The Guru of Love by Samrat Upadhyay

Author:Samrat Upadhyay [Upadhyay, Samrat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: nepalifiction, TPB, Nepal
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

In Naxal, a swing had been set up on a small field between a school and a row of houses. Children in brand-new clothes were swinging high on the babiyo rope that dangled from tall bamboo sticks. Some children already had the bright red tika on their foreheads, with the yellow jamara tucked behind their ears. The lullaby he’d sung to Rachana echoed in Ramchandra’s mind. Looking warm but happy, families walked the streets, dressed in their freshly tailored clothes, going to their relatives to get and to give tika. It was the day of victory over evil, when Lord Rama slew the monster Ravana, when Lord Durga triumphed over Mahisasur, the terrible demon that, in the guise of a buffalo, had wreaked havoc, piercing the air with its razor-sharp horns.

Laughter, shouting—all the joy of festivity—rang through the air under the clear blue sky. When Ramchandra passed some people he knew, they looked curiously at him in his crumpled clothes.

In the cluster of shops in Bhatbhateni, he found a telephone and called Pandey Palace. Mrs. Pandey answered, but when Ramchandra asked for Goma, she muttered, “Too many phone calls in this house,” banged the receiver down on something, and went to fetch Goma.

Ramchandra waited a long time for Goma to come to the phone. She didn’t say anything, but her breathing told him she was there.

“Goma, today is Tika. Please come home.”

After more silence, she said, “There’s nothing to come home to.”

“I miss the children.”

She said nothing.

“At least let me come over and put tika on the children. Otherwise...” His voice caught in his throat, and he coughed.

Two other voices, a man’s and a woman’s, echoed within the wires like distant bells in a cross-connection. Ramchandra heard terms of endearment and then the woman’s voice saying that she’d written a poem for the man. “Okay, you can come and visit them,” Goma said. “But only for tika. They won’t leave with you.”

Is it a love poem? the man asked, and Goma hung up.

Ramchandra checked his wallet; he wanted to give something to the children. He had about two hundred rupees and would give each of them fifty. He’d never before given them such a large sum—usually he gave them no more than twenty rupees—but money was the least of his concerns right now.

To his consternation, it was Nalini who opened the door at Pandey Palace. As soon as she saw Ramchandra, she pursed her lips and said, “The children will be with you shortly. You can sit in the living room.”

Her coldness stung Ramchandra. Had Goma told her what had happened? He waited a long time, wondering where everyone was, why no one offered him a cup of tea. Then Sanu and Rakesh came in, wearing their new clothes, and already with their tika and jamara. Ramchandra immediately noticed Sanu’s somber face. Rakesh jumped into his lap. “Ba, look how much Grandfather gave me,” and opened his fist to reveal a hundred-rupee bill. Even on his most generous day, Ramchandra couldn’t keep up with his in-laws.

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