The Charlatan
Pratik K Mukherjee
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| Image Courtesy: Wikipedia |
(English Version of the famous Bengali short story "Chaliyaat" written by Sukumar Ray)
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| Photograph By : Swarup Chakraborty |
Shyamchand’s
father served a very senior position in some office under a British Management,
and that obstinacy was very much reflected in his son’s attire and the airs he
flaunted. His routine arrival at school was quite a spectacle – sporting a
stylish collar, a colourful umbrella sheltering his precious head, his
supremacy sounding high and aloud, from the crisp sounds of his brand new
leather shoes. Closely being followed at his heels by a fully uniformed,
turban-clad Orderly, trudging along with his books and tiffin box, it was
surely a statement! Though the smaller boys remained dumb-struck, we had
unanimously rechristened him as ‘The Charlatan!’
To
cover up for his remarkably frail stature in order to gain credibility,
Shyamchand maintained a sombre personality. He maintained a ‘know all’ attitude
and spiced it up with flamboyant statements of wisdom so subtly that everyone,
ranging from the school security guard to the younger students had the
impression, ‘This man is special’! It created quite a ruckus when Shyamchand
came to school brandishing a watch fob one day. After every five minutes he
took it out of his pocket, putting it to his ear to check if the watch was
keeping time. He started to point out at every clock and watch in the school
premises, desperate to prove that each was malfunctioning. He show-caused the
school guard Pandeyji for his carelessness, ‘Hey you! Why don’t you regulate
the school clock when you wind it up daily? It has a service due, its
constantly running late’! Even Pandeyji’s predecessors had never heard of the
terms ‘Regulate’ or ‘Service’! He had just mastered the art of winding up the
clock daily, which was hailed as a matter of pride and esteem back in his
ancestral village. In order to live up to that fame, he retorted, ‘Yes off course
Babusahib, I am going to ‘Renglit’ the clock just now’! Vanquishing the
confidence of the old man, Shyamchand got back to his class triumphant, was
instantly engulfed by a throng of younger boys – his blind fans! With airs of a
weathered horologist, Shyamchand gradually unleashed the wonders of ‘Slow,
fast, Main Spring, regulate’ and every mystery concerned with clocks and time keeping to his ardent pupils.
Once
it happened, a new teacher who joined our school recently, came to our class
and addressed Shyamchand as ‘Khoka’! It was for sure, insult added to injury
for the egoist Shyamchand who, with a severely glum and reddened face tried to
resurrect, ‘Sir, my name is Shyamchand Ghatak.’ The teacher, not understanding
the gravity of this innocent statement, responded, ‘Shyamchand? Very good,
please take your seat, Khoka’! For the next few days, practically everyone in
the school pestered his pride to smithereens, chanting ‘Khoka, Khoka’ whenever
he was in sight. But Shyamchand retaliated just in a couple of days! That day,
he arrived class in style and pulled out a black, cone shaped object from his
pocket. The new teacher, quite a simpleton, asked, ‘Are you feverish, Khoka? Is
that why you are carrying a thermometer?’ Shyamchand’s answer resounded with an
air of sarcasm, ‘No way Sir, not a thermometer! It’s a fountain pen!’ A
deafening silence prevailed! Everybody stood dumbfounded – A fountain pen? The
whole class including the teacher thronged up to check it out! Shyamchand was
explaining, ‘This is a Vulcanite tube, which contains the ink.’ A small boy
fidgeted out, ‘Oh, this is a water gun for sure’! Shyamchand, not even caring
to answer such stupidity, smiled with an air of ignorance. Uncapping the pen
and displaying its golden nib he declared, ‘This is Iridium, much more
expensive than gold.’ The next moment, he caught hold of a copy and started to
write out his name smoothly, in full, with the piece of wonder he had
introduced everyone with. Everyone remained dumbfounded by the impact, the
teacher wearing a jaw dropping expression! When Shyamchand handed over the pen
to him, he examined it from every possible angle, wrote out two lines and
exclaimed in a overwhelming tone, ‘What a pen – foreign manufacture, I
suppose’? Shyamchand went on in full flow, ‘American Stylo & Fountain Pen
Co., Philadelphia.’ He had, for sure made up in style, to dent his punctured
aura!
The
Puja vacations were fast approaching. A colossal ‘Shamiyana’ had come up at the
school playground to celebrate the festive season – the stage was set for a
show by a renowned magician hired from Kolkata by the school authorities. On
the day of the show, every chair along with the basement, terrace, railings,
staircases and every other possible place was filled up with the dignitaries,
invitees, teachers, school staff and students. It was a full house audience!
The Magic Show unfurled before the amazed eyes – a spotless white handkerchief
was instantly transformed itself into a rainbow of colours by the sheer wave of
the Magic Wand. The Magician took out eleven raw eggs from his mouth totally
intact, after swallowing only one hard boiled egg! He extracted fifty rupees in
total, after he wrung the long, shabby beard of the Deputy Secretary’s
chauffer! Then came the moment – the Magician inquired, ‘Does anyone have a
watch?’ Shyamchand bolted out in utter ecstasy, ‘Here, I do have one!’ The
Magician, after collecting his watch fob, inspected it very closely, bearing a
very serious expression. Then he called out, totally impressed, ‘It’s a fantastic
watch!’ The next moment he wrapped it up in a piece of paper, and started
hitting it with full force by a hammer. After this ruthless act, he unwrapped
the paper – now it contained a few shards of glass and pieces of iron! He asked
Shyamchand, ‘Is it the same watch that you gave me?’ Shyamchand’s expression
was miles away from being enviable! There was horror all written over his
pitiable face, he tried to say something repeatedly, but choked to silence.
Lastly, with a herculean effort, he managed to pull out a strained smile, wiped
his face and slid back in his chair. Moments later, when his watch fob was
excavated in an unscathed condition from a bread loaf, the charlatan laughed
his heart out aloud, as if he was well aware of the whole trick from the start!
The
Show went on with impressive magic stunts by the Magician and was gradually
nearing completion. At last, he kept on asking for various items of daily
importance from the huge audience as – pairs of spectacles, rings, wallets and
purses, silver pens, expensive pencils and etc. at random. When ten to twelve
items got accumulated, he put all of these on a sheet of cloth, and tied them
into a neat bundle under stringent vigil of the audience. Then he again called
up Shyamchand, and handed over the bundle to him, perhaps he had developed a
special interest in the tantrums of the Charlatan. Shyamchand, who had by then
regained his composure, seemed elated and over confident as he struck a gallant
pose while acting as a custodian of the public property he was assigned with.
The Magician was however, engrossed in his bizarre lines of action comprising
of waving of the magic wand, facial expressions and other typical histrionics
practised by their contingent – was chanting his magic hymns at the same time!
Suddenly he stopped, raised his eyebrows and inquired in a pensive tone, ‘Where
are the items?’ Shyamchand replied smartly pointing to the bundle he was
holding, ‘Why off course, here they are!’ The Magician exulted in joy, ‘Great
job son! Now, can you please reopen the bundle and hand over the items back to
the respective owners?’ Shyamchand followed suite, only to open the bundle to
reveal some pieces of coal and gravel lying inside! The Magician burst out
hysterically, striking his forehead with disappointment and distress, ‘Alas,
what will I do now? I had collected all the items from the respectable members
of the audience, and they trusted me! Why did I let you hold the bundle? What
will I do now? Hey boy, enough of jokes, give me back the things which I had
put in your custody! I don’t know anything!’ Shyamchand was completely at a
loss of words, his face was drained of colour and lacked any expression, he let
out blank looks all around him! Then the Magician started extracting the lost
items one by one from Shyamchand - the ring from his ear, the pencil from his
hair, the pair of spectacles from his sleeve and so on! The audience started
laughing and we too started jeering, as the Magic Show was reaching its climax.
Even Shyamchand, sensing the joke intended, started to pull up a smart smile,
as if he was unperturbed by the whole issue. After all the items were
recollected and handed over to the members of the satisfied audience, the
Magician clutched his hands, and enquired on a serious note, ‘What else have
you taken?’ After all these tense moments which nearly took a toll on his
superlative personality, Shyamchand was unable to control his anger anymore, he
blurted out in anger, ‘You are a great liar! I had never taken or hid a single
item!’ The Magician made him turn around, and coolly pulled out a live white
pigeon from under his coat, and inquired sheepishly, ‘And what do you call it …
just nothing?’
Shyamchand
could not take it any longer – he burst into tears in public! Wailing aloud,
punching and kicking the thin air hysterically, he ran out of the Shamiyana
like a man possessed. Delighted that we were by his ultimate humiliation and
demolition, lived the moment shouting our hearts out, ‘The Charlatan! The
Charlatan!!’
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| Special Monsoon Issue,2020 | July-September 2020 |রিমঝিম সংখ্যা।
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