A girl peeped out of the window staring at the dismal face of the beggar woman standing outside begging for alms. She was about seventy-seventy five years old with wrinkles criss crossing her face although which once might have been a perfect picture of a dignified woman. Limbs trembling as if unable to stand the immense burden it has been subjected to bear for so many years now. The little girl called her mother-“ma, dekho na poisha chaiche, amader shirite boshe poreche…” The little girl stood there, beside the door with a bewildered look at the sight of such an old person. A mixture of pity and curiosity made her stand there until her mother appeared with a one rupee coin in her hand. “nao ma, eta diye dao” She turned her back to go back to the kitchen when the old woman said-“ektu jol hobe ma…khub teshta peyeche”.
The old woman was wearing a shabby, torn white saree with a stick on her hand to support her. There was a strange calmness and stolidity on her face which was so different from the other paupers. There was a stern appeal in her eyes, so expressive as if demanding conscious attention. Shraboni, with a dismal face stretched out her hands to give her the one rupee coin. The old woman was tired and thirsty so much that her voice choked-the last words were almost inaudible. Shraboni opened the gate of their house and pulled her in to make her rest in the verandah. There is a strange under current of placid satisfaction revealed in her expressions which made her distinguished. She could not sit even for a while but lay down in the verandah-“ Amake ektu shute debe maa, ami ektu porei chole jabo…”
Mr Sen, a diligent businessman came out in the verandah, hearing a unknown voice for quite sometime now. “ki holo, e ki ke shuye ache amader baranday?” The little girl replied much before her mother could say anything “baba, ma o k bhetore dhukiyeche gate khule, jol kheye shuye poreche, mone hoy ashustho, tai na baba?” the girl pleaded.
“Katodin na korechi achena kauke ebhabe jokhon tokhon barir moddhe dhukte dio na…jano na char dike kemon churi dakati hochche?” Shraboni replied from the kitchen “tumi ghore dhoko to, chechiyona. Eto boyeshko mohila, ki kashto bolo to, rastay rastay ghure berate hochche dubela du muthor jonno…Before she could complete her words her husband shouted “ Bah! Bhalo bolecho to, tobe r ki, ei rokom abosthar shikar jara, shongshar tongshar chere tader sebay lege porlei to paro…” “Ami to tai cheyechilam, tumi r ta hote dile koi?” Shraboni had just passed her graduation when she was married to Mr. Sen. She had an immense zeal to work for the downtrodden, deprived destitutes. She was engaged with a NGO from the year she passed her +2 exams. She had been an active member of their several projects but after marriage she had to sacrifice this.” Ghar shangshar r samaj
The old lady got up suddenly from her sleep with a cry that escaped her throat unknowingly which compelled the inhabitants of the house to emerge out in the verandah. Perhaps…she saw a dream or might be that she had heard the voice of her son “maa, ami tomar kache jabo…” and tears flooded down her eyes. She became restless, a panic was visible in her eyes. Sheaboni felt there was something that was disturbing the old lady. She patted the old woman on her head, went inside and in a plate brought back dal, bhat and shabji, “ ei tuku kheye nao, keu kichu bolbe na, ami bolchi…” The old lady gave an alarming look towards Shraboni. Then she gulped the food as fast as she could, might have been hungry for several days now…She recalled the golden days of her prime, when she was as much settled, responsible and a dedicated woman as Shraboni now. She lived with her only son Rohan in their
One day when her son was at school, the front door bell rang…As she opened the door she saw officers of the aviation dept. carrying a suitcase. It hardly took seconds for Mrs.Sengupto to recognize the same which she had packed with her own hands. The officers stood before the door with a strange look of mourning on their visage. She asked deliberately for a reply of such a gesture but in vain. “ki hoyeche, apnara ebhabe chupchap dariye achen keno…bolun na ki hoyeche?” She stepped out and saw the corpse being laid outside the periphery of their house. That was thirty five years ago…From then on, she had to struggle and tread the thorny ways of life for the only meaning of her life then, her son. The road was not smooth and paved for them. Both of them had to travel a long distance in order to defeat the crafts of Destiny. Rohan, right from his childhood had an ambition to become a pilot, gain the name and fame earned by his father, step out into his shoes with much more accomplishments to his credit. He had often whilw sleeping dreamt of his father talking to him in that husky voice of his, “ babu, dekhish tui amar cheyeo baro pilot hobi…” this would provide the required inspiration and instigated the child further more to achieve his goal. He craved to attain this, the only desire. The day arrived after years of toil, hard days of trials and tribulations when he became a pilot and made his mother proud. Rohan left his home this time to be on his first flight with blessings from his mother. A sudden feeling of disgust, fear and agony filled up Mrs. Roy’s heart. She grasped her son close within her arms and kissed his forehead.” Shabdhane jash r taratari fire ashish, baba. Ami apekkha korbo tor jonno…” The flight was to take off at 7.30 in the morning. He left home wearing the uniform which suited his sharp features and well built body, nourished with the love and care of his mother. Memories crowded before Rina’s eyes. It had been the same way before…She was busy doing the household chores and preparing the favorite dish for her son. She took a speedy look at the clock in the dining room, it was thirty-five minutes to seven, the flight must have took off…it was his first flight…Rohan deliberately wanted his mother to accompany him to the airport but she drifted apart from the proposal. Since her husband’s death the airport seemed to her a fiend and the plains were as if murderers which had snatched the dearest possession of her life from her…she could see the mark of vermillion on her forehead…” tomake ki shundar lageshindur pore, ekdom lokkhi protima…”but this did not last long…an eternal blank lay ahead, she had no idea. She never wanted her son to be a pilot like his fatherbut the boy and his father wished this to be the destiny. Again, a quick look at the clock which now struck at 7.40…
She was about to sit for her prayer when suddenly the phone rang, krinng! krinng!... She thought of the various possibilities about the person on the other side of the line…her son, may be he wanted to share his happiness with his mother of the first experience of flying in the air or her brother calling from London-the only associate of their family who had kept contact since the death of her husband…or some relative…no…the last thought had no chance. The relatives from her in-laws side had stayed away from her, perhaps they thought they had to take their responsibilities. They had offered her to sell the house and live in a rented house but she was never ready to do so…every nook and corner of the house seemed to be filled with the memories of her husband…no question of leaving…and since then they had stayed away. A deep and thoughtful sigh…she held up the receiver to her ears…”Hello…Mrs.Roy speaking…ki…ki kore holo…eta ki kore shambhab?”...the receiver hanged from the down from the phone stand and she sat down in want of breath, feeling as if a large stone had been thrust on her. She almost lost her senses after that, as if time and tide had lost their significance and she cried to survive…but how could she do so…without her son…Co-pilots and other officers carried the corpse of her son, within an hour. It was a stern reality, hard to accept…but had to be realized as early as possible.
Rina had roamed for several days since then in the streets searching for her son, loosing the balance of her mind… “shoke dukkhe ekdom pagol hoye gelo…ki theke ki hoye gelo…” She had been admitted to one of the nearest asylums by her relatives. It took several years to recover her normal composure, but no one came to take her back home. She went to her house only to get it locked and see the notice of auction…terrible…how could they do that…she went to a relatives house who on querry answered that this was quite inevitable as there was no other way and threatened her not to trouble them in doing so…lost in the world she had to fight for earning mere bread…no way of survival left…she had craved to die but to no avail…death couldn’t come when wanted… “Amake lorai korei bachte hobe” From then on she had been a pauper on the streets struggling against the forces of destiny.
“Amar khaowa hoye geche…nao ma, shukhi hao, swami shongshar niye shukhe ghar shongshar karo” She left from Shraboni’s house. She stepped outside, a feeble figure counting the last years, may be months, days or even minutes of her life…
The next day when early morning Mr.Sen went to the near by bazaar, he saw a croud gathered with their sole attention to something, he moved forward to see what had happened. To his utter surprise he saw a feeble body in a white torn saree …He couldn’t control his emotions, ran to his home to tell his wife but when they arrived the body had already been carried in a municipality van. “ ki r hobe, dekhun katodin kichu khete pay na” “ ha, kal raatei mara geche nishchoi, aj bhore oi machwala body-ta dekhte pay” “are moshai erom khider jalay protidin-I kato lok mara jachche”. Soon people were busy in there daily chores…Mrs.Sen couldn’t eat anything that day…the face of the old lady as if tortured her…but life had to take its own course…
1 comment:
nice one dear!!but the blog's getting monotonous....try and wrest the trend :)
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