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It is said that Sapon’s mother-in-law once played the violin. Yet neither Sapon nor his wife had ever actually seen her play. Yet, somehow, the violin added to Sapon’s stress and responsibilities.
One day, his mother-in-law went to visit the house of Sapon’s paternal aunt, who was nearing the end of her life. This aunt loved Sapon deeply. His mother had died when he was still a small boy and it was this aunt who had quietly filled that emptiness, visiting their house regularly. She also scolded her brother - Sapon’s father - for neglecting the child, bought Sapon new clothes and took him around everywhere with almost maternal pride. Now, as death slowly approached her, Sapon went to see her. She wished to see Sapon’s wife as well.
But Sapon works in the police department and getting leave is never easy. Left with little choice, he sent his wife to the aunt’s house along with his mother-in-law. By then, his mother-in-law had long been living with Sapon. Her own son and daughter-in-law had settled outside Assam and had no intention of returning. So, she had moved into her son-in-law’s home.
At the aunt’s house, she discovered an old violin and bow hanging neglected on the back veranda. There were no strings. Looking at it, two thoughts stirred in her mind at once: a future where the violin would be repaired and the thought of reviving her musical past. Without hesitation, she brought it home.
The following Sunday, Sapon came to his home carrying a fish from market when his mother-in-law proudly presented the violin before him, as though she had unearthed a priceless archaeological relic. With complete authority, she instructed him to have it repaired. Though Sapon was a policeman, he lacked the courage to refuse his mother-in-law. He took the violin, and, after searching for a good repair shop in Jorhat, left it there to be fixed. The next Sunday, he returned home and handed her the repair receipt. A broad smile spread across her face. And truly, a smiling mother-in-law is no small blessing. In that regard, Sapon considered himself fortunate.
Sapon plays the Tokari, a traditional folk instrument of Assam. He sings as he plays, his voice rising and falling with the soft trembling notes of the strings. His mother-in-law says the Tokari is a symbol of poverty. Perhaps it is. But apart from his police job, what else does Sapon truly possess?
With years of careful saving, he somehow managed to build a modest three-room house on a small plot of ancestral land left behind by his father. His mother-in-law lives there too.
Sapon passed his matriculation examinations and soon after secured a job in the police department. He could not showcase any special skills, so he was posted to the office of the Police Training College. He does not have to chase thieves and robbers like other policemen, but he hardly has any time. He has to run around a lot and there are very few leaves. Senior officers come regularly and then he has no time at all. The officers rely on him as his work was always neat, precise and dependable. They also got their personal tasks done through him. His face gives the impression that he was born to take orders. Yet, there never is any sign of fatigue on his face.
At night, he takes out his Tokari and plays. His colleagues in the adjacent rooms, and even the families living a little farther away in the quarters, like to hear him play and sing alone at night. Sometimes, several people gather under the litchi tree in front of their rooms and talk. Sapon’s Tokari lifts the whole environment.
Once, at a cultural event among the police, Sapon played the Tokari and sang with such liveliness that everyone, including the officers, listened in awe. That day, Sapon’s Tokari gained public recognition.
Meanwhile, trouble brewed at his home. Sapon kept receiving call after call from his wife. His mother-in-law was creating a ruckus. Listening to the details, Sapon was bewildered.
The trouble began the day the violin entered the house. There was an old radio lying unused; once its battery had run out, no one bothered with it again. The very next day after the violin arrived, his mother-in-law dusted the radio, put in a new battery and brought it back to life. The ungrateful thing began to screech. At once, Sapon’s wife felt as if her soul had left her body. Her mother had started listening to Hindustani and Carnatic classical music at all hours. At times, it felt as if a Bhairav Raag was burning the house down.
Sapon’s wife’s name is Parul. Her mother called her Rul, as did Sapon. These days, the mother-in-law would shout her name throughout the day, play the music and try to explain it to her. Everything would then go wrong inside Rul’s head. Their children went to school and the mother-in-law used to go to bring them back. One day, a few parents told Parul, “Don’t send her to bring the children anymore. How much more can we listen about classical music?”
Parul had never imagined that music could be such a dangerous thing. She herself used to sing occasionally while watching TV or serials, but now even that had stopped. Late at night - ten or eleven - Rul would wake up to the sound of classical music playing on the radio. With so much work waiting in the morning, how could she bear this at such odd hours?
Hearing all this, Sapon found himself in a very delicate situation. He realised he should never have sent his mother-in-law to her aunt’s house. Rul was angry with her grandfather - why had he arranged for his daughter to learn this music? He had worked in a tea garden, met prominent people, but was it a reason to teach her the violin? Now the grandfather was enjoying himself in heaven, while Rul suffered in the mortal world. Sapon could not bear Rul’s suffering. But there was no easy way out. She is her mother, not his. Whatever was to be done, had to be done by Rul.
Sapon decided he would go home and stay for a night. Under cover of darkness, he would quietly throw the radio into the government pond. But even that carried risks. There was no guarantee his mother-in-law did not know how to swim. She was smart; she had even started exercising watching TV. Who knew what all she was capable of? If she were to jump into the pond in a swimsuit to retrieve the radio, who would take that risk?
Sapon felt utterly helpless.
Gradually, the mother-in-law began to sense that Sapon and her daughter, Rul, had formed a quiet alliance of their own. She no longer felt entirely secure in the household. Her daughter, she realised, was mischievous and unpredictable and she sided with Sapon instead of her own mother.
So, for the sake of self-preservation, the mother-in-law began practising Narada Vidya - the ancient art of creating small misunderstandings. At times, she would complain about Sapon to her daughter; at other times, she would whisper little things about Rul into Sapon’s ears.
Around that time, an important police meeting was scheduled and floral gamuchas were needed for the occasion. The responsibility of arranging them fell upon Sapon.
He called Rul and said, “Tutumani’s mother weaves gamuchas. Please ask her.”
Rul asked and informed Sapon - “It’s not ready yet. She says it will take another two days. If you go on Sunday, you can collect it then.”
Accordingly, Sapon went to collect the gamuchas. Tutumani’s mother welcomed him warmly and said, “Sit for a while. I still have to finish cutting them.”
So, Sapon sat down quietly while she completed the cutting and prepared the gamuchas.
Sapon rarely had the time to visit anyone’s home. Seeing him there after so long, Tutumani’s mother complained affectionately about how he never came by anymore and insisted on serving him tea. Out of courtesy, he drank it.
But when his mother-in-law heard that he had tea at that woman’s house, she started saying to Rul, “Why did he drink tea there? Couldn’t he buy gamuchas from the Marwari shops?”
She then said to her daughter, “You should keep an eye on him.”
Parul did not even look at her mother.
A little later, Sapon was preparing to leave. Parul was still inside washing the lunch dishes. Finding Sapon alone for a moment, the mother-in-law began telling to Sapon, “Does your son really require so many things in school? Every other day she has to go to the market. Didn’t we also study in school in our time? Keep watch on her. One day she might run away.”
Sapon listened patiently before replying, “You are her mother. You raised her and then entrusted her to me. You are still here with us; you can explain things to her better than anyone. And if someone truly wishes to leave, how can another person stop them?”
What mother-in-law could calmly tolerate such an answer?
Her face tightened with anger. Turning toward the kitchen, she shouted at Parul in irritation. “The man is about to leave and she is still washing dishes!”
Parul quickly wiped her wet hands on her clothes and came outside. She looked at Sapon, smiled shyly, and in that smile her broken tooth showed clearly.
Sapon looked at her and suddenly felt a strange tenderness rise within him. Perhaps it was because of that broken tooth that such a good-hearted woman had come into his life. Two promising grooms had once rejected her because of it. Now, with that same broken tooth, she was quietly lighting up Sapon’s house.
There was a major meeting of police underway and Sapon was drowning in work. He was being summoned here and there. The guest house was overflowing with senior police officials, including the highest-ranking officer himself. In such circumstances, how could Sapon possibly find a moment to breathe?
Yet, as always, another responsibility arrived looking for him.
The wife of one of his former colleagues had come to him. The moment she heard that all the senior officers - even the Director General of Police (DGP) - were present, she decided this might be her only chance to place her plea before them. And so, she came searching for Sapon.
Immediately, he became restless. Her problem too now became his responsibility.
He had to somehow arrange a meeting.
The woman’s life had fallen apart. Her husband, Sapon’s colleague, had once served at a police station where he was taken occasionally for encounter operations. Something had gone terribly wrong during one such encounter. The local people erupted in anger, claiming that innocent men had been killed. An inquiry followed and two policemen came under severe scrutiny. One of them was Sapon’s friend.
After that incident, the man slowly lost his mental balance. His salary was stopped during the investigation. Depressed and disappointed, he died suddenly from a minor illness. His wife received neither proper compensation nor the benefits she deserved. She was at her wits end. She had also come to Sapon’s house two or three times before, borrowing money from his wife. Sapon could never bring himself to refuse her.
That day, he took her to the police guest house. The guest house was under the charge of Deva Bora. He was extremely fond of Sapon. Everything in the guest house passed through Deva Bora’s hands - the rooms, the meals, the cleanliness, the comfort of the guests, the endless small arrangements that kept senior officers satisfied. Though he held no grand rank, even high-ranking officers treated him carefully. For Deva Bora possessed an intimacy with power that others feared. No matter how senior an officer might be, Deva Bora entered their rooms freely. He served their meals, adjusted their pillows, poured their drinks and reminded them about medicines. A single careless remark from him at the right moment could quietly damage someone’s reputation. Many had already witnessed the extent of his influence.
Sapon knew Deva Bora’s importance well. But beyond that, Deva Bora genuinely cared for him. At times, he even shared his personal sorrows with Sapon. Deva Bora would also proudly speak of Sapon’s singing and his skill with the Tokari in front of senior officers. So, Sapon hurried to meet him. Deva Bora greeted him with a broad smile and spoke warmly for a few moments before Sapon explained why he had come.
After listening carefully, Deva Bora said, “You should have come a little earlier. At the breakfast , I could have introduced her while everyone was at the dining table. Most of the officers have gone out now. Only DGP sir is still here and there are visitors in his room - not policemen, outside people.”
He continued, “I will be taking tea inside shortly. You stay nearby. The moment the room becomes empty, I will let you know. I’ll remain there with you while you speak. Don’t worry. It will be done.”
Sapon felt relieved. Surely, he thought, the matter would now be settled.
When the time came to serve tea, he accompanied Deva Bora into the room. Deva Bora placed the tray down and quietly stepped out, leaving the rest to Sapon. Carefully, Sapon arranged the cups and plates and began serving tea to the guests. Remembering Deva Bora’s instructions, he politely asked the DGP whether he had taken his medicines. The DGP shook his head absent-mindedly. He was not from Assam but from another state, though over the years he had learned to speak Assamese reasonably well. He was a man with deep knowledge about music. The visitors seated with him also appeared to be highly knowledgeable people. Sapon did not recognise any of them, but from the way they spoke, he understood that they were important and knowledgeable men. Ordinary people could not converse with the DGP so freely, almost as equals.
Their discussion revolved around music. Sapon listened while serving tea, quietly fascinated. Much of what they said was beyond his understanding, yet the conversation itself filled him with excitement. At one point, while speaking about music, the DGP mentioned Beethoven. He spoke about how Beethoven had gradually lost his hearing and had become almost completely deaf by the age of forty-four or forty-five. Yet he continued composing music until his death at fifty-six.
“He could see music,” the DGP said softly.
Sapon did not fully understand what that meant but he loved hearing such things.
The DGP went on to explain how Beethoven would sometimes spend years perfecting a single composition. That was why Symphony No. 5 remained immortal, he said - as immortal as Shakespeare’s “To be or not to be” or Leonardo da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa”.
Sapon stood there silently, bewildered. What kind of things are these? he wondered.
The DGP spoke effortlessly, as though music lived naturally inside him. The others listened with deep interest, occasionally adding their own thoughts. Then the DGP quoted Beethoven:
“It's not that important to play a wrong note or tone. But to practise music without passion, without a kind of beautiful madness in the mind, that is unforgivable.”
The words struck Sapon deeply. He thought to himself that he too loved music in that mad crazy way. He barely had time in life, yet he never stopped playing the Tokari.
What amazed him most was that the DGP knew so much beyond policing.
Then the DGP said, “Do you know what I love most about Beethoven? The best thing about the rule is to break it.”
He continued, “Music has rules. There are formulas. Those formulas, those rules can be broken if you can master them very well. Those rules are not music. Great musicians can break the rules. Then it becomes established as a different rule. Beethoven could do that. He knew how to do it. Similarly, many musicians today do fusion. Some of it is wonderful. But if everyone starts doing it, then it stops being fusion and becomes confusion.”
The room burst into laughter.
Sapon wondered. Are there really so many rules in music? Perhaps there were. He was only a small Tokari player. What could he possibly know about such vast things? He understood simple rhythms - one-two-three-four. Sometimes a man accompanied him on the Dogor ,a small leather instrument and they spoke of notes and scales while tuning together. Beyond that, he knew little. He doesn't know what other rules there are. Great musicians know. They also know how to break those rules of music.
The best thing about the rule is breaking it - Sapon memorized it. His English was poor, yet those words lodged themselves firmly in his mind.
He collected the empty cups and plates. Then the DGP asked for a piece of tissue paper. Sapon hurried to bring it, lingering nearby afterward, pretending to do a few things so he could continue listening to the conversation a little longer.
If necessary, he thought, he could even repeat one or two of those grand lines about music before his mother-in-law someday - she would be left speechless.
But the gathering ended suddenly.
The DGP rose from his chair and stepped outside. The others followed him. Within moments, he got into his car and left.
Sapon remained standing there, stunned. He had not said a single word about the woman’s case.
By then, Deva Bora was busy in the kitchen, shouting instructions and ensuring everything was perfect for the officers. When he finally saw Sapon still standing there, he frowned in disbelief.
“You fool,” he said. “Didn’t you know he was about to leave? Why didn’t you speak up before he got into the car? If you had said, he would have listened. That’s how work gets done. DGP Sir is a good man. He would have helped.”
Then, softening a little, he added, “He’ll return for lunch around two-thirty. Take the chance then. I will give you a call.”
“They were talking about music,” Sapon admitted quietly. “I was listening…I didn’t realise he was leaving.”
Deva Bora burst out laughing.
“One day this Tokari of yours will ruin you completely,” he said.
But Sapon had no time to dwell on it. Work was piling up around him. Calls came from every direction.
Before rushing off again, Sapon arranged food for his friend’s wife at the hotel nearby and handed her the key to his room so she could rest for a while. He told her that he will call when the time comes.
Then he called Parul and told her everything. She said, “Help her if you can. Otherwise, one day she’ll simply die from all this suffering. We too cannot keep supporting her forever.”
The phrase “The best thing….” refused to leave Sapon’s mind. It lingered on his lips all day.
Rules existed everywhere. Music had rules. The police had rules too. Police rules and regulations cannot be broken. But in music, you can. You can break the rules by staying within the rules. The great musicians know how. Someone like Sapon can’t do it. But he felt that if he had possessed the temperament of a great artist, his life might have become even more troublesome. But his mother-in-law should have been a great artist. She always kept looking for ways to break rules!
Afternoon passed into evening. The meeting ended. Several officers left for Guwahati, yet the DGP still had not returned.
“Will DGP sir come back at all?” Sapon was anxious.
Deva Bora said, “He will return. His luggage is still here. The guests who came earlier have a function somewhere, so he went along. Even if it gets late, he’ll come back.”
Still, Sapon’s mind remained restless.
What was he supposed to do with his friend’s wife now?
At last, he told her to cook rice on the small stove in his room. Whatever utensils and vegetables were available would have to do for the night. Somehow, two people could manage. If necessary, she could sleep on Sapon’s bed and he himself would find some other arrangement.
But word begun spreading quietly through the quarters that Sapon had brought a woman to his room.
The police quarters were an almost entirely male space. A woman staying there overnight was enough to ignite whispers instantly.
Before long, the matter reached the ears of others.
A junior officer named Phuleswar Saharia came looking for Sapon.
“Sapon,” he said with a smirk, “I hear you’ve brought home a new Tokari. But you can’t keep such things in the quarters. Throw it out, throw it out.”
The meaning behind the joke was filthy enough.
Sapon had never particularly liked the man and the way he spoke made his anger rise instantly. Even so, he controlled himself and replied quietly,
“She has come to meet DGP sir. She couldn’t meet him during the day and now it is not possible to return to Guwahati. Her husband was my friend. He died and she still hasn’t received the money owed to her. She is struggling even to eat properly. Tell me where am I supposed to send her at this hour?”
Phuleswar used his flowery words, “Stop playing other people’s Tokari and think about yourself. Rules are rules. I can’t ignore this. I’ll have to report it.”
The words rules and report struck Sapon like sparks falling on dry straw.
He knew all the stories surrounding Phuleswar Saharia. The man had once been entangled in a major case and yet somehow managed not only to save his job but also secure a posting here. And now that same man was lecturing him about rules?
Sapon knew the rules well enough.
Did Phuleswar?
The junior officer was somewhat cautious around Sapon because of Sapon’s closeness with Deva Bora. Besides, though Sapon rarely spoke much, people knew he was not someone easily bullied. Still, Phuleswar had crossed a line. And after all, Sapon was older than him.
Something suddenly burst inside him.
“You speak to me about rules?” Sapon shot back. “Weren’t you caught taking women to resorts? Weren’t you caught taking a film actress for a trip in an aeroplane? According to which rule did you build houses, buy land and open tile and marble shops in different places? And you come to teach me rules? When you were posted at the police station, didn’t you deal with smugglers? Isn’t there still a case against you for beating and maiming a smuggler because he failed to pay you? Were those the rules? You people know the rules very well. That is why you also know how to break them safely. Big officers break rules cleverly and survive. Small men get trapped. They took this woman’s husband for an encounter. Encounter means killing, doesn’t it? Is killing itself a rule? The big officers escaped because they knew how to protect themselves. But the small man lost his mind. Then he died. After that, who cared for his wife? She is lying there eating boiled potatoes and plain rice. Tell me which rule says she deserves such a life? You people understand rules only because you spend your lives breaking them. And now one helpless woman has come to sleep under a man’s roof for a single night? Rules? You are telling me about rules?”
Sapon knew that Phuleswar could do very little against him over these angry words. The man did not possess that much courage. Besides, if Sapon merely mentioned the incident to Deva Bora while the senior officers sat over tea or dinner, the matter could easily turn dangerous for Phuleswar instead.
After muttering a few obscenities, Phuleswar finally walked away.
Sapon took some rice in a lunch bowl and ate outside. DGP sir had not yet returned; Deva Bora will call when he comes. Sapon decided that he will not go at night. Instead, he will go and meet the DGP in the morning.
After finishing his meal, Sapon took out his Tokari.
Deliberately loud enough for the neighbouring rooms to hear, he said to the woman, “You sleep. Take the pillow. I will stay out here playing the Tokari and singing all night.”
Sapon knew very well that Habibur and Tulsi, who stayed in the nearby rooms, disliked him and enjoyed speaking against him. Most likely, they were the ones who had carried the news to Phuleswar.
So, Sapon raised his voice slightly and said again,
“Habibur! Tulsi! Listen carefully - I will be outside all night playing Tokari and singing here itself.”
Then he began to play and sing folk song.
The night kept getting darker. The sky glittered with countless stars.
Then suddenly his phone rang.
Without stopping his playing, Sapon glanced at the screen.
It was his mother-in-law.
A cold fear passed through him instantly. Had something happened at home?
“Hello,” he answered while still plucking the strings of the Tokari.
The moment his mother-in-law spoke, Sapon understood everything. Not able to do anything to him directly, Phuleswar had collected the phone number of his house and sent the news home.
And now his mother-in-law had found the perfect opportunity to widen the cracks between Sapon and Parul.
“You shouldn’t have done this. What to do now? What will happen to my daughter? You brought in someone’s widow. I cannot even look at Rul’s face…”
Sapon kept playing the Tokari, as if unable to stop doing so. In between, he said, “Please give the phone to Rul.”
“How can I give her the phone? She has completely broken down.” His mother-in-law said in a tearful voice.
Sapon said quietly, “The best thing about the rule is to break it.”
Translated from original Assamese into English by Arunav Goswami.
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