The World of Vapour
Manika Devee
Translated from Assamese by Abhigyan Anurag
(Born in Mongaldoi, Manika Devee is an Assamese short story writer of the present generation. A Post Graduate from Cotton College, Guwahati, she has published a number of short story collections namely Priya Alap; Moidamor Jonaki; Sakhiyoti. A teacher by profession, Devee received the Munin Borkotoky award in 2005 for her short story collection Priya Alap.)
That day it rained cats and dogs at noon. It was as if we were in the world of vapour as we were surrounded by it. The distant mountain got gradually invisible. And the mountain that became bald step by step showed off crown of the clouds. Of course, it was out of our sight. The rain vapour kept us aloof from the mountain and the tiny stream that was suddenly dazzled before our eyes like the thread of the deities. Probably, the brisk stream having little water then ran down along the mountain uninterrupted. Oh! It was not seen, there’s no way to have a look. The rain had faded our sight.
The little children of the nearby colony laughed and played boisterously in the rain. Suddenly there heard somebody letting out a screech at the children: Hey! Go at once. Get fresh at home.
Saying so, the elderly man started wetting in the torrential rain himself and touched the rain water to his satisfaction.
We also thought, we too would move to get wet in, but we remained as pillars slipping even not a single step. We grew, as if, trees from roots. Only the trees got heavily moisten in the rain water. The rain fell off from the stems and leaves of the trees and our bodies stayed dry like the sands of the desert.
*** *** ***
That day at dusk stars appeared in the sky. We looked at it. Somebody from among us said: That is the planet Venus, I can identify it. The twinkling Uranus, Jupiter, Mercury, Mars….we had gossip on them too. But the fact about the Pluto was out of our chat as we were sure it was no more on the orbit. The Pluto had become a hole in want of heat from the Sun just like the cavity after nudging out of the eye balls. Then why would we talk about the Pluto?
And at that moment our conversation grew reddish. Oh! See, a part of the sky got too the same. We stood on end. The screams from the distant mountain flew on like the mass of burning grasses. Oh! The mountain caught fire!
The mountain folk were always easy going…their eyes turned smaller, cheeks got little contracted when they smiled. They brought fresh vegetables for us on their back. Ah! Very excruciating were their lives! They even struggled for a drop of water.
But that drop caught fire. How and why? Oh! We could not presume. But we knew, they stopped coming down the plains along the zigzag friendly road. They disappeared in the market places.
We looked at each other. Should we march forward? The burnt mountain may be cool.
