Saadat Manto - My Name Is Radha

Karim left. Sharda came in with Munni in her arms. Nazir gave her five rupees, but she declined. Nazir smiled. ‘What’s this, am I not her father? Why are you refusing?’

Sharda very quietly took the money. Whereas earlier she had seemed quite talkative, now she was unusually quiet and reticent. He took Munni in his arms, kissed her. As he was leaving, he said, ‘Well then, Sharda, I have to go now. If not tomorrow, I’ll come the day after.’

Nazir showed up the very next day. Sharda had slaked his sexual appetite so well, and returned his passion with such an unalloyed spirit of giving that he was completely swept away. He paid Karim the amount due, had him bring a bottle, and sat down with Sharda. He asked her to join him in drinking, but she said, ‘I told you that was the first and last time.’

Nazir continued drinking alone. From eleven in the morning till seven in the evening he remained closeted with Sharda. He returned home feeling extremely sated, even more than the day before. Despite her very plain looks and unusual reticence, Sharda had completely overwhelmed his sensual appetites. Time after time he wondered, ‘What kind of woman is she? Never before in my life have I seen a woman so undemonstrative yet so sensuous.’

He started visiting her every second day. She had no interest in money, nor did she ever mention it to him. Nazir paid sixty rupees to Karim, who paid ten for the room and deducted seventeen as his commission. But Sharda never mentioned it to Nazir.

Two months went by. Nazir had practically exhausted his budget. He also noticed that his association with Sharda was beginning to affect his marital life. Every time he slept with his wife, he felt that something was missing. He wanted Sharda in her place. This wasn’t a good thing. Being conscious of the impropriety, he desperately wished that his affair with Sharda would somehow end. Eventually, he himself brought up the matter with her. ‘Sharda,’ he said, ‘I’m a married man. All my savings are gone. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to give you up, but at the same time I never want to come here again.’

Sharda was quiet for some time after he spoke. Then she broke her silence. ‘Whatever money I’ve saved, you can have it. Just let me keep enough for the train fare back to Jaipur for me and Shakuntala.’

He kissed her and said, ‘Don’t be silly. You don’t seem to get my meaning. If I can’t see you any more it’s because I’ve run out of money. I was wondering how I might continue to see you despite that.’

She didn’t say anything. When he came to the hotel the next day after borrowing money from a friend, Karim told him Sharda was all set to leave for Jaipur. When Nazir sent for her, she didn’t come. Instead she gave Karim a wad of banknotes for him with the message, ‘Please, accept this and write down your address for me.’

Nazir gave his address to Karim, but returned the money. Sharda came with Munni in her arms. She greeted him with ‘Aadaab’ and then told him, ‘I’m returning to Jaipur this evening.’

‘But why?’

Her answer was brief: ‘I don’t know.’ Then she left.

Nazir asked Karim to send her back, but she didn’t come. Nazir left with the strange feeling that his body had gone completely cold; she had abandoned him without really answering his question.

She had gone away. She really had. Karim was terribly upset. He complained, ‘Nazir Sahib, why did you let her go?’

‘Friend, I’m not some seth loaded with money,’ he replied. ‘How could I possibly spend fifty rupees every other day, plus another ten for the room, thirty for a bottle, and a little extra as well. I’ve drifted into bankruptcy. By God, I’m in debt.’

Karim was quiet.

‘I couldn’t help it. . I couldn’t have gone on like this.’

‘Nazir Sahib, she loved you.’

Nazir knew nothing about love. He only knew that Sharda was generous in giving of herself physically. She was the perfect answer to his sensual needs. Beyond that he knew next to nothing about her, except that she had once mentioned in passing that her husband had been a sucker for pleasure. He had left her because she couldn’t conceive for two years, but Munni came along within nine months of their parting. She so resembled her father.

Sharda had taken Shakuntala along. She wanted her sister to get married and live a respectable life. She was very fond of her. Karim had tried hard to get Shakuntala started in the oldest profession. There was no dearth of ‘passengers’ willing to pay two hundred rupees for a night, but Sharda wouldn’t allow it and would start quarrelling with Karim. And when Karim taunted her, saying, ‘What exactly do you think you’re doing?’ she would shout back, ‘If you weren’t in the middle, I wouldn’t do it! I would never let Nazir Sahib spend a penny.’

Once, she had asked Nazir for his photograph so he had brought one from home and given it to her. She had taken it with her to Jaipur. She had never spoken to him about her love for him. Whenever he was in bed with her, she remained totally silent. Nazir would try to provoke her into speaking but to no avail. He only knew that she never held back in giving herself to him physically. At least in that she was sincerity personified.

Nazir felt a sense of relief at Sharda’s departure. She had gravely affected his relationship with his wife. If she had stayed much longer, chances were that he would have become entirely indifferent to his wife. However, as time passed, Nazir slowly reverted to his old life and the memory of Sharda’s touch gradually began to fade from his body.

One day, exactly a fortnight after Sharda left, Nazir was at home busy doing some office work. His wife, who usually collected and opened the morning mail, brought an envelope over to him saying, ‘Can’t tell whether this is in Hindi or Gujarati.’

Nazir looked at the letter and put it aside in the tray, unable to make out the language. A short while later his wife called her younger sister Naima. As soon as Naima appeared she handed her the letter. ‘Perhaps you can read it; you know both Hindi and Gujarati. What does it say?’

Naima glanced at it and said, ‘It’s Hindi,’ and started to read: ‘Jaipur. . Dear Nazir Sahib. .’ She stopped. Nazir started. Naima read another line, ‘Aadaab. You must have forgotten me. But ever since I’ve come back here, I’ve been thinking of you. .’ Naima blushed and quickly turned the page over. ‘It is from some Sharda,’ she said.

Nazir rose quickly, snatched the letter from Naima’s hand, and said to his wife, ‘God knows who it is. I’m going out. I’ll have it read and transcribed into Urdu.’ Without letting his wife say anything, he left the house. He went to a friend and had him rewrite the same letter in Hindi on identical paper and with ink of the same colour, keeping the opening sentences intact but altering the rest of the contents so that it read to the effect that Sharda had met him at Bombay Central and was delighted to have met such an illustrious artist, and so on.

That evening, he gave the new letter to his wife and read out the Urdu translation. When she asked who this Sharda was, he said, ‘A while back I went to the station to see off a friend who knew this girl called Sharda. She was standing on the platform. My friend introduced us. She is a painter too.’

The matter ended there. But the very next day he got another letter from her, which he subjected to the same treatment. He immediately sent a telegram to Sharda advising her to stop sending letters and wait for his new address. At the post office he instructed the mailman for his area to hold back any mail from Jaipur and keep it with him. He would come every morning and collect it himself. He received three more letters in this manner. Afterwards Sharda wrote to him in care of a friend of his.