Friday, October 30, 2009

Mercy

I: 30.10.2009

It was his third round of walking through that compartment. Only one man has boarded the train, and he was sleeping.

Bhola has pointed him out from the window and Guddu started his operation. He went past the man three times to assure he was asleep. He even pulled out his broom and cleaned the compartment clean but the man never stirred.

One of his hands covered his eyes and he was stretched on the lower birth.

While he was cleaning the compartment Guddu checked his luggage, there was a big suitcase and a small bag. Bhola has seen some costly things inside that bag when that guy was putting the bottle of mineral water in the bag.

Guddu softly reached out his hands and grabbed the handle of the bag.

A chill ran down Guddu’s spine when he felt that his hand was caught by an iron grip. He blankly stared at the rigid face of the owner of the bag he was expertly fumbling, he did not even imagined that the guy was studying his every movement.
He was one of the dozens small boys hanging around the station in rags, he did not knew who his parent were, the older boys of his group told him that they have found him crying on the platform and have taken him in their gang.

All these small ones, their ages ranging from five to sixteen or seventeen year olds spent their days and nights in the platform, begging and stealing. Sometimes the railway police used to pick them up and after some boxing of ears they were let off again.
The older boys taught him the skills of begging and stealing. He has become an expert thief, but today his luck just betrayed.

Their eyes were interlocked. The guy was looking at him calmly and his eyes were filled up with horror.

“Give him a solid thrashing. Dirty thieves. Why do their parents breed them if they cant feed them.” a guy growled, he has just entered the compartment with his luggage.

Guddu shivered with fear. He knew very well what happens after being thrashed by public. A few months back one of their older boys was caught stealing, he did not even made it to the hospital.


II

The guy caught his hand and took him out of the train compartment. He started to walk toward the RPF office holding his hand firmly.

“Hi! I am Major R. Bose. This boy was trying to snatch my bag. Would you mind if I take him along with me? If his parents come searching for him send them to me.” He handed the inspector his card.

“I know him. he is an orphan. So his parents wont come looking for him.” The inspector said. “Do you want me to register a case?”

“No. if it can be avoided. I am taking him with me then.” The man smiled and left the office.

A few hours later Guddu was sitting with him in his drawing room. His wife and daughter were sitting in another sofa.

“I brought him home Kamalika, I just could not leave him there. So many times I have seen these urchins shrivelling up before their time.” The man was saying.

“You did the right thing darling.” She smiled.

Another hour later Guddu was wearing a clean set of dress and eating his lunch with them.

Thus he became a part of Major Raktim Bose’s family. Major Bose adopted him after an year. He started to bring him up with deep affection.

Major Bose’s daughter Chaiti was a few years younger than him.

Guddu was christened as Kamalesh, he was a very intelligent boy and shined like a diamond under Raktim and Kamalika’s care.

Years flew by. Kamalesh became a doctor and started his career in army. He lived with his parents, whereas Chaiti was married off to a NRI settled in New York.


III

Kamalesh fell in love with Reva, they got married soon. She was the only child of another army officer. A free willed girl.

A few months later frictions started to crop up, Reva was born and brought up in a reckless environment, both her parents were busy with themselves, she just grew up, without any guidance from them. she was absolutely habituated of having her ways whereas her inlaws were quite disciplined.

Her parents kept on insisting her to shift with them, they were feeling lonely without her.

She controlled her parents and thought she will be able to control Kamalesh too, well she was wrong. She tried all the weapons, even tried to brainwash him using his past but failed.

To Kamalesh they were his true parents, actually greater than them. So he made his stands clear to Reva and she too stopped banging her head on wall.

After trying for a few years she resigned. Then she did not had much choice either because their love has borne its fruit, a little angel was illuminating their world, their daughter tiyasa.

She was the sweetheart of the whole family and neighbours. A child beautiful like a doll. Talkative as a small brook rushing down a hill. Always talking, always running like her.

Every thing was perfect in that home; the disharmony crept in from blue sky. One morning they received a phone call from Chaiti’s in-laws.

Chaiti’s husband Dinesh has passed away in a horrible accident which has left Chaiti permanently disabled. She is in Mumbai with them.

They rushed to Mumbai and brought back Chaiti with them. Her in-laws gave in after seeing the devastated look on Kamalika’s face.

IIII

Chaiti started her therapies at army hospital but the therapist was not much optimist. He told Major Bose in discretion that chances were almost zero.

The girl who was full of happiness and joy transformed into a petulant woman. Kamalesh remembered her last visit, she and Tiasa have driven every one crazy. They used to sleep together at night; Tiasa has absolutely forgotten her own parents during her stay.

She tried to warm up to her pishimoni the moment she saw Chaiti but met cold refusal.

She was drowning in her misery and every one else was slowly giving in to her sorrow. The worst sufferer was Tiasa.

All of a sudden all her actions were under censored. She was forbidden from talking, running, playing….. the home became a cage for that little bird.

Reva was writing some letters in the front porch, Tiasa was running around in the lawn, screaming, shouting.

She turned her face at a sound and saw Chaiti passing by her in her wheel chair, her lips were firmly sealed together, resembling a thin line. She looked at Tiasa with irritation and wheeled toward the kitchen.

Reva got up and entered the lawn. Tiasa rushed towards her and hugged her tightly. “Ma catch a butterfly for me!!!! Please ma!!”

“Titi, you have to do one thing for me, will you do it darling?” she asked her.

“What ma?” she asked back, sitting firmly on her lap, wrapping her small arms around her neck.

“You used to sleep with pishimoni when she came here last year, you remember?” she asked. “Can you sleep with her again?”

“No ma! Pishimoni does not love me any more.” Tiasa said.

“She does titi, but she is sad that is why she does not plays with you anymore. You remember Moshai? A naughty ghost took him away and he comes to scare pishimoni at night.”

“If you sleep with her at the night the ghost will be scared to scare her and she will play with you again. But you have to promise me another thing; you will not tell pishimoni any thing. Promise?”

“Okay ma!!!” She answered wisely.

Reva went back to the house, Chaiti was sitting in her room. She was surprised to see Reva making arrangements of Tiasa’s sleeping in her room.

“Tiasa was begging to sleep with you like she did before.” Reva said and left the room before she could say any thing.

Next morning when Kamalika entered Chaiti’s room she was not there. She went out to the porch and saw her sitting on the lawn, Tiasa on her lap, both inspecting something which Tiasa was holding in her hand. She tiptoed back to the kitchen.

7 comments:

  1. This one I remember. Nicely extended. But it can't go much far in its original version. Well I am curious to know what you will do to it

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  2. dearest sam,
    i dont want to touch the real spirit of this story, i will only give it some weight.
    its one of my favourites too :)

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  3. i just loved this story, i have seen these boys in howrah station and it is really painful to see them, sniffing drugs and huddling together in rags to fight cold.

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  4. Aristotle in his poetics says that, in remembrance or in art pain transforms into pleasure. I cam imagine how you felt ;)

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  5. pain doesnot transforms in pleasure for me, sorry my senses are absoluely alert.

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  6. My God this is in response to something I said about liking your lovely stories and keeping alert to read them is it?

    Comments are just comments dearest Trisha. They only say that you are beautiful. I am not the guy who go for subtitles. I say everything in my mind at any time.

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