By Sujatha Balasubramanian
Navarasa literally means, nine emotions.
According to Indian tradition, the basic emotions in life are divided under nine heads; Shringara– love, Hasya– humour, Karuna– pathos, Roudra– anger, Veera– valor, Bhaya– fear, Bhibhatsa– horror, Vismaya– wonder and Shantah– peacefulness.
Each of the following stories is meant to portray one of the Rasas or emotions.
‘Shantah’
“I have told you about anger and love, fear and valour,” said Guru Somadeva to Mathangi. “But, of this, the last of the rasa bhavas it is most difficult for me to talk.” “Peace,” he sighed, “peace on earth, more than that, the peace inside a person’s heart, the stillness and quiet in the secret depths of the human consciousness, what shall I say of that? We seek it, all of us, humble or great, and it eludes all but a few.” Somadeva was silent for a few minutes but recollected his thoughts with a glance at Mathangi. “I can tell you no stories of this,” he said, “no tales of fancy. But once, I knew a person with this inner strength of calmness and I should like to tell of him.
Anu drew the sarees off the hangers and flung them into the little brown suitcase. Nothing, nobody was going to stop her. If she wanted to marry Suresh, that was her own affair. No old-fashioned parent was going to arrange a marriage for her, she had made her own choice. She rummaged inside the cupboard and brought out a handful of cheap costume jewellry and dumped them into the bag. “Hello, Anu, packing?” Her brother Gopi lounged in the doorway, hands stylishly thrust into the pockets of his incredibly tight pants. “So, you are really going through with it, are you?” “Yes,” she replied fiercely, “of course, I am going away. With Suresh,” she added. “And don’t you try to cook up any mischief,” she warned, closing the lock of the bursting bag with a snap. “Far from it,” laughed Gopi. He came nearer and whispered to her. “Now, if you can help me out with my problem, I shall put in a word for you with Father.” He took his sister’s hand and pulled her to a corner and began to explain.
The old man looked up from his paper when he heard Anu at the door. She walked in and diffidently dumped her suitcase on the floor. She balanced her weight evenly on her feet as if bracing herself for an onslaught. “Father,” she said slowly and distinctly, “I am going away to marry Suresh.” The old man studied her face with a tiny, affectionate smile. “Anuradha,” he said softly, almost tenderly. Anu fidgeted. Every time he called her by her full name, she felt uncomfortably grown up.
“Do you love this boy?” he asked calmly. His face betrayed no agitation but was full of serene radiance. As always when she was with him, Anu could feel the trembling uncertainty falling off her to be replaced by something stronger. She had to think for a few seconds before replying in an uncertain voice “Yes — I think so.” Surely, she did love Suresh, or didn’t she? Well, there had been another boy last year and that Niranjan – he was so handsome! She glared at her father for a minute. Oh! Why did he have to spoil it all by asking her such things.
The old man folded his paper and put it down. He patted the cushions next to him and she sat beside him. “And does he love you too?” he asked, not mockingly but seriously as if he really needed to know the answer. Anu looked away from him, remembering the last time she had been with Suresh. He had told her that he loved her passionately, but had been rather cold when she talked of going away to get married. “There is no hurry,” he had said, as his glance went towards the bevy of girls clustered around the college gates. This time Anu looked directly at her father, gaining sustenance from his composure. “I don’t know,” she said firmly. She got up from the sofa and taking her bag in hand, walked out of the room. For the first time, she felt mature, old enough to be responsible for her own life. She decided that she wanted to be sure of many things before she went away to marry Suresh. At the door, she turned and said “Gopi had something to say to you – about buying a scooter for himself.”
“Send him in,” said the old man, “I know he has been wanting one for a long time.”
When Gopi came in, he was sorting out a sheaf of papers. “Father,” began Gopi urgently, “I really must have one right away, all my friends at college have a scooter.” The old man smiled at him. “Yes, Gopi, I understand,” he said. Gopi, who had been expecting a lot of opposition was speechless. “Do you know how much it costs?” asked his father. “Er — around three thousand, I expect” replied Gopi. As he said those words, he thought, why, that is a very large sum. He looked at his father a trifle uncertainly. The old man had the uncanny knack of making one take a second look at one’s own self.
“Take a look at these things,” said the old man, holding out some papers. Gopi glanced at them. They were bank statements. He bent lower and studied the figures for a while. The balance added up to not more than a few hundred rupees in all. His father said “This is all I have and obviously, it is not enough to buy you a new scooter.” He continued after a pause, “Of course, if you wish to ask your mother for her jewels, you can pawn or sell them and get the scooter.”
“Certainly not,” replied Gopi heatedly, “what do you take me for?” Already dreams of his cherished scooter seemed to be receding rapidly.
“There is another alternative,” said the old man with a twinkle in his eye. “I could pay the first installment for a new scooter, provided you can keep up the monthly payments afterwards without my help.” Gopi thought. About a hundred a month, it might work out not more than that. He could easily try and get a part time job. It might be great fun to tell the boys importantly – I’ll have to rush away, I have a job you know. Immediately, his face brightened. “Yes, thank you, Father, that will be perfect. I’ll see about a job right away,” he said and ran out of the room. The old man sat on the sofa and picked up his paper. His face was serene and not smiling.
“So, you see, my child,” continued Somadeva, “it is the ultimate in life to be rid of all anger and passion, to be like the vortex in a whirlpool. What little I know, I have taught you because, in you I recognized the spark that makes a great artist. Now, go ahead and face the world confidently.”
Mathangi danced that evening as if one possessed. The adavus which flowed with some precision combined with the rasa bhavas to achieve a perfection that made the onlookers gasp with delight. ‘Bhavayami Raghuramam —‘ She danced oblivious of those around her, her mobile, expressive eyes not flaming with anger, now shyly hidden under the long lashed lids. When the applause died away, she bowed and withdrew behind the screen, her thoughts with the great Guru who could spin stories with the same dexterity with which he could dance.
Stories by Sujatha 