Short Story: Grass by Hansa Deep (Translated by Rajni Mishra)

This captivating short story is originally written in Hindi by Hansa Deep and translated from Hindi by Rajni Mishra.

The snow-covered land gets a chance to breathe freely when the long-awaited summer approaches. The cold and piercing winds stop to take rest for some time. Like a newborn baby, the new blades of grass enter the world happily. The naturalised green beauty shows its love and embraces the Earth.

This is the time when Lito starts his work of grass cutting. As the grass grows and reaches its teenage, leaving behind its infancy, he gets busy. His work is to maintain the lawns of the houses for six months and to remove snow for another six months. His life is passing, adjusting to these weather changes. The task of removing snow is not as easy as it seems in hearing.

In Canada, when the snow falls with full force in the bitter winter, everything fails – machines, spades, or strong men. It is not easy to do this laborious job in the bone-piercing winter. Bundling up in warm clothes and cleaning the snow-covered roads outside the house drains off one’s complete energy.

On the contrary, looking after the grass in the pleasant, warm weather is soothing to the heart. Lito had a lot of work to do – like putting manure in the grass, putting seeds, controlling the wild grass and collecting the dry leaves. Almost the entire colony was his customer. He never accepted any other job except these two. He said, “I don’t have any survivors and I need only this much for a living. Greenery and whiteness are my friends. What have I to do with any other colour?”

His simple sentence meant a lot. Grass and snow can also be anybody’s living; it was strange to know this. After sixty-five, he will be the government’s guest. He won’t have to worry about food and medicines.

I didn’t have any knowledge about his birthplace, but this was his workplace.

He knew everything – who came into this colony in which year, who went, who was a tenant. Besides this, who purchased a house and in what amount and who was planning to sell in what amount – he knew everything by heart. Lito was the colony’s book of history. All the pages were on his tongue and there was a name registered on every page. Our name also got registered in his book from the day we came here. Everybody had come to know that a new bird with its family had come to nest at one end of the colony.

Wearing a big hat, he used to come on his lawn mower in a grand manner. It seemed as if a big musician was coming for his grand performance in the form of a country boy. His audience was the house owners, peeping from their windows. His entry was fixed at a definite time in the front and rear parts of every house, weekly. He seemed eager to talk while coming and going. It seemed pleasant to know small things about new residents of the colony, the cost of the houses, and the stinginess of the people. Everybody laughed and talked and their knowledge about the Colony also increased.

Who doesn’t like to gossip, till you are not the target? We all did this. We targeted and made fun of everybody except ourselves.

I had hired Lito to cut the grass as soon as I moved to the new house. I had to remember to pay him. I had to run behind him for his payment. He used to say, “Don’t worry about the payment, it will not go anywhere.” I used to be surprised; payment is an attraction for everyone, but he didn’t make it obvious, perhaps.

Gradually, I became used to his nature and he, of my expectations. Till the end of the month, I felt my money had started speaking. Then it started scolding, too. I wanted to see the return of every penny in the greenery of the lawn. The more money I gave, the more I expected the lawn to be green. He did the cutting, sowing, watering and cleaning of the grass. I kept account of every blade of grass. My masterly voice rose as I saw uneven grass in any corner.

My questions were endless, “How can there be different shades of grass on the same lawn, Lito? You are not paying attention to that side.”

When I saw the shade of grass turning yellow from light and dark green, I got angry. Somewhere it was short, somewhere long, somewhere it was proper. I didn’t nag him but my tone was such that he understood that I was not satisfied with his work. The weeds growing between the grass were always on my target. I hated the mixture of the wild-wavered grass and the cultured, well-cut grass. The wild yellow flowers growing between the soft green grass seemed to tease me.

“Lito, how do the wild grass and flowers come in between the green grass?”

He said, with a deep smile on his face, “These are unwanted guests and such stubborn ones who don’t leave easily.”

Lito spoke the truth. They kept growing despite putting chemicals. Their existence was stronger than the cultured grass. They grew swiftly even without water and manure. The beauty of the lawn was eclipsed by them.

“The same happens in the world, too. The evils grow fast, leaving the goodness behind. They are a black spot on society until and unless they are uprooted completely.”

Each and every word of Lito seemed to remove layers from the face of a society full of wild grass. The strict hardness mixed with the softness unveiled numerous faces. Even after picking and removing every evil, it comes back a thousand times more. Crimes and misdeeds take place here and there, even in this civilised society. They are not uprooted completely and keep shattering the society.

In spite of delving deep into this philosophy of Lito, I doubted his efforts. Tried to act as a stranger, even after knowing the truth of his statement. The wild grass is growing shamelessly, perhaps he is not working properly. I was becoming intolerant towards him. I started to look for an alternative. There was one more grass cutter who charged less. Since a one-year deal had been done with Lito, it was a small effort to get freedom from him by giving more money. When you have more than one option, the unreliability of one becomes clear, whether it may be human or a thing. His high wages helped in finding his mistakes.

Obstinacy had become a part of the personality with growing age. The inner anxiety changed into outer irritability and surprised others. It also showed a way to change one’s work. As I came down from the pinnacle, sloping downwards, I formed a habit of saying something that showed my dissatisfaction. The pride of being a payer inflicted my tongue and refused to go. His machine cut the grass, but my money rattled in its sound.

He never got irritated. He said, “It will be easy to compare when somebody else will do the work. Try some cheaper grass cutter once, you will be able to see the difference clearly.”

I moved my head dejectedly. Now I was bent upon changing him. The people of the colony kept him for removing snow as well as grass cutting every year, but I became stringent. I felt it was not proper to pay so much for snow removal. I thought, “I will decide when the snowfall will start. Better postpone it now. The Colony people have hyped him very much. He only talks a lot and doesn’t work much.”

Didn’t know when the snow days came along, in this dilemma. It snowed hard one day. The outer courtyard was filled with snow. I couldn’t even open the main door. What to do now? Got tired after removing only two spadefuls. It seemed like removing a few drops of water from an ocean. There was nobody to help. Neither could I go out, nor call anybody. There was no other option than to wait for the weather to improve so that the snow could melt. It was very difficult to pass the days.

Those twelve days seemed like twelve years. Milk, vegetables, everything had finished till the last day. The ration was not fully exhausted, but it had touched the bottom. Thank God, there was so much ration in the house that it lasted so long.

Suddenly, today I saw him in the house opposite mine. After greeting, I told him about my condition. There had been a long silence between us, and I couldn’t restrain myself from telling everything. He said, “Oh! You were in such trouble. Why didn’t you call me? I live in the back lane only.”

‘Back Lane’, I was surprised. There were big, grand houses in the back lane, worth about three million dollars. It was a posh colony. Thought he might be living in someone’s basement on rent. The rent was also high here, about two thousand dollars per month. What will this grass cutter eat if he will pay so much rent? Maybe he must be getting good work over here; therefore, he might have thought of staying here. Today I was in a full mood of investigation. I thought deeply about his statement. I asked, “O.K. You must have rented someone’s basement?”

He said, “No, it’s my own house.”

“Your house? Here!”

“Yes, what’s so surprising about it?”

“This place is expensive, that’s why I was surprised.”

“Yes, it’s true. I have three houses in the back lane. Numbers 21, 23 and 25. I live at 21 and have rented out 23 and 25.”

I was awestruck, “Ha-Ha! you’re kidding, aren’t you? You didn’t find anybody else to fool?

“Why will I joke?”

“Because, why will the owner of three houses work as a grass cutter at another’s house?”

“This is my work. I like my work. This is my living. I don’t like to sit idle at home.”

Now, I was completely shaken. There was no doubt left after this confident answer. He had mentioned the house numbers. It would have taken only a few minutes to go and see those houses in the back lane, to confirm that he was speaking the truth. He was a living example of progress with perseverance.

Suddenly, I felt very small in front of him. I felt he had become very large, like a 3-D film. A small size in front of a huge size. My house is very small compared to his three big houses. More than that, I had fallen down in my own eyes. I kept thinking that weeds are not only present in grass but also among humans. That same savageness kept peeping out of me at regular intervals.

The owner of a ten-million-dollar property was cutting grass in my garden and I was being narrow-minded and finding faults in his work. Suddenly, the wind had changed its direction. His forehead had become broad and adorned.

I decided to give him work for the rest of the snow season. I started greeting him from the window, all questions and faults had been erased from my mind, like deleted files.

Once more, the season of snow was bidding farewell, gradually. In the coming days, again, soft grass would be seen in the lawn. Now I had started trusting him. More than the lawn, the weeds which had come up in my mind had been killed by Lito’s chemicals.

Greenery was slowly erupting and making its way into the house and inside me, too.

About the Author

Ph. D. in Hindi, Hansa teaches the language at the University of Toronto, Mississauga. She is a storyteller and has contributed seven collections of short fiction and four novels in Hindi. Her works have appeared in prestigious Hindi journals across the world.

About the translator

Mrs.Rajni Mishra,born in Mhow,District Indore,is presently residing in Indore (Madhya Pradesh).She is working on the post of Assistant Professor in Higher Education Department for the last 34 years. She has done PG Diploma in translation from IGNOU.Has also completed A1,A2 and B1 certificate courses in French Language from DELF.