Mountains Painted with Turmeric by Lil Bahadur Chettri

Author:Lil Bahadur Chettri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000, Fiction/General, LIT008000, Literary Criticism/Asian/General
Publisher: Columbia University Press
Published: 2007-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

16

Dhané was walking toward his fields from the far side of the valley, expecting to hear the sound of water running down the channel in the distance, but he was surprised that even as he reached the edge of the fields he could hear no sound at all. At the irrigation ditch, he stopped: there was no water in it. Only two of the terraces had filled, and a third was barely damp. “Who has shut off the water?” he thought and continued down the side of the channel. A little way off, the channel branched off into Nandé’s fields. Dhané saw that the water going to his own fields had been shut off and turned into those fields instead. He looked all around carefully, and a little way off in the pale moonlight he saw a person dozing, squatting down under a homespun cloak. He crept up from behind and reached the person’s side without his knowing. Dhané took a good look: it was Sané Gharti, the Sahu’s plowman.59 When Dhané gently tugged Sané’s cloak, he jumped up in a fright to see Dhané standing behind him.

“You know I’m planting tomorrow, so why did you shut off my water, eh?” Dhané said in a threatening tone of voice.

“Is there any need to waste water on that useless radish patch in the marsh? The Sahu’s fields have had no water since they were first planted.”

“Do the marshy fields need water, you ask? Didn’t you know, you serf? Didn’t you know it was my turn today? When your turn comes you will probably irrigate your fields all night.”

“What do you mean, ‘turn’? This is all borrowed from the Sahu: the fields, the ditches. Other people only get a turn after the Sahu’s fields are full.”

“Will you go and talk like this when it’s time for me to pay him his share of the crop? This serf lives on the Sahu’s scraps, and he talks high and mighty like this!”

“Don’t call me ‘serf’! I don’t owe you my living! Do you think I’ll act on your orders? I came to divert the water on the orders of the Sahu’s son.”

“What name should I give to a sponger, then? We’ll see how your Sahu’s son is going to collect my rent this time!”

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