THE PHOTOGRAPH

(A Short story)

K. T. NARASIMHACHAR

Jaipal felt cornered. For a long time he had avoided giving a definite answer to his father. Sudershan. Now he realised he could not evade the old man’s importunity any longer.

They were both seated in Jaipal’s room which was simply furnished with a table and a couple of chairs. A book-case filled with books stood on one side while by the opposite wall was a cot with a rolled up bed. There were a few photographs adorning the room. An enlargement of a girl’s profile gazed down from the wall on to the table.

“Tell me, my boy” said Jaipal’s father in a tone almost imploring, “have’nt I waited long enough for your answer? Everytime you have put me off with some reason or other.”

Jaipal remained silent.

“Look here, Jaipal,” continued Sudershan, suddenly sitting bolt upright, “here I am, an old man of sixty, with none but you to continue our family. I have wealth, position, an honoured name in society but it looks as if all these have to end for me because of an obstinate son!” The old man groand his teeth in anger and covering his face with his hands, groaned as he leaned back in his chair.

“Forgive me, father,” pleaded Jaipal, “if I have seemed to disregard your words....”

“Disregard?” burst out Sudershan, “You have’nt cared a bit for my feelings .........nor for my one and only desire before I die! ........ Damnation take my soul for having begotten a son like you!”

“Bear with me, father,” continued Jaipal as he went and sat at the feet of the old man on the ground, “I.....I.....”

“Yes, go on” interrupted Sudershan without looking at Jaipal.

“I am just recovering from the shock of my wife’s death.....It has been too much for me.......But I have realised Vimala will never come back to me!”

“All the more reason, my son, why you should think of someone to take her place in your life soon. I am glad after all you want to respect my feelings,” went on the old man. cooling down and peering into Jaipal’s face, “I am so glad you will marry again. My boy, I’ve known what it is to lose a wife when young. For there was no one to fill your dear mother’s place in my heart when she passed away leaving you as her most precious gift to me!” Sudershan lifted up Jaipal and drawing him closer hugged him fondly to his breast.

“Father,” protested Jaipal, “I have always tried to be a loving and obedient son to you.”

“I know it, my lad, but your silence in this matter pained me much, God knows. I shall give you some good news, Jaipal. During the last few months I have been receiving many offers for your marriage.”

“I don’t care, father, whom you choose for my bride, so long as she is worthy of being your daughter-in-law.”

“You are making a great mistake, Jaipal,” explained his father,” if you should think I wish to select your would-be-wife! Honestly, between you and me, there are only half a dozen offers worth considering.”

“Father, I shall accept any girl you choose” answered Jaipal with feeling, “I shall marry again only to please you not because I am anxious to taste the sweets of wedded life again. The memory of the two years I spent with my beloved Vimala will be ever radiant to me. She is gone and with her the light of my life!”

“My son, my son, you don’t know how your words hurt me. You are still young, Jaipal. Life calls to you with all its joyous urge and the desire to see you happy again burns strongly in this old heart of mine.”

“I know, father, it is your great love for me that makes you seek out a second bride for me. I don’t care who she is.”

“Don’t say so, Jaipal” retorted Sudershan. “You are’nt being fair to me if you think I want to force any girl on you willy-nilly! I shall write and get the photos of the most desirable girls. Or if you have any girl in view, I give you my word of honour, she shall become your wife whoever she may be!” Sudershan then left Jaipal.

II

The moment Sudershan’s back was turned, Jaipal regretted his promise to his father that he would marry again. He had loved Vimala too deeply to think of anyone else taking her place in his heart. For it was one of those rare occurrences in Indian life-a love marriage–which begin in love and find their fulfilment in love. Jaipal had met Vimala at a garden party and had fallen in love with her at first sight, finding instant response from her. And what was more, he had obtained Sudershan’s consent to marry her. The happiness of Jaipal and Vimala had been all too short and her death had left him desolate. Jaipal wondered how he had agreed to marry again when every moment his thoughts were of his beloved who was no more. It was too late now to think how it had happened.....he had to keep his word to his father inviolate his love for Vimala must show him a way out of the quandary!

III

A month had passed by. Jaipal’s father had collected quite a bevy of beauties during that interval, all whose portraits he had carefully preserved in an album. Everyday the old man had awaited the arrival of the postman with excitement. The day on which there was no letter or parcel, he hardly seemed to be interested in anything.

IV

It was a beautiful evening. The full moon had just risen in the East in a glow of golden glory.

Jaipal had fasted that day. He had not gone out for his usual evening walk. There was a light in his room and the door was ajar. He was reading a volume of love poems. There was a knock at his door. Jaipal was so immersed in the book that he did not seem to hear the tap. Finding the door partly open, Sudershan entered the room.

“Jaipal, my son,” said his father as he seated himself on a chair, “what’s the matter with you today? You have’nt had your lunch, you have missed your evening walk even!”

“A bad headache, father,” answered Jaipal, “has kept me to my room since morning. Fasting, I thought, is the best cure for it. I’m feeling much better now, father.”

“Come, my boy, we shall go and have our dinner. And then,” continued Sudershan, his eyes lighting up with a twinkle, “we shall discuss something that is dear to your heart and mine.”

“Rather too early for dinner...is’nt it, father? But if you...” Jaipal stopped abruptly leaving his sentence unfinished.

“Just as you think, my son,” replied Sudershan, “our dinner can be taken later. Come with me. I want to show you something that will be like balm to your broken heart.”

Silently and without a murmur Jaipal followed Sudershan. Jaipal’s soul was in agony. He knew the hour of his trial had come.

V

Jaipal and his father reached the latter’s room.

“Sit down, Jaipal,” said the old man motioning him to a chair and seating himself on an easy chair, “the other day about a month ago when you gave your consent to marry again, my joy knew no bounds. Really, Jaipal, it seemed to me that I had found a lost heaven! I know, my son, how deeply you loved Vimala. Grief in its freshness is sharp like a dagger, Jaipal, but time blunts its edge! What right have you to be unhappy or drive me to misery? I have collected the photographs of about a score of girls from among whom you can select a bride.” And the old man clapped his hands and chuckled in glee.

Getting up he opened a cabinet from which he took out an album containing a large number of photographs. Then he leaned them one by one against the wall on the table. There were girls in old-fashioned costumes wearing heavy ornaments of uncouth size.....girls in university gowns with all the glamour of graduation day.....girls with bobbed hair wearing sleeveless blouses.

The old man took elaborate pains to arrange them all in what seemed to him the most attractive position on the table. He would place one portrait near another for a few seconds and view it; then remove it and place it next to some other and see the new arrangement from a distance. It was sometime before he had exhausted all permutations and combinations but ultimately a smile of satisfaction lit up his face. Jaipal, however, did not show the least sign of being interested in his father’s anxiety to evoke his attraction towards the photographs. He sat still, watching these specimens of beauty, fashion and adornment.

“Come here, Jaipal,” Sudershan beckoned to him, “and have a look at these gills. Come,” he continued taking hold of Jaipal’s hands and drawing him nearer to the portraits, “a regular bevy of beauties, is’nt it? Make your own selection, my boy. I have given you my word–she whom you choose shall become my daughter-in-law!”

Jaipal gave a cursory glance at all the photographs. Towards two or three of them he seemed to be a trifle more drawn than towards the rest. But there was not one in the entire lot that he cared to take up and see interestedly.

“Why, Jaipal, what’s the matter?” asked his father, “Rather difficult for you to make a choice?”

Sudershan’s question was not unwarranted. For there were three or four girls who seemed to be paragons of beauty, each a type of her own. Jaipal hesitated to give an answer.

“Don’t worry, Jaipal,” pursued his father, “I shall send for such of them as you desire. You can see them in flesh and blood and select your bride.”

“No, Sir, there’s no need. But....”

“What!” interjected Sudershan, “Hesitating again to marry?”

“No, father,” replied Jaipal, “I shall not go back on my word. But none of these strike my fancy. I have selected the girl I should like to marry. May 1 show you her portrait?”

“Most gladly, my son. Ah, I see,” continued Sudershan smiling, “you have’nt let the grass grow under your feet all this month. If she be more beautiful than all these, my congratulations on your selection!”

“I am grateful to you, father,” rejoined Jaipal, “for letting me have my way. But I want your promise finally that you will let me have my choice.”

“Still doubting, my son? She whom you have chosen shall be my daughter-in-law–you can count upon it! Tell me, who is she, Jaipal?”

“I shall fetch her photograph, Sir. You may then judge for yourself if I have made a proper selection.” With these words Jaipal left the room and his father in a state of excited curiosity.

Jaipal was back again in a minute.

“Father, here is she whom I would like to make my life-long partner.”

Saying so Jaipal placed in his father’s hands a portrait of a girl. Sudershan looked at the picture and at Jaipal. He was stunned and speechless for a moment.....a groan escaped his lips and tears trickled down his faded face.

“Oh, my boy, my boy!” he moaned, drawing Jaipal closer to him. He looked at the photograph again and laid it on the table. It was a portrait of Jaipal’s dead wife, Vimala.

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