ROSE ATTAR
(Short story)
SRIPADA SUBRAHMANYA SASTRY
Translated from the
original in Telugu by
DR. M VEERABHADRA SASTRY
Another step forward,
the Dewan comes into view.
Several kinds of people,
fawning, waiting and calling on him in his crowded room are already in view.
They included prominent citizens, kinsfolk of the king and employees of various
grades. Some of them noticed the new arrival, Shukurali
Khan.
Khan stood near the room
and peeped in. He straightened himself and with stretched hands held the small
Attar vial, pulled the cork out and after a split second replaced it.
The fragrance that
spread in the air in that flash of time made everyone of those present take a
serious note of it. Some of the Jawans nearby felt
intoxicated. The gentlemen inside the chamber inhaled
deeply with enlarged nostrils. The Thanedar who stood
behind the Dewan glancing over the papers before him
looked up with surprise and interest: “So, the Khan comes!” he said to himself
and diverted his glance in embarrassed puzzlement.
Dewanji jerked his head up and
in a stern voice demanded; “What odour is this?” His
irritation found an expression in feigned cough. A dark patch
in pleasant moonlight.
The Attar made of khus-khus gave, no doubt, a strong scent but was very pleasing.
The Dewan calling it an “odour” moved many of the
audience to mirth, but they suppressed their giggle, transferring it to their
looks. The Thanedar turned his head glancing
significantly at a prominent man in the audience. Even the Jawans
felt the coarseness of the Dewan and bent their heads
biting their lips.
Khan was stupefied. Dewanji’s choice of words, he felt, came as a portent. The Dewan was just around fifty and there could be no
justification for him to be averse to the fragrance.
Very recently, Khan
visited Golkonda, it took two difficult months for him to gain entry into
the palace. He had to work out his way to the vizier for over several weeks.
But, once he could reach him, there were no further problems. The vizier was
clay in his hands as soon as the same khus-khus Attar
was shown to him. Not only the vizier, the others too and even the Nawab himself had appreciated the quality of his scents.
As against the turmoils at Golkonda, it took two
difficult months for him to gain entry into the palace. He had to work out his
way to the vizier for over several weeks. But, once he could reach him, there
were no further problems. The vizier was clay in his hands as soon as the same khus-khus Attar was shown to him. Not only the vizier, the
others too and even the Nawab himself had appreciated
the quality of his scents.
As against the turmoils at Golkonda, it was a
walk over here in Peddapuram. The day
on which he set his foot, he gathered all the information necessary. The Thanedar was won over the second day. On the following day
he gained entry into the fort. And now, this blockade!
The Hindu royalty and
gentry did not fancy much for pleasures like this, he knew. That did not mean
they were cool to such things. Even so, Khan could not swallow the fact that a
person only next to the king was as insensitive as to call the fragrance of a rare Attar merely an “odour”. It
was not compatible with the dignity of a royal court. Was it such that the Dewan was unaware of the slur he was creating on the image
of his ruler or was it an indication of the royal attitude too being similar?
Khan grew uneasy about
the outcome of his trip to Peddapuram but he did not
give way to despondency. He looked
at the door-keeping Jawans with vacant eyes.
The Thanedar
directed his glance to the door and called the Jawan
in a loud voice. The Jawan went in obediently and
reported that an Attar merchant had come seeking audience. The Thanedar added in a low tone: “Yes, the same saheb I told you about.” But the Dewan
took no note immediately. After a few seconds, the Dewan
said, without lifting his head and in a biting tone, “Does the fellow wish to
open a shop right in the fort?”
Khan’s face became white
with cold rage. The Jawan and even the Thanedar were dumbfounded. But an old scholar among the
audience opened his toothless mouth seizing the opportunity, “If you kindly
pardon my impertinence...” Dewanji still continued to
exert feigned absorption in the papers before him. But the scholar continued
undeterred, enlisting the support of others by his earnest looks. “If may not
be entirely charitable to remark that the fellow is trying to open a shop here.
However he appears to be an enlightened man. Because the Thanedar
could only introduce him, his abilities remain unexplored. And, would it be
proper for such a one to speak about his own
accomplishments? So, I think he did a right thing in making his Attar speak for
himself. Quite appropriate, is it not? He comes from
Dewanji kept silent. But he put
the pen down and picked up his snuff box. The Thanedar
knew it was an indication that the Dewan relented. He
directed the Jawan to send Khan in. Dewanji sat with knitted eyebrows. His eyes sparkled with
some sudden devilry.
Khan came in and salaamed the Dewan. “I have come
all the way from
The Dewan
responded only with a batting of his eyelids. “On what
purpose?”
“I make Attars, your honour. I was told that Peddapuram
was the only kingdom worth visiting after Golkonda empire in the south. So, I came on wings to your august
person.”
“Yes, yes. One on wings
is sure to fly over to one place or the other.”
Khan was hurt but did
not lose his balance. “As your honour so aptly put
it, one had to fly to a place where he hopes to find patrons like your honour. That was why, four
generations ago my forefathers left
Noncommittally, the Dewan said, “Could be. He still wore a stern look. Khan
went on.
“I obtained leave from
my father and came down to the south in order to serve the royalty here. I am
happy that the Nawab of Golkonda
and his viziers appreciated my industry.”
“Then, it is well.”
“As I already submitted,
I heard about the Peddapuram kingdom and its great
traditions. I came rushing here. With your kind indulgence, sir,” said Khan and
placed a small container with a red soft silk lining before the Dewan. A small bottle lay in it. The eyes of the audience
were filled with greed as Khan explained:
“This is jasmine Attar.
The bottle contains only two tolas of it. But it took
two spring seasons to make it.”
The Dewan
just made a splutter of a sound with his tongue.
“It would be improper on
my part to eulogize on my product. Your honour can
assess it as well. But one request. Please keep the bottle a little away from
the face when your honour uncovers the cork.”
All the men around
steadied themselves with concentration anticipating the strong scent. The Dewan scoffed: “As if we are dying to uncover it.”
It was with difficulty
that Khan maintained his poise at the crude, crushing words of the Dewan. He was not unaware how men turn into brutes
intoxicated by power. Moving among thousands of officers in Delhi, he learnt
the ways of the world. He was not incapable of hurling back a fitting retort.
But that would not help the purpose on which he went there. Shukurali
Khan valued his reputation more than the monetary gains. For that, it was
essential for him to meet the king. The kings were usually surrounded by beasts
like this.
He resolved to keep
unruffled even if it demanded much effort. An alternative to a cutting repartee
was to allow him to make
an ass of himself. As the Khan was about to say something, the Thanedar intervened, “Dewanji
would scrutinize the Attar at a convenient time. You may meanwhile submit why,
you came here and what you want.”
The Khan took out
another small casket with a green silk lining. It held a small glass vial with
some red essence in it. The bottle was sparkling like a diamond. All eyes were rivetted on it except, of course, those of the Dewan. Blow after blow to Khan! But he remained stolid.
“I prepared this Attar
specially for His Majesty, the king of Peddapuram, I
heard that the Nawab of Golkonda
favoured Attar of khus-khus
and so specially made it. With a similar devotion, I prepared this rose Attar
for His Majesty, as I learnt that he favoured this
variety. The bottle contains only a tola of it. I
used Kashmir variety of roses for that. In and around Delhi, we get only the
Persian roses. So, it took full two years for the preparation.
Khan’s narration won
appreciation and goodwill among the men in the room. Dewanji
did not give out any such feelings. He simply said in a monotone: “No surprise.
It takes time if one wants to produce good things.” He then added jeeringly:
“At what cost price?”
Dewanji saw the effect of his
words on Khan who was petrified and felt a viscious
pleasure. The onlookers were dumbfounded.
A few moment passed.
Khan controlled himself and found tongue. “You are aware, your honour, that it is intended as a present to His Majesty,
the king of Peddapuram, a diamond among the royalty
of the south. A question about its price cannot crop up except in disregard of
propriety,” he said in a hurt, yet dignified, tone.
Dewanji feigned innocence and
said: “We put the question only in the process of assessing how well you are honouring our lord.”
“Am I to conclude that
there is no one to assess such things in the royal court?”
“You tell me it is
intended for my king. Do you, then, think somebody could uncover the lid and
examine the contents before it reached him?”
“If you graciously
permit me to present……..”
“Well, we are the king’s
servants and we have certain duties and functions.”
The eyes of the old
scholar gleamed with mockery at the words of the Dewan.
Was the Dewan behaving like one? Khan ventured a
sarcastic dig: “Exactly what I would submit, your honour!”
The Dewan
went on resenting the interruption: “Do the viziers at Delhi simply allow
anything purported to be intended for their Emperor without the least
scrutiny?”
All the men in the room who were sympathetic towards Khan recognized the impasse created by the evil genius of the Dewan. Among themselves, they communicated with one another their disgust through mute signs. The Thanedar in an attempt to save the situation, addressed his words to Khan: “Dewanji is extremely busy attending to some important matters. You may go now and come to wait on him later.”
Khan felt the warmth of
sympathy from all others which soothed him in a way. He salaamed the Dewan and retraced his steps.
By the time he crossed
the threshold of the room, a Jawan joined him and
handed over the two containers.
Khan could not think of
sleep that night. Neither could he relish food. He felt a dull pain in his
head.
Scenes from his meeting
with the Dewan earlier appeared and reappeared before
him and made him live again those wounded moments of shame, helplessness, anger
and hurt. Pointed glances of the Dewan, and his
enquiry about the cost price of the rose Attar haunted his mind.
Life never moves
uniformly smooth. Its ripeness and maturity warrant hurdles and challenges.
There was pleasure in overcoming unforeseen difficulties, Khan reflected.
While the qualities of
head lead life in some cases, the qualities of heart dominate in the other.
Where more importance goes to the brain, people tend to become rigid and
unsympathetic. Arts and appreciation of arts and skills go closer with the
qualities of heart. The bliss arising out of artistic creation or temperament
is the culmination of an untiring pursuit of artistic interests, with pure
heart, dedicated attention, and undivided disposition toward keeping oneself
and people around happy and comfortable. The creations of such people lend
meaning and purpose and enrich the human existence. Khan was one such man.
Khan would not have felt
upset if the Dewan refused his offer. Khan was never
after money. He longed for recognition. If what he wanted was mere prosperity
in trade, what need was there for him to undertake the arduous journey to the
south? Viziers, opulent persons, dignitaries of the Moghul
court” – all the more those who could appreciate his work – were many in Delhi.
What brought him all the way was the reputation of the king of Peddapuram, Sri Sri Sri Vatsavayi Chaturbhuja
Timma Jagapati Maharaja, as
connoissuer of supreme taste –a greater one than the
Sultan of Delhi. Khan could not resist the temptation. He did his best as he
never did in his life till them. He flew on wings to the Andhra country, to Peddapuram.
And in Peddapuram! Did he land in a ditch with thorny bushes! He discovered
that the diamond after which he came lay concealed in a heap of worthless
pebbles. The dirty trick played by the Dewan was
beyond even the much intrigue–given viziers of Delhi. The Peddapuram
kingdom that was so attractive from afar was disappointing from within. He felt
like one who lost his way in a forest of wild animals. He cursed himself for
venturing into an unknown land.
But, how could the
Maharaja know how an artist was suffering at the hands of his heartless
servants? Are not many instances of dissatisfaction and resentment even in the
reigns of great and just rulers merely caused by the stupid overactions
of unfit men in higher s eats of echelon?
Khan began wondering
whether he could ultimately get out with self-respect in tact, let alone honours from the court.
A distant crow of a cock
heralded the dawn.
The first thing Khan did
was to run to the Thanedar and fall at his feet. The Thanedar was aware that no one till date had produced such
magnificent Attar in the court of Peddapuram. He was
also aware that the Dewan did not want Khan to
receive the honour due to him. Khan would rather lay
down his life than disclose the cost price of the Attar. If it went to the
notice of the king, he would undoubtedly extend his generous patronage to Khan.
The Thanedar knew this for certain.
The Thanedar
sat pensive for a while and abruptly shot a question, “Can you take a risk?”
“I find no way of
keeping up my pride. Why live without it?”
“Then, listen carefully.
It may not be possible for you now to enter the fort. In case you can enter,
you may not be able to advance. Supposing you somehow advance, you cannot stay
there long enough. But, if you can manage, there is a way to fulfil your desire.”
“I am all ears. sir.”
“The Maharaja mounts his
best horse and goes out for a ride at seven thirty every morning. You should
make an endeavour to catch his eyes after he reaches
the open yard inside the fort and before he crossed the main gate. At least,
your khus-khus Attar must draw his attention to you.”
“As you command, sir.”
“Listen, Dewanji might have guessed this possibility. He would have
taken steps to prevent the occurrence. Anyway, no orders have been issued until
this minute. If you are lucky enough or the Maharaja is, this may not cross the
mind of the Dewan. This is all I can do for you. Now,
you are on your own.”
Khan let out a deep sigh.
“The one I presented
yesterday to you was sandalwood Attar. Please accept this bottle of khus-khus. Dewanji had not been
kind to me and had no chance to accept this. You were kind enough to guide me
in what could be my last move. If I survive this day, I assure you, I shall
cherish the help you rendered until my last breath.”
Khan bent his head and
salaamed him thrice before hastily withdrawing.
Khan entered the fort.
He passed through the
semi-circular path leading into the open yard. Four soldiers who were on watch
swarmed around him and stopped him on the edge.
Blood boiled in Khan.
With a mighty effort he mustered a composed appearance. “I am proceeding to
call on Dewanji. Why do you stop me?”
“This is not the proper
time to call on him. Go back.” they cried harshly.
“I am not a total
stranger. I called on him yesterday evening on business. It is in that
connection I go again.”
“Not now.”
“Then lead me to the office·room of the Thanedar.”
“The Thanedar
is with Dewanji”
“In that case, I shall
wait in the room till he returns.”
“No waiting business in
the office. You may as well go to his residence in the town and wait there.”
The
discussion went on ……. pleads and
counter pleads.
Khan gratefully
remembered the advice–“Somehow manage to stay on long enough.” The soldiers had
their orders from the Dewan not to let Khan advance.
They felt happy that they could stall him. One by one several other people:
thronged the scene. Some men moving in and out too stopped and looked on. Some
persons of nobility who played chess and cards with the Maharaja arrived and
watched the scene with interest.
New arrivals began
enquiring as to what was happening. The soldiers explained the situation. Time
passed on in a heavy tread. Khan heard his inner voice telling him that he had
but to keep his ground for a mere few minutes more. Someone came rushing and
whispered to the soldiers who were content to have managed to halt Khan’s
advance. They suddenly moved into action and pressed Khan to get away.
Khan knew that the
Maharaja had started. And so the soldiers wished to send him away. They might
not argue any more but push him out of the way physically. Had all his effort
to go in vain? Cannot he do anything?
Khan trembled with
impotent rage. His eyes were blood shot. His looks became sharp like arrows. He
flared up. “Is this the honour given to arts and
skills in the famous kingdom of Peddapuram?” he
shouted in a shriek. He pulled out the bottle of the rose Attar. All the men
around stupidly stared at him.
“I prepared this
specially for the use of the great connoisseur, Sri Jagapati.
I held him in respect. I regarded him on par with the Sultan of Delhi. I had to
build it up drop by drop. I fancied that this Attar would give me the
recognition I wished for in my life. Having come here all the way, I ruefully recognised that the Lord of Peddapuram
is surrounded by ignoble men. The fragrance of a rose can be felt far away. But
the existence of the thorns around it is felt only when one approaches it. I do
not take this as a discourtesy to me personally, nor to my rose Attar. I have
no way left to reach the great lord. But, I would not take this back with me. I
would rather welcome death–extinction of my family which keenly pursues this
profession. Let the fame of the Peddapuram king, so
vilely corrupted by the intrigues of the Dewan, live
long and exude fragrance purified by my rose Attar.”
So saying, Khan held up
his breath for a while and threw the bottle striking it against the wall of the
fort.
The bottle broke into
smithereens.
The gentry of the royal
company gaped with blowing, thundering hearts.
A divine fragrance
pervaded the air.
Men around felt
intoxicated.
A few seconds passed.
The audience regained senses and looked at Khan, who stood rooted to the ground
as wood. They saw his fixed looks and turned back.
Sri Sri
Sri Vatsavayi Chaturbhuja Timma Jagapati Maharaja sat on his steed with eyes closed in a
bliss. The steed lined its head high and was making an effort to breathe deeply.
People who visit the
scene relate that the area smells like a rose even now.