(Circles of Fire)

Agni Chakra (Chapter 8)

By Kathleen Jayawardena

Translated by Ranga Chandrarathne and Edited

by Indeewara Thilakarathne

"I never thought even in my wildest dreams that you would ...do such a thing to a young girl like that ...!"

That indistinct sound should come not from Shantha but from a spirit. That face disfigured by bitter crying, was dreadful even to look at. A fierce shriek came as she, who cried bitterly like a she-bear, attempted to suppress it; it was similar to the sound of suffocating that emanated from the throat.

Overwhelmed by immense fear, sadness and repentance, I lay down on the bed gazing at the ceiling fan without making any attempt either to wipe out Shantha's tears or to console her. What could I do now? I pleaded with her and apologised to her. What I could not do was to worship her at her feet. My every attempt at consoling her only intensified her weeping without offering any space for reconciliation.

"Oh my god...I woke up at the right time..."

" No, you woke up at the worst time", I should have told. It was my firm belief. Later, I thought if Shantha had not woken up at that moment, the dark line that drew across our lives would not have been so ugly. I never thought in my wildest dreams either to carry on a long term relationship with Senthamarai or to crown her in my utopia.

On numerous occasions, I thought of handing over her to her father. During the last week, I was trying to find a rationale to expel Senthamarai. Many times, I warned myself that if I carried on this unusual affaire with Senthamarai, it would lead to acute depression. The unspeakable nature of the affaire was not a secret for me. But I sought her company again unlike a grasshopper lured into a flame until it burnt down.

"Oh my god....why did you do this to me...?"

I was speechless. I had got nothing to tell her. What would I tell if I spoke my heart out?

"You should not bother much about it...There is nothing so serous about it...That's life...a moment in life; only a spur of time...you should not allow the life to be ruined because of that moment...how could it be justified? We should identify this impulse ...we could not stop the continuity of that impulse ...people change... day by day...moment by moment... I am not the same person today as I was yesterday...I will not be the same tomorrow... this union would not be everlasting...on the other, hand did only our bodies marry? Why should we be enticed to the body you identified as an aggregate of five elements? Why should we assign higher values only to certain organs in the body? ...all the organs are the same; yes...all of them are the same; won't hand and foot carry more value than that...our ties and friendship? "

That's all I have got to tell her. But what would Shantha come out with if I revealed that stark truth? She would think that I was speaking nonsense. Sometimes, her tender body would get enough strength to slap me. Would she be able to accept that condition with awareness?

Now, Shantha was silent. She laid at the edge on the double-bed on the opposite side. Though the weeping had stopped, her agonising sighs could still be heard.

With closed eyes, I was listening. Senthamarai made no sound. She might be fast asleep. What a relief it would if one is insensitive?

I was shaken by the cry of a crow. Was it about to dawn? Would the maiden rays of the sun sweep the room in a moment? There is a saying "Night is longer for one who does not sleep ". Now my hope was also that. I hoped that the sun would dawn late. It was the darkness that light lamps for me at the moment as I curse the light.

Why did Shantha get up in the middle of the night? I knew that she did suspect either me or Senthamarai. But she would have tiptoed. Otherwise I could hear 'creek', the sound made by her rubber slippers. I spent similar moments with intense awareness: at such moments my eyes and ears were sharp and sensitive. Then how could this happen? I was clueless until Shantha switched on the light...why had it happened? Could it be called 'unfortunate happening'?

Following the incident, Shantha never raised this matter again with me. But I thought that she often came out with stories hinting at duplicity of men and made sarcastic remarks.

Though I remembered that Shantha had a habit of classifying men on these lines even before the marriage, I now heard them as double-edged remarks. I always tried to convince myself that those remarks were not aimed at me and that business had normalised.

Though our attempt at behaving as normal as possible was commendable, both of us suffered a lot from restlessness resulting from self-control. This restlessness did not develop into a retreat as it grew up gradually like cancer cells.

But I noticed the marks of feelings in Shantha's eyes that I had committed an offense or had betrayed her. Thereafter, I felt that these feelings would be spreading in like cancer cells. Though I knew that these feelings would end up in disaster I could not gather myself to tell her about it. As I failed on many occasions to look straight into her eyes, I was not used to express myself to her.

I often thought of leisurely discussing with her the 'culture' and 'convention' which led to thoughts that brought about this unfortunate situation. Unfortunately those thoughts arose in me either in transit or at the university. At last, I thought of explaining everything in a letter to her. But it turned out to be of disjointed thoughts. When I read it for the second time, I felt it was a diatribe commenced in the middle and ended halfway through:

"Yes, we are married; but what is a marriage? It is an institution. An institution is made up of rules. They are rigid. But you are not rigid; you are tender, smooth and innocent which qualities are the ornaments that beautify you. But remember that; you were born for you and me for myself.

The contract of marriage unifies two worlds; two cultures. Our upbringings are different and therefore, we are strangers. Let us understand this. Our feelings and sensations are varied. Our bodies behave in accordance with them. We should pass our days leisurely without taking much burden on our bodies. Men are all the same; all are alike. But let us understand the diversity in that unity. Our thoughts and the behavioural patterns are different... that's the truth. That isn't called 'duality '!. You consider it 'duality' when you are full of hatred and jealousy. Why can't we interpret this as 'dualistic performance' of our bodies..? Why should 'dualistic performance' be turned into a 'dual '? Isn't it a tragedy? If life is long, we should have enough time, amid numerous odds, to analyse problems. But it is not so... life span is very short; if counted its only two digits.

'Let's understand this. Then, why should we make life a struggle? Why should we make it a farce? I tell you these things as you have got intellectual capacity to understand them all. Let's forget everything. What has happened cannot be undone? Despite all, I still love you. Isn't it enough? "

When I read this letter written in blurred handwriting, I experienced strongly a disgusting sense of self-defeat and shame. I tore the paper into pieces. What I was most ashamed of was the ending of the letter: 'I still love you'.

Thereafter, I questioned myself whether I really loved Shantha. Though I could not identify such a romantic feeling in me, I subconsciously felt that there might be such feelings. I wondered whether I might be sad if Shantha died. A pang splashed in me. I understood that her death will definitely sadden me and cause repentance.

But...?

Is one's pain at another's death an indication that one who is living had loved the one who died?