Farewell, Mahatma by Devibharathi

Author:Devibharathi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperPerennial
Published: 2014-11-13T00:00:00+00:00

A Person Named Das

Until two years ago, a person called Das with the identification marks as reported by Manju was living at the address indicated by her. Then suddenly he disappeared one day. The Malayali who lived now in the small house that Das had once rented knew nothing about him. Only the elderly woman from the neighbouring house still had a few memories of Das. She had immense regard and love for him. Owing to certain good traits he possessed, the person called Das had won the admiration of all the residents on that street. Das – who had no particular job and called himself a painter – painted billboards from time to time to earn a living. After his disappearance, several incomplete paintings were discovered in his small room. He was a solitary man; no one remembered any friend or relative coming to see him. It’s not clear what happened in the interim, but a couple of years ago, he suddenly gave up painting billboards and stayed holed up in his room for as long as three months. Then, during the summer of that year, that is, in the second month after Manju and I got married, he disappeared. A month later, the lock on the door of his rented house was forced open. That apart, nothing more about him or his whereabouts was known. Das was an enigma for that old woman, the residents on that street, and for me too. He was not just an enigma for me; he was a sword hanging above my head, a noose around my neck. The existence of this person called Das had landed me in a life-or-death situation.

‘What was Das to you?’ asked the old woman.

‘Friend,’ I said and walked out.

I walked down the road, stepping on the dark shadows of white gulmohur trees in full bloom. Dried up white gulmohur flowers were being trampled under my feet. The smoke-stained windows of neighbouring houses opened soundlessly. When I looked up, sensing eyes on my back, they closed in panic. Anxious faces behind those nervous window bars. Not just anxious, also fearful. The man had sown fear and anxiety before leaving. A seed germinates and grows into a plant. Its flowers become fruit, which ripen and drop to the ground. With every fruit that drops, plants sprout tenfold to turn the place into a jungle: a forest of anxiety. I knew that after I left, feet impelled by fear and disquiet would rush towards that house; the elderly lady who spoke to me would be bombarded with questions.

Where are you, Das? I want to see you. Why? Even God wouldn’t know why. Das, you are not my friend; you are my enemy, a rival. You have already bested me in a race. Das, I am ready to concede my defeat at our very first meeting. Das, I will shake your hand and leave without a word, never looking back. I don’t need anything else. I am no longer haunted by dreams.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.