Alms in the Name of a Blind Horse by Singh Gurdial

Author:Singh, Gurdial [Singh, Gurdial]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rupa Publications India
Published: 2016-09-01T06:00:00+00:00

‘You play if you want to. I’m not interested,’ said an exasperated Melu.

‘That’s all. As they say, “she is looking for Baba’s shoulder after walking barely half a mile”. You’re really made for big things, man. You’ll go a long way.’ Dulla got up from the manji, making a face as though he had tasted something bitter.

Letting Melu be, both of them went and sat down upon a pile of sacks lying outside the shack. Pulling out a pack from his pocket, Dheeru started shuffling the cards. Dulla sat down upon a mud-soaked sack, without even dusting it. They threw a small, tattered piece of durrie in front of them. When Dheeru was dealing the cards, seeing a forlorn look in Melu’s eyes, Dulla laughed and said, ‘You know, friend, his story is quite similar to that of Kamli, in whose case, it doesn’t matter whether or not she goes to her in-laws’ house… Once, someone like Melu went to Dilli. When he returned after twelve years, someone asked, “So tell us, brother, what all did you see in Dilli?” And the brother says, “Well, nothing really.” The questioner was surprised and asked, “Oye, you saw nothing? Then, where were you, all this while? In a dark pit?” And the fellow retorts, “I simply used to practise this trick of doing ‘labour without rewards’ there”.’

On hearing Dulla’s words, Dheeru also started laughing loudly. Holding his cards close to his chest, he said, ‘Bhai Melu Singha, you are not fit to live here. It’d have been much better for you to have gone back to the village. There, you may still be able to do something. But what will a straight and simple man like you do in such a town? No one gives a dime if you ask for it. And they will take less than a minute to auction off a fellow like you, right there, at the crossroads.’

Lying quietly, Melu was gazing at two–three leaves, hanging precariously from a nearly withered branch of the mango tree. His companions were so completely lost in their game of cards that they seemed to have become oblivious of his physical injury, even his existence.

Carrying a hookah and walking in his peculiar flip-flop manner, almost like a plough heaving up and down, Shilta came and stood by Melu’s head. Rising, Melu sat up on the manji. First, Shilta kept staring towards Dulla and Dheeru, but when Melu was about to tie his turban, looking at his bandage, Shilta spoke in Baghri, ‘Bhai Melu, you seem to have injured yourself badly. You must apply a paste of turmeric mixed with mustard oil on it. It’ll heal very soon.’

Melu paid him no attention, whatsoever. Appraising Shilta’s tough, supple body, his dumb-bell like, ebony-black calf muscles and his grimy dhoti, pulled up from behind his knees, his thoughts drifted away, and a smile appeared on his face. ‘Now, look at this. Here, Shilta is also behaving like Lukmaan, the legendary vaid,’ Dheeru said in jest, looking at Shilta furtively.

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