Chapter 1
BED NUMBER-29 
Tariq Rahman
A man, whose hobby was painting, met with an accident and lost his eyesight. While he was in hospital, Naeem, his wardmate, encouraged him to paint again. Naeem described different scenes and he painted them. Naeem left hospital before the author got his eyesight back. Who was Naeem and why did he leave the hospital?
The author met with an accident
Brakes shrieked, something struck, someone cried and there was darkness spreading all around me. Pain leapt in my whole body and a gentle voice said, “Please don't move, sir. It might be dangerous." I tried to understand what had happened -I recalled the predawn glow; trees and flowers, the dew bathed grass,- all waiting for the sunrise -I had imprisoned this all on the canvas, my masterpiece, the joy of life. So I named it ‘Life' - then I remembered the busy street scene, the roar of traffic, the car - and the crash. My hand touched the bandages on my eyes. “No God," I moaned, “not this.”
Author meeting with Naeem
My life was a nightmare of sounds, feelings, smells, tastes and dreadful depression. It was a cage of darkness which held me prisoner-darkness and me, that's all. Time stood still, the sun rose no more for me, the bloom of flowers, the streams and the clear sky were just memory. Life seemed to be dying with me. Hour after hour I would lie on the bed as if staring at the ceiling. “How do you do?” He was my wardmate, Naeem, who was known as Number Twenty Nine, that being the number of his bed. A soft-spoken, cheerful man who comforted me with many a story, diverting my mind from the shocking realities of life. Except he limped and was on Bed No. 29,1 hardly knew anything about him. He wonderfully described the birds hopping among smiling brightness of the morning that I imagined I could see the scene myself “Go on," I would urge, whenever his voice stopped. Thus he would minutely describe the scene outside his windows the whole day. This gave hope to me.
“Listen”, he said one morning. “Start painting, which, as you said, was your hobby before." I lashed out at him. I shouted, getting hysterical, that he had no right to joke about my art. He limped away to his bed.
Author talking with Naeem
Days passed. Then one day I asked him if he had been moved by anything. “Yes," he began slowly, “well, many things." He suddenly brightened. “Ah Yes! Once I walked by a farmhouse, on a golden October evening and I saw a haystack. It wasn't straw, it was pure gold. All around the world was ablaze with colour -red leaves, white ducks, basking in the last golden rays of the sun setting on.the blood-red west. There I stood and gasped, unable to move" - "What ?" I cried, "didn't you paint it?" There was an uneasy silence which embarrassed me for having asked such a question, after all, I thought, everyone is not an artist. “I mean, I would have painted it,” I said hurriedly. “Why don't you paint? It is in my mind, and I know you can paint. Do, please, say yes." He pleaded, and before I knew what I did, I said, “Yes”.
My life took a new turn. He had provided everything needed for painting, and when the hospital attendants cried out in surprise as they entered the room, he made them quiet. Then the miracle started, with eager but almost trembling finger, I started drawing a scene I had once admired. I laboured on and on sketching the scene from the canvas of my memory on the paper, too absorbed to think of my blindness. I finished the scene and in a shaky voice called for Naeem. He bounded to my bed, for a while I heard nothing. My heart sank. “I must have bungled it,” I thought. Then his voice broke the silence. "It's marvellous. It's unbelievable, you're a genius, man, a genius, who would say you are blind," I felt relaxed and I said, “Really! I could never believe, had it not happened with myself."
Naeem describing scenes
Every morning, after breakfast, Naeem would come to my bed, in a dreamy voice he would describe a scene, which I would work from dawn to dusk as if the day would never end. One canvas finished and another started. It was wonderful. Naeem would make me draw all the magic dreamland scenery. Losing myself in his world of colours, forgetting my blindness, I created on paper all he said. He always praised me and I became more and more convinced of my genius. He would himself mix the colours, and suggest a faint shade here, a dark line there.
It was then that the doctors operated upon me again. Naeem had taken over the work of reading to me or describing a scene from my window, as I was unable to move from the bed. As days passed, my anxiety increased - partly because I wanted to see the world of colours with my own eyes, but mostly because I had spent my last rupee on this very operation, and in case of failure, I would have to lead the wretched life of darkness and misery.
I went to the doctors' room with the nurse, when Naeem came and said, “It's a beautiful day, I hope you see it soon." I tried to answer but there was a lump in my throat.
I smelt the smell of the operation theatre, I felt gloved hand touching me gently. My bandage was being unwound. The clock ticked and a voice said, “Open your eyes” and I opened my eyes. There was the same unending darkness.
I was back in my room, helped by the nurse. So there was my life - full of darkness. I buried my head in the pillow. Naeem was on my side - consoling me. “I will be going soon, Naeem," I said sadly one day. “I have no money now, this operation cost me all I had.” He was shocked. "Oh No! I have some money, you can have it,” he said softly. I replied firmly, “Thanks, Naeem. I have never begged nor will I, thanks all the same.” He tried to persuade me, but I didn't listen.
Four Seasons Paintings
One afternoon, Naeem came running to my bed, “Listen, old fellow, there is a friend of mine who is an art lover. He wants to buy your paintings.” “How can that be, they must be awful!" I thought. “He is rich, we can strike a bargain." I consented and Naeem danced around the room with joy. Next day he handed me some crisp banknotes. My happiness knew no bounds. Hope soared once again. Once again I was living for something.
Four seasons Paintings
I took to painting again. Every morning Naeem would sit by my side, and begin his dreamy tale. I drew on and on. The unknown buyer appeared off and on and bought my paintings. Naeem described scenes of the four seasons with such feelings, especially the sunset ones - pink, purple, white, violet and all shades of gold were splashed before my 'mind's eye'.
All my paintings had been bought, and I found myself ready for the third operation. After the operation, when I regained consciousness, I was told not to move or speak with anyone. When my bandage was to be opened I asked for Naeem, but the nurse said he was ill, and could not come. The doctor removed the bandage and when I opened my eyes, a flash of light tore through my eyes - I could see.
Letter of Naeem
They wheeled me back to my room. I cried, “Naeem, Naeem. Sister, where is Naeem?” The nurse's face turned pale as she handed me Naeem's letter - "The goddess of art smiled on me, and then as quickly as she had come she vanished. Mad with grief, I rushed to the cupboard and there lay all my paintings. Mere masses of haphazard lines, without any colour. The nurse spoke, “He was a very great man. With all his money he bought these paintings and moved out of the hospital when he couldn't afford it. He couldn't have his third operation."
“What,” I cried, "operation? Which operation?”
"Why? His eyes, of course, he was blind," she said. I was unable to move for some time. Tears blinded my eyes.
Paintings under the Pillow
Under his pillow were four paintings he had painted of the four seasons before he was blind. He described those paintings to me - and tried to paint them on my canvas. Tears blinded my eyes as I held his paintings in my hand.
A. GLOSSARY
1. Shrieked: made a loud noise
2. Nightmare: unpleasant situation
3. divert: to take someone's attention away from something
4. Lashed out: criticized in anger, spoke angrily
5. Hysterical: shouted in an uncontrolled way
6. Ablaze: full of bright colours
7. Gasped: took a deep breath
8. Embarrassed: ashamed
9. Laboured: worked hard
10. Absorbed: interested in something
11. Bounded: ran with long steps
12. Bungled: did something very badly
13. Marvellous: wonderful
14. Lump: feel pressure in the throat
15. Consented: agreed
16. Off and on: from time to time
17. haphazard: irregular, not in order
B. COMPREHENSION QUESTIONS:
1. How did the author of 'Bed Number-29' lose his eyesight?
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Answer:- The author lost his eyes in an accident.
2. What did the author of 'Bed Number-29 do before he lost his eyesight?
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Answer:- He was a painter and paint pictures before lost his eyesight.
3. Who did the author of 'Bed Number-29' meet in
the hospital ward? Why was he there?
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Answer:- The author met ‘Naeem’ in the hospital ward. Naeem was also blind and admitted for the operation of his eyes.
4. When did the author regain his confidence and
how?
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Answer:- Naeem urged him to start painting again. Naeem highly paise the paintings. Thus author regain his confidence.
5. What happened when the author's second
operation failed? Who consoled him then?
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Answer:- The author was very disappointed. It was Naeem who consoled him and offered him help.
6. How did the author of 'Bed Number-29' get the
money to get operated the third time? Who helped
him?
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Answer:- Naeem helped him. He buy each painting made by the author and spent all his money.
7. Where was Naeem when the author regained his
eyesight?
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Answer:- Naeem buy each painting made by the author and spent all his money. So he had left the hospital.
8. Did the author know that Naeem was also blind
like him? Give reasons to support your answer.
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Answer:- The author did not know that Naeem was also blind like him. Naeem would describe the scene and highly praise the painting. So author could never imagine that Naeem was blind.
9. Why could Naeem not get his treatment done?
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Answer:- Naeem buy each painting made by the author and spent all his money. Now he had no money for his treatment.
10. How did the author feel when he learnt that
Naeem had left the hospital because he had no
money for the treatment?
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Answer:- The author was deeply shocked, stuck and his eyes were filled with tears.
11. How could Naeem describe different seasons in
detail?
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Answer:- Naeem was also an artist. He had painted four paintings of different seasons. He had described the colours of these paintings.
12. What does the message “The goddess of art
smiled on me.... and then it vanished” mean?
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Answer:- Author regained his eyesight. He wanted to see Naeem. When he read Naeem's letter all his hope was dashed.
