Till he was with his parents, Shreyak, the youngest of the three children did not show any promise for which the parents could be proud of. There was not a single act to his credit which they could narrate to their friends and relatives with pride. How they wished, they could tell, ‘Look, our youngest child Shreyak who was considered to be a mediocre has achieved such distinction! We did not have the faintest idea that he has such talent!’
The parents wished he would join Indian Administrative Service in the first attempt or get admitted to a good overseas University with a scholarship to pursue higher studies. But wishes are wishes. In reality, they were convinced that Shreyak had nothing extra-ordinary in him. They doubted if he was above average. It was logical.
At young age he did not mind his studies. He did not understand the value of education; nor did he care for the advice of his parents unlike his brother Sarvak and sister Sarvani, who considered parents’ advice as the ultimate. When asked to sit down for home work, he would feign headache, stomach pain or some similar complain. He could not sit with concentration for a few minutes to do his lessons.
He had no interest in games either, be it outdoor or indoor. How they wished him to be a good player, at least! He would then be able to earn a decent livelihood! He would get acclamation from many quarters. But he never set his feet on a playground, be it cricket, football, badminton or tennis.
He loved to do such things that were out of thought of others in the family. He loved to draw sketches and portraits; loved to mimic the call of birds; and to watch them for hours. He loved to talk to the flowers, the trees, even to the wind and the sky.
His father Sheshadeva was a professor of cardiology in a medical college, mother Sumitra taught in a college as a Senior Lecturer. The environment in the house was conducive to studies, yet Shreyak had no interest in it. Sumitra noted this from early days, when Shreyak was initiated to alphabets.
Sumitra was surprised. The parents felt sad when they compared the boy with their other two children. On few occasions this issue was discussed with close friends and relatives. Somebody even once suggested that probably the boy was exchanged in the hospital at birth!
The doubt also arose in Sumitra’s mind at times. Such things do happen in hospitals.
But then, what about his features? All the children of Sumitra were good looking.
Shreyak was the best. The boy was a carbon copy of his father. He inherited his maternal grandfather’s features; the same colour of the skin, the same nose and the eyes, specially the shape of the eyes. Sumitra’s father was a materialistic man, always weighed gains and losses. His eyes were sharp and penetrating. His look had great intensity. But Shreyak’s eyes, on the other hand, were full of dreams.
He was a peculiar child. He might be looking at you, but would not see you. He was always lost in his own world. He was indifferent to the family, his environment.
Sumitra did not take it seriously then. Sheshadeva was just at the initial rung of the ladder of his profession; so also Sumitra. The talent of the other two children was beginning to be noticed.
Sumitra called him aside one day, ‘Look, dear, if you concentrate in your studies, you can also stand first in your class, as do your brother and sister. I know you have the potential.’
Before she could finish, he intervened, ‘Yes I don’t stand first in the Class, but I am first in the School! Wherever I have represented the School, I have secured the first position.’
The statement was true. He was good at drawing. He made beautiful drawing with pencil in no time. Whether it was within the School or inter School, he stood first in all drawing competitions he participated in.
Sumitra brought this to the notice of Sheshadeva, ‘He has a good hand for drawing, doing really well at his age. Hope he will do much better when he grew up.’ Sheshadeva’s quick retort doused her enthusiasm, ‘Your son will be a good drawing teacher in a school, what else?’ It hurt Sumitra. He had snubbed the talent of the child.
As time passed, all members of the family rose in their respective fields, except the youngest.
The gulf between Shreyak and other members of the family widened. Sreyak was in his adolescence. Sumitra still hoped that he would mend his ways; he won’t simply be a drawing teacher. She tried her best to put him in the traditional road to success. But nothing worked. Advice of the elders and success story of the brother and sister had no effect on him. He never tried to emulate them.
Sumitra lost hope. She drifted away from family affairs as her official responsibility increased. The other two children were on highway to success. She resigned to fate; Shreyak would end up as a drawing teacher in a school.
Sumitra was no more worried for Shreyak. He was not in the good book of his father. He had no love for his father also. Only the mother mattered to him to some extent. When she stopped worrying for Shreyak and got isolated from him, he felt relieved, free. He could do whatever he liked.
His food habit was peculiar. Normally, during day time, members of the family take their food as per convenience. Sheshadeva and Sarvani take their lunch in time, in proper manner. The elder son prefers to have it in his room. Sumitra does not get time to sit down and eat. She eats in the kitchen most often, while giving instruction to the cook on menu of the next meal. Shreyak is not seen during lunch time. He would sneak into the kitchen late afternoon to eat whatever is kept aside for him. At dinner time they all assemble at the dining table and take dinner in the proper manner under the watchful eyes of Sumitra. Shreyak, though joins them as a routine, never takes part in discussion or banter. He finishes his dinner much ahead of others, but waits for them to finish before leaving the table. In his waiting there is neither dissatisfaction nor grudge; only disinterestedness and indifference.
For last few days, Shreyak was absent at the dining table. None other than Sumitra
took note of it. When asked, the cook informed her that he had finished his dinner early as he was tired and wanted to sleep. After a few days Sumitra took it as a routine. She did not pursue the matter further.
Gradually the family forgot him. When he came in or went out, whether he took his food or not; these questions were neither asked nor replied. Only the cook knew that he took his food, but at irregular hour.
Sarvak left to enrol in IIT, Mumbai. The room shared by the two brothers was now exclusively Shreyak’s. Sumitra did not enter that room after Sarvak left. When both the brothers were sharing that room, Sumitra used to go there whenever she could, to change the bed sheet, make the bed and organise the belongings; particularly Sarvak’s as he was unmindful of those chores. On such occasions she invariably noticed that Shreyak’s books and note books were just in the same place as she left them in her last visit to the room; with a layer of dust over them.
She was confirmed that he did not open a single book. His table near the window facing the garden would also be full of dust. Obviously he did not use it for studies. On the other hand, she found a number of books on his bed. Out of curiosity Sumitra opened some to find that they were the life history of renowned artists and painters, and commentaries on their works; artists of different countries and different times. Probably he read them. The same book was not found each time she visited the room. She wandered how and where he got those books from. But, one thing was sure; he was irregular in opening his regular course books.
Sumitra had no eagerness to organise the belongings of Shreyak. Where to start? There was no dearth of space for him even when he was sharing the room with his brother. The room was a big one. But his whole world was confined to his bed. He slept over the bed cover, without ever changing it himself. A good portion of the bed was utilised for keeping books and periodicals. On the top of it, his pen, belt, wrist watch were also kept there. He had a habit of spreading his towel on the bed. His shoes, with socks stuffed inside, were kept beneath the bed.
Sumitra dared not open his cupboard. She wandered if it was opened, ever. He was always seen with jeans and T shirt. He probably never used a third jean or a third T shirt. She knew that Shreyak always slept with jean and T shirt on. His habit was to push his books to one side to make room for sleeping.
As he grew up, his requirements diminished. In that big house and large room he confined himself to bed only. Year after year he went up to higher class. His progress report was not up to the expectation of the family, but for others, it was OK.
Sarvak moved to the USA for higher studies on a scholarship, after passing out from the IIT with distinction. Sarvani also topped the MBBS examination with gold medal in five subjects. She created a university record. The same year, Shreyak completed his graduation in Philosophy with Second Class Honours.
He dropped a bombshell. He told his mother that he would sit for the competitive examination. Sumitra was pleasantly surprised, but his father took it lightly. His comment was that Philosophy students hardly succeed; had he chosen Economics or Political Science, there was some chance.
Shreyak calmly replied that Indian Administrative Service was not in his mind; he was thinking of Bank Recruitment Board Examination. Sheshadeva kept quiet. Sumitra took it easy; something is better than nothing. It is better to an assistant in a Bank than a drawing teacher in a School. Shreyak had not completed what he wanted to say, so felt Sumitra from his gesture and facial expression. She saw her younger son from close quarters after a long gap.
He looked older than his age, had grown tall; or, did he look tall because he was lean and thin? His eyes were deep inside the sockets, his chick bone protruded, the lips were dry. He looked like a skeleton with a cover of skin. He did not look at her straight in to her eyes, but she felt the earlier dreams were no more in his eyes.
Her motherhood stirred. She was about to say something; but her position as the Principal of a renowned college prevailed upon her. This was not the time to show motherly affection. The boy has secured second class honours; this itself indicates he studied reasonably well. Regaining health will not take much time.
Responding to Shreyak’s disturbed mood, she asked softly, ‘You want to say something?’
‘If you permit me, I would go to Delhi to pursue my studies there. I contacted Asis bhai. He stays in the University hostel, and preparing for the IAS examination also. He won’t mind if I stay in his room.’
Sheshadeva liked the proposition. He was happy at the farsightedness of his son whom he considered a dullard. In the atmosphere of Delhi University even a dullard would improve. Shreyak was, perhaps, not a dullard; he just did not concentrate in his studies, he thought.
As Shreyak left, both Sumitra and Sheshadeva sighed a relief. At last the boy’s good sense prevailed and he chose the right path.
Has ‘good sense’ or ‘bad sense’ a universal definition? Why was that, while the definition of outstanding person as expounded by Sheshadeva and Sumitra was acceptable to the elder son and daughter, was rejected by the younger son? Both of them were well aware of this; but at the spur of the moment they took it for granted that the boy, who so far had rebelled against them, had now come back to his good sense and accepted their view.
It was too late when they realised their folly. Their obscure younger son had reached the point of no return.
Asis was the first to break the news. He himself was so shocked that he broke down. The letter describing the incident in details followed. It was difficult to read the letter; but had to be read with courage and fortitude to know the facts completely. Asis had not even an iota of suspicion as to what was lurking in the mind of Shreyak. He used to rush to his coaching centre after attending classes in the University. In between, if he found time, he spent it in the library. So, he hardly met him even though they shared the room. Rarely had they a chat. By the time Asis returned to his room, Shreyak would be sleeping; and in the morning, when he woke up, Shreyak would be out for his morning walk. So Asis had no inkling of Shreyak’s plan until it was executed.
Shreyak committed suicide.
He did not blame it on anybody, directly or indirectly. In his suicidal note he clearly wrote his intention. He found his life useless. He decided to commit suicide so that after his death, the organs in his body may be utilised to mitigate the suffering of some people. He had donated his eyes, kidney and the heart. He also requested the police and the hospital to dispose off the body without waiting for any claimant.
Asis further wrote that with due deference to the request, the doctors of the hospital had taken out the donated parts from his body and rearranged it so well that Shreyak appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Police performed the last rites as per the wishes of the deceased and handed over the ashes to Asis for immersion.
Sheshadeva and Sumitra were stunned. There was no tear in the eyes, nor did they cry. They were dumbfounded.
Some days after the incident, Sumitra opened the room of Shreyak. She dusted the books on the table. When she opened the table drawer to keep them, she was surprised to find it full of Shreyak’s paintings. She cleaned and scrutinised each of them. He had drawn the house, the garden; the portraits of his father, mother, brother and sister; and also, his own. Below the painting of Sheshadeva and Sumitra, the caption was: ’Worshipful father and mother, who created me’. Under the portrait of Sarvak and Sarvani he wrote, ‘ My dear brother and sister, without you I would be lonely’
Sumitra had not seen any portrait with such concentration. She felt the painting had life and for the first time she felt Shreyak had given everything he had while painting those portraits.
She cleaned again each of the portraits with the pallu of her sari and arranged them neatly. She opened another drawer. It was full of certificates praising his performance and invitations from different art galleries to participate and organise art exhibitions.
Sumitra gave out a sigh. She decided to clean the bed. Shreyak’s bed and other belongings were not touched since he left for Delhi. She had not entered the room after his departure.
She dusted all the books and arranged them neatly. She then took out the bed cover. It was so full of dust that she took it out to the open for dusting. She made the bed and in the process, found a piece of paper neatly folded. She picked it up and found that it was a small letter addressed to her.
Her heart beat increased. Her hands trembled as she opened it. There were no tears in her eyes, yet the writing looked hazy.
He wrote, ‘Ma, you tried to shape my life the way you thought best, but I could not measure up to that. I had all the potential but could not utilise them. Will it not be a good thing if all those which constitute my potential be of use to others; if others benefit from them?’
She could not continue. She cried out in great anguish. Sheshadeva came running to her. Sumitra was dashing her head against the bed like a mad person, the letter in her hand.
Sheshadeva took her in his embrace. He read the letter. Tears started flowing; when his tears fell on Sumitra’s cheek, she looked at him. All her accumulated anguish rolled out as tears. None talked, but each understood the language of tears of the other. Suchitra thought - She is being given the credit for making good human beings out of the young human creatures, but does she really possess such qualities?
Sheshadeva was thinking in his own line- He has repaired many hearts, got appreciations also. What he knows is that it is a pump to pump blood in to the system. Till today he did not understand the real heart of a man.
One day Sumitra was surprised to get three letters from three unknown persons of three different places. The first letter came from Rohtak in Punjab. It was addressed to both Sumitra and Sheshadeva as ‘Madam’ and ‘ Sir’. She read out the letter to Sheshadeva. A twenty four year old university student, Rajesh his name, wrote that he had lost his eyes in an accident. He has regained his vision with the grafted eyes so graciously donated by their son. He cannot convey his gratitude to the donor, but would remain grateful to his god-like parents. He expressed his desire to visit them to touch their feet. In the post script he mentioned that the delay in writing to them was due to the delay in getting the address from the hospital and he may be excused for expressing his gratitude so late.
The second letter came from Bhavnagar in Gujurat. Jayanti Ben and Babu Bhai Desai wrote to inform that their daughter whose heart was almost defunct was now doing fine with the grafted heart donated by their son. They were grateful to the donor and his parents.
The third letter came from Jaipur, Rajasthan. A lecturer, Vikram Singh wrote to inform them that he had lost hope but for the extraordinary donation of their son. He also expressed his desire to visit them to pay his respect personally
After reading the three letters Sumitra’s eyes were filled with tears. Her son had brought succour to three lives at the cost of his own. She said to Sheshadeva, ‘See, our son is not lost. He is very much alive; only he has distributed himself among these three.’
# This Short story originally written in Odia by Indulata Mohanty and translated into English by Rabinarayan Patnaik
