Fathomless

Two concrete benches were the only amenities available in the lonely platform at the small railway station. Adinath arrived exactly at 9 a.m. but his train was running three hours late. Both the benches were unoccupied and he made himself comfortable on one. Adinath, a city dweller, visited his village every weekend and was now returning to his workplace. His had a storybook for use during the tedious journey but he preferred to sit back and wait.
Soon a second man came and occupied the other end of the bench. Both preserved the stoic stillness till a third walked up noisily and plonked himself in the space between the two.
The third man not bothering about an introduction, turned to Adinath and said in an impatient tone:
“Unless I return to town my work will greatly suffer. Three hours’ delay is equivalent to a day’s loss.” Adinath thought that this man might provide him with the story he was looking for and said-“ By any chance, are you a contractor?”
“ Right sir, I inherited the company from my father. But how can I fulfill the expectations of so many people?” Adinath was now sure a story was on the anvil. He asked: “Do you face a liquidity crisis these days?”
“No sir, I was talking about the expectations of officers. The problem was there earlier too, but there was a limit. Now, even one third of what is spent by the authorities does not reach where it should. Most of it goes to satisfy the fathomless greed of the officers.”  
“Are you unable to carry on business if you do not bribe the powers that be?” Adinath wanted to know. 
“Exactly. And now, the officers’ wives demand favours too.  They  ask for food packets and sweets and what not! The other day I settled the bill for a gall bladder operation of one such lady at a renowned nursing home. The amount was around fifty thousand rupees.” After a pause, he added:
“ The officer released a substantial amount from my outstanding bill as a reciprocating gesture.”
“ So the account was then settled… What then is your grievance?” enquired Adinath.
“ I have no complaint on that account. But the officer’s wife humiliated me. She ordered me to send sweets to her neighbours who had wished her a speedy recovery. Is it fair sir?”
“Do you have any other case to prove your point?”- Adinath was curious.
Before the man could think of an appropriate reply, the second man – who had been sitting quietly so far- intervened: “ I have been listening to you both with interest.” Addressing the contractor, he said: “Whatever you say is absolutely true, sir… If you permit me, I can tell you about the love affair of one such memsahib.”
The third man’s face had peck marks of all over. His teeth were worn off at places making them look irregular and broken. He was dark, heavily built and spoke the local dialect. “I am a businessman by caste – Aggarwal, to be precise.  A humble shop is what I have for earning a livelihood.  I came to know about this story from a friend, also a contractor in the colliery field. But whether you can call this a love story or a saga depicting fathomless urge for sensual pleasure is for you to decide. I can only lay bare the facts.”
The halts in between sentences, the smile, the look, the worn out teeth, all suggested that the man had crossed many a hurdle in life. Was he telling his own story?
Aggarwal began: “Babuji   told us about the illegal transactions between contractors and officers. But I shall now tell you what awaits the beneficiaries of such transactions.”
Adinath interrupted: “ Please start from the very beginning. I am a poor listener, you know.”
Aggarwal resumed his story: “My friend’s officer was a newly married man. The wife, a vivacious woman, wanted a separate car. As soon as my friend the got a hint of this, he was most willing to oblige. The officer had to specify only three things- make, model and colour. After consulting his wife, he informed my that a red car of a popular model would be fine. The car was in the officer’s garage in no time.”
” And then?” asked Adinath.
Aggarwal continued: “ A driver had to be arranged for training madam to learn how to steer the wheel.”
“Then the problem must have been solved, after all. Your friend must have bagged a lucrative order in return.” Adinath, failed to foresee any story developing.  The third man by this time had completed the calculation as to how much would be the order value to account for the car:” Your friend must have been rewarded with a contract of not less than ten million. Isn’t that so?”
“Only for the time being.” - said Aggarwal. “ Very soon my friend began to doubt that madam had illicit affairs. The driver who was training her told him about many minor incidents. My friend even engaged a detective to monitor the movements of the lady. To his surprise, it was discovered that she was involved with the milkman. This ruffian was obliging her by satisfying her desire for sex.”
Adinath now sensed that the story was taking a turn towards obscenity. It was below his dignity to listen to such accounts from strangers. But the story could not be stopped at this stage.  He could not change the course of events even if he wished to.
The third man, however, was impatient to get to the bottom of it all and asked: “What happened next?”
Aggarwal smiled, as if in anticipation that Adinath would reciprocate, recognizing him as a master storyteller.
“ The milkman visited madam almost everyday when the husband was not in the house. My friend duly reported the matter to the officer. One day they reached the bungalow unannounced and caught the two red handed.” he said gravely. Aggarwal looked down as if feeling the intensity of the situation.
“Did they call the police?” asked the noisy man. 
“So far as I know, police has nothing to do in such cases. If two adults willingly engage themselves in a relationship what can anyone do? Is it not sir? The police act on complaints only.”
 “Yes. That is what I meant. Didn’t  the officer lodge a complaint? He had a witness too. He could have  easily obtained a divorce…” said the third man.
“He did not have a lawyer in tow. The officer and my friend were so stunned that they were not in a normal frame of mind. The officer was silent. God only knows what was going on in his mind. But his wife didn’t seem repentant. She remained quite unruffled.”  
“ After the initial shock subsided, the officer asked his wife to pack up. The woman obeyed and packed all her belongings. All the four of them got into the new red car and drove off, but only after the officer ordered the driver of his own car to follow.” Aggarwal was gradually winding up his story.
“ Where were they heading?”- The third man couldn’t keep still.

“They went to the milkman’s khatal (shed). The officer left his wife there with her paramour, the new car and all her belongings. The others came back to the bungalow. My friend had some other job to attend to and left the place after a while.
I know the events only up to this point. Beyond this nobody knew what happened.” Aggarwal was visibly over with his narration. 
“Oh no! You can’t leave the story unfinished.” Cried the third man.
“Tell me what happened after that!”
Aggarwal suddenly narrowed his eyes. And after a pause said in a low voice:
“The burnt car of the officer with a charred body inside was found the next morning. Nobody knew for certain whether the body belonged to the officer or not, but the man was never seen again.”  
“ And what happened to the woman?”
“She married the milkman and completely changed her life style. She gave birth to a series of children. Whenever drunk, the milkman beat her and wept for the good officer.”
Adinath shifted slightly as if not wanting to disturb the atmosphere.
Just then, the train’s arrival was announced over the public address system.

                                                                             The End

This story is one of a dozen stories of the e-book "Diabetes and other stories" that can be downloaded on line from the link:

http://www.angelfire.com/blog/1stimers/index1.html