Nikhil Khasnabish

(The story called “Riha” vividly depicts the Assam Agitation. It was a widely known agitation by the Assamese people. Behind the conversations, the author brings to light the culture and traditions of the Assamese people. The story talks about Riha. It symbolizes puberty. It also talks about Bihuan, kopou-phul, keteki-phul, and the traditional Assamese musical instruments such as gogona, pepa, and dhol, which are part and parcel of Bihu.)

“Ansuman, tell me everything in detail. I’ll fix him.” Sumit was gnashing his teeth. “The scoundrels shouldn’t be indulged.”

      “All of a sudden, Madan entered the room without knocking on the door. Then I was writing a letter to Mitali, describing my sweet experiences at Sunjuri. Seeing him, I stopped writing and folded the paper. I looked up at his face and failed to understand his real motive. I think he took the advantage of your absence from the house. In your presence, he wouldn’t have dared to enter it. I got puzzled. ‘How long will you be here? I want to know it from you right this moment,’ he said in a harsh voice. ‘For a few months.’ I was twisting the pen perpendicularly between the palms of my hands. ‘Are you from Calcutta?’ ‘Yes, I am.’ ‘Planning to live here permanently?’ He contorted his face with rage. ‘This is my friend’s house,’ I answered, looking into his eyes. ‘I ask you to leave this house soon.’ ‘This house doesn’t belong to you.’ ‘Right. This house doesn’t belong to me. But this is my would-be father-in-law’s house’ ‘But I’m living in my friend’s house.’ ‘Who’s your friend?’ ‘The man who saved you from the hands of the police.’ ‘You’re talking like an uncivilized man. You are a totally uncivilized man.’ ‘I would feel pleased if you could behave like a civilized man.’ ‘Mind this is my State.’ ‘And I am a guest here.’ I strangled my temperamental outburst with a fake smile. Then, blowing up at me, he slowly moved up to my table. ‘Please go out. Or I’ll call Jethu.’ ‘Are you threatening me?’ ‘I’m not threatening you. I’m simply asking you to get out of the room. Don’t you see I’m writing a letter?’ ‘Where’s Romola?’ ‘Who’s Romola?’ ‘My lover.’ ‘I don’t know.’ I instantly pushed him out to the veranda. Then he raised his right hand to strike me. I grasped and twisted his hand forcibly. He hastily went out. ‘Ansuman-babu, I’ll throw you out of this house. It’s my challenge. I’m giving you a week’s time. If you love yourself, leave this house immediately. I don’t trust a man like you. I know you’ll do harm to Romola and her family. Sumit Barkataki is a big fool. He thinks he’s elevated his status by giving you shelter. I must save Romola from you. I can’t see the prestige of this house demolished,’ he sort of shouted to me, from the veranda.  Then Romola came running. She was in her wet clothes. She faced him. ‘What has happened to you? Why are you brashly shouting to him? Don’t you know he’s our guest?’ She seared him with her stare. ‘Your guest is not a good man. I’ll drive him away. Beware of him. He may harm you. Don’t trust him.  He’s my enemy.’ ‘Chee, chee, chee! Don’t talk like this!’ She glanced at me. ‘Romola, don’t behave like a foolish girl.’ He went out of the compound gruffly. Then Jethu appeared on the veranda. He asked Romola, ‘What happened here?’ ‘Nothing, Deuta.’ She went in. Sumit, then I felt utterly dishonoured. Jethu failed to know about the matter.” Ansuman sighed noisily and lit a cigarette. He began to smoke the cigarette, gazing out of the window. “I don’t know why Madan is harbouring a grudge against me. I believe his behaviour is nothing but the outburst of his jealousy.” He looked at the glowing stub of the cigarette, then left it in the ashtray.

      A group of young boys cheerfully chattering to themselves were going past the house. Sumit peeped at the boys through the gap of the curtain in the northerly window and said to Ansuman, “Madan is not in the group. I would call him if he were here.”

      “Sumit, I think we better forget the matter.”

      “It’s not a forgettable matter. Our silence will inspire him.”

      The boys returned and gathered in front of the gate. They were pushing one another to open the gate. “See their hesitation, Ansuman. I know they’ve come for the Bihu subscription,” Sumit said. They hesitantly came up to the veranda and knocked on the door. Sumit answered the door. “What do you want?’

      “The Bihu subscription, Sir,” the boy holding the receipt book said.

      “Write fifty-one rupees.” Sumit came into his room. He took five ten-rupee notes and a one-rupee coin from his purse, went out quickly and handed the money to the boy holding the receipt book.

      “Thank you, Sir.” The boy made out a receipt and gave it to Sumit.

      Sumit entered the room and closed the door.

*

Some Bihu dancers, wearing regulation dresses, came to the Barkataki’s and began to dance merrily. “Bihu dancers, Ansuman!” Sumit said and came to the veranda, with Ansuman. 

      Ansuman stood by Sumit.

      “This is called riha. It symbolizes puberty. Bihuan, kopou-phul, keteki-phul, the traditional Assamese musical instruments such as gogona, pepa and dhol are the part and parcel of the Bihu. The Bihu is a fertility festival. It’s an offspring of the Austro-Asiatic civilization and imbued with folk-merriment like in the Russian Polka. The Bihu is dearly close to the hearts of the Assamese people. Well, what’s your favourite instrument, Ansuman?”

      “The tabla.”

      “The tabla is the heartbeat of Indian music.”

      Amit, who was inside, came out, wearing a bihuan around his head, and pulled Ansuman to the dancers.

      Ansuman commenced to clap his hands, moving his body sinuously like the dancers. “Beautiful! Ansuman, beautiful!” Sumit shouted happily, clapping his hands.

*

“Why is kopou-phul considered specially important in the Bihu?” Ansuman drew on the cigarette, keeping looking at the picture of kopou-phul on the back cover of the magazine lying on the coffee-table.

      Sumit scratched his head. “This fragrant orchid is a symbol of lust, and the significance of the Bihu dance is fertility.”

      Ansuman picked up the magazine from the table and examined the orchid from different angles. “Its front cover is torn.”

      “The rhythmic movements of bosom and pelvis are not erotic if you think of it objectively and deeply. These movements suggest the continuation of life and harmony and balance. So, dancing in our New Year, we welcome the Year, expecting that it’ll bring us life, happiness and harmony. The understanding of the Bihu dance depends on the enlightenment of the person, to a great extent.”

      “Where are these orchids found?” 

      Ansuman showed interest. “In many places. In our backyard too.” Sumit emitted enthusiasm.

      “In your backyard?’

      “Why are you so much interested in it?”

      “This is the first time I’ve seen an orchid having a symbolic meaning.”

      “And this is the first time you’ve come to our State and seen the Bihu dance.”

      “Of course.”

*

The next day, Sumit and Ansuman went to the backyard. Sumit began to look for the orchids, craning his neck under the mango tree. “Ansuman, come on!” 

      “Wow! Marvellous, Sumit!” 

      Ansuman immediately shinned up the tree and gleefully reached the branch adorned with the orchids. He touched them, fondled them and culled them delicately, balancing himself on the two branches under his feet. Sumit remained gazing up at him, smiling. Ansuman excitedly sniffed the orchids, closing his eyes, then shinned down the tree, the orchids in his left hand. “Give me two orchids. I’ll present Dolly with them.” Sumit stretched out his hands. Ansuman carefully selected two orchids and handed them to him. 

      “Where will you meet her?” Ansuman asked.

      “I’ll go to her today, with you. Dressing myself most sartorially.”

      “I know you have dress-sense. But are you invited?”

      “I don’t need any invitations. I’m a teacher. A teacher can go to his student’s house, even uninvited. But I won’t go if you don’t accompany me.”

      “Why do you think negatively?”

*

“I’m not a coward. I don’t like cowering and cringing people,” Sumit said to Ansuman and put his trembling hand on the hinge of the gate. He slowly pushed the gate open, felt his throat dry and his face slightly sweat from nervousness. “I wouldn’t be able to come here if you were not with me.” Sumit stood on the veranda and pushed the doorbell.

      Dolly opened the door. “O, Sir! I’m so lucky! Please get in.” She ushered them into the drawing-room. “This is your first visit to our house.”

      Sumit presented her with the orchids. “A happy New Year to you!”  

      “A happy New Year to you!” Ansuman said and smiled.

      “A very happy New Year to both of you! Please sit down.”

      She clutched the orchids to her bosom joyfully. “Is your Deuta home?” Sumit asked in a low voice and sat on the sofa beside Ansuman.

      “He’s talking to Mama.”

      “Mama?” Ansuman asked and looked up at her face.

      “We call maternal uncle Mama or Mumai,” she said.

      “We’ve come in the Bihu, uninvited. I think your Deuta won’t get angry,” Sumit simpered.

      “My Deuta honours guests. He’s not a splenetic man.” She touched the orchids to her left cheek and bit her lower lip. “I’ll send Deuta.” She went in.