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There was a sudden blast in October.

Tenth day of the yearly Durga Puja. This year, no disparity from the previous year. The tenth day is meant for throwing off the idols and statues of the goddess into the available rivers and streams and ghats. This is called bisharjan: adios. Three days celebrated. People wandered in crowds, thronged at mandaps ( where the idols were installed and puja ceremony held). Jalebis (a labyrinthine kind of sweet made of maida (flour), ghee and molasses) and varied sweety stuffs were opened out as usual. They are still there, even now after the festivity. People eat, roam, talk and watch…others.

Delhi is many miles from here. The weather is hot, sometimes sultry. And sometimes wet with occasional rain drizzle and heavy showers. The winter solstice took place a few days ago. And the weather is confused of wearing either summer or winter. Probably and damn probably, it will be wearing winter in its sleeve a few days later. People sleep now with the fans on but with the blanket by their side. The weather has made them confused as itself.

It is raining today. A few drops fell. It is a short drizzle. Neel and I are a little drenched. At the centre of the town, Kamrup. From everywhere, the idols are coming. It is adios time. People are dancing in the streets. Still, I think they should cry for the termination of the festival. But, they are dancing as they do every year during this time, on the puja ending day. Trucks carrying people and the idols of the goddess are passing by and people coming to watch this have crowded the streets all over. Police and military personals are employed for security. They line up the people sometimes, and again after some time the people make a crowd in the midst of the street. Again, it is the job of the security persons. We are watching below a flyover to avoid the drizzle. The people dancing and those that are in the trucks guarding the idols of the goddess have smeared red, pink and yellow colors at their faces. This is some customary ritual. A few in the trucks are throwing off rice at the people crowded there, all over. Often the rice gets struck onto my head. And, I am clearing them off one by one. Even, Neel is doing the same.

There is the photo of a man standing with his left hand directing towards the Biscon steel and shock absorber in a billboard. Adhered to it is another. A billboard displaying Levi’s bags. From below the flyover where I’m standing right now, the billboards are making me laugh for no reason. Perhaps, the smiling man of Biscon. His face brings in me a childishness. I’m laughing. Looking at me, Neel gives a smile and then asks the reason for that. I just nod. That means, nothing actually for the smile. There are firecrackers now being lit in the midst, where all the streets make a confluence. One keeps on bringing the firecrackers as soon as a set gets completed. Parachute bombs, gol chakkars and many names for these fire works. They are all lit to brighten the twilight. Gradually, it’s getting dark. Evening time now. 5:45 pm. The street lights are switched on. Neon bulbs make light all over. For a while, the Biscon man who seemed faded, soon came to view. Around twenty trucks, may be more passed with people dancing and throwing rice at each other and people in the streets. It’s almost over now. Salty water ran down my neck and forehead. I am perspiring. It’s sultry again after the rain.

Three days earlier, I landed at the airport. I was coming from Delhi. The journey of two and a half hours was hell. The baby didn’t stop crying incessantly. From the take-off to alighting. It was crying, crying and crying. Its parents were themselves confused. It seemed the baby had a habit of crying everywhere. Fed up. They were sitting next to me.

Landing at the airport, I was received by my friend, Neel who began to narrate facts that took place in my absence. First was the narration of an elopement. One of our friends had eloped a week earlier with a boy. She was not actually a good friend, but we used to talk sometimes. To be honest, she was not at all good looking. Sort of ugliness covered her. She didn’t have a pretty face, nor did she have an attractive body. Her height was around 5’1. Imagine, it’s too less. We never thought that that girl will fall in love with someone. And, even if she does, who will fall in love with her? We thought. But, some people think, in fact some people have to think that something is better than nothing or half a loaf is better than no loaf or sort of that substance. To look at it from the other side, it’s good that she’s at least married, with someone. Never mind those things. Her story gets completed.

(2)

Neel was talking to me. We are childhood mates, comrades, partners or whatever. I was excited listening to Neel. My intrigue arose at a higher degree. It was two days earlier his father came with stamped paper and threw it at the table.

We have had heard many times about his mother when we were kids. His mother was a Helen of her times. She was beautiful, very beautiful. Even now she is. But degeneration appears now. Some people even try to call her a slut. A whore she was for many. She used to talk to everyone with such courtesy that many fell upon her, even after marriage. People openly discussed and made fancies of her cunt. Her breasts, as we have heard later on, were perfectly orb shaped. She was lacking nowhere. An impeccable beauty, people say. It was heard that she slept with many people at Neel’s father’s absence during his stay at the Balipara tea estate. His father was, as we have heard and I have even met him many times long ago, a very patient being. He could patiently wait for an elongated limit. The limit was elongated for him. He was so tolerating that his limit extended long and seemed stretched out.

Once as we have heard, his mother was discovered sleeping with their neighbor’s uncle by her husband. And the news promulgated like wildfire. Everyone started knowing all in an impulse. The dignity which was there in the form of precipitation was also filtered out, making everything empty, void. She was completely labeled and regarded as a slut from then. But, his father remained silent. He grew stoic, more than earlier. In fact, he appeared like a numb person. As Neel narrated to me in deep anguish later, his mother apologized in front of her husband. And his father said nothing. He remained silent.

But, how much…? Once, he even tried to put the noose made of the counterpane over the neck hung above at the roof, but he was fortunate to have Neel beside him at that very moment. Neel was there to look at his father, when he saw the imminent disaster and took preemptive measures rapidly. His father was sent to the Vivekananda Kendra for a course in meditation and yoga. He did it and attained something like Moksha. He learnt not to be possessive of the world and its beings. He also learnt to be satisfied with his own life and own works. He was complacent and he learnt to be so.

Earlier, it was he who was uxorious. Love for his wife made him blind, deaf and dumb. Being cognizant of what his wife did or probably what she still does, he was always forgiving and was never ready to leave her, on any account. He always took a superficial eye on her. Never did he tried to know everything, even if he was made aware of it by many people. It was his prerogative to know being the husband. But, he always feared of losing her. He feared his fate, after her.

And, now he is relieved from all sorts of superficiality. He enquired at the doubtful part of his wife. He began to be apprehensive. And thus started tiffs at home between wife and husband. Regular tiffs evolved into wars and finally a lethal battle. So, the D-day arrived at last. Their tiffs had kept the neighbors in utter disturbance. They were regular complaining. But, who was going to stop them. They kept on fighting. And, at last the husband came with stamped papers. Decision was made. Divorce papers were ready.

Neel informed me that his mother signed it off late. And, they are now separate. Neel is nowhere. He sometimes stays at his mother’s and sometimes at his father’s. They did not yet file a petition for the child. No one else in the family except him. It was going on like that.

(3)

The days at Sonpur were now worth fancy. We cannot now get back those days. I, Neel, Nilu, Abhijeet, Nitu and many other friends. We were a group of uncountable friends. Many boys came from hither and thither and got themselves introduced. All sank into oblivion now. No one’s there. A single remained. Neel. He became my best friend later. But, we never disclosed formally that we were best friends or whatever. We knew each other, shared all accounts of our lives and we enjoyed each other’s company. The best thing is that we never got tired or fed up of being with each other.

It was during those days at Sonpur, we were so enthusiastic about cricket that we cannot even wait for our exams to get over to make the list of boys that would play cricket the next day of the termination of our exams. We would raise funds and buy prizes and cups. As soon as the exam finishes, we were ready. There’s no other thing in our minds. Only cricket. The entire day we would play. Had lunch. Again started playing until the darkness would succumb and compel us to leave the ground.

We had a large playground in front of our Sonpur house. And that was the attraction for many. People thought it was a public playground. But, it only belonged to our family. So, that was perhaps the sole reason of being able to be acquainted with lots of people, lots of friends that became gradually. It was not like we played only cricket. Although cricket was our favorite sport and we enjoyed playing it among all. But football, hockey and volleyball also conquered the playground at times. We even tried to play basketball at the same grassy field where we played cricket and football. It was just spirit, passion and enthusiasm. Nothing else is required to make a game success. We enjoyed being with each other. There were boys sometimes in the field who came with someone else’s reference of the field and knowing some amidst our friends. But, we welcomed everyone. In fact, we relished the matter of gaining more people. Everyday, we came across some new faces. All played together.

Even then I and Neel shared some intimacies. We had a mutual corroboration for each other, a comprehension among all the other faces. We understood each other’s decisions, problems and feelings at a single glance. There’s little need of unnecessary explanations. If others disagreed, I would always support him and let him be free and if I had any sort of nexus problem, he was always there to further the explanation to justify what I was really intending to do.

One day, it was decided by everyone that we would play somewhere else. We were beginning to feel irksome playing at the same ground every day. So, we decided to play somewhere near. And, we found a free space. That was not in fact a ground. But, a long street with less breadth. Still, we decided to play there. All gathered. Stamps anchored to the ground. That was Christmas time. We were playing. Probably, six overs were completed. I was on the field. The other team was batting then. Two beautiful girls landed rfrom the rickshaw. We were playing still. They passed us. They were carrying New Year’s greeting cards with them. That’s no deal at all. When they passed by me, I exclaimed. I don’t know why I exclaimed that day. But, I exclaimed. I addressed my friends, “Do you see, this time it’s so early people are making their cards.”

That was in the air. I simply talked with my friends. I was not aware, if that would act as a metaphor for some larger thing. Actually, that created a semantic field. I mean to say that, that statement acted like a teasing, leg-pulling, libeling or whatever statement for the passing girls. They thought that it was intended to tease them. Very bad. Eve teasing. They reciprocated a glance, a wrathful glance. That glance seriously intimidated me for the first time from an outsider and that was too, from two girls. I thought as if they would hang me up for that. Even then I was unaware of my mistake. Did I make any mistake, I seemed to think? The girls went by and we saw they passed through an iron gate. The gate was all over and the entrance was like a small rectangle. They had to bow down to enter through. Then, our eyes fall upon a flying banner above: Aditi Girl’s Accomodation. Oho, that’s the reason. But, what’s the reason?

We never thought that there was a girl’s accommodation behind. But, whatever it be, did I do anything? It was not my mistake. And even if they consider that to be a mistake, I didn’t intend it for that one. I was completely pure at heart and soul. We kept on playing. But, my mind was not there. I remained afraid of some imminent danger. I was in troubling waters. Everyone saw that, and instead of assuaging, they began to intimidate me more. Only Neel was there to say that, lets see if they return back. We would say that it was not intended to them and we’ll handle everything. He said to me not to worry. Still I remained afraid. I said, I would go back home. No more playing there. Everyone then came forward. They said, “Lets face it. Whatever it be. We are here with you. Now, come on, it’s your chance, play the game. Go and bat.”

I caught hold of the bat shuddering. God knew, what would come. Then, suddenly they appeared from inside. I was not aware that they were coming from behind. Someone among my friends indicated with his eyes. But, I couldn’t understand and may be I didn’t give any heed to that, as they were intimidating with the view of playing since I had come to bat. As I couldn’t look behind when I was batting. They enjoyed intimidating me by saying that the girls were coming from the back. And when I would look back, they would start laughing at me. I also thought once that perhaps, they were gathering all the girls of the hostel and if all of them come to teach some strict lesson to me, I would be a dead one there.

Now the girls approached. When they were near, I could feel some feminine smell. The smell of the fragrances of the deodorants and talc that the girls generally use to anoint all over their body made me aware of someone approaching. They came near me. I was batting. They said, “Hey, we’re talking to you. Listen, let yourself grow up first and then you go after teasing girls or whatever. Not now, ok. You are even smaller than my brother. We are like your elder sisters, aren’t we?” Their faces reflected a smile after that, as they went there was a kind of anger, that succumbed as it seemed after teaching me the lesson.

At that moment, I was angry although felt relaxed that they didn’t do anything drastic upon me. Indeed they realized that we were little boys. But, I said aloud that that was not meant for them. It was only a mere talk with my friends. But, they didn’t look back. They went away. Even my friends tried to convince them by saying along with me. But, they went. And, we never came across them again even later. Even though we stayed at Sonpur for three more years after that. Neel came near me and said to do away with all those and concentrate on the last game. He said that our playground was the best one and we would never come upon other’s grounds to play again. I batted and fortunately a 50 was made. We won the game by three runs. There was a mixed feeling that day. Many things occurred that was not really expected, not really thought. As those things were still outside our panoramic view at that age. I was around 13.

(4)

Now sometimes at Kamrup, I still hark back to Sanchi, my sort of girlfriend. We stay together often in Delhi. We still stay and we’ll be staying when I return back again after few days. We got ourselves introduced inside a bookshop in Delhi. It’s where I frequent for books. Sometimes to buy and sometimes simply for nothing. Sometimes to set the time going, I keep on leafing about the books and then finally I come out without buying any book. And at times, when I get engrossed in a book, I sit upon the stool unaware of myself, with legs crossed and often it happened that I complete the book there itself, if it’s not above 400 pages. That means if it’s a kind of novella. It happened many times, that the shopkeeper waited for me to come out so that his shop can be closed. And I would come out again without buying any book. Even then, he would say nothing to me. I asked him once, why would he not speak anything to me, when he saw often that I buy nothing yet keep his little space filled like a burden. He said that he liked people who had keen interest in books.

And, when he knew that I had written a book, he asked why I didn’t mention that earlier. I said it’s just a book of poems and I’m yet to write something that makes big. From then, I began to get more space in his store. I told him all about my family and he reciprocated with all kinds of his stories. Even now we exchange a lot. He’s around 50, not old enough. But still I address him as uncle. Whenever, I return back from home, he enquires about everyone in the family, their whereabouts, et al. We have a good rapport now, so to say.

So, there was Sanchi. She’d come to the store once in search of a book. If I’m not mistaken, the book should be of Michel Foucault. She was a student of Philosophy. And, I had a keen interest on philosophy, to boot. I was watching that beautiful girl over there talking to the shopkeeper. The man aiding in the shop grimaced when he heard Foucault, as if the book was not there in his shop. I was listening meticulously to each and every word of their conversation. The man searched the shelves and was about to say that that book was not there, and I became the hero bringing the book to the fore. I asked, “Are you in search of this? Do you like reading Foucault? Do you mind, if I ask you who your favorite thinker is as you’re a student of Philosophy I’ve heard, I beg your pardon for that? I’ve been noticing you from the time you’ve entered the store. I would say sorry again for that.”

She was surprised to hear from me and I don’t know what was that expression kind of. Was she angry or she blushed or…? No, she didn’t blush. She was not that kind of girl who would look at a boy with coy deference and blush. She was- is- a very confident girl. That’s where I caught her up. And the beauty was pristine for me. That augurs her persona still. I learnt a lot from her. Even she did, I hope so. Well, well the surprise was that the shopkeeper knew her.

When I was talking to her, uncle was shouting from behind, “She belongs to your place. Don’t you know her?” What? I don’t know if I was happy or angry or sad at that moment. Not of course sad. But, I didn’t know how to react. I reacted as if my entire life relied upon her. I was shocked, to be honest. Such a beautiful girl with enough smartness, a very postmodern kind of girl well aware of her ethnicity, global as well as local, that meant my kind of a girl was there standing in front of me, and that too from my place? It would never matter if she was from a different region. But, the thing is that we’re enough candid now in everything. The latter would have taken a bit of time.