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Sleepless night
The mystifying sweet fragrance of the air freshener spread the room made Manab pause for a moment. Unknown yet familiar. A question then hit his mind. Where did Sujata get it from? Oh, she was a shopaholic! And money was not a problem for Manab.
Money, money! Loads of money. It was like possessing Alladin’s Lamp that brought him fortunes. What he touches turned into gold. And his touch was like that of King Midas. So gold in plentiful, gold everywhere; is gold cheap or in abundance? Might be. His fingers grope for something around his neck. Two thick gold chains decorating his neck. He was not sure if a gold chain can beautify the neck of a man? But it was believed that gold chain was a symbol of richness. A sense of pride. When, for the first time he wore a gold chain, he was desperate for a ‘V‘ neck shirt to show off. His happiest moment was when he stood in front of the mirror. But this was only three years back.
And his wife Sujata? With a thin chain sparkling on the bare half of her bosom. Bangles on her wrists and the rings on her manicured fingers, glittering.
A visit to the jewelry showroom had become a day–to-day habit of Sujata. Jiya, their only one-and-a-half-year-old daughter was also wearing a gold chain, a pair of earrings and a bunch of bangles made of 24 carat gold.
Whatever he touched turned into gold. On the occasion of Xuddhi ceremony, annaprashan and birthdays, Jiya always received a handful of the yellow metal as gifts. And when they returned home after entertaining the guests at the grand party in a Star hotel flaunting their wealth, tired Sujata would murmur at night about the gifts Jiya received. Those incidents were still in his memory. They carried home those gifts.
All those expensive gifts were from the ministers, bureaucrats, police officers, student leaders, contractors and businessmen. Those who were invited were at par with Manab in terms of status and abundance.
Jiya… Jiya…
While resting his head on Sujata’s bosom Manab focused his gaze on sleeping Jiya. Oh, his beloved daughter! His own flesh and blood. He has a strange fondness for her. Always desperate to see her no matter where she would be. A soft corner for her in his rock like heart. When Jiya uttered the word deuta with her mumbled voice, his stiff unkind heart would start to melt. And even if he did not wish to come home he would drive for six hours from Guwahati just to see her. He did this the same this morning.
He spread his arms wide and carefully touched her soft tiny legs. Jiya’s tender legs shivered for a moment. Sujata wakes up.
‘Hey, what are you doing? She will wake up.’
Irritated Sujata pulled Jiya close to her.
Manab looked dazed, unmoved. He forcibly closed his eyes.
And at that moment his mother come and stood right before him as usual.
‘Moina’
‘Huh ‘
Manab trembled. Why has she come in such shabbily dressed? He was embarrassed of her. Sujata often teased him for his poor and troubled past. On and off Sujata never ever missed the opportunity to pull this and scorn off Manab’s present abundance. Sujata was the only child of a police officer. According to her philosophy, life was nothing but living in luxury. The word compassion was not in her dictionary. Manab was now on their mahogany bed resting with his beautiful wife Sujata and daughter Jiya after consumed a bellyful of delicious food. Two gold chains decorating his fat neck were glittering. Armed security personnel, bodyguards were guarding the bungalow and luxurious cars were parked at the porch. Was there any definition of happiness other than this? Presence of maa was not at all desired here. She was not welcome. It was indeed a trouble. But she came every night in his dream.
‘Moina, go and call Upen mahajon, the money lender. Tell him that I’m requesting him to come.’
Her voice was amazingly cold. Manab did not want to go. However, he got down from the bed, the endi shawl wrapped around his body and he carefully walked by the familiar pebbled road that led to the mahajon’s place. No chappal on his feet. Biting cold winter pricked him like needles. Tremendous amount of hard work, labour and malnutrition made his body lean, thin and feeble. His frail legs hesitated to walk.
‘Bordeuta, maa wants to see you.’
Upen mahajon did not utter a single word. As usual he gave an indifferent glance from the cozy warmth of his shawl. Mahajon’s sons were looking and jeering at him. He returned home in disdain. He saw maa is turning and handling over something very frequently in the dim light of the kerosene lamp. He came closer to her. That was a ring, his mother’s ring.
‘What is the matter maa?’
She shivered for second and hid the glittering ring in her bosom. Her tears sparkled more than the ring. In the faded light of the lamp he saw two drops of dew like tears rolling down her cheeks and reflecting. He realized maa is going to hand over the ring to the mahajon today. Their ancestral ring, with the blessings of which they would get food for some more days. He still remembered what his mother said after releasing a sigh. That was the last resort for the two poor souls.
‘Last resort!’
What will he do now?
‘Maa...’
His mother has gone. He woke up with a jerk.
Jiya woke up too and started crying, Sujata turned around in her sleep.
While working hard in the paddy field of Upen mahajon, cutting firewood, hoeing in paddy field his hands became rough and tough. And one day, Manab, without any preparation left to the darkness of the dense forest. That was the only easy way out for him at that time. He did not want to look into the eye of his desperate mother each day where all hopes were dry. He was fed up. Working as a bonded labourer Manab could not find a way which could bring happiness on his mothers face. He was in search of a way to escape from this mental and physical hell like situation. Now was the time. Escape.
He did not speak a word about it before his mother for the reason she might prevent him. He has no relatives but maa. People laughed at their fate, their poverty. They had always been victims without there being any fault of them. Those were the people who left him feeling bitter and thus poisoning his childhood.
His mind occupied with hatred and vengeance as a result of mockery….
In the forest, he easily learned how to fire a revolver or an AK 47. No hesitation, no fear. He triggered guns at the order of the leader of the organization. He learnt well what was taught and became expert in that and grew wilder. He used to get a sort of sadistic pleasure when he saw the spurting blood of his victims. Blood clotted carcasses gave him immense gratification. In his memoirs there was no happiness or fulfillment. But there were unusual luxuries. Merciless killing without a reason, illegal arms dealing, extortion, kidnapping— all were executed at the order of the leaders.
In his ruthless hand, many children, businessmen or his comrades chosen by the leaders got killed.
He was indifferent to the sight of torn pieces of carcass of the government employee who died of the bomb that he had planted. No feelings at all. Indifference.
At the order of the leader he has crossed many rivers, forests and the boarders of foreign countries and fetched piles of arms and ammunitions. He succeeded with risk and thrills. He has seen some big and small organizations at the forests that purchased those arms at high stake right before his eyes.
And some portions of it were siphoned to foreign countries at his calculative orders. His leaders praised him by patting on his shoulders and he was overwhelmed with joy. He enjoyed a separate identity in the organization. He became a separate soul. He learnt that to do something in this world you need not have to be rich and educated.
Only strengthen was your heart and hands. Pulling the trigger and firing without shaking was an easy task for him. His hand and heart never shivered when he did it. Along with his commander-in-chief he had deposited a hefty amount in the coffers of foreign bank. He was the most trusted man of his commander.
His tongue forgot the bitter taste of lehety herbs which he used to take with the leftover steamed rice during his bygone years. Now his tongue got accustomed to the local sticky rice of the hills, red meat of sambar and wild boar and content.
Moreover, without any preparation he hung the gamocha on his shoulder which was bestowed upon by the Chief Minister. He ditched the commander-in-chief. Ditched the organization. The abundance he earned while in the forest he desperately desired to show it in the open. A tremendous urge grew within him to exhibit the possession in front of those who once used to neglect him. He never dreamt that the way of coming out from the organization was so simple and straight.
Manab was really surprised.
Media gave utmost importance to the every word spoken by him. The irony was that the most brilliant highly educated boy of their locality who was now working for a news channel was giving so much importance to Manab who was just a school dropout in the eight standard. Manab delivered hot speeches in TV, AIR, newspapers and in public meetings. He said the things once uttered by his leaders in the forest. After listening to such lectures day after day, these got stored in his mind. His speeches came out in the front pages of newspapers in big fonts. His photos were published. He was very surprised in the beginning when people addressed him as revolutionary. On the other hand, he had not heard the word revolution in his long journey in the organization. He does not know the meaning of revolution. That was not necessary at all.
Very easily he acquired a position in the list of the VVIPs.
Now with the gamocha being hung on his solder, Manab found the path to the goldmine. It took a very little time to transform the one-room old house to a palatial building. His hand and heart became more firm and stone-like now then the days in the forest. Maa was only in his memoirs now. He knew that he would not find his mother on his return. He never released a single sigh in the name of his mother.
The sons of Upen mahajon were now the companions of his present days. Recently the two new words ‘respect‘ and ‘reverence‘ became very much known to him. Apart from the village, if he would made any gruesome offence in the city also no one would dare stop or accuse him.
Everything you can acquire if you stand firm. Once he executed orders of the others. Now no one was there to order or direct him. He was the master of his own. He transformed into Midas. Hum of abundance surrounded him, cajoleries circulated around him like fleeting bees and so was the companion of women of different ages. Everything was going on well. It was not a necessity to make physical relation with Sujata. Sujata was in her place only for social status. He was keeping young agile kept in Guwahati’s flat. Bar was built at home. Every night he could get boozed in his flat. And he get boozed. Since last five years he enjoyed every physical needs of life. There was celebration of materialistic pleasure everyday and that too in the broad daylight. But there was secrecy in making love in the forest.
Jiya awoke and was sitting face to face to him.
‘Deuta...‘
Jiya behaved her father as if he was unknown to her. She was pale with sign of helplessness in her eyes. Manab was feeling like someone from the organization has ordered him to shoot Jiya . Because the demand of ransom made by the organization has not been paid by Jiya’s father. Therefore…
From the strike of a bullet Jiya’s flower-like tender body become lifeless… bloods sprouting out like a brook. Her eyes seem to be the eyes of a dead fish. Now he was supposed to throw her away in a remote place.
Suddenly he woke up completely. Sujata too. Jiya started crying.
‘What happened? Why are you so restless? Why are you pulling the sleeping baby? How many times I asked you not to disturb her saying that she will wake up. Many times I tell you to sleep in a separate bed.’
Manab was looking at Sujata.
Sujata too was looking at Manab.
Manab was looking at Sujata as if she was an unknown person…
The leader of organization ordered him to kill Sujata. Their allegation was that Sujata fell in love with a young comrade. Sujata was a low-level general cadre. She was not supposed to fall in love no matter she was in the bloom of youth. But she was just a mere cadre only. Commander-in-chief did not tolerate this type of indiscipline. But if she would go to C-in-C‘s personal chamber at night hours like other female cadre, than it would have been different. C-in-C’s order means order. No one has the authority or right to oppose it. Manab is close aide of C-in-C. Sujata came to know about the terrible decision. She got wan. The colour of her face turned pale yellow. Sujata was standing in front of him. He was in the point blank distance with his finger on the trigger. A bullet inside the body made Sujata fall on the ground, lifeless. Blood sprinkled out from her athletic body. Now to follow leader’s order and he had to push down the body of Sujata from the edge of the hills. His heroic acts were watched by his comrades. He felt proud. He was an expert in killing games. He started pushing Sujata.
Sujata tried to sleep but yelled out.
‘What happened, are you getting mad? Why are you pushing me out from the bed? Get off, get off from the bed. Why do you always disturb our sleep? Why don’t you stay back at Guwahati? By coming here you break our peace. I can’t tolerate this type of madness. Go now ...uh...you are getting mad!’
Sujata wanted to get down from the bed.
Cling...cling...
Sujata’s gold bangles were making noise by encountering in the edged of the bed. Manab paused for a while; he tried to hear something with ears cocked...
Is someone entering his compound? His bungalow was well fortified but who knows! A few years back he had assassinated a reputed businessman of Guwahati Mr. Moloy in his bedroom by outwitting five security personnel. Moloy was his onetime comrade. He became hero in the organization after that killing. And now his some other comrade may also come to assassinate him at this hour.
He was also established as Moloy. Alike Moloy he is also wandering proudly in the coal field, oil field, fancy bazaar with personal body guards, putting a 9 mm. in waist.
He got alert. He would also bleed when a bullet would strike him. The walls of the room would be blood strained. A bullet might hit Jiya too by mistake. When he shot at Moloy his son got killed. Two bullets hit the soft body of the tender body.
Someone in the organisation might be a new hero by killing him too. These are very simple. Suspicion, distrust and killing games reigned in the organization since long.
He kept gazing at the ceiling of the bedroom.
Sujata switch on lights. The room was flooded with the dim lights after deep darkness. He looked around the bed chamber.
Every corner of the room was an exhibition of abundance. And amid the treasure of wealth he was alone. Solitary. Fearful. Who’s hand never trembled when fired from a point blank range was now getting feared so often. He got scared whenever he heard any sound anywhere
Sujata do not like him. Sujata got bored when he dropped in. Sujata had built her empire by the stake of money. But he was fond of Jiya. He wanted to live for Jiya, for Jiya only. Amazing attraction to this girl has inspired him to live life.
Restlessly he sat on the bed.
Sujata got scared.
‘What has happned to you?’
‘S..u.ja..ta… dre…am..’
Manab’s voice became inarticulate like half stifled cry. He was sweating deep inside the air conditioned room.
‘I’m always dreaming...’
‘Why every night you dream strange dreams? Oh, what the hell is this.’
Sujata pulled Jiya closed to her and hugged her. To ensure sound sleep he drank since evening. He drank in loneliness. Now the intoxication has subsided. He could not sleep with the magic of whisky now. Nothing would work.
He touched the cold steel of the revolver and closed in on Jiya. He got scared, very scared. Whether in Guwahati or here he failed to get into the lap of sleep. Sometimes in the state of drowsiness, the same dream would come. With wearing tattered mekhela-chaddor, maa‘s indifferent look, blood, cry, lifeless eyes of the dead ones, hanging comrades, shivered police, pieces of the flesh of those children whom he had killed…
He was struggling to sleep.
He desperately tried so…
He wanted to sleep in peace and tranquility.
Resting a hand on Jiya’s flower like tender body and another in the cold hard steel, Manab desperately tried to fall in sleep.
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