TRANSLATED FROM THE BENGALI BY SUKTI SARKAR

 

Alexander stood at the four-point crossing.

It was his job to keep standing. From morning till noon-late-afternoon-evening, he roamed about to return to this place. The whole day he had to keep vigil on his empire. In between, his only leisure was to stand in front of the confectionery– Ma Shitala Sweet Shoppe.

This was his empire but he must exercise sympathy for his subjects. A crowd walked past him on all four sides. Alexander kept an eye on them, observing them intently. In the morning, many have the black glass windows of their cars rolled down. Well-shaved, fair complexioned youths’ faces shine with a bluish glow, one look confirms their bodies are gym toned. Though the odour doesn’t reach him, he knows the colognes are expensive. Surely, the men in his kingdom are quite happy.

Groups of girls in snug jeans, tops, leggings walk past. The girls plumping up every day, their wheatish skins aglow, indicating that the women in his empire must be quite happy too.

Alexander did not mind if the nazrana of kanchagolla and khasta kachori from Ma Shitala Mishtanna Bhandar failed to show. The subjects were likely to make mistakes at times. An emperor had to keep his cool. He straightaway rummaged around in the plastic drum. Sometimes there were half eaten sweets wrapped in Sal leaves. Once upon a time, he had heard the adage, the best of the kings is he who dines with his subjects in the same row. The people of his empire were his offspring, a father shouldn’t hesitate to consume food half eaten by his children. Alexander never flouted rules.

Every late afternoon, a stranger, who he had seen for the last forty years, without knowing his name, handed him a bidi, as a mark of respect. Alexander was absolutely confident that his people respected him a lot.

At times, quite a few young boys from local areas stopped their bikes in front of him. They saluted as they looked at him and handed over a ten rupee note. This handing over of the note carried no mark of respect. Alexander sensed the boys would taunt and laugh at him a while later. The boys, however, believed that paying a visit to Alexander before leaving for any big operation would bring them success.

Alexander accepted the money, otherwise the habit of his people to pay him nazrana might be ruined. A habit takes time to grow. But in his mind, he just couldn’t tolerate the boys. They were about to become prominent hooligans of his empire. They would threaten, reprimand or even murder people.

But Alexander, as of now, still maintained silence. He wished to watch how far they could go. In time, their wings would be clipped if they soared too high.

At the thought of clipping the wings, Alexander remembered Pearl Mansion on the opposite side. On the verandah of the front side second floor flat, a parrot sat inside a cage. Its wings were clipped.

From the Pearl Mansion to the clipped-wing parrot on the verandah, all of it was Alexander’s property. An Emperor’s wealth could grow by a simple and easy method. The adage “water level rises when it rains” has no substitute. Every year more and more of wealth got added to Alexander’s riches. At times, the burden became unbearable. But nothing could be done. His wealth grew quite unknowingly and added on to the initial amount. For example, even a few years ago the shadow elements involved were not accounted for.

Alexander was aware of quite a few “shadows” present in his empire. All of them were women, reticent and generous.

But one particular shadow that appeared a few years ago was quite different. It played a game of light and darkness with the sharpness of a razor’s edge. Its direction and expanse changed every hour. Alexander stalked the shadow of the flyover. The smell of concrete clung to the shadow, particularly in summer.

Actually, his people had built this gigantic canopy for him watching him suffer in the sun. Alexander allowed them to drive their cars and speed off along the flyover. But at times he was in doubt. His people were devoted to him and lived in peace and happiness. He was yet undecided if their happiness was because of devotion or if their devotion arose out of happiness.

Alexander didn’t consider Puru a big threat yet. He kept vigil on Puru from afar. He came to know that every day one or two people joined Puru’s side. The auto-rickshaw drivers and tea-shop owners were his trusted informers. Alexander never rode an auto-rickshaw but often stood at the auto-stand listening to their conversation. These days, they were heard talking about Puru.

But Alexander still did not consider him a big threat. Though everyday he learnt sensational facts about Puru. Puru’s works and activities were much like rats. Rats cannot be a big threat, Alexander’s father and grandfather used to say.

Alexander’s father had a bloody relationship with Manu goonda, but that was an open secret. The two of them used to meet in a field in Babudanga. They fought a lot, got issues solved on a daily basis. One of them lost while the other won.

Puru’s work and activities were quite erratic. He had his own strategist. There was hearsay that Puru prepared his action plan well in advance. The moment Alexander heard this he thought Puru was a rat. In time Puru’s wings would be clipped though he paused as he thought this. Because a rat has no wings.

One day he was in a conversation with Seleucus about Puru’s world. Seleucus was a petty landowner in a small area not at all comparable with Alexander.

The evening lights came on over the flyover. People were on their way home at the end of the day. Alexander felt immensely satisfied as he looked at them.

“Seleucus, how many people are with Puru?”

“More people have sided with him than meets the eye.”

“Why do so many people move over to him day after day?”

“Fear…I mean, there’s nothing to fear Puru but even then, people fear him. That’s his biggest strategy.”

“Were all of you high on weed when Puru was expanding his territory, a little at a time, on the outskirts of the city?”

“I swear, Alexander, we had no inkling of it. This was just like a termite hill growing at the root of a tree before anyone could realize.”

“You had no man power to smash the termite hill! At this age, do I have to join hands to exterminate the rats?”

“We have men but Puru has, meanwhile, spread a rumor in the marketplace that poisonous snakes live inside the termite hills – any attempt to destroy them would lead to death.”

“Have the members of our snake charmer brigade vanished into thin air?”

“Indeed, vanished into thin air…. every day one or two snake charmers have simply disappeared. No one knows where they’ve gone. They say Puru has got rid of them.”

Looking at his people Alexander felt sad. He needed to talk to Puru soon. That meant, the heights Puru had reached, it was essential to clip his wings. But before that he intended to pardon Puru one more time.

Puru was sitting on a large quilted chair, his face rat-like. Meanwhile, streets and lanes had been named after him. Alexander noticed it on his way there. Puru had grown big secretly. One of the sleeves of Alexander’s full shirt swayed in the air.

This area was named Purukshetra in imitation of the Kurukshetra.

From the very beginning Alexander preferred to talk straight.

“What treatment do you expect from me?”

Puru raised his eyes from the mobile screen, “What kind of treatment do you expect from me?” Puru retorted.

“It’s on you to decide how to behave but I have come to forgive you. Because tolerance and forgiveness are the best virtues.”

“Fuck your forgiveness….,” Puru flared up. He flung the mobile phone and hurled abuses, “Listen to me, all these days we were taught the wrong version of history…. no one was able to bring Puru in ropes in front of Alexander. The truth is, it was Alexander who was forcibly taken to meet Puru. Puru had a large palm, he had hit hard to permanently distort Alexander’s face….,” Puru growled in anger.

It was time to face him eye to eye and counter him with a question,

“That’s fine, but after that there was no trace of Puru. The loss of such a famous king ought to immortalize him in history….”

“Why? Is it your mother’s lover sitting before you? It’s me who carries the legacy of Puru…”

Alexander’s case was on trial at Puru’s court. All cases at Puru’s court were tried under the Blasphemy Act. Parts of the body were ordered to be cut off according to the kind of crime committed. The trial court recommended one of Alexander’s hands to be cut off.

The left sleeve of Alexander’s full shirt fluttered in the air. The hand was missing from the sleeve. A long time back he had suffered the blow of a chopper while trying to save his father from Manu goonda.

After the verdict was announced, Puru took a look at Alexander. Someone had chopped off his left hand straight from the armpit. The shirt sleeve fluttered in the air.

Looking at one-handed Alexander, Puru could see himself. He realized how, day after day, he was kept alive in a myth, a lie. Though kept alive, this existence was really obscene and hateful. A vanquished king demanding honor as an equal from a king who emerged the victor! For days he was forced to live in the benevolence of Alexander’s forgiveness.

But, in reality, the situation wasn’t like that at all. It was Alexander who had lost the battle. Puru had delivered a kick on his testicles and ordered him to leave the borders of his country. Alexander had followed every word of the order. But soon after, a Greek myth was constructed to pale the glory of the Indian king.

A story cannot reach far without a myth. A golden opportunity had arrived to break the myth and build a new one.

Puru looked at Alexander’s severed hand and said, “I will punish you and cut off your left hand….” Silence prevailed in Puru’s court. A while later, Puru himself broke the silence.

“I will chop off your severed hand once again…, which means, I could have chopped off your right hand but will cut your left hand instead….”

A halo appeared around Puru’s head. Alexander lifted his face, looked at Puru as though he too had something to say.

“As for me, the left hand is as good as the right….my left hand, though invisible, is well in place. No one other than me can comprehend the presence of my left hand.”

“I don’t like riddles…tell me in clear terms…”

“There was gangrene after Manu goonda attacked me with a chopper. It had to be amputated. But after some days I sensed, though cut off, it did exist… It was strange when I realized this for the first time. My mother was still around. One night she was affectionately stroking the body of her one-handed son. Suddenly my mother’s hand touched my face and I could feel Ma taking me to the Rathayatra fair clutching my left thumb…. I could clearly sense her grip on my thumb…”

“What does the doctor say?”

“Doctor said, though my hand was amputated, some nerves have remained … and that’s why, for me the left hand still exists – I mean, though non-existent, it’s there.”

“Even if that’s the case, I will not sever your right hand. Though there’s an opportunity to chop your right hand off, I would rather hack your amputated left hand once again to render you vanquished forever.”

“The sensations are the same in my left and right hand. Once the invisible left hand was scalded by a burning cigarette…hurt me for three whole days….”

“Still, I would chop off your left hand….”

Alexander’s left hand was kept on a machan beside a canal that was almost dry. The left hand was one of the sleeves of a full shirt. A man with a cut on his brow held a brightly shining knife that was shoved deep into the invisible left hand a little below the elbow.

Not a drop of blood was shed but Alexander let out a scream and fainted.

When he regained consciousness, he pressed his right hand on the elbow of the invisible left and returned to the four-point crossing near the overbridge. Even this late at night, totos came rushing from all four sides of the crossing. The announcer’s voice had gone hoarse as he repeatedly trilled, “Though Alexander had his right hand intact, Puru has set an unprecedented example today by chopping off Alexander’s already amputated left hand as a symbolic punishment. From now onwards, a particular portion of the textbooks will be read and taught with “Alexander” replaced by “Puru.”

The frosted glass panes of the windows of Pearl Mansion glittered with a mysterious flash of light all through the night. At this hour of the night the clipped winged parrot must be drowsy in its cage on the second-floor verandah.

Alexander tried to recollect each individual whose wings he wished to clip when time was ripe. There were a few hazy faces, but it was no longer possible for him to clip their wings.

Because at the first chance, Puru had once again amputated his already severed left hand.

And that was why, at midnight, One-handed Alexander left behind the serpentine overbridge, the riddle that the four-point crossing was and began to prepare to quit his empire.

 

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Also, read a creative non-fiction piece telling the story of a dog, written by Parimal Bhattacharya, translated to English by Bisnhnupriya Chowdhuri, and published in The Antonym. 

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