The Slave Labourers: A short story by Mohan Parmar

 

The slave labourers had not arrived yet. We left our horses under the mango tree and strolled aimlessly. Back at the camp, the king was taking his siesta. Leaving everything to us , he was relaxing quietly. But we could not afford to relax till our task was done. The queen had accompanied the king on the journey to the countryside this time. Normally she would have preferred to travel on horseback. but the heat was intolerable and she decided to sit in the palanquin . We cannot bear  this heat , she had told the king obstinately, take us back to the capital. But who was there to bear the palanquin? Slave labourers were indispensable.  Besides the palanquin, there were some bags and bundles to carry. All of us, from the king to the lowest private in the army, feared that the heat of the sun would wither queen’s charming and delicate body. If it had been a matter of a couple of men, we could have taken up the job ourselves. But at least a dozen men were required. The soldiers, who had gone to fetch the slave labourers, had perhaps already reached the village. There were seven men in our group which was dispatched for the mission. Two had gone in the village, while the rest of us waited under the mango tree at the edge of the village. It was likely that the cowardly villagers had taken to their heels the moment they saw us approaching. We were in uniform, and they were naturally frightened of the usual atrocities. But we were not at all intent on harassing them. Even we were to entertain such an idea; there was no time for it.

We had to hurry back to the camp with the slave labourers. Gazing at the fields, we had involuntarily walked some distance from the tree where the horses were tied. My companions , fed up with waiting  kept glancing impatiently at the village, I was more pre-possessed . Himmat Singh , who was the leader of our group seemed to be more impatient than the rest. Though  I being second in command should have been as impatient as him. But I was least interested in the slave labourers and continued to gaze at the fields. For everything there was Himmat Singh, his nerves already on edge. So why should I bother? Himmat Singh after taking a round of the fields, returned to the tree, while the other three sat on a hedge and set up a conversation. I just gazed at the barren fields. And why shouldn’t I? The two who had gone to the village to fetch the slave labourers were my closest pats, and I should not have a moment’s doubt about their success!

Suddenly I heard the neighing of a horse. That is one of the horses tied to the tree getting restless. I said to myself. But it was the two soldiers on horseback returning from the village. The three-some sitting on the hedge scrambled to their feet and looked expectantly at me. I joined them in a trice and we dashed to the tree. We swept the fields behind the soldiers with our eyes to pick out the slave labourers. But there was no sign of them. I glanced at the soldiers who arrived. The smile, which they usually wore on their faces like a charm, had turned into a sheepish grin. I bit my lips to restrain myself. The soldiers got down from their horses and walked up to us. But their lips were sealed. We raised our eyebrows quizzically at them. But it appeared that they had forgotten even the basics of sign language. They uttered no sound and stood with lowered eyes. Seeing their poise Himmat Singh was enraged. Advancing a step towards them, he thundered:

“Speak up are you dumb?”

There was no response from either of them. I was glancing uneasily at Himmat Singh. Himmat Singh caught one of them by the chin and turned his face up.

“Why are you scared like chicken? Why did you come back without the slave labourers?”

“Nobody was ready to come.”

"They ignored his majesty’s orders, and still you didn’t say a word?’

“There was little that we left unsaid.”

“You could have brought them here by force.”

“But how could we? We didn’t have any orders for that. We met the mukhi and gave him the king’s orders. Then we went with the mukhi of the colony of meghwals. The mukhi told the slave labourers to come with us. But they refused.”

“Why didn’t the mukhi command them to do it?”

“He commanded them. but that was all he could do. They stood in a circle around him, arguing their heads off.”

“The scoundrels! When did they become so audacious?”

“We don’t know. But they refused to budge. Do what you want to, but none of us will go, they declared it was the mukhi who had to beat a hasty retreat. Nobody will come for slave labourers from this village, he finally told us.”

Himmat Singh shook with rage. A determined expression came to his face. It was as if Yama , the god of death had suddenly possessed him. The soldiers trembled with fear and my eyelids flickered as I watched them. I tried to read the lines that appeared on Himmat Singh’s face. The other three were annoyed at their comrades for not bringing the slave labourers. But I caught their eyes and put my forefinger on my lips. Himmat Singh was our spokesman and there was no need for the rest of us to get wise. But as he ticked off the two soldiers who had failed in their mission, Himmat Singh was glancing surreptitiously at us to note our reactions, and we had to put on a grave expression.  It was no fault of Himmat Singh’s that he got wild on them. For this was the first time that such a thing had happened. The slave labourers had never disobeyed the King’s orders before. No village in the kingdom had ever, in living memory, recorded such a gross violation of a royal order. Whenever slave labourers were needed, the mukhi used to make arrangements for that. Often, seeing the approaching soldiers, the slave labourers would make out tat they were needed and would gather voluntarily at the village square. But everything had gone out of joint now.  The slave labourers had unequivocally refused to comply with the king’s orders. They had dug their own  graves. What was going to happen now? Perhaps Himmat Singh himself would go to the village, taking some of us with him. I could not even imagine what could ensue then. Himmat Singh’s eyes were now on me. Without relaxing the expression on my face, I walked up to him. The other three followed suit. The soldiers who returned without the slave labourers looked chalk-white, as if all blood had drained off their bodies. They did not make any attempt to look up at any of us. There was no way to get away from Himmat Singh’s blood-shot eyes. Everything had become unhinged. If Himmmat Singh would take his eyes off me for a moment, I could scrutinize the faces of the two. Finaly Himmat Singh asked one of them to fetch his horse from under the tree. When the horse was brought, Himmat Singh leaped on to its back and cried,

“Come on, everybody.”

We leaped on to our horses in an instant. Himmat Singh’s horse galloped furiously and our horses had to strain to catch up with it. When the village came into view, Himmat Singh slowed his horse and we rode together after that. I was is alarmed at what was going to happen. When did I become such a coward? My heart thumped in fear in each beat of horses’ hoofs. We stopped at the village square. It appeared that a pall of terror had fallen on the village as we entered it. Himmat Singh leaped down from horse and commanded ,

“Seize the mukhi, and bring him here!”

Himmat Singh looked at me imperatively. I looked quizzically at the two soldiers, as much as to ask where the mukhi was. The two of them went to the village and came back with the mukhi. Seeing the mukhi and the soldiers returned with the quite amicable expressions to averse each other. I rejoiced. The mukhi stood with folded hands before Himmat Singh. He was trembling with fear. The mukhi’s atendence spread a message on the platform in the square and we sat down on it.

“Since when have you been mukhi here?”

“It is twelve years now, bhai sahib."

“Have you ever disobeyed the king’s orders?”

“No, bapa. It will be the death of me, if I do!”

“Then why didn’t you send the slave labourers with soldiers today?”

“What can I do if they refuse to come?”

“Does it mean that your power does not extend to those meghwals?”

“It does, bapa.”

“Send the slave labourers immediately.”

Having said his piece, Himmat Singh twirled his moustache. The mukhi and his attendants hastened to the colony of the meghwals. As they disappeared from the sight, we started whispering to one another. Himmat Singh went on twirling his moustache and looking at us intermittently. My companions were frightened like mice before his ferocity, but not I. I asked him boldly.

“Do you think that the slave labourers will come?”

“If they don’t come, we will drag them by the scruff of their necks and skin them alive in the square.”

“Suppose they refuse to come even after we skin them alive?”

Himmat Singh looked suspiciously at me.

His eyes became thoughtful. It appeared he was suddenly confused; he turned his suspicious glare on others too. They stopped whispering and looked down the path along which the mukhi and his attendants had gone. Time flew. There was still no sign of the slave labourers nor there was any message from the mukhi. Himmat Singh started muttering to himself. As for me, I was beginning to feel exhausted. Everything now appeared perfect; it dawned on me all of a sudden. I got up abruptly taking a deep breath. Himmat Singh turned to me.

“What is it? Any sign of them?”

“Nothing!”

“It is getting too late.”

“Let us go, a couple of us, and look him up. How long can you trust him anyway?”

“Who does he think he is?”

“Taking the king’s soldiers for scum? Sit down!”

I sat down without a word. There was nothing to say.

For some time, we diverted our attention to the villagers who were passing through the fields and along the narrow paths. Still the slave labourers didn’t come. They had turned out to be too dear a commodity to get. If they don’t come, it is their look out. There was nothing to worry our heads off about it, was there? the two unsuccessful soldiers remarked that the mukhi had lost his nerve before the slave labourers. What was the use of threatening him? If Himmat Singh had reckoned time that past as we sat down on the mattress and waited for the slave labourers, the composure that he was maintaining would have crumbled. The king would have become annoyed at waiting for us so long. And here we were not even certain whether the slave labourers would come. It was probable the king had sent the chieftain of the army in search of us. I guessed right. Soon, hoofs beats were heard in the distance. The chieftain arrived with his trail. We scrambled to our feet. The chieftain did not get down from the horse. We bowed ceremoniously to him. Ignoring our obeisance  , he flung a question at us.

“Where are the slave labourers?”

“The mukhi has gone  to fetch them. But what are you doing here?

The chieftain’s tone was menacing. Himmat Singh trembled from head to foot. I looked straight into Himmat Singh’s eyes. But Himmat Singh averted his eyes and waited with bowed head for the chieftain’s order. The chieftain’s eyes narrowed. 

“Why are you still standing here? Why don’t you go to the village yourself to fetch the slave labourers?”

We ran towards the meghwal’s colony. Himmat Singh’s face was dead pale. I did not get a chance to look at his face closely. For my attention was diverted to the mukhi. I had to ascertain whether the mukhi had really lost his nerve before the slave  labourers.

His things had taken an entirely an unexpected turn. The slave labourers were wrangling with the mukhi and he was kind to pacify them. Catching sight of us, the mukhi abruptly changed his poise. Summoning a grave expression to the face he commanded.

“ Make a move, all of you! Those who refuse will be taken to the square and roll in the mud like pigs!” 

I looked alternately at the mukhi and the slave labourers. Himmat Singh quietly edged towards me, his face betraying his helplessness ignoring the mukhi and the slave labourers for a moment. I scrutinized Himmat Singh’s face. Watching Himmat Singh’s expression turning meeker and meeker, I held myself growing taller. He might still turn out to be more than a match for me. But reassuring myself that such a thing would never come to pass, I continued to watch the altercation between the mukhi and the slave labourers. Suddenly the mannerisms of the slave labourers took possession of me. I waved my fist in the air and brought them down on Himmat Singh. How funny it would be, I thought, if we finally returned without the slave labourers.

Dr.Mohan Parmar  has won  Sahitya Akademi Award for Gujarati ( for the year 2011) for his short fiction collection, 'Anchalo'. He is leading Gujarati writer of dalit origin,
Born on 15 March 1948, he is Ph.D.in Gujarati. He is prolific writer , has published short stories, novels, plays and criticism.

 His books include:

Five short story collections: Kolahal, Nakalank, Kumbhi, Poth And Anchalo.
Nine novels:  Bhekad,Vikriya,Kalgrast,Prapti, Neliyun, Priyatama, Asthfal, Dyaya Pasha Ni Vadi, Luptvedh
Plays: Bahishkar
Criticism: Samvitti,Ansaar
Edited: Gujarati Dalit Varta  and several other anthologies.

He earlier  editor of ‘Hayati’ alongwith Harish Mangalam. Currently he is deputy editor of ‘Parab’, a monthly journal of Gujarati Sahitya  Parishad.President, Gujarati  Dalit Sahitya Pratishhthaan.He is already recipient of several important literary awards.

Contact:

A/225, Parimal Society,Behind Kirtidham Tirth,Chandkheda,Ahmedabad 382424

Cell: 09662986585