, stood hesitantly a
while, and then said, “Pardon me, sir. Rojamani madam had sent a messenger from
Kolkata to get it.”
Roymahasayar, who was listening to him disinterestedly,
jumped off and sat straight. Dodapuri knew that Royamahasayar had an enduring
illicit relationship with Rojamani after the death of his wife, and all her
expenses were accounted for in his name in the shop.
“???” Roymahasayar looked up to him, eagerly waiting for him
to resume his talk.
“I just got the information that we have received the saffron
powder. I have taken a leave today. I thought of sending it to you through
Naveenan. I heard that Chet also closed his shop early. So, I thought of paying
a visit to you.”
Roymahasayar, who was visibly happy at hearing Rojamani’s
name, asked him, “I like this name, Naveenan. Who is he? Is he working in your
shop?”
“No…he just needs your help.”
“My help?” Roymahasayar asked as his eyes were fixed on
Paramahamsa. Paramahamsa was still sitting in a meditative state.
“He is a good boy. My only son. He has been helping with
divine errands in the ashram. He has completed his studies in school. I want
him to pursue his higher studies and get a respectable job. Sooner it came to
my mind than did I come here.”
Roymahasayar led Dodapuri to a separate room. With the same
formless feeling that he nurtured in his heart three years ago, he followed
him. Paramahamsa was still sitting like a wooden plank.
“Dodapuri, I don’t have to tell you more. We both have lost
our spouses. We have seen enough of this world. You know well that I have never
wanted to go anywhere near Paramahamsa’s ashram. You have been going there for
the last three years. Today, you have brought him also here.”
Growing enormously apprehensive of what he had in store to
speak out, Dodapuri requested him to pause a while, sniffed the snuff, and then
asked him to resume.
Even if I don’t go there, I know about Paramahamsa. I know
why Mallik and his friends were dallying with him. But I don’t speak about all
these. I hate gossips. But one thing: I am not a well-educated man. You might
know that even Paramahamsa also didn’t like to get educated. But what are we
doing now? If you genuinely seek true wisdom and status, you don’t have to
pursue any studies. Are you getting what I am saying?”
Dodapuri just nodded his head, unable to speak as he
experienced an unfathomable pain possibly caused by an overflow of stress
people usually face when they are seized by uncontainable emotions and his
obvious attempts to control his sobs. The image of his wife, Paramahamsa, who
was sitting without any movement, and the innocent face of Naveenan in his
home—all together flashed like lightning in the nebulous space of the interiors
of his mind.
“I know. You are a well-informed man. I like this name,
Naveenan. I also want to help him to come up in his life. But I don’t want to
spoil his life by getting him educated. I just want to teach him how to acquire
skills and amass wealth, if at all you are okay with it.”
Dodapuri nodded his head again, perceptibly due to the fear
that rose up to his neck from his heart to choke him like a ball of butter that
had been churned out of buttermilk.
“I have a very good opinion about Paramahamsa. What he had
told about women is fully correct. But, Dodapuri, can we control our semen even
if that devil himself directs us to do so? Dodapuri, I have been receiving
information that Rojamani is whoring around. I must conduct myself within a set
rule of life. Mustn’t I? I will have no such trouble if I have a man to keep me
calm. What I have told you is not true. I know about Naveenan. Madura Babu has
told me about Naveenan that he is a good boy with divine appeal. He can work in
Rojamani’s house and be my trusted man so that I can get rid of this trouble.
You don’t worry about him anymore. You just leave him in my care. What do you
say?”
Dodapuri struggled his best to contain his anger that erupted
like a storm from the nebulous space of his heart, got up, and said, “I will
meet you tomorrow.” Roymahasayar followed him to the hall, coaxing him, “Think
about it and come with a good decision.” Their arrival at the hall coincided
with Paramahamsa getting up from his seat.
Paramahamsa and Dodapuri walked down slowly to the ashram. When
Dodapuri was about to bid goodbye, Paramahamsa looked at him and said, “You
don’t need to tell me anything. Roymahasayar must have taught you more in three
hours than what you have learnt, and missed learning from me in these three
years. We both can pay him our
obeisance. Now you must have understood the reason behind why I accompanied
you,” and then bid him goodbye.
The next day, though Roymahasayar was surprised at the news
that Naveenan had become a priest in the ashram, he chose to remain unconcerned
about it.
***Ended***
