ONE STEP UP
Tangirala Meera Subrahmanyam
(Translated by Malathi
Nidadavolu)
Beads of sweat were slithering down her
forehead. Penchalamma's hands were not free to wipe them. The red kumkuma
dot on her forehead, the size of a rupee coin, got mixed with the sweat and
splashed all over her face. Her blouse was wet and stuck to her body. She wound
a piece of red cloth on her head as a protection either from the scorching sun
or the dust.
Penchalamma was sweeping the street thoroughly
with a small broom in one hand and a tin sheet in the other. The road-roller[1], parked on the
left side of the street was making noisy. Seenayya was melting tar, throwing in
coal and splinters to keep the flames ablaze.
Pentamma was on the side of the road. She was
crushing the stones from the pile next to her. An improvised cradle, a piece of
cloth, hanging from a branch about four yards away from her. Penchalamma's baby
was in the cradle. Pentamma looked at the cradle and called out for
Penchalamma, "Look, the boy's wiggling. Go, feed him. I'll tell explain if
case the supervisor shows up."
Penchalamma put the broom and the tin sheet on
the ground, took the baby into her arms, and sat down in the shade. She pulled
out the little cloth bag which was tucked in her saree-folds at the waist, took
a couple of wilted pan leaves, a sliver of tobacco leaf, and dark betal nut
piece and popped them inside her mouth.
Just in that moment, a scooter whizzed by
making loud noise. Despite its honking, the workers on the roadside did not
budge, not even one inch, with a "don't give a damn" look, like the students
when the lecturer walked into his class. The man on the scooter grit his teeth,
called them "dirty rogues", slowed down, and walked the scooter
through the crowd. And then he kicked the pedal to speed up.
Penchalamma feeding the baby and Pentamma
crushing the stones went on staring at the couple on the scooter without bating
an eyelid; they were mesmerized by the sight, forgot even to breathe. The man
on the scooter looked like a hero in the movies. He wore a large belt and sun
glasses. The woman on the backseat was looking modern in her nilex saree. Her hair
was not braided but loosely rolled and tied, and she wore a plastic dot on her
forehead. The woman threw a recentful look at them, as if saying, "How
dare you sit in the middle of the street and get in our way?", and then
she turned away.
Penchalamma's eyes were glued to the sight, she
did not even notice that the boy in her arms was waddling his arms and legs.
After the scooter had disappeared round the corner, she turned to Pentamma.
Pentamma said crabbily, "We crush the rocks and lay the road and they get
to havin' a ball."
"Well, that's the way it is, that's our
lot. They're the blessed ones," said Penchalamma. She laid the child in
the cradle and picked up the broom again. She pictured in her mind the charming
view of she going around on a scooter with her husband and sighed.
The scooter started out at first like a race horse
and then turned out to be mulish. It's owner removed his sunglasses, handed
them to his wife, and began checking the engine.
The wife was getting smoldered in her nilex
saree. She kept wiping her face with her handkerchief. In the process, her make
up was wiped out and the face was looking greasy. Tired of carrying the
two-year-old baby in her arms, she put her down and began fixing her hair. Next
minute, the child started screaming. The mother remembered that the child had
no shoes, and quickly picked up the child again.
In all, everything--the heat from the sun, the problems
with the scooter, and the fact that the baby had no shoes--summed up and made her
furious. And she redirected it toward her husband. She said, "Get rid of that
stupid scooter, that'll end our miseries. Here we're checking meena meshaalu[2]
to buy shoes for the child, and yet decided to go on a picnic. Isn't that foolish?"
The pleasure the husband had been enjoying up
until now evaporated in a second. Downcast, he started kicking the starter over
and again in the hope of reviving it.
Just in that moment, a gorgeous car slid by softly
as though it was airborne. For a split second, a beautiful face flashed through
the car's window like a lightning. The young woman standing by the roadside in
blistering sun, with the child in her arms, twitched pitiably. The lingering
lavendar aroma left behind after the car had passed for well over ten minutes,
the scooter that would not start, and the husband who was dripping with
sweat--they all bothered her even more. "What a dreary life. Two of us
tear our guts [at the school] from dawn to dusk, and still our income is like a
sheep's tail, barely covers our daily necessities, leaving nothing for any
other pleasure in life. Can't even remember for how long I've been dreaming of
buying a georgette saree just like the one the woman in the car was wearing.
Our children don't even have a couple of decent clothes, how can I expect to
have good clothes and expensive desires for myself?" she said to herself
desperately. She remembered the children she left with her neighbor and
wondered if they were giving her hard time. Lately she and her husband did not
even go to the movies, because of the costs--the rickshaw and the tickets. This
trip to a nearby village, Maipadu, was pretty much like once in a lifetime
chance. What fun one could have on a scooter like this in this heat? One should
go by car, like the other couple who had passed by earlier, that's what I'd
call fun. I think this is the way it's going to be for us ... She drew a long deep
breath.
The car stopped in front of the traveler's
bungalow. The couple got out of the car, helped the two children to get out,
and went into the bungalow, carrying the basket, bedding etc. .
The two children were chattering jubilantly and
peaking from one end of the verandah to catch a glimpse of the sea. Their
mother on the other hand was tired. She sat down, and was pondering, "Is
it enough if one has wealth? No, I woudl call it life only when all the others pay
us their respects. Nowadays only the man in power receives such respect. I still
remember the day we celebrated our baby's birthday? The district collector's
wife came. One peon opened the door for her, and another walked behind her
carrying the gift. Between the two, she walked like a royalty, while all the
others around bowed to her in veneration. That's what I'd call being fortunate."
Poor husband. He was lost in his own thoughts.
"I could do gold business and earn a stash. But how can how can I get the 'power'
she's hankering for?"
The sun was blazing as always. The day laborers
continued to crush rocks on the roadside. They would skip a day's meal, and
barter that money for their colorful dream--losing themselves in the fantastic life
of the hero and the heroine on the screen, live their dreams in their
imagination, and recoup their strength for the hard labor on the next day.
The waves in the sea are attempting to force
themselves further and further on to the shore. People riding scooters, cars and
flying planes are trying harder and harder to move up to the next step.
-0-
(The Telugu original, aasala metlu, was
published in Vanitha monthly, dt.