When the Crows Sang | Ananya Sarkar

          The first thing that Padma heard each day when she woke up from sleep was the caw of crows. It was quite startling at the beginning, when she had just moved from the village of Sajnekhali to Kolkata. In Sajnekhali, it was the chirping of sparrows and pigeons that greeted the ear. Sometimes, a reaper’s song floated into the air, lilting in its rustic lyrics. Near eight o’ clock, the gossip and laughter of children could be heard as they made their way to school on bicycle or on foot. “Tring! Tri-i-i-i-ing!” the cycle bells would sound from time to time. Even if one lay in bed, these mellifluous sounds would automatically brighten the day. The whole world would seem to be awake and in harmony. Oh, how Padma loved it!

           But the city, where she had migrated to work as a charwoman, was so different. The raucous din of crows, along with the sound of traffic, was what marked the beginning of the day. On her way to the grocery market, Padma would search for sparrows. She spotted a few, here and there. But they were so less in number that they failed to be audible enough in the wee hours of the morning. It were the crows that dominated the scene.
          Though Padma did not like the noisy grocery shops and the haggling that customers went into, she looked forward to it only in one respect – Jiten. Jiten was the fruit seller who sat just outside the market. When Padma had to buy ripe guavas for Mrs Sen’s mother-in-law or peaches to prepare the children’s custard, Jiten would always be helpful in enabling her to choose the best fruits. Not only that, he would speak to her politely with an amicable disposition, something that most shopkeepers reserved only for the elite dadas and didis. He was courteous towards her and coming from a person of the opposite sex, such behaviour made her feel special. She felt important in being treated with respect and considered him a gentleman.
              While Padma passed by the shop, if Jiten was not occupied with customers, he would greet her, “Good Morning! Hope everything is fine. Want to buy some luscious mangoes? They’re as sweet as sugar, believe me!” At the beginning, she would be taken aback, and partly abashed, would reply hesitantly, “No thank you. Mrs. Sen does not need any mangoes now. When required, I shall certainly come.” Jiten would nod knowingly, smiling, looking at her in the eye. And Padma would crimson, not knowing where to look.
               And then, it happened! What Padma had feared the most came true. One day, on the way to the grocery market, she saw a young woman clad in a sari seated next to Jiten. She had vermilion streaked in the parting of her hair and wore the bangles made of conch shell, pala and iron – the signs of being married among Bengali women. The woman was helping Jiten in putting the fruits in order. Though there were no customers this time, Jiten did not even look in Padma’ direction. He appeared busy in jotting certain things in his pocket notebook.
              Had he noticed her from afar and was now playing innocent, Padma wondered. He could not have possibly got married overnight. That meant that he must have been a married man already, with a wife in the village. Then, why did he pay special attention to Padma? Was it mild flirtation? But, on the other hand, who knew whether it was attention of any kind at all? Perhaps he was friendly towards everyone in general and she had perceived it in a different light only because she wanted to.
            It only made Padma brood and was a distraction in her daily chores. She received a chiding at work from Mrs Das for overheating the milk, did not immediately remember to collect the clothes hung out on the terrace when it started to rain and accidentally cut her finger while chopping onion, immersed in the thoughts of the fruit seller.
           But this was not the first time that she was facing dejection in matters of the heart. She remembered how Bhojohori or Bhoju, who drove trucks for a consumer products company, had courted her in the village a couple of years back. She was then fifteen, and most of her friends had already been married. She, of course, could not tread the same path due to the lack of means. She could not pay a rich dowry, as her only parent – her mother – did not have the means. Both she and her mother were daily wage labourers at the rubber factory. What they earned was meagre, enough to make both ends meet and save some amount for the rainy days. But it was a negligible amount when compared to the gold ornaments which were customary in a wedding, the expensive furniture that grooms’ families generally demanded and of course, the dowry worth nearly a lakh.
             Hence, when Bhoju showed interest in her, she thought her fate had finally taken a turn. From buying flowers and sweetmeats to kissing her bosom in the dark, he was a romantic. She had pinned her hopes high, waiting for the day when he would propose marriage. Surely, he would not care for all the money, of which she was bereft, as he loved her. There would not be a single day when they wouldn’t meet.
             Then, suddenly, Bhoju was not seen for many days. A different truck driver replaced him. When Padma inquired where he was, he replied he had taken a few days’ leave.  She had fretted for him at that time, fearing about his health. However, when almost a month had passed without any sign of Bhoju, she went at the tea stall where he used to gossip with other truck drivers of the same route between trips.
             “Hello. I had come to ask about Bhoju. Do any of you know what’s happened to him? He has been on leave for quite some time I believe,” she mustered. In return, a couple of drivers replied that he had got married and left the business of driving trucks altogether. “Heard he’s gone to Delhi to become a taxi-driver – there’s more money there!” Someone had smirked, and she knew that they were aware of how she had been cheated. Ashamed and hurt to the core, she had hurried home and thrown the trinkets that he had gifted into the pond, vowing never to entertain illusions again.
            Yet, how unwittingly had she been drawn to the road again, Padma pondered as she washed the utensils. Anyway, I need to pull it together, she told herself. She had come to the city to earn big, so as to foster a better living for her mother and herself. The purpose of making matches had not brought her here. So how did it matter whether Jiten was married or not, and whether he wanted her? Or any other man, for that matter? She only had to wash off the unpleasant memories, very much like the grease that she was scrubbing off the utensils right now.     
             The next day when Padma went to the market, she had steadied herself. Mrs Das had asked her to buy a few guavas, due to which she had to go to Jiten’s shop. She kept her face passive, her voice even as she asked the price of the fruit. Nevertheless, Padma could not help notice Jiten turn towards her with an expectant look and try to make conversation. She, however, politely kept her distance. Let him choose someone else to flirt with! She was not going to be the fool anymore.
             As she made her way home, Padma felt a certain pride in being able to live up to her dignity. She had thankfully been able to save herself from another regrettable affair. Smiling to herself, Padma had just turned the bend when she heard the close thud of footsteps behind her. The person was obviously in a hurry. She moved aside to let him or her pass.
            “Hello!” said a voice and she looked up to find it was Jiten! In spite of herself, her heart gave a small leap. She did not know how to react. “Yes,” she answered in a small voice.
“Listen…I noticed that you were a little cold with me today.”
“Cold? Why no, its just that I’m not feeling too well today.”
“Well…I just wanted to tell you something. The woman sitting in my shop since yesterday is my younger sister, who is married. She has come home for a few days and insisted on coming to my shop and helping me. I couldn’t refuse as that could have possibly offended her, you know… her own brother making protestations of her presence in his shop. However, I have been somewhat self-conscious since she’s been there. For instance, I could not greet you when you passed yesterday. But today, when you came to my shop as a customer, I mustered the courage to talk to you openly. Look…” he caught his breath, “I’m really sorry if it seemed otherwise.”
“That’s okay,” she replied, relief coursing her heart. So this was the case as it actually stood!
“And…there’s been something I’ve been wanting to tell you lately. I…I really like you. No!” He shut his eyes and vigorously shook his head, “I… love you actually. You are such a sweet natured, polite person…Would you…would you marry me?”
            Padma looked at him directly. He was speaking earnestly. But she couldn’t believe her ears! Was this a dream?! Unwittingly, she broke into a smile and exclaimed.
            “Is that a yes, Padma? You know, I am really waiting to introduce you to my parents and sister, now that she has come to visit. But this is not an imposition…I merely wanted to know how you felt about me.”
            Padma’s eyes glistened. “Yes,” she replied with difficulty, “I love you too and would love to be your wife.”
            Jiten took her hand in his and smiled tenderly, “You’ve no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

                                                                      ***

             The next morning when Padma stirred herself from sleep, the crows were cawing again. But to her, it was no longer harsh and raucous. In fact, it was as if the crows were singing, welcoming the dawn of a new beginning.
                                                                      ***

Indian Review | Author Profile | Ananya Sarkar |
Apart from her fulltime job as editor, Ananya Sarkar is a freelance short story writer, reviewer and poet of sorts. Her work has been published in The Times of India, Woman’s Era, New Woman, 4indianwoman, Children’s World, Muse India, Induswomanwriting, Conversations Across Borders and Indian Ruminations. Ananya won the first prize in the Story Writing Contest organised by the American Library as part of the Fiction Festival, 2008 and was shortlisted for the Pomegranate Short Story Competition, 2011. In 2012, she secured the second position in the LoudReview Review Writing Competition and first position in the Induswomanwriting Poetry Contest. She has also interviewed writers such as C.Y.Gopinath, Swapna Dutta and Kavita Kane, and accessibility consultant Shivani Gupta.

 

Photo credits : Fethi Etem : https://fetem.wordpress.com/page/2/

Indian Review | Author Profile | Ananya Sarkar |Apart from her fulltime job as editor, Ananya Sarkar is a freelance short story writer, reviewer and poet of sorts. Her work has been published in The Times of India, Woman’s Era, New Woman, 4indianwoman, Children’s World, Muse India, Induswomanwriting, Conversations Across Borders and Indian Ruminations.