Endless Quest

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Friday, 03 February 2012

Author / Source : Translated by Hiron Choudhury

(Continued from previous issue)

Rumi wanted to discuss the topic a little further, but seeing Wahid in a sea of thoughts he said hesitantly, “Are you feeling bad?”
“No, no, of course not. I was just listening to you.” Rumi once more became excited to share his stories. He started again, where he went last year on picnic in the Hazra district, how many times they went, what they did there; everything. He suddenly noticed that Nargis had left his side long time ago. And Wahid was looking up in the sky and smoking, creating a dense cloud of smoke around him. His only listener was his pet dog.
Rumi felt a bit embarrassed, “You are not listening.”
“Of course I am. Now tell me something about your mommy.”
Rumi was over zealous to start about his mother. “My mummy, Sweet mummy! She not only my mum, she is my friend, philosopher, and my guide. Can you imagine? One woman with so many qualities.”
Rumi looked at him with this bright twinkle of the youthful understanding of life in his eyes. Wahid had a lighted cigarette in his right hand, so with his left hand he patted Rumi on the shoulder and said, “She is really wonderful!”
“But one thing makes me furious; do you know, Colonel Beg thinks she is a doll?”
Wahid sat up, “Who is Colonel Beg?” he asked with alarmed tone.
“He is dad’s bosom friend. When dad was around mum used to like him too, but now…”
“Go on.”
“Now she doesn’t like him at all. Oh, don’t you tell mum about what I said. Uncle and Aunt Beg are sitting in the next room.”
There were noises of light chitchat of several voices coming from the living room for a while now.  Some people came up the garden path a while ago when Rumi and he were talking. He thought they were people from her circle.
Wahid his growing annoyed again. Looking at the boy sitting next to him, annoyance inside him grew a bit more. Boys of this age seem to have a problem. Whenever they become close to an adult, they consider him equal and doesn’t seem to let go. Wahid said to him, “How about this Master Rumi?”
“What?”
“How long are you staying here?”
“Well tomorrow is Monday, so I would be leaving first thing in the morning.”
“Then why don’t you go and visit your friends?”
“Well I don’t have many of them. And besides when I come home I rather like spending time with mummy.”
No way out; Wahid had to get up. He walked around the garden for a while. At night he met Nargis in the dining table. Seeing her rather stone face, he thought of making a joke, but then controlled himself in front of Rumi. But his thoughts rallied on in the vacant mind and heart. ‘Is Nargis thinking him to be an enemy here? Is this the reason she forgot to show common courtesy although it was she who invited him here? Or did he do something wrong?’
‘But what did he do? He mocked a very sentimental part of her life. But whatever was said, there was no pretension there. Was this the only reason of her behavior?’
“Uh! Why are you getting up? Sit down… finish your dinner.” Nargis said in a disapproving tone. Wahid answered, “I am not hungry.”
“No! You are hungry. And you have to eat your dinner.”
Nargis also took her hands off her plate. Wahid had to sit down again. He was ashamed to have behaved like this in front of Rumi. Rumi’s head on his hand, he was looking both at them with surprise.  Late at night when he was lying on the drawing room bed, he just couldn’t sleep. From the bedroom the bits and pieces of the laughter and the gossip of the mother and son was crawling occasionally in the drawing room as well as the beautiful fragrances of the flowers in the garden. But nothing could sooth the discomfort that was plaguing him from within. Nargis appeared to him like a conspirator.

(To be continued)
Translated by Hiron Choudhury