Jumo Bhisti: by Dhumketu

A story from a wellknown and respected Gujarati writer–Gaurishankar Gowardhanram Joshi (Dhumketu). This is a tribute to translate his words so it can reach as many poeple as possible. Let not the language be a barrier to appreciate the greatness

There were three huts in that side of Anandpur village and by the looks of it, they were a center of attraction for people passing by. The old tamarind tree covering all the tree huts, and the doses of foul smells of gutter in front of it, and the smoking dust all around, was the primary description of that neibourhood. Under those old rusted roofs, the luggage covered by torn clothes of different colours making it impossible to identify the original cloth, And there lived a man smoking a pot like an amateur lover, named–Jumo.

It was common knowledge around the village that the man had seen everything in his life, from golden utensils to shards of broken pots. He was born rich, drinking water made of milk. He might still remember his wedding when he was ten. His ‘barat’ was on an elephant. At that time, he had bought a bullock to pet, just for a spare-time activity. Now after so many years, so much time had passed and they were still living together. The bullock has an interesting name–Venu. There is an interesting story about this werirly cute name. Apparently, when Jumo was in his prime time, he had so many friends and one of them was a poet, and he gave this bullock this sweet delicate name–Venu.

After so many ups and downs in his life, Venu was the only constant of his life. He had lost all the prosperity except these three huts. One was used to put all his luggage and the other was used as a bard for Venu and there was a door between Venu’s barn from which both of them would stare at each other as long as they could, and the third one was used to store grass for Venu. Many people came and almost all of them faded away along with his prosperity, but this friendship stayed unbreakable since childhood.

These days, very early morning, Jumo would carry a large ‘Mashak’ (A leather made tank to fill water) over Venu’s back to supply water all over the town. Venu had a little bell around his neck from which comes a the sweet sound blending with the light singing from Jumo as he deliveres water from door to door. While returning home, Jumo would buy some vegetables for himself and some grass for Venu (which he would start eating while returning). so this was their day-to-day work. no more, no less; Jumo would never take on more work than this, he would not find new customers, and if someone asked, he would respectfully decline, even if he lost some customers, he would not find new ones; this was how he used to operate. After coming home, he would just smoke a pot in his hut from afternoon to all the way till evening, and sometimes he would sing a little, and Venu would also wave his head to get rid of flies, but it seems like he’s actually enjoying the song of his owner. And sometimes both of them would stare at each other from the door of the hut like eternal lovers; this was the typical day for Juma and Venu.

In the evening, both of them would go for a walk to the nearby river, and sometimes if they finish their work early, then they would go in the morning too.

So one of these days both of them went to work around five in the morning, and while returning home Jumo thought that it would be good for Venu to graze a little, but Venu! He was too civilized for this; he showed his denial by making a loud guttural sound. At last, after so many efforts, Jumo accepted his defeat and murmured

“Let’s go home then, you are too spoiled.”

Venu heard this and started dancing, he hit his tail to his body to show hist victory, and he ran a little looking back at Jumo.

Jumo also smiled a bit and raised his voice scolding: “We’re running now, eh? Come back here!", but Venu is Venu, he was already on the way and there was a railway tracks on the way. Venu was having too much fun so he didn’t see the track and by accident he found one of his legs caught up with in the railway track. He tried to get out but failed and after so many attempts he got tired and just thudded on the track. The more he tried to it out the more it got stuck; Jumo saw this and he ran to Venu and tried to get his leg out catching his breath.

It was till before dawn, there was no light. He saw the signal far away and it was green; his heartbeat stopped thinking what if the train comes?

He ran towards the railway tracks and he saw a couple of youngsters coming opposite way having fun with their sticks they had in hand and the caps they hold the other one to feel the cold breeze.

“Oh sir! My Venu, he’s stuck in the track, can you help? He will die, he is stuck in the track.”

They looked at the railway tracks, they saw something black stuck in it.

“What is that?”

“My bullock, My Venu”

“Then run to the guy who handles the railway crossing”

“Please, I beg you. Please help, he will be saved if you do”

“Oh man! What would we do? Go to the man at the crossing!” Showing no care, both of them continued walking on their way. Jumo ran to the hut of a man who handles the crossing. He heard the noise of a grindstone coming from inside the hut and nothing else. Again he heard the whistle of the train! He threw a disappointing glance around but he saw no-one. He ran towards the signal and he knocked the door of the hut but in the loud noise of the grindstone nothing would be heard; he knocked harder again and the noise stopped and a voice came from the inside,

“Who is it?”

“Please come, Brother! Sister! Change the signal, my animal will be crushed”

“No one is at home!” That’s the only voice that came with utmost negligence and the grindstone started again.

“Please come! Run! My animal is being crushed. Please!”

He called out loud as hard as he could; there was nothing around to hear it but the bitter sound of an echo of himself; and the calmness settled again. He looked at the sky. The last star setting down. Instead of getting daylight, it was getting misty. He sensed the train was getting closer and closer. He threw away his stick.

“Oh god! Oh Parwardigar!” He screamed and ran towards Venu. After so many failed attempts, Venu was also tired. Jumo sat by his belly. He was calm.

“Brother! Friend! Venu! We are in this together, okay!” He leaned towards his leg. On each second the sound of train coming closer became louder, the whistles became frequent, the beats of train wheelsets grinding the tracks became intense, and Jumo hugged Venu very firmly. But as soon as the train came near, before he would pass out, Venu raised his head and hit his master throwing him away from the track.

The train passed on Venu and Juma’s clothes were covered wet with his warm blood. He stood up shakily and saw there was nothing left of his dear friend except the few puddles of blood and the pieces of his body. Till this day, he is seen windy, alone, visiting that place with flowers and put them on a stone he chose, screaming “Venu, Venu, Venu”, three times and disappears.