by Satyajit Ray
As I watched intently, it suddenly seemed as if the ant was not an ant any more but a man. In fact, it reminded me of Jhontu’s brother-in-law who had slipped down the bank into a pond while fishing and, not being able to swim, wildly thrashed his arms about to keep himself afloat. In the end he was saved by Jhontu’s elder brother and their servant Narahari.
As soon as I recalled the incident, I had a wish to save the ant.
Although I had fever, I jumped out of bed, ran out of the room, rushed into my father’s study and tore off a piece of blotting paper from his writing pad. Then I ran back into my room, jumped onto the bed and held the blotting paper such that its edge touched the drop of water. The water was sucked up in no time.
The suddenly rescued ant seemed not to know which way to go. It rushed about this way and that for a while, and then disappeared down the drainpipe on the far side of the sill.
No more ants appeared on the sill that day.
The next day the fever went up. Around midday Mother came and said, ‘Why are you staring at the window? You should try and get some sleep.’
I shut my eyes to please Mother, but as soon as she left, I opened them again and looked at the drainpipe.
In the afternoon, when the sun was behind the madar tree, I saw an ant poking its head out of the mouth of the pipe.
Suddenly it came out and started to move about briskly on the sill.
Although all black ants look alike, I somehow had the feeling that this was the same ant which had nearly drowned yesterday. I had acted as its friend, so it had come to pay me a visit.
I had made my plans beforehand. I had brought some sugar from the pantry, wrapped it up in paper and put it beside my pillow. I now opened the wrapper, took out a large grain of sugar and put it on the sill.
The ant seemed startled and stopped in its tracks. Then it cautiously approached the sugar and prodded it with its head from all sides. Then it suddenly made for the drainpipe and disappeared into it.
I thought: that’s odd. I gave it such a nice grain of sugar and it left it behind. Why did it have to come at all if not for food?
The doctor came in a short while. He felt my pulse, looked at my tongue and placed the stethoscope on my chest and back. Then he said that I must take some more of the bitter mixture and the fever would go in a couple of days. That didn’t make me happy at all. No fever meant going to school, and going to school meant not watching the drainpipe in the afternoon when the ants came out. Anyway, as soon as the doctor left, I turned towards the window and was delighted to see a whole army of black ants coming out of the drainpipe onto the sill. The leader must be the ant I knew, and it must have informed the other ants of the grain of sugar and led them to it.
Watching for a while I was able to see for myself how clever the ants were. All the ants now banded together to push the grain towards the drainpipe. I can’t describe how funny it was, I imagined that if they had been coolies pushing a heavy weight, they’d have shouted, ‘All together, heave ho! A little further, heave ho! That’s the spirit, heave ho!’
After my fever was gone, school was a bore for a few days. My thoughts would go back again and again to the window-sill. There must be ants coming there every afternoon. I would leave a few grains of sugar on the sill every morning before going to school, and when I returned in the afternoon I would find them gone.
In the class I used to sit at a desk towards the middle of the room. Beside me sat Sital. One day I was a little late and found Phani sitting in my place. So I had no choice but to sit at the back of the class, in front of the wall. In the last period before recess we read history. In his thin, piping voice Haradhan Babu the history teacher was describing how brave Hannibal was. Hannibal had led an army from Carthage and had crossed the Alps to invade Italy.
As I listened, I suddenly had the feeling that Hannibal’s army was in the classroom and was on the march very close to me.
I looked around and my eyes travelled to the wall behind me. Down the wall ran a long line of ants—hundreds of small black ants, exactly like a mighty army on the way to battle.
I looked down and found a crack in the wall near the floor through which the ants were going out.
As soon as the bell rang for the recess, I ran out to the back of our classroom and spotted the crack. The ants were coming out of it and making their way through the grass towards a guava tree.
I followed the ants and found, at the foot of the guava tree, something which can only be described as a castle.
It was a mound of earth with a tiny opening at the base through which the ants entered.
I had a great urge to look inside that castle.
I had my pencil in my pocket, and with its tip I began to dig carefully into the mound. At first I found nothing inside, but on digging a little further, I had the surprise of my life. I found there were countless small chambers inside the mound, and a maze of passages leading from one chamber to another. How very strange! How could the ants build such a castle with their tiny arms and legs? How could they be so clever? Did they have schools where they were taught? Did they also learn from books, draw pictures, build things? Did that mean they were no different from human beings except in looks? How was it that they could build their own house while tigers, elephants, bears and horses couldn’t? Even Bhulo, my pet dog, couldn’t.
Of course, birds build nests. But how many birds can live in a single nest? Can the birds build a castle where thousands of them can live?
Because I had spoilt a part of the mound, there was a great flurry amongst the ants. I felt sorry for them. I thought: now that I have done them harm, I must make up by doing them a good turn, or they will look upon me as their enemy, which I am not. I was truly their friend.
So the next day I took half of a sweetmeat which Mother gave me to eat, wrapped it up in a sal leaf and carried it in my pocket to school. Just before the bell rang for the classes to begin, I put the sweetmeat by the anthill. The ants would have to travel to find food; today they’d find it right at their doorstep. Surely this was doing them a good turn.
In a few weeks the summer holidays began and my friendship with ants began to grow. I would tell the elders about my observations of how ants behaved, but they paid no attention to me. What really put my back up was that they laughed at me. So I decided not to tell anybody anything. Whatever I did, I would do on my own and keep what I learned to myself.
One day, in the afternoon, I sat by the compound wall of Pintu’s house watching a hill made by red ants. People will say that you can’t sit near red ants for long because they bite. I had been bitten by red ants myself, but of late I had noticed that they didn’t bite me any more. So I was watching them without fear when I suddenly saw Chhiku striding up.
I haven’t mentioned Chhiku yet. His real name is Srikumar. He is in the same class as me, but he must be older than me because there’s a thin line of moustache above his lips. Chhiku is a bully, so nobody likes him. I usually don’t meddle with him because he is stronger than me. Chhiku saw me and called out, ‘You there, you silly ass, what are you doing squatting there on the ground?’ I didn’t pay any attention to him. He came up towards me. I kept my eyes on the ants.
Chhiku drew up and said, ‘Well, what are you up to? I don’t like the look of it.’
I made no attempt to hide what I was doing and told him the truth. Chhiku made a face and said, ‘What do you mean—watching ants? What is there to watch? And aren’t there ants in your own house that you have to come all the way here?’
I felt very angry. What was it to him what I did? Why did he have to poke his nose into other people’s affairs?
I said, ‘I’m watching them because I like doing so. You know nothing about ants. Why don’t you mind your own business? Why come and bother me?’
Chhiku hissed like an angry cat and said, ‘So you like watching ants, eh? Well–there! There!’ Before I could do or say anything, Chhiku had levelled the anthill with three vicious jabs of his heel, there
by squashing at least 500 ants.
Chhiku gave a hollow laugh and was about to walk away when something suddenly happened to me. I jumped up on Chhiku’s back, grabbed hold of his hair, and knocked his head four or five times against Pintu’s compound wall. Then I let go of him. Chhiku burst into tears and went off.
When I got back home, I learnt that Chhiku had already been there to complain against me.
But I was surprised when at first Mother neither scolded nor beat me. Perhaps she hadn’t believed Chhiku, because I had never hit anyone before. Besides, Mother knew that I was scared of Chhiku. But when Mother asked what had happened, I couldn’t lie to her.
Mother was very surprised. ‘You mean you really bashed his head against the wall?’
I said, ‘Yes, I did. And why only Chhiku? I would do the same to anyone who trampled on anthills.’ This made Mother so angry that she slapped me.
It was a Saturday. Father came back from the office early. When he heard from Mother what had happened he locked me up in my room.
Although my cheeks smarted from the slaps, I wasn’t really sorry for myself. I was very sorry for the ants. Once in Sahibgunge where cousin Parimal lives, there was a collision between two trains which killed 300 people. Today it took Chhiku only a few seconds to kill so many ants!
It seemed so wrong, so very, very wrong.
As I lay in bed thinking of all that had happened, I suddenly felt a little chilly and had to draw the blanket over myself.
And then I went off to sleep. I was awakened by a strange noise.
A thin, high-pitched sound, very beautiful, going up and down in a regular beat, like a song.
My ears pricked up and I looked around but couldn’t make out where the sound came from. Probably someone far away was singing. But I had never heard such singing before.
Look who’s here! Coming out of the drainpipe while I was listening to the strange sound.
This time I clearly recognized it—the ant I had saved from drowning. It was facing me and salaaming me by raising its two front legs and touching its head with them. What shall I call this black creature? Kali, Krishna? I must think about it. After all, one can’t have a friend without a name. I put my hand on the window-sill, palm upwards. The ant brought his legs down from his head and crawled slowly towards my hand. Then it climbed up my little finger and started scurrying over the criss-cross lines on my palm.
Just then I started as I heard a sound from the door, and the ant clambered down and disappeared into the drainpipe.
Now Mother came into the room and gave me a glass of milk. Then she felt my forehead and said I had fever again.
Next morning the doctor came. Mother said, ‘He has been restless the whole night, and kept saying “Kali” again and again.’ Mother probably thought I was praying to the Goddess Kali, because I hadn’t told her about my new friend.
The doctor had put the stethoscope on my back when I heard the song again. It was louder than yesterday and the tune was different. It seemed to come from the window, but since the doctor had asked me to keep still, I couldn’t turn my head to see.
The doctor finished his examination, and I cast a quick glance towards the window. Hello there! It was a large black ant this time, and this one too was salaaming me. Are all ants my friends then?
And was it this ant which was singing?
But Mother said nothing about a song. Did it mean that she couldn’t hear it?
I turned towards Mother to ask her, and found her staring at the ant with fear in her eyes. The next moment she picked up my arithmetic note-book from the table, leaned over me and with one slap of the book squashed the ant. The same moment the singing stopped.
‘The whole house is crawling with ants!’ said Mother. ‘Just think what would happen if one crawled inside your ear.’
The doctor left after giving me an injection. I looked at the dead ant. He was killed while singing a beautiful song. Just like my great-uncle Indranath. He too used to sing classical songs, which I didn’t understand very well. One day he was playing the tanpura and singing when he suddenly died. When he was taken to the crematorium in a procession, a group of keertan singers went along singing songs. I watched it and still remember it, although I was then very small.
And then a strange thing happened. I fell asleep after the injection and dreamed that, like the funeral of great-uncle Indranath, a dozen or so ants were bearing the dead ant on their shoulders while a line of ants followed singing a chorus.
I woke up in the afternoon when Mother put her cool hand on my forehead.
I glanced at the window and found that the dead ant was no longer there.
This time the fever kept on for several days. No wonder, because everyone in the house had started killing ants. How can the fever go if you have to listen to the screaming of ants all day long?
And there was another problem. While the ants were being killed in the pantry, hordes of ants turned up on my window-sill and wept. I could see that they wanted me to do something for them—either stop the killing or punish those who were doing the misdeed. But since I was laid up with fever, I could do nothing about it. Even if I were well, how could a small boy like me stop the elders from what they were doing?
But one day, I was forced to do something about it.
I don’t exactly remember what day it was, but I do remember that I had woken up at the crack of dawn and right away heard Mother announcing that an ant had got into Phatik’s ear and bitten him.
I was tickled by the news but just then I heard the slapping of brooms on the floor and knew that they were killing ants.
Then a very strange thing happened. I heard thin voices shouting, ‘Help us! Help us, please!’ I looked at the window and found that a large group of ants had gathered on the sill and were running around wildly.
Hearing them cry out I could no longer keep calm. I forgot about my fever, jumped out of bed and ran out of the room. At first I didn’t know what to do. Then I took up a clay pot which was lying on the floor and smashed it. Then I started to smash all the things I could find which would break. It was a clever ruse because it certainly stopped the killing of ants. But it made my parents, my aunt, my cousin Sabi all come out of their rooms, grab hold of me, put me back on my bed and lock the door of my room.
I had a good laugh, though, and the ants on my window kept saying, ‘Thank you! Thank you!’ and went back into the drainpipe again.
Soon after this I had to leave home. The doctor examined me one day and said I should be sent to hospital for treatment.
Now I am in a hospital room. I’ve been here these last four days.
The first day I felt very sad because the room was so clean that I knew there couldn’t be any ants in it. Being a new room, there were no cracks or holes in the walls. There wasn’t even a cupboard for ants to hide under or behind it. But there was a mango tree just outside the window, and one of its branches was within reach.
I thought if there was a place to find ants it would be on that branch.
But the first day I couldn’t get near the window. How could I, since I was never alone? Either the nurse, or the doctor, or someone from my house was always in the room. The second day too was just as bad.
I was so upset that I threw a medicine bottle on the floor and broke it. It made the doctor quite angry. He was not a nice doctor, this new one. I could tell that from his bristling moustache and from the thick glasses he wore.
On the third day, something happened. There was only a nurse in my room then, and she was reading a book. I was in bed wondering what to do. I heard a thud and saw that the book had slipped from the nurse’s hand and fallen on the floor. The nurse had dozed off.
I got down from the bed and tiptoed to the window. Leaning out of the window and stretching my body as far as it would go, I grabbed hold of the mango branch and began to pull it towards me.
This made a noise which woke up the nurse, and then the fireworks started.
The nurse gave a scr
eam, came rushing towards me and, wrapping her arms around me, dragged me to the bed and dumped me on it. Others too came into the room just then, so I could do nothing more.
The doctor promptly gave me an injection.
I could make out from what they were saying that they thought I had meant to throw myself out of the window. Silly people! If I had thrown myself from such a height, all my bones would have been crushed and I would have died.
After the doctor left I felt sleepy. I thought of the window by my bed at home and felt very sorry. Who knew when I would be back home again?
I had nearly fallen asleep when I heard a thin voice saying, ‘Sepoys at your service, sir—sepoys at your service!’
I opened my eyes and saw two large red ants standing with their chests out by the medicine bottle on the bedside table.
They must have climbed onto my hand from the mango branch without my knowing it.
I said, ‘Sepoys?’
The answer came, ‘Yes, sir—at your service.’
‘What are your names?’ I asked them.
One said, ‘Lal Bahadur Singh.’ And the other said, ‘Lal Chand Pandey.’ I was very pleased. But I warned them to go into hiding when people came into the room, or they might be killed. Lal Chand and Lal Bahadur salaamed and said, ‘Very well, sir.’ Then the two of them sang a lovely duet which lulled me to sleep.
I must tell you right away what happened yesterday, because it’s nearly five and the doctor will be here soon. In the afternoon I was watching Lal Chand and Lal Bahadur wrestling on the table while I lay in bed. I was supposed to be asleep, but the pills and the injection hadn’t worked. Or, to be quite truthful, I wilfully kept myself awake. If I slept in the afternoon, when would I play with my new friends?
The two ants fought gamely and it was hard to say who would win when suddenly there was a sound of heavy footsteps. The doctor was coming!
I made a sign and Lal Bahadur promptly disappeared below the table. But Lal Chand had been thrown on his back and was thrashing his legs about, so he couldn’t run away. And that was what caused the nasty incident.
