Parting present

ON Tuesday morning, ten days later, Swaminathan rose from bed with a great
effort of will at five o'clock. There was still an hour for the train to arrive at the
Malgudi Station and leave it four minutes later, carrying away Rajam, for ever.
Swaminathan had not known that this was to happen till Mani came and
told him, on the previous night at about ten, that Rajam's father was transferred -to
Trichinopoly and the whole family would be leaving Malgudi on the following
morning. Mani said that he had known it for about a week, but Rajam had strictly
forbidden him to say anything about it to Swaminathan. But at the last moment
Mani could not contain himself and had violated Rajam's ban.
A great sense of desolation seized Swaminathan at once. The world
seemed to have become blank all of a sudden. The thought of Lawley Extension
without Rajam appalled him with its emptiness. He swore that he would never go
there again. He raved at Mani. And Mani bore it patiently. Swaminathan could not
think of a world without Rajam. What was he to do in the evenings? How was he to
spend the holiday afternoons? Whom was he to think of as his friend?
At the same time he was filled with a sense of guilt: he had not gone and
seen Rajam even once after his return. Fear, shame, a feeling of uncertainty, had
made him postpone his visit to Rajam day after day. Twice he had gone up to the
gate of Rajam's house, but had turned back, his courage and determination giving
way at the last moment. He was in this state, hoping to see Rajam every to-
morrow, when Mani came to him with the shattering news. Swaminathan wanted to
rush up to Rajam's house that very second and claim him once again. But--but--he
felt awkward and shirked. Tomorrow morning at the station. The train was leaving
at six. He would go to the station at five.
'Mani, will you call me at five to-morrow morning?'
'No. I am going to sleep in Rajam's house, and go with him to the station.'
For a moment Swaminathan was filled with the darkest jealousy. Mani to
sleep in Rajam's house, keep him company till the last moment, talk and laugh till
midnight, and he to be excluded! He wanted to cling to Mani desperately and stop
his going.
When Mani left, Swaminathan went in, opened his dealwood box, and
stood gazing into it. He wanted to pick out something that could be presented to
Rajam on the following morning. The contents of the box were a confused heap of
odds and ends of all metals and materials. Here a cardboard box that had once
touched Swaminathan's fancy, and there a toy watch, a catalogue, some picture
books, nuts and bolts, disused insignificant parts of defunct machinery, and so on
to the brim. He rummaged in it for half an hour, but there seemed to be nothing in it
worth taking to Rajam. The only decent object in it was a green engine given to him
over a year ago by Rajam. The sight of it, now dented and chipped in a couple of
places and lying between an empty thread-reel and a broken porcelain vase,
stirred in him vivid memories. He became maudlin.... He wondered if he would
have to return that engine to Rajam now that they were no longer friends. He
picked it up to take it with him to the station and return it to Rajam. On second
thoughts, he put it back, partly because he loved the engine very much, partly
because he told himself that it might be an insult to reject a present after such a
long time.... Rajam was a good reader, and Swaminathan decided to give him a
book. He could not obviously give him any of th e text-books. He took out the only
book that he respected (as the fact of his separating it from the text-books on his
desk and giving it a place in the dealwood box showed). It was a neat tiny volume
of Andersen's Fairy Tales that his father had bought in Madras years ago for him.
He could never get through the book to his satisfaction. There were too many unknown unpronounceable English words in it. He would give this book to Rajam.
He went to his desk and wrote on the fly-leaf 'To my dearest friend Rajam'.
Malgudi Station was half dark when Swaminathan reached it with the tiny
volume of Andersen's Fairy Tales in his hand. The Station Master was just out of
bed and was working at the table with a kerosene light, not minding in the least the
telegraph keys that were tapping away endless messages to the dawn.
A car drew up outside. Swaminathan saw Rajam, his father, mother,
someone he did not know, and Mani, getting down. Swaminathan shrank at the
sight of Rajam. All his determination oozed out as he saw the captain approach the
platform, dressed like a 'European boy'. His very dress and tidiness made
Swaminathan feel inferior and small. He shrank back and tried to make himself
inconspicuous.
Almost immediately, the platform officers and policemen. Rajam was
unapproachable. He was standing with his father in the middle of a cluster of
people in uniform. All that Swaminathan could see of Rajam was his left leg,
through a gap between two policemen. Even that was obstructed when the
policemen drew closer. Swaminathan went round, in search of further gaps.
The train was sighted. There was at once a great bustle.
The train hissed and boomed into the platform. The hustle and activity
increased. Rajam and his party moved to the edge of the platform. Things were
dragged and pushed into a Second Class compartment with desperate haste by a
dozen policemen. Rajam's mother got in. Rajam and his father were standing
outside the compartment. The police officers now barricaded them completely,
bidding them farewell and garlanding them. There was a momentary glimpse of
Rajam with a huge rose garland round his neck.
Swaminathan looked for, and found Mani. 'Mani, Rajam is going away.'
'Yes, Swami, he is going away.'
'Mani, will Rajam speak to me?'
'Oh, yes. Why not?' asked Mani.
Now Rajam and his father had got into the compartment. The door was
closed and the door-handle turned.
'Mani, this book must be given to Rajam.' Swaminathan said. Mani saw
that there was no time to lose. The bell rang. They desperately pushed their way
through the crowd and stood under a window. Swaminathan could hardly see
anything above. His head hardly came up to the door-handle.
The crowd pressed from behind. Mani shouted into the compartment: 'Here
is Swami to bid you good-bye.' Swaminathan stood on his toes. A head leaned
over the window and said: 'Good-bye, my Mani. Don't forget me. Write to me.
'Good-bye friend.... Here is Swami,' Mani said. Rajam craned his neck.
Swaminathan's upturned eyes met his. At the sight of the familiar face
Swaminathan lost control of himself and cried: 'Oh, Rajam, Rajam, you are going
away, away. When will you come back?' Rajam kept looking at him without a word
and then (as it seemed to Swaminathan) opened his mouth to say something,
when everything was disturbed by the guard's blast and the hoarse whistle of the
engine. There was a slight rattling of chains, a tremendous hissing, and the train
began to move. Rajam's face, with the words still unuttered on his lips, receded.
Swaminathan became desperate and blurted: 'Oh, Mani! This book must be given
to him,' and pressed the book into Mani's hand. Mani ran along the platform with
the train and shouted over the noise of the train: 'Good-bye, Rajam. Swami gives
you this book.' Rajam held out his hand for the book, and took it, and waved a
farewell. Swaminathan waved back frantically.
Swaminathan and Mani stood as if glued, where they were, and watched
the train. The small red lamp of the last van could be seen for a long time, it
diminished in size every minute, and disappeared around a bend. All the jarring,
raiding, clanking, spurting, and hissing of the moving train softened in the distance
into something that was half a sob and half a sigh. Swaminathan said: 'Mani, I am glad he has taken the book. Mani, he waved to me. He was about to say something
when the train started. Mani, he did wave to me and to me alone. Don't deny it.'
'Yes, yes,' Mani agreed.
Swaminathan broke down and sobbed.
Mani said: 'Don't be foolish, Swami.'
'Does he ever think of me now?' Swaminathan asked hysterically.
'Oh, yes,' said Mani. He paused and added: 'Don't worry.
If he has not talked to you, he will write to you.' What do you mean?'
'He told me so,' Mani said.
'But he does not know my address.'
'He asked me, and I have given it,' said Mani.
'No. No. It is a lie. Come on, tell me, what is my address?'
'It is--it is--never mind what.... I have given it to Rajam.'
Swaminathan looked up and gazed on Mani's face to find out whether Mani
was joking or was in earnest. But for once Mani's face had become inscrutable.




                The End