STORYMIRROR

Kulamani Sarangi

Inspirational

4  

Kulamani Sarangi

Inspirational

come back Ramakanta (Short Story )

come back Ramakanta (Short Story )

6 mins
11

Come back Ramakanta
(Short Story )
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Because she used to wear dangling earrings in her ears, Ramakanta, out of affection called her 'Jhumuki'. But her proper name was Uma. How she came to be named Uma was not a complicated story. When she was still in her mother’s womb, her mother had bowed her head before Goddess Parvati and prayed, “O Mother, after offering a hundred thousand mandara flowers at your feet, may my curse of barrenness end. If a daughter is born, I will name her Uma; if a son is born, I will name him Umakanta.”

When Jhumuki grew up and blossomed like a champa flower, Ramakanta became enchanted by the fragrance of her beauty and fell in love with her. Jhumuki kept saying 'No' at first, but she couldn't realise when that 'No' turned 'Yes'.

Both of them were studying in Class Ten at the village school. Both of them failed the examination. What else could it be called but failure? Does an “E” grade count as a 'pass'?

On the day the results were announced, the two sat behind the temple of Goddess Umadei in the evening and wept bitterly. The temple priest scolded them with a few harsh words, but they remained seated there as if they had heard nothing.

Evening turned into late night. It was some lunar date when the sky had no moon; clusters of stars were scattered across the dark sky. Ramakanta said,
“Jhumuki, truly, you failed because of me. Are you angry with me?”
Jhumuki replied,
“Nonsense! I failed because of my own fault. What mistake is there on your part? If I ask you the same question, will you say that you failed because of me? Our studies could go only this far. Is there any educated person in our homes who could sit beside us, teach us lessons, and guide us properly? My father is a goat herder, and your father is a cowherd. That is simply our fate.”

After remaining silent for a while, Ramakanta asked...
“Tell me, how much do you love me?”
Looking up at the sky, Jhumuki said,
“Look at the sky and count how many stars are there.”
Ramakanta said,
“Is that such an easy thing to do? People say Pathani Samanta once counted the stars in the sky. But could he really count them all?”

Jhumuki replied,
“Just as it is impossible to count the stars in the sky, it is impossible to measure my love for you.”
Ramakanta said,
“If you truly love me so much, then let us run away from the village. In Bhubaneswar I will pull a rickshaw and earn money. You can work in the houses of rich people and earn a little. Our family life will go on smoothly.”

Jhumuki said firmly---
“No, I cannot go with you like that. I dont want you to earn livelihood by pulling a rickshaw. First be established with a respectable job. Then you can send a marriage proposal to my parents. With everyone’s blessings at home, I will marry you. If I run away with you, it will hurt my dignity and my family’s honor. For poor people like us, self-respect is our greatest wealth.”

Ramakanta then left the village. Soon after his departure, tragedy struck Jhumuki’s family. While her father was grazing goats on Tuburi Hill, he was struck by lightning and died . It was like a thunderbolt falling upon the happy and lively household of Jhumuki.

After the family’s earning member died, Jhumuki and her mother began searching for ways to survive. There was no option except to sit at their doorstep and sell snacks/cakes such as 'bada', gulgula, and arisa pitha.
Once, a gentleman from the city visited the village and tasted the 'arisa cake' prepared by Jhumuki. He praised it highly and introduced her to a famous 'arisa' trader in Bhubaneswar. Soon the demand for Jhumuki’s handmade arisa began to grow—not only within the state but outside as well. The mother and daughter hardly had any leisure as they struggled to meet the increasing demands . Gradually, the financial condition of their household completely changed.

Even amidst all her busy work, Jhumuki could never forget Ramakanta. Sometimes he would call her on the phone and say,
“Jhumuki, I am running a big business and earning a lot of money. Soon I will come to the village and ask your mother for your hand.”

One day, Ramakanta actually arrived in the village. Five thick gold chains hung around his neck; a gold bracelet glittered on his hand. His polished appearance reflected wealth and grandeur. Riding a Bullet 350 motorcycle worth one and a half lakh when Ramakanta moved around the village, everyone stared in amazement.

Jhumuki’s mother had no objection to giving her daughter’s hand to Ramakanta. Her only concern was how she would manage the flourishing 'arisa business' without Jhumuki.

After wedding Ramakanta Jhumuki felt as if she had captured the full moon from the sky. The gossip that once doing rounds in the village about their relationship turned to admirations after their marriage, like morning fog vanishing in sunlight.
Taking Jhumuki with him, Ramakanta left for Balasore, his place of work. There stood a huge five-storied mansion surrounded by high walls. Ramakanta lived with Jhumuki on the top floor. The ground floor housed the office, and the three floors above it accommodated about fifty employees. More than half of them were men, and the rest were members of the third gender.

Jhumuki soon learned that every morning, regardless of gender, everyone wore sarees, bowed before Goddess Mangala inside the house, ate their meals, and then left for their respective workplaces. In the evening they returned and deposited all their earnings with their manager, Ramakanta. At the end of each month they were paid their salaries, and at the end of the year they received bonuses as well.

Their main work was to beg at bus stands, traffic crossings, and temples, calling out, “Hey Raja, give something! Hey Salman, give something! Hey Shah Rukh, give something!” They also attended weddings and other ceremonies, offering blessings and collecting hefty payments. At night many of them engaged in prostitution. Besides these activities, their illegal businesses included smuggling cattle from Odisha to West Bengal and Bangladesh and trafficking contrabands such as cannabis and opium. The kingpin behind all these shady operations was none other than Ramakanta himself.

Jhumuki thought to herself, “What a ‘business’ indeed!” After learning about her husband’s illegal dealings, Jhumuki did not wish to remain there even for a moment. When Ramakanta left for the office one day, she wrote a letter and placed it on the bed side before leaving forever.In the letter she wrote:
“Ramakanta, do not misunderstand me. I feel suffocated in this palace of falsehood, so I am leaving you forever. I do not want to pollute my soul by living on the dishonest money earned through your dark dealings. By staying with my mother and selling 'arisa pitha', I can earn my living with dignity. In that sort of work there is self-respect and inner satisfaction.

I have no intention of returning to you. But if you wish, you may abandon this black business and come back to me. You can help me in the 'arisa trade'. With that honest livelihood, our family life can truly be happy.”
Speak to your conscience RAMAKANTA and come back.....


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