Short Story by Deepak Sharma
Translated by Madhu B. Joshi
I know they call me a babbler, a gossip-monger, a Nosey Parker behind my back.
Do you actually believe I invade the privacy of others? That I enjoy detecting and divulging their secrets?
You may even think I love spilling tales to people? Or that I often jump to wrong conclusions and distort the reality of others?
You are mistaken, dear…
Highly mistaken.
The fact is that I am above all manipulation. I never twist anyone’s truth. I just pull facts out of the shadow of doubt and provide veracity.
I believe women must have te^te- e -te^te and intimate conversations amongst themselves.
Conversations among us are a great source of building, maintaining and improving relationships.The basis of our inner strength and unity. The medium that allows us to view personal events in the context of social reality.
Let me narrate one instance now.
The other day I went to my neighbour Kanta’s house driven as much by curiosity as with sympathy. You might ask- why?
It so happened that the night before when I saw her husband, Anil, guffawing and chatting with
Nalini a little too much at the anniversary party of the college principal, I joined them and
confronted him, “Kanta is not here?”
And I got the reply, ‘No, she is out of town…visiting her family.”
Now, how could I have accepted this statement as true when I knew Kanta was very much at home and that she had not gone to her family and will not even be going there at all. I am her neighbor. We live in adjacent residential units in the staff quarters on the college campus. The very next morning took me to Kanta.
“Why didn’t you come to the party yesterday?” I asked Kanta as soon as the door opened.
“I was not feeling well,” Kanta looked worried and distressed.
“You were not around so Anil spent most of his time with Nalini. And do you know what she wore to the party? An off- shoulder top and a skirt ending at her knees ……”
“Well, she is not married,’ Kanta mumbled,”she is a free bird. All the more reason for her to
flaunt herself.”
Anil and my husband are senior lecturers in the biology department of the college and Nalini has recently been posted,here, at Kasbapur, as the newly appointed lecturer in the same department.
“And where did this idea of you going to your parents’ home spring from? Anil said you had gone to visit your family…”
“This is what Anil is harping on. He wants to send me to my parents’ home. I don’t want to go
there.”
“So that is what it is! I wondered just why you would go there. At this time when the children
have school…”
Kanta had shared with me that since her father’s death, her three brothers had taken over his business and house and were busy chasing their own separate interests. Her sisters-in-law and nephews and nieces,too,did not bother at all for Kanta’s well-being,while her mother had passed
away years ago.
“But Anil is hellbent on sending me there,” Kanta bawled.
Just then a car stopped outside.
“Anil is back,”Kanta stood up instantly, “and I have yet not packed my suitcase…”
Kanta hurried towards her bedroom as I stepped out on the verandah.
“Yes Ma’m? Wish you had come some other time. Kanta has to leave right now,” Anil made no
secret of his displeasure on seeing me there.
“I came to see Kanta. She is very much here. Not at her home town. Actually I have even advised her not to visit her family at this point of time. There is no point leaving you, the children and home unattended so abruptly. ”
“Her elder niece is getting engaged. That entire family insists she must attend the engagement. She could not get a confirmed ticket yesterday. Today,of course, I did manage to get a confirmed one …” Anil folded his hands as a concluding gesture and moved towards the living room, “See you later…”
“Please return that ticket”, I followed him into the living room,“I have coaxed Kanta to visit her family when the children’s school is closed for holidays…”
“I will check with Kanta,” Anil stepped into the inner room.
I did not sit in the living room. I went and stood near the fridge at its other end. To eavesdrop. The fridge was closer to the bedroom.
“Why did you call that tattletale here?” Anil hissed,“To petition to her? To plead?”
“I didn’t ask her to come,” Kanta replied.
“Well! Send that tattler back. Had her husband not been my senior, I would have personally
pushed her out.”
“I can’t ask her to go away,” Kanta whimpered.
“Kanta,” I felt I had to register my presence then and called her out again loudly, “Kanta…” Anil appeared almost immediately with a suitcase.
“Sorry, Ma’m. Please excuse us. Kanta is in a hurry to leave. Her brother and sister-in-law won’t take a no. Kanta has to be there for the engagement…”
“No,”I settled myself on a sofa,“I have to talk to Kanta before I go. If she is going there I would like to ask her to get me some stuff from her hometown.”
“What stuff?” Anil’s face flushed.
“They make great papads and badis there, I will order some…”
“Let me see what is taking Kanta so long,” Anil hurried inside.
A moment later I heard a scream. It was Anil’s.
“What happened?” I rushed in the direction of the scream.
“Kanta has slashed her wrist with my shaving blade,” Anil stood trembling in the bathroom next to his bedroom. On the floor an almost unconscious Kanta lay holding her bloody wrist, her face blanched.
I picked up a towel and walked towards Kanta. I lifted her injured arm above the level of her heart and placed it on my shoulder. Located the artery coming towards her wrist and tied the
towel tightly on it to stem the flow of gushing blood.
“We have to take Kanta to the trauma centre. Let Kanta lie on the back seat of your car. I will keep her head on my lap and will stay with her till she regains consciousness …..” I said.
On the way to the trauma centre Anil broke the silence, “Kanta should have thought twice before slashing her wrist. Why did she not consider how the children will react? What will people say? How I will be slandered in college…how our names will appear in newspapers…and how it will cause such a scandal ….No, she did not bother at all …. Just because she wanted to die, she had to be dead…”
“Why do you think she will not survive? Why do you wish to scare Kanta further?” I stopped Anil in the midst of his rant,“She will survive. She will definitely survive. We should spend this time in prayer and hope …”
There were three doctors at the trauma centre.
One of them stepped forward and examined Kanta.
“First,” said he after examining her hand,”we have to clean her wrist and then find out how deep the wound is and what all has been damaged. There are so many muscles and nerves in the wrist! Then there are the ten bones of the fingers and the two arteries which bring blood from the heart…radial and ulnar…”
“My wife will survive, I hope?’ Anil became impatient.
“Lets see…”
Kanta was taken to the ICU.
Stockstill, Anil and I kept vigil outside the ICU.
The doctors there took quite some time to bring Kanta back to normal.
And their efforts did succeed.
“You are lucky,” the doctor came out and congratulated us,“Both the radial nerve and the radial artery at the wrist were saved. We have stitched the vein. The cut was horizontal. Not vertical.
The good thing is you brought her here well in time and first aid had already been administered. Otherwise, a lot of blood would have been lost and we would have had to transfuse blood.”
“I was the one who gave her first aid,” I looked triumphantly at Anil “The tattler!”
“Please, don’t shame me,” Anil folded his hands in my direction,“Had you not been at our house
today, a tragedy would have taken place……”
Regret and remorse were clearly stamped on his face.
“I have something more to say to you,” the doctor addressed Anil, his tone dripping with
sarcasm, ‘Your wife should not have had to cut her wrist. She is not mentally ill, nor does she
want to die. It appears she found herself trapped and wanted to seek help.Your wife did cut her
wrist, but with caution.She did not let the blade go too deep…”
“When would you be releasing her?” Anil grew impatient.
“You could take her home right now. Of course, she would need to rest for a few days.”
“I will bring the car from the parking lot to the gate here,” Anil found a halfway decent escape from more rebuke.
Kanta was brought out of the ICU on a wheelchair.
On finding me there, she wept, “I owe my life to you. I shall remain indebted to you all my
life…”
“What?” I bent over her and kissed her forehead, “Wouldn’t you have helped me had I been in
your place?”
Deepak Sharma –
Famous Hindi storyteller, b. November 30, 1946 (Lahore, undivided India).
Twenty-three story collections published in Hindi: Chuninda Kahaniyaan (2023), Neeli Guitar (2022), Previous Grass (2021), Ran-Marg (1996), Bavandar (1995), Parakh-Kaal (1994), Durg-Bhed (1994) ), Hinsabhas (1993) etc.
Honor: Sahitya Bhushan Samman-2019 (Uttar Pradesh Hindi Institute). Retired from the post of Chairperson, Reader, Post Graduate English Department of Lucknow Christian College.