Srikanta

By Saratchandra Chattopadhyay

The novel, Srikanta, depicts the story of a vagabond young man who wandered from one place to another harbouring some inexplicable yearning. He remained a stoic all his life even as he lived among beautiful women. He lived apathetic to worldly pleasures. He was dear to all but belonged to none. An immortal piece of work, the novel was written by globally renowned Bengalee story-teller Sharat Chandra Chattopadhyay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diamond Books
• Release date: Jun 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9789350830277

Book preview

Part - I

One

In the dusk of my life, as a homeless wanderer, when I attempt to narrate my story I recall innumerable instances, which manifested all through the journey.

I grew old living a similar life - a nomadic life, ever since my childhood. I was always disliked by one and all and hence I started believing the same about myself. While recollecting the events of my earlier life today, I realise that the feeling of dislike and contempt felt by others for my existence was a highly exaggerated one. I was one such being to whom God provided little wisdom but it was not enough for me to be called wise by this world. The divinity often does not bestow on people like me the ability to excel in pursuit of intelligence. Such entities as mine become naturally undesirable and disliked in the society. The intelligent and the wise people often laugh on hearing about us. We silently desert such surroundings after undergoing humiliations and insults and our identity remains obscure for long.

Let me move on and relate those instances, which I incline to disclose here. While it is easy to wander and move about, it is difficult to recount the experiences of doing so. It is difficult to put such experiences on paper especially for a person like me who is not blessed with poetic imagination. I cannot visualise beyond what physically appears before me. I am not a bearer of poetic imagination and insight. Also my life being full of unexplained paradoxes leaves hardly any scope for poetic description. I, therefore propose to sincerely and unpretentiously put forth my life story.

In order to explain the reason for my existence as a tramp I need to tell about the chap who ushered me into addiction. His name was Indranath. I met him for the first time during a football match. I am not aware if he is still alive. Because early in the morning, on one fine day, he left everything, his belongings and relations, and went away forever. It is difficult to forget the day on which I first met him.

There was once a football match on the school ground between the Bengali students and the Muslim students. It was going to be evening and I was captivated and enjoying the match thoroughly. Suddenly I heard the banging of sticks and shouts, Hit him! Catch him!

The crowd watching the match dispersed and I could not know anything. While I gained consciousness I realised that I was surrounded by about five Muslim boys and there was no scope of escaping them. Indranath was the one who leaped inside the circle in which I was trapped and protected me.

Indranath was very tall but slightly older than me. He was dark complexioned, with a nose thin like a pipe, had a broad forehead and his face had a few marks of small pox.

He said, Why be afraid? Follow me out!

His courage combined with his sympathy and sense of pity was not ordinary. His hands were definitely not ordinary but quite sturdy. They reached beyond his knees and were very strong. Nobody could have imagined that such a lanky man would suddenly give a heavy punch on the nose during a fight. It was nothing less than a lion’s paw!

I came out of that trap clinging to him, behind his back, following him in just about two minutes.

He shouted, Run away!

I enquired as I started running, What about you?

He replied in a dreary voice, At least you try to escape, you donkey!

I turned around and said No, I won’t.

I had come to the city just two or three months back to my paternal aunt’s house for pursuing my studies. I came from my village Gavaii where I had never indulged in such activities as a child and as a student. Yet I was not timid to leave

Indra alone and run. Indra looked at me and said, Will you wait and get beaten? Look, they are coming here…okay, let’s run …hurry.

I ran. I have always been very good at this exercise. When I finally reached the main road it was already evening. The lights in the shops were already lit and the kerosene lamps of the municipality were also already illuminating the streets.

We no longer have to worry, said Indra very casually.

I was very thirsty but surprisingly not breathless and it seemed as if nothing had happened.

Indra further asked me, What is your name?

Srikanta… I replied.

Srikanta, good, he said and removed a few dry leaves from his pocket. While he put some of them in his mouth, he gave the rest in my hand and said, Eat… Those rascals have been beaten badly.

What is this? I asked him.

‘Bhang,’ he said.

I shockingly said, I do not eat this.

He was amazed and said, You don’t eat this! You will enjoy it if you chew and swallow these leaves.

I was not aware about the bliss of such indulgence. I refused and returned those leaves to him. He chewed the leaves, which I returned to him and swallowed them.

We walked further.

Take. Smoke this cigarette, he removed two cigarettes and a matchbox from his other pocket and said. He lit one of them and started smoking it in a strange way using both his palms like chillum. The first puff lingered for a while. There was lot of people around. I fearfully asked him, What if somebody sees you smoking?

I don’t care. All know about it, he said and continued smoking.

As we moved on the street and reached a corner, he turned and went away. He left an unforgettable impression on my mind. I remember everything that happened that day. The only thing I don’t remember is about my response to that remarkable boy on his chewing bhang leaves and on his smoking a cigarette.

It was about a month since this incident occurred. One night it was very hot and dark and there was no breeze. All of us were sleeping on the terrace of the house in the open. It was going to be midnight but I was sleepless. Suddenly, I heard the sweet tune of a bhajan being played on a flute. It was a popular bhajan tune, which had been heard many times by me but it never sounded so enchanting as on the flute. There was an orchard on the south-east of my house which had turned into a dense forest of trees due to neglect. A trodden track was formed there due to the movement of cattle. It seemed that the sound was moving on the same track towards us. My paternal aunt got up and sat.

She told her eldest son, Naveen, is this flute being played by Indra who lives at Raibabu’s house? I understood that all of them knew about Indra who was playing the flute.

My eldest cousin Naveen replied, Who else can play a flute in this manner? And who else can dare to enter the forest at this hour?

Oh ! Is he coming through the deserted track?

Yes, my cousin replied.

Thinking about the dense forest my aunt fearfully said, Can’t his mother stop him from doing this? So many people who passed through that place have died due to snake bite. Why is this boy there at this dark night?

My cousin smiled and replied, Is this not the shortest route from his house to this place? Why will someone, who is not worried about death, take a longer path? He wanted to reach quickly. The presence of wild animals or even a river does not matter to him.

My aunt sighed and remained quiet. The tune of the flute could be heard more clearly for sometime when Indra was closer to our house and then slowly it declined as he moved away.

This was the same boy Indranath who had saved me that day. Earlier I wished that I could fight like him and now I wished that I could play the flute like him. I kept on wondering about him until I could finally sleep.

I wanted him to be my friend but did not know how to? He was older and had quit the school. The Head Master of the school had punished him and hence he rebelled and quit the school. He later told me that he only committed a small mistake. The Panditji always dozed in the classroom. One day as he was on his ususal doze, Indra softly reached his lock of hair from his back and cut it short by using a pair of scissors. Panditji didn’t lose much, as he returned home, he found the separated lock of hair in a pocket of his achkan. It was not lost indeed! Even today Indra could not understand why Panditji’s anger did not mitigate and why he railed against him to the Headmaster.

Indra could never realise the gravity of his mistake but he definitely knew that he could not return to school after rebelling badly. His guardians could not succeed in sending him back to school. He left the pen and took the oar in his hand. Since then he had been spending his entire day oaring a small boat in the river Ganga. He often took his small boat into the fast moving waves of the river, waiting to be carried away by the river.

I yearned to be his friend and became one. People who know me tell me that it was not proper on my part. I had come to the city for studies and should have concentrated on studies. People question me about my longing and liking for Indranath because his company, they think, was responsible for my plight. I have often been asked the same questions and I have pondered over and over again for answers in vain.

I remember that day very clearly when inspite of rains throughout the day, the sky was not clear in the evening. As was our routine after our meals in the evening we sat in the drawing room near the lamp for studies. My uncle was lying on a cot in the veranda enjoying his evening nap and on the other side, Rai Kama! Bhattacharya after having opium was enjoying the hookaah with closed eyes. There were darwans at the threshold singing the Ram Charit Manas. Inside I was studying with my three cousins and my elder cousin, my aunt’s intermediate son, Satish supervised three of us while he studied himself along with us. My cousin Yatin and I studied in the same class. We both studied in class three. Satish, who was supervising us, had already attempted the entrance exam twice without success and was preparing again for it. He was very serious and did not allow us to waste even a single minute. We had to study from seven thirty in the evening until nine o’clock at night. We were not allowed to speak but had to show chits if we wanted to drink water or go out of the room. We were relieved only for one or two minutes. Due to such strict supervision, we did not waste any time while studying. At nine in the evening, we went to sleep only to get up next morning and go to school. While his brothers did well at school, Satish in spite of discipline in studies could not succeed. I felt that his examiners could not understand him.

That evening while I gave my chit asking permission to drink water to Satish, I heard a huge sound behind my back. My youngest cousin screamed and while Satish got up startled, the lamp fell and it became dark. Looking at all this happen, he lost his senses and lay on the ground. My uncle held his two sons in his arms and started screaming. Meanwhile, the guards present there held a thief who was trying to escape from there.

My uncle shouted, Beat him! Hit him…!

A lot of crowd gathered outside the house. After beating the thief badly in the dark they threw him towards the light. On seeing his face they were shocked to know that he was none other than Bhattacharyaji himself. People around tried everything to bring him back to senses and later asked him why he tried to run away.

He replied, I saw a big bear moving about.

Yatin and his younger brother supplemented, Father, it was a tiger not a bear, we saw him!

Meanwhile, Satish gained senses and said, The Royal Bengal Tiger!

Some believed this story while others did not but certainly there must have been something, which so many people saw. All started looking for the wild animal.

At that moment Kishori Singh, a wrestler, shouted, Look at that…that and in a big leap landed up in the verandah, All came running to the veranda. Just outside the house, there was a biggish pomegranate tree and an animal was visible in the bushes around that tree … large.. resembling a tiger.

In the crowd stood my uncle who shouted, Bring a weapon … a gun. His neighbour Gaganbabu had a Mungeri gun but there was no one who could bring that. The pomegranate tree was near the main gate of the house and no one could dare to pass through it.

In such an hour of danger, Indranath, emerged from nowhere. May be he was passing through the road in front of the house and entered being drawn by the uproar. The entire crowd shouted at once, Tiger, Tiger, run away chhokra (boy)! Initially, he was terrified and rushed to the verandah. Later, as he learnt everything, he took the lamp and ventured to look out for the tiger all by himself.

Women on the top floor of our house started praying, my aunt started crying out of fear. Below in the crowd were the chowkidars who shouted at Indra words of encouragement and tried to tell him that they would have come to his rescue if they had some weapon. After careful observation Indra said, It does not seem to be a tiger. Before he completed his sentence the Royal Bengal Tiger clubbed his hands and started crying, Soon he began speaking in the voice of a man, I am not a bear or a tiger, I am Srinath, the bahupoopiya (mimic).

Indra started roaring with laughter.

Bhattacharya removed his sandals to beat the man, "Scoundrel! Did you not find another place for doing all this drama?

My uncle shouted, Bring that scoundrel here!

Since Kishori Singh had seen him first, he thought it was his right to punish the man. He pulled Srinath’s ears and brought him out. Bhattacharyaji hit him with his sandals and said, I was beaten badly because of him.

Every year during this period Srinath came to this place for his livelihood. He had come earlier just the day before, disguised as Sage Narad singing The Bhagvad Gita.

He fell on the feet of my uncle and Bhattacharyaji seeking pardon and said, Out of fear, the kids made the lamp fall and started screaming in the dark. I, therefore, hid myself in the bushes. I thought that I would perform before all of you once everything cools down. I could not dare to come out when I saw such a crowd.

Meanwhile my aunt said from the top floor, You people were lucky that there was no wild animal around otherwise the kind of boldness you and all your guards showed would have put you in trouble. Leave this poor man. The courage that Indra showed as a boy could not be seen among the entire crowd present here.

My uncle pretended that he could have given a reply to her but considered low to indulge with a woman. On my uncle’s order, Srinath’s tail was cut and he was left free after that.

My aunt said to my uncle with anger, Keep the tail, it may be of use to you.

Meanwhile Indra asked me, I think you live here, Srikanta?

I said, Yes, the asked him, where are you going at this hour? At night?

Is it night? It is evening. I am going to the river to catch fish. Will you come?

I asked fearfully, You want to go for fishing in this dark!

He said laughingly, Afraid of what? It is fun. You can find fishes only in the dark. Do you know how to swim?

Yes, very well. I replied.

Let’s go! He said and held my hand.

I cannot pull the small light boat on my own. Especially, when the tide is in opposite direction. I am looking for someone, a friend, who is fearless, he said.

I did not say anything. I quietly came out of the house holding his hand. I could not believe that I actually was going to the river on that dark night inspite of the strict discipline at home. I could only wonder at my attraction towards him. Soon we reached on the trodden track in the dense forest of trees near my house. I followed Indra to the bank of the river Ganga in a dreamy state.

There was a rocky steep slope underneath and a big old pipul tree overhead. The river was hitting the rocks and flowing at a great speed. Indra’s small boat was tied there and was constantly being pulled by the waves.

I too was not timid. Indra handed me the rope to help me get into the boat. He asked me to be careful. He told me that if I fell in the river, it would forcefully carry me along. I shivered at this thought.

I asked him, How will you manage?

I will untie the rope and jump in. Don’t worry, he said.

I managed to get into the boat but I did not know how did he manage. I had no courage to see how he got down into that small boat. I could only hear the sound of the waves. Indra laughingly started rowing the boat in the river.

* * *

Two

In a few moments there was darkness around and the river was endlessly in vision on both sides flowing at a tremendous speed with our small boat on its lap. The tide was high and the waves were whirling depicting the dark fearful embodiment of nature.

I was not aware about our destination and was surprised at Indra’s skill of rowing.

Suddenly he said, Srikanta, are you afraid?

No, I said.

He was happy. If you know swimming, you need not be afraid.

In reply I took a deep breath. It did not matter whether one knew swimming or not on such a high tide. We kept on moving in the boat for a while until I heard some sound. We heard the sound intermittently, Indra told me that barriers built for controlling the flow of river were crashing as the river was flooding. It was difficult to pass through them, he said. He asked me if I could propel the boat with oar. I told him that I could do that. I too therefore started rowing the small boat.

He drew my attention towards a direction wherein was formed a small lake and asked me to remain cautious and quiet while rowing through slowly, else the fishermen in the area would catch us and thrash us badly. He insisted that it was the only safe way to move on, for even the big ships would be lost on the alternate route consisting of rough waves.

Why go for fishing then? I said and stopped rowing.

Meanwhile, the boat moved backward and Indra said,

"Why did you come with me then, you timid? Let me drop you back