The Waterspirit and Other Stories by Imran Hussain

Author:Imran Hussain
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperPerennial
Published: 2015-05-27T00:00:00+00:00

Pokhila

(The Butterfly)

Togor sat down on reaching the bank of the little stream. Just across the little bamboo bridge lay her own village, and right in the middle of that village was that little sparse hut, her home. Just a little way ahead now, yet her body seemed to give up and she felt incapable of going any further. She must have been running through the lonely forest road for almost an hour now. She sat down on a flat rock, gasping for breath as her heart pounded, as if in time with her gasps.

Nine months ago, her perfectly healthy older brother succumbed to just a night’s vomitting, blood dysentery and fever and left them bereft. Her tuberculosis-stricken father was not fit for any work. It was not as if the neigbours did not lend a helping hand, they did. Nevertheless, the household that could barely put together two square meals a day found themselves having to go without any on some days. That was perhaps the reason why little Togor had to set aside her playmates, their newborn goat kids, when her mother almost forced her to go and work as a domestic help at the Mondol’s house. A mere child then, Togor was thin as a reed, all skin and bones. Even before the turn of the year, all that changed as Togor blossomed, and health and vigour filled out her frail frame. Her limbs grew soft and rounded, her cheeks filled up with a rosy tenderness. As she grew into adolescence, her breasts swelled. As youth smiled on her, the ever-sickly wife of the Mondol took on the harshest of tones while speaking to her. In sharp contrast was the tone of the Mondol’s voice – it grew increasingly softer. And one afternoon, asking her to pluck out his grey hairs, he furtively placed his palm on her tender, bamboo shoot-like breasts. That day, Togor felt no fear at all, instead, a strange unknown feeling seemed to crawl up her spine. After this, the robust and busy man turned his back on his regular land dealings and began to seek excuses to stay at home. He began to need endless glasses of water, began to complain of frequent headaches and asked for head massages and Togor had to leave aside all her chores to tend to him.

A little clandestine touch, a covert thrill, a little curiosity filled those fleeting moments. But today, Togor experienced something else altogether, a most foul and repugnant experience. Leaving Togor to clean up and wash the vessels in the afternoon, the Mondol’s wife proceeded to their neighbours in order to have a look at the Zoron, the trousseau that they had got ready for their son’s bride. The little one also followed his mother. Hardly had the woman crossed the threshold, that the Mondol called out for a glass of water. No sooner had Togor reached the room with the glass of water that the Mondol pounced upon her and forced her into bed.

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