Govinda Bahadur Malla ‘Gothale’
Translated into English by Komal Phuyal
I didn’t know it would happen that way, I didn’t know about it. My wife, who had just delivered a child, called me from her room and said, “Are you not going to the party today?”
I replied, “Why were you shouting? I thought it must have been very urgent. I haven’t forgotten about it.”
My heart was heavy right after I woke up in the morning. I felt as if I was in haste while selling rice and other goods at the grocery. I couldn’t stand to go out for a long time when I was at the shop. My wife was breastfeeding the baby. She said, “I couldn’t go.” She added, “You should go early -it’s far away. And you mustn’t be late to return home. In this season, it’s scary to walk alone.”
“Yes, I know.” I felt irritated, “I know about it. Why do you stick to this?”
But I didn’t know that such a thing would happen there. I knew I had to attend a party at a respectable person’s home. He is my brother-in-law (husband to my wife’s sister), a government secretary. Yes, there’s a party today for the rice-feeding ceremony of my brother-in-law’s son. I was thinking of what to wear for the party since yesterday.
I have a coat tailored ten years ago. I also have a pair of Daura and Suruwal (traditional Nepali clothes). I am a grocer, far away from the city. Where would I get clothes that are better than them? When would they be ready if I want to get a new set? It’s just a waste of money.
I don’t have any leisure time to do anything other than provide lodging to the porters and guests from far away. When I have to go to the city, I wear the coat I made at my marriage. It has served me well. “Where are you going?” One of the farmers from the village said as I was off to the city on foot.
“I am going to a party in the city at the house of my wife’s sister.”
“Oh,” he uttered and walked ahead of me.
But I said, “Wait for a while. Take a paan or a cigarette.”
Then, he halted, a bit confused. He said that he had gone to the city to sell rice grains, purchased some clothes and that everything had become dearer there.
I was excited to tell him something or the other. Suddenly, I said, “Do you know the husband of my wife’s sister is a secretary in an office?”
He could not understand the depth of the meaning of secretary. I said, “The secretary is just a few posts below the minister. They say the officers of the old days also have to follow him.”
The farmer was shocked. I gazed at me. “If this is……….,” he said and stopped there. He continued, “Fate?”
“Yes,” I said. I thought my purpose was met there.
I am not sure if I wanted to weep or laugh at the moment.
I continued walking. I have a relative who is a respectable person in Nepal. I had gone to see him at the marriage of my wife’s sister. Then, my brother-in-law, husband to my wife’s sister, was imprisoned for his political involvement in the Nepali Congress. When I saw my wife’s sister weeping one day in my house, I scolded him for his unnecessary political activities.
Now, the revolution has occurred -democracy was established in the country. People didn’t have to fear anyone to talk about others. They didn’t have to be alert and check around to express their imagination of progress to others.
I don’t know if I want to weep or laugh when I recall how I scolded my brother-in-law at the time.
I felt as if one of the persons looked at my feet on the way. I was ashamed. I also put on shocks during the day. My shock had slipped down. I had not put on shocks for many days. I am not sure if it would have made any difference had I not worn any on that day.
I went there with my shocks on. I couldn’t understand if the Suruwal had shrined up or the shocks had slipped off -I tidied my Suruwal and shocks at the roadside. The pajamas were dry. I didn’t have another set to wear -I would have worn the same even after knowing it was dry.
I was on my way. A youngster came there in a suit. He looked at me, or he looked at my clothes. It could also be possible that he hadn’t looked at me -he just happened to glance at me and I grew goosebumps in my body. He wore a pair of neat and tidy pants -the pants properly fitted on his body, well-ironed, and looked amazing.
I looked at my own coat. I had not ironed it from the beginning. Because of the dirt, it appeared dim in front of the young man’s coat. There’s no use in envying other’s suits. I am not a young man. I am just a grocer in the village.
The young guys wear good clothes. They will also be like me once they shoulder the family responsibility. Additionally, I am nobody other than Jujuman, the grocer. Even without a coat, I am Jujuman.
Reflecting on it, I suddenly placed my hand on the cheeks. I was shocked. I realized I had forgotten to shave the beard because I was preoccupied with other things. Later, I smiled at myself. I knew I was Jujuman even after shaving the beard. I was equally Jujuman, even without shaving the beard.
I reached the city. Every time I visit, I find it anew. It’s so pleasing there. There are so many immense buildings and people everywhere, people with multiple visages. Oh God! Where did they gather in the city? What were their jobs in the city?
You see a variety of dresses, new models of suits, women’s new fashion that does not need even a thin shawl, saris flowing with the breeze, and Punjabi costumes.
The women also go to study! A jeep sped up—somebody was making an announcement on a mike. People gathered around. I inquired of the people as I couldn’t make sense of it. They said there was a protest the next day against the government’s decision to snatch away people’s rights. “Newspaper for four paisa, four paisa,” a hawker shouts. I don’t understand it; otherwise, I would read it.
There is the first wave of thought, wisdom, and awakening. Whirling and twirling, the wave enters our villages, far away from the city. Then, it prevails everywhere in Nepal. As I was thinking of these things, I reached the house of my sister-in-law. I couldn’t recognize the house where I had come to see them a long time ago.
I inquired with a man there. He showed me the house. I was amazed -I had just walked past the house twice. I saw a few people coming out and going into the house. Still, I tried to locate if that was the house. Yes, this was it. But this house is different from the one in my memory. They had changed the windows, and there were new ones.
I halted at the door for a while and went inside, saying, “This house…” A man came downstairs. He didn’t know me; but he looked familiar and I smiled at him.
He didn’t respond to my smile. He once looked at me and went out. Later, I recalled in a trice, ‘He is the nephew to my brother-in-law. He had offered me a cigarette when I went to see them.’
I went upstairs, growing more hesitant now. In the stair room, I saw a woman rushing downstairs. Four-five other people and I automatically gave her room.
The woman entered a room and went downstairs without looking at anybody. When I saw her face, plaited hair and dress without a shawl, I felt she looked like a madam in the picture.
A person said to the other there, “She is the minister’s daughter!” I was also at the party where the minister’s daughter was present. I was surprised at myself. As I was confused about whether to enter the room, a person said, “Please sit here.”
I looked at everyone there. They looked like servants or attendants of the people at the party. As I was puzzled, my sister-in-law came downstairs. I was surprised to see her. She was also like the madam in the picture.
Earlier, she shed tears as she talked to me. She looked at me, lost for a while. Then, she smiled. I moved a bit back. Actually, I thought she would need space to bow down to greet me. I must have blushed at the moment. But she didn’t bow down to greet me. In a dim voice, she said, “Please go inside the room.”
As I crossed the door, I heard my brother-in-law say, “He is my young sister’s husband.”
I was taken aback. He had used ‘husband to my young sister’ instead of ‘brother-in-law.’ I was doubtful when I entered the living room—could I sit here? The room was well decorated. There were chairs and couches. A madam-like woman was on a couch, and she was freely talking to other men.
There was a Sardar who was familiar to me from the time of the Ranas. I did not know other influential people present there. There were young women in suits. All of them glanced at me once. Then, they were busy with their own talks. They exhaled the smoke of cigarettes in round shapes.
I thought it would be impolite to take a chair, so I sat on the floor near a window. The people looked at me once again as though in surprise. I looked at myself without paying attention to anybody. I thought, “I am Jujuman. Nobody can say I am not Jujuman for the sake of my sister-in-law.”
The people were taking cigarettes from the table in the living room. I also wanted to smoke. But I didn’t know how to go there to take them! I know how to take out the Foolmar cigarette from my pocket. It is easy. Later, I thought, ‘I am Jujuman even after I smoke the Foolmar cigarette. I am still Jujuman even when I don’t smoke the Foolmar cigarette.’
I lit the cigarette and smoked. I heard laughter and people talk. I saw their incomprehensible words float with smoke in the room. Sometimes, the talks filled the room. Then, the talks gradually faded away.
‘The people should form the government.’ ‘No, nobody follows other’s dictation in democratic rule.’ ‘Hahaha.’ ‘Civil servants should not be involved in politics.’ ‘We don’t get to watch good movies these days.’ ‘The cars have become expensive these days.’ ‘Nargish is a better actress than Suraiya.’ ‘The political parties have grown selfish these days.’ ‘Rakshyadal plays football better.’ ‘Raj Kapoor’s movies are good.’ ‘I am a free human being.’ ‘If there’s no patriotic feeling, one should not join such a job.’ ‘Civil servants must not be expelled.’ ‘Hahaha.’ ‘For economic equality…’ ‘The voice of Lata Mangeshkar…’
“Where are you going? What type of discussion is taking place here?’ ‘Oh! I am looking at something up there.’
I gave him a look as soon as I heard the person. I quickly greeted him with “Namaste.” The person also greeted me back. He thought awhile and said, “Have you just arrived?”
He is the husband of my wife’s sister. I felt shy as I thought about it—he is the younger one. Why did I first offer ‘Namaste’ to him? No, he must have greeted me first. However, he is a respectable person. How I was bewildered!
“It’s over. All rise.” Everyone was on their feet. The minister’s daughter also stood up and said, “I will go. My car is ready.”
I was unable to decide if I wanted to rise on my feet. “You follow me,” said one of the persons who had entered just now. I stood up. I followed the crowd. The people entered a room on the upper story. I was behind them by a few steps. In the meantime, a few people came downstairs and took their seats there.
I had to wait there. I saw separate plates filled with food from outside. The food was on glass plates—there was so much food. I saw the bottle of good alcohol.
“Don’t drink much,” I smiled when I recalled these words of my wife. I thought, ‘How would I digest all the foods if I didn’t drink.’
“You come to the other room,” my brother-in-law’s nephew patted on my back.
“Okay,” I turned to him. I felt a different kind of satisfaction. I had grown hesitant to sit and dine with unfamiliar people, so I walked to the room.
“To this room?” I said. “Yes.”
I promptly stood still as I reached the door. I checked if I had some illusion of the eyes. I looked back to see if they had brought me to the wrong room. The nephew said, “Do come in.”Then, the cook came out.
I was puzzled. Already, there were people in the room. There were no plates decorated with food as in the earlier room. I saw a leaf and two Duna (small bowls of leaves) filled with achar and the earthen drinking cup. I stood still at the door. I saw the people eating there were revolving there, and I needed support. I looked around to see if my sister-in-law would come there.
“Please come in. Do come.”
“I will come, ” I said. I stood still.
“Oho! I have to make room here,” one of the persons said from inside.
I said, “I will go downstairs for a while and come back.” I went downstairs. I don’t know how I put on my shoes or said I wanted to go to the toilet when someone asked where I was going. Now, I am amazed at it. I came to my senses as I reached the road: I had come out without eating at the party.
I can’t say with any certainty if I was ashamed of myself, my brother-in-law, my sister-in-law, or my wife. It was already getting dark, and I was on my way home.
I don’t know if I was running away from myself or others. In a solitary place, I felt fatigued. There was a bridge. I leaned on the wall of the bridge and looked at the water that had almost turned black in the setting sun. I said, “I had enough of the party.”
It was pitch dark now. Not even a soul was on the way. I was walking. I was surprised that I needed nobody! I was not afraid. The earlier events flashed before my eyes. The revolution had not yet taken place then. I was walking on the path with a package in my hand. An Army General passed by the same path. Suddenly, a man caught me by the neck and scolded, “Don’t you see the entry of the General?”
I was a child. My father said, “You take care of the shop.” But I stole money and went to play cards. My father dragged me home, pulling my ear. I wept. Then, he came to me and said, “I have done all this for you.”
One of the firewood porters in rags or fruit vendors was in the mood to fight with me and said he had paid me. I said to him, “You are so mean.” But he beat me so harshly. Later, other people thrashed him down. I went to the attic and thought, “I shouldn’t have called him mean.”
I rushed home when there was a protest movement in the city. It was a scary time of revolution. I shut my store and thought, “I wish I could also go fight with the protesters!”
I saw my wife, sister-in-law, her husband, then myself, wife, sister-in-law, her husband, myself, father and mother.
I was shocked. I had reached home now. I went to my bedroom without going to my wife’s room. She came to the room and said, “I was worried why you had not returned so late.”
I was ashamed. I didn’t look at her face and turned in the other direction.
It was deadly silence at midnight. Everyone was asleep. Tired, I tried to sleep. I didn’t have a sleep. Instead, I felt hungry. But I decided not to eat today, so I won’t eat. However, I am not angry with anybody. There’s no anger. I am not angry with myself.
It felt like a dream. But it was no dream at all. I seemed to hear my dead mother’s voice, “Dear Jujuman!”
I opened my eyes and looked around. The room was stuffed with hurts. I spoke faintly, “Mother, I am here.”
I have no malice with anybody. But I never thought that such a thing would happen at all.
***
(Translator Phuyal is a faculty at the Central Department of English, Tribhuvan University.)
