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Authors: Khushwant Singh

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There was not a trace of emotion in her voice, nor was there any reproach. She accepted him as he was and was prepared to do anything for him. It was not sacrifice, not devotion, not even love. It was simply the heart of a woman, with a strange complex of feelings, tinged with love as well as with jealousy. There was only one outward expression for this medley of feelings and that was the longing she felt for her man. Every fibre of her heart thirsted for that man. But she had no demands to make of him, ethical or moral. She did not mind if he was not true to her, even if he was cruel to her. She loved him as he was, with all his vagaries and pettiness and with his wild and untamed spirit. What did she derive from such a life with the dice so loaded against her? What was her compensation? Was not such a life unhappy and burdensome? But then what was happiness except the lack of a consciousness of the unhappiness? Was I happy judging by that standard?

The wind rose gradually. The boat moved faster. There were signs of the world waking up slowly from its rejuvenating slumber. Here and there peasants could be seen going to their fields. The morning star had not yet risen. Rangi drew her knees closer, folded her arms around them and sat looking into the fading night.

'He is my man. Wherever he goes, he is bound to return to me,' she said slowly, not particularly addressing me. These words summarised the one hope, the one strength, the one faith that kept her irrevocably linked with life. Her whole life revolved around that one point. There was pity, fear and above all reverence in my heart for that woman. How confusing, grotesque, terrifying, even insane, are the affairs of the human heart!

I sat looking at her till the day broke. Before I got off the boat, I put a rupee into her hand without being observed, and went away without waiting to see her reaction. I never met her again.

Translated by the
Author

Cloud Stealing

Malati Chendur

For three years the soil had not tasted a drop of rain. It was a town — a taluk headquarter renamed as
Mandala Kendra
. There are a lot of habitations in India where the land is not fortunate enough to receive even a drop of rain. There are several villages in Rajasthan where it does not rain for three to four years at a stretch. Scarcity of water is not a surprise and a small town not experiencing a shower is no rare phenomenon.

The inhabitants of this particular small town performed
Varuna
Yagya
in the fond hope that the Rain-God would heed their repeated requests. And they fervently prayed to the local goddess to have pity on them. They even invited talented singers from a neighbouring town to sing
Amruta Varshini Raga.
One devout musician in wet clothes played on the violin non-stop for forty-eight hours. As tradition would have it, they performed the marriage of frogs, fetching water from a distant place, as all the wells had become dry. Even the groundwater disappeared and the municipality, which looked after the civic needs of the people was in utter distress.

'Frogs would be countless if the tanks were full' — sang Poet Vemana. But the water-tanks in that town had become waterless long back. Even the mud at the bottom had become dry. Frog marriage was performed in all its ceremonial pomp with
nadaswaram
and drums, but everything turned out to be futile. The God of Rain showed no consideration to these well-meaning townsfolk.

When will rain-water bless us? How long are we to depend upon water-tankers from the adjoining State?

These were the questions, tormenting all. How could they leave their ancestral houses, landed property, office and high school to migrate to a new place? It was impractical and impossible.

All the
Poojas, vratas,
festivities, frog-marriages had come to a meaningless end. When the entire population of the town was in a hopeless mess, there suddenly loomed on the horizon—rain-clouds. With deep concern they watched the clouds moving in the sky, entertaining fond hopes of the black clouds blessing them with a few showers. Every evening, people would come out into the open and watch the sky for a pleasant look at the racing black clouds. On the first day, they did not notice any airplanes but on the second, they did spot one, flying along with the clouds.

'Not one, but two.' said Chalapati, from his bridge table at the local Club.

'Could be some young pilots practising,' said Samba Murti, sitting calmly at the bridge table.

'It is no motor driving with an 'L' Board,' retorted Chalapati, making a dig at his friend.

Samba Murti, an Insurance Man, was in the mood of picking up a quarrel with Advocate Chalapati. He said, 'It could be a test-flight.'

'They do not allow test flights in inhabited places,' retorted Chalapati, after which both settled down to cards.

For about a week every evening, the people watched those black clouds along with the airplanes that constantly encircled them. The boys in the town spread the story that the 'planes were carrying passengers and the Pilots were waving coloured kerchieves to the people on the ground. One schoolgirl said it was green and the other swore it was red.

'I noticed very clearly the red kerchief,' said Parimala.

'Oh, that's why you are in a red border sari and a red blouse today. Maybe you expect the Pilot to lift you up from your backyard,' said Rekha.

'You are insolent. This is my normal dress,' said Parimala. Her secret had become public! In her heart there was a lurking desire to marry a Pilot who would make her fly like a bird. In uniform, a Pilot appeared to be a charming Prince to her.

'The sky has been full of dark clouds but there has been not a single drop of rain.' said Chalapati's wife Vandana that night to her husband.

'No thunder-no lighting. Clouds simply continue to chart the sky.' Chalapati responded to his wife's observation.

'You are always deeply engrossed in cards at the table. I wonder if you care to listen to thunder or see flashes of lightning. Cards hold your complete attention.' Vandana was quick to reply.

'Maybe they are supplying water through airplanes. There was no thunder, Dad, just the noise of airplanes,' said Rekha, Chalapati's daughter.

'Who said this?' Chalapati asked.

'Meenakshi's daughter-in-law Subhadra says, 'When water is being carried by shiploads to needy places, why can't this be done by air? Every evening they have been sending drinking water from Orissa to some place not far off from here.'

He never questioned the wisdom of the city girl, Subhadra. Who had spread this gossip? That night after dinner, he asked Rekha to fetch for him the entire bundle of newspapers of the month and arrange them date wise. He glanced through all the sheets carefully. When water could be transported by ship, there was nothing incongruous in its being carried by air.

After all, trains had carried water when the metropolis had faced acute shortage. Subhadra's statement could not totally be dismissed, he thought. That night he had a disturbed sleep. It was certainly quite unusual and unbelievable for airplanes to carry drinking water. Nowhere had it happened, as far as he knew. But his legal acumen could smell a rat. Every evening the airplanes drew the attention of the young and the old. Even the schoolboys and schoolgirls were observing them in anticipation. That particular morning on two occasions, he noticed those 'planes flying with the clouds. What was this mystery all about?

Around that time, Jagannath, his brother-in-law from the city visited them. Suddenly it dawned upon Chalapati that there was a border town of two neighbouring States.

'Chalapati, people in your town are no innocents. They have waylaid the train carrying water and have emptied all the tankers.'

'What is wrong in that? Some daredevils have looted the train— not for money or goods— just for drinking water.'

'We first thought of getting water by ship from Orissa but the Estimates Committee said that the price of doing so would be exorbitant. Then we thought of getting it by railway wagons but your townsfolk robbed us of the water intended for us. Now that transporting water by railway track has been ruled out and we wanted to avoid a law and order problem, we have devised a new method,' said Jagannath.

'What new method?'

Chalapati was taken aback for a moment but kept quiet, as restraint was the lesson he had learnt after joining the legal profession. That night he patiently heard his brother-in-law's narration of the new scientific method of driving clouds. The method adopted was similar to driving cattle. The clouds were made to obey the orders of the customers. Chalapati carefully assimilated all that his brother-in-law had said with enthusiasm. Next morning, he closely observed the two 'planes and the black clouds. That very afternoon he left for the State Capital.

Within a fortnight, Chalapati could successfully persuade the State Government to file a suit against the neighbouring State, alleging that they had been wrongfully stealing their lawful clouds in a crafty manner. By doing so, they had been reaping the benefits of rain water by depriving the aggrieved State of its natural right of getting water from the clouds which gathered within their territory and within the boundaries of their own State. The neighbouring State was forcibly robbing their clouds to enjoy the benefit of rainwater. This was outrageous, atrocious and highly immoral behaviour on the part of a responsible government. He prayed to Their Lordships to restrain the neighbouring State government from this gross violation of their natural rights. With misconduct and misuse of scientific knowledge they had been depriving their town and their people of the natural enjoyment of God's Rainfall.

'The Offender is a neighbouring State and if the case is filed in that State, we may not be able to get an impartial judgement due to pressure of public opinion' was one of the points mentioned in the plaint.

The respondent pointed out: 'This case cannot be tried outside our State's jurisdication as an accusing finger has been shown towards us. The neighbouring State is hurling a lot of allegations against us. In modern times, adopting scientific methods is no offence. We plead 'Not Guilty'.'

This line of argument was advanced by both the States and argued to its logical end. After patiently listening to a series of arguments quoting several precedents, both the High Courts thought it fit to refer the matter to an Apex Court at New Delhi. Thus, the two High Courts washed their hands off the ticklish problem of deciding the rightful owner of the clouds in the sky. To whom did they belong? Clouds are not stationary; they do not flow like rivers within a geographical boundary. They appear in the sky in a particular season, taking on different shapes and simply gallop off on their way. They do not obey any man-made laws.

We have border disputes, river-water disputes, boundary disputes between countries, maritime rights of the sea and navigable rights of air space. These are all well defined. Disputes go to the International Court at Hague or to the United Nations at New York. There is a clear understanding about the utilisation of Outer Space as well. The Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Milky Way, Air, Water, Earth, Sky — to whom do they belong? The Sun God and Rain-God are the most ancient of gods. Clouds are said to be the Chariots of Rain-God. The rivers and the waterways belong to a country or a region. But what about rain — the gift of clouds?

Law became helpless in the matter. There were simply no precedents for the advocates to quote. When people in a particular border-town were experiencing water scarcity and purchasing water from nearby places to make both ends meet, was it justifiable on the part of a neighbouring State to spill carbonised crystals on the driven clouds to make them pour out rain water?

'Nothing wrong in Cloud Seeding. We have spent a lot of money in inviting the scientists and making this experiment a success. We have evidence of the huge amount spent on this project. It is no offence. We are within our rights to give the benefit of scientific advancement to our people. The allegation that we stole the clouds is baseless. Clouds never stay at a particular place — they drift perpetually.' That was the defense of the respondent.

The learned Judges of the Apex Court were in a fix. No national or international law could enlighten them on this particular case. They were not unaware that the aggrieved town had natural justice on its side and the arguments advanced by the defense had their own merit. They had spent a lot of money for Cloud Seeding. Enterprise, enthusiasm, excellence and scientific advancement were on their side. They did not hide any basic facts. Nor did they admit the allegation of theft.

'If scientific advancement is to be labelled as stealing, then we admit our guilt,' was their gallant admission.

The judgement had to be delivered and the entire nation was anxious about what the verdict would be.

'What a pity that Man has come to this pathetic plight of stealing rain clouds! What is the reason and what are the circumstances for such a steep downfall? Continents, countries and States within States—these are all at the mercy of Mother Earth,

Mother Earth is one and indivisible. The sects, the rivers, the mountains, the forests, the air, water, sky, light, sun, moon and stars — all these belong to mankind and to all living species. Let not Man think all this is intended only for him. In his pride and pettiness, how often does he think that there is none to beat him? The fruits of Mother Earth are for one and all.

Who is responsible for this water scarcity and drought? Man, He cuts trees unashamedly for private gains and then experiments with artificial rain. Why doesn't he allow the natural phenomenon to benefit him in its own way? Stop deforestation! Grow more and more trees, instead of working as slaves in concrete jungles. If we look at Mother Earth with understanding, compassion and love, within a decade we will have plenty, instead of scarcity.

We find both the States to be culprits. We order them to plant a few thousand trees in the border area of the two States and report to us periodically of the progress made.'

BOOK: Our Favourite Indian Stories
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