Short Story: High Above
(Saurabh Kumar Chaliha was one of the most popular short story writers of Assamese language. Chaliha took the Assamese literary field by storm in the fifties with his short stories that literally liberated the readers from the confinements of geography, nationality, ethnicity and even time. His short stories explored emotions and experiences in all its forms and would often take the readers around the world or even around the space and expose them to myriad realms ranging from science to music. His way of storytelling is characterised a tendency to use less words to express more. He is hailed by many as a trendsetter in the field of Assamese literature.
Chaliha had written about himself-
“Nothing is permanent, only change. Nothing is constant, only death. Every heart-beat causes us a wound, and life would be a continuous bleeding to death if there were no narrative-art. The art of narration gifts us those assurances which nature denies us: a golden time that never rusts, a springtide that does not wither away, unclouded joy and eternal youth.”(Ludwig Börne)
“Nature has also denied me many things (e.g. – to take but a single instance – I’ve not been given the strength of will to assert my views or my stand in private and public life), and maybe I’ve been trying to make up for those deficiencies in a roundabout way with pen and paper, and have perhaps tried through such efforts to feel some ‘cloudless joy’. Maybe this is the yearning of the subconscious mind- I wouldn’t know, a psychologist might. But I am not without doubt if those endeavors have attained the level of ‘literature’ (or ‘prose’). To hear the word, one feels that ‘prose’ is an aristocratic adjunct, a high-toned classical thing. There is of course nothing aristocratic about my writings, but perhaps even those mundane pieces have given me some happiness, some satisfaction, a few perhaps ‘cloudless’ , most others basically ‘clouded’. But at the same time there is always the conscious feeling that these writings are not entirely my private, personal stuff to be put away in my drawer, that these would be printed on the pages of books and magazines, read over the radio. That is to say, these words would be transmitted to the perception of the reader, and if as a result the reader also feels some resonance of my happiness, only then would those words be of any value, otherwise meaningless. Fruitful or futile, the writer wouldn’t be able to say; only the reader would.”
This is the English translation of his Assamese short story Uparat It has been Translated by Wing Commander (Retd) Sisir Kumar Barua. )
The room had no wall. It was not imperative to create the ambiance of a room by simulation with artificial lighting. It was also not essential to alter temperature or lighting of the room; because the patient was fully unconscious, his heart had almost stopped. The uniqueness of a temperature-controlled spherical room, would not have brought any neurological change, nor any physiological deterioration in the patient.
About three metres away, seated on a circular chair, the doctor was observing the patient. ‘Patient’s age between 30 to 40 years, face looks very drained, lips pressed, hair black… ………. From the look it was impossible to find out to which country the patient belonged; he was found unconscious on a Lima street. But according to the Governmental sources, he did not belong to Peru. This one problem has become acute after ‘passports’ were dispensed with. There was no paper in the patient’s pockets, nothing in his body too………..trouser and shirt bought at Corfu, Coat and wrist watch bought at Edinburg, etc’
Close to the patient’s head, a net was installed- like a radar antenna, but many times more complex……a ‘brain wave’ detection device jointly developed by IBM & Mynichi. Waves generating from the patient’s brain were being detected, transformed and differentiated in an electromagnetic field and then into images. Automatic servo levers & wheels were measuring all parameters of the patient’s condition and plotting a graph.
The attending physician was middle aged, his hair & moustache white; black circles around his eyes. Once more he read the signal coming from the earth. “unconscious or coma.” From observation of the electro-encephalogram it appears that the cause probably grievous injury or shock resulting from severed ‘lenticulo striate arteries’ that has caused brain hemorrhage. Fear of secondary infection. Treatment started with penicillin. At the time of send off patient’s pulse rate………’
The spherical room was connected through a thick cable to another room. Both rooms were leisurely orbiting at a common trajectory creating a virtual gravitation force. The Doctor awaited in anticipation of signals from the other room. A Light glowed & the doctor took his face close to an aluminum screen.
‘Yes, Jim.’
‘A few images are visible.’ the voice from the control room said; a young American voice, deep and assuring ‘Shall I connect?’
‘Please.’
A screen gradually came down behind the patient’s head; in it some obscure images gradually appeared and faded away, like the images on a radar tube; flashes of comatose patient’s brain activity. The physician commenced observation of these images with great concentration. The images were unclear, lacked coherence, suddenly shifting from one to the other; most likely some apartment buildings and homes. On the streets were some moving forms, possibly human, …………..But where did the streets belong? Where did the people belong? What kind of people? Without doubt, moving images, but there were, no subjectivity in the movements. At a passing glance, looked like aimless wandering as if in a dream. Many people, many mansions, many cities, many roads,-streets & ‘strache’ and suddenly all earthly images disappeared & myriad bright dots like constellation of stars, with shapes of quartz appeared on the screen.
“Jim” the doctor took his face closer to the screen.
“Yes Herr Professor.”
“In the seventh reel, are these pictures of stars?”
“Yes Her Professor. Of course most common groups, those children learn at school. Great Bear, several clusters of the milky way, a comet within URSA MAJOR-M 101, as far as we can guess, the patient is not an astronomer. Maybe these he saw in newspapers or books. But one picture is little astonishing-that star near the end of the reel, the one that is glowing & smothering is not a familiar star. It is the 2nd of no 60 in Kruger’s list. But what is surprising is that the patient is imagining it to be a ‘pulsating variable”.
“Perhaps it is a mental mix up. Maybe the name Kruger-60-B is capturing his imagination; maybe the patient has no curiosity toward the star.”
“Quite likely, Herr Professor.”
“Fine, Jim, what is that burning mass, growing as it spirals upwards? .What is that picture in the patient’s brain? A mathematical computation?
Jim said that it was picture of basically two stars. As far as Jim could guess by observing the stars nearby that it was the picture of twin stars named Beta Lyrae at sunrise, as a beginner would assume. The suns of these two stars are not spherical but semi spherical, burning Hydrogen gas –the same burning hydrogen gas is the mass seen by the patient.
“Not bad Jim, not bad at all. How long did you stay in Smithsonian University?”
“Four years, Herr Professor’’ polite reply.
The satellite completed another half orbit; the path now leaned 1/4degrees from the Equator. In the other room Jim started receiving fresh ‘blip’ ‘blip’ signals from the Florida tracking station; below flashes of light of Mexico city passed by. The patient started breathing with more stress, pulse & heart beat were slowly falling. Fresh lines and drops of sweat appeared on the forehead. Dreaming has ceased; there was no response from the Mynichi-IBM machine. Once again the doctor focused the pictures on the screen. Not a single readable face -perhaps forgotten faces, perhaps the patient’s retaining power had ceased long ago. – the doctor thought ‘Or maybe the patient has lost his heart’s desire, focus towards human faces. Perhaps the patient is walking through the cities of the earth in complete unawareness, lack of concern.
“It is demoralising that till today we are not able to capture the colour or sound of brain waves” the doctor thought-“what clothes are those people wearing, what is the colour of clothing, colour of their faces? White, yellow or black? A broad object frequently appearing; it is not a train. Is that a bus? A tram? A trolleybus of Rome? A red & cream coloured double Decker bus at London? A tram of Calcutta, Rotterdam or Edinburg ? Time and again a distinct rectangular object is appearing from within the fuzzy images. Had there been a small sound associated with it! Adamant persistence; a rectangle time and again… A window? A mirror? A letter? A minor change of colour, a low sound—a distressed scream, a sound of firing a pistol, a sound of footsteps, a closed door, a spinning wheel of a tram , a deep sigh-a piece of music could disclose so many facts about this unknown , undiagnosed, comatose, lost memory wanderer”.
“Jim, do you like ‘Bach’?”
“Can’t say I don’t like, Herr Professor. I don’t understand. Something above me.”
“Ah”
“A piece of music, a piece of Bach’s creation”- the doctor thought “Nice, Marburg, Heidelburg…so many years ago. He was then a fresh doctorate of neuropsychology…. full of youthful passion, a young man wearing leather shorts, boating in river Necker to explore new tributaries of the river, a young student; only the other day.., coming out of doctoral research with highest honours. After that so many small & great wars, famines, conflicts, revolutions came down upon the earth. So far away, yet so near. Today, orbiting hundreds of miles above the earth, in the border region of the ionosphere – an ‘observer’ in a small satellite hospital made by man. The middle aged professor, even today is so thrilled, to know different stems of human mind”
Nice, Marburg, Heidelberg did not fall in the satellite orbital path. ‘Sentinel’ was
passing above cities of Africa and half destroyed forests at high speed. Now Africa was covered by sunlight; if he wished he could observe the forests, rivers and cities through the telescope.(even the cross sectional view of the streets). His watch time being over, he could wake up his assistant. But he did not touch the switch of the telescope nor wake up his assistant. He kept looking at the patient intently. He had done whatever he could. He had recorded the patient’s brain waves. ( the recording had been done at high above as the light gravitational force and low air pressure was very promising for treatment of heart. Besides, helpful radiations are present above the atmosphere. In addition, till date the Mynichi-IBM was only capable of functioning outside earth’s gravitational and other fields. But he had not been able to interpret the meaning of the waves, pictures; to discover the relationship. More time was required for that. After an hour the Venus bound ambulance, loaded with fuel in Moon will arrive and take the patient out of the gravitational field to the inter planetary hospital ‘Swainser’ where consultants are available. His task was only to keep the patient kicking till then and collect the records.
“Ok Jim, any news from your wife? How long”
“Thank you Her Professor: in a day or two….: Jim did not finish the sentence.”
“Oh are you getting nervous?”
“No, no, not nervous,
Herr Professor.”
“Boy or girl, which one you would like? Tell the truth.”
“Girl.”
The doctor wanted to tell that he too had a daughter, they named her ‘Geyarda’. Her mother affectionately called her Geyardashen. She was only four & half year old at the time of second bombardment of Berlin. He also wanted to tell that at the time of disaster, Bach was his source of strength and belief, whom Jim & others do not understand. Such type of divine music man does not understand. Even after losing all & all that he had, he did not lose faith in himself or mankind, darkness has not been able to consume his soul-because once upon a time a musician named Yohan Sabastian Bach took birth in this world.
He wanted to ask Jim whether any signal from Florida had come about the spool he had been waiting for the spool for several days- recordings of Bach’s C Major Concert & two Organs.
He spoke audibly “You too want a daughter? Ha, ha. So many changes have taken place in the world. Even mankind learnt not to fight any more wars and took all the nuclear weapons to space and destroyed them. But the wish of would be parents have not changed. There is nothing new under the Sun. What do you say Jim?”
He clutched the notebook tightly so that it did not fly off in weightlessness. Again he went close to the screen, to micro tape the data, wanted to call Jim. Jim was whistling. Jim heard his voice and hurriedly stopped whistling. Jim was whistling a note from Louise Dalapikola’s 120th symphony.(Those have become more popular in the last decade of 20th century.) The doctor smiled absentmindedly-Jim might not know that distinctiveness of this note comes from Bach. When he did remember the days of Smithsonian University, Jim would start whistling; may be his words reminded Jim of those days.
Sitting near the port window he observed the clouds and the oceans and the stars passing by many more times brighter than seen from the earth and the borders of the continents changing every hour, the shape of the earth changing like moon spots from small size growing bigger and bigger to fullness, and then again becoming smaller and smaller; barring a short period of eclipse, full sunlight the whole day. One of the reasons why the hospital had been established at this height- then he also remembered the big spread out fields of the Lower Saxony province-lovely countryside of Heidelberg… the Necker river flowing snake like through the mist; ruins on the banks of the river, evening fog, rows of ‘Hullender’ flowers in bunches, aroma of coffee in beer gardens, froth of beer. He remembered his wife Yohana, Marburg’s neurology seminars. He remembered Yohana and himself together practicing ‘Bach’ on a big double piano…….family…..bomb.. Berlin.
He remembered again about the spool of Bach. ‘May be it would come today or tomorrow’. He silently uttered a line from prayer book.
‘How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?
“ Herr Professor could you find anything?”
“ No Jim, the pictures are of no help.”
A Tram of Rotterdam, a mansion in Bombay? Those people, are they his country folks or from another? One country or quite a few countries? Oh just a sound! (‘a thank you’, a ‘no’, a ‘farewell’, a ‘small admonition’, a ‘child’s cry’, a ‘mother’s deep sigh’, a lover’s distressed kiss, A waiting train, a murmur of oak tree, the sound of breaking a glass, the sound of a door closing – Any sound.
“Jim , please connect one more time.”
“Yes Herr Professor”
“Did Florida call?”
“Yes, Herr Professor. Another forty minutes.”
“Thank you Jim.”
Once again the rectangular object. A window, a mirror, a paper, a letter?
Lines on doctor’s forehead contracted, ’injury? What injury? What type of injury? What type of shock? Why injury? Why shock? What was the blunder, what was the crime that caused the injury? Where was the fault? Whose fault? His own or someone else’s fault ? Someone else’s crime? Some very rapid images floated inside the Doctor’s head without reason. He imagined a house, a rectangle. The rectangle was illuminated. Light coming out of a window. He imagined a busy street in front of the house full of people, cars and trams. He imagined a park in front of the house, young men and women holding hands, cradles swinging, children playing. He visualised… ‘a man walking away from under the window, coming back, again walking away …….the road became deserted, park became silent and at last the window became dark, but the man still kept walking back and forth…’
Does the man have a family? Mother? Does he have any pull towards anything in this world; an attachment, a loose bond? What is it that has brought this man without identity, away from earth in comatose condition and laid him on the neurological observer’s chair…..like this …like this….the light in your room, the four cornered light reflections from the round shaded table lamp on your reading table, fade away from our sight with its thousand yearnings, accompanied by the spectra of sensations of myriad evenings, small, big homes located higher and lower, around your home grew smaller and smaller, the park in front of your home, the busy street, thousands of people in the tram terminus and the blue sparks from the tram cables receded quickly from our senses, the crowd and vehicles on the street in front of your home turned into dark moving spots, slowly disappeared and vanished. Then at last have we extricated ourselves from the pain and agony in relation to the lighted window.
Have we freed ourselves from our innumerable conflicts, narrowness and envy? Yes, the busy street, the clamour of small children in the park, in the breeze the known smell of sweat, lavender and coffee powder, the metallic sound of friction of the tram cables and the blue sparks and the light from your square window- at last we have taken ourselves away from all these things and launched ourselves away from our guilt laden helplessness at seven miles per second, Now this boundless expanse, song of thousand stars, this momentum, all these are ours, ours, ours…..
“ Herr Professor?”
“Yes Jim?”
“Florida again. ‘Brandschutz’. First stage lift rocket is burnt off. Another twenty minutes ”
“Fine.”
“Micro tapes are ready. Do you want anything more, Herr Professor.”
“No thank you.”
‘Brandschutz’ First stage lift rocket has burnt off. We have passed the tremendous acceleration of lift off, never felt the immense gravitational force and blood pressure, as if we have left all our agonies, conflicts back at earth..Now we are freely moving un interrupted amongst countless stars; outside the port hole quickly passing many coloured quartz, rows of known unknown stars, steady and fluctuating, white dwarf and ‘Red giant’ ,’Luzok’, ‘Myra’, and ‘Kalpurush’.
Drops of sweat appeared on the patient’s forehead, restlessness slowly on the rise. The doctor observed the moving point of the graph. Second infection. Pulse 99. Again penicillin to be injected.
But where, where, where did we leave the mysterious, cloud covered Venus, why don’t we see its beauty, why is light so faint, where is the brightest star, Lubbock, why don’t we see its light, why so cold, where is the heat of Canopus or Vira, why don’t we feel their warmth, why don’t we hear the music of Virgo and Centaurus? Why so cold? Why so quiet? Where did we make mistake, what was our flaw? Was it only a mathematical error, or something bigger, An error more terrible than that, we left without any endeavor, we ran away.
“Her Professor?”
“Yes Jim?”
“Another ten minutes.’
“Ten minutes? We are lucky. We cannot keep the patient even for half an hour. I have given penicillin again. Yes Jim ,I am ready. Give the signal.”
“Yes Herr Professor.”
“Have they brought any new patient?”
“No, in this trip all will go to ‘Swaintcher.’
“Fine.”
The doctor started getting ready. In Jim’s room, the clipping sound became quicker. The doctor rubbed his eyes with palm of his hand. After five minutes he will wake up his assistant and go to sleep. Penicillin molecules started flowing in the patient’s veins. The hinges of the exit door settled flawlessly in proper place at the touch of Jim’s unseen hands, the room was filled with a muffled droning noise. After five minutes the ‘Swaintcher’ ambulance will arrive and spin parallel with Sentinel and through the automatic door take out the patient and fly towards Venus………may be the patient will recover consciousness, memory will come back; forgotten city, lost faces ,old sound- may be the patient will try to free himself from these, move farther, far and away…….
“Herr Professor? Herr Professor?”
“What is it? What is it? Any bad news?”
“No, no, your spool ….just now received the signal. ’Christmas Oratorio’ and two piano something probably C Major.’”
“Really? Thank you Jim, thank you.”
Ah, so long as Bach is there in this world….
Standing near the head of the bed the Doctor started observing the patient. The bed was wet with sweat………. writhing in agony, clutching his fist with hand time & again, thousand lines appearing & vanishing on the agonised face……may be poor fellow had never heard the music of ‘Bach’.
“ The spool will go with the patient, Jim.”
“But Herr Professor, they have sent it at your request”
“The spool will go with the patient.”
“Yes Herr Professor.”
The doctor told himself, ‘How shall we sing the LORD’s song in a strange land?’ and closed his eyes,
…….like this the light in your room, The four cornered reflections from the round shade of table lamp on your reading table with its thousand yearnings, accompanied by the spectra of sensation of myriad evenings came back to our view……Yes, the busy street, the clamour of small children in the park, in the breeze, the known smell of sweat, lavender and coffee powder, the metallic sound of friction of the tram cables and the blue sparks and the light from your square window, with all these we have allied ourselves, with warmth of our body and mind, we again have entered our world of guilt, envy and helplessness Now this boundless expanse, song of thousand stars, this un separable momentum, all these are ours, ours, ours…..
