The Amazing Paperweight

By Minakshi Buragohain

Minakshi Buragohain is presently working as the Associate Professor of Tura Govt College, Meghalaya. She is a name to reckon in Assamese literary scenario. Till now she has to her credit 4 short stories collection, 3 novels and she has also translated 16 books from English to Assamese. Also many of her articles and poems have been published in various  newspapers, journals and magazines. Mrs Buragohain’s  stories and novels have been translated into Hindi, English and the Bengali languages. We can also find e-versions of some of her stories on the web. As a social worker she is an active participant in working for old age homes, orphanages and undertakes social tasks related to the uplift of the people. As a lover of nature, she likes travelling to different places in the hope of finding diverse life experiences for her stories too

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Rose Publishers
• Release date: Dec 1, 2022

Book preview

Preface

Stories are something that I love most. As reading stories is my passion, so is writing. The themes of my stories have always been based on life and real life incidents. It is because I believe that literature cannot be created without bringing in the reference of life. Since my college days, I began to write stories about life’s incidents. My first story was published in the college magazine ‘Cottonian’. That was the beginning of my journey as a writer and after that I wrote numerous short stories. However, some stories got lost somehow. More than 200 of my short stories have been published in numerous magazines and newspapers. Out of those in this present collection I have made an effort to translate 38 of my stories into English and bring forward for my readers’ perusal. Many people have co operated with me in this mammoth task. They have given their valuable insights and inputs in this process. I extend my heartfelt thanks to each one of them.

I hope this small endeavour of mine shall be able to fulfill the expectations of my faithful readers. It is a humble plea to all my people to accept this short story collection. I would like to thank Biman Arandhara, Sneha Verma and Bhaswati Bora for helping me in my translation process and thanks to Dhruba Kumar Talukdar for designing the cover page. I extend my heartfelt thanks to BlueRose Publishers and the entire team for helping me to bring out this collection of stories.

Minakshi Buragohain

Guwahati, Assam,

India

November, 2022

Delete

(Translated by Biman Arandhara from original ‘Delete’ in Assamese)

Renita alighted from the city bus at Nongthymai stop quite angrily. From there she decided to walk to Pohkseh. Of course, normally she didn’t enjoy walking. After walking a short distance she used to feel tired, pain in the legs and then headache. To be precise, she faced a lot of problems. Limitless inconveniences. Her mother used to scold her – ‘Why such a delicate body, that you cannot walk even a short distance!’ But today, she would walk even if she felt tired, her feet ached.

She pulled a few strands of her curly hair from the back to the front and wrapping the shawl a bit better, tried to walk faster. But the black and yellow taxis that plied to and from Umpling hindered her pace repeatedly.

Without looking back she sensed Thomas walking very close behind her. He came very close and then walked past her. She got amused, and also embarrassed. Shucks! She had mistaken someone else for Thomas! Getting a bit anxious, she looked back.

That meant? Thomas did not get off the bus? An unknown feeling bogged down her heart. Was this resentment? Or something else? Her pace slowed down.

Renita stopped near the rusted signpost that showed the way to the Indira Gandhi National Open University and looking in all three directions, wondered whether to go to her maternal uncle’s house at Umpling or to Binita’s quarters at Pokseh.

She headed for Binita’s house along the winding path. Her anger at Thomas gradually subsided. The coarse metallic sound made by the flat three-wheel water carts which the small boys drove down playfully, also upset her rising anger. Didn’t they feel tired? They would run pushing their carts with both hands up to the top of the road, and then drive down. Feeling warm from the walk, she adjusted her shawl like a churnni (a folded cloth used by women as a wrapper over the upper garment).

By the time Renita stepped on the premises of the All India Radio’s official quarters at Pokseh, the bright sun had hidden behind clouds. In a short while a cold shawl would envelop the entire city. In as early as October the nights would become numbing cold.

As expected, the locked door of Binita’s dwelling greeted her. Even though the duty of All India Radio’s Garo announcer Binita Sangma was from 6 to 7 in the evening, she normally left home in the afternoon. Hence Renita never forgot to keep a duplicate key to Binita’s door lock with her during her stay in Shillong.

Renita opened the door and peeped instantly into the kitchen. She craved tea. Out here she felt a stronger tendency to have tea; probably due to the cold weather. When she had first come to Shillong, she used to be very amused at the sight of customers having rice from quarter plates and sipping from tea cups at the Khasi restaurants. At the same time, she used to feel uneasy at the sight of huge blocks of red meat hanging at Rynjah market.

Now, there was neither that amusement nor the unease. Rynjah’s name changed to Umpling. Renita also became emotionless. No no, not that! Had she become emotionless she would not have been angry with Thomas today.

She switched on the television even as she prepared to make tea. Frenzied noise from a music channel filled the room.

She had already taken tea with Thomas at Laitumkhrah. While they were having tea, Thomas had suggested taking the bus because the taxi would take very little time to drop them at Umpling. She had agreed. But she also bought a newspaper, which was the root of all the trouble that ensued. After finding a seat for herself, she started reading the newspaper. Along with Renita who got engrossed in the newspaper, Thomas too ran his eyes over it. As her hand blocked the news on some communal clash somewhere in Uttar Pradesh, he pulled the paper from her and after reading the news, remarked, You Hindus are very cruel.

She confronted him with a scowl, What are you saying? A muffled argument ensued between them right inside the bus. And at one point of time she drew herself away from him. Thomas called out from behind, Don’t you understand a joke?

Indeed, Renita did not enjoy jokes. Like today she had avoided many people in the past. She was a veteran of bitter experiences with people who bragged before her.

One day when she was a little girl she had run away home scared after witnessing a goat being sacrificed at the altar during Kali Puja. She was terrified at the sight of the headless animal flailing about on the ground. The terror of that day haunted her even today.

Was this religious terror? Could be so.

She always tried to avoid all forms of religious discussions. Adverse comments on other religions also made her impatient. As she waited for the water to boil, she recalled what Thomas had said. Of late she was having the feeling that she was getting emotionally drawn to him. Sometimes she thought it was not so; it was a totally physical attraction. Thomas was taking advantage of her vulnerability.

Even if Thomas was physically attracted to her, what was there to complain about! After all, he was not newly acquainted with her. Her playmate of childhood and adolescence, Thomas and Pratapgarh tea estate – both were synonyms to her.

The gurgle of the reddish water of the Ghiladhari river that flowed close by, seemed to just ring in her ears. The sound of the factory and the aroma of tea also seemingly returned. No, the smell was of the water that had in the meantime dried up in the saucepan.

The sound of the calling bell startled Renita. Who could that be? Binita, Thomas or adolescent boys come to collect donations? Upon opening the door, she was taken aback; Thomas and Binita stood smiling. Renita did not utter a single word. She turned away from them and slumped onto the sofa. Binita tossed her bag onto the sofa and headed for the bathroom still laughing. Her behaviour gave Renita the hint that Thomas had in the meantime told Binita about her annoyance.

Thomas closed the door and sat very close to her. He held her right hand between his hands and pressed it gently. Such moments made her very emotional. Two tear drops must have formed in the corners of her eyes. Yes, two streams of cold tears flowed down her cheeks. So, were these tears of joy? Tears of sorrow were warm.

Even after Binita emerged from the bathroom, Thomas kept on holding Renita’s hand. She closed her eyes and let her head loose on the sofa. Binita gave Thomas an angry look. Her reaction was natural because his was a life of hard discipline as he was undergoing training for a missionary brother staying in the hostel. His life was devoid of women.

Have you fallen for her?

At Binita’s question Renita raised her head and opened her eyes. She had no answers to such questions. She closed her eyes again and rested her head on the sofa. Thomas too might not have answers. He drew back a little from her.

Recently she had asked Thomas to accompany her to Darjeeling. His answer was an outright no. She had been to Darjeeling twice. Once with her parents when she was young and a second time from her college, when Nibedan was in the group.

During the trip to Darjeeling an intimate relationship had developed between her and Nibedan. After returning from Darjeeling she used to spend hours together with him at Picadilly, Ramble, Sunflower restaurants at Panbazar. Kamakhya, Bhuvaneshwari, Basisthashram, Sukreswarghat, the zoo and even the middle of the Brahmaputra on a small boat… All such places they had been to! And, and yes, it was Nibedan who named her Renita. Renita Kashyap. She bloomed after changing from Ramala Saikia named by her father to Renita Kashyap christened by the one she loved.

There was no end to her inhibitions about the name Ramala. She could never accept it wholeheartedly. She used to feel a bit hesitant every time she had to tell someone her name. It was Nibedan who carried out all the formalities during the entire process of getting her name changed. He had advised her, ‘From now on don’t turn back if someone calls you Ramala. Otherwise people will continue to call you by your earlier name. Respond only if you are addressed as Renita.’

She carried out Nibedan’s advice in letter and spirit. And truly, within a very short time she became Renita. It was now that the name seemed to have matched with her personality.

The first time Nibedan heard her name, he had said, ‘You are a peculiar girl and your name is also peculiar.’

Indeed, everyone used to say that she carried traces of aristocracy in her. Sophistication showed on the beauty of her face. No, just saying sophisticated would be an understatement. Because of her curly hair she looked ultra-modern. But her mother was so remorseful about it! From her childhood she had heard not only her mother, but everyone else in the family say that her hair was awful and signified bad luck. And now, the same hair was a cause of envy for many. Even unknown women she came across would ask her with all sincerity, ‘Where do you get your hair curled?’ One of her friends was tired of frequenting the beauty parlour in the hope of getting her hair done like hers.

Nibedan too liked the curls of her hair. He was said to become excited even when he stared at it for some time. His absurd talk used to surprise her. She also got amused. And also, she enjoyed it. Naturally. Not only Renita, any woman of any age would be happy when someone praised her physical beauty. The mind would be filled with joy and contentment. And yet, humans could not create that beauty themselves. The basis of physical beauty was hereditary, and some women got that beauty morphed and became exceptionally beautiful. Many men used that particular weapon to further their self-interest. But Renita had now got used to all the praise for her beauty. Such remarks no longer caused any sensation in her. Of course, she did enjoy hearing words of praise from Nibedan. Not simply enjoyed, she used to be overjoyed.

Nibedan used to say, ‘You are really beautiful. Setting my eyes on the colour of your skin and your hair makes me seek nothing more.’ She used to laugh. He would say, ‘And your smile…. And your lips.’

She used to roll in laughter. Nibedan’s list would go on lengthening.

One day Nibedan who used to remain drowned in the intoxication of her beauty, went away. Very quietly…. Silently. He went away without her knowledge.

That year after the Puja vacation there was no news from Nibedan. She was tired of waiting for him. The boring afternoons at the hostel when she expected him to turn up turned into gloomy evenings. One day, setting aside all hesitation she arrived at his hostel. Many boarders were surprised to see her. More surprised were Nibedan’s two roommates. She asked them, ‘Hasn’t Nibedan returned from home?’

Both the boys stared at her in astonishment. After a few moments of silence one of them said, ‘Nibedan da has passed away. Aren’t you aware of it?’

She seemingly took ages to understand what the boy was saying. She had no idea how she left the hostel that day and reached her room. Even now when she recalled that day she felt it to be a hazy dream. One of Nibedan’s roommates must have escorted her to her gate on a rickshaw.

For a long time after that she persistently felt like having a dream. She suffered from frustration, unable to nurture a good opinion about life. Life meant death. That thought played consistently in her mind. She got seriously involved in discussions on books of religion and paranormal phenomena. And one day she returned home without taking her exams. She took to sitting beside the pond in the backyard of her home for hours together.

Someone had told her that people who lived long were not reborn. Because, during a long lifespan everything – from sorrow, to grief, to joy to happiness could be experienced. Consequently, the soul merged into the eternal being. Having heard that, she too nurtured the desire to live long. She did not want to come back into this world. If indeed there was an eternal soul, then her soul too would merge into it.

One day when she recounted to her mother what she had heard, the latter said, ‘If that is so, then you must marry and raise a family. There will be joy and happiness only if you raise a family. The joy of children, followed by the joy of grandchildren.’

She smiled. So did her mother. Seeing her smile after such a long time, her mother felt like having offloaded a huge rock from her chest. Giving in to her mother’s wish, she enrolled in a local college. Without her knowledge her parents started looking for a match for her.

Even after the days turned into weeks, the weeks turned into months and the months became years, the thought that Nibedan was no longer beside her bogged her down whenever she lay in bed for the long night. She would surrender herself in the lap of sleep with a feeling of physical and mental void. She would work throughout the day and try to walk so that she could sleep like a log at night. But she always woke up at midnight. She would check the time on the mobile phone. Sometimes it would be 2 am and sometimes it would be 2.30. During those moments her physical restlessness would become intense and she would feel a profound desire to hug Nibedan tight. The imagination that he was right beside her was so profound and her physical desire used to be so overpowering that she would feel compelled to sit up in bed to control herself. She would go to the toilet. There used to be no signs of even a modicum of sleep. The white bed sheet would shine bright in the weak light trickling in through the ventilator from outside. Nibedan used to often speak of white bed sheets. He used to say, ‘I shall cover the soft mattress on our big bed with a white bed sheet. On the table beside it a blue night lamp will burn. Your untied hair will lie on the pillow. The pillow covers too will be white. Your pink nightie…’

Yes, he could make apt descriptions.

When she started earning a few years after Nibedan had passed away, she made it a point to sleep on white bed sheets. Of course, she did not leave the blue night lamp burning all the time. She tried to follow many things that he had said. Like, using light pink lipstick, wearing two smooth gold bangles, putting on sobre clothes, and letting her untied hair lie on her back; whether it was in sweltering heat or in cold weather. He loved to see that form of hers. He was also fond of the fragrance of the tuberose. Sometimes when she got the opportunity she would bring home a bunch of tuberoses and put them in the flower vase beside the night lamp. She used to buy incense with the smell of tuberose and used perfumes with the same smell.

Everything that Nibedan liked was there, only he was not around. She would pace about in her two-room rented dwelling recalling the things that Nibedan was fond of and then decorate her place with those objects fetched from the market. She used to examine closely the objects that she brought home which occasionally made her forget that he was not around. She would ask him, do you like it? And, instantly she would come to her senses. If her next door neighbour were to hear her talk to herself they would think she had gone mad. The instant realisation that he was no more used to make her recoil.

She had spent year after year carrying the suffering, the sorrow within her. Of course, her present entity was with these sufferings.

It was also not that after Nibedan’s passing no other man had caused upheavals in her life. Thomas too came. And left. He was a Catholic priest. Even though his was a life with no place for women, some attraction drew him to her. Since he was her friend Binita’s cousin, they got the opportunity to meet at her dwelling and become close to each other. But he tended to become absentminded at the most intimate moments. As the most private moment for their union arrived, he would dart away from her like a splinter. He used to feel relaxed after saving himself from committing a big sin and leave not only her vicinity, but also the room. Thus went on a relationship. Whenever Thomas was near her he would try to discuss religion and she would not listen. She had stopped listening to religious matters long back. Religion was his main topic. He had become a father and wore a white robe.

Ah, that same white colour!

After that it was Dr Rahman. Temporary love; temporary relationship.

The colour of Dr Rahman’s apron too was white.

Nibedan’s dead body was also covered with a white cloth, wasn’t it? How did his body look like? If only she could have a feel of the hand of his lifeless body! That resentment lingered in her. That hand with long fingers in which her hand used to be hidden and he would say, ‘Your hand is so small!’

She did not understand why Nibedan remained by her side. The pupils of his bright eyes tended to follow her all the time. Even during her intimate moments with Thomas and Dr Rahman, she used to feel his non-physical presence; as if he were watching them. And Thomas and Dr Rahman too seemed to feel someone’s presence. Because of which her virginity did not come to an end with either of them. But she had wanted the joy of being deflowered. By Nibedan, Thomas or Dr Rahman. She did not feel proud of her virginity that was still intact; she felt resentful, sad. A little restless. Immersed in a colourful dream, she seemed to be eagerly waiting for the moment when her maidenhead would come to an end.

Okay, was there still time for that? She was now a middle-aged woman of fifty, no longer that twenty-seven-year-old Renita Kashyap who had become emotional with Thomas in the official residence of Binita. Yesterday she celebrated her 50th birthday all alone in her room. It being a Sunday and she did not have to go to office, it worked out fine. But the joy of celebrating the birthday was missing. She felt sad at having to complete fifty years of her life just like that. She also shed tears. She examined herself in the mirror, not noticing any change. Of course, ever since she learned to examine herself in the mirror, she had always been finding herself the same. It was only from the photographs that she clicked from time to time that she could tell she was undergoing change with age. And for the last several years she had not posed for any photograph. She would delete her photos that she clicked with the mobile and click new ones. Sometimes she replaced her mobile with another. The photos that she had clicked with the digital camera were intact. She had downloaded some photographs onto the computer, but those too were lost when the computer developed problems. Tomorrow she would go to the studio for a photograph. She would confine her fifty-year-old form to a paper printout.

Immediately upon turning fifty, she recalled many things. Her family and friends had advised her to marry till she was about thirty-five years of age. After she crossed 40, people began asking, ‘Why didn’t you marry?’

She did not have a convincing reply to that question. But whenever she gave one she faced a counter-question, ‘Oh come on, don’t say that no one proposed to you. Can that even be possible?’

She had proposed to Thomas also. She had said, ‘Forget about being a brother, father…’

During such moments he used to keep quiet. Of course, at other times he used to tell her that he loved her. He used to even SMS ‘Love you’. Even at the time of leaving the room in haste he used to plant a kiss on her forehead or lips and say, ‘Love you’.

Such incomplete, half unions used to make her resentful. The corners of her eyes used to often become moist. Actually, at such moments her mind used to wail. Only that, there was no outer expression to it. Even he used to feel bad about making her sad. Probably, he even felt like an offender. His eyes also seemed to moisten. After he left the room she would sit on the sofa and keep thinking about him. She used to also miss Nibedan. Till then she had not met Dr Rahman. Otherwise he too might have come to her mind.

She had no idea where Thomas lived now. After leaving her he even called her from the surroundings of his strict religious disciplinarian hostel. He used to pacify her mind with wonderful SMSes replete with beautiful wordings.

Thomas was very ambitious. From childhood he was steadfast in establishing himself in the world of his religion. It was she who had led him astray in between. And it was not that she had not felt guilty about that.

After Thomas left, the suffering of her heart increased. Gradually that suffering became one with her body, it became more intense. She could not make out why this suffering was happening. Was it of the mind or of the body? All the suffering tended to come out piercing through her heart in the form of threads. Finally, finding no alternative she opted for medical consultation. The doctor became suspicious. Without saying anything he referred her to another doctor. The second doctor also understood everything and after lots of tests and examinations, said with as much sorrowful an expression as possible, ‘You have breast cancer!’

She was surprised and said, ‘But I don’t have any tumour!’

The doctor replied, ‘All cases do not show similar symptoms. A tumour would have been better; it could have been removed. But in your case your entire breast will have to be removed.’

She heard the doctor out with full resolve and the very next day, started getting ready with the paperwork in order to go to Chennai for better treatment. Even as she got busy with the preparation, her colleagues gave their opinions and advice. Some of those could be accepted, some could not be digested and the rest shattered her heart.

In Chennai she met Dr Rahman. Of course, he was not her doctor. He had come to her room to have an urgent talk with her doctor, Binayak. At that time she was feeling pain all over the body because of the medicine administered to her. Not able to endure the pain she had clutched the hand of Dr Rahman who was standing nearby. He gave her a surprised look. From then on he started enquiring about her well-being. Even when she regained her senses after the operation and opened her eyes, it was Dr Rahman that she saw first. In subsequent times whenever she visited Chennai for checkups it was he who used to book hotel rooms for her. They used to have long talks on the mobile and sometimes when he was busy he used to leave