The Eyes Have It in Urdu/Hindi
About The Author
Ruskin Bond (1934-) is a widely read writer of Indian origin who writes in English. The setting for most of his stories are the hills of the Himalayas. Among his most notable works are The Room on the Roof, The Angry River, Rain in the Mountains.
Ruskin Bond (1934-) ek Hindustani origin ka lekhak hai jo angrezi mein likhte hain aur bohot zyada parhe jane wale writer hain. Unki kahaniyon ka zyadatar manzar Himalaya ki paharon mein hota hai. Unki mashhoor kitaabein mein se The Room on the Roof, The Angry River, Rain in the Mountains hai.
About The Text
In this story Bond exploits the situational irony that originates between two people who meet by chance in railway compartment. The young man and the girl are unaware of their individual blindness and converse with each other from the conviction that both of them can see.
Is kahani mein Bond do logon ke darmiyan moqay par halat kay mutabiq latife ko istemal karte hain jo railway compartment mein aik doosre se miltay hain. Jawan shakhs aur larki apni alag alag andhe pan ke bare mein jante hain aur aik doosre se baat karte hain yakeen ke sath ke dono ko dekh sakte hain.
The Text
I had the train compartment to myself up to Rohana, then a girl got in. The couple who saw her off were probably her parents; they seemed very anxious about her comfort, and the woman gave the girl detailed instructions as to where to keep her things, when not to lean out of windows, and how to avoid speaking to strangers.
Main ek train k compartment mai baitha Rohana tak jaane k liye, phir aik larki chadhi. Jo ause chorne aaye te woh shayad uske walidain thay; unhein uski aaram ki bohot fikar thi, aur aurat ne larki ko tafseelat se bataya kahan apni cheezen rakhein, khirkiyon se bahar na jhukein, aur anjaan logon se baat karne se kaise bacha jaye.
They called their goodbyes and the train pulled out of the station. As I was totally blind at the time, my eyes sensitive only to light and darkness, I was unable to tell what the girl looked like; but I knew she wore slippers from the way they slapped against her heels.
Unhone apne alwida kaha aur train station se nikal gayi. Meri tab poori tarah andha tha, meri aankhen sirf roshni aur andheray ko hi mehsoos kar sakti thi, mein nahi bata sakta tha ke larki ka chehra kaisa tha; lekin mujhe maloom tha ke woh chappal peheni hui thi, kyunke wo uske ediyon se takra rahi thi.
It would take me some time to discover something about her looks, and perhaps I never would. But I liked the sound of her voice, and even the sound of her slippers.
Mujhe kuch waqt lagega ke main kuch uske bare mein pata karoon, aur shayad mein kabhi na kar sakoon. Lekin mujhe uski awaz ka sound pasand aya, aur uske chappalon ki awaz bhi.
“Are you going all the way to Dehra?” I asked.
“Tum Dehra tak puray safar mein ja rahe ho?” maine poocha.
I must have been sitting in a dark corner, because my voice startled her. She gave a little exclamation and said, “I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
Mujhe shayad andhe pan ki wajah se kisi andhere kone mein bethna para tha, kyun ke meri awaz usay dara di. Usne ek choti si cheekh di aur kaha, “Mujhe nahi pata tha ke yahan aur bhi koi hai.”
Well, it often happens that people with good eyesight fail to see what is right in front of them. They have too much to take in, I suppose. Whereas people who cannot see (or see very little) have to take in only the essentials, whatever registers most tellingly on their remaining senses.
Acha, aksar hota hai ke log jo achi nazar rakhte hain, unko wo cheez nazar nahi aati jo unke samne hoti hai. Shayad unko zyada cheezen samajhne ki zaroorat hai. Jabke log jo nazar nahi dekh sakte (ya buhat kam dekhte hain) unhe sirf zaroori cheezon ko samajhne ki zaroorat hoti hai, jo unke baqi hisson ke zyadati hisson par sab se zyada asar karti hai.
“I didn’t see you either,” I said. “But I heard you come in.”
“Maine bhi tumhe nahi dekha,” maine kaha. “Lekin maine tumhe aate hue suna.”
I wondered if I would be able to prevent her from discovering that I was blind. Provided I keep to my seat, I thought, it shouldn’t be too difficult.
Main soch raha tha ke kya main usay andha hone ka pata chalne se bacha paunga. Agar main apni jagah par baitha rahun, toh yeh bahut mushkil nahi hoga, yeh socha.
The girl said, “I’m getting off at Saharanpur. My aunt is meeting me there.”
Larki ne kaha, “Main Saharanpur par utarne wali hoon. Meri khala mujhe wahan mil rahi hai.”
“Then I had better not get too familiar,” I replied. “Aunts are usually formidable creatures.”
“Toh phir main zyada friendly nahi hona chahiye,” maine jawab diya. “Khalaen usually formidable hoti hain.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Tum kahan ja rahe ho?” usne poocha.
“To Dehra, and then to Mussoorie.”
“Dehra, phir Mussoorie,” maine kaha.
“Oh, how lucky you are. I wish I were going to Mussoorie. I love the hills. Especially in October.”
“Oh, kitni khush nasib ho tum. Main bhi Mussoorie ja rahi hoti. Mujhe pahaaron se bohot pyar hai. Khaaskar October mein.”
“Yes, this is the best time,” I said, calling on my memories. “The hills are covered with wild dahlias, the sun is delicious, and at night you can sit in front of a logfire and drink a little brandy. Most of the tourists have gone, and the roads are quiet and almost deserted. Yes, October is the best time.”
“Han, yeh sabse behtareen waqt hai,” maine apni yaadon ko yaad karte hue kaha. “Pahaaron mein jangli daheliyon se bhara hai, suraj bohot lazeez hai, aur raat ko aap ek lakri ke aage baith sakte hain aur thoda sa brandy pi sakte hain. Ziyadatar seyahat karne wale chale gaye hain, aur raaste khamosh aur lagbhag khali hain. Han, October sabse behtareen waqt hai.”
She was silent. I wondered if my words had touched her, or whether she thought me a romantic fool. Then I made a mistake.
Usne kuch nahi kaha. Mujhe laga ke kya meri baatein us par asar daal gayi, ya phir woh mujhe romantic bewakoof samajhti thi. Phir maine ghalati ki.
“What is it like outside?” I asked.
“Bahar kaisa hai?” maine poocha.
She seemed to find nothing strange in the question. Had she noticed already that I could not see? But her next question removed my doubts.
Usne sawal mein kuch ajeeb nahi dikhaya. Kya woh pehle hi notice kar chuki thi ke main andha hoon? Lekin uska agla sawal mere shakon ko door kar diya.
“Why don’t you look out of the window?” she asked.
“Tum khirki se kyun nahi dekhte?” usne poocha.
I moved easily along the berth and felt for the window ledge. The window was open, and I faced it, making a pretence of studying the landscape. I heard the panting of the engine, the rumble of the wheels, and, in my mind’s eye, I could see telegraph posts flashing by.
Main aaram se berth ke saath chala gaya aur khirki ki parchi ko mehsoos kiya. Khirki khuli hui thi, aur main uske samne khada ho gaya, manzar ko jaanchte hue banawati taur par. Main engine ki dhaadkan, pahiye ki gurr gurrahat sun sakta tha, aur apne dimaag ki aankh se, main telegraph poles ko guzarte dekh sakta tha.
“Have you noticed,” I ventured, “that the trees seem to be moving while we seem to be standing still?”
“Kya tumne notice kiya hai,” maine (dobara baat krne ki) koshish ki, “aisa mehsoos hota k darakht chal rhe hain aur jab k hum ek jaga pr he hain?”
“That always happens,” she said. “Do you see any animals?”
“Yeh hamesha hota hai,” usne kaha. “Kya tumhe koi janwar nazar aaye?”
“No,”I answered quite confidently. I knew that there were hardly any animals left in the forests near Dehra.
“Na,” maine bharosa se jawab diya. Mujhe maloom tha ke Dehra ke qareeb ke janglon mein ab kuch janwar bachay hi nahi hain.
I turned from the window and faced the girl, and for a while we sat in silence.
Main khirki se munh mor kar larki ke samne aya, aur kuch waqt ke liye hum chup chap baithe rahe.
“You have an interesting face,” I remarked. I was becoming quite daring, but it was a safe remark. Few girls can resist flattery. She laughed pleasantly-a clear, ringing laugh.
“Tumhara chehra dilchaspi ka hai,” maine kaha. Main bohot daring ban raha tha, lekin yeh ek safe tajziya tha. Kuch larkiyan ta’aruf se nahi bach sakti. Usne khushiyon se bharpoor muskurahat di-a clear, ringing laugh.
“It’s nice to be told I have an interesting face. I’m tired of people telling me I have a pretty face.”
“Acha lagta hai ke mujhe kaha jata hai ke mera chehra dilchaspi wala hai. Main thak gayi hoon logon ko sunte hue ke mera chehra khoobsurat hai.”
Oh, so you do have a pretty face, thought I-and aloud I said: “Well, an interesting face can also be pretty.”
Oh, toh tumhara chehra khoobsurat hai, maine socha-main ne zehar diya-“Acha, ek dilchasp chehra bhi khoobsurat ho sakta hai.”
“You are a very gallant young man,” she said, “but why are you so serious?”
“Tum bohot bahadur jawan shakhs ho,” usne kaha, “lekin tum itne serious kyun ho?”
I thought, then, I would try to laugh for her, but the thought of laughter only made me feel troubled and lonely.
Main socha phir, ke main uske liye hansne ki koshish karunga, lekin hansne ka khayal sirf mujhe pareshan aur tanha mehsoos karane laga.
“We’ll soon be at your station,” I said.
“Jald hi tumhari station aa jayegi,” maine kaha.
“Thank goodness it’s a short journey. I can’t bear to sit in a train for more than two-or-three hours.”
“Shukar hai ke yeh choti si safar hai. Main do ya teen ghante se zyada train mein baith kar nahi reh sakti.”
Yet I was prepared to sit there for almost any length of time, just to listen to her talking. Her voice had the sparkle of a mountain stream. As soon as she left the train, she would forget our brief encounter; but it would stay with me for the rest of the journey, and for some time after.
Phir bhi main taiyar tha ke kisi bhi lambe waqt ke liye wahan baithun, bas uske baaton ko sunne ke liye. Uski awaz ek pahar ki nadi ki chamak thi. Jaise hi woh train se utregi, woh hamari chhoti mulaqat ko bhool jayegi; lekin yeh meri baki safar ke liye aur kuch waqt tak mere sath rahega.
The engine’s whistle shrieked, the carriage wheels changed their sound and rhythm, the girl got up and began to collect her things. I wondered if she wore her hair in bun, or if it was plaited; perhaps it was hanging loose over her shoulders, or was it cut very short?
Engine ki seeti chillai, carriage ke pahiye ki awaaz badal gaye, larki uthi aur apni cheezein ikattha karne lagi. Main soch raha tha ke kya usne apne baal gol banaye hain, ya shayad use lambi choti banai gayi hai; shayad aus k baal apni kandhon ke upar latak rahi hai, ya kya uske baal bohot chhote hain?
The train drew slowly into the station. Outside, there was the shouting of porters and vendors and a high-pitched female voice near the carriage door; that voice must have belonged to the girl’s aunt.
Train dheere dheere station mein dakhil ho gayi. Bahar, kuliyon aur bechne walon ki cheekhain aur carriage ke darwaze ke nazdik ek unchi awaz thi; wo awaz larki ke khala ki hogi.
“Goodbye,” the girl said.
“Alwida” , larki ne kaha.
She was standing very close to me, so close that the perfume from her hair was tantalising. I wanted to raise my hand and touch her hair, but she moved away. Only the scent of perfume still lingered where she had stood.
Woh mujhse bohot qareeb khari thi, itni qareeb ke uske baalon se aane wala itra bohot hi dilchasp tha. Mujhe apna haath uthakar uske baalon ko choone ka khayal aya, lekin woh door ho gayi. Sirf itra ka mahak ab bhi wahi maujood thi jahan woh khadi thi.
There was some confusion in the doorway. A man, getting into the compartment, stammered an apology. Then the door banged, and the world was shut out again. I returned to my berth. The guard blew his whistle and we moved off. Once again, I had a game to play and a new fellow-traveller.
Darwaze mein kuch uljhan thi. Ek aadmi, compartment mein dakhil hotay huay, ek maafi ke saath hichkichaya. Phir darwaza zor se band hua, aur duniya phir se baahir ki taraf band ho gayi. Main apne berth par laut aya. Guard ne apni seeti bajaayi aur hum chal pade. Ek baar phir, mere paas khailne ka mauqa aur ek naya saathi musafir tha.
The train gathered speed, the wheels took up their song, the carriage groaned and shook. I found the window and sat in front of it, staring into the daylight that was darkness for me.
Train tezi se chalne lagi, pahiye ne apna geet shuru kiya, carriage ghurane lagi aur hilne lagi. Main khirki ko dhoondh kar uske saamne beth gaya, din ke roshni mein andhere ko ghurne laga.
So many things were happening outside the window: it could be a fascinating game, guessing what went on out there.
Bahar khirki ke samne itni saari cheezen ho rahi thi: yeh ek dilchasp khail ho sakta tha, sochne mein ke wahan kya ho raha hai.
The man who had entered the compartment broke into my reverie.
Compartment mein aane wala aadmi ne meri khayalon ko todi.
“You must be disappointed,” he said. “I’m not nearly as attractive a travelling companion as the one who just left.”
“Tum ko shayad afsos hua hoga,” usne kaha. “Main utna bilkul bhi dilchaspi musafir nahi hoon jitna woh larki jo abhi chali gayi.”
“She was an interesting girl,” I said. “Can you tell me-did she keep her hair long or short?”
“Woh ek dilchasp larki thi,” maine kaha. “Kya tum mujhe bata sakte ho ke usne apne baal lambay ya chhotay rakhe the?”
“I don’t remember,” he said, sounding puzzled. “It was her eyes I noticed, not her hair. She had beautiful eyes-but they were of no use to her. She was completely blind. Didn’t you notice?”
“Mujhe yaad nahi,” usne kaha, pareshani se bhaari awaaz mein. “Mujhe uske aankhen yaad hain, na ke uske baal. Uski aankhen bohot khoobsurat thi – lekin unka koi faida nahi tha. Woh puri tarah se andhi thi. Kya tumne notice nahi kiya?
