Srikanta

by Saratchandra Chattopadhyay

  When we reached the burning-ghat the sun still blazed, high over the horizon. We tied the boat to the exposed roots of a gigantic banyan tree that stood just beyond it, and started walking through the forest. A hundred yards away from the bank we came upon a goat track winding away to the right. Indranath took it and I followed. Ten minutes later a dilapidated hut fenced in with wattles came into view. Indranath untied the rope with which the fence was fastened, pushed it open and went in beckoning me to follow. Then he secured the fence once again retying the rope with care. I stared around me for I had never seen such a dwelling-place in all my life. Set in the heart of the forest, the hut was overshadowed by two huge trees—an enormous fig whose branches towered up to the sky and a great shaggy tamarind—so that even in mid-afternoon there was a sense of impending dusk. A flock of hens came cackling out at the sound of our footsteps and a couple of goats, tied to the tamarind tree, bleated dolefully. As we approached the hut the sight of a huge python coiling and uncoiling in the yard sent me scrambling up the wattle fence to the utter panic of the hens who scratched and fluttered wildly. Indra gave a merry laugh and, picking up the python by the neck, threw it on one side. ‘He is quite harmless, Srikanta,’ he said. ‘His name is Rahim.’

  Still seated on the fence I looked around me. On the threshold of the hut, on a pile of filthy sacking and rags, lay a man as thin and brittle as a bamboo. He was racked with a violent fit of coughing. He had long tangled hair wound up in a knot high on his head and rows of beads round his neck. He wore saffron robes which were torn and dirty and his long beard was tied to his matted locks with a filthy turban. I recognized him instantly by his garb. He was a snake-charmer whom I had often seen wandering about our town with his gourd flute and basket of snakes. Five or six months earlier he had performed in our own courtyard. This man, whom Indra addressed as Shahji, motioned to us to sit down, then pointed to the hookah, chillum and pile of ganja that lay in one corner. Indra got up instantly and, preparing the ganja, brought it to him without a word. Shahji paused in his coughing and took a deep draught covering his nose and mouth with his left hand so that not a whiff of the precious smoke was wasted. Then, giving his head a violent shake, he passed the hookah to Indra saying, ‘Piyo (Smoke).’

  Indra pushed it away and shook his head. Shahji threw him a look of surprise as if to ask, ‘Why not?’ But before Indra could enlighten him he had gripped the hookah with both hands and recommenced sucking at it with greedy lips. Pull after pull he took of the noxious substance in between fits of a rasping cough that threatened to shatter his emaciated chest. Finally, when all the drug was consumed, he put down the hookah and proceeded to converse with Indra in a low voice. I could hear little of what was being said and I understood still less but I noticed one thing—Shahji was speaking in Hindi and Indranath in Bengali.

  As the afternoon waned Shahji’s voice rose higher and higher and became increasingly hysterical. A stream of filthy abuses issued from his lips. Had I known then, as I do now, to whom they were addressed, I would have grabbed the old man by his beard and shaken the life out of him. Suddenly his voice trailed away and his body crumpled up like a bundle of orange rags and became still. Indra and I sat silently watching the scene. Then, bored with the long conversation and its aftermath, I said, ‘It will soon be dark, Indra. Let’s go to your Didi.’

  ‘I’m waiting for Didi. This is her home.’

  ‘But these people are snake-charmers. They are Mussalmans,’ I said, shocked beyond belief.

  Indra’s face paled and his eyes reflected some inner pain. ‘That’s not the whole truth,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll tell you about it someday.’ Then, equally swiftly, his mood changed. With a merry gleam in his eye he said, ‘I can charm snakes, Srikanta. Do you want to see me try?’ Dashing into the hut he brought out Shahji’s flute and basket of snakes. Lifting the lid of the basket just a little, Indra put the flute to his lips.

  ‘Don’t open the basket, please, Indra,’ I begged. ‘What if a cobra comes out?’

  Indra did not bother to reply. Swaying his head to the strains of his flute in the manner of snake-charmers, he uncovered the basket. I watched in horror as an immense cobra shot up three feet high and, darting a wicked-looking forked tongue from its fanned out hood, stung viciously at the basket lid. Then, lashing out at the gourd flute in Indra’s hand, it slithered out of the basket and crawled inside the hut. Indra leaped into the yard with a startled exclamation and I ran to the safety of the wattle fence with shaking legs.

  ‘It’s a different snake,’ Indra’s voice trembled with shock. ‘It’s not the one I know. This one is absolutely wild.’

  Fear, helplessness and anger brought tears to my eyes. ‘Why did you do such a thing? What if it comes out and bites Shahji?’ I asked.

  Indra looked guilty and ashamed, ‘Shall I close the door of the hut? But perhaps it is hiding just behind the door.’ Then suddenly losing his temper, he shouted, ‘Serves the old rascal right if he gets bitten. Stuffing himself with ganja and keeping wild snakes in the basket. Ah! Here is Didi. Don’t come near. Stay just where you are.’

  I turned around and looked at Indra’s Didi. ‘Fire smouldering beneath ashes,’ I thought. There was an expression in her eyes that I could not fathom. It conveyed a sense, dimly—for I was little more than a child then—of unswaying devotion to something held dear over centuries and aeons, through many cycles of human life. She was wearing a yellow sari and lac bangles in the manner of Mussalman women of Bihar but in the parting of her hair the vermilion mark of Hindu wifehood burned like a flame. Against her left hip she held a stack of firewood and a small basket filled with greens and vegetables dangled from her right hand.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked as, putting down her wood, she proceeded to untie the rope that secured the fence.

  ‘Don’t come in,’ Indra called out excitedly. ‘A huge snake has escaped from the basket and is crawling about the hut.’

  She smiled up at me and spoke in Bengali. ‘It is strange, is it not, that a snake should be found in a snake-charmer’s hut? What do you say, Srikanta?’ Then, turning to Indranath she asked, ‘How did it escape?’

  ‘It crawled out of the basket. It is a wild snake. Shahji has had a lot of ganja and is fast asleep. He won’t wake now even if we scream our lungs out. What shall we do?’

  Didi smiled and said, ‘So you took the opportunity of showing off your snake-charming skills to Srikanta. But never mind. I’ll catch it for you.’

  ‘No, Didi, no!’ Indranath pleaded, ‘I won’t let you touch it. It will kill you.’

  Didi’s eyes misted as they gazed at Indranath. ‘Silly boy,’ she said in a voice of infinite tenderness. ‘Nothing will happen to your Didi. I’ll catch it in a minute.’

  Picking up a lamp that hung from the bamboo machan she lit it and entered the hut. Within seconds she was back, the snake dangling from her right fist. Without a word she shoved it into the basket and shut the lid. Indra ran to her and touched her feet. She stroked his face lovingly and touched her fingertips to her lips.

  Five

  ON HEARING INDRA’S ACCOUNT OF THE EVENING’S EVENTS DIDI shuddered and said, ‘It was very wrong of you to play with danger like that. What if the snake’s fangs had touched your hand instead of the flute? Promise me you’ll never do such a thing again.’

  Indranath beamed at her. ‘I’m not such a fool, Didi, that I did not protect myself first. See what I’ve got?’ Untying a knot in the corner of his dhoti he brought out a tiny dried up root tied with a thread. ‘If I hadn’t had this with me I could never have escaped. I begged and begged Shahji and at last he gave it to me.’ He thought for a few moments and added, ‘And even if the snake had bitten me, so what? I would have woken Shahji up and got him to apply the poison stone. How long does it take the stone to suck out the poison? Half an hour? One hour? No, it doesn’t take that long, does it, Didi?’

  Didi’s eyes were on him but she did not speak. Indra went on excitedly, ‘You have
so many poison stones, Didi. Why don’t you give me one? I’ve been asking you for ages.’ His voice changed—became sullen and resentful. ‘I do everything I can to please you and you keep putting me off. If you don’t want to give it to me why don’t you say so straight out and I’ll stop coming.’

  Indranath was too full of his own grievances to see anything around him but I noticed the shame and anguish that crept into Didi’s face. Forcing a smile on her wan lips she asked Indranath, ‘So you come to your Didi’s house only for poison stones and snake-charms, Indra?’

  ‘What else?’ Indra said bluntly and, glancing at the sleeping Shahji, he muttered, ‘He doesn’t teach me anything. He only takes my money. But I’m not going to depend on him anymore. I know, from the way you caught the snake, that you are no less than Shahji. I’m going to learn all the mantras from you.’ Glancing once again at the pile of rags in the corner he said reverently, ‘Shahji smokes ganja and all that but he is a genius, Srikanta. He can put life into a corpse three days old. Can you do that, Didi?’

  A peal of laughter burst from Didi’s lips and died in the air in a few moments. An unnatural calm descended. But Indra neither saw nor heard. ‘You can’t fool me,’ he went on, ‘you’ve learned everything from Shahji. I know that. Just teach me all you know and I’ll be your slave for the rest of my life. How many corpses have you raised, Didi?’

  ‘I can’t put life into the dead, Indranath,’ Didi said quietly.

  ‘Shahji hasn’t taught you that? Then it must be very very difficult. But he has surely taught you to fly cowries?’

  ‘I haven’t even heard of flying cowries.’

  Indra looked at her with disbelief in his eyes. ‘Don’t pretend. Of course you know all about it.’ Then turning to me, he asked: ‘Have you ever seen flying cowries, Srikanta? You take two cowries, murmur some mantras and throw them out of the window. They fly through the air till they spot a snake. Then they stick fast to the snake’s hood and fly back to you dragging the snake behind them.’

  Turning to Didi he continued, ‘Even if you haven’t learned to fly cowries you must have learned all the other arts. Like sealing the body, sealing the house, throwing dust and all that. And if you haven’t, how did you catch the snake?’

  Didi sat silent for a while. Then raising her head, she said, ‘I have no knowledge of such things, Indra, even though I am a snake-charmer’s wife. The reason for that—well, it is a long story. I would like to tell it to you and Srikanta. It will be a load off my chest. I have carried it for a long time. Too long.’ Her voice trailed away and her eyes resumed their old expression. She caught our gaze and added, ‘Will you believe me?’

  I spoke up for the first time that evening, ‘I’ll believe every word you say, Didi.’

  She turned to me with a smile. ‘I know you will. Only mean and base people shut their eyes to the truth and take pleasure in thinking ill of others.’

  Another stretch of silence. The shadows of twilight faded away and darkness set in. A sliver-thin moon rose high above the fig tree and its beams, filtering through the leaves, etched a pattern of light on the dim earth below. Suddenly her voice came out of the darkness, ‘I thought I would unburden myself tonight but I see that the time has not yet come. But I have something to say to you, Indra. Take my advice. Don’t run after Shahji anymore and don’t give him money. We have nothing to give you in return—neither charms nor mantras. We cannot raise the dead or send cowries flying through the air. I don’t know if anyone can. We certainly cannot.’

  I believed every word she said but Indranath, despite his long association with her, did not. He said angrily, ‘How did you catch the snake then?’

  ‘That was just a trick of the hand, Indra.’

  ‘It means you have cheated me all these months.’ Indra stood up and his voice trembled with fury. ‘Both of you have cheated me. You have taken my money and stuffed me up with lies and false promises. Cheats! Tricksters! Scoundrels! I’ll show you what’s what.’

  By the light of the kerosene lamp that burned dimly in a corner I saw Didi’s face turn as white as a sheet as she answered fearfully—hesitantly, ‘We are snake-charmers, Indra. Deceiving is our profession.’

  ‘I’ll take care of your profession. Just you wait.’ Indra dragged me away by the hand. ‘Let’s go, Srikanta. They’re both the same—liars and cheats. We won’t stay here a minute longer.’

  I could not blame Indranath, for his hopes had been cruelly dashed, but I could not take my eyes off Didi’s anguished face. I pulled my hand from Indra’s grip and taking the five rupees out of my pocket put them down where she sat. ‘I brought this for you. It is my own money,’ I said.

  Before Didi could say a word Indra pounced on the coins and picked them up. ‘You don’t have to give her anything, Srikanta. They’ve had enough from me. I don’t care now if they die of starvation.’

  ‘But I brought the money for Didi,’ I protested.

  ‘Don’t call her Didi. She’s no one of ours.’ Indra grabbed me by the shoulder and pushed me towards the fence.

  It was at this moment that Shahji woke up. Disturbed by the commotion and Indra’s loud voice he sat up and blinked. ‘Kya hua? Kya hua? (What’s the matter?)’ he asked looking from one face to another. Indra let go of me and rushed up to where he sat.

  ‘You old scoundrel!’ he shouted. ‘Stuffing me with lies! I’ll skin you alive and bury you in lime. Then we’ll see who comes to raise you from the dead.’

  Shahji sat like a statue—his eyes blank. We had reached the fence once more when his voice came out to us from the dark. For the first time that evening I heard him speak in Bengali. ‘Come here, Indranath. Tell me what has happened.’

  ‘You are frauds and tricksters,’ Indra said going back to the veranda. ‘You don’t know any mantras. Why did you lie to me? Why did you make me serve you like a slave and bring you money?’

  ‘Who told you I don’t know any mantras?’

  Indra pointed to the silent, bowed figure without any hesitation. ‘She did. She told me that deceiving is your profession.’

  On hearing these words Shahji’s eyes burned like live coals. Looking at them my blood froze. I watched in mute horror as he staggered up to where she sat and pushing away the matted locks from his face, asked in a terrible voice, ‘What did you tell Indranath?’

  Indra gave me a push and said, ‘Come on. Let’s go home. Can’t you see how late it is?’

  It was late but my feet would not move. I stood rooted to the ground till Indra grabbed my arm and dragged me to the fence.

  ‘Why did you tell him that?’ Shahji’s harsh tones floated out from behind us. There was no reply and we pressed on.

  We had hardly gone thirty yards when a blood-curdling cry shattered the silence of the night. Indra let go of my arm and ran in the direction of the hut. I followed but in my haste I was flung headlong into a vast bush of thorn berries that stood by the path. Extricating myself with difficulty, for I was pricked and scratched all over, it was some time before I reached the hut. Stepping into the yard I nearly stumbled over Didi’s unconscious form lying on the ground.

  At the other end, guru and disciple were engaged in a deadly combat. A murderous looking spear lay on the ground where they wrestled. Shahji had a wiry strength despite his thinness. But he was no match for Indranath. Within a few minutes Indra had flung him down and, sitting on his chest, had gripped his throat with both hands. I ran and pulled Indra away. Had I not done so, Shahji’s snake-charming career might have ended that night.

  When I managed to separate the two, after a lot of pulling and pushing, I noticed something that made me whimper in terror. Indra’s clothes were drenched with blood that flowed from a three-inch cut on his forearm. Tearing a strip from his dhoti he handed it to me and said, ‘Don’t cry, Srikanta. Tie this tightly round my arm. The drug-eating bastard threw the spear at me.’ Then, turning to Shahji, he said, ‘If you dare move an inch I’ll step on your throat and pull your tongue out. You d
on’t know me.’

  Shahji sat still, looking at him with the eyes of one of his own venomous snakes.

  ‘I don’t trust you,’ Indra continued, ‘you’re a murdering swine. I’m going to tie your hands.’ Yanking the snake-charmer’s turban off Shahji’s head Indra tied his wrists with strong knots. Shahji did not protest or try to stop him. He submitted to everything without a word.

  Indra picked up the heavy stick with which Shahji had struck Didi and threw it to one side. ‘Ungrateful wretch,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve given him so much money. I’ve even stolen for him. And he didn’t think twice before throwing the spear at me. Keep an eye on him, Srikanta. I must take care of Didi.’

  Sprinkling water on her face and fanning her vigorously Indra continued, ‘Ever since Didi told me not to give him money he has beaten her everyday. She said to me, “If you had earned it, Indra, I would have taken it from you but I can’t let you do what you are doing.” She made me swear that I would never bring Shahji any money again. He couldn’t take that. He beat her mercilessly. Didi earns a few rupees by selling dung cakes and wood. She feeds him out of that and even buys him ganja. But it isn’t enough for the dirty scoundrel. I’ll set the police after him or he’ll kill Didi some day. He’s a murderer. I know it.’