a dinner party after the riot

A Dinner Party after the Riot

Coming to the aquarium he stopped. A magnificent world was illuminated with in the glass walls—a spray of twinkling tiny bubbles and in between them the fish with their gold-like sheen, dancing and trying to make him forget all the stories of the past. He saw carefully. A tiny fish lay inert on the sandy bottom of the aquarium , quiet, like a dead one, unlike the others moving and dancing, it lay completely exhausted by the shining little babbles at the bottom.
‘it is dead.’
‘no, it isn’t dead , no. it’s simply posing …after a short while it will wake up to action and begin to dance with the others.’
‘Who cares.’ He was annoyed with the fish. ‘Who cares…How does it matter if it dies…?’
‘just touch and see. One.. two….three….’ he was advancing his finger slowly towards the aquarium glass.
In a corner on the right there stood men, four of them in all, with wine glasses in their hands. One of them happened to look at the aquarium. He drew the others’ attention to the glass-box.
‘See, see what he is doing.’
‘poor fish.’
‘Not the fish, he….see him.’
‘Oh, how romantic…!’
‘Romantic?’
‘Yes.’
‘You find romantic in every thing.'
‘Romance itself is a thing like that.’
‘But what is romantic there in it?’
‘See, in his eyes, Oh, an endless curiosity. And what he is curious about you can see for yourselves….these moving and dancing fairies of water in the thin glass castle…How romantic!’
‘Oh no. they are not fairies. And , even if they were….. I don’t like confusion, to create ramp by bringing two things together. The fish…dancing carelessly in their glass castle….a dreamland ….a dream island…’
‘But see him. He is the object to look at. That is, the way he is trying to touch it, or see it closely. Did you mark his body language? See his eyes are small but having a fine curve in them. The body is supple. He is curious to touch it with his hand but has patience too…. And let there be tied a string of small bells round his ankle, the melody produced by them would equal the notes of a nightingale….’
‘But, a string of small bells…’
‘That makes no difference…’
‘No, there is a difference….see. he has drawn his hand back.’
‘I tell you, he will advance his hand once again…’
‘I say he won’t.’
‘I say….’
‘Bet on it.’
‘Done.’
‘What worth….?’
‘Don’t meddle with the issue now…’
‘The wine glass is almost empty…’
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘All the music is in wine. It is wine that speaks.’
‘Don’t alter the stand.’
‘The bet is done.’
‘No. No bet. Suppose you suggested something unmentionable….’
‘Or, for example an accommodation in the enclave under construction?
‘Be sure. I shall not ask you for that even.’
‘For example…’
‘For example….when the time comes….’
‘You contemptible wretch.’
One of them dashed the wine glass against the floor violently. The rest of them tried to check him.
‘No…no…mister…’
Despite the clang nothing changed. The scene remained the same as it had been earlier. There were very many people in the party lost in their own affairs. None cared for the crash in the least, for the glass or for the splinters. None turned to look at him.
‘Ha…ha….ha….’ all the four were laughing now.
The person standing by the aquarium squatted down.
‘See…see…see him.’
‘Ha…ha….ha…’
‘It is, as they say-neither head nor tail. The tossed coin descended upright….’
‘Why not. Ssaley, spoiled my pleasant mood.
‘Why can’t you ask for shabnam, why? Is she mine only? She…’
‘Yes? She….’
The other one breathed in heavily.
‘And Ssaaly, you in that enclave…’
‘In a little space…What’s that?- the verse by ghalib?’
‘Not by ghalib. By Mir…’
‘Abey saaley, not Mir. bahadur shah zafar.’
He recited the lines.
‘Kitna hai badnaseeb zafar dafer ke liye,
Do gaz zameen bhi na mili ku-e-yaar mein.’

[ So hard of luck is Zafar about his eternal rest/ that he could not have even two yard length of land in the alley of his beloved ones.]

‘What a verse is it, dear? I am swayed by it whenever I listen to it.’
‘But saaley, I am angry over the accusation. Is the land mine?’
‘No!.
‘Is it this person’s?’
No.’
‘Then?...Every body knows whose it is, then, why couldn’t you ask for a piece of it?’
‘I made a mistake…’
‘No, not a mistake because you are not out of that devilish way of thinking in which our shades of skin…our possessions…I mean, that much-you all must understand, what the more can I say?’
He was not concerned with the party. He was carefree now. He had been so many parties like that one. Or, it may be safely said, he had not only heard but seen also so many tales of happenings- particularly, stories about the parties celebrating the victories after a war, major, general, high ranking officials, wives of military men, avoiding political talk and just enjoying the fun of pleasant talk among themselves. Once it so happened that he was assigned the jab of looking after the canteen arrangements.
‘But these parties…?’
‘War and riot?’
‘No, he doesn’t want to think. Thinking puts him under strain. The brain feels like splitting up.’
‘want to go home?’
Sattar had made up his mind. He had to go home..his home. None can check him from his going home..and why anyone should?’
‘Enjoyed yourself?’ kittoo nangdeya was asking.
‘Ya…ya…ya…’
‘Why? You liked it well! Or, you didn’t sattar?’
‘Why should he not?’ were eyeing our wives surrepticiously…kyon be?’
Satish bandya smiled broadly.
‘Ya…ya…’
‘So? Your intentions now?’
‘Shall go home.’
‘Why?’
‘Shall go home.’ A child-like smile played on his lips. ‘ Will you let me?’
‘Yes, yes. Why not?’
‘ I shall go home,’ he repeated for the third time.
‘Yes…In now way we wish you not to go at your pleasure. But going just now…? Do you follow me? No ?’
Like a child out of wits he played the same old tape, ‘ I have to go home. Won’t you let me?’
Once again he came and stopped by the aquarium where the tiny fish lay dead on the sandy bottom of the glass house. He was looking at the fish intently. He had no interest left in him for the playfulness of the other fish.