Excerpt

snake catcher thumbnail Snake Catcher

by Naiyer Masud

from The Woman in Black
As I was passing under the tree I heard the voice of the old surgeon.

“Come here,” he called to me. I turned to walk over to him.

“Come closer.”

I drew nearer. He put his hand on my shoulder, pulling me down toward him.

“Her feet are stuck together,” he whispered. “The first thing is to separate them. That is usually extremely painful. She may writhe and thrash about. Perhaps I won’t be able to hold her still by myself. I may no longer have the strength.”

I looked at Nusrat. There was panic in her eyes; still, she was trying to smile.

“Maybe if you talked to her and somehow kept her occupied…,” the old man whispered again. “Said things that would take her mind off me, completely off me. For if she suddenly jerked her feet, things would go badly for her. I mean her left toes would snap off. Don’t let that happen. When I gesture to you, keep her mind off what I’m doing. Make sure she remains absolutely still, and I mean absolutely still.”

Next he said something funny but couldn’t make her laugh, so I began telling her some anecdotes from earlier in the old man’s life. I spoke of his achievements in the field of surgery about which I’d heard; in the meantime the old man went on examining her feet from various angles and placing them on the ground in different ways.

I talked for a long time. I told her interesting tidbits about our family. Then I began to talk about her. But it could not have amounted to much, or been very coherent. What did I really know about her? All the same, I tried not to let her sense that thought. I now had the distinct impression that she no longer was thinking about the old surgeon. Throughout, I would glance at him intermittently. I saw him indicate that I should be ready.

“And do you know, Nusrat, what came to my mind the very first time I saw you?” I couldn’t even remember when that had been. Nonetheless I continued: “Do you know what crossed my mind that day? It seemed to me that you were walking on flowers.” I realized at once what an awful mistake this was and hastily proceeded to say, “Should I tell you something about your hands, Nusrat—something I believe nobody else could ever tell you?”

Right then I saw the old man make that unmistakable sign. I quickly took hold of both her hands and pressed them hard.

“Should I tell you?” I whispered. Almost at once I heard harsh voices rise from the direction of the outer room and then melt away. Precisely then her hands trembled in my grasp. I saw her face turn blue, then red, and then ashen white. She bit her lips and her eyes expressed terrible agony.

“It’s all right,” I heard the old man say. “It’s absolutely fine. Well done! I will be able to heal her now. Just wait and see.”

I turned toward the old man. He had spread his hands over Nusrat’s feet, hiding them completely. I wanted to see what exactly he had done, but he sharply refused.

“Don’t look at her feet,” he said, “and don’t let her look at them either.”

I turned my face away and looked up at the spider webs stuck to the branches of the tree. It was absolutely quiet all around, except for the occasional soft clink of the surgical instruments. In anxious anticipation I waited for the old man to say something. And he did, finally, “You may go now, if you like, and attend to your own business. I can handle the rest myself.”

Only then did I realize I was still holding her hands. She had put her face back down on her knees and her hands were damp with sweat. I let go of them, got up and, even though aware that I was already too late, began to walk toward the outer room.

A deathly hush had now swept over the room. The chairs were in total disarray, and some hastily scribbled scraps of paper lay near some of them. I collected the scraps. The scrawled writing marked the consultations which had taken place among the elders and honorable guests. I put the chairs back in order. I had a hard time deciphering the writing on the scraps, but once I had mastered it I tried to ascertain the events that had taken place during my absence. I arranged and rearranged the scraps in many different ways but failed completely to make any sense of them; as soon as I changed their order the events they were supposed to represent also underwent a complete change. I wasted a considerable amount of time juggling those scraps and was none the wiser for my effort. My interest, tremendously aroused by the sight of them, began to dampen and then vanish altogether. The room, lined with curios, began to suffocate me. I felt I couldn’t stay there any longer. As I was leaving the room I noticed that the glass lay undisturbed near the door where I had set it. I didn’t bother to pick it up; instead I headed straight for the tree.

But there was only the carpet of yellow leaves beneath it. I furtively looked at the portico of the old surgeon. It was empty, although still filled with smoke.