HEART’S HUNGERS AND HEARTBURNS

(Short Story)

Dr. KEWAL DHEER

(Translated from the original in Urdu by Madan Gupta)

Across the road, right in front of me, stands Malti. I cannot believe my eyes. I feel like going up to her and greeting her. But in spite of my keen desire, my feet refuse to move. I stand like a statue looking at her, staring at her.

Malti is not alone. There is another person with her – a young man. He is busy looking at the decorative pieces in the show window. Then he turns round and moves forward saying something to Malti. I see his face. It is dark and ugly; pock-marked and pale. My thoughts bring forth all kinds of visions before my mind...They move forward. My eyes pursue them. After walking for a while, they turn on a road going towards the west and vanish from my sight. I turn back towards my hotel.

I am staying on the third and last floor of Hotel Sweetheart. From the window of my room I can see the turning where my eyes lost Malti. I look towards the turning searching for her. A storm is welling up within me. The past is becoming alive and with it come to life heart’s hungers and heart-burns. I feel uneasy. A long forgotten pain grips my body. Images from the past appear and disappear before my eyes.

One year ago I had received Malti’s last letter. It was a long letter whose contents are still fresh in my memory. “All my emotions, all my thoughts, my entire being, are wrapped up in your love,” she had said. “I worship you Rajiv. I have dreamt dreams of decorating my desolate and dreary life with the perfumed flowers of your love. I have prayed that these dreams come true ......! But dreams are mere dreams. The stern stare of reality turns them into vapours. But, dear Rajiv, this much is a reality that even without getting you I have got you. My life always be illuminated by the light of your love. Its shine will never pale. The perfume of these flowers will never fade ...” It looked that in a fit of emotional insanity Malti had laid bare her innermost thoughts in that letter. At the end she said, “But, Rajiv, promise me that you will not let our paths cross again. I wish to live so that my love may live. Life’s journey is long. To undertake it I have found a companion. You may call my choice revenge if you see my life companion. You may consider that I have gone berserk. But this is not true. The name of my life companion is Kailash. His exterior belies his interior. He does not have a fair face but his soul has the shine and shimmer of pure silver. His heart has the vastness of an ocean and that ocean has nothing but love. And for my journey through life, I need only love ...”

No doubt the man I saw with Malti was Kailash, her husband. “What a strange woman you are Malti,” I say to myself. And my mind starts resurrecting the past. My thoughts turn to the point where the beginning of this story took place; when Malti and I had met for the first time four years ago. Malti was the reigning queen of my friend Yash’s heart. I had just returned from England after completing my course in medicine. Yash was an old pal of mine from school. We had spent our childhood together. He was the only son of a well-to-do father. After graduation he had gone into business. He had told me about his hysteric attachment to Malti and that he wanted to marry her. “Then do so,” I had said. “If the girl is willing where is the hitch?” “But there is a hitch,” Yash had confided. “If you help it can be overcome.” “What sort of hitch?” I had enquired. Yash had told me that due to a misunderstanding Malti was angry with him. He wanted me to smoothen matters between them. I had told him that since I didn’t know her and had never met her, it would be wrong for me to intervene in such a personal matter. “Rajiv, you are a doctor,” Yash had said, “So is she. You can get to know her easily and talk to her.” He had entreated me for help. For, the first time I had learnt that Malti was a doctor and was in charge of the local Government maternity hospital. Although it was an unusual assignment and something which I normally would not have undertaken, on Yash’s insistence, I agreed. I decided to meet Malti the next day. “What can I do for you?” Malti had asked as I entered her drawing room. She probably took me for someone who had come for professional advice. I had not introduced myself and had decided to plead Yash’s case only as his friend. The matter was delicate and I didn’t want to create any misunderstanding about myself. Therefore I hesitated for a while how to broach the subject. “Can I do anything for you?” Malti had said again looking at me. Her voice had the trained politeness of a good doctor. “Doctor,” I had said, “We are strangers and I have come to talk to you about a very personal and delicate matter. I hope you wont mind. There was a look of surprise on Malti’s face. After a few minutes reflection she said, “What is it?” “I am Yash’s friend and...” Before I could say anything further she had interrupted me saying, “Please go away at once.” And without waiting for me to leave, she had walked out of the room. Anger had made her face red. Disappointed and ashamed, I had come back. This was my first meeting with Malti brief meeting which was anything but pleasant.

I have moved away from the window and have flung myself into an armchair. The room is filled with smoke almost as mist sometimes spreads in the atmosphere making it blinding. Surrounded by smoke I start scratching memory’s slate...After appraising Yash about Malti’s reaction, I had flung her out of my mind. Then I had taken up a job with the Institute of Medicine and had come away to Lucknow.

Next year the annual conference of the Medical Council was held in Nainital during the summer vacation. Considerable importance was attached to this conference both by official and non-official circles because world renowned scientists and doctors were attending it and the subject was problems of medical research. Another attraction was a summer in the pleasant and healthy surroundings of Nainital. Many well-known personalities had reached Nainital well in advance. I could reach only a few hours before the opening on account of Veena’s illness. Out of the three research papers to be read by Indian doctors, one was mine. My participation was therefore essential.

The bungalow where arrangements had been made for my stay had other guests also. A doctor friend of mine from England had also come. As I came out of my room to go and see him, a young girl passed by me. I felt the girl was Malti. After a few steps I stopped. She also perhaps recognised me and turned back to look. Spontaneously I said, “Hello.” She said nothing and giving me a dirty look moved on. I smiled to myself.

In the morning session of the second day’s proceedings, mine was the first paper to be read. Before I came on the dais, I was introduced in glowing terms. I had noticed that Malti was sitting in the second row on the right. There was a look of surprise on her face. Perhaps for the first time she had learnt who I was.

I had got very very tired at the end of the day. Before turning in I also wanted to prepare a reply to the various points that arose in the discussion on my paper. Just then I noticed Malti standing at the door.

“Can I come in?” she asked

“Of course, Malti,” I said. “By all means.” And I smiled.

Malti entered the room and sat on a chair facing me. She was quiet and a little self-conscious. I found her serene and serious face very attractive. She was fair, had sharp features and was tall and slender. Her face was studded with large and luminous eyes which had the parental protection of long, drooping eyelashes. She had rose-red lips and pearl-white teeth. Her long hair fell leisurely on marble-white arms. As she sat thinking I could not help saying to myself, “What an exceedingly beautiful woman.”

I broke the silence and said, “You are perhaps thinking of our first meeting Dr. Malti.”

“I am thoroughly ashamed of myself, doctor,” Malti said in a soft, subdued tone as if she was feeling extremely repentant.

I did not let the ugly incident corner the conversation and we talked of this and that for quite a while. Malti asked a lot of questions about me and praised my contribution in the field of medical research. During the conversation, there was not even once a mention of Yash. When she left, I felt that she was not only very beautiful but was also intelligent, well-informed and well-spoken.

At the end of our five days stay in Nainital we were no longer strangers. After the busy sessions whatever spare time there was, we spent together. Her smile had the capacity to capture hearts. Her personality had a magnetism. Her mind had the depth of bottomless seas. Every moment I spent with her was a moment made eternity. It looked as if I had suddenly been woken from deep slumber.

I had to return to Lucknow that day. When I mentioned this to Malti, I could see despondence descend on her.

“I know you are a busy man,” she had said, “But Rajiv, can’t you stay another day?” There was yearning in those words and tremendous tenderness. I could not say no and changed my departure to the next day.

The Hilltop Restaurant gave an ethereal view of the glorious surroundings of Nainital. Sitting in a corner we guzzled that glory greedily. I thought suddenly of Yash. Although I had not met him since our last meeting and had no idea how his love-affair with Malti had progressed, I, without any reason, asked, “How is Yash?” Malti was taken aback. The question froze her. “Rajiv, please,” she said, “Don’t talk about him.” I could discern sadness on her face. It seemed that she had got entangled with something within her. Sometimes she looked at me; sometimes she kept quiet or talked in monosyllables. I could see that Yash’s name had touched a raw wound somewhere in her.

As the evening turned into night, dark clouds gathered in the sky. There were signs that soon there may be a heavy cloudburst.

“We have come very far,” I said to Malti, “let’s turn back before we get caught in the rain.” A smile appeared on Malti’s face after hours. “So what?” she said in a carefree fashion. “It will only wet us.”

“With the rain there may also be a storm.” I had added.

“With you by my side, who is afraid of storms?” she had replied. Just then she had stumbled and I had to give her support to prevent a fall. This had brought her into my arms. In a whisper she had said, “But for you I would have had a bad fall.”

Then we had turned back. She had held my hand throughout.

We hadn’t covered even half the way when it started raining heavily. By the time we reached the bungalow we were completely drenched.

While saying goodnight, Malti had squeezed my hand in both her hands and had placed her lips on it. The longing in her eyes unnerved me. I hadn’t known such an experience before.

I passed a disturbed night that night. Before that Malti was for me no more than a cultured, attractive and intelligent woman who could be a good friend. But the cold quiet of that wet evening had made me aware of another aspect of her personality. Her behaviour that evening was evidence of an attachment she had developed for me. What relationship her fantasy had established between us I was unable to guess. I had merely said to myself “Malti don’t be a prey to any misconceptions. Every fibre of my being is in love but that love is the exclusive preserve of Veena. No one else can enter that preserve.” And then I had decided that before I leave Nainital, I shall tell Malti about Veena.

Malti had come to see me off when I was leaving for Lucknow.

I could see a sadness on her face – a gloom. Her eyes were wet. Looking at her, my resolve to tell her about Veena broke. I kept quiet lest anything I may say may make her more miserable. I decided that I would write to her as soon as I reach Lucknow that I am a married man and therefore any feelings of love for me are bound to end in a tale of woe.

The room is full of smoke. I feel suffocated. Taking the support from table lying in front, I get up and opened all the windows. The December evening is icy cold. Gusts of wind come and strike my face but my suffocation persists. I feel as my whole body is, on fire. I come and stand in front of the window from where is visible the crossing where I had lost Malti. My eyes turn towards the crossing. Memories of days gone by start crowding mind...

Malti had also come away from Nainital soon after. This information I had got from a letter I had received from her three days after my return to Lucknow. The emotional upheaval that Malti was going through was also evident in the letter. I was therefore not surprised that she had decided against spending the rest of the vacation in Nainital.

I had several times decided that I shall tell Malti about myself but somehow could not act on this resolve. Perhaps a weakness in me forbade action. Time passed. Malti’s letters came regularly. My replies also went with the same regularity. Her letters had no emotional outbursts, no sob-stories of languishing in love, no soul-stirring sentimentality. Every word was measured and matter-of-fact. The writing was concise, cogent and clear. It had expression and lot of power. This helped to develop an affinity between us and a year passed by.

I had to go to Delhi to attend an official meeting. Malti was in Agra those days. Acting on an impulse I decided to break journey in Agra. Malti’s servant told me that she had gone out for a delivery case and will not be back for two or three hours. To while away the time, I started looking at the books neatly arranged in a bookcase. There was a rich collection on varied subjects besides medicine. I took out a few books of interest to me and sat down on a bed-sitter. Among the books I also found Malti’s diary. I kept it aside and started turning the pages of a book. I could not for long suppress my desire to look at the diary. Picking it up I opened it. The page in front of me said, “They say that God one cannot get but a godly human-being is possible to find. But I have found one who is God personified. Rajiv, this is you. Someone has said that man is the image of God. My God is you, Rajiv. You have enriched my life as nothing else ever had.” A cold shudder passed through me as I thought of the misery that disillusionment will inflict on her. Fear gripped me. I started reading the diary from the beginning. The first few pages contained Malti’s early life. “I wish you were alive today mother,” she had written “and could see the fulfilment of your dreams and desires that your daughter should become a doctor. But you did not wait mother. You saw nothing but misery in your life. Your husband, who I am ashamed to call my father, made you cry all your life. Drinking ate away every pie of his. Your life was spent in the claustrophobic confines of the house which put to death all your dreams. When finally T.B. took him away, there was nothing but desolation and despair for you. I know how you brought me up, mother. You worked day and night so that I may survive. Even the trinkets on your toes had to be sold. The house was mortgaged so that your daughter may not droop in despair. Mother, you wanted that I should become a doctor and save human lives; bring succour to the suffering humanity. You went away, mother, but I promise you that your wishes will be fulfilled.......”

I found the account of her life very upsetting and decided to skip some pages. The next page before me read, “Life’s long journey cannot be undertaken alone. One needs a companion. This need I shall have to fulfill myself. Father, mother, brother or sister I have none. Who else is there in the world to guide me ... Naresh, when I met you I thought I had found such a companion. I told you my life’s entire story. You gave me sympathy and assurance of abiding love. I trusted you. But you spurned love, the world most cherished wealth and let yourself be lured by the glitter of gold. Perhaps you did’nt understand what love is. You insulted it because you knew no better......”

I was deeply moved by this chapter in Malti’s life. Hundreds of questions rose in my mind about the frailty of human relationships: about inconsistency in men’s behaviour. Just then my eyes caught Yash’s name. “You are the second man, Yash, who has betrayed me. Why should I blame you? The blame is mine. I trusted you and accepted your protestations of love. You are a rich man. All the trimmings of richness are yours – a palatial house, a fleet of cars. Life’s luxuries are at your beck and call. I have never hankered for any of these things. I have only yearned for a heart beating in unison. All that you were after was my body. Your play-acting of a love-lorn, you thought, would make me surrender myself to you. Perhaps you took my love for a commodity that can be bought and sold in the market.”

The truth abut Malti’s relationship with Yash was very revealing. I felt extremely annoyed with him. A repugnance arose in my mind. I felt ashamed that I called such a man my friend. Just then the old maid-servant brought me a cup of tea. The interruption scattered my thoughts.

As I sip the tea I am looking at Malti’s picture in front of me. Her guileless, serene and soft face makes her look like a goddess. I find myself drawn towards her by bonds of love which are pure and personal.

The diary has given me an insight into Malti’s feelings for me. Extreme restlessness gets hold of me – a feeling of guilt. “What will she think,” I say to myself, “when she comes to know the truth about me? Was it right for me to keep quiet when she had made her feelings apparent? Is not my silence responsible for making her adorn her thoughts with the dazzle of dreams?” I felt that it would be criminal to keep quiet any longer. My silence may singe her in the fire that she kindled within her. With these thoughts hanging heavy on my mind, I write in Malti’s diary “You are a brave girl, Malti, to have fought valiantly against your faltering fortunes. I wish I could be your companion in life’s journey. But this is not possible, Malti. When I became aware of your feelings, an innate weakness prevented me from telling you the truth about myself. Today, after reading your diary, I feel like a culprit. The response you are looking for will not come from me. A long time ago I became Veena’s prisoner. I am sorry that I did not tell you this earlier. Perhaps it was so ordained ...” The truth is extremely unpleasant, Malti. But by keeping you in the dark longer, I do not wish to deceive you. I also don’t want that you should put me in the same category as Naresh and Yash ... Tears and tribulations; pain, hurt and hardship make life a cruel comedy. Its tricks make one tremble. But along with disappointment, there are sparkling interludes which add lustre to living. Don’t allow your future to be massacred by the misfortunes of the past. Be brave. A guiding star is bound to appear in your sky. Good bye.”

Outside, near the door, was a pot containing a rose plant. I plucked a flower. Touching it with my lips, I placed it on the page on which I had written. I could not withhold my tears. A hurt ravaged my heart. I left Agra: without meeting Malti.

A few days later when I returned to Lucknow I found a letter from Malti waiting for me. She had written, “You came and went away. You didn’t meet me. Who knows now whether we will ever meet again... Reality of your situation is unpleasant. But accepting it did not make me cry. I shed no tears. It has given a rent which has become a part of my personality. It will always stay with me as a precious keep-sake...I will never be able to overcome my love for you. It will give me solace in my lonely hours...”

Many months passed. Time sped. But it did help me to erase from my memory my meeting with Malti. I remembered her often. My mind felt sorry for her unhappy situation. Then suddenly came another letter from her. This was her last letter. She had written, “I wish to keep alive so that my love for you may live. But promise that you will never cross my path again ...” And she had mentioned a new turn her life had taken. She had mentioned about Kailash. I had felt relieved that her wanderings had at last found a berth.

Seeing Malti here after a whole year, has entangled me in a whirlpool of memories. Events of the past appear before my eyes – events which have given birth to a story of the story of Malti. But the end of this story ... ?

Dehradun is an unknown town for me. I have to assume charge of the Chief Director of the newly established Government Institute for Medical Research. Malti’s presence has brought me face to face with a conflict. Does Malti live here? The question puts my mind into serious predicaments.

The night has deepened. The air has become cold. Putting my overcoat, I come out of the room and go to the ground floor. The hotel compound is quiet and peaceful. Here and there young couples sit engrossed in each other. I order a cup of coffee and sit in a comer which is relatively quieter. The palms next to me put their curtain of shadow on me. My mind is still tossing around Malti’s words in her last letter...Promise that you will not cross my path again...The words increase my uneasiness.

“How pleasant is the atmosphere here.” These words from a familiar voice break the chain of my thoughts. From beyond the palms I hear again “My desire to settle in a peaceful place has at last been fulfilled.” The voice is unmistakably Malti’s. I sit up. After a few minutes I hear a second voice. “I have been offered the second position though I was confident that I would be selected for the first. I believe Dr. Rajiv of Lucknow who is considered an authority in the field of medical research has been offered the first position.” I curse events which have again brought me into a maelstrom. “Why have you suddenly become quiet?” The second voice asks. “Let’s go to our room,” Malti says, “It is becoming very chilly here.” And the two walk past me... Malti and Kailash.

I am in the clutches of confused thoughts. Every word of Malti’s last letter stands out in my mind. Along with them stand in bold relief the words I wrote in Malti’s diary “Don’t allow your future to be massacred by the misfortunes of the past. Be brave. A guiding star is bound to appear in your sky...” I am feeling that Malti has understood the significance of life and has tried to rebuild it. That this rebuilt life should shatter because of me, I will not tolerate. It will never happen ...

It is past midnight. I have just written a letter to the Director General of the Medical Research Institute. It says that on account of certain personal reasons I am unable to accept the assignment. Even without knowing anything about Kailash, I recommend him for the post.

A big load is off my mind. My tangled thoughts are at last at rest. I get busy gathering my things. The morning train will take me back to Lucknow....

To kill the chill of the December night, I throw myself into the bed and get under the quilt. Soon sleep will shut my eyelids. Heart’s hungers will subside. Heartburns will hurt no more......

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