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आखिरी पन्ना पढ़ने के बाद भी दिमाग में रह जाती है 'द गोल्डेन सन'
पढ़िए शिल्पी सोमाया गौड़ा के नए नॉवेल के कुछ अंश.
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फोटो - thelallantop
किताब: द गोल्डेन सन: अ नॉवेल (पेपरबैक)
ऑथर: शिल्पी सोमाया गौड़ा
भाषा: अंग्रेजी
पन्ने: 408
प्रकाशक: हार्पर कॉलिन्स
गुजरात के एक गांव में एक बहुत बड़ा परिवार है. परिवार का सबसे बड़ा लड़का है अनिल. परिवार में जरा भी चिल्ल-पों होती है तो सब अनिल के पास जाते हैं. उसकी नसीहतों से सबकुछ ठीक हो जाता है. सब उसकी इज्जत करते हैं. अनिल की सबसे अच्छी दोस्त है लीना, अपने गांव के ऊसरों की तरह मजबूत और निडर. लेकिन समय बीतता है और अनिल देश छोड़ कर चला जाता है. डॉक्टर बनता है. हजारों मील दूर टेक्सस में सेटल हो जाता है. अनिल का जीवन बदल जाता है. अनिल वो सब करता है जो अपने गांव में नहीं कर पाता. अपनी सारी हसरतें पूरी करता है. और अपने इसी जीवन में खो जाता है. फिर अनिल के जीवन में बुरा समय आता है. और बुरे समय में वो फिर घर की ओर भागता है. गांव में उसे फिर से लीना मिलती है. लेकिन लीना की अब शादी हो चुकी है. अनिल और लीना अब पहले जैसे नहीं हैं. उन्हें एक दूसरे में अपने पुराने दोस्त तलाशने होंगे. लेकिन उसके पहले भुगतना होगा उन गलतियों का नतीजा जो वो कर चुके हैं.
'द गोल्डेन सन' को लिखने वाली शिल्पी कैनेडा के टोरोंटो शहर में पली-बढीं. लेकिन इंडिया में ढेर सारा समय बिताना पसंद करती हैं. इसीलिए इनकी किताब का हीरो रहता तो टेक्सस में है. पर दिल का एक टुकड़ा भारत में छोड़ आया है. शिल्पी का ये दूसरा नॉवेल है. पहला था 'सीक्रेट डॉटर' जो देश विदेश में इतना पढ़ा गया कि 10 लाख से भी ज्यादा प्रतियां बिकीं. कुल 24 भाषाओं में इसका अनुवाद हुआ. और अब उसपर फिल्म बनने की की भी बात हो रही है. न्यू यॉर्क टाइम्स ने इन्हें 'बेस्ट सेलिंग' ऑथर बताया. शिल्पी कैलिफोर्निया में रहती हैं, पति और बच्चों के साथ.
अब पढ़िए 'द गोल्डेन सन' का एक टुकड़ा. अंग्रेजी में. *** Before she got married, Leena’s mother warned her the first year would be the hardest. Leena kept this in mind when her new life was not what she expected: the dilapidated house, the untended lands, the ceaseless toil. She worked hard in the hope that things would get better. Yet, no matter how quickly or carefully she worked, her sister-in-law and mother-in-law were always displeased. They always found some corner unswept or some shirt stain uncleaned. Even as Leena’s cooking improved and she overheard the men around the table complimenting her dishes, Rekha grew more spiteful. Girish acknowledged her only when he wanted something; otherwise, it was as if she didn’t exist. If he didn’t like the way she folded his clothes or something she said, or if he had too much to drink, he pushed her up against the wall. Leena learned to tilt her chin down right before he did this, so the back of her head did not get slammed against the concrete. If he wanted to get her attention as she walked by, he grabbed her wrist so tightly she could see the impression of his fingers on her skin afterward. At night, in bed, he did the same thing, clamping her hands above her head while he moved on top of her. His eyes were often closed but Leena kept hers open. She wanted him to know, when he opened his eyes, that she was still there, she was watching. Leena couldn’t understand why he would want to be close to her if he despised her so. Perhaps it was like the way he oversweetened his chai, using too much sugar because he couldn’t tolerate the natural bitterness of the tea leaves. When he was finished with her, he turned away and told her to get out. Leena would go to the washroom and clean herself quietly with cold water. Only when she heard his snoring did she return to the bedroom. She was terrified of becoming pregnant and kept a careful count of her cycles, as her mother had taught her to do before the wedding, telling Girish it was her womanly time of the month when she needed to keep him away. One evening, Leena was returning the clean, folded clothes to her in-laws’ bedroom when she noticed something had fallen underneath the cupboard. She bent down to pick it up: a white handkerchief embroidered with a beautiful peacock in tiny, even stitches she immediately recognized as her mother’s. It was dusty from the floor but held its perfect square creases. Leena clutched the kerchief and ran to find her husband. She was hungry for news of her parents. She had not seen them since the wedding and had had only a few short phone conversations under the watchful eye of her mother-in-law. She found Girish in the parlor, playing cards with his brothers and two other men. Normally, she would not have disturbed their game, knowing how easily he was angered, but this time she could not help herself. She rushed in, waving the handkerchief. “Where did this come from?” she asked. “Did you see her, my mother?” The men’s laughter and conversation halted, and their eyes turned to Girish. Slowly, her husband looked up at her, his face darkening. He stared at her for a moment, jerked his head in the direction of the door, and turned back to his cards. Leena stood there, wanting an answer. Wanting her mother. “Tell me,” she pleaded so softly she could barely hear her own voice. Without glancing her way, Girish waved her out of the room. “Deal the cards,” he snapped at one of his friends. Amid the noise of the men resuming their game, Leena backed out of the room and closed the door behind her. She returned to their cramped bedroom and crawled onto the bed, clutching the handkerchief to her face, breathing in the sandalwood scent that reminded her of her mother. She didn’t know what had happened, where or why or who had seen her parents, but she knew this: her mother had sent her love. Lying in the shelter of her bedroom, Leena could hear her brother-in-law in the next room yelling at Rekha—a string of names and meaningless insults she tried to block out. Leena slept in the same position all night long, and the next morning, she tucked the handkerchief into her sari blouse and carried it with her all day, pulling it out periodically to inhale its fragrance. It gave her the strength she needed as the situation in her husband’s house grew worse. In the kitchen, Rekha swapped out the thin rolling pin for the thicker one and carried it with her at all times. If Leena didn’t work quickly enough, she snapped the rolling pin against her forearm or shoulder. Leena began to wear a sweater over her sari, even on the warmest days, to cover up the bruises on her arms and to protect herself. As a distraction from the daily misery, Leena began to allow her mind to wander as she worked. She thought of her father working happily in the fields, her mother singing as she busied herself in the kitchen. She pictured them taking a break from their work to share a simple meal of lentils and rice, garnished with fresh cilantro her father had brought from the garden. At times, she envisioned herself as a younger girl, roaming the terrain outside their home. The daydreams first came to her while she was performing mundane tasks like scrubbing clothes in the washbasin or chopping vegetables. As she ate alone on the floor of the kitchen, she imagined that she was sharing meals with her parents, passing vegetables and yoghurt to them, smiling at companions who were not there. Soon, she was escaping into the fantasies any chance she could, even when her husband mounted her in their bed at night. One day in the kitchen, Leena was remembering the Holi celebrations she enjoyed as a child, her father rousing her in the morning by calling through her window. When she ran outside to find him, he would be waiting to douse her with handfuls of colored powder. Leena always squealed as clouds of turquoise and magenta engulfed her. Her father pretended to run away as Leena and her mother chased him, but in the end he was also covered from head to toe in a rainbow of colors, and the arrival of spring had been properly greeted. The crack of a rolling pin against Leena’s knuckles made her gasp. “Stupid girl!” Rekha snapped. “Don’t you smell that?” She yanked a pot off the open fl ame. “Stupid, slow girl. Mind wandering to God knows where when the rice is burning right beside you.” She slid the lid off the pot and tilted the vessel toward her. “Look at that!” “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Leena said as the scent of burned rice flooded her nostrils. “Sorry?” Rekha grabbed Leena’s wrist and twisted it toward her. “You should be sorry!” she shouted. “Sahib is very particular about his rice. You can’t just scrape this off. You’ll have to start over, and now dinner will be late!” Rekha yanked Leena’s hand to the stove and held it over the open fl ame. Leena felt the sear of the heat against her skin and tried to wrest her hand away, but Rekha’s grasp was fi rm. The sharp ache of burn spread through Leena’s hand, and an involuntary moan escaped from her. When Rekha fi nally let go, Leena cradled her hand against her chest and looked at her sister-in-law in disbelief. “Now that you know how it feels to be burned, maybe you’ll take greater care with the food.” Rekha glared at her. “Hurry up, clean this pot and make some new rice. I’ll have to go tell Sahib why dinner is late.” With tears streaming down her face, Leena fi lled a small steel pot with cold water and immersed her hand in it. After a few moments, she found a clean kitchen towel and, recalling how Anil had bandaged the injured bird’s leg, gently wrapped her hand, crisscrossing the ends of the towel to hold it in place and tucking in the end at her wrist. For weeks afterward, there were blisters on the palm of Leena’s hand. She could cope most of the time, except when she had to roll chapatis and the pain was unbearable. She was vigilant about Rekha and her whereabouts, never turning her back when her sister-in-law was present. Leena’s mother-in-law was no better: the old woman was feeble and couldn’t strike with as much force as Rekha, but her tongue was her sharpest weapon. Leena came to prefer Mother’s tepid slaps across the face or on the bottom to the terrible names she called her. Stupid. Lazy. Ungrateful. One day, she called Leena garbage, which quickly became her favorite pet name for her daughter-in-law. Even after the bruises and blisters healed, those cutting words remained. Leena began to look forward to the days she was sent out to the fields. Picking cotton was difficult work, the nettles leaving her arms scratched and her fingers bloody, but at least she could escape the evil occupying the house. What was she doing to arouse such anger? She remembered her mother’s counsel about being compliant to her new family. Leena didn’t know if her experience was unusual or normal for a marriage. She had no older sisters to ask, and she’d been the first of her friends to wed. Her parents had made great sacrifices, having handed over their life savings for her dowry. Leena knew she had to find a way to make the marriage work.
गुजरात के एक गांव में एक बहुत बड़ा परिवार है. परिवार का सबसे बड़ा लड़का है अनिल. परिवार में जरा भी चिल्ल-पों होती है तो सब अनिल के पास जाते हैं. उसकी नसीहतों से सबकुछ ठीक हो जाता है. सब उसकी इज्जत करते हैं. अनिल की सबसे अच्छी दोस्त है लीना, अपने गांव के ऊसरों की तरह मजबूत और निडर. लेकिन समय बीतता है और अनिल देश छोड़ कर चला जाता है. डॉक्टर बनता है. हजारों मील दूर टेक्सस में सेटल हो जाता है. अनिल का जीवन बदल जाता है. अनिल वो सब करता है जो अपने गांव में नहीं कर पाता. अपनी सारी हसरतें पूरी करता है. और अपने इसी जीवन में खो जाता है. फिर अनिल के जीवन में बुरा समय आता है. और बुरे समय में वो फिर घर की ओर भागता है. गांव में उसे फिर से लीना मिलती है. लेकिन लीना की अब शादी हो चुकी है. अनिल और लीना अब पहले जैसे नहीं हैं. उन्हें एक दूसरे में अपने पुराने दोस्त तलाशने होंगे. लेकिन उसके पहले भुगतना होगा उन गलतियों का नतीजा जो वो कर चुके हैं.
अब पढ़िए 'द गोल्डेन सन' का एक टुकड़ा. अंग्रेजी में. *** Before she got married, Leena’s mother warned her the first year would be the hardest. Leena kept this in mind when her new life was not what she expected: the dilapidated house, the untended lands, the ceaseless toil. She worked hard in the hope that things would get better. Yet, no matter how quickly or carefully she worked, her sister-in-law and mother-in-law were always displeased. They always found some corner unswept or some shirt stain uncleaned. Even as Leena’s cooking improved and she overheard the men around the table complimenting her dishes, Rekha grew more spiteful. Girish acknowledged her only when he wanted something; otherwise, it was as if she didn’t exist. If he didn’t like the way she folded his clothes or something she said, or if he had too much to drink, he pushed her up against the wall. Leena learned to tilt her chin down right before he did this, so the back of her head did not get slammed against the concrete. If he wanted to get her attention as she walked by, he grabbed her wrist so tightly she could see the impression of his fingers on her skin afterward. At night, in bed, he did the same thing, clamping her hands above her head while he moved on top of her. His eyes were often closed but Leena kept hers open. She wanted him to know, when he opened his eyes, that she was still there, she was watching. Leena couldn’t understand why he would want to be close to her if he despised her so. Perhaps it was like the way he oversweetened his chai, using too much sugar because he couldn’t tolerate the natural bitterness of the tea leaves. When he was finished with her, he turned away and told her to get out. Leena would go to the washroom and clean herself quietly with cold water. Only when she heard his snoring did she return to the bedroom. She was terrified of becoming pregnant and kept a careful count of her cycles, as her mother had taught her to do before the wedding, telling Girish it was her womanly time of the month when she needed to keep him away. One evening, Leena was returning the clean, folded clothes to her in-laws’ bedroom when she noticed something had fallen underneath the cupboard. She bent down to pick it up: a white handkerchief embroidered with a beautiful peacock in tiny, even stitches she immediately recognized as her mother’s. It was dusty from the floor but held its perfect square creases. Leena clutched the kerchief and ran to find her husband. She was hungry for news of her parents. She had not seen them since the wedding and had had only a few short phone conversations under the watchful eye of her mother-in-law. She found Girish in the parlor, playing cards with his brothers and two other men. Normally, she would not have disturbed their game, knowing how easily he was angered, but this time she could not help herself. She rushed in, waving the handkerchief. “Where did this come from?” she asked. “Did you see her, my mother?” The men’s laughter and conversation halted, and their eyes turned to Girish. Slowly, her husband looked up at her, his face darkening. He stared at her for a moment, jerked his head in the direction of the door, and turned back to his cards. Leena stood there, wanting an answer. Wanting her mother. “Tell me,” she pleaded so softly she could barely hear her own voice. Without glancing her way, Girish waved her out of the room. “Deal the cards,” he snapped at one of his friends. Amid the noise of the men resuming their game, Leena backed out of the room and closed the door behind her. She returned to their cramped bedroom and crawled onto the bed, clutching the handkerchief to her face, breathing in the sandalwood scent that reminded her of her mother. She didn’t know what had happened, where or why or who had seen her parents, but she knew this: her mother had sent her love. Lying in the shelter of her bedroom, Leena could hear her brother-in-law in the next room yelling at Rekha—a string of names and meaningless insults she tried to block out. Leena slept in the same position all night long, and the next morning, she tucked the handkerchief into her sari blouse and carried it with her all day, pulling it out periodically to inhale its fragrance. It gave her the strength she needed as the situation in her husband’s house grew worse. In the kitchen, Rekha swapped out the thin rolling pin for the thicker one and carried it with her at all times. If Leena didn’t work quickly enough, she snapped the rolling pin against her forearm or shoulder. Leena began to wear a sweater over her sari, even on the warmest days, to cover up the bruises on her arms and to protect herself. As a distraction from the daily misery, Leena began to allow her mind to wander as she worked. She thought of her father working happily in the fields, her mother singing as she busied herself in the kitchen. She pictured them taking a break from their work to share a simple meal of lentils and rice, garnished with fresh cilantro her father had brought from the garden. At times, she envisioned herself as a younger girl, roaming the terrain outside their home. The daydreams first came to her while she was performing mundane tasks like scrubbing clothes in the washbasin or chopping vegetables. As she ate alone on the floor of the kitchen, she imagined that she was sharing meals with her parents, passing vegetables and yoghurt to them, smiling at companions who were not there. Soon, she was escaping into the fantasies any chance she could, even when her husband mounted her in their bed at night. One day in the kitchen, Leena was remembering the Holi celebrations she enjoyed as a child, her father rousing her in the morning by calling through her window. When she ran outside to find him, he would be waiting to douse her with handfuls of colored powder. Leena always squealed as clouds of turquoise and magenta engulfed her. Her father pretended to run away as Leena and her mother chased him, but in the end he was also covered from head to toe in a rainbow of colors, and the arrival of spring had been properly greeted. The crack of a rolling pin against Leena’s knuckles made her gasp. “Stupid girl!” Rekha snapped. “Don’t you smell that?” She yanked a pot off the open fl ame. “Stupid, slow girl. Mind wandering to God knows where when the rice is burning right beside you.” She slid the lid off the pot and tilted the vessel toward her. “Look at that!” “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Leena said as the scent of burned rice flooded her nostrils. “Sorry?” Rekha grabbed Leena’s wrist and twisted it toward her. “You should be sorry!” she shouted. “Sahib is very particular about his rice. You can’t just scrape this off. You’ll have to start over, and now dinner will be late!” Rekha yanked Leena’s hand to the stove and held it over the open fl ame. Leena felt the sear of the heat against her skin and tried to wrest her hand away, but Rekha’s grasp was fi rm. The sharp ache of burn spread through Leena’s hand, and an involuntary moan escaped from her. When Rekha fi nally let go, Leena cradled her hand against her chest and looked at her sister-in-law in disbelief. “Now that you know how it feels to be burned, maybe you’ll take greater care with the food.” Rekha glared at her. “Hurry up, clean this pot and make some new rice. I’ll have to go tell Sahib why dinner is late.” With tears streaming down her face, Leena fi lled a small steel pot with cold water and immersed her hand in it. After a few moments, she found a clean kitchen towel and, recalling how Anil had bandaged the injured bird’s leg, gently wrapped her hand, crisscrossing the ends of the towel to hold it in place and tucking in the end at her wrist. For weeks afterward, there were blisters on the palm of Leena’s hand. She could cope most of the time, except when she had to roll chapatis and the pain was unbearable. She was vigilant about Rekha and her whereabouts, never turning her back when her sister-in-law was present. Leena’s mother-in-law was no better: the old woman was feeble and couldn’t strike with as much force as Rekha, but her tongue was her sharpest weapon. Leena came to prefer Mother’s tepid slaps across the face or on the bottom to the terrible names she called her. Stupid. Lazy. Ungrateful. One day, she called Leena garbage, which quickly became her favorite pet name for her daughter-in-law. Even after the bruises and blisters healed, those cutting words remained. Leena began to look forward to the days she was sent out to the fields. Picking cotton was difficult work, the nettles leaving her arms scratched and her fingers bloody, but at least she could escape the evil occupying the house. What was she doing to arouse such anger? She remembered her mother’s counsel about being compliant to her new family. Leena didn’t know if her experience was unusual or normal for a marriage. She had no older sisters to ask, and she’d been the first of her friends to wed. Her parents had made great sacrifices, having handed over their life savings for her dowry. Leena knew she had to find a way to make the marriage work.