A BLAZE IN THE STRAW

GURU PRASAD MAINALI

— I—

GAUNTHALI, CHAMÉ’S WIFE, was a woman of acrid tongue. Even when anyone else addressed her in a decent way, she always slanted the issue and invented something to wrangle about. The couple quarreled over one issue or another necessarily once in every three or four days.

One evening, when Chamé came home after ploughing his field all the day, he found Gaunthali away to attend someone’s marriage in the village, locking the door. Crushed by the daylong toil, Chamé was hungry to his bones. As he put away his plow and yoke along the ridge and was preparing to tether the oxen to their shed, Gaunthali reached home, walking down the hill. On seeing her, Chamé was cross with indignation. No fire had been lit in the fireplace yet, let alone the question of preparing meal. Gaunthali unlocked the door hurriedly, picked up a waterpot and rushed off to the well to fetch water. Chamé lit fire in the fireplace and started filling his pipe with tobacco.

Like a cloud all set to storm down any moment, Chamé sat on the porch and started smoking. Gaunthali arrived, carrying the waterpot on her hip. Just when she was preparing to enter the house, Chamé shouted, “Spoilt woman! You stayed staring at men in the wedding, and act responsible now,” and charged her with a kick. Gaunthali staggered, and fell on the threshold. The waterpot got smashed, splashing water all over.

When Gauthali collected the pieces and was about to throw them away across the front yard, Chamé yelled, “Do not stay in my house even for a moment. Go wherever you may.”  Then, he pulled her by her lock and dragged her to the fringe of the front yard.

Gaunthali was partly guilty of some mistake. So she bore the first kick silently. But then, when Chamé caught her by her locks from her back side and pulled to the front yard, she yelled, “Take away your leprous hand. Blinded by their stupidity, my parents handed me over to a butcher. It’s better for me to drown and die instead of living as a pauper’s wife.”

“The widow perhaps thinks her father is quite well-off. He hardly has a square of meal, even after ploughing others’ field. She brags about her parents’ family,” said Chamé and charged yet another kick onto her.

Gaunthali shrieked, letting out a loud cry. The children from the village gathered on the ridge to witness the show. Chamé shouted at them: “Accursed ones! Do you think here is a show put up for you to come and watch?” Saying so, he chased them away with a stick. Laughing, the kids ran uphill.

Even as Gauntahli continued to weep, Chamé spread a mat on the veranda and lay down there to rest.

II

Early next morning, Chamé went out with his plough and oxen to plow his field with an empty stomach. When he returned home in the evening, Gaunthali was not there. When he inquired with his neighbors, they told him that with a bundle of clothes, she had headed towards her parents’ in the afternoon.

Till then, the buffalo was still on the front yard. On seeing Chamé, it started grunting. He placed some grass for it and released the calf. Shortly afterward, he sat down with the pail to milk it. First, it allowed him to pull some measure of milk, but as he continued pulling, it charged him with a potent kick, making him somersault backward on the dung pile, while the pail fell some three yards away. All his waistcoat and kachhad[1] were dotted with dung.

There was a stick thick enough to be circled by his fingers. Chamé picked it up and started blowing the buffalo with it. He had hardly charged a couple of blows when the beast broke off the tether and entered Kokalé’s maize field. Chamé chuckled, trying to tempt it into his bounds again, but the animal ran farther with fear, and kept moving from one end of the field to another. The freshly weeded maize saplings were all smashed. Kokalé’s mother came out into the yard and started cursing: “Let Chamé the corpse stay barren! The one whom even cholera couldn’t claim. He thrashed his wife yesterday; today, he beat the buffalo and sent out to ruin our income for the whole year. Oh, what a temper he has! Maybe the scoundrel is showing powers. Dhanbiré had befittingly kicked him last year, leaving him indoors the whole summer. He still thinks he is strong. Brave is one who handles the strangers; what worth is a man who beats his wife and bonded animals? No sooner does the dusk come than he finds one pretext or another to send a peal of commotion in the village.”

There was a wedding feast at Dhanbir’s home. Boys from the village were high on alcohol.   Kokalé, in the role of maruni[2], was playing the madal[3] and dancing. Other boys seconded him, harmonizing their singing and clapping with those of Kokalé. In the meantime, his sister came in and broke the news that Chamé’s buffalo had entered their cornfield.

Kokalé ran into the cornfield, still in maruni’s lehenga[4]. Seeing his strange dress, the startled buffalo started leaping away, raising its tail in the air. The few maize stalks that were still intact too were smashed now. Kokalé was cross with indignation on seeing all his maize stalks ruined. He caught hold of Chamé and slapped him on his cheeks with two powerful blows. Poor Chamé could utter no word. Only about midnight, four or five men got hold of the buffalo and pulled it into its shed.

III

Another morning, Chamé was seen fetching water from the spring, carrying the waterpot on his shoulder. The wife of Juthé Damai came walking down from the hills. Chamé was in extremely good terms with Juthé Damai. So he called his wife ‘Bhauju’, meaning sister-in-law.

On seeing Chamé carry the waterpot, Juthé Damai’s wife said, “Oh! How odd it looks when a man fetches water!”

“What can I do, Bhauju ? The widow is off to her parents’. Who’ll fetch water for me if I do not?”

 “When you start beating, you see no limits. What could the poor thing do but run away?”

“It’s all because of her tongue. It’s like a razor. What option do I have save beating?”

“It’s your beating that made her cheeky.”

“Shut up! How badly had Brother Juthé thrashed you once, last Dashain[5]? Did you speak a word?”

“It’s not just once! These days he seems quite devoted. But there was a time when he thrashed me every day. He came home drunk from Bhoté village in the evening, forged a ground and started pounding upon me. Worse was it during festival times. If the weather runs wet for a few days, my bones ache even today. I haven’t, however, spoken back till this age.”

“That’s it. Why then do you say my beating has made Gaunthali sharp of tongue? Had she been well-behaved like you, I would have worshipped her like a goddess.”

“Whatever the case, you should not be in odd terms with a witless woman. How long will you fetch your own water? Go; bring her back tomorrow itself.”

“If she realizes and returns, the house is still open. But I am not going to bring her back at any rate before I become a Podé[6] myself.”

When he was seen carrying a waterpot on his shoulders, Chamé, a darkish lad with juvenile line of moustache, appeared grimy in his waistcoat over a sleeveless vest, kachhad put in a lopsided way, black but dirt-tainted cap atop his head and a vermillion tika between his two eyebrows.

IV

One morning, Chamé was sitting on the porch, busy smoking tobacco filled in his pipe. Juthé Damai came walking down the hill. He was on the lead, walking with his son atop his shoulders. His wife followed him with a bundle of clothes clasped underneath her armpit. On seeing Chamé, Juthé Damai smiled and said, “How is everything, Kanchha?”

“I’m good, Dai.”

“That’s obvious. You sent your wife packing to her parents’. Enjoy on your own now.”

Juthé and his wife were in extremely loving terms. Juthé went towards the Majhi village everyday together with his wife to sew clothes. On the day, the couple talked about domestic issues, and about their little joys and sorrows. In the evening too, they returned home, talking. At night, Juthé would set the prayer lamp on its shelf and read verses from 'Biratparva'[7]. The wife managed the kitchen, listening to the verses. If Juthé fell sick sometimes, the wife would rush out into the village to fetch sorcerers. Whenever they went to the Bistas’ to sew, Juthé would sometimes jest with his wife and draw out his neck and wink, turning towards other people. On seeing this, the wife used to remark, “You’re not done with your teasing habits even in old age,” and turn elsewhere with a laughter.

Juthé was quite sensitive in sanitary issues as well. Early in the morning, we went to the tap and bathed.  After that, he would go to the place where women had boiled their clothes, smear some ash from it on his forehead and chant, “Bidhyutko sari roop liyi gaganma udnubhayo jhat tasai’, meaning, the Lord flew into the sky that very moment, taking the form of lightning.”

Chamé was driven into a spell of distress, whenever he compared Juthé’s conjugal life with his own. When Juthé’s family sat down to read the 'Biratparva' after meal, his family would start its routine quarrel. Juthé and his wife had such deep love. They walked about together, talking about their joys and sorrows. His own wife, on the other hand, quarreled and rushed off to her parents’ home. It had been so long since they married, but he remembered no day when her wife talked affectionately with him. On top that, the only buffalo he had didn’t allow him to walk near to it. It was fine that his wife went away; she left the buffalo ruined, rendering it single-handed. The unruly animal earned him a slap from Kokalé. He could push it down the cliff, but it was his landowner’s property and he would turn up the very next day to bind him. He could not spare the kitchen chores either. If he did, he would be obliged to stay hungry. He thought, it would be better for him to renounce such an accursed life and move about like a recluse, smearing ash all over his body. Yet, smearing ash would not solve his problem; he would be obliged to beg alms from at least ten households, making all their dogs bark at him.  On top of that, if people saw robust yogis moving about with turbans on their heads, they derided them saying, “You chose to be a yogi to escape tilling your field with a spade.” A recluse had to pass his nights in the wayside inns. If he ever fell sick, there would be no one to offer him even a drop of water. Whether or not others revered, they called themselves ‘Narayan Ba’ and moved about, putting ash smear on others’ foreheads. With big bags hanging from their shoulders, they moved from one barnyard to another. Such a life was nothing but an illusion that appeared cool when viewed from a distant location that was already smoldered by the flames of the world.

In the first seven to eight days, Chamé seemed attacking every single person that mentioned Gaunthali’s name to him. With time, however, he started missing her. He thought, ‘She was quite agile, though rather sharp of her tongue. If she brought home a pile of grass with interest, it would suffice for the buffalo. She cooked meals mornings and evenings for both of them. After she went away, maybe I prepared my meals for four days at the most. After that, I have been surviving on roasted corn. As long as she was there, the buffalo's milk filled the pail to its brim. She did the milking herself. Since she left, the buffalo has become quite recalcitrant. Everyone says I should bring Gaunthali back. Even Brother Juthé’s wife advised me to do so. At any rate, I must go and try once. Coming or staying back is her choice.’

Early next morning, Chamé took his meal and got ready to visit his in-law’s home. He fished out his flannel daura-suruwal[8] from the chest, and put them on.  Gaunthali had kept a bundle of tobacco atop his cap; it bore some stain from it. It was quite wrinkled too. Angry, Chamé started muttering to himself, 'Look at the widow’s ways! What worth is a thing unless one knows how to treat it? She would know if any of her forefathers had ever used such a felt cap. His father goes about in a khadi cap and a jute cloak. How would his daughter learn decent ways?  She’s a bull in a china shop.'

After babbling for a while, he unwrinkled his cap and put it on his head. He didn’t have a spare waistcoat. So, he put on the same old one. He slung a cloak bound into a bundle on his back and set out, carrying a ragged umbrella in his hand.

Chamé paused at a chautara[9]  a few yards below his in-laws’ home and wiped sweats from his forehead. In the meantime, he heard Gaunthali singing from the woods nearby, where she had been to gather fodder.  She was singing, “Udi jaaun bhane ma panchhi hoina, basna ta mann chhaina,” meaning, ‘I have no wings to fly away like birds. I don’t want to stay back either.’

Chamé muttered, “Our buffalo’s belly has shrunken like a Gainé’s sarangi[10] for want of food. The widow stays here, making the entire forest resound."  

After resting there for a while, Chamé got up and started moving uphill. As he reached the needle-wood tree near to his in-law's home, he started dragging his feet. He was afraid lest his parents-in-law should shout, saying something acrid. Dragging himself further, he came outside the gate. There he saw his mother-in-law sitting at the scullery, scouring the frying pan. His father-in-law sat on the porch, smoking.

On seeing his mother-in-law, Chamé put his hands together in greeting. The mother-in-law answered his greeting with her hands, still unwashed.  Following this, Chamé walked on to the veranda and sat down. The father-in-law asked Chamé to hold his hookah pipe in hand for a while for him, and bowed down on his feet. Chamé joined his feet together, making it easy for the old man.

Gaunthali arrived in a while with a bundle of cut grass. Clad in flannel blouse and chintz phariya[11], she had gathered up her phariya to wind it around her girdle. She had bangles in her arms and a coral bead in her necklace. Her bosom was full, and her forehead glowed with a thick vermillion tika. With a rhododendron tucked on her hair, she looked quite beautiful in her dusky complexion. Chamé was gratified on seeing her enticing form. It seemed, Goddess Laxmi had come down in person and entered the house.

When the day gave way to dusk, Gaunthali came to Chamé and fell onto his feet. Chamé was pleased beyond telling. He was besieged by an urge to get hold of Gaunthali and plant a thousand kisses. He stretched his hand to get a touch of hers; she pushed his hands away and entered the house.

After dinner, they managed a bed for Chamé on the veranda. He reclined on it, but could gather no sleep at all. All he did was waited, hoping Gaunthali to come near.

Soon, they were done with their dinner. They quickly finished the kitchen chores too. In a while, someone was seen walking upstairs with a wick-lamp in hand. Soon the door was bolted from within. Chamé was left gawking.

Many a thought poked Chamé’s mind. He said to himself, 'Fie on me! Why did I beat poor Gaunthali that day? Women are always so anxious about to attending someone’s marriage. Gaunthali too was in her prime age; all she did was she went for a while to watch a marriage. If a man cannot stand to see his wife going out to see a show for a while, how can he expect to own a wife? What is sillier than beating a wife for being slightly late in preparing a meal? It’s my beating that made her rather cheeky. If she returns home this time, I shall never maltreat her. Tell me if I didn’t keep her more respectfully than Brother Juthé does!”

Chamé was tickled by many of such thoughts. From beneath, fleas were causing him havoc with their bite.

At dusk, he heard the sound of a door being unlatched. He alerted his ears to know if it was Gaunthali. To his dismay, it was his father-in-law. After unbolting the door, he went towards the backyard to pee. Chamé had passed the night without having a wink of sleep.

VI

It was time to set the cattle free. Chamé's father-in-law sat on the side-wall, smoking. The mother-in-law sat on the veranda, seeding maize kernels off the cob. Gaunthali was inside doing kitchen works.

Seeming rather abashed, Chamé said to his father-in-law, “It’s cultivation time. Please send home your daughter.”

His father-in-law coughed for a while and rested his cheek on his smoke pipe. Then he said, “I have heard, you call us names telling that we are paupers. We are poor granted, but we have not approached anyone’s doorstep till this day to beg. We gave you our daughter after washing your feet[12]. Convince your wife and take her. We have laid no bar on your way.”

Chamé stared at him, grinning.

After finishing her kitchen task, as Gaunthali was ready to move into the woods with her basket and tumpline, Chamé caught her by the arms and said, “Where are you off to with that basket and tumpline? Come; we are going home.”

“I would rather die than go home.”

“Where else would you go, if not home?”

“Why should I care? For a loner, any place would do. I can even become a recluse and move about.”    

“Who will gather fodder for the buffalo if you become a recluse?”

“You will do it. It’s your buffalo, after all.”

“Do not babble anymore. Come with me, quick.”

“So that you would invent a ground and beat me again?”

“I promise. I would rather die than lay a hand on you.”

“If anyone would believe you…”

In a while, Gaunthali came out, dressed neatly, and beautifully made up. Her mother set aside a small parcel and a jar of curd for them. With the parcel clutched underneath her armpit, Gaunthali walked on the lead. Chamé followed, carrying the curd jar. On the way, they got into talking.

“How much milk does the buffalo give these days?”

“A pathi[13], the shares of morning and evening put together.”

Gaunthali turned towards Chamé, and pouted in annoyance.

The sun appeared on the hilltop, preparing to set. Cowboys were seen walking uphill with their herds on the lead, sending a cloud of dust in the air. Chamé reached the spring nearest to his house together with Gaunthali. They could see Juthé’s wife coming down the hill with a waterpot in a basket. Seeing Chamé in front of her, she jutted out her tongue in astonishment and said with a smile, “Oh! Wife on the lead and her man in the rear, like a pair of shelducks! How beautiful you look!”

Gaunthali displayed a slight smile and said, “Do not rejoice, Didi. You never know when the misfortune can fall again.”

“Now you know how soon you lick one another again! A squabble between man and wife is nothing but a blaze in the straw.”

***

---

[1] a male loin worn around the waist, reaching up to the knees

[2] the lead dancer in a traditional ballad dance

[3] an elongated Nepali drum played by beating on the two circular ends with palms  

[4] a long skirt, usually worn during dancing sessions and important ceremonies

[5] one of the major festivals celebrated in Nepal in the autumn

[6] a community considered low in Nepal, and usually involved in cremating dead bodies for wages. Here, Chamé makes the reference in the sense of ruining himself

[7] A chapter in the Mahabharata

[8] a pair of typical Nepali pajama and trousers worn by Nepali men

[9] a wayside mound, usually under a tree, built to serve as a resting place for travelers-on-foot  

[10] a typical Nepali lute used by minstrels who belong to the Gainé community

[11] a woman's loin cover down from her waist up to the feet

[12] As a part of the marriage ritual, a daughter's parents are supposed to wash the bridegroom's feet with votive water, before ritually handing over their daughter to him

[13] a Nepalese unit of measuring eight; one is equivalent to approx 3.2 kg