Mishal Raheja
As
Dutta
SS~ A trilogy
In LTL 1..the main male protagonist, Dutta Shriram Patil is so potent and hard to ignore. In a nut shell he can be categorized as an odd admixture of virtue and vice , that which gives him universal appeal, and thus how easily makes us relate to him.
Dutta is such a meaty character with multiple layers of complexities, which he peels off gradually throughout the story . We begin to note very soon in LTL 1, that all the other characters either bounce of him or somehow are attached to him.. but he is the one who provides them a purpose for being part of the story.. such is his larger than life image.
The twists and turns of the plots appear lack lustre without his presence .. yet, where Dutta is not bodily present, he continues to loom heavily in spirit as he becomes part of their references to his persona.. it's like Dutta is the reason and the cause of all that happens in the story of LTL1..
Dutta's demeanour, his likes and dislikes, his highs and lows, his loves and hates, his foes and friends, has us viewers, totally besotted us till date.
Although Dutta's character is fairly set in our minds and hearts as the moody, broody , knight in shining armour, who aids the destitute in his locale, and saves a damsel in distress, falls in love and eventually marries her.. but it's his rage, his gullibility , obsessions of distrusting all that is good and trusting all that is not so good, are his traits that we love most about him! as it taps our pathos for him ..and many of us ache to shower him with tender loving care.. We justify his adverse deeds, and readily look for the good in him.. we justify his behaviour and favour him somewhat ,overlooking his crimes.
Once he takes his exit from the show, he never really leaves us in peace! Some of us as writers are haunted by Mishal/Dutta and as such we every so often, have our catharsis by penning some FF, OS, or SS..
Time and again imagination propels us to carve a new Dutta for ourselves perhaps in varied roles other than an underworld don. For although he being a set character , he holds so much potential that as writers, some of us like to tweak his persona, to see what he would seem in a different scenario.. initially he remains in character as we know him, still some writers may give him perhaps a vocational changeover, as we harbour the desire to visualize him as something anew , without of course strictly stamping out the Dutta spirit!
This is something, I endeavour to do as a Laagi forum writer. As the name suggests, I plan to present three individual SS that emulate Dutta in a different trade per SS. It's an experiment and is inspired by the character of Dutta from the story Laagi Thujse lagan, written by Jayesh Patil.
Just an addition, where there is a Dutta it's imperative there has to be a Nakusha too, alongside his beloved bosom friend BajiRao..
Hamlet53~ 13.6.14
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Part 6 p.36
part 10 p.55
SS ~ Out of my hand
Foreword: Some years ago when I was in the process of writing my first FF, Painful Rapture ..there was one reader in particular who was in touch with me in pms. She was one of those on and off readers who came to the forum when she could, but she was one of those also who would give her comments about PR in pms too. As time went by, suddenly from out of the blue she proposed to me, to my horror of course! "hammie ,why don't you start another FF alongside PR, in which Dutta is not an aristocrat but an ordinary man.." I told her another FF! she must be joking, it's bad enough doing one and here she was suggesting I write two FFs simultaneously.. she got the message eventually that, I wouldn't gave in!
The reader was Warda.. and after many years, I give in as I toy with her idea now .. so Warda this first SS of the Dutta Trilogy is dedicated to you.. better late than never.. Dutta as the ordinary bloke!
Mishal Raheja
As
Dutta
Out of my hands
Part 1
The ailing young woman drenched in her saline sweat moves her head side to side on the dank pillow. Tiny, tubby, determined palms mop her moist brow.It is her three year old son dressed in a white vest and shorts that shrivelled up on his hind due to dried up mud. He looks down at her face tenderly, like he is her mother, "Aye tu thek haina? kuch le ke aon main? he queries innocently. Feebly she shakes her head under the warm touches of his dimpled palm. With a blink of her bulging vacant eyes she stares at her sons endearing face, a strong nose, A tiny yet in depth dimple in his chin, and a tiny mole on the far side of his nostril, how she adores her little Dutta, the ray of sunshine in her fading life. She twists her arm and gingerly feels his baby smooth cheek with her clammy fingertips. Just looking at her only child, her Dutta makes her dry ,near crackled lips part, and she whispers, "tu hai tu chookra pun dil ekdum chookari ke mafak naram hai tera Dutta" whispers his mother as she moves his inclined head closer to her lips.. he chuckles in delight as he gathers his mothers kisses on his cheek as a reward for caring for her. Lovingly one of her arm entwines around his tiny body as she pulls him closer to her, and she feels his bottom, caked with dried mud.. with a motherly gesture she brushes and flicks off the hard muddy bits off his shorts, and looks into his naughty contracted eyes, "you've been playing in the mud again Dutta? chastises his mother. He nods, his square head briefly with a sulky" hummm". Shanti might as well be talking to deaf ears.. soil and her lad attracted one another.
A grind and a crank of the metal front door indicates, the head of the family returns home from the laborious day spent at the vast fields of Shriram Patil. He is one influential landlord, whose fields contribute to running many households in and around Patil Vadi. He is hailed as the live demi god figure of the area. A man with an abundance of everything one can wish for... but with a difference he wants the people at large around him to thrive as well,even it means in sharing his estates with them.
Damodar unloads his sack that bears him down due to the weight of tools ,off his shoulder and lets it drop on the floor with a slight noise of metal rubbing against each other. Dutta runs to tidy away his father's rather heavy sack.. but an amused Damodar watches as his son leans forward, curves his back, and legs and swings the heavy sack on this young rounded vest clad shoulders, "arree" Damodar calls out and nods at his wife, "haan Shanti ye badmash phir se maathi ke saath khel reha tha! chal re Dutta! haat tu dho le, orders his father and Dutta scampers outside the little shanty tin roofed kholi. The sudden banter of rain drops heralds the much welcome rain shower.. and the three year old runs back in and stands before his father, yelling,"dekho babba haat saf hogaye.. barish ne dho diya! and displays his pink clean palms moving then side to side at the wrist.
Damodar looked to his wife as he crouches down and pours himself some watery lentils that his wife has dutifully prepared, inspite of being ill. He is concerned about her, "bola tha thujhe khana main khud buniya ga tu tune kyun buniya?.. she turns her head on the pillow and looks sadly across to her husband who sits on the floor near the earthen fireplace feeding himself and Dutta.. whose mouth seems open for more and yet more!
Damoder looks at his wife as he shuffles his hand on his son's head.."iska peith hai ke bharta he nehi! and both parents laugh together, but in that lies hidden their anxiety that their son is a growing lad who needs a good supply of food to build his young body.
The rain stops swiftly as abruptly as it began ,just comes and goes as it pleases. Once eaten, young Dutta squats on the floor his tubby shorts clad legs lay parallel before him. The yawn says it all ,followed by a podgy fisted rub to the tired his drowsy eyes, ,"ja sau ja Dutta", suggests his father. Too tired to stand he crawled to his ailing mothers bed climbs on it ,hugs his mother and rests his chubby cheek on his mother's clammy bosom and instantaneously drops off to sleep..
Damoder unrolls the cane woven thin mat and and folds his arm under his head and dozes off. Restless he turns back his neck and checks up on his son and wife asleep on a small single bed.. Dutta has his arm thrown across his mother's belly as though he'd never let go off her, Damoder looks away he is obviously way to much attached to her.. let it be, muses Damoder gravely, before she fades away the poor lad.. and a tear escapes from the corner of his eye..
Damoder arrives at the local mandir, pandit ji awaits his arrival. Whenever the weather turns nasty, Damodar had always offered his services to clean the steps of the mandir. Today was such a day and Damoder never forgets. In fact he hopes the gods will smile at his devotional services and perhaps extend his Shanti's life by a few years.
Benignly, the pandit being a man of god, asks about Shanti wellbeing. Damoder much in despair shakes his head, "kuch nehin pandit ji, uske haal mein koi sudhar nehin hai, aye ga bhi kaise? sab paisa ka chakar hai! ju apun ke pas nehi hai" he confides sullenly. Pandit ji suggests, perhaps he needs to notify his wives condition to Shakuntla Patil..
Damoder, shakes his head, reluctantly and explains, that wouldn't be appropriate as his boss ShreeRam Patil died recently.. leaving behind his widow and three young daughters.. times are bad enough for them , the family wants to make a fresh start, to move from their existing house to a new one.. but the house isn't ready to inhabit as yet. It is a pity that the footing of the house was laid by ShreeRam himself.. but as fate would have it he never lived to see the edifice of the house raised. Pandit ji agreed with Damoder, yes perhaps this is not an appropriate time to apprise the boss's widow about his own troubled life..
Panditji suddenly stops short their dialogue mid way, looks around and asks Damoder ,keenly,"tera beta Dutta kahan hai? Damoder chuckles and raises his arm towards the giant banyan tree, laden with dark green glossy elliptical leaves with branches that extend like multiple curved arms arched in dance motion! All held together by a massive sturdy trunk which gives away the trees ancient age,"woh raha Dutta!..yes indeed there under the leafy canopy sits the three year old dressed in a white vest and shorts..
A picture of complacency he looks as he sits with folded knees on his bottom in the middle of a small soft mud crater.. his small hands press around a clump of mud. His head bows in deep concentration as he pats, digs and moulds the block of over in his hands! "Dutta! aree ohh Dutta! edhur ah pandit ji bola rehien hain!
The toddler gets up unconcerned that he is leaving behind an imprint of his tiny toes in the soft mud. With pride he holds on to the block of mud and tip toes towards his father and pandit ji .. and extends his raised palm forward for them to behold . It was a perfect moulded small sculpture of Bappa! pandit ji smiled at the model that sat on his mud caked palm, and turned to his father,"Damoder, tera beta ke hatoon mein , bhagwan ke dien hai, kala hai uske pas..kushi de ga duniya ko apne haat ke kamal se.. mera ashirwad is ke saath hai! guni hai thumhare beta "blessed pandit ji.. and gave them some offertory, parsad to take home to Shanti..
Damodar, somewhat proud of his laddie! puts his arm around his son's young shoulders and both father and son walk home to Shanti. Dutta walks carefully as he holds the model of Bappa in the cup of his palms..
Like an excited animal he prances in through the front door nearly knocks out his father from of his way and falls on his knees beside his mother.."Aye! dekho main Bappa ko apne saath hi le aya hoon ye lo baat karo in se bolo mujhe thek kar do" he plonks the model very nearly on his mother's chest, then realizes it's soft and just holds it upon his palm but hovers it on her..like some ritual.. Damoder comes to his wife looks down upon her wearily .. Dutta's square head is in the way.. Shanti is attempting to say something, and he encourages her to say it.. as he puts his arm around her head. It's as if her, eyes just has no sight but just blankness in them.. she raises her arm and Damoder and Dutta both grab sections of it.
Laboriously she mumbles "mera Dutta.. koi aam baacha nehin, nayab hai.., my Dutta is not an ordinary child, he is unique, promise me you will extend his gift.. waada karooo.. mera Duttaaahhh...her grasp stops to tighten.. a cool sigh of breath releases out of her mouth.. Shanti has left them both a crumbled Damoder faces.. Dutta looks down at his mother fast asleep then looks at Bappa perched on his palm.. "deva! Aye tu sau gaye aram se! " happily he moves away from his sleeping motionless mother and finds a spot..his mother's trunk covered with her old but fancy purple sari with a golden border..and with utmost care places his first ever clay statute.. Bappa on it..
Dutta does wonder why people constantly come to his house, cry and hold him more than they ever do under normal circumstances? but he begins to worry when he sees his father cry.. why is babaa crying? and why are people dressing up his Aye like she is about to marry? and why do they use a rope to secure her criss cross against a wooden plank? Aye!! he ran to his father who carries the funeral fire in an earthen pot, "babba! Aye ! ko kahan le ke ja rehein hain!!!
Some women grab him till they get to the cremation spot.. Dutta watches from a distance, the billowing smoke and licking tongues of fire keep him at bay .. but when his mother is set alight! Dutta runs away screaming, filled with fright.. and finds a soft mud pit and his fingers dig and scoop up a fist full of mud! he kneads and presses, and rolls and coils and moulds and pats a female figure .. pokes a bindi in the middle of it's forehead with a sharp point of a nearby rock; carves a middle parting of the hair on it's head, with his nail.. young Dutta balances the figure on his palm and cries out in pain! Ayeee...to be continued Hamlet53~ 13.6.14
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SS
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