Rendering ‘Dua’ and rubbing my face in the cup of my hands as I get up from bed in the morning was my habit. But today, I could not feel my right hand. When I looked for it, I found it lying cold and lifeless … cut off from me in one corner of the bed. I could not make out how it happened. There wasn’t a trace of blood around. It was as cleanly sawn off as a log of Neem with a fine saw.
“O, you! My hand was cut off,” I shrieked in fright.
My wife hurried into the bedroom.
“Oh, me! Is it for this you howled so hard? I was frightened to death thinking it was for something else. Good riddance! Keep it safely in the almirah. We go to the doctor when we can find time and get it attached. Why are you scared for every small silly thing?” She left as fast as she entered.
Only then did I notice and was even more scared than before. Her left hand was missing. Yes, she was a southpaw. Whether to serve food, take a glass of water, scribble something in the notebook, clean the room or, for that matter, even to beat our seven year old lad Chandu, she employs only her left hand. But now, that all-important hand was missing.
“Forget about mine, how and when could have she lost hers!?”
I was perplexed. I wanted to call back to ask her, but refrained. I knew she would snub me again calling me forgetful. That’s all; I would get no worthwhile answer.
So, I said my prayers with the left hand, rubbed my face with it and I got up from bed. I placed my right hand carefully next to my wife’s left hand in the almirah.
Finishing my ablutions quickly with the left hand, I dressed up, had my breakfast and with the lunch box hanging to the arm stump, I darted off for office.
To my surprise, I saw my house owner coming in opposite direction with both his hands missing.
“Tut, the day!” I cursed myself, “there is something terribly wrong somewhere today!”
I wanted to enquire him about his two hands, but what would I answer if he enquired about my right hand in turn? I simply made a gesture suggestive of going to office and started my scooter.
Ha! Ha! I was able to drive the scooter with a single hand.
Oh! How silly of me! In my hurry I did not notice it. It was not to my credit that I was able to drive single-handed… the scooter itself was designed for a single-hand drive. In fact, all the people on the road were driving single-handed. The only difference being that if some of them drove right-handed, others drove left-handed. That’s all.
How did the world get so crippled overnight!?
There was a very reputed hospital on my way to office. People were standing in a long winding queue holding their amputated hands. Ignoring the “No Parking” sign I parked my vehicle aside and asked the people nearby what the queue was for? Their answer blew me away. They were people who lost their hands almost a year back. For the applications they filed then, they had got their appointments today.
“My goodness! At this rate, I will have to wait for a year for my turn! What’s the alternative? So many crippled people in this country! I was under the impression that it was only last night’s miracle. If one were to wait for a year for treatment, they get adapted to living with the lone hand before their turn comes. When they get operated later, adapting to two hands poses a problem then. No, it should not happen to me. Come what may, I must apply and get my turn as soon as possible,” I thought.
Leaving the vehicle in the ‘No Parking’ zone, I hurried towards the application counter. The queue there was even longer than pilgrims’ queue in front of the Lord of Tirupati. At least some comforting rumour was there that they were planning to start few additional queues. But here, there seemed no such plan. It was an unnerving spectacle. If I were to stand in that queue I would not come out before one week passed. People were attending to their personal care in the queue itself. Sensing the business opportunity, hawkers and vendors were having a field day. They were goading people to buy something or the other. They were swearing and calling them names if someone did not buy. Occasionally, they were even thrusting goods in peoples’ hands and collecting money frisking their pockets. And if someone were still adamant, they were dragging him out of the queue.
“How come you don’t buy something once you stepped out of the house? Why did you, then, come on to the street?” they were shouting at the helpless.
I was only missing one hand. If I were to stand in this queue, I was not sure how many other limbs I would miss. I was already late to the office. One needs enormous vigour and pocketful of money and a week’s leave to fight his way through this queue. So I left for office.
The security guard greeted me with his lone hand. Greeting him back I took the lift and reached my office floor. Everybody was seen working on their computers effortlessly with one hand.
“Can I do as expertly as they?” I was sceptical.
Keeping the lunch-box aside, I eased into my chair and switched on the computer. Hurrah! I did not feel any handicap working single handed. My left hand was working like a seasoned hand with effortless ease. It was able to negotiate with the keyboard and mouse simultaneously. Everything looked fine. The only matter of regret was nobody seemed to take notice that I lost a hand. That really hurt me.
I asked my colleague next to me.
“Till yesterday, every one of you was having two hands. What happened to one of them all of a suddenly today?”
He laughed rather laconically.
“You are a fool! It was long since we all lost one of our hands. It was only you that had two hands and you never noticed it.”
He was right. That was the way of the world. Only when we miss something, we notice if the other man was having it. All these years I took little notice of him because he was my colleague. What a great philosophy he unveiled to me in such few words! Anyway, I was better disposed compared to these people, for I could preserve my two hands intact this long. I felt a ripple of pride through my veins.
Suddenly remembering the leave I had to take to submit the application at the hospital, I entered the chamber of my boss. He was operating the computer with his feet. I did not notice when he had lost them, but both his hands were missing!
For a second, I felt it was not proper for me to ask for leave. But then, realizing I had no other choice, I dared.
“Sir! I need leave for one week. I have to submit application at the hospital for getting my hand attached.”
That I seemed worse than a ninny to him was clear from his looks.
“If I could find that time, I could jolly well have got my hands attached long ago. I could not submit my application to this day. If every one of you goes on leave for getting your hands attached, I have to shut down my business. Tell me, what extra purpose that bloody hand is going to make you? Get lost and get on with your business!” he fumed.
True. That’s what corporate culture is. Employees should learn to working unruffled, even while their limbs fall off one after another. Because I lost my hand, I was noticing people missing their hands. If I were to lose my head, perhaps, I would see many headless people over there.
I sank into my seat after that dressing down from my boss. When I looked at my watch, it was already 1 O’clock. The wolf in my stomach was growling. A crazy thought passed across my mind… if only hunger were also short of a hand and a leg; then, this struggle for appeasing hunger would have reduced by half. I walked up to the canteen, searched for a corner spot and settled down there. Before I could open my lunch box Sarayu, my HR friend came running to me with a box of sweets.
Announcing ‘good news’ and without waiting for my response, she pushed a laddu into my mouth. Biting a half and holding the other in my palm, I gestured ‘what news?’ with my eyes, still munching the half in my mouth.
“Yesterday, my baby, my darling, the apple of my eyes… had forgiven me heartily,” she declared with palpable effervescent pleasure.
“Is it? Forgave you heartily? Come on, how could you be so sure about that?” I expressed my doubt.
Putting the sweet box on the table nearby and flaunting her two hands she cooed… “taattadaaaam…”
They were so perfect! I was bored to death seeing handless people since morning. I examined keenly if they were not attached. But, no. They were perfectly natural… like the plumes of a royal Swan. They were a treat to watch.
She excused herself to offer sweets to somebody else. Suddenly it struck me why I lost my hand the previous night. Unable to overcome my grief, I broke down and sobbed…
“Chandu, my darling! Can you please forgive me for raising my hand against you!?”
***
(This story was published under the title ‘Crippled hand’ on July 27,2014, in Sakshi Daily, Telugu Magazine. This story is also published in the ‘Topi Jabbar’ stories collection. After that, it got a special place in the book ‘India Under Forty’ a special edition published by Central Sahitya Academy. Under the editorship of David Davidar, Aleph Book Company published ‘A Case of India Marvels in 2022. ‘Crippled Hand’ earned a place in that book as well. Presently, the same organization is bringing out a book of 100 stories and 100 writers and this story is selected for that as well. In Telugu also, this story was published multiple times.
About the author:
‘Jumma’, the first short stories collection of Vempalle Shariff was awarded with Central Sahitya Academy Award for Young Writers in 2012. ‘Toppi jabbar’, ‘Thiyyani chaduvu’ are the author’s other books. ‘Jumma’ is translated into English and the South Indian language Kannada. Vempalle Shariff’s ‘Aakupachha muggu’ story is incorporated as a lesson for degree students in Andhra Pradesh. His stories are translated into Indian languages like Hindi,Malayalam,Mythili, and Konkini. Shariff had worked as the editor for Rayalaseema Muslim Stories collection, ‘Chonga Roti’, and Young writers stories collection, ‘Youth Under Forty’ stories. He also worked as a subeditor for Navyandhra Muslim stories collection, ‘Katha Minar.’Besides these, he was the editor for ‘Kasturi’, a girl’s bi-monthly magazine,run by the Government of Andhra Pradesh for four years. His educational background is that he earned a Ph.D in journalism. He also brought out his research-focused writing as ‘The Language and Culture in television advertisements.’ As of the latest, he is working as a freelance journalist.
For feedback: Shareefvempalle@gmail.com
About the translators:
R.S.Krishnamurthy:
R.S.Krishnamurthy is an renowned story writer and translator. ‘Chaaya Chitralu’ is his short stories collection. Along with N.S.Krishnamurthy, he translated forty above Telugu stories into English. On the occasion of translating Allam Seshagiri’s ‘Mrugathrushna’ stories collection into English, they had been awarded with ‘South Asian Translation Award.’Under the title, ‘Pallette’ they published 19 translated stories. Later they published other translated stories under the name, ‘Easel.’ Their translations gained a place in many story collections.
N.S.Krishnamurthy :
N.S.Krishnamurthy is a renowned poet and translator. His poetry is published under the name ‘Incidental Muses.’ Under the title ‘Wakes on the Horizon’ he translated 200 poems from Telugu to English. He selected 100 poems from world literature and translated them into Telugu. Later he published them under the name ‘Kavithamtho Edu Adugulu’in Telugu. He also translated the book “Games Indian Play” into Telugu.
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