Short story
Lathi
By-Jai Prakash Kardam
Sonbati had soiled the bedding. Cleaning it with torn-up rags Ataro had just laid down when Harisingh
moaned as he turned over and caught her attention. She got up from her cot and
came near Harisingh’s and said as she grabbed his
shoulder and shook it lightly, “What happened Sonbati’s
Uncle? Are you sick?”
Most of the people in the neighborhood
were older than Harisingh, and their children called
him Uncle. Hearing this, even Harisingh’s own children had started calling him Uncle. No
village woman ever uttered her husband’s name. Generally she would call him
“brother” of her sister-in-law or brother-in-law, or taking the name of a child
address him as their uncle, grandfather, father, and so on. Saying the name of one’s husband was against
custom and tradition and women who did so were considered shameless. For this
reason Ataro was given to addressing him as “Sonbati’s Uncle.”
Like he was just waking up Harisingh said, “It’s nothing, I’m fine. Go to sleep.” But
his voice was so steeped in pain that it was clear that reality was something
else.
“Is your waist hurting?” Ataro asked and started to rub Harisingh’s
waist with her hand.
“ Yes Ataro, my waist really hurts.Badni
has hit the lathi today”.
Harisingh only had to say this much for a loud wail to escape Ataro’s lips followed by a volley of abuses, “Badni, you should die! May nobody be left in your family to light your funeral pyre! You will be punished for all the wickedness you do in the world.”
She kept shouting abuses at Badni while she soothed Harisingh’s
waist with her hands. Only after shouting many abuses did she calm down
slightly. After quite a while her hand finally got tired from massaging.
She
cursed Badni one last time and went and lay down on
her own cot.
Badni was a jat from a nearby village named Madhaiya. There was a village named Harsaon
a little more than a kilometer along the road, which goes from Misalgadhi to Gaziabad. There
were a few jat houses along
the bank of the spring near Harsaon in the direction
of Sadarpur. In comparison of the population of the
nearby villages this was a small community of families and for this reason the
village was called Madhaiya (small village). Some
people called it Harsaon’s Madhaiya
because it was situated so closed to Harsaon.
Harsaon was
a
In addition to Sadarpur,
there were villages of Jats in Raispur,
Kajipura, Mehrauli, and Rajapur, which were not too far. Therefore, even though the
jats of Madhaiya were few
in numbers, they lived fearlessly and grandly.
The
people of Madhaiya’s fields bordered the fields of Harsaon, Sadarpur, Raispur, Kajipura and Misalgadhi. The only means of irrigation was a rivulet,
which drew from the upper
Harisingh’s field
near the small bridge over the drain bordered Badni’s
fields. For that field his turn came twice a week, once at night and once
during the day. It was December. Harisingh’s turn was
at
At
“Arre,
don’t cut it now!” Badni shouted from his field. “ Why don’t ya just gite on home and go to
sleep, I am n’t finished.”
“ My field is
dry too, chaudhary, otherwise I wouldn’t take the
water.” Harisingh said respectfully.
“Arre, what
is putting water in your field more important than mine or something? Huh!” he
said to Harisingh rudely.
Harisingh
responded politely, “Chaudhuri, everybody needs water in their
fields.”
“ But I’II
fill up my field first. Now you just go on along back. You just deal with your
field later,” Badni said even more sternly than
before.
“ But, Chaudhary,
if I don’t water my field my whole crop will be ruined. Whatever you have left
you can finish next time.” As he said this Harisingh
took his spade and got down in the irrigation ditch to block the flow. As soon
as he bent down to cut a piece of clay with his spade to make a stopper and
redirect the flow of water, Badni screamed from his
field, “ Arre, didn’t ya
hear what I say?”
“But Chaudhuri,
your time has already gone a half hour over.”
Harisingh put the piece of clay in the ditch.
“Arre I’m gonna say this again you better be careful. Don’t say
nothing about the time and get away from here safe, otherwise…” this time Badni’s tone was threatening.
“But if I don’t water my field the crop
will dry up. I’II have nothing,” Harisingh
shot back.
Badni responded carelessly, “ Arre, is your field my
responsibility now?”
“But Chaudhuri,
I’m not stealing your turn. I’m just taking my own.” Harisingh
laid another piece of clay.
Before he could stand back up again
from bending down to lay the piece of clay, Badni
shouted,” So you’ll not listen, wait!” and with his full strength struck Harisingh’s waist with his lathi.
Harisingh’s body was weak,
he fell into the ditch from the force of Badni’s lathi attack. Even though Badni
was much stronger than him, Harisingh got up and
tried to hit him back, but Badni hit him again across
his belly with the lathi. Harisingh
couldn’t bear this second blow and fell down on the ground. His own lathi flew from his hands and landed far off.
“Get outta
here, if you care about your life…. else I’II dig your grave right here,
you bastard.” He hit Harisingh
one more time across the middle with the edge of his lathi
and went back into his own field to restart the water.
Harisingh went back to his house quietly and lay
down on his bed. Ataro was surprised to see him back
so early. Showing her curiosity she asked, “Why are you back so early? Was the
water not working?”
“The water was coming, but ….” As he spoke the pain in his waist grew
and a moan escaped his lips.
Until now Ataro
had been half-awake, but hearing Harisingh groan,
sleep abondoned her. She got up immediately from her
bed and came to Harisingh and asked anxiously, “ What happened Sonbati’s Uncle?
Why are you moaning?”
“I
had a fight with Badni. He tried not to let me take
the water. When I started to take it then he attacked me with the lathi.”
Harisingh tied to turn over on his cot. His
waist throbbed with pain and he moaned again.
Hearing the word lathi, Ataro’s heart lept into her throat. She immediately lit the lantern and told Harisingh, “Show me your waist, I want to see how badly
you’ve been hurt.” Lifting up his shirt she saw the mark of the lathi clearly on his skin. The place where
the lathi had struck had begun to swell. The
moment Ataro touched it Harisingh
screamed, “Aaaiieee …..”
Ataro screamed even louder than Harisingh, “L’II destroy you Badni! … and let there be no one to mourn you !”
Hearing Ataro’s
voice screaming and shouting abuses, Samman woke from
sleep. Agitated, he got up and asked, “Arre, Ataro what happened?”
Ataro did not answer. She only kept cursing Badni. It did not take Samman
long to figure out that there had certainly been a fight with Badni. He went immediately to Harisingh’s
cot and asked, “Harisingh, Arre,
what happened my son, are you OK?” His voice was full
of concern.
“Badni went
off his lathi today,” Harisingh told him moaning in
pain. “ Did he
hit you really hard … or on any delicate place … eh?” He asked this question
even though he knew inside that indeed the lathi had
struck him very hard. Harisingh had no chance against
Badni, this he knew well. A father’s heart is thrown into
turmoil over a son’s moans.
At this point Phaggan
and his wife Bhagvandeyi were also awake. They also
came to stand at Harisingh’s bedside.
As soon as he saw the lathi mark on Harisingh’s waist Phaggan started
squirming in anger. His veins swelled and blood rushed to his eyes.
“Is Badni still in
his field now?” He looked toward Samman with a
questioning look.
“Yeah, he should still be there. The
turn is till the morning.” As Samman answered him, he
became uneasy seeing the Phaggan’s furious condition.
Phaggan was somewhere around 50 years old. He was of
short stature, but his body was strong. He could hit even the most robust young
man on the waist with a lathi with his full strength
and reduce him to a heap, so much was the power in his
body. And he was as quick-tempered as he was strong. He could not tolerate
either coercion or insult. Against this he would not hesitate to clash with
anyone, anywhere. No matter how rich the man was, or how “holy,” or how strong,
Phaggan did not welcome bowing or bending in front of
anyone. He was a man who lived with self-respect. This was the reason why
unlike many other Chamars he would immediately
address a Jat or some other high caste with “Ram Ram,”
or “Jai Ramji.”
Indeed, once a Jat had called him “Chamatta” over something or other. He picked the Jat up and threw him back down on the ground so hard that
he could not get up. He even broke a bone. But because of the shame of having
to say, “A Chamar beat me up,” he did not tell anyone
how he broke his bone. He just said that he fell out of a tree. But a woman
cutting grass in the jungle saw the whole thing and told all the people in the
village what really happened. Therefore the rest of the Jats
wanted to crack Phaggan’s ribs, but it never
happened. Samman diffused the situation with flattery
and obsequiousness.
“Don’t do anything stupid out of anger
my brother, we’II do something, but we have to give in a little too.”
Something suddenly struck Samman’s mind. He asked Phaggan, “But why are you asking, what are you going to do
to him now?”
“What am I gonna
do? … I’m gonna go and scatter the bastard’s corpse
all over the ground or my name ain’t Phaggan.” He
flared up in anger and looked at Samman as he said to
Bhagvandevi, “Go, bring my lathi.”
And then he angrily muttered to himself, “He hit the boy with lathi … I will kill him bastard …” his nostrils were fluttering
angrily. Before Bhagvandeyi had a chance to react, Samman said, “Don’t be so hot-headed, act only with a cool
mind, Phaggan! Now you’II go thinking only
about Badni, but you have think ahead too. Every
night we have to water our field, we have to pass by his.”
“So, we’II just keep our tails tucked in our asses? Today we’re beaten
with lathis and tomorrow what else… we’II see
what they’II do.” And with this he told Bhagvandei firmly again, “ Didn’t
you hear me?… go, get my lathi …” Samman
tried to explain to him, “Brother, there’s village after village of them. With
one call they’II get a hundred lathis
together. How can we beat them? They’II beat our
heads in.”
“That’s their village, not ours. If
they have a hundred lathis then we have five
hundred,” He told Samman.
“Sure, there are five hundred lathis, but you’II never get them to come out together against someone from
the outside. These lathis are only for splitting one
another’s heads open amongst our-selves. You’II only get four lathis together to go
against someone else.” He rested his
eyes for a moment on Phaggan’s face. Phaggan’s nostrils were still flaring in anger. He was
looking sometimes at Samman and sometimes at Harisingh. His agitated state demonstrated that Badni’s lathis had wounded his
heart even more seriously than Harisingh’s waist. Samman guessed at his state of mind and finished what he
was saying,
“ You didn’t
see what happened a few months ago when the Kajipura Jats quarreled wth the Dhikauliyas. All the Jats from
the nearby villages got together and forcing their way into their houses tore
everyone limb from limb. They have such a big group and they are so powerful,
if they get in a state like that then what is our standing? Now you just think,
brother, if you go today in anger and break Badni’s
bones or smash his head, then what will happen tomorrow, the day will dawn, but
our corpses will already be spread about.”
“So we should just wear bangles and
sit at home and just keep getting beated up? Today they stole our turn and tomorrow they’II take
our fields. They’II become like lions doing whatever
they want and we’II be like
foxes hiding in our holes. What a good idea. They’II
just rip the
grass from our fields. I don’t understand
what you’re saying brother. If we don’t answer this lathi
today, then there will be even more lions.” Absorbed in anger, Phaggan would not be put down. He stamped his feet on the
ground several times in fury.
“ I know that Harisingh is even more than a son to you, and his wound is causing you so much pain. But there is never a good result from a foot raised in anger or haste. Control your anger and act with a cool head. We’II have to think of some other plan.” Samman tried to calm him down.
This time Phaggan
made no reply. He didn’t even ask what kind of other plan they might make. He
looked at Harisingh once more and then addressed Ataro, “Arre Ataro,
give him a piece of turmeric and jaggery, and he
needs some hot milk. Take some milk from the pot on the hearth. And heat up the skillet
and make a hot pack with some cotton for his waist.”
Ataro got up immediately and cut a knot of turmeric on the
grinding stone, and getting a big glass of milk from the pot she first gave the
turmeric to Harisingh and then the milk with some jaggery. After staying there a little longer, Phaggan and Bhagvandeyi went back
to their own house and Samman lay back on his coat. Ataro lit the fire in the hearth to heat the skillet and
pulling a little cotton from a quilt she heated it on the skillet and then
pressed it to Harisingh’s waist.
The anger and heated exchange
from a little while earlier was over now. Once again there was pin-drop silence
in all directions. But nobody could sleep. Everyone tossed and turned on their
cots. They could all feel the pain of lathi in Harisingh’s waist inside themselves. Phaggan
was the most agitated. He could not even lie down, let alone sleep. He just sat
like a statue but inside he was still shaking with anger.
Badni, I’II see you.” He muttered. His face was pulled taut in anger. He
was making fists and his gaze hung on the lathi
opposite him, which stood against the wall.
Translated from Hindi by- Laura Brueck
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*A number of award-winning Dalit writer of
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