This is an English translation of “நூருன்னிசா”, a Tamil short story written by Ku.Pa. Raja Gopalan. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.
***
It must be about one week since I was released from the
jail. One day, in the morning I was deeply contemplating reclining on a chair as
to which of the lands the flood of my soul would flow into. I didn’t see any
task which I could efficiently undertake. There was a lull in the National Movement
and the Congress party’s efforts to rebuild the country were in disarray.
The postman gave me a thick bundle of newspapers along
with a cover. I opened the cover, read it, brooding over on who, on this earth,
could have written this lonely soul a letter. The letter written in English read
as followed.
Madras Qulam Khader Khan, M.A., Pro. Deputy Collector.
My dear friend,
I don’t dare think you had forgotten me. As I don’t know
where you are living, I haven’t been able to write you letters for these many
years. But, now, the person who is behind this letter and our probable meetings
in future after this, is none other my sister Noor-Un-Nisa.
She used to play with us during our school days. Do
you remember it? She incidentally came across your name in a magazine published
on tenth, and showed it to me. She could identify that it was you as she could
keep as simple things as your initials in her memory for long. I sent a ‘Demi-official’
telegram to Vellore as she
had suggested seeking the address of your residence. I just received the reply
today. Do you remember the childish pledge we undertook at the age of twelve while
studying in Trichy that we both would never get married without informing each
other? This letter now intends to fulfil that pledge. My marriage is taking
place in Chennai. I am sending the invitation along with this letter. You must
attend my marriage.
With love,
Qulam Khader.
This letter at once got me rid of the darkness of
my mind like a lightening. I had been growing very anxious at the face of a
woman that appeared very frequently in my mind, got me love-struck all through these
past ten years of my aimless roaming as a vagabond and six months of
imprisonment for participating in the Salt-Disobedience movement. It was the face
of Noor-Un-Nisa. The innocent face of a girl with the head scarf. Two naughty,
complaining eyes in that face floating between eye lids wearing eye liners. The
teeth line resembling jasmine buds amidst the rose flowers, slightly visible
out as if biting the lower lip a little. It was her face that had dwelled in my
mind, got me love-struck like an enchantress. Would she also feel the way I had
felt? If not, she couldn’t have been instrumental behind this letter. Right? It
seemed that she had called me out by my name from the crowd in which I was
roaming incognito. It was an interesting story how the friendship between Qulam
Khader and I had started. My father got me admitted into third grade in a
middle school in Trichy when I was ten years old. Qulam was my ‘neighbour’ in
the class. He was a young boy with some feminine appeal. One day he copied,
wrote it down on his slate while I was doing maths in my slate. His secret act
became open when his slate reflected the very mistake I made in my slate. The
teacher found me guilty thinking that it was I who copied from his slate, and
caned me. Qulam called me out, snapping his hands, while going back home that
evening.
“Why didn’t you betray me?” he asked. I didn’t reply.
I wasn’t sure what he thought of after that, he
asked me to board his car to go to his house. “I’ll leave you back home” he
said. We got into his car. My long desire of travelling in car had thus been
fulfilled. In fifteen minutes the car stopped in front of a palatial bungalow
in Thennur. Gyasuddin Saheb was a big business man. It was said that he was a descendant
of Arcot Nawabs. We saw him sitting, leaning over velvet pillows in the front
hall of the house. A hookah pipe and a big vessel were placed before him. Big
sized mirrors and portrait of various Mughal kings were decking all over the walls.
A thick fragrance of incense sticks planted in peacock shaped marble holder was
wafting through the air. Velvety carpets were spread on the floor. Qulam jumped
off the car and went to him running and told something into his ears. That man gestured
to me when I was standing nearly stunned at watching everything around me, and
said “Come here”.
When I happened to meet Moulana Shougat Ali later
in my life, I would invariably remember this man. Qulam almost dragged me to
him. The man called out to his wife as he fondly stroked my back. His wife
along with their two daughters appeared from inside. I could very well say even
now without betraying my memory that she must be about thirty years old. Tall
and very beautiful lady. The sound that came out of her anklets was rhythmic, regal
for every step she walked steadily. The elder daughter Alima was short and
stocky. The younger daughter, Noor-Un-Nisa resembled Qulam. She must be eight
years old. Don’t ask me whether I had the ability of penning down everything
this elaborately at that age. Definitely I didn’t have. What I am writing now
is what all had got registered in my heart like photographs. The image of
Noor-Un-Nisa stands tall as an indelible painting drawn in my heart,
When I saw her first that day, she was wearing a
green skirt shining with embroidery, a light shaded yellow jacket and rose silk
Thavani. She didn’t wear anklets, sandals, bangles in wrist, and rings
in fingers. She had chiselled earlobes unlike protruding ones found among the
Muslims in Karnataka. Her face is still carved in my heart. Her long eye brows
and lock of hair were found pitch dark. She had tied her hair without plaiting
it and it added up to her beauty. Her complexion did seem to have no
comparison. Her eyes- words were insufficient to explain exactly how they
looked. Were they looking like lotus? Or resembled fishes?- we could try
explaining it with the mortal words of an amateur poet, if at all we wished to
do it. Gyasuddin whispered something to his wife. She glanced at me a second,
and told something to Alima. Alima went in, and brought a bag full of apples, oranges,
and pomegranates. I would never be able to forget the eyes of Qulam’s mother, brimming
with love when she gave me that bag of fruits. She stroked my cheeks with the fondness
of a mother.
Qulam led me to the car, we boarded it. While leaving,
I turned, looked at the doorway. Noor-Un-Nisa was looking at my face, biting
the end of her scarf. The moment she looked into my eyes, she ran into the house.
I and Qulam became thick friends since that day, we played together, gossiped together
and fantasised about life building forts in the open sky. I spent most of my
times in Qulam’s house. Noor- Un-Nisa used to be there when I was present keenly
listening to our chatters. She would also play with us. Closing my eyes with
her palms from behind seemed to be giving her immense happiness. I would also
feel something inexplicable when she did like that. Her hands were as soft as
rose petals. When she laughed cheerfully taking her hands off my eyes, I found
dimples on both her cheeks. My heart would be filled with an unfathomable
happiness, something beyond explaining in words. We had spent such wonderful
days together till we reached fourth grade.
All of a sudden, my father was transferred out of
Trichy and I lost contact with Qulam. How would I explain my happiness at
receiving this letter that had come to me after twelve years? I boarded the
train next day night for Chennai.
Qulam, sitting with me in that big bungalow full
of his relatives and guests, was eagerly talking about our olden days. A music
concert by one Mohammed Kasim, a singer of some repute was going on. Rose flowers
everywhere. Everyone in the house was offered attar and rose water as copious
as water. Qulam led me to a room upstairs. We were chit chatting for a long
time. Qulam’s mother came there searching for him. On seeing me, she pulled her
face inward, and covered it.
“Amma, do you know who he is? He is our…”Qulam didn’t
complete his sentence. “Yes. I remember. How are you Thambi? She came forward
as she fondly enquiring.
“I am good Amma.”
“Where are you now?”
“I am in
Trichy now”
“Are you married?”
“No”
I felt someone looking young was standing behind
her, like a shadow as I was speaking with her. A minute long yearning came over-
It should be Noor-Un-Nisa. Would she appear in front of me now? Next moment, I
thought it was impossible. How would it be possible? She was a woman wearing purdah.
Other than the petty reference in the letter Qulam had written, I didn’t mention
anything about her while speaking. I was hesitant even to ask about her. Only
after I was securely sure of not getting an opportunity to meet her, I grew
comfortable with Qulam as usual while chatting. Qulam left me at about ten for bed.
They had allotted me a separate room. I was rolling on the bed in the
loneliness of that lonely room. As I couldn’t bear the electric light, I
switched it off and kept the window doors open. The moon was throwing its cool
light into my room through the window. Sitting on the bed, I was thinking of almost
everything unthinkable in my mind. Weren’t she roaming other part of this house
that time? Would she be aware of what my heart is feeling now? Impossible.
The desire of a flower comes out as its fragrance
and hits one’s feelings. How would the waves of my longingness hit the shores
of her heart? Impossible anyway. Why did she then bring me here using her brother
as a tool in that letter? Has she fallen in love with me? ….How would I ask her
this? My guileless heart was tremendously as troubled as a roaring ocean with pounding
questions after questions. It was midnight, I didn’t feel sleepy. The bustle of
the city settled down. I could hear only the howls of the waves afar that came
floating in the air. Suddenly I felt an unusual desire exploded in my heart.
Would it be possible for Noor-Un-Nisa to come at this hour to meet me? Or is
she waiting for me to meet me at some unknown place?’ I thought.
I heard a sound of soft footsteps. Yes. It was
Noor-Un-Nisa. She came near and stood by other side of the window. The same
image of hers, with a little difference in her toned build for her age. I could
see her face clearly under the moon light. Unable to assess my words as to what
I spoke, I just mumbled, “Things happened as we feared. Didn’t it?”. She
gestured to me, closing her mouth with her one finger.
She took out a cover that she held along her
chest. “Read this letter only after going home. Leave this place in the morning
itself. We have met, seen each other. That is it. No more delay even by a
minute” she said, turned after a couple of steps. I noticed drops of sweat on
her beautiful face, might be due to pressing anxiety. I jumped a leap, and
grasped her hands, and we stood there looking at each other for some time. She released
her hands off my clutch, very softly and left.
Qulam’s face hung as he saw me getting ready next
day morning.
“Any problem?” he asked.
“I think a day is enough for now. We can meet
some other day. I have some urgent work” I told him. In a short span of half an
hour, I went out of the bungalow. On the banks of River Cauvery, sitting in my
room by the window, I was again watching the same full moon through the window-
but as a totally changed man now!
I read Noor-Un-Nisa’s letter again and again. It read
as followed:
“You can keep this letter with you treating it
either as my words or my existence in you. I am still unable to come out of the
love I felt for you when we played together in Trichy. It might be because I
feel that your image still stands in my heart as a statue. I am just dreaming
that I have been playing with you all along with a never-dying youthfulness. My
desire to meet you again in this birth has also been fulfilled. I am just going
to spend my remaining days the way Jebunnisa, the sister of Emperor Aurangazeb,
spent her days. It is very satisfying to hear your words you spoke to my mother
that you are still unmarried. If you could live your remaining days without
getting involved with any other woman having your heart aligned with mine, I
would be able to live in this world without being worn-out. You don’t have to
write me a reply affirming this commitment. I strongly believe that you would
do it. It is the very basis of my life. I am always thinking about you, fully unmindful
of what I am. We aren’t living as husband and wife in this world. We don’t need
sexual gratification either. Let us not defile the full moon of ecstasy that
blossoms in the sky of our sweet thoughts. I hope I sound right. Don’t I?”
Yours
Noor-Un-Nisa.
I felt Noor-Un-Nisa had come in person in the
moon light and solemnly sought my words of pledge. I have been roaming in all
possible mundane ways as ordered by my dearest enchantress. She just appears in
front of me like a golden damsel the moment I think of her, encourages me in
all the tasks I do and pacifies me by her soothing appearance in my mind when I
am down with anxiety.
***Ended***
