The Most Painful Sentence
By Rajasir
The introduction to literary language was a severe blow to my pride which had found its firm abode in my existence. Having passed M.Sc. with flying colors, I completed M.Tech in the following two years. However, I found that something was missing in that world of mine which was totally dependent on the radio which I had and the books which I used to read. I belonged to a well to do family, so looking for job was not essential. Though majority of the boys, loaded with their degrees searched greener pastures in Europe or USA, I decided to stay back and continue my studies.
The Himalayan hills had a kind of magic in them, and I could never free myself from that attachment since my birth. Some of my friends had already taken up teaching as their profession but I decided to go for MA in English Literature.
Taking the admission as a private student was not as difficult as it was to decide from where to start, for there were so many books: history of English Literature, Linguistics, Critical theories, Poetry, dramas, novels, short stories and what not. I was not as bad at English as one might think, but the task ahead seemed to be not without extreme hard work.
Reading was my hobby but I mostly read cheap magazines, love stories and down to earth books. The course books having been purchased, dictionaries and glossary of literary terms arranged, one morning I decided, or rather resolved to inaugurate my new venture. Thinking that I was the Master of Science and technology, I should start from the masters of English literature, leaving short stories and novels for the following days. But, to my dismay, I could not comprehend, I am not trying to hide anything, what Bacon, Pope, Lawrence, Johnson Swift and the rest of the essayists wanted to say. First of all, it was very difficult to keep track of the sentences which seemed to be a jumble of strange words in a very large number between the head and the tail.
Quite confused, depressed, and not less ashamed, I switched over to the English novelists. To my amazement, the very first sentence as if knocked me down. It took me about two hours to draw my conclusion that by "My seat of consciousness, thought, volition, and feeling was deprived of vigor and vitality. “The narrator meant to say, “My mind was tired”. I gave up any further advances.
I pondered over my predicament for about two days. On third morning, my mind lit up like a thousand watt bulb. I remembered our neighbor Mr.Champaklal, who used to teach English literature but had retired recently from the college job. I had helped his son, Rohit, when he was preparing for his I.Sc.papers. The father had to be obliged to me. It was the right time and situation to ask for his favor.
Next morning, I visited his house and found that he was in bed suffering from cold. I tried to turn but he motioned me to a chair beside his bed. I related my problem, without hiding anything. He was amused, but he agreed to guide me in every possible way. He had taught the subject to college students for more than thirty years, and was an authority in that area. One strange characteristic of his was that he was very frank with his students but very reserved with his family members.
While teaching me, he often insisted on using correct and formal language. He was against the modern American words which appear as if the legs of a frog have been cut off and it has been left to croak. Champaklal’s humorous side could not remain unnoticed. The sentence like "I want to get my eyes checked" would easily be changed into "My conscience inspires me to have my visual amenities diagnosed", or in daily conversation, saying "It would delight me to extend my assistance to you" instead of simply saying “I would be happy to help you" was not at all unusual in Champaklal's language.
He was a very straight-forward man, and he hated lies and liars. No amount of sorrow could make his eyes moist; he could be seen smiling all the time. One of his unique habits was to quote the lines from the great masters of English Literature. I can not forget the day when my parents hinted me about getting married, though I had no such plans. I told Mr.Champaklal about this. His instant reply was, “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife”. I had the idea already in my mind that he would quote this famous sentence from Jane Austen's novel 'Pride and Prejudice'.
In one year, I had come to be able to guess what Mr.Champaklal's line would be after I had said something. Frankly speaking; the period spent with Mr.Lal was the most delightful for me. Leaving the world of Galileo, Newton, Einstein, etc. behind I had entered the world of William Shakespeare, Francis Bacon, D.H.Lawrence, Ben Johnson, Alexander Pope, etc. It was altogether a new life for me.
That day I felt quite thrilled when Mr.Lal beautified a love letter for me. I had written the letter, a small chit, to my beloved Gita but it had been left in between the pages of the book which I forgot to take when I left Mr.Lal's house.
The letter was:
Dearest Gita,
Today I will wait for you at the bus stop at 5pm, and I am sure that you will come to meet me.
I love you.
Ever yours
Bikram.
The modified and beautified version given to me by Mr.Lal read:
...........How much my heart yearns to have a fortunate meeting with you at 5pm at the bus stop today! The power of our love assures me that my request will not draw blank.
...............
My exam was nearing and I was deeply lost in my studies, however, in the evenings I would regularly visit Mr.Champaklal. He was a ready help with ready solutions to my all linguistic and literary impediments.
One evening when I reached his house, I found that he was sick. He had a severe stomach pain. I sat near his bed for about one hour. Finally, I persuaded him to see a doctor. I went to my house and returned with my father's car. I brought Mr.Champaklal to a doctor. The doctor examined him thoroughly and an x-ray was also taken.
Next morning I visited the doctor to collect the report. I was dumbfounded to hear what that doctor said. Mr.Champaklal had a terminal liver cancer, in last stage. It had passed the stage of the surgical cure. Mr.Champaklal had only two months to live. I could never dare to tell Mr.Champaklal about that, but I knew that he hated lies.
I struggled with my conscience for many hours, and finally wrote The Most Painful Sentence:
"The doctor's report reveals that the patient has a malady in which there has been a malignant growth in the large lobed glandular organ in the abdomen, which has crossed all the boundaries and has become incurable, but the diagnosis reveals that the time period between the present and the moment when the patient is going to breathe his last, and to leave for his heavenly abode, is about two months."I noticed that the sheet of paper was almost wet with my tears.
In the evening, when I handed the paper with my shaking hand, I could not rally courage to look in his smiling eyes. He went through the contents quickly and began to laugh loudly. He, finally, said, “That’s like my student of the English Literature!"I could not wait to hear what he had to say, and, hiding my tears, ran out of the room.
- Rajasir.
23rd July 2008
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