Tantalus

By Tapan Kumar Dutta

The book describes the psychological journey of Tantalus from reality to dreams and vice versa. He feels an outsider even when he is with his friends and family. He craves for Aqua, in whom he finds his Muse, but he is painfully rejected by her. Though he never had any feeling for Moon, finally he understands that only she could be the source of his inspiration in his life; thus his search for Muse completes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Feb 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482845587

Tapan Kumar Dutta

Tapan Kumar Dutta, a student of English literature from the University of Burdwan, came to Kirnahar, West Bengal, from Sainthia, West Bengal, at the age of five with his family. After the completion of his school education, he took private tutorial as part-time job to continue his college and university degrees. His first book, Paradise Lost, a drama, was published in 2009 by Books Way, Kolkata. In the same year, he joined as an assistant teacher in Halisahar High School (HS), North 24 Parganas, West Bengal, and he is still working there. Now he lives at Kalyani, West Bengal.

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Copyright © 2015 by Tapan Kumar Dutta.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4828-4559-4

                eBook           978-1-4828-4558-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

To my father

Chapter One

I t is the season of winter; January is a cold, hesitating, deciduous and hibernal month at Kirnahar. Water snakes through the canals hesitatingly passing by the stones that stand amid its way. As if an old, wrinkled and frail man is staggering with a stick in his hand, wishing to walk fast, but cannot, or a violinist getting sodden with the melody of the violin walks meditating. Air blows on the trees and decayed leaves fall freely from the trees. Dry leaves as fall on the dry land make the surrounding melodious as if Thalia is ringing her tambourine. The youthful, proud, full-grown and happy-with-corns paddy fields have gilt themselves with liquid gold. They almost bend down to rest in the lap of earth. Dew standing on the tip of grasses and leaves pearls when the rays from the sky begin to kiss them. Reaped paddy fields refuge harvest mice that in daylight dare not come out of their holes. Apollo is proud, happy and praised. Water nymph cuts a poor figure before Apollo as all tries to escape cold, freezing and pricking water sources. Barefooted farmers have come out for reaping ginger and the scythes in their hands do not run fast not for affection, but because it was too cold outside.

Tantalus was late from bed so, he could not attend the coaching centre that day. He was a short, potbellied boy of fifteen with tiny eyes, fat legs, and froglike fat cheeks. As the weather was dry and cold, his cheeks wore small gray and black spots like poppy seeds. His disobedient hair often got disheveled so he had to comb his hair eight or nine times a day whenever he had to go outside. It was a daily irritation to him that he could never comb his hair to his choice. Though fifteen, he still wore half pant that attracted mocks from his friends. He was shy and subconscious. New fashion or style attracted him much, but he hesitated to welcome them worrying what other people would think of, and that they might make fun of him.

Therefore, Tantalus decided to go out for a walk though it was late morning. He wore his usual dress for outing- a half pant, a red shirt, bought and gifted to him by his grandmother, the color of which was much sticky and dirty because of its much contact with his oil-dirt neck. One of the five, buttons of the shirt was partly broken. The heels of the plastic slippers that were thinner and worn out did not fit for their work except the formality. Sinking his hand into water, he ran his wet fingers up through his hair to make it malleable and then he combed his hair before a small mirror hanging on the wall.

He was walking through an avenue; the top of the trees on the two sides from far seemed to have mingled, but as he continued, the gaps were getting obvious. The sun had to steal into through the leaves, as the dense leaves of the trees did not allow the sun to enter with honour. Tantalus felt the pebbles prick under his feet while he was walking. He sat on a culvert that lay there by the road between two rows of trees. Through it, a mysterious stream reeved and emerged into a mango grove. Finding suddenly that the chain of his pant had not been made up, he drew it up at once and ran a sharp look around fearing if anyone had been there or noticed it. However, he found none so he felt at home. Suddenly, a cuckoo cooed sharply that startled him at once. Studying it again, he smiled a foolish smile. Whenever he smiled, his spade like partly broken tooth of the upper gum made it, to some extent, uglier. He listened to the song with rapt attention and the colour of his face was changing every moment as he listened to the song. He tried to find out the cuckoo, but in vain.

Is it Siren or Phoenix or Eratio or a bird of Erebus or Mab? Is it a bird at all? he muttered with a smile.

He was at a loss to study the ever-mysterious hymnal or amorous song.

Perhaps, heavenly fingers are playing any terrestrial violin or it might be Castaly, he said by himself with a doubt.

Whatever it might be, he felt lulled, but his insight flew over the Eden, the Nile, the Helicon and in the deepest and the darkest bottom of the sea. The invisible bird was still cooing as though it had left no work behind it. The leaves were swirling their heads with frenzied joy perhaps, because they were drunk. With ceases, some leaves shed themselves voluntarily from the trees.

Suddenly, he became puzzled and could not believe his own eyes. He doubted if he was dreaming. He rubbed his eyes to make sure, but he was not wrong. He jumped down, put his slippers on and looked at the girl as a falcon looks at its prey. The girl too was looking at him. He was brooding whether he would act like Jacob- help her by uncovering the mouth of the well, kiss her and then flow amorous weep. However, there was neither the cover nor the well nor the sheep nor was she Rahel at all with the flock. She came to fetch water with a pail and three babies, as innocent and naked as sheep, followed her. He wished to help her anyhow to get her favour, but that was only possible if he could have got the chance. It is the master key to all happiness and success.

I must introduce myself to her, he murmured.

He started walking stealthily towards the girl as a cat airs behind a rat.

Suddenly the girl burst into laughter that perplexed and embarrassed Tantalus. Therefore, he stopped his progress.

He felt he was sweating. The forehead, the surface of the nose and the part between the nose and the upper lip were wet. He stared at them with embarrassment, but it was not for him the girl burst out; one of the children was dancing in joy that made her do so. With his jumping, laughing, shouting, dancing and stoning at the birds on the trees the child tore the silence that had been reigning there. One of the other two children was weeping constantly- tears rolled down his eyes. His nose was wet, but the girl did not pay any heed to that poor boy. Perhaps, she had allowed him to weep as much as he could; perchance, it was his freedom.

The third remained silent since Tantalus had seen him and what caught his attention was the boy was indifferent to whatever was going on there. Neither laughter, nor tears, nor any merriment could draw his attention. He looked neither glad, nor morose nor did he exhibit any feeling of excitement.

"Why is this child silent and unstirred? Is he in deep thought? Is he sleeping like a horse?

Perhaps, the girl had dragged him here from his bed, but his eyes are not closed. He is in rapt attention like a hen, when it hatches," he was brooding.

The child was weeping as though he would never stop his tears. The restless child had coated his face with yielding clay. The girl indulged in whatever the boy was doing, but now she rushed towards him in a fury; rebuked him, washed his face with her hands and hugged him and said to him angrily, Naughty boy, stand here quietly; otherwise I shall beat you.

Tantalus looked at her and the babies inquisitively.

Few minutes had passed. Leaving the boys on the bank, as the girl was trying to get down the pond, she slipped on the wet mud near water and those three babies reacted accordingly- one laughed, one cried for his sister, and the other remained indifferent. Tantalus watched all this, keeping himself out of their sight, from behind a tree full of leaves and tried to keep a considerable distance out of the four. The picture of the boys flushed on in him. He craved in his heart to help her, take her hand, help her get up again, wash her and hug her the same way she had done to the child, but he lacked courage to do so. He wished all the time to replace himself to the restless boy.

Cowardice, hypocrisy, hesitation and emotion are born-fed and can live on a poor sustenance, he whispered looking blankly at the pond.

He continued uttering, I wish I were the restless boy; I want to make her laugh, be kissed by her and washed by her with her soft and beautiful hands. I can’t remember if I were ever hugged by any man or woman belonging to my near and dear ones; neither father, nor mother, nor aunt, nor grandfather, nor sister nor lover. This heart is thirsty. I grow as a street puppy or a kitten grows up.

Tears rolled down his eyes. He had forgotten about his surroundings for a while; even the presence of the four could not strike him. He looked as morose as the boy had been.

He found two dogs stand at a distance. A fishy odour had filled the air. Listless eyes of Tantalus stared at them. Past flashed upon his mind. He remembered how seven teachers had rebuked him in a single day and two of them gave him a Pandy beating. He was then a student of class three. The class teacher told the students to write a paragraph on ‘Dog’. The day before, the teacher had asked them to get committed the paragraph from home to memory, but he forgot. Therefore, he had to depend on creativity though he himself was satisfied with what he had written; they threatened him, rebuked him, abused him and beat him.

One of the sentences of the paragraph was, We can see bi-faced dogs in the month of November.

In the Teachers’ room, he stood before the seven highly educated teachers as the Abhimannu of the Mahabharata. They were only, so to say, like those seven coward mythical heroes because they lacked the courage to bear the innocence of the boy. He was not killed physically as Abhimannu had been, but the innocence in him was shot at. Most of the words inveighed against him went over his head; he could only remember the word bastard that the bald-headed teacher had called him. He still remembered the word bastard because his private tutor also beat him in the presence of thirty-five students when he asked him the meaning of ‘bastard’, but later he felt proud when he heard the episode of the assassination of Abhimannu from the mouth of his grandfather after six years. He considered those seven teachers as those seven cruel and coward warriors and himself as Abhimannu.

Innocence should be weighed innocently otherwise its value suffers question, he thought.

The soul of the innocence that is now dead in me must be welcomed in Valhalla, but I question their souls, he said thoughtfully.

His grandmother first smiled when he complained to her against those teachers, but when he took off his shirt, she saw the reddish marks of the cane on his body; tears dropped down her eyes and she was extremely angry. Tantalus was puzzled when she rebuked him because he had thought she would balm his wound with her compassion. Now he realized well why she had rebuked him then. By rebuking him, she just wanted to water the fire in her.

She is no more, he said with a sigh.

He learnt the meaning of emotion, love and affection from his grandmother though he had had her company for only three years. Almighty snatched her from his life. Contents of happiness had been snatched one by one from him.

The girl put her skirt off to wash herself in the pond. She got down the pond and waded through water until she reached chest-deep water. He stared at her from behind the tree. He looked around to see if anyone was looking at him, but he found none. He looked up at the sun. He was sweating though it was not scorching. The weather was rather cool and pleasant. He found no explanation why he was sweating in a morn of winter.

I did never feel like this before. It is a wonder, he thought.

He looked thoughtful and felt a large amount of cold water running with blood through his veins. He was shivering. His body twisted in horror.

A sudden gust of wind blew over the trees causing withered leaves fall from them. A goat, which was grazing at a stone-throw distance, was munching a green twig that fell from a guava tree. He looked behind him; no dog was seen come running after him; He touched his head, but felt no horns had appeared there. He knew the story of Actaeon so, he was frightened at that moment, but nothing happened to him. Diana was bathing in the pond though half naked.

She bent to scrub the steel pail wearing her washed, wet, white and furry skirt. With her furry skirt and fluffy hair that cascaded down her shoulder, she looked like a Sphinx.

The pail that is in her hand can cause my death easily. I have read many books on riddles. They call me riddle-champion; but I fear that I may get nervous and can’t answer to any of her questions. The pail is made of solid steel. I have not read the latest volume. She might have bought and read it. He was brooding.

He smiled foolishly.

He touched on his heart to feel if it beat and put his palm under his nose to feel if inhalation was going on.

Who lies dead on the ground? How piteously he bleeds! Why is the wind blowing? Is it lamenting for the poor fellow? The kites are staring at the dead body. Will it tear the body? I would never allow it as long as I am here. Has he no relation? Then, why will he be born like a beast? I can’t think more. One stone is enough to cause the bird’s death. Why have you stolen my dress? Rise and put it off at once or you will be sued.

He looked at his own dress and felt relieved.

He could not understand why the face looked like his own.

Am I dead? Am I Lassar? Where is the dead body? Is it a trick of any enchanter? Was I dreaming? he muttered.

Caught in the net of this oscillation, he could not get at when she had left with her three brothers. The third boy was playing his role in him. He tried to drag back his attention to prove if he was under any illusion. She appeared before him as the washerwoman of Heaven appeared before Behula. He wished she would come a second time. Behula had her dead husband to revive.

But the love is dead in me and I would plead her to revive it. Is it dead or alive? I wish it is alive now, but if she kills it? I should better pursue her. I do not want to live my life only through perceptions, but through experiences to make it meaningful, he muttered with his eyes half-closed.

It was not an illusion. They came as true as urine at the time of defecation. He went towards the ghat, where she had bathed. The trace that she fell on the mud was still there. It almost looked like the monochord that his friend had gifted him on his birthday. He kept the instrument into a shelf. He wished it were then with him. He used to play it on moonlit nights and on the dark night before the death of his grandmother who requested him to play. It was the last time that she wished him play the monochord. It sounded piteous. The room was silent and dark except the melody of the chord. The picture of the night took a secure place to his memory. It remained to his mind as clear as a screen. It rained for few minutes that night. The tune and the rain struggled. The sun rose in the next morn; the soul of his grandmother evaporated from her body as the sun began to squeeze the rain-soaked earth. The greatest tune is that springs from the heart out of tune.

Tune is lost. The world needs tune! he gasped.

An odour entered into his nostril as he sat on the stone step of the ghat. He had felt the same odour one day when a neighbouring woman was washing her clothes. Then he sat there the same way an embryo remains in the womb. He will grow gradually.

He found a line of spill of water on the earth. He had a vision that she was carrying water holding the rim of her skirt with the left hand, leaning a little to the right side. Water spilled from the pail.

Following the spill, he walked along the path as a dog finds its familiar way that it has left far behind. Unlike a dog, he had never been familiar with this place. He smelt something beyond expression as well as to his realization. The spill stopped before the entrance of a narrow lane. Entering into the lane, he walked straight.

It is a passage between Earth and Hades, he murmured.

But he did not find the Erebus. A bird was twittering on the turret of a house. He stared at it and said, It is a bird of passage.

At the end of the lane, he found not more than nine or ten houses. He was in a doubt where he had entered; from Earth to Hades or Hades to Earth.

Suddenly, a filthy odour came straight into his nose.

Hell is before me. Hell is behind me, behind the cottage where I stay. Heaps of garbage. No difference, he said with bitter annoyance.

He noticed a man watering upon a wall from where few scattered spills streamed down the wall. He waited for his turn.

Here we act like dogs. We are dogs, he muttered with a gasp.

Though he never ever been here, it seemed to him that he had gone there before many a times. However, he could not call up the time as well as the reasons. The place seemed to be so familiar to him

Perhaps, thousand years have passed since I first came here, he guessed.

What is it- heaven or hell? The question made him restless.

But no one was there to respond to his question.

The pond before him was muddy and weedy. White swans were floating together. Hawthorns rose from the mud of the bank where he saw dry weeds lying.

Swans are the favourite