‘You naughty boy.’
‘I speak the truth. We merely pawned him to our travesties. But we did not realize that he would take it so seriously and accost you. I entreat you, please forgive him—else the three of us will suffer gravely.’
‘Since you speak earnestly, I shall not complain to the principal. However, in the bargain, the pandit should make amends by holding his ears in front of me and pleading for forgiveness twenty times, and besides, he should pay me a hundred rupees as damages for his misbehaviour.’
‘Lucy, don’t be so harsh. Only think about his feelings. How I wish that you were not so beautiful.’
Lucy smiled. ‘One could learn the art of flattery from you.’
‘Then let us go back. I will have the damages paid to you but the first part of your bargain is harsh. Very harsh indeed! The poor fellow will commit suicide! But yes, in lieu of him, I can plead for forgiveness fifty times.’
‘You are like a hard-boiled egg. You have no sense of shame. I would like to see him humbled. The villain tried to take hold of my hand!’
‘Won’t you show any mercy?’
‘Not even a bit!’
There was no alternative. Naim took Lucy to the boarding house. When the suggestion was put to Chakradhar, the wretched fellow was totally distraught. He fell at Lucy’s feet and began to cry uncontrollably. Naim and Girdhar too were shamefaced about their pranks. Lucy felt sorry for them. She forfeited the first part of her bargain. In regard to the penalty, Chakradhar sent home a telegram feigning ill health and requesting a sum of money. He paid off Lucy to bring an end to the whole matter.
After this incident, college was on for another week. But nobody saw Chakradhar smile even once! Most of the time the wretched man’s brow seemed clouded over with a cheerless and fretful expression. The mere mention of Lucy’s name was sufficient to unleash a wave of feral rage.
Filled with contrition, Naim and Girdhar swore never to crack practical jokes again.
That year, Chakradhar could not clear the examination. Nevertheless, he did not return to college. Apparently, he went to Aligarh.
Translated from the Urdu by Fatima Rizvi
The Malevolent Baby1
At long last, precisely that which had caused much apprehension came about—the very thing which had been bothering most members of the household, especially the woman who had just given birth. After three boys, a baby girl was born. The infant’s mother froze in the room of her lying-in, as did the father in the courtyard outside, and his ageing mother in the doorway. How unfortunate—how very unfortunate! Only God could tend to their well-being now! The infant was not a daughter, she was a demon. Was it necessary for the ill-fated wretch to be born in this household? If it had to be so, why wasn’t she born earlier? God forbid the birth of a malevolent baby, even in the household of the worst enemy!
The name of the infant’s father was Pandit Damodar Dutt; he was an educated man. He was employed in the education department. Nevertheless, how could he ignore the traditional belief, ingrained deep in his heart, that a girl child born subsequent to the third son is ill-fated, bringing about the death of either her father or her mother, or perhaps even herself. His aged mother began to drink water to rejuvenate herself and curse the newborn: ‘She is an ill-omened, black-faced child! I wonder what misfortune she will bring upon us. Had she been born to a barren woman, the mother would have felt blessed!’
Deep down in his heart, Damodar was also very concerned, but he explained to his mother, ‘Amma, there is no such thing as a malevolent baby. It is God’s will, which will be done. If He wills it, all will be well. Send for the professional women singers to sing joyous songs and celebrate or people will say that you were beside yourself with joy when the three sons were born but there is weeping and lamentation in the household because of the birth of a daughter.’
His mother responded, ‘Oh son! You don’t understand these things but I have suffered them first-hand; my own life is at its ebb. It was after the birth of a malevolent baby that your grandfather died. From then on, my heart has always sunk at the mere mention of the word.’
‘Is there anything one can do to avert this predicament?’
‘There are several ways, so to say, to resolve this quandary. If you ask the panditji, he will tell you about some solution or the other, but nothing will work. I had tried every remedy—the panditji became very rich but that which was destined did befall us. Now even the pandits are quite worthless; it no longer matters to them whether the person who pays for the performance of the sacrifice lives or not. All that matters is that they should be paid the fee for their services. (Softly.) The baby is not weak either. She is healthier than the three boys. She has big eyes, thin red lips, like the petals of a rose. She has a fair complexion, and a long tapered nose. The ill-omened child did not even cry when she was bathed; instead, she looked intently at everything around her. All these signs are not good.’
Damodar’s sons had sun-tanned complexions, and they were not very pleasant to look at. His heart filled with pleasure when he heard about the newborn child’s pretty looks. He said to his mother, ‘Ammaji, you should send for the women to sing and rejoice and leave the rest to God. Whatever is destined shall come to pass.’
‘My heart does not permit me to rejoice. What shall I do?’
‘Our troubles will not be warded off if we do not have the singing, or will they? If
