Saadat Manto - My Name Is Radha

He pinched her ample bottom hard, making her flinch. She withdrew to one side. ‘Don’t do that, Eshar saiyaan, it hurts.’

He went over to her and pulled her upper lip between his and started to nibble at it. She melted away. He took off his shirt and tossed it away, saying, ‘Well then, let’s get on with a round of trumps.’

Her upper lip began to quiver with anticipation. With one quick movement Eshar Singh peeled off her shirt like an experienced butcher pulling the hide right off the body of a slaughtered animal in a single perfect motion. Staring lasciviously at her naked form, Eshar pinched her arm and said, ‘Kalwant, I swear by Wahe Guru, you’re one hell of a delicious woman!’

Kalwant looked at the red welt slowly appearing on her arm. ‘You’re really a brute, Eshar saiyaan.’

He laughed through his bushy moustache. ‘So let brutality reign tonight,’ and with that he launched into more of the same. He scraped his teeth against her upper lip, nibbled at her earlobes, ravaged her voluptuous breasts, whacked her bottom resoundingly, kissed her cheeks raw, sucked her nipples so much that the drool was smeared over her entire chest, until she began to boil. But none of this foreplay helped rouse him, to create even the slightest tremor of passion. Like a beaten wrestler flat on his back, he tried all the holds and manoeuvres he knew. None worked. Taut as a string ready to be strummed, and frustrated with all these unnecessary preliminaries, Kalwant Kaur said, ‘That’s enough shuffling, Eshar saiyaan, throw the card now!’

Eshar Singh felt as though the entire deck had slipped from his hands, and plopped down on to the floor. He gasped and threw himself down beside Kalwant Kaur, his forehead drenched in a cold sweat. Kalwant Kaur made frantic efforts to instil some passion into him but failed. So far everything had proceeded without a word, but when her overheated female parts didn’t receive the expected gratification, she got out of bed in a huff. Pulling the sheet hanging from the peg, she quickly threw it around herself. Her nostrils flared and she fumed. ‘Eshar saiyaan, who’s the bitch you’ve been with who’s squeezed you dry?’

Eshar Singh remained in bed, panting, and didn’t answer.

She exploded angrily, ‘I’m asking you — who’s the whore? Your lover, your trump card?’

‘No one, Kalwant,’ Eshar Singh mumbled, his voice sounding drained, ‘no one.’

With her arms akimbo Kalwant Kaur thundered resolutely, ‘Eshar saiyaan, I’ll get the truth out of you today, I swear by Wahe Guru. Isn’t there a woman lurking behind all this?’

Eshar Singh wanted to say something but Kalwant Kaur didn’t let him. ‘Before you swear, don’t forget, I’m Sardar Nihal Singh’s daughter. If you lie to me, I’ll make mincemeat out of you. Now, swear by Wahe Guru. Isn’t there a woman behind all this?’

In great agony Eshar Singh nodded in affirmation. Kalwant Kaur went completely wild. She leapt towards the corner and grabbed his kirpan. Ripping away the sheath like a banana peel and tossing it away, she struck Eshar Singh.

Jets of fresh, warm blood flowed down his body. Still not satisfied, Kalwant Kaur started pulling his kes like a wild cat, all the while hurling obscenities at her anonymous rival.

After some time, Eshar Singh said in a tired, meek voice, ‘Let it go, Kalwant, let it go.’

The pain in his voice was heart-rending. Kalwant Kaur took a step back.

The blood spurting from his neck was staining his moustache. He opened his trembling lips, and looking at her with both protest and gratitude he said, ‘My darling, you acted hastily, but I guess I deserved it.’

Kalwant Kaur’s jealousy flared up again. ‘Who is she — that. .’ she screamed.

The blood had now reached his mouth. As he tasted it a shiver ran through his body. ‘I’ve killed six men with this very same kirpan. .’ he said.

Kalwant Kaur’s mind was completely occupied with the other woman. ‘Who is she — the bitch? I’m asking you.’

A glint appeared in Eshar Singh’s eyes, which had begun to glaze over. ‘Don’t call her bad names.’

‘I’m asking you to tell me who she is!’ Kalwant Kaur screamed again.

‘I’ll tell you,’ he began but his voice choked. He ran his hand over his neck and smiled as he looked at his fresh, warm blood. ‘What a motherfucking creature man is!’

Kalwant Kaur, waiting for his answer, yelled with impatience, ‘Eshar saiyaan, get to the point.’

His smile widened behind his blood-soaked moustache. ‘I am coming to the point. . My fucking throat is slit. . I can only talk slowly.’

A cold sweat broke out on his brow as he spoke. ‘Kalwant, my darling, I can’t tell you what happened with me. Man is one weird creature. When looting broke out in the city, I joined in. Whatever jewellery and money I was able to lay my hands on, I gave to you, but I didn’t tell you one thing.’

A jab of sharp pain in his wound made him groan in agony. Kalwant Kaur paid no attention to him and asked ruthlessly, ‘What one thing?’

He blew away the specs of clotted blood from his moustache and continued, ‘The house we broke into had seven people inside. I killed six of them. . with this very same kirpan you’ve. . But never mind. Listen. . There was a girl. . ravishingly beautiful. . I threw her over my shoulder and. . walked away with her. .’

Kalwant Kaur listened attentively. Once again Eshar Singh blew the blood off his moustache. ‘Kalwant jaani, I can’t begin to tell you how staggeringly beautiful she was. I would have killed her too, but I thought, “No Eshar saiyaan, you enjoy Kalwant Kaur every day, have a taste of this fruit too.”’

Kalwant Kaur only muttered, ‘Huh!’

‘I slung her across my shoulder and kept walking. On the way. . What was I saying. . yes, on the way, near the riverbank, I put her down under some cactus bushes. I first thought to shuffle her some, but then I changed my mind. .’ His throat went completely dry.

Kalwant Kaur swallowed nervously and asked, ‘What happened then?’

He could hardly get the words out in his faltering voice, ‘I threw the trump. . but. . but. .’

His voice sank.

Kalwant Kaur shook him violently. ‘What happened?’

Eshar Singh laboured to open his eyes and stared at Kalwant Kaur, her whole body quaking with rage. ‘She was dead. . a corpse. . a hunk of cold flesh. . Give me your hand, jaani. .’

Kalwant Kaur put her hand on his, which was colder than ice.

The special train left Amritsar at two in the afternoon, taking eight hours to reach Mughalpura. Quite a few passengers were killed along the way, several received injuries, and some just wandered off to God knows where.

At ten in the morning, when Sirajuddin opened his eyes on the bare, ice-cold ground of the refugee camp, he saw a surging sea of men, women and children swirling around him, and whatever little remaining ability he had to think and comprehend deserted him. He stared at the murky sky for the longest time. Despite the incredible din, his ears seemed to be deaf to any sound. Seeing him in this state anyone would have concluded that he was deeply engrossed in thought. That, of course, was not the case. He was totally numb. His entire being seemed to be suspended in space.

Gazing blankly at the dull sky his eyes collided with the sun and a shaft of intense light penetrated every fibre of his being. Suddenly he snapped back into consciousness. A series of images flitted across his mind — images of plunder, fire, stampede, a train station, gunshots, night, Sakina. .

Sirajuddin jumped up with a start and made his way through the seemingly endless sea of humanity around him like a man possessed.