Cerebration

Pair of Blue Eyes: Abdus Samad, translated into
English by Shaheen Gulshanah)

(Original Assamese short story titled “Hei Sokujor” by Abdus Samad, translated into English by Shaheen Gulshanah)Abdus Samad is the author of two short story collections and six novels. Widely loved and read in Assam, much of his subversive fiction critiquing Assamese nationalism and religious divides depict the life of the migrant Muslim community of Bengali origin in Assam. He won the Munin Borkotoky Award (2006) and The President Centenary Literary Award (2017) from Asom Sahitya Sabha. Several of Samad’s short stories have been translated into English and Hindi and published in reputed journals such as Cerebration, Scroll and The Polisproject. About the translator: The translation from the original Assamese short story is done by Shaheen Gulshanah. This is Shaheen’s translation debut and she is a Ph.D research scholar of physics at the National Institute of Technology Meghalaya, India and an avid
reader.

Hey dear—

I am not going to tell you a story today, instead I will be telling you something really personal, an intimate issue. I am sure that you will get bored listening to it. You might not say it out loud out of curtsy, but you will definitely be murmuring to yourself- “What on earth has he started whining about! My own problems don’t seem to end. These days I am not even sure if I will be able to make it home at the end of the day. Exactly, when and in which moment terrorists’ explosives would go boom, who knows! I barely survived 10/30. Wasn’t i a Thursday? The day of Sadin’s issue? Right in front of our office gate, there exists a

newspaper-magazine store. On Thursdays, after sometime of reaching office, I head to the store and purchase Sadin. On that very day, at around ten minutes past eleven I went there to get this weekly magazine, and returned back to my office almost by fifteen minutes past eleven. I had hardly seated myself, and as I was roughly rummaging through the first page, all of a sudden-BAMM- a revolting noise that could rip off the sky! The glass doors and window panes in our office building shattered to bits. A neighbouring colleague of mine got injured by the shards of glass as he was working. I initially guessed it might have been a massive earthquake, and even expressed the same. No, someone said a city bus’s tire had burst. These were the conversations of one moment. The very next moment we were confirmed that a huge bomb had gone off in Ganeshguri. I viewed the G.S. Road in front of the unglazed, naked office windows. Ah, what a heart-wrenching scene! Entire Ganeshguri was in fumes! The bomb had exploded about ten yards away from the newspaper-magazine store. It is highly likely that anybody in the store or nearby survived. How would they! As far as one can see- there is nothing but piles of dismembered human beings! Alas, one would find it extremely difficult to believe the fright and grisliness of terror until having witnessed such a scenario that could bring tears to the eyes. For how long will the faint of heart be able to see such an agonizing scenario? Upon returning my gaze back to the room, I noticed that the wall-clock had fallen to the ground, broken into pieces like the dismantled human bodies on the road. I realized further, not just realized, I saw- most of the clocks in our office had collapsed on the floor. And when they did, the time was twenty minutes past eleven. Didn’t I just say? I barely survived that day! And by barely, I mean by merely five minutes! Ever since that day, when I leave home in the morning, I secretly bid adieu to my family in my heart, and look at their faces like it’s the last time. On one hand, the price of crude oil has descended in the global market. Even the inflation rate is going down the same path. But on the other hand, the prices of goods in our markets have been increasing hourly, like the

incessant rainfall of the monsoon season leading to heavy floods. For instance, the day before yesterday, I purchased lady’s finger-okra for eight rupees (per 250 grams), yesterday I got it for ten rupees, and I wonder how much will it cost today! There seems to be no way of figuring out what exactly is going wrong. And this fellow over here……!” Nonetheless, I will still share this predicament of mine. All these times I had only shared light-hearted tales with you. And I am sure, because of this, there is no way that we haven’t built a slight mutual liking for each other. And I strongly presume that, for the sake of this very liking, you will listen to what I have to say with a bit of patience. Won’t you? Won’t you listen to my plight?

“Go ahead-why won’t I listen?”

After rambling for so long, I believe that you will definitely seek some tolerance to listen to me, out of kindness. I know this very well and I look forward to this moment. So, listen-

I had lunch at Ganeshguri dhaba today. Tandoori rotis, Chilli Chicken and some rice. I sat at a table near the window. I have been there several times before. The food is quite good. But it was exceptionally good today. I relished two piping hot tandoori rotis with half of the Chilli Chicken and had the remaining half with rice. I looked across the street through the window as I was delightfully munching my food. Just like that; viewing pedestrians, vehicles… On one instance, a bus arrived from Khanapara. As the bus came to a halt, a nine-to-ten year old boy started shouting at the top of

his lungs while holding on to the bus doorknob – Chandmari, Silpukhuri, Ambari, empty bus, empty bus…. That’s it. It became difficult for me to keep on looking. So, I turned my gaze back towards the restaurant. And all of a sudden, a pair of eyes emerged at the doorstep. My eyes fell upon those eyes. How helpless and hungry they were! The pair of eyes, as I noticed, was more fixated on my platter than on me. And I further noticed, the more it stared at the food, the more miserable and ravenous the eyes grew.

Ah! I didn’t feel like eating anymore. The rice seemed to go cold. It appeared to me as if I even forgot how the chilli chicken that I was having a while ago, tasted like. I let out a sigh and went towards the basin to wash my hands. I paid the bill and left. And listen. It didn’t just occur to me today. I cannot give you an exact count of how many times I have been experiencing such a thing, ever since I began to have some understanding of the world around me. I can only tell you about a few of such occasions.

One afternoon, as I was having lunch at home, the doorbell rang. I went towards the open window to have a look as to who it was. It was a beggar. When I saw him, he was withdrawing his frail and trembling hands away from the bell. I turned away. The pair of eyes I witnessed at the dhaba appeared again, this time at the doorstep of my own home. The rest is the same as today. I lost my will to eat.

5 Another day, as I was eating, I had the same experience when I saw the boy who came to deliver the gas cylinder at our house. His ribs were prominent like the ridges of a carambola. And on one day.....no, leave it. I won't go on rambling about the same things now. Rather, I'll tell you certain things about the time when I was a child, when I was quite ignorant. During
the day (sometimes on evenings too), whenever I would take a bite, that very pair of eyes would make an appearance at the kitchen door, this time along with a body. It would stare at the edibles on my plate. How miserable, helpless and hunger-filled the gaze used to be! As time went by gazing, the eyes would grow more and more helpless and starving.

And the more starved the eyes looked, the more I felt joy, and I held a sense of pride. I would gulp down more and more of the delectables, intentionally, for those eyes to see. And.... I need not say anymore. I am sure that along with your annoyance, there is some curiosity added to it at this moment. And you will want to know whose eyes they are? How are they linked to the boy in the city bus, the beggar and the gas cylinder boy? And why am I irritated by the emergence of those eyes often while I am eating?

That’s a valid question. After listening to my jabbering for so long, it's normal for you to be left with such a question. Let me get to the point now. I don't want to keep you curious and excited for long. Listen—

There is no connection of those eyes with the boy in the city bus, the beggar and the delivery boy. Residing in a hut behind the garden of our village home, having to starve for two meals after having had one, suffering from malnutrition as a result of starvation, and in the end dying even before losing a few baby teeth as a result of hunger and malnutrition— those pair of eyes belong to my childhood buddy, my friend, Altafuddin. That's it. I'm now certain, that you will say you have understood it all.

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Pair of Blue Eyes: Abdus Samad, translated into English by Shaheen Gulshanah)

Pair of Blue Eyes: Abdus Samad, translated into
English by Shaheen Gulshanah)