A LITTLE while after sunset, the world is full of a vague sorrow. A boat is sliding over the water. The water merrily touches the boat on the sides. No sign of life anywhere. The world drones silently. The sound, not audible to ear, pierces all through the body. It quivers inside the heart. At that moment, despair, as though life is drawing to a close. At a distance trees move away. Trees closer walk back awkwardly like ghosts spreading their locks. The boat is still, the canal bank moves on. I peer through the water, slicing through the mirrored darkness. The stars waft over the waves in a gay abandon. And go to sleep, eyes wide open.

The wind stands still. The pulling rope turns tight and loose as the long pole splashes through the water. At the rear of the boat, there is fire in the cooking place. It blazes out, now and then. Next moment, it subsides. A little fellow is emptying the water collected in the boat with a small bucket. Several gunnysacks on the boat - paddy, jaggery, tamarind and salt. I lie on my back at the top of the boat. The smell of cheroots and bits of vague conversation float in all directions. A feeble lamp glimmers in the cabin of the boat-clerk. The boat moves on.

'Hey, boat! Come this way. Towards this shore,' someone calls out.

As the boat nears the shore, two persons get into the boat. The boat swings a little that way.

'We'll sit on the top,' the voice of a woman.

'Where have you been all these days? No see long time,' the helmsman enquires.

'Ijanagaram, Isakapatnam, my man and I have travelled all over. Even went to Appannakonda.'

'Where are you going now?'

'Mandapaka. How are you, maridi? Is the boat-clerk the same old fellow?'

'Yes!'

The man lies on his back at the top a trifle awkwardly. The cheroot he is smoking rolls down. The woman takes it up and puts it out.

'Fellow, get up and sit straight.'

'Shut up, whore. You think I am drunk. If you say anything more, I'll break your bones.' He turns over and goes to sleep. She takes out a sheet of cloth and covers his body. She pulls out a cheroot and lights it. In the glow of the matchstick, I notice her face. The dark face has turned reddish.

A masculine timbre in her voice, yet intimate and persuasive. Her face isn't certainly charming, but there is a certain respectability in her demeanour. Her dark blouse is almost invisible in the darkness. Her eyes twinkle in the darkness. She notices me in the glow of the matchstick. 'Someone is lying here,' She tries to wake up the man. 'Lie down, bitch. If you make any noise, I'll kick you in your sides,' he shouts and moves a little with great effort.

Meanwhile, the clerk comes up with a lamp in his hand. 'Rangi, who is this fellow?'

'He is my man, sir. Don't write a remark against him, sir.'

'It is Paddalu. A stealing son of a bitch! Get him off the boat. Are you in your senses? Why have you got him into the boat?    He is a wretched drunkard.'

'I haven't touched a drop. Who says I am drunk?' asks Paddalu.

'Drop him right away. Why did you let him in? He is dead drunk. '

 â€˜No, sir. I am not drunk. Only a sip!'

'Shut up, you fellow. You are talking to the clerk.' 'Baabbaabu, we'll get off at Mandapaka,' says the woman. 'Clerk sir! Namaskaaram sir! I am not drunk, sir.'

'All right. If you don't behave, I'll get you thrown into the canal. Be careful.'

The clerk returns to his cabin. Paddalu gets up. He doesn't seem to be drunk.

'He will push me over into the water, the bastard!'

'Be quiet, he may hear.'

'Ah, let him look at his cargo tomorrow. Puts on airs, the bastard. '

'Silence, someone sleeps over there.'

'Who? Sleeping?'

Paddalu lights a cheroot. Bushy whiskers on his angular face. A broad bony chest. An erect back like a stiff staff. A thin man with a devil-may-care attitude.

The boat moves on silently. The fire at the rear is put out. The boatmen wash their dishes after dinner and gossip in low tones.

No nip in the air. Yet I covered myself with the upper cloth, afraid to expose my body to the thick darkness over there. The wind is sharp and soft like the touch of a woman. A softness beyond words. An expansive feminineness fills and encompasses the night completely. In her warm embrace, the agonizing tales of the past come back to me slowly, affectionately. The tales of feminine affection sustaining man from eternity. A little away from me a couple of cheroots bum bright. Life appears to sit up in deep thought. 'Which is the village we are approaching?' enquires Paddalu. 'Kaldari,' replies Rangi. 'No, it is still a long way off.'

Meanwhile, Paddalu seeks intimacies with Rangi. 'No, please, for god's sake, be careful today. We shall see later. Please listen to me.'

'Timid whore,' Paddalu pokes her on the sides. 'Ammo,' moans Rangi and looks up passionately at the sky into the darkness. She turns up her face, desirous of his touch forever.

Slowly, I feel sleepy. The entire boat too falls asleep. The boat slides on. A little away from me the man and the woman talk in whispers for a while. I haven't had sound sleep. I can sense the boat moving along, the trees retreating. Nobody is pulling the rope. Everybody is dozing. Rangi walks past me and goes to the helmsman.

'How are you, maridi?' Rangi says sweetly.

'Fine, how are you, dear?'

'You know, how many wonders my man has shown me – the movie, the shipyard. You know, maridi, the ship isn't merely a ship; it is almost like a town. I couldn't imagine where the helm could be!' Rangi goes on talking softly. Her words are a lullaby to me.

'I feel sleepy, dear.' Says the maridi at the helm.

'Please leave the helm to me. I'll take care of it. You take a little rest, maridi.'

The boat moves on slowly, softly. Rangi is at the helm. She raises her voice a little and sings without disturbing the silence.

      Where is my man, Oh, where is he?
      With food in the pot, I sit waiting.
      The night passes like a shadow
      No sleep for the eyes-Oh, where is he?
      O maridi, all my body is stiff,
      As the cool breeze stings me like a scorpion.
      Your warm body, if it doesn't press me close,
       I may die - where is my man?

There is a sweet melancholy in the masculine timbre of her voice. All life goes to sleep, at her song. The love tales of yester years resonate strangely, soulfully, sorrowfully, in her song. As the song rises in a flood, the world seems to float like a small boat. On this journey, human existence appears like an illusion, remote and heavy.

A little away sits Paddalu, head covered with a rag. Between him and Rangi appears a gulf of countless ages. Soon he gets off the top and goes down into the boat. I lie on my back still, and look on. Rangi continues with her song.

      You look for the girl behind the temple
      And inch toward her, silently ­
      But who indeed is that girl behind the temple?
      Isn't she myself - in the bloom of youth?

I feel sleepier; the song reverberates in the entire world and comes back into my heart. I fall asleep, and in my sleep romantic nature appears to break into an ecstatic dance. The peasant girls join in, vibrant and vivacious, playing hide and seek with their lovers and merge with the song of Rangi. A dream world, I have never known before, unfurls in front of me in my sleep. There, Rangi and Paddalu swing and sway in various forms. The song slowly fades away from my memory. Sleep shuts the doors of my mind.

********

A commotion in the boat. I wake up, rubbing my eyes. The boat is anchored near the shore. The boatmen are all over, moving up and down, with lanterns in their hands. Two men are holding Rangi tight. One of them is the clerk, with a folded rope in his hands. Rangi must have been flogged already. I jump off the boat and run up the bank. I ask what the matter is.

'The son of a bitch has run away with some gunnysacks. This bitch reached the boat to the shore somewhere. She is at the helm,' the clerk says in anger, distress and despair.

'What did he take away?' I ask.

'Three sacks of tamarind and two of jaggery. I never could trust that rogue. Now I have to pay for all this. Where did he remove the sacks?'

'At Kaldari, baabayya.'

'Chi, bitch. I was awake at Kaldari.'

'Then it must be at Nidadavole.'

'This bitch won't tell the truth. We shall hand her over to the police at  Attili.'

'Please let me off here, sir!' pleads Rangi.

'Don't make a scene. Get into the boat,' the clerk pushes her into the boat. Two boatmen also help her into the boat.

'Sleepy bastards, mustn't you be careful? Why did you leave her at the helm? No sense at all,' the clerk lets out his disgust and goes into his cabin.

Rangi is taken to the top. A boatman guards her. The boat moves again. I also walk up to the top. I light a cheroot. 'Won't you let me have a cheroot, sir?' Rangi implores freely. I pass on a cheroot and a matchbox. She lights her cheroot.

'Maridi. what purpose will it serve, handing me over to the police?'

'The clerk won't leave you.' The boatman replies.

'Paddalu is your husband, I suppose?' I asked.

'He is my man,' says Rangi.

'He had eloped with her. They aren't married. He has another woman. Where is she these days, Rangi?'

'At Kovvur. At present, she is quite a beauty - strong and fair. If he thrashes her too - like he does to me - she will be soon like me, that whore…   '

'Then, why do you still hang on to him?' I ask.

'He is my man, after all,' she replies, with a surprising self­-assurance.

'But you say, he is carrying on with another woman?'

'What if? He will always come back to me. After all, he is a man. He can have as many women as he wishes. He is a king among men, sir. Nobody like him anywhere.'

'You don't know him, sir. How fair Rangi used to be! One day, sir, he set fire to the hut she was in. She was almost burnt out. She has survived, because she is destined to live on,' the boatman says.

'True, sir. At that moment, I felt like strangling that fellow, if I could find him.' She lifted the blouse a little. On her back there was a ghastly whitish scar, visible even in the dark.

'And you still cling on to him, when he treats you like this!' I say.

'How can I help it, sir? The moment I see him, I forget everything. He is so sweet, so tender. This evening, we started at Kovvur. He was so entreating, so irresistible. He pleaded for help in stealing the sacks. I simply could not say "No". The plan to steal would not succeed without my help. He knew it. We reached the river by the short route.'

'Where did he remove the stuff?'

'I don't know,' says Rangi.

'A clever bitch!' smiles the boatman.

I am curious to have a glimpse of her face. But in the darkness, she remains a mysterious dark diamond.

The boat crawls on slowly. It is past midnight. A slight chill in the air. The leaves flutter on the trees slightly. The boatmen pull the boat once again. Sleep eludes me. The boatman keeping guard falls asleep. Rangi doesn't seem keen on running away. She is puffing at the cheroot.

'Did you ever get married, Rangi?' I ask.

'No, sir. I just ran away with Paddalu when I was young.'

'What's your native village?'

'Eendrapalem. I didn't know then that he was a drunkard. Of course, now I too drink. Nothing wrong with drinking. But when he is drunk, he thrashes me.'

'Then, why don't you walk out on him?'

 â€˜I feel exactly like that, when he thrashes me. Still, there is no man like him, sir. You don't know, sir. When he is sober, he is very tender, and he melts like butter. Even if he carries on with a hundred women, he will always come back to me. If he doesn't find me, won't he die of a heart-break?'

Her attitude of assurance seems strange to me. The strange bond between them is beyond my understanding. Rangi starts again.

'We couldn't settle in any job. Finally, we took to stealing. My mother was alive then. Used to scold us.'

'One day, he brought the whore to our hut. He slept with her right before me. He was fully drunk, so was she, my sawiti. I pounced on her, clawed her with my nails. He asked me not to get killed. He took her away somewhere in the night. Next morning, he came back alone. I asked him to go away. But he sat at the threshold sobbing like a child. My heart melted. He took me into his lap. Softly, sweetly, he asked me to give him my gold chain. The other woman had asked for it. I lost my temper. I was furious. But he cried. Swore, he couldn't live without her. I pushed him out and shut the door. He pulled at the door and knocked on it for a while. And finally went away. Couldn't sleep for long. Just when I was about to sleep, he set fire to the hut. He had fastened the latch. There was no one around. Midnight. My whole body got seared. I swooned knocking at the door. Somebody opened the door from outside. The next day, the police arrested him and brought him. I told them firmly that he was not the culprit. He came to me in the evening and cried bitterly, pitifully. Finally, I handed him the gold chain. He weeps only when he is drunk. When he is sober, he smiles.'

'But why do you still turn an accomplice with him in thefts?'

'What can I do, sir? When he comes and implores me pitifully, I just cannot turn him away.'

'And what about your trips to Vijaynagaram, Visakhapatnam...?’

'Utter lies. Just told like that. The boatmen have a little trust in me. Besides, there were a couple of thefts on this boat earlier.'

'Supposing the police arrest you? What will you do?'

'Nothing. What can they do to me? No stolen stuff on me.

 â€˜They may thrash me for a day and then they will let me go.'

'What if they catch Paddalu with the booty?'

'Ah, it can't happen. He will have disposed of the stuff by now. I stayed on just for that.'

She heaves a sigh and talks on, as if to herself.

'All the money goes to that bitch now. He won't leave her until his infatuation is over. All these troubles for me. The whore. She will pay for all this.'

There is no emotion, no resentment in her words. She has accepted him as he is, for what he is. She is ready to do anything for Paddalu. Submits herself to him willingly, and with pleasure. No ideals, no devotion, not even love. It is the heart of a woman - a medley of jealousy, prejudice, love, affection and a host of complex emotions. She hungers for her man untiringly. She isn't particular that he should lead a moral life, a blemishless life. She has accepted him with all his virtues and vices. To me, her life seems a listless burden. Maybe, mine own is even more so.

The wind rises high, each moment. The boat has picked up speed. The world in repose is ready to wake up. The farmers are on their way to their fields, trudging on the canal banks. The morning star hasn't risen yet. Folding up her knees, Rangi looks on vacantly.

'He is mine. He may flirt with a hundred women. I don't care; He will come back to me always,' she murmurs to herself.

A hope, a courage, a confidence, a sense of reassurance in her words. In fact, those words are the very essence of her whole being. I hear them with trepidation, admiration, and compassion. I remain silent. We sit there till daybreak.

Before disembarking, I place a rupee coin in her hands and move on hastily into the town without waiting for her reply. No idea what has happened to her later on.