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MacKenna’s Gold ||
Dr. ARUNSHANKAR'S ENGLISH VERSION OF MY 5th MARATHI SHORT STORY
॥ मॅकेन्नाज् गोल्ड ॥
Dr. ARUNSHANKAR'S ENGLISH VERSION OF MY 5th MARATHI SHORT STORY
॥ मॅकेन्नाज् गोल्ड ॥
The traffic constable blew a shrill whistle, so I
moved my Bullet[1]
to the side, braked, and came to a halt.
My bike was brand new … and the dealer had delayed
its delivery till 1 o’clock . On top of it, while giving possession of the bike,
he had handed over the address of Dadoo Painter and his labor charges, and
asked me to get the number plate painted on my way home.
It was a sweltering hot noon in April … and a queue
of ten odd customers was waiting in front of Dadoo’s shop … But recognizing me
-- his customer of more than a decade -- he shoved aside the job in hand, and
took up mine on priority.
By the time he finished, it was 2
o’clock .
To get early delivery of the bike, I had left home
without a proper breakfast … so I was now feeling strong hunger pangs … and I
was not only desperate to reach home as soon as possible, but also quite upset
that the constable probably wanted to touch me for a tenner.
He came ambling to me, obviously relishing the act
of reeling in a new fish.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” he opened, “a new bike … … …
eh? Beautiful…!! Riding a Bullet… … and at this age... … wow !!!” He was almost
drooling …
But I was not about to take heed of his suggestive
comments.
“What’s the matter, Officer? Why did you halt me… …
… eh?”
Eyeing the bike all over , he pressed on, “May I
see your R. C. Book please, Sir?”
I took it out of my pocket and handed it over to
him … … …
He opened it, checked it and dropped a bomb, “The
number of your bike is wrong, Sir!”
I jumped with consternation. “How can it be? I have
taken possession of the bike just an hour back !!” I protested.
“ May be… … Just looking at the number I knew it
was wrong, and whistled,” he explained. ,“Right now the series running at Pune
R.T.O. is MH-12-JE. MH-12-JF is yet to start, and the number on your bike is
MH-12-JF-6389!!” he made his case.
I set up the bike on its stand, and had a good look
at both the number plates. The constable was right. … … … In his alcoholic
stupor, Dadoo had forgotten to paint the lowest bar of E, leaving F in its
place!!!
“Sir,” the constable inquired, “has Dadoo painter
made these plates?”
I was taken aback! “Yes… … but how did you know?”
“He’s a confirmed drunkard, you know… … …Paints
whatever comes to his mind. Must have taken an extra shot before taking up your
job!!... … What else? Now listen to me… …”
“What is it now?” I probed cautiously …
“Don’t worry, Sir… … …, Nothing like that … …I
respect Bullet riders. But please don’t go ahead like this. The constable at
every crossing will halt you. Go right back to Dadoo, and get the number
corrected… … … okay?”
With this friendly advice, he even shook me by the
hand !! I slapped my forehead, and turned the bike back to Dadoo’s kiosk, cursing
his ancestors. !!!
Dadoo Painter was a unique specimen of humanity,
well known in Kolhapur
But Dadoo had two foibles, and those were quite
intractable. One was booze, the other was cinema. Both had a firm grip on him.
His breath would often give him away even quite early in the morning. But once
he took a brush in hand, he would paint such handsome plates that even sober
painters couldn’t match them.!!!
So far as cinema was concerned, he did not give a
damn for Hindi movies. He was a connoisseur of only English movies. however, having
failed to clear his matriculation, he could not understand the dialogues. But
that didn’t matter at all. He could follow the story just by looking at the
pictures.!! And funnily enough, it was this fad that had brought prosperity to
his trade!
Uma was then the only theater in Kolhapur
In those days, wrestling was a prime sport in and
around Kolhapur Kolhapur
To service these patrons, the Mr. GijawaNekar had
resorted to a smart strategy. With Dadoo’s help, he had set up a huge hoarding
in the frontage of the theater. At its top, five or six posters of the running
movie used to be displayed in one or two rows, and below them, in a space of 10
feet by 6 feet, the gist of the story in Marathi.[2] The rustic patrons now had
only to read the story first, and if they liked it, they could buy the tickets and go in to watch the movie.
The first movie to be released in this novel manner
was Ben Hur. The idea was successful beyond the wildest expectations. So much
so, that Ben Hur ran at Uma for full 52 weeks or a year at a stretch.!!
The manager then awarded the contract to Dadoo for
his lifetime, at whatever rate he demanded, with the bonus of seeing the movies
free. What else could Dadoo wish for?
For the next two decades, translator Gijawanekar
and painter Dadoo enjoyed unparalled success on this hoarding. Gijawanekar’s
translations were not only apt for the patrons, but their
titles also were appealing in the vernacular idiom. Here are some samples!
“Psycho” ® “Gone Berserk”
“To Hell and Back” ® “A Roundtrip to Hell”
“Wait Until Dark” ® “Hide and Seek”
“Guns of Navarone” ® “Cannons of Navrana”
“Magnificent Seven” ® “The Seven Who Galloped
Away” !!!
At any time, a crowd of fifty or so rustics wearing
colorful turbans could be seen in front of the hoarding. Their semi-literate leader
would be reading the story aloud, letter by letter, for all to slurp. And no
sooner than he shouted “That’s a real treat, folks. Let’s go in !!”, some fifty
to hundred tickets would be sold en bloc!!! That’s the kind of magic the
manager-painter duo had wielded on the turf. No wonder that the owner was damn
pleased with their performance!!!
Before long, Dadoo had opened his own shop … and even
employed a couple of apprentices. He would paint the story boards himself,
whereas the apprentice boys would paint the other plates.
Furious with frustration, I parked my Bullet in
front of Dadoo’s shop … and entered in a huff.
Two apprentice boys were painting a sign board for some local petrol station. Transliterated
from the vernacular to English, it read, :
“When
feeling pyatrol in cars, luk at meeter. No complent after. – By Order”!!
“Baloo,” I asked one of them, “who has made this
board?”
Pointing a finger at the other, he replied, “Andya
there … He is my shinier.”
So I asked Andya who had scripted the text. He
clarified, “Nobody wrote… … … Dadoo uncle told me by mouth.”
I slapped my forehead in exasperation, only to
realize that the great translator Mr Gijawanekar had just entered the shop.
“Hello Nana!... … … you here? And at this time?...
…Oh A new bike!!... … … Well, well, well.!! Congratulations. Where is Dadoo, by
the way?”
“Well, I have just arrived, and am also looking for
him.”
So he asked one of the boys, “ Hey you… …, come
here. Where is Dadoo?”
“He is there, inside … working on your hoarding
only … … since last night.!! You can go in … yes … go ahead.”
As we moved, he shouted in the direction of the
inner yard, “ Daadoo Uncle!! Gijawanekar Sir has come to see you… … … and Nana
Sir is also with him …”
“So, Baburao,” I inquired of Mr Gijawanekar, “What
is Dadoo painting? A new movie?”
“Yes, yes,” he said enthusiastically, “haven’t you
heard about MacKenna’s Gold? We are releasing it tomorrow … … That’s why all
this hurry and bustle … It has run for 18 weeks at Eros in Mumbai … … … and
still going house full !!! … so I thought of making a special hoarding … Then
this blighter started making excuses … So I blasted and tethered him to the
task …”
“But”, he continued, “in the rush of the moment, I
only gave him the story … and cleanly forgot to write the title … …that’s
why I have rushed here … Come, let’s see
what he has done so far.”
Mr Gijawanekar pushed me ahead of him into the
inner yard, and a strong smell of country liquor assailed our nostrils.”
With bloodshot eyes, Dadoo was cleaning the brushes
and the palette, and collecting the colored swabs scattered all over the place.
Beyond him, the 10 by 10 hoarding was covered with
scrap newspapers.
“Dadoo,” Mr Gijawanekar said, “I gave you the story
last evening … but forgot to give the title … So I have rushed here even before
taking my bath.”
“Didn’t matter at all, Baburao,” Dadoo replied
reassuringly. “After all, I am matriculation fail … … !!! … you understand?” he
continued. “I knew the job was urgent, so I prepared a title on my own. See
what a striking hoarding I have made.”
So saying, he unveiled the hoarding … … my jaw
dropped instantly,… and Baburao’s head started spinning !!
The story of Mackenna’s God had unfolded on the
hoarding in Daadoo’s shapely alphabets, culminating
into an ingenious bold title … … …
“ MAC ANNA’S[3]
GOLD ” !!!!!
Dadoo painter, with his masterly brush strokes under
the kick of a dizzying early morning shot, had reduced the great sheriff
MacKenna to a miserable local grocer.!!!
Stunned by Dadoo’s
dazzling genius, I burst out
laughing despite my hunger pangs … … and the equally great translator Baburao
Gijawanekar went on slapping his forehead … his eyes popping out of their
sockets at Dadoo’s daredevilry!!!
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DR. ARUNSHANKAR
26 th MAY 2014.
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