It was not
that busy but I did not feel like doing anything either. I tried to clear the
files lying on my table but each file seemed too heavy to be dealt with. I
called in the stenographer and after dictating a few lines, I found myself
lacking proper words. I attempted to read a book but it appeared as if the
different words in the book had got jumbled up together and made strange
shapes.
It was not
possible for me to reason out as to why it was happening like that. It does
happen with me once in two months when I find myself blank. It was perhaps a
similar day today.
When the
peon brought a chit from a visitor and placed it on my table, I told him to ask
the visitor to come on the following day. The peon hesitated a little and said,
“Sir, the poor lady is very sad. She has been coming to meet you for the last
three days. Since you were very busy, I have been sending her away. Please,
just listen to her.”
“Who is
she?”
“Sir, she
works in the copying section of the directorate.”
“Okay, send
her in.”
The peon
made for the door and soon a thinly built lady entered. While on the door, she
wished me with folded hands and slowly walked towards my table.
“Sit down.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She took the chair
in front of my table.
I looked at her intently. She was not
that beautiful but could be said to be fairly tolerable. She must have been
around forty, of medium height, a wheatish complexion and with curly black
hair.
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“Sir, I am Gita. I work in the
copying branch of your directorate.”
Putting aside the file which I had
before me, I looked upwards and looked at her, this meant a signal for her to
proceed.
“Sir, I am deeply perturbed. My
husband also works along with me in the copying branch. He has left home and is
living separately for the last four months. I had gone to Delhi to enquire
about my ailing father. In my absence he took away all the household goods,
locked the house and gave the key to the landlord.”
“ I was simply stunned when I came
back. Nobody knew his whereabuts. You can very well imagine, Sir, how I spent
that terrible night. The next morning, when I came to the office, he refused to
recognise me as if we were absolute strangers to each other.”
“When I asked
him as to why he had left home, he said that it was not possible for us
to live together and if I liked I could
divorce him.”
“I asked him as to where I was at
fault. His curt reply was, ask yourself. Saying so, he made for his seat . I
kept on gazing at his face, trying to read it but I could not. After the office
hours, I started following him and with great dificulty, I could persuade him to accompany me to the
coffee house. Even there he repeated the earlier sentence and remained frozen
in silence.”
“Sir I have been trying hard for the
last four months to know his mind, but I failed. What should I do?”
“Have you come to me for this?”
“Sir, you are Commissioner, I have a
request to make……….. On his request, our directorate has transferred him to
Jalandhar. My humble prayer is that his transfer be cancelled.”
“But the directorate must have
transferred him after some consideration.”
“No Sir, the officers of the
directorate only heard his version and must have believed him when he said that
I was a vagabond and also a characterless woman. They arrived at the conclusion
that if we both continue working in the same office, it would have far-reaching
repurcussions in the functioning of the
office. I told them the whole thing in detail, but they would hold me
responsible and have transferred him.”
“But when for the last four months
you have not been even talking to each other, how does it matter for you
whether he lives here or at Jalandhar!”
“It matters a lot, Sir. Out of sight
is out of mind. He will live there, free
from all worries and relax. And I ------ I shall remain here sad, forlorn,
frustrated, ignored, and burning with fire of revenge,”
For a moment , I thought that the
woman was taking too much liberty with me. How could an ordinary functionary of
the office dare waste so much time of the Commissioner?”
She should have come to me through
the proper channel. But on second thoughts, I felt it would be rather inhuman on my part to reprimand the
hapless soul.
I could empathise with her inner
conflict. Somewhere within me, a desire to help her out, brewed within me.
I asked her if she wanted to seek
divorce. She was vehement. “No Sir, not at all. I married him after five years
of courtship. But within three years of our marriage, he has left home for the
third time. On all the previous occasions, after suffering the pangs of
separation, I would bring him round and smoothen out things.”
“But this time my conscience does not
permit me to humour him. I feel even this time, if I try to persuade him, he
will come back to me. But Sir, now I am
totally broken. How long can I tolerate all this? I am simply sick of it. The
woman in me is revolting. It is an insult to my womanhood.”
“Why must I keep on bowing before him
everytime, particularly, when I am not at all at fault? This time Sir, I have
resolved not to persuade him to return.”
I was still not able to fathom why
she wanted the cancellation of his transfer when she had already decided not to
play second fiddle. But she kept on grumbling:
“Sir,
this time, if he wants to come back to me, he must do so on his own. He
must realize his fault. And if he is not
to come back, he must also suffer anguish like me. Just the way I have
been suffering anguish and agony for the last four months.”
“On being away from this atmosphere,
he will be totally free from anguish and I shall suffer all by myself. I beg of you, Sir, to do justice.”
“Are you prepared to reconcile with him?”
“Sir, I have not thought about this.
I only want him to suffer from the fire of
anguish which he has lit himself.”
“Look, if you can once again set up
home with him, I will ask the director to keep his transfer in abeyance. If you
are adamant, then why don’t you let him go?”
“Sir, when there is no water around
even an attempt to quench thirst would become meaningless. The director is
trying to stop even the source of water in the absence of which even the
feeling of being thirsty will be of no consequence.”
“But my point is that when he calls
you a vagabond and characterless, how can you reconcile with him?”
“I told you Sir, I have not yet
thought about the reconciliation. Time will tell as to who is a vagabond and
characterless – he or me.”
“During my courtship with him for
five years, I tried to know him deeply. I knew his character but I thought that
when a wayward ox is tied to a tether, he does not look elsewhere for food and
shelter.
“My calculations, however were proved
wrong. As his girlfriend, perhaps I could tolerate his being free with other
girls. But Sir, as his wife, how could I? I couldn’t simply digest it.
“Probably that is the reason why he
wants to live away from me. I wish I could tell him that a woman can tolerate
everything except the thought that when at night her husband is not with her,
he is sleeping elsewhere in the arms of another woman.”
As she was peeling off her story, I
was trying to understand. Suddenly, I felt that the father within me had come
alive. With affection I said:
“Gita, I have all the sympathies for
you. If you wish, I can call him and set him right.”
“Thank you Sir, I am grateful to you
for all this. But I don’t want any third person between us. When we became
friends, there was no third person between us. When we decided to get married,
it was a joint decision. So, even now, I don’t want the fire of anguish which
is burning us should affect any third person. But why must I burn alone? It
would be utter injustice if he is spared like that. Kindly see to it Sir, that
his transfer is cancelled.”
I had assured her that the transfer
of her husband would be cancelled. I had also agreed with her that he should not
be absolved of the flames of the fire of anguish.
After she had gone, I felt I was
engulfed in the fire, the flames of which she had left behind – in my room.
