A Funny Story : Black and White

- Compilation: Pratibha Thakkar

- pratibhathakker@yahoo.com

On Sunday afternoon, Professor Anantaraya, feeling overwhelmed, started getting ready to lie down. Anantaraya used to open tiffin and dry it in college every day. Kantaben realized on the first day after the marriage that they like to eat Utari Roti very much. He would be pleased if he found the last roti slightly hard, burnt and swollen. Anyway, kantaben makes cooking very good. Anantarai used to say that no one can make dal like my mother, but now Kantaben's dal has forgotten to say that.

Anantarai fell down with a book in his hand. Kantaben came into the room, wiping his hands with the end of his shawl, while he was still taking the short story 'Gowalani' written by Malayanil.

'I'm sorry, I forgot to take medicine today.' Muttering, he took the medicine. He was going back when Anantarai stopped him.

'You stand side by side?'

'No, no, I have so much work! In the evening, you want to make yourself feel better. Pick vegetables. Go to sleep. I lie down every afternoon. Today you should rest and sleep. I won't let you make any noise, that's all.'

'Kanta, why don't you listen? Let's see. If I pick vegetables for you this evening. Come here and see.'

'Hi hi! What do people say after? How much food or vegetables does the bridegroom pick? Leave it alone.'

'Well let's finish this story. Your uncle came last Sunday, left unfinished.'

'What's wrong with my uncle in that? That is from above to us...'

'Leave uncle. Listen to the story further.'

'Leave it all to you. Change the story.'

'How many times I told you not to insult Gujarati literature like this.'

'Well let's settle the story. But be quick. I have a lot of work...'

Anantaraya held Kantaben's hand and made him sit next to him on the bed.

'Do you remember where we stopped?'

'Kahi do ne bhai saab in a nutshell. What if you ask questions and I don't know?'

'If you listen. The married hero stares at the cowherd who comes from another village to give milk every day. Then one day chase him out of the village. Gowalani goes half way and sits under a tree. He calls the hero by his name, insists on drinking fresh milk, both agree. No, not talking, the hero would ask personal things and answer them shyly. Suddenly Gowalani remembers that she has forgotten her hulli i.e. basket somewhere in the village. He runs to get it and the hero sits on the roof behind him, wandering in colorful imaginations. Just read this far right? Then next it happens that Govalani comes back and both talk again. Everything about her, her name, her husband, her house, her work. Now the hero says that it is wet. His heart is bursting with hope. There suddenly the hero's wife peeks in the roof window. She is so angry that she cannot say anything. Akitas just stares at the protagonist with a furious face. The hero looks down. Now reading further. Listen carefully.'

Anantaraya now began to read in sentimental style, 'Dali-dhutari was laughing with her mouth in Dali-salla. The artist had to paint three pictures here, one of Kalika, the second of a witch and the third of a fool.' Anantarai stopped.

'Why did you stop? What are you looking at?' Then Kantabe asked gently, 'Have you had tea?'

'Kanta, the story is lost.'

'like this? Man ya mui... Le, then why did she keep looking like this in front of her groom? Don't say anything. It would have been better if it had been written. Where did this painter finally come from? It was not in the whole story. And I don't understand how it got there? Now don't pretend like that. Don't you just ask? Shall I go now?'

Anantarai sighed and closed his eyes.

'Will we go to the cell in the evening? I want to take ya salla.'

Kantaben's voice fell on deaf ears. Seeing Anantaraya sleeping sweetly, Kantaben went to the kitchen. If I clean the vegetable basket soon, I will go to the cell peacefully in the evening. This side wears new salla everyday. Wear, he earns his bride but that. If there is a home business, the same is the case with the wife. Where does he refuse to say anything to our master? Today we have to take two salla. Sister has an event there next month. Will work.

'Where do you drag me into the cell like this? Any men in sight?'

'You don't like whatever I bring. Also to change. It does not do that in the cell. If four hundred buses are saved, it will be beneficial.'

'How is this?' asked Kantabe, pulling a sari from the pile.

'Kanta, there if, seems to be a dress. Let's go.'

'Who do you want to buy a dress for? Don't waste wrong time. Don't like it? Prices, what else?'

Anantaraya's tongue did not rise here after talking continuously for hours in the class. However, he was highly respected in the college. No one could teach Gujarati subject like him. His reading dripped from his speech. So many girls came to ask for their help, but Sheila! He could not take his eyes off Sheila. Were you afraid that he would see them looking like this? But the temptation to watch is not released. The thick black hair was tied in different ways every day. Sometimes a pant top, sometimes a kurti, sometimes even a Punjabi dress. Her ensembles with Punjabi dresses. When he laughed, he gently patted her neck. Also matching with kurti or punjabi a small cloth.

'Kanta, do you wear this maroon colored cloth every day? If you do matching cloth with clothes? How nice it feels.'

Do you see my clothes? I don't even know. Every time who finds the wallet in the wallet? Also, I wear three-four sallas alternately. His color wallet gets exhausted immediately. Then?' Anantaraya did not have the answer to the latter. Thus, he did not have an answer to any of Kantaben's words.

That day, Anantaraya picked up six shirts and brought them. Light pink, sky blue and light green too. Kantaben couldn't believe it. 'Will you wear the color of these girls? So you didn't take me shopping? Come change. This whole walk will discuss your shirt. You're fine, you went to college and got a family. We are not here.'

Anantaraya could not finish further 'I also...' All the shirts were changed in silence. Two white, two gray and two black.

Author: Yamini Patel