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Democracy

The story of a poor farmer who stands up for his right for the first time in life but gets defeated.
Narayan Dhakal
By Narayan Dhakal

Chyame’s body was completely drenched in sweat.


He hadn’t felt such heat even when he ploughed the field under the scorching June sun. The sun was so hot! If it was like this at the end of March, how was it going to be by the end of May? The time will probably not be good this time around too.


Similar thoughts were hovering in his mind at that time. He was standing by the side of the Jorpati road. The road looking like a dead snake lying prostrate led to the city. Until a few years ago, the area was pretty much deserted. But after the regular bus service of Sajha Yatayat was started, the place got a new lease of life. A number of houses were built one after another. Teashops were opened. A few wooden stalls were built. Now for the villagers living east of the city, it’s become a place to wait for the bus.


Chyame was not alone. His wife Gaunthali, who had accompanied him, was sitting next to him with her arms gripping her waist. A layer of facial dandruff had grown on her round black face. Gaunthali’s face was degrading with the passage of time.


“When will Sarbesh arrive, hajur?” Chyame asked a well-dressed man standing near him while wiping away the sweat from his forehead with a course hand.


His dress and looks suggested that the man was a resident of Kathmandu’s suburbs. Especially his mustache, his shining cap and his body-fitting daura suruwal and coat. Given his restlessness, anybody could tell that he was in a hurry. He expressed his annoyance while replying to Chyame’s question.


“They won’t be late no matter what time they arrive. It’s us who’ll be late.” 


The crowd was growing. As no bus had come for half an hour, the office-goers were getting fidgety. Chyame threw another question at the person, “What’s the time now, hajur?”


Black lines ran across his forehead after hearing Chyame’s question. Perhaps these lines represented his annoyance and irritation. This was perhaps why he looked down upon Chyame and answered brusquely, “Quarter to 10.”


But, his rude reply didn’t affect Chyame. He has been treated by the so-called ‘big people’ of society in a far worse manner. Since he never received even a shred of respect from anyone in life, disrespect hardly meant anything to him. He, therefore, took it normally and focused on the direction from which the bus would come.


Still, he had something on his mind. He wanted to let it go but he couldn’t. He must have seen this person somewhere before. But where? He knew almost everyone from his village. He pondered for a long while. Then it came to him. He had come with the lawmaker to the village last year to tell the villagers to take part in the Pancha rally at Tudikhel.


“What is this pancha rally, hajur?” he had asked the man at that time.


“Pancha rally is a procession aimed at controlling prices of fertilizers and seeds.”


“What are the other things that will happen once the pancha rally is organized?”


“What other things, you dumb fool! This is only the beginning of a democratic practice, the beginning!”


“Oh, demucracy?”


“Not demucracy. Democracy. Which means everyone is free and equal.”


“All equal? How is this possible, hajur?”


“Everyone from the village go to Tudikhel tomorrow. Then you will know.”    


At that time, it was this man who had answered most of his questions. He also went to Tudikhel. But now, that man doesn’t recognize him. How strange! Or is this another person?


“You once visited our village, didn’t you, hajur?”


“Me? In your village? Which village? When?” He was confused.


“For the rally to bring down prices and bring demucracy, don’t you remember?”


The man became a bit more alert after this question.


“Where is your village?”


“Suntakhan is my village. Have you forgotten?


“Where are you headed for now?”


“My wife is ill. I am taking her to the hospital. Where are you going?”


“Oh, see…I am going to the city. I was supposed to get there by 10. It’s an important meeting. It’s already about to strike 10 and I am still here. And again, there is not a single taxi here today.”


“And that rally did bring our demucracy, didn’t it hajur?”


The man acted as if he never heard the question. Chyame shouted again, “But things are getting more and more expensive, hajur.”


That man was perplexed for a while after Chyame’s statement. He was still looking for an answer when the bus appeared far away.


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“Look, it’s here. The bloody thing,” someone shouted.


“It’s here. It’s here.”


Then the bus drew everyone’s attention.


Somehow Chyame managed to enter the bus. Pressing her belly with both her hands, Chyame’s wife, too, entered the bus after a while. He made her wife sit on the seat he had kept for her.


A short while after the bus started to move, Chyame’s wife started crying out in a loud voice. Chyame lost his senses. Will a mess be created inside the bus! But after a while, his wife fell silent. “The bitch can’t even bear the slightest pain. If she is the wife of a poor man, she should act accordingly. This is bad behavior.” He tried to calm himself.


“You should have some patience. Will you get any better by crying?”


“Yes, I am only acting as if I am in pain,” his wife shot back.


Then he thought it would be better not to say anything.     


His wife’s condition had remained the same for the past three-four days. At times, she would twist and turn in pain. There were many days to go before the gestation period would end. He did everything he could do in the village. He brought a midwife home to see his wife. Then the village shaman. Priest Sadananda, too, was called in. He prescribed the ‘holy’ water. But nothing worked. Chyame finally decided to take her to the hospital after everyone in the village told him to do so. But the hospital…he was scared even to hear the mention of a hospital. He had been to the health post near the village on a few occasions but he had never visited a hospital in the city. A new place and strangers. This feeling made him feel a bit awkward inside when it came to hospitals.


In fact, he had left home for the hospital in the city that day with a sense of foreboding.


It was ten times hotter inside the bus than outside. When his wife was again in a fit of pain, he looked for the man he had talked to while waiting for the bus, thinking that he might be of some help. But he could not find him in the overly crowded bus. His wife kept wailing in a loud voice.   


“Should you’ve really brought a sick person onto a crowded bus like this?”


“You should’ve taken her in a taxi. She looks very serious.”


“There’s no point in being greedy about money in such a situation. But these villagers are mostly like this. An example of misery.”


Suddenly, a number of blows rained down on him. But even then, he wasn’t angry with anyone. What could he get by getting angry? So, instead, he wore a smile of helplessness. He wasn’t a miser. Why would one bear the pain if one had money?


It had been just 9-10 days since he had started going to work in the farms of the Khanals, the priests. His wife wasn’t able to work anywhere. The loan he had taken to buy millet last winter was yet to be cleared. He hadn’t got the chance to work even as a porter. So, where would he get the money to afford a taxi! All he had in the inside pocket of his tattered waistcoat was seven and a half rupees. That too, he had borrowed from Ujeli’s mother, thinking that he might need it in the city. That old woman wouldn’t have given him money if the situation had been normal. But even a heart of stone would melt in the face of such urgency.


After some time, the bus stopped at Ratnapark, its last stop. He held his wife by her arm and helped her get down the bus. When they entered through the right gate of the hospital, Chyame got excited seeing the huge hospital building, the smell from the medicines and the to and fro of patients. Confused, he moved from one end of the hospital to the other. He felt like a rudder-less ship on the sea. He was only able to reach the hospital’s emergency ward after asking 5-6 persons.   


“This is the emergency ward, isn’t it hajur?”


“Yes, why?”


“My wife… hajur. She’s been having labor pains for the past 3-4 days. We don’t know if the baby inside her is dead or alive. I did everything I could in the village but…”


He had already mentioned this to about four-five persons he had encountered in the hospital. All of them had laughed but the guard there got irritated, “Stop. Don’t blabber. Go inside.”


Baring his teeth, Chyame took Gaunthali inside. Inside, a doctor and two nurses were giggling over something. He got a scolding from the doctor after he told him about his wife.


“This is not the place to check in your patient.”


“Where is it then, hajur?”


“Outdoor. Go to the Maternity Section.”


“Where is that place?”


“I don’t know where it is. Ask the guard outside.”


After going through some hassle, the couple reached the Maternity Ward. It was a huge room with nearly half a dozen benches. The patients sitting on those benches were crying in pain. A lady doctor wearing a white gown was checking patients in a corner. In the beginning, Chyame was fed up to see all of this. He felt as if he had reached hell. But soon he forgot about it and started looking at the walls of the room where huge posters and photo frames were hung. At places, there were royal statements and political slogans. His eyes were fixed on a spot. “Democracy!” He was able to read. He did not even look at what was written after that. All of a sudden, his face lit up, as if that word was a mantra that could make a dead man come alive.      


“What happened to you?” the lady doctor asked after writing the prescription for another patient.


“Gaunthali is going through labor pains, hajur.” Chyame said everything in one breath.


The doctor signaled to a nurse and his wife was taken to a special room inside. After his wife was taken inside, Chyame stood there for a while. He was still thinking about the magical word – “Democracy means all are equal.”


After five minutes, the lady doctor and his wife came outside. His wife was sweating profusely.


“What’s the name of the patient?”


“Gaunthali Sarkini, hajur!”


“Age?”


“I don’t know exactly, hajur.”


“Where is her home?”


“Suntakhan.”


“Where is this Suntakhan?”


“Near Gokarna, hajur.”


“Ok. Buy this medicine and give it to her in the morning, afternoon and in the evening. Bring her here again after seven days.”


“Doesn’t the hospital provide this medicine, hajur?”


“We don’t have this medicine. You have to buy it in the market.”


“There is nothing seriously wrong with her, right hajur?”


“Nothing has happened to her. Everything will be all right. Now go.”


The doctor tore the prescription off the pad and gave it to him. He took the prescription and came out of the room with his wife. He asked his wife to rest on one of the benches and went outside to smoke a cigarette.  


When he came back in, his wife had started twisting and turning in pain.


“Take me home at any cost. I will die at home, even if I have to die. My condition has worsened after coming here,” his wife said, grinding her teeth.


A crowd had gathered around his wife.  


He did not react to what his wife said. But seeing her drenched in sweat, he thought her condition had become worse.


In the meanwhile, an old yet agile looking woman whose hair had turned completely grey came forward. After thoroughly looking at Chyame’s wife, she said, “They didn’t admit this patient?”


Chyame only shook his head in reply.


“They should have admitted her. Both her eyes are sunken. Today or tomorrow. She will not go beyond that for sure. Tell the doctor properly. It would be better if they admit her.”


“Where should I go and ask, hajur?”


“Is this a joke? It’s a matter of life and death. Go where she was checked and tell them. Her face shows she doesn’t have even a drop of blood.”


“Yes, say that your house is far away. Say that you are poor. They will surely admit her,” said a middle-aged woman with a protruding gold tooth.


“I am saying this for your own good. Go and tell the doctor,” having said this, the old gray haired woman left.


With heavy steps, Chyame entered the Emergency Ward. The lady doctor was not there. Perhaps she was checking another patient inside. After the lady doctor came out, Chyame joined his hands into a Namaste and politely said, “Doctor saap, perhaps my wife will not make it back home. She looks very weak. It would be a great help to poor us if you admitted her.”


“What did you say?”


“This poor person will sing your salutations until he lives, hajur!”


“There is no empty bed. You don’t have to teach me my job.”


“No, hajur. Her condition is…”


“Now don’t argue with me. I told you there is no empty bed.”


“Is there really no bed, hajur?”


“Why do you disturb me! Get out immediately?”


His face darkened and he exited the room meekly. His wife’s condition had deteriorated even further and she was twisting and turning in pain. 


“Give me water. I’m dying ...Ahhhh!” she said, letting out a loud painful cry.


He hurriedly found some water and helped her drink a few sips.


“Do you think you can get your patient admitted here if you don’t know somebody? In Nepal, you must know somebody for such things,” said the woman with the gold tooth.


Right then, a shiny red car stopped at the hospital’s front. Two well dressed women with saggy bodies and a man got out of the car. The younger of the two women looked pregnant. The other woman was holding her by the arm. They headed straight for the maternity section. Soon, the woman was seen lying on a stretcher which was being taken to the maternity ward. This incident triggered a sense of curiosity among those waiting in the verandah.


“Now see. She was admitted immediately. Such is the discrimination between big and small people,” shouted the woman with the gold tooth.


“Is it true, hajur?” Chyame was frustrated.


He still had the cigarette stub in his hand. He crushed it with his hand before throwing it on the ground.


“One should break their skulls. What to do! My illness has weakened me. Otherwise…” an old man shouted.


“Who will break their skulls? See, they are breaking our skulls, instead. You go and fight with them. How can they show such injustice? Her face shows that she doesn’t even have a drop of blood. If she survives this pain, then you can spit in my mouth. I am not a doctor but I know this much,” the woman with the gold tooth poured out her anger.      


Though Chyame was unwilling, he once again went inside after everyone told him to go. There were no more patients left inside. The lady doctor was looking at a yellow file.


“It’s a grave injustice to me, doctor saap. If something happens to my wife, my ship will sink.”


“Shouldn’t you trust me when I tell you nothing will happen? What a fool!”


“No, hajur. I will not go until my wife is admitted. Is this a country without democracy? You admitted that patient who had come after us without any hassle? How can you discriminate against us because we are poor?


This was how Chyame shouted for his rights for the first time in his life. The blood flowing in his veins was boiling. The lady doctor understood all this quickly. Still, she maintained her earlier stance and said, “That patient was admitted to a cabin for which the charge is fifty rupees per day. If you want to admit your wife, then that will cost you fifty rupees a day. Is that okay?”


“Fifty rupees a day?” said Chyame with a special emphasis on ‘fifty’.


“The general ward is packed. This is the rule for a cabin.”


Chyame didn’t know what to say. Fifty rupees was a big deal for a poor man like him.


“I will admit your patient if you are ready to pay. Otherwise, don’t come here again. Now get out! (She said in English)”


He did not understand what she said at the end. So, he kept standing there like a statue.


“GET OUT!”


Right then, a noise erupted on the verandah. Twisting and turning in pain, his wife fell from the bench onto the cement floor. She was foaming at the mouth. The woman with the gold tooth rushed towards her yelling. In no time, a crowd gathered there.


“Oh no! Give her some water. Looks like a river of blood is flowing out of her body. She is going to die now,” somebody said.


“Oh God! Her husband is inside. Somebody bring him here,” the gold-tooth woman whined. Sadly, right then Chayme’s wife let out a loud piercing cry. Her cry collided with the walls of the hospital before it melted into thin air. Then a deadly silence engulfed the whole environment. 


Chyame was still standing inside like a statue, despite the lady doctor’s nastily voiced ‘GET OUT’. Truly, he had not faced a more painful loss than this in his entire life. To fight for your right for the first time in life and get defeated. What could be more painful than this? A cabin for which you have to pay fifty rupees a day. Fifty rupees. Fifty rupees. Fifty rupees. Cabin. Cabin. Cabin. He felt as if snakes and scorpions were crawling over him. He looked at the national slogan written on the hospital wall again. Now only dreadful images resembling ghosts were left there. Those images started moving towards him slowly. They surrounded him from all sides and he became blind for a while.


 


(Note: This story was written some 38 years ago in 2035 BS during the Panchayat System. Translated by Akhilesh Tripathi)  


 

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