And It Rained

Patnayak Koeri lived in a humble shack in Sitapura village located about 120 kilometers away from Lucknow. Four generations of his family had perished toiling in their five-acre field before its possession passed on to him. Surprisingly, he wasn’t a miserable specimen in the name of a farmer. He was a brawny man with a pair of curious ochre eyes. A slick black mustache always adorned his coarse oval face. He was well known in the adjacent villages of Bilasgarh and Jaganvada for he could not just read but write too. Envious glances were cast upon him when he used to sign official documents while others put a thumb impression in any and every column pointed to them. He was in his mid-thirties and happily married to the curly-haired beauty, Gauri. Patnayak and Gauri were parents to three moderately-behaved children. They were not prosperous but the yield from the farm usually sufficed to not let the family go empty-stomach. Last year’s drought had marred the total produce of the village but the farmers were hopeful to have better rain this time, at least that’s what a gruff voice on the transistor radio had claimed.

It was an ordinary summer morning and Patnayak had already yoked both his oxen. Ram and Bahadur as he endearingly called the two cattle were wearily lugging the plow under the scorching sun. He had just bent down to uproot a mound of weed in the track when he saw Gauri hastily making her way towards the field. Patnayak immediately stood up. Her face had turned crimson. Was it the walk or the heat, one could not tell.

“What’s the matter?” he inquired.

“Jagdev babu has arrived with a squad of goons” her voice quivered “they are battering Hariya over some debt. You go there. I will look after the field till you return.”

Jagdev babu was the gram pradhan. His affluence and political linkages had made him the most influential person in the village. He was feared by one and all in Sitapura. Hariya had borrowed from him four thousand rupees for irrigation in the previous season but no amount of watering could quench the thirst of his parched land. His field had performed the poorest, just five kilograms of wheat in all. He had failed to pay back the debt on time and Jagdev babu had come to confiscate his land. As Patnayak reached the chowk, he saw a huge assemblage of villagers. They let out mutters of disapproval but none had the audacity to openly condemn Jagdev babu. Patnayak jostled to make room for himself. The sight of Hariya’s puny body writhing in a pool of blood was petrifying.

Jagdev Babu unfurled a piece of paper and said, “He had promised to return my money by March. Which month is it?”

“June” the daunted crowd bellowed in unison.  

“So as per this agreement, I am legally entitled to take away his land but he resists. What option am I left with other than setting the swine straight?”

Patnayak looked closely at the paper in his hand, a sorry thumb impression gazed back at him from the bottom right corner.                                                         

                                                                       

Harrowing visuals from the day plagued his mind, Patnayak could not sleep that night. He hated himself for being unable to help his childhood friend in the hour of need. He saw Gauri was awake too.

“A man was punched and kicked in broad daylight, his land was taken away and we just stared helplessly. Are we even humans, anymore?”

“Raghuram kaka has assured Hariya that he will talk to Jagdev babu tomorrow, don’t worry.” Gauri consoled her restive husband.

Patnayak gasped for breath, “You think he would listen? Can’t you see what a swindler he is!”

Gauri was about to say something when the youngest one began to wail. After hours of soothing, the baby went back to sleep in her mother’s arms. The gleaming sun soon dwindled the twinkle of the stars. The fateful morning had arrived.

Raghuram kaka, Hariya and the villagers who had gathered in his support sluggishly waited in the quadrangle of Jagdev babu’s stately mansion. The sight of a swanky SUV gliding through the main door created ripples of commotion. Lines of disgust emerged on Jagdev babu’s face as he saw a mess of people inside his house. 

“Who let them in?” he shrieked at the top of his lungs.

Raghuram kaka leaped to his feet, “Jagdev babu, we have come here with a plea.”

“If it is about this man’s land, I am in no mood to entertain you.” Jagdev babu directed his finger towards Hariya.

“Sahib, he is a wretched farmer. Just imagine, where would he go without his land? How will he feed his family? We implore you to give back his field. He will return his debt after the harvest.”

Jagdev babu’s countenance was inscrutable. He thought for a while and said, “I will give his field back but on one condition.” Pin-drop silence pervaded the atmosphere.

“Instead of four thousand rupees, he will have to pay back twenty thousand. I shall take away his field and house both if he doesn’t succeed the second time. Deal?” Nobody dared to stir.

“Okay let me make it simpler” he continued with an unmistakable smirk, “Anyone of you may volunteer to split Hariya’s debt. In that way, the two of you will have to pay ten thousand each but if I don’t get my money on time both would lose ownership over their land and house. So who wants to help?”

The villagers sighed as Hariya had finally lost his most valuable asset to Jagdev babu. Raghuram kaka patted his shoulder to console him. The villagers turned around to tread back to their respective hovels when a resonant “I do” pierced the stillness.

Everybody including Jagdev babu was taken aback to see Patnayak standing with his right hand held up.

“Have you lost your mind, Patnayak?” Raghuram kaka mumbled in surprise. Patnaik's decision was met with aversion but he betrayed no sign of apprehension. He could not bring himself to desert his friend when there was a vague chance of rescue. His decision was final.

 Back home, he had expected Gauri to react in the same way as she was at this time.

“How could you do this to us? Everything is finished. We are doomed.” she uttered in delirium. 

“Have faith Gauri. Our site is set to receive enough rain this time. It’s all over the newspaper and radio. I too might need Hariya’s help someday.”

“Damn that cursed fellow. Our land is at stake because of him.”

The farmers sowed the seeds and waited for the rain. There was no rain in the first week of August but the second week saw a big bunch of pitch-black clouds gathering over Sitapura. The villagers danced with joy. Deafening thunderclaps soon gave way to torrential rain. Patnayak and Gauri were relieved to see a heavy downpour. The rain was an assurance of a generous yield, after all. It rained for two days then three and four. Continuous raining had now begun to induce panic among the farmers. A week-long rainfall brought the villagers’ worst nightmares to life. There was a trail of destruction in every corner. Much to everyone’s dismay, standing crops were leveled to the ground. Flattened wheat, mustard, pea, and gram lay inertly waiting for fungi to feed on. Others had just lost their crops but there were two in Sitapura who had lost it all.

Patnayak had set out early that day. Dusk was creeping in but he hadn’t returned. So had her eldest son, Ramesh who had long back taken the oxen to the pond for water. She was lightening the tiny kerosene lamp when Ramesh barged in.       

“Ma, Ram and Bahadhur refuse to return.”

“What do you mean?”

“They are standing under the Banyan tree near the pond.”

“Why?”

“Come, look for yourself.” He was still panting.                 

Gauri rushed to the pond and saw both the animals loyally licking the cold feet of their master who wasn’t fondly calling their names anymore.                                                    

                                                                      

Somewhere in a metropolitan city, a budding poet sank in an upholstered sofa. The aroma of freshly brewed cappuccino from the kitchen tickled his nostrils. He gazed at the rain from his balcony. What an enthralling sight! If he had not forgotten his girlfriend’s birthday yesterday, they would have been enjoying the rain together. He took out his writing pad and began to scribble something in a round cursive font.

The leaden sky grumbles

Clouds sway like cotton balls

Droplets of water descend in the lap of earth

The synchronous orchestration of rain and wind

Is a melody to my ears

My soul routes again

To your languorous glances

Let us discover new meanings of love

Till the clatter stops

Shalini loved poetry. These lines would definitely budge her, he thought. Rain is such an amazing thing, his lips curved into a smile.