TWO WIVES

(Short Story)

“KUMUDINI”

Translated from Tamil by Dr. Prema Nandakumar

I met Arunachalam’s wife on the Madras beach last month. The Arunachalam I speak of is a well-known writer. It is not proper to mention his real name. Hence I am using this name. I love meeting his wife whenever I go to Madras. She is a very pleasant lady, full of mirth and laughter. She loves playing with her son on the beach. When I met her she enquired about my well-being and asked me to come over the next day to their house for lunch. They had just then built their own house and had settled there.

I went to their house the next day, all happiness. They showed me round the house. Bureaus fixed within the wall, the drawing-room all mosaic, “shower” in the bathroom. I praised the set-up generously. Later it was sheer enjoyment to eat the sweets and good food prepared by that lady. There are beautiful women among housewives. Then there are housewives who are extremely capable in managing their houses. But I feel this lady is the most beautiful and at the same time most efficient housewife I have ever come across. Arunachalam is a lucky man. Readers are only used to his humorous short stories in which the husband and the wife wage a continuous war of words. They would certainly be surprised that so much unity and joy are in his house.

After lunch, Arunachalam and myself adjourned to his “office” and discussed the state of the publishing world for quite some time. His wife was playing with the child in the garden. There was a swing in the garden. She would place the child on the swing and give it an effective push. When the swing returned, the child would dash against its mother. Immediately it will explode into laughter.

“Are you not disturbed by the child when engaged in writing?” I asked him.

“Yes. In fact, previously I had a wife who had no child”, he began. Then slowly he unwound and gave me details or his past life. He did not give the story in such a logical progression. But I have tried to present it so, and as far as possible in his own words.

“When I finished college, I joined as a clerk in a company in this same city. Thirty-five rupees salary. I was already married. My wife had no close relations. Her father died soon after our marriage. The salary was little, but I brought my wife here and we set up house. We lived in a two-room portion in Triplicane. My wife kept those two tiny rooms very neat. She would cook only what I liked. Even my clothes I was not allowed to wash. She herself would wash them shining white and fold them up in a neat way.

“Yes, his shouting is a disturbance now and then. It cannot be helped. A child must play. He should not be controlled. The garden is small. When I see this I am reminded of a French writer. ‘Open the window. Let the garden have some breeze!’ Sometimes I feel like going up into the open terrace and work there. But I love watching the mother and the child.”

He was silent for a moment. “I had a wife before. But she had no child”, he said lost in memories.

I had known Arunachalam fairly well. But I never knew that this lady was his second wife. Hence I was surprised.

“That was when I began writing stories. My wife assisted me in this job as well. After dinner she would sit near a hurricane lamp and take my dictation. ‘You have worked throughout the day. Go and lie down’, I would tell her. But she would never listen. ‘You are jealous that my handwriting is better than yours’, she would say and laugh. Really, her writing was sheer joy to read.

“On Sundays we would go to the beach and converse endlessly, building castles in the air. My stories were all rejected. But what if? My heart was not sore. Both of us believed that I would be a great writer one day and earn astronomical sums. She would imagine the house we were going to build after the good days came. I would detail the lovely sarees and jewels I would buy for her. She was beautiful.

“She wanted to possess an Assamese khaddar silk sari. ‘Oh, describe to me that sari!’ she told me once. I complied with her wish. ‘Sea-green, dark-green. That colour silk interwoven with gold zari. Bordered with lotuses. A light-green blouse to go with it. And a string of pearls’. Green was ideal for her rosy complexion. When I described it, she felt as though I had already bought it. She smiled, holding my hands to her eyes.

“In those days we cooked only once a day. The left-overs were for supper. After two years of such hardship, an editor accepted one of my stories for publication. I remember the day when his letter came. It was nine in the morning. My wife opened the envelope. The famous editor had written accepting my article and asked me to meet him if that were possible. My wife read that letter eagerly several times. In fact, after all these months of disappointment it was hard to believe in the letter’s message.

“It was six months after that that my first novel was published. You know how it became an immediate favourite with the readers and I became famous. I resigned my clerical job and accepted the post of editor for a well-known magazine. But I had to work harder than before. In the mornings several people would come to meet me. Day-time was for the magazine office. Evenings used to be filled up with lectures or meeting political leaders or writing articles.

“I was unable to spend leisure hours with my wife now. There was hardly any time even to meet her. We had a good income now. So we moved to an independent house. A cook and servants were engaged. I used to take my wife to music recitals or cinemas. For the rest life was dull for her. My good fortune had resulted in our becoming remote to one another. She used to be tired just by not doing anything. In the olden days she could be proud of being my amanuensis. But now I had a steno and a typist in the office. She decided that she was of no use to anyone. ‘What is the use of my living?’ she would curse herself. One day she told me that she wished to join the films.

“I was shocked. What was I to reply? Firstly, she had no talent for acting. Even if she did possess the talent, would I like my wife being an actress?

“Do you know how to act? What makes you think that even if you act, you will get money and fame? What experience do you have? You have never shown any interest in that field!” Such my objections.

“But I want to do something.”

“Does that mean you should become a cinema actress? You have only seen how the audience reacts with clappings when a successful cinestar appears on the screen. You think it is so easy! Before gaining such fame, that actress has spent ten or fifteen years learning to act and sing. Only she knows the hell she has been through. There will be very few things that she can be really proud of. Instead of being a minor actress to be shouted at by the director during the shooting, is it not better to be welcomed to the front row as the wife of a well-known editor?”

“I do not propose to be a minor actress. You have influence with several producers. If you recommend my case, they will give me the heroine’s part!”

“Oh, Lord, you do not know how to act!”

“So you have decided that I am an idiot, incapable of doing anything!”

A week later she returned to the subject. “Yes, I do not know acting. Let me learn it from somebody.”

“After recommending you, suppose the producer has losses, how can I meet him again?”

“Always the same tune! You have decided that I am no good,” she said and wept.

“If they do not advertise that a famous actress is in the film, who will come to watch it?”

“Mrs. Arunachalam would do. The wife of a famous editor!”

“Mrs. Arunachalam or Mrs. somebody-else, you do not know how to act. People will not pay to see actors who cannot act.”

“Go on, repeat it. You have concluded that I cannot act.”

“What conclusion?” My tone became harsh. “Acting and film engagement are not learnt in a couple of months; One needs to toil for several years. I do not want my wife to be a film actress. You were so happy and contented when we were poor and indigent. Why are you disgruntled when we have grown prosperous?”

“Then I did what I could. I had some work to do. But now there is nothing. I would like to do something.” She was adamant. The chasm between us became wider with the passage of time.

My wife had an aunt in Madras. She was well off. When we were poor she gave us nothing except pompous counsel. Now, she drew closer to my wife. In fact she began treating me as if, she were my mother-in-law. “The girl is so full of enthusiasm. Why not accede to her wish?” she would say. I would be angry and reply sharply. This would incense her and she would goad my wife in my absence.

One day my wife came to me and said that since I had rejected her request for help, she was determined to enter some production unit in a minor role and make her way up gradually. Was this to be the end of our unified, loving married togetherness? If she followed her inclinations, it would be impossible for us to live together. She will have to live separately. And yet she spoke of this with great calm.

When I thought of our togetherness and affection and mutual love, I was deeply hurt. I spoke to her gently. But she was firm in her decision.

After recounting all this, Arunachalam was silent for a while. We could see the mother and the child playing in the garden. The boy had got down the swing. The mother was an elephant now and he was the rider. He could not always balance upon his mother’s back, and would roll over. There would be peals of laughter at such mishaps.

I felt happy as if I were watching a superb painting. And then I sat comparing this happy picture with the sad story of the first wife. I was pulled back to reality by Aruncchalam’s voice.

“What do you think was the end of it?”

“Evidently she followed her inclination.”

“Oh, no. She had to follow the whims of her child,” he said and pointed his finger at his wife and child with great pride.

“By God’s grace from the day there were signs that she was to become a mother, the film-madness left her. From then on no difference of opinion has marred our life together. We are as united as ever”, he said.

Before I could give vent to my wonderment, his wife came to the window. “Is our playing and laughter disturbing you?”

“Oh, no, no. Laugh as much as you want. In fact we are also coming out to join you in the fun”, said Arunachalam and got up.

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