translation by Sanjukta Dasgupta

PREPARATION

The small and quiet village of Tarapasha stood alongside the bank of the river Padma. In the surrounding area there stood Haldia, Shologhar, Srinagar, Shimulia and Dighali. Evening was fast approaching. It was the mid-winter season. It became cold as the shades of the afternoon closed in.

As soon as it was morning there seemed to be a festive spirit pervading the entire village. The huge earthen oven on the northern side of Rahima?a mopped courtyard hadn't been lit that afternoon. Where was the time for her to boil dhan today? She hadn't been able to oil her daughter Sufia's hair for quite sometime now. Not hair, but jute strands. At first Rahima poured some half frozen whitish coconut oil right in the middle of her daughter's head. Then with the palm of her right hand she began slapping in the oil with up and down movements, thereby letting it spread all over her hair. She thought if only some of this very cool oil could be forced inside the head! She had heard that coconut oil could be used to keep the head cool- it purified the soul. At this time- when the village was going through a serious crisis it was necessary to keep both mind and body as cool as possible. So that no evil thoughts could hold sway over Sufia's mind.

Rahima poured some more oil on her daughter's head. Then for a long time she kept on combing Sufia's hair with great care. She tied Sufia's hair into two plaits, she folded each plait into two and then tied it with a red ribbon. Parents had become very attentive to their daughters that evening after the misfortune and fall of one of the girls of the village. Rahima would perform namaz and then with other women of the neighbourhood she would proceed towards Saleha's house.

There were a whole lot of people outside the door of Saleha?s house. On the mattress spread in the courtyard sat the old, middle-aged, youth and children. Seeing this, one felt that not only were the people of the villiage there, but people from other villages had come there too. All of them seemed to be chatting up some one or the other. Some were even smoking hookahs in the midst of it all. Some were chewing paan. Some held lighted bidis between fingers.

Saleha was sitting quietly in the room. The women of the neighbourhood were all around her. Saleha wasn?t speaking to any of them. She was wearing a green cotton sari. Her long black hair had been pulled and combed backwards and tied into a tight bun.

After Maghrib's namaz was over, the court would assemble. Akamal Mollah's vision was no longer that good. He wrapped himself carefully in his old khaddar shawl. He went along to join the meeting today, holding on to the shoulder of his grandson, thumping the ground with his stick as he went past Rahmat?s cowshed. Some ten or twelve men and women were also advancing towards the direction of the meeting place finding their way through the huge field next to the sandy pond and the columns of tal trees and avoiding the immense gorge behind the kitchen of Gopal?s cattle shack. It seemed as if no one would be staying at home today.

Everyone would participate in deciding upon Saleha?s fate. Some seven or eight people were walking in single file from the western side along the kalai field of Kalu Sheikh.

Some of them were carrying torch lights in their hands, while the others were carrying unlit hurricanes. Carrying these was in anticipation of their return trip in the darkness of the night. All roads led to Saleha's house. The old village Kazi arrived last of all. Also the city educated Imam of the masjid was there too. The Moulavi of the madrasa came along as well. Then came the younger Sahib of the Chowdhury family, the eldest Sahib was crippled by a paralytic stroke. The younger Sahib was now the overseer of the village. Ultimately, Kasem Mollah arrived followed by his only son Sobhan, who hung down his head. One could see that Sohaban was finding it painful to walk. Bending somewhat, pulling in his underbelly, leaning forward with his chest and dragging his right foot, Sobhan reached Saleha?s courtyard. It was from this place last week that bloodied Sobhan had yelled out in the dark night and run off.

Everyone sat around the courtyard. There was even a person from a newspaper. Old father Kasem had brought along a broad stool with him. He put it down in one corner of the courtyard. Then he wrung his hands imploringly as he prayed for permission from those assembled that his wounded son should be allowed to sit on the stool, as it would be too painful for him to sit on the floor. After Imam Saheb and Chowdhury Saheb exchanged looks and approved Kasem's request, Sobhan slowly sat down on the stool. As he sat down he had to hold firmly the crumpled part of his lungi between his thighs. Sobhan bit his own lower lip with his teeth very hard. Various kinds of noise and conversation rose out of the assembly of people gathered in the courtyard. Sohaban sat there with his head lowered.

In the meantime evening had set in. The businessman Karim of Dighali market had brought petromax tubes from his shop, having lighted one he was pumping the kerosene can attached to the petromax tube to light a second one. So many people were there in that courtyard wrapped in shawls. On one side of the courtyard stood a gaya and a jambura tree, while on the other side stood two thatched rooms, in the bright light of the petromax all of it- the entire surroundings seemed unknown and unreal.

THE TRIAL

The door to Saleha?s home that was never shut to those who remained awake, the door which was always wide declined to be intimate with him did he say he?d cause you distress by talking to people about your goings on?

Saleha: No.

Imam: Then why did you do such a thing?

Saleha: ( silent)

Imam: Did you fear that he'd leave you in the same state that he did when he went off to the town the first time?

Saleha: No. Three years ago I hadn't known a lot of things. I was a fool then. That's why I got into trouble. Now I know what to do. I am not scared any more.

In the courtyard and the room there was a chorus of voices. Kazi Sahib got up from the bench and made an exit behind the room. Moulvi Sahib chanted Nauzubillah, Nauzubillah? as he held on to the sides of his cap and straightened it on his head by pulling it down on either side of his ears. Rahima became busy trying to escort Sufia to the opposite side of the room. She kept on blaming herself for bringing her daughter along.

Imam: Why did you do this? When Sobhan used to touch you did you dislike it very much?

Saleha: No, I didn?t dislike it. I quite liked it. Most of the time I liked it very much.
Again "Astag Ferullah" resonated from the chorus of voices.

All the women in the room had covered their faces with their . The Imam Sahib muttered to himself as he tried to purify himself from the putrid scum. His thin lips seemed to move uncontrollably.

Imam: Did you know that what you were doing was a sin? That you'd have to go to hell? Aren't you afraid of hell and damnation?

Saleha: Since I'll have to go to hell, what's the point in feeling afraid?

Imam: The man who had abandoned you and gone off to the city, leaving you in the lurch, weren?t you ashamed to have a relationship with him again? Weren't you repulsed?

Saleha: Yes I was. Then I understood that I would never get married. My life would be taking care of the cows and calf, cooking, boiling and other physical labour. And then to be kicked around by my mother all the time. Sobhaan Bhai liked me. He never scolded me. Whenever he came I liked it very much. Sobhan Bhai had given me a lot of pleasure. And that time when he went off to the city he hadn?t known about my problem.

It seemed uncertain whether the excitement of the people outside could be controlled any further. Some of them stood there and made various remarks. Even the women within the room were stunned and ashamed by the recklessness of the woman. Saleha?s mother kept on knocking her head on the floor. The women present veiled their faces carefully. Though there weren?t any men in the room. In order to purify himself Imam Sahib kept on murmuring the doa darud by himself. Saleha picked up her ears for the next question.

Imam: What did Sobhan do that day? Why did you become so crazy? Did he hit you? Did he scold you? Were you fighting with each other?

Saleha: No

Imam: Then?

Saleha kept quiet for a while. The words she had tried so desperately to suppress at last spilled out. Saleha said quietly, "I didn't feel like doing it that day."What? What did Saleha say? Everyone became all ears. All the villagers present wanted to hear what she had said. They could not hear clearly what she had said. Those who hadn?t heard, their eagerness was now intense.

Imam: Had you told him about how you felt?

Saleha: Yes, I had

Imam: What had he said?

Saleha: He couldn?t care less. He wanted to force me.

Imam: Did he behave like this before?

Saleha: Yes, he had done it last week. Though I didn?t want to do it, he forced me.

Imam: Then what did you do?

Saleha: I had spat on his lowered face.

Once again there was commotion among the assembled villagers. Mild excitement. Many vulgar and sarcastic comments.

Imam: What did he do then?

Saleha: He just wiped off the spittle and said when you are angry you look even more beautiful. Then he did what he wanted to do. This time I didn?t give him that chance.
The people outside had become impatient by now. Then hadn't yet heard the real reason behind Saleha's crime. Saleha had spoken those words in a low voice. The words hadn't reached the ears of those who were outside. At the request of the villagers the Imam Sahib instructed Saleha that she should state why she had done it, in a loud voice so that everyone could hear. Then Saleha pushed back the curtain and stepped outside. Standing there, facing everyone she said, "I did it because I hadn?t felt like doing it that evening and still he had forced me."

Not just Sobhan, nor Kasem Mollah, nor the newly married Imam of the Masjid or the old Kazi, or the Moulvi Sahib or Chowdhury Sahib, in front of the surprised eyes of the entire village folk Saleha stood erect in front of her door, illuminated by the light of the petromax lamp. It seemed as if she did not belong to that village at all. It seemed as if she was the image of a female deity of willpower incarnate or some ghost.

DESIRE SHOOTS FOR THE MOON

The very small and gentle word that Saleha had uttered gained rapid momentum. And then Saleha's desire, a cluster of close knit syllables seemed to flit over the whole village from one end to the other.

Desire then sat on the tree branch. Desire was on the rooftop. Desire was in the sky. Desire was in the air.

Desire was in the earth, water, slush and people.

Rabeya had decided today that she would not tie her hair. Letting loose her long hair spread over her back she was sitting silently in front of the door. It seemed darkness was seeping down into the earth as it crept down the steps of Rabeya's long and dark hair. Even with a near full moon the blue sky was unable to illuminate the deep darkness of the village of Tarapasha.

Ramtanu's young daughter would not be learning her tables tonight. For she was not drawn to figures and multiplication answers at the moment. She was chanting rhymes aloud. Zubeda would not cook today. Her husband and mother-in-law had gone to attend the trial. So she wanted to take it easy today. She wasn?t feeling like cooking. Tonight the Shefali and Gandharaj buds wouldn't blossom. In this frightful night, in this poisonous air, they weren?t willing to spread their white petals and their fragrance.

There would be no high or ebb tide in the river tonight. Because the moon did not feel like it. This was a decision she took in agreement with the river. Tomorrow it was day of the Bhai phota festival.Sisters would dot their brothers' foreheads with sandalwood paste moistened with "osh" as it was called, which meant the dew on the grass and on the leaves of gourds, that was collected for the ceremony. By observing the ritual all the dangers that a brother might meet would be taken care of. But even the dew had decided that it would not fall earthwards tonight. It seemed to sport around in space, over the mango tree branches, near the leaves of the Kurui tree or high above the open sky.

Even the journalist of the local newspaper seated at one corner of the courtyard now took a tough decision. For the past three days after a lot of thought he had recorded such facts about the district such as that in Haldia this time there were a whole lot of mango blossoms, that within Dudu Mia?s eggplant a holy Arabic word had been discovered, or that the local political leader?s so called child was not his biological offspring, all these to him at the moment seemed to have become pale and insignificant.

He resolved to write down through the night everything that happened there, of which he was an eyewitness. He would write nothing else.

So long the science teacher of the school Khalek Sarkar had known that the interior of the body had a strange lid that covered the windpipe during eating and covered the gullet while breathing.

Today he discovered with great surprise that there was another tough, flexible and weird lid that was located elsewhere in the body which he had so long known to be of open access always.

Khalek also knew that water maintained a downward movement. Though males due to their virility and the strange construction of their limbs were sometimes able to ignore this law of nature, but for females expulsion of bodily fluids was invariably in a downward movement. But with great surprise he noticed that this was not entirely true. It had been mentioned before that there was hardly anyone at home in the village that evening. Every male and female member of Khalek's house apart from his wife and himself were attending the trial. The intention behind Khalek?s not attending the trial was the overpowering desire that obsessed him, as there was no one at home. Despite Selima?s feminine refusal and denial, like a hero with unbridled virility, he desired to enter his own personal world' he had always known he had sole ownership and complete right over this world.

But then desire was trembling in each life cell, in the air of their bedroom, in the window, on the bed head, in the cotton of the mattress, on the pillow covers. Outside a cold breeze was blowing, there was a moon like a sickle in the sky, this uninterrupted leisure, the quietness within the room, everything taken together, Selima had a very different sort of expectation from the rare evening to-night. The nature of her desire had a different rhythm. Sitting side by side intimately with her husband, being gently caressed by him, she had thought she would be able to tell him her innermost thoughts without hesitation and fear. Khalek did not care to understand that. So therefore at the entrance gate he seemed to have come against a stone wall, that is he encountered the lid about which he had not known before. But when he didn?t stop then too, then defying the laws of physics about water a warm rush was sprinkled all over Khalek. First his thighs, underbelly, then chest and hands and then his face and head- all over.

SALEHA LIVED ON

Saleha was restlessly writhing in bed as she had a terrible pain all over her body as well as a headache. On her back, hands, legs, even on her face, there were black and red long thin marks of being beaten up. Her widowed mother dipped a piece of cloth in warm water and was gently wiping the strange marks. Then with her fingers she applied some shredded garlic and warm mustard oil on the marks. The parts of Saleha's back that had cracked open lengthwise, her mother had singed those parts with a flaming poultice. To prevent wounds from becoming septic such a cruel and agonizing preventive had to be made use of sometimes. Saleha had fever too. In order to apply a cold towel on her forehead Saleha?s mother was tearing off a piece of clean old cloth. In the mild light of the lamp, sitting at the corner of the cot, while she worked with both her hands the old woman kept on cursing her daughter- ? When you were two years old you had measles all over. Your body was all abscesses. I would then make you lie on banana leaves and apply potato paste on your body. O Allah, if you had only died then. You would have had peace?and so would I.

She rubbed her eyes with her sari-end and then said again, ?Now you have smeared choon kali on our family heritage. People are laughing at us. Such insult that you had to endure in front of the people of seven villages and yet you couldn't die, you burnt-faced one! Why didn't you have poison or why didn?t you just hang yourself with a rope?

Saleha opened her eyes. She had heard every syllable of what her mother had uttered. She didn't get angry. She smiled in silence. She said, "Why I didn't die, do you know Amma?"

No, I don't know. I don't want to know either. You don't have to be so funny. I know you'll say that I didn't want to die, that's why I am not dead. Or else you'll say I felt very sad about leaving you, Amma.

In great disgust her mother turned away her face. Saleha smiled again. She nodded her head from side to side.

No, dear Ma. I won't say either of what you said. Do you know why I didn't die? Every morning as I get up from sleep I have this hope that from tomorrow good days will come about. They don't come. Even then I don't know why it is that I desire to live on."