DILEMMA

How long will the beings living,
pretend to be dead and gone?
What will it take for surviving,
priceless things for all and one?


Myth of the past is myth no more,
days of despair, pain and sore.
Hope, glory and eternal light,
a reward for the evil we fight.


When will the memories rise,
of yesteryear's joy and surprise?
How long will we avoid the tears,
of an innocent full of fears?


Prasenjit©1997-2011

A BOOK

The scent of your warm breath,
is in every petal, every wreath.
Time that passed now no more,
stopped to see the smile you wore.


What is it in you I seek?
The waves of desire in its peak.
Our life is a book thru' the ages,
is worthy as you read the pages...


Prasenjit©1997-2011

VASE OF LOVE

The vase of love is never vacant,
never goes empty however scant.
Your affection and care like a dove,
when watered by youthful love.


What is it that you want to say,
is on your eyes yet from lips go away?
A chill that runs down your spine,
when I whisper that, "you are mine".


Why is there a quivering smile,
when you think of me all the while?
I feel the feelings flowing free,
the mind calm on a silence spree.


Prasenjit©1997-2011

MOTHERLAND

Some moments never seem to pass,

some with time never seem to fade.

Still we move on in life – alas,

and so soon forget our comrade.

Brave men with guns did roar,

some martyrs before canons thundered.

Spitted fire with fierceness and furore,

whilst never like cowards shuddered.

Some marched with blood and sweat,

while some never came back home.

With tears and courage ground was wet,

the brave souls here still today roam.

Green fields with blood turned red,

while the sky was clear and blue.

God sobbed when He saw the dead,

and blessed them to give life anew.


Prasenjit©1997-2011

A HAPPY MAN

A happy moment for a happy pair,

has happy feelings of love and care.

A happy moment for a happy pair,

has happy feelings of smile and tear.

A happy day and happy night,

has happy feelings of friendly fight.

A happy day and happy night,

has happy feelings of angelic sight.

A happy smile and a happy kiss,

has happy desire of heavenly bliss.

A happy smile and a happy kiss,

has happy fear for not to miss.

A happy man and his happy wife,

has happy dreams for a happy life.

A happy man and his happy wife,

has happy visions in struggle or strife.

Thus, “how happy is the happy man?”

Tell me now if you can...,

“So much happy now” is the happy man,

to know you have to be a happy man...




Prasenjit©1997-2011

REMEMBER ME

Once again the end of a year,

Of memories, joy and tear.

It will come, as away it goes,

Laden with aroma, thorns and rose.

There is always silence in grief,

Seems like eternity, however brief.

Whispering of air, rustling leaves,

It is as if someone deeply grieves.

The innocent mind still does cry,

Though life has given one more try.

Something inside goes in vain,

Sweet dreams, visions all remain.

In futile he begs her not to leave,

destiny frowned with nothing to give.

Like clutching the wind, walking in rain,

With memoirs of happiness, rest in vain.




Prasenjit©1997-2011

JAYANTI ASHRAM - IV

Parel, 7th Nov’11: The other two persons here worth mentioning apart from Samir are Ajit and Jagat Narayan jee. Ajit is the brother-in-law of Samir and the septuagenarian Jagat Narayan jee is the cashier of the NGO. Ajit is a married man and a man of his age. Aged in his early forties this man is quite the silent type and believes in being punctual while trying his utmost in taking individual personal care of each boarder. Ajit is equally generous in attitude like Samir but the fact remains that Ajit does not want Samir to mix up with the boarders frequently as he fears that some boarder might not like it. Ajit being much older sometimes scolds Samir but it has no effect. It seems that Samir has a world of his own and that he is very much contented and happy in it. Samir especially feels happy when somebody praises his cooking. Ajit hails from Habra and Samir from Kalyani in West Bengal. Jagat Narayan jee on the other hand hails from Gujarat. He came to Bombay (he prefers Bombay instead of Mumbai) in the year 1959. He is aged 73 as he tells me while narrating endless interesting incidents that centre on his life and this big mega cosmopolitan. There is a joke that prevails in this foundation. It is about the age of Jagat Narayan Jee. I came to this foundation on 22nd Sept 2011. It is then that I first met those persons mentioned. There was one elderly couple Mr. Sushanto Bose (a retired professor in economics from Presidency) and Mrs. Sumitra Bose (a retired Headmistress from a reputed High School) whom I met then. They were an aged and jovial couple. They always found humour in whatever they faced. The elderly couple first came to Mumbai in middle of 2009 when Mr. Bose had to undergo a staggering 11 hours lungs surgery. Mrs. Bose underwent an open heart surgery two years after her retirement from school. They keep each other comfortable and are a source of inspiration for others. Sumitra Bose told me once while chatting and sipping evening tea, that she once asked Jagat Narayan jee his age. To that he replied he was 73 years old. This time, two years later while chatting with Jagat Narayan Jee one evening he on his own told me that he is quite old. He told that he is 73 years now and that he can do all his work alone and is not dependent on anybody. To this I recollected what Sumitra Bose told me 2 months back and laughter gurgled up from deep within me. I somewhat suppressed that giggle and we proceeded on with Jagat Narayan Jee’s conversation in the company of 2 other boarders. Ajit who is also in this foundation right from its inception, tells us that Jagat Narayan Jee for some reason never crosses the limit of ‘magical 73’ - A reason not known to us.

Contd...P/5

JAYANTI ASHRAM - III

For some people over here Samir is merely a cook and for some his reputation precedes the etymology of his name. I pity on the senses of those persons who could never look beyond his profession of being a cook. Samir told me two days back during a private conversation that many other big hotels and restaurant in and around Parel have offered him a pretty tempting amount if he renders them this selfsame service. He denied them every time with a shrug of the shoulder and a smile saying, “... that Mr. Dostidar’s father gave him shelter when he had no one to call his own. So, he would never leave Rekha Foundationjust for money...”. It seemed to me that, he is trying to repay something back in return for the good graces of the old samaritan. Well I guess somebody is watching Samir from high above in the heavens and I hope he has a bright future ahead of him. At twenty four years of age, Samir is way apart from the boys of his age group. He is far matured and ahead of his times than one would expect. What would we think of a boy who has been deprived of a home that everyone of us desire and yet still reject the wealth that life has to offer him? His speciality lies in the fact that he clings to some basic principles and never compromised that on grounds that other persons naturally would. Each day he enquires about the patient’s well being on his own. People find solace in conversing with him. Though his life has been a tragic one till date, yet I never found him looking on the darker side of things. He keeps on boosting people and even goes to the extent of cooking some special dishes if someone really so desires. Samir has one thing in which he takes great pride and also needs special mention. His collection of clothes is a sight to watch. He changes clothes at least 4 times a day if not more. When many families are there adding a lot of pressure to his time table he just changes once after his bath. On the contrary when lesser families inhabit this guest house, his changing of clothes like that of the rainbow changing its colours is a treat to watch. He feels somewhat shy when asked about his stockpile of clothes. He visits showrooms and cloth stores atleast 3/4 times a month. Since he does not get ample time to get away from the premises of the NGO, his fascination for stylish clothes neutralises his other desires that he cannot fulfil due to want of time.

Contd...P/4

JAYANTI ASHRAM - I

PAREL, 6th Nov’11: This time the Mumbai trip was planned well in advance. It was to be from 1^st Nov to 7^th Nov. I am writing this down as a testament to the fact that, we would perhaps return to our hometown a week later from today. It is 4.45pm now in Parel that I have started to jot down my recollections of the past 5 days. Our flight landed in Mumbai at 9pm instead of 7pm. This was not in our time schedule and thus we fell short of our plans for the evening in Mumbai. We reached an organisation named “Rekha Foundation” where we were supposed to stay for the next one week. This NGO is run by a Bengali named Prithwish Dostidar who works as a CEO in a company in Dubai. It is managed by a lady named Mitali Sarkar, whose Bengali seems more like a mumbaikar than a Bengali from Bengal. This establishment housed in a building aptly named ‘Jayanti Ashram’ can at a time accommodate 8 families. After coming here I came to understand the meaning of the phrase, ‘A home away from home’. My mother is somewhat conservative in her food habits, especially after her surgery earlier this year. I on the other hand being a Bengali though grew up among non-bengali friends right throughout my school and college days. We had the habit of sharing our lunch in the recess period. Doing so year after year made me quite habituated with the food habits prevalent outside West Bengal. Here though common homemade items are available prepared by Bengali cook from our home state! 

Contd...P/2

DID YOU FEEL?

Did you in yourself ever feel,
the urge, silence and thrill?
One that creeps up from deep,
a feeling that is yours to keep.


Like a splinter in a bonfire,
filled with love and not ire.
I stay warm in your bosom,
with each throb love blossom.


Your absence from me taunts,
your smile to me haunts.
Like the fragrance of spring,
a freshness it does bring.


Like water drop on dry land,
being together hand in hand.
I count days, you count hours,
like fading fragrance of flowers.
The sky and horizon would meet,
a blissful sight and heavenly treat.


Prasenjit©1997-2011

THE DROUGHT

Often in times not so good,

feeling hungry with lack of food.
A child clinging to its mother,
with a hope to end this rather.

Semi-clad woman, skinny and weak,
begs for food, head bowed and meek.
A frail mother, her clothes tattered,
with no roof her hopes shattered.

Tragic it is the advances of men,
she compromised for meagre gain.
Child stopped crying - her tears rolled,
in a lame society the story unfold.

Many a mother with their silent sobs,
weeps lifelong, while the demon robs.
These dark nights became darker still,
being numb she could no longer feel.

The demons came in every night,
and killed her hunger without a fight.
She bled in tears but fed her child,
thus broken to bits a mother so mild.


Prasenjit©1997-2011

THE SEARCH

Do not ask where I'm bound,
the world a merry-go-round.
Some like fame, some like art,
I follow the road with my heart.


In this life so many lives to live,
with so much happiness to give.
Asked, "What is hard to find?"
A happy man with a happy mind.


Keep others happy as I can,
I guess I'm just a simple man.
We search for peace - its within!
How better we could have been!


Prasenjit©1997-2011

ADDICTED

Am I addicted to you?
Yes I am, its true...
The unending lovely charm,
that I feel amidst your arm.


Your smile like petals bloom,
removing moments of gloom.
You are - as nature changes,
with emotions of all ranges.


Your whisper like jingles ring,
filled with freshness of spring.
Your touch like tender dew,
with time thus renewed anew.


Prasenjit©1997-2011

TEACHER'S DAY

They showed us the way,
and taught us not to sway.
They showed us the light,
and taught us how to fight.


Against darkness, evils and all,
to love things big or small.
We flipped through the pages,
got ready for the coming ages.


With strictness, love and care,
we were taught to fight and dare.
Entire life on humility thus spent,
faced many storms but never bent.


Prasenjit©1997-2011

PARENTS

Under the shade of this tree,
where a kid grew up so free.
Sky, water were all his friends,
a jolly life with happy ends.


It gave fruits, talked with him,
and he was happy to the brim.
With time the tree grew old,
a friendship worthier than gold.


Stormy winds came with roar,
the tree was thus safe no more.
Once a kid and now a man,
he tried to save all he can.
Leaves fell, branches shrugged,
still he to it happily hugged.


Prasenjit©1997-2011

REBELLION

The twisted and narrow lanes,
made darker with fog so dense.
Like a snake the road winds up,
while I sip coffee from my cup.

World is different from the panes,
made darker with fog so dense.
World parted by a curtain pull,
dream of sunshine blooms in full.

Society ruled for usual gains,
made slippery with daily rains.
Like Goliath thus David rise,
revolt and rebels - hue 'n' cries.

The twisted and narrow men,
thus with utmost fear refrain.
Like a snake the revolt grows,
giving joy like a blooming rose.


Prasenjit©2022

FOOLISH THOUGHTS

Sometimes when I'm left alone,
I just brood on my own.
Alone on my rocking chair,
my fists closed in prayer.

To and fro thoughts sway,
like a jolly kid at play.
The unending kiddish pranks,
like thoughts of all ranks.

Comes and haunt my mind,
like a shadow dark and kind.
I'm not clever like clever men,
who sway every now and then!

I wade against waves and see,
I'm not far from where I'd be.
Times changed from time to time,
Rich - snatching the hungry dime!!

Uhh! The thoughts come and go,
like cheap tears to say so...
Pity! Pity! Unworthy fame!
The rich plays a dirty game.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

RICKSHAW PULLER

He tugs and pulls all the while,
carries people mile after mile.
Burning sun or the pouring rain,
he suffers from usual sprain.

His toil, sweat and daily pain,
is for food and not for gain.
He pants, gasps and sighs,
as hope lits in those red eyes.

Money for all the paces ran,
he does as fast as he can.
Rough edges and a raw deal,
he goes on... for a square meal!


Prasenjit©2022

THE PARTITION

It is a moment we treasure,
of respect, beyond measure.
End of bloodshed and exile,
dawn of an era so fragile.

A country with a glorious past,
wrecked within by enemies at last.
Land where the five rivers flow,
innocent were killed and laid low.

Clear water thickened with blood,
not washed by the torrential flood.
Injuries vanish but memories remain,
of an era of slaughter and pain.

Blood like rivers made its course,
while killings went without remorse.
Once lush green now stained in red,
insanity and crime is what we bred.

Hope still lingers like a silver line,
efforts to vanquish is going on fine.
It will vanish - the evil shroud,
liberty will stand and make us proud.


Prasenjit©2022

A WEEK IN MUMBAI - II

26th July 2011: The next day we were to meet Dr. Prachi patil our chief medical oncologist. Normally, I had the habit of waking up at 8am lately. We needed and early start to avoid the rush and hence an alarm was set at 7am. I awoke at the right time but felt like being in bed for a couple of hours with my head feeling pretty heavy. By 7.30am me and my mother were having tea (I switched to plain liquor tea in the past one year). Tea not one of my regular favourites, still compel me to have atleast one cup a day to keep me rejuvenated. At 9.45 am on tuesday morning I rang up to see if our doctor was already at the OPD after her early morning OT duties. I came to know that our appointment was cancelled and placed on wednesday. It was slightly saddening because I felt I could have slept till my usual hours as the previous day journey was quite a boring one with my mother being frail and shaky while walking. That day we had our quick lunch and went out for the Girgaon Chowpatti Beach. It was cloudy all along and people were few in number (very few tourists and mostly locals). The vendors were not to be seen except for some permanent stalls of panipuri and 'gola' - a local iced drink of multiple flavours of certain fruit concentrate.

After few clicks from my camera, I went towards the edge of the beach where the waves were lashing in full force. As we were nearing the edge, I saw a dark skinned lady selling maize cobs - a sight that makes my appetite stronger! My mom was a bit slow in keeping up with the pace on sand as the feet was sinking quite deep in it. It was the time for high tide already. The lady was all alone near the break water area. She seemed to know the highest extent the water may come up and she was sitting with her back to the sea. My mother chose the smaller variety as she could not savour the bigger variety and I for myself chose the largest! The maize cobs available here are of a sweeter variety in relation to the ones available in our state. It would be interesting to note that a certain variety that comes at a price of Rs.20 in the weekdays comes at double the price on weekends. Those two days are the days of full fledged business and profit making to compensate lesser sale in the weekdays. Apart from the view of seashore (not at all upto my liking) I found that it had ample scope for street photography. My mother's health did not permit me to continue on that line for long. She sat under a big shade-tree some 300 feet away from the edge of the shore. The cool breeze and the diffused light due to cloudy weather was pleasant enough to take a stroll on the wet sands. After relishing some favourite snaps on my cam, I decided it was time to move on.

At around 3 pm we reached our hotel. Since, this is the fourth visit to mumbai in the last 10 months, I have noticed considerable changes in the attitude of the hotel management. Each time they lend us their full support in all possible ways. Once they came to know about the disease that afflicted my mother their co-operation was utmost and handy in all sense of the term. The lengthy 40 mins cab drive weakened mom more and we stayed in for the rest of the day. We had an early dinner and went to sleep with the customary 7am alarm!

Prasenjit ©1997-2011

A WEEK IN MUMBAI - I

25th July 2011 : The fourth mumbai trip was scheduled for 25th july. The trip was fixed on 9th june this year. My maa prepared her luggage 2 days in advance but I always have the habit of packing my stuff the night before the journey. My logic was to keep the momentum going. By packing the luggage the night before it occurs to me that by sunrise my journey time would come closer! A mental satisfaction for me. My maternal grandmother is always worried that we may miss out on something. My to-do-list was just right and we reached airport 1 hour prior to departure. After all the necessary clearances our flight took off at 3.25pm on 25th july. We reached kolkata an hour later. We had some refreshments and walked to the security check area. The second flight took off at exact 6pm and we landed at mumbai at 8.15pm local time, 15 mins prior to schedule. The plane passes at 32,000 feet altitude above the dark grey clouds from which the thunder blazes down towards the earth. The plane was travelling way above and the white streaks of light thundering down is a marvel to watch from within the glass panes. While the plane was to land at the airport just a minute from touchdown I saw that the runway was fully wet. The landing was a bit rough and most of the times a slippery runway becomes a cause for great concern for the safety of the passengers.


We collected our luggage and I stood in queue for a prepaid cab. I was informed that I have to purchase the ticket and wait for another half an hour as due to heavy downpour most of the cabs are somewhere out on the road enroute airport. Luckily, going by the clock our cab came within 20 mins and we boarded it and went towards our hotel. The car speeded through the freeway as due to heavy downpour some 30 mins back half the traffic is standing in shelters stil and waiting for a cab/bus to go home. Whenever a traffic signal brought us to a halt, the red rear light of each vehicle glowing at once along the freeway is a sight to watch (ofcourse you should be able to imagine beauty in everything you see!) After 40 mins we reached our destined place and after freshening up and a light dinner, it seemed that the first phase of the journey was over.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

FRIENDSHIP DAY

The friendship of starlit skies,
beyond which the darkness lies.
Like jewels stacked in ocean bed,
so far away glows the sun in red.


The love of darkness seduces me,
lost in the wilderness for eternity.
If that be the extent of  my love,
tiptoeing on my heart like a dove.
Blessed my soul and gave me peace,
heavenly tranquil! I guess it is!


Prasenjit©1997-2011

WIDOW'S LIFE

Away from town on a cloudy day,
the sun beats down on stacks of hay.
The yesterdays thunder and rain,
filled ponds, washed leaves in vain.


Rays joyfully bounce off the leaves,
while below the tree a widow grieves.
Tears washed in storm and rain,
the widow's life like an empty train.
What a pity! Those pitiful tears!
Frozen and lifeless without fears...


Prasenjit©1997-2011

BLOSSOM

As the petals unfold,
of stories yet untold.
Dew caress the curves,
you settle in my nerves.
As the petals open wide,
my love has a sunny ride.
Buzz 'n' hum readily spring,
as bees on the tresses sing.


Prasenjit©1997-2011

TRUTH

How many times I'm told,

of bygone era, days of old.

How many times in my mind,

I said it was hard to find.

Goodness and honesty I've tried,

pitilessly butchered! Oh how I cried.

name and fame without a fight,

buried mercilessly in the night.

How many times I'm told,

of honesty worthier than gold.

Many a times in my mind,

I knew it was not hard to find.

How many times I've told,

take the warmth and give the cold.

Words and actions all the time,

is priceless than a hungry dime.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

TEACHER

The teachers we once had,

loving an caring now no more.

Showed us the good from bad,

we were loved, loved to the core.

Bound to duty they taught us,

and made who we today are.

They cared and made no fuss, we

dared to dream and dreamt to dare.

New class, benches and walls,

would push us thru' the year.

Seasons went till winter falls,

we lads grew and threw out fear.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

POETIC MOON

The moon passes behind the clouds,

it steals a glance and shies.

Lovely mystery kept in shrouds,

beyond which the wonder lies.

Each streak of light glows,

to change from dark to white.

Removing all the gloomy shadows,

into perpetual joy and light.

The moon speaks of love and desire,

with silver glimmer so bright.

For those always gloomy in despair,

you give hope and set things right.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

YOUR PRESENCE

I evaded the long night,
to greet the morning bliss.
You are mine - my lovelight,
regain youth by sweet kiss.

You shower like rain for me,
falling on earth to give life.
You engulf heat 'n' sweeten me,
in times of struggle and strife.

In mist you show me the way,
like a speck of light from hill.
I fix my watch and do not sway,
its your hand from afar - I feel.

The parting of your red lips,
to reveal purity of your soul.
In me flows like honey drips,
you are my destiny - my goal.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

CHILDHOOD

The sweet days of a kid,

with colourful books to read.

Days of mischief and prank,

with no measure no rank.

Me and my naughty gang,

always in mischief till bell rang.

Sirs, madams and all,

knew who was behind it all.

Gulping tiffin before the break,

during tiffin would play 'n' wreck.

All faults we would share,

kept mum as red eyes glare.

The kids grew into boys,

still in mind childhood toys.

Kiddish feeling still alive,

time let it prosper and thrive.

Patches on walls, broken panes,

the silent echo of long canes.

The teacher and the taught,

were bonded like a knot.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

FRIENDSHIP

Rain rain falling in chain,

cooling my window pane.

Not to stir - I like to gaze,

as the blinding thunder blaze.

A wet swallow sits still,

along the glass in window sill.

The twinkling of innocent eyes,

creating a bond of lovely ties.

A bond with glass in middle,

tis' sweet - but a riddle.

So far away from its nest,

stooping head - it needed rest

Prasenjit©1997-2011

MAIDEN'S PROMISE

The fragrant boughs that dangle,

across the stems entangle.

As if in the Garden of Eden,

approaches me - My Maiden.

Radiance of shyness in pink,

So lovely !! Just think !!

On ground she tiptoes quiet,

velvet hair, dark like night.

Whispers and blinks with smile,

with cheeks red all the while.

She glances and steals my heart,

makes me her own never to part.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

THE NIGHT HALT - 8

When he woke up Subha found a watchman was pushing him.  The last nights’ incident was still fresh in his mind. He asked if Dr. Ajitesh has already left for the dispensary to attend patients. Instead of replying him, he was asked how he entered the bungalow.  Subha replied that Dr. Ajitesh opened the door for him and that he was with him the whole night. The watchman was startled. He said, ‘No, sahib perhaps you were too much drunk or dreaming. It is not possible.’ To prove that Subha was right he showed the empty wine glasses and also the bottle nearby on the table. The torn packet of toast bread was lying near the kitchen dustbin. All these went to prove that Subha was not wrong. He was adamant on his point of evidence. The watchman sat down on the already cracked staircase that leads to the verandah of the bungalow. His hands were supporting his forehead and he was deep in thought. Subha enquired, and he said that while Dr. Ajitesh was returning one night from a nearby Panchayat Pradhan’s house, he was killed by a wild pig. This incident happened six months ago. The watchman kept on repeating that it did not harm me because the spirit was trying to find someone who would give the whole incident a patient hearing and sympathize with it. Maybe after that the spirit may find eternal solace. Subha realized bit by bit now, that the ring was borne by the spirit of Mita Dey, whose thirst for her ornaments never let it be snatched from her by any other person, not even her own husband. The Jeweler and the doctor were all the various forms of the spirit of Mita Dey. The watchman also said that the villagers here around say that they have heard cries of a woman at night, but seen nobody till date. Subha was nearly out of his mind was not able to come to terms with the fact that he was listening to the story of a spirit from the selfsame spirit itself. His body hairs stood erect on end. 

After he recovered from the shock he made his face of that of a calm person lest the watchman would think that he is a coward. Subha went inside and bought his luggage and stepped on the verandah. His shoe steps last night was still prominent on the stairs as the verandah was filled with dust. It gave an indication that no one has stepped here for months on end after the tragic death of Dr. Ajitesh, his host last night. The watchman asked, ‘Sahib, would you meet the new doctor posted here? He will come in about four hours from now on.’ Subha would have stayed back but suddenly his mind was filled with a deep rooted fear because God only knows what the new doctor has in store for him! He declined the offer and strapping the luggage on his shoulder he stepped down from the stairs.

The sun was gleaming from behind the clouds. He was walking alone towards the nearest bus stand ten miles away. 

Prasenjit©1997-2011

THE NIGHT HALT - 7

Dr. Ajitesh looked at Subha and understood that I was not sleeping. It gave the doctor a clear indication that Subha was really interested in his relating. Subha took one more cushion from the sofa and made himself more comfortable. In the meantime Dr. Ajitesh began the rest of the story. The doctor had already instructed in the meanwhile to my head nurse as to how the treatment procedure of Mrinal would continue for the next four days. As the doctor would not be available during that period so he cautioned his head nurse not to let Mrinal go anywhere alone. The doctor returned from Medical conference from Calcutta and went straight to see the state of progress of Mrinal. On enquiring about his patient the head nurse stared at him in a surprised manner for a long time. Her facial expression gave him an indication that everything was not right. She with utmost courage stepped forward and said, ‘Sir, have you really come from Calcutta today?’ The doctor’s patience was taking a toll on him and unable to bear any longer he angrily asked in a loud voice, ‘What the hell do you mean to say? Where is Mrinal?’ On understanding that this was not a joke the head nurse started to shiver. Cold sweat made her face wet. The doctor called some other nurses on duty and they all had the same tale to tell. The incident according to the nurses is that, Mrinal’s health was worsening after he left for the conference. And on the early morning of the third day, the doctor suddenly arrived there as his conference ended before time. The doctor tried hard to save him but Mrinal died in front of him and the other nurses. They also said that the body was sent for post mortem. It will be kept for forty eight hours at the nearby morgue. Dr. Ajitesh being a doctor and also a student of science smelled something fishy. How can he believe that he returned two days back, according to the nurses when he returned just a few hours before. The doctor ran as fast as he could towards the morgue. The bodies were covered from head to toe. The only identification was the tag number that is attached to the right hand of the corpses. Dr. Ajitesh was told by the head nurse that Mrinal carried a tag no. 13. As Dr. Ajitesh was examining the tag number of Mrinal it was a bolt from the blue for him. In Mrinal’s right hand ring finger contained the ring that Mrinal claimed was on Mita’s finger before she was buried. Dr. Ajitesh said to him that, ‘You, know Subha I thought that it is better to be silent about the ring to the nurses and also to the ward boys. I myself was in the mist of suspicions.  I knew very well that the nurses will dare not tell a blatant lie; So who is the person who came in my absence and declared Mrinal as undergoing critical condition and then the selfsame being dead declared him dead?’

Putting his last empty glass on the table Dr. Ajitesh looked at Subha with curious eyes and smilingly said, ‘What do you think of this whole incident which I partially witnessed and the rest was heard from the guilty itself?’ Subha was all the more spellbound by this sudden turn around in the story. Subha  was thinking what to say. Dr. Ajitesh heaved a deep sigh and looking at the wrist watch said, ‘Well, Subha it is 10:30 pm now, surely you want to sleep now.’ Subha should have replied earlier but he was actually brooding over the whole incident and was laughing to himself. Dr. Ajitesh was perhaps not prepared for this. Maybe he expected him to get fear out of this or else ask inquisitive questions. The doctor bend down and sat near Subha on the sofa. He leaned a little towards him and said, ‘What makes you think so hard?’ Subha tilted back and slowly in a relaxed tone said, ‘All the deaths occurred for the small ring itself? The ring must be a wonder to look at or else why would a wife not part with it even at the risk of her husband’s life? The incident centers around the ring. What a pity I could not see it. If only I could have ……… .’ Subha was not able to finish the words when his eyes fell on Dr. Ajitesh. He was trying to take out something from the pocket of his Punjabi. Subha asked what was there in his pocket.  He brought out a glittering object towards Subha for greater visibility. When it was more or less visible in the dim kerosene lamp, the doctor said, ‘The story centered around this very ring.’ The moment Subha heard this he gave a loud cry and fainted.

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THE NIGHT HALT - 6

Later that night when Mita was sleeping, Mrinal entered the room. She was asleep. He slowly lifted the finger and was trying to take out the ring. She got disturbed in her sleep and turned around. Mrinal stood up restless at her bedside. He knew very well that his deeds are in the wrong path; but such dialogues seemed meaningless before the truth that he can be killed by the Don, if the required amount of money is not returned before the stipulated time. On his second attempt to get the ring back she woke up. Before Mita could shout or speak up her husband clasped her mouth tightly with a pillow with his left hand and pulled the ring desperately. Within a few seconds the ring was in his hands. He left the unconscious body of Mita much against his own liking and ran up to the house of Munnalal jajodia. I asked Dr. Ajitesh, ‘Who is Munnalal?’. Dr. Ajitesh said, ‘A greedy jeweler.’ Mrinal quickly came to that Seth and asked for forty eight thousand rupees. The jeweler wanted to know from him what he has for mortgage. He said that he has a costly diamond ring. On being asked to show, he stood up, and putting the hand in his pocket he found that the ring was not there. He told the Seth that he actually had the ring with him. He is not able to understand how it disappeared. The Seth told him, ‘I am not going to listen to excuses; I have heard many such excuses before from different people at different times. Show the ring first.’ Mrinal distinctly remembered that he had snatched the ring from Mita’s finger. When Mrinal was making wild guesses as to what may have happened on the way, the Seth in a would-be tone showed Mrinal a ring which he took out from his safe in front of him. To Mrinal’s amazement it was the selfsame ring that he gave to his wife. His whole body was shaking with fear and even in the cold weather he was profusely sweating.

He was unable to move and felt as if an invisible hand has forcibly pressed him down on the chair.  In an unstable manner he stood up and ran for his life. He came back to his house because the ring was not with him. When he entered the room he saw Mita turning her back to the door. He called Mita by her name and sat at her bedside, very much repentant. There was no response from her. Mrinal knew well that the anger of Mita was justified. After few soft calls to her he shook her with both his hands and found to his horror that she was already dead. He instantaneously realized that if the matter goes public he will be arrested. Consequently, keeping a cool head and in a planned manner he buried the body of his wife in the farm at the back of the quarters. During the night time he was not able to sleep peacefully, as the thoughts of his innocent love and his betrayal haunted him. To add a glimmer of hope the next day newspaper flashed the news that the dreaded underworld don Umesh was killed in an encounter last night at the border area. He tried hard not to cry, but he was not able to stop his tears from flowing. He thought that if only he would have waited for a single night Mita would have been alive. Anyway he tried to forget it as a bad dream.  A week had elapsed after the fateful incident had occurred. One evening at the verge of total darkness he was resting in his armchair and was smoking a cigar, trying to relax his nerves. He casually looked towards the back of the house, i.e., the farmyard. He saw a lady sort of a figure clad in a full white saree approaching him. The cigar fell from his mouth on the floor mat. He caught hold of the wooden plank railing and stood there still for a moment. He quickly went inside the room and closed the door that leads to the backyard. Mrinal opened the front door of the house, locked it and stepped on the main road and ran towards the dispensary. He simply felt that the lady figure was approaching to kill him.

Dr. Ajitesh now told him that, ‘At this stage Mrinal Dey and I met each other.’ Mrinal’s face was itself telling an episode of fear and helplessness. He caught me and vigorously started to shake me. He was panting very hard and was nearly out of breath. All the while he was looking back and as if he was expecting something from behind. On enquiring Mrinal said, ‘She….She will kill me……’. Being not able to understand the doctor said, ‘Mrinal babu you are safe here. Who will kill you? Here is no one except the both of us.’ Mrinal was not paying any attention to me. All the moment he was looking towards the already dark forest, perhaps trying to see somebody out there. The doctor being least interested in his side of the story, gave him a sleeping tablet and requested him to try to relax. After nearly all the story was heard from him Mrinal looked towards the doctor and said, ‘Is not this amazing that a particular ring was present in two different locations at the same time.’ Mrinal said that the ring he had stolen from his wife’s hand was with the jeweler and not with him. When getting afraid he returned home he found the same ring in the hand of his wife. It was still in her ring finger. Mrinal said, ‘Doctor, how can there be two rings at different places at the same time?’ The doctor was astonished to know that Mita who was known to be missing was actually buried at the backyard of the quarters. Anyway, understanding the critical state of Mrinal the doctor kept mum about it. The doctor asked Mrinal if he had seen the ring in his wife’s hand when he was burying the body. He faintly answered, ‘yes’ and collapsed on the floor.

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THE NIGHT HALT - 5

Mrinal was in a very much awkward position and finding no suitable answer said, ‘It is none of your business. Women should take care of the house and Men outside it.’ Mita understood that this was not her husband’s true nature. It was the dialog of a typical conservative Indian husband. Mita’s face turned grey with gloom. Mrinal had never before behaved in this rude manner. Any way she said nothing then. During dinner neither of them talked to each other. Mrinal was feeling repentant for his rudeness as it was her wife’s birthday. He was not finding any excuse for his fault and was feeling guilty. He was short of words with which he could at least start a conversation with his wife. At bed Mrinal found that Mita had turned intentionally in the other direction. She was facing the opposite wall and giving him almost no chance to talk to his wife. After about half an hour later, he came closer to his wife and put his hand on her shoulder. She quickly pushed his hand off and said, ‘Do not touch me. Let me sleep.’ Mrinal could understand that Mita was crying slowly with the bed sheet covering her face. Mrinal felt all the more helpless. Gathering courage he came closer to his wife and turned her forcefully in his direction and said, ‘Please don’t cry Mita. I can’t see you crying like this. You know that I love you and I have no one except you as my own.’ Slowly Mita opened her eyes. Mrinal’s heavy breath was falling on her face. She wiped her eyes and said, ‘Why are your eyes red then?’ She wiped Mrinal’s eyes with the end of her saree. Her lips showed she was smiling, an indication for Mrinal that Mita have forgiven him.

After about two months later, the same phone rang up and this time it was Mita who answered. The voice of the person seemed to be harsh. The person enquired if her husband was at home. She asked to hold and called her husband. The same scene followed and Mita saw his face go faded. His hands began to tremble with fear. Mita could not make out head or tail of the heated discussion. Mrinal simply answered in short ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Lastly, he said, ‘I only need atleast two days. Luck is betraying me for the last two days.’ The phone slipped from his trembling hands and he dropped on his bed. He covered his face with both his hands and shaking his head he was murmuring something to himself. Mita encircled her husband with her arms and asked him looking straight at the face, ‘What is the matter with you, what is the problem? Who is the person talking with you in such a bad manner?’ He gave some lame excuses and forcefully asked her to go to sleep and not to worry. He falsely snored in his sleep so as to make Mita believe that there was nothing to worry. This time it had no effect on her wife. She also had to spend a sleepless night. On the day of her anniversary of marriage she was sure to receive a present from her husband...

He was feeling a bit drowsy by now. Dr. Ajitesh said not be asleep as the climax was still to come. He noticed that the story had till now nothing unnatural or frightening but it gripped his mind all over. Such, is the direction of the story as said by Dr. Ajitesh; He felt as if he is a person involved in the incident itself. He sat comfortably on the sofa and by now the cogniac bottle was empty. The doctor host rubbed his spectacles and handed him a fan to get rid of mosquitoes. In forests especially at night it is troublesome. So, after a pause, continued the story as it goes on his version… Mrinal’s wife had prepared the typical Bengali fashioned delicacies for him. His wife was eagerly waiting for him. As her husband entered he wore a serious look but tried hard to smile at her. She knew that there was a great turmoil deep down in his heart. This time again when the phone rang again a threatening from there. He put down the receiver. This time unable to bear no more he broke down to tears. His wife though helpless, was not able to perceive the depth of his problem. He was a good student at the Presidency College but he had a bad habit of gambling with his pocket money. But being an expert he amassed lots of wealth. But his ill luck was that due to this habit he once stole a large amount of money from the cash counter of his office. He was given one year jail. But due to his clever and his wife’s belief in him he only had to say that he was going on a country wide tour. His wife was unaware of the fact that came in her life before marriage. In the last few days he started losing huge amounts of money in gambling. To gain more and more and to make up for the loss he went to an underworld don for a large amount of money. The don had the confidence in Mrinal’s luck in gambling and so gave him the money. As luck would have it, Mrinal lost the money in gambling. The don was locally known as Umesh Bhai. He threatened Mrinal with an ultimatum of a day and said that he would be killed if the demand is not met with. His eyes glistened with hope as Mrinal’s eyes fell on Mita’s jewelry. He asked for the ring that he had given to Mita two months back on her birthday. Mita suddenly seemed to be a stranger for Mrinal. She snatched herself away for the eager outstretched hands of her husband. Mrinal seemed to get the shock of his life. She got up from the drawing room and went to her bedroom. She never thought for a moment that the ring can save her husband’s life.

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THE NIGHT HALT - 4

Dr. Ajitesh began like this, ‘The two characters in the story are a couple married in the month of March in 1954.’ Subha abruptly stopped him and said, ‘so within two years the so-called-mishap happened. I was just a small boy then’, he exclaimed curiously. ‘Yes, Subha listen carefully, as you will not like it if you interrupt now and then out of excitement. The couple used to study at Presidency College at Calcutta. The name of the young man was Mrinal Dey an orphan like many others in our society and the lady was Mita Sanyal. After Mrinal completed his studies and got the job of a forest ranger, he went to Mita’s house and asked her hand in marriage from her father. Mita’s rich father had high hopes for her daughter and so likely objected to the marriage. Then one day, like the beginnings of many love stories she left her home forever with Mrinal with the desire of a life of her own and dictated by none. They got married in the forest ranger’s bungalow with a few college mates who were still with them. Let me tell you the nature of the characters, as far as I understand; Mrinal was a simple man who liked to socialize with people whenever possible and Mita was on the other hand conservative about two things - the first was of course her husband and the second one was the jewelry sets she got in her marriage. The first ten months of their conjugal life went on smoothly. One fine December afternoon, Mrinal had taken a casual leave from office and was resting on bed half asleep. His wife came and saw that the magazine was on his chest and the spectacles was still on his face. The specs might break, thinking this she came near him and slowly was taking the specs of his face, when Mrinal opened his eyes. ‘Did I wake you up’, said Mita. Mrinal quickly said, ‘No, no. Did any phone rang during this time?’ Mita was about to say something when the phone rang up. Before Mita could stand on her feet, Mrinal jumped out of bed and picked up the phone.

Mita went towards the kitchen and was busy with her work when she heard that Mrinal was talking in a somewhat different tone. Feeling something fishy she tiptoed towards the kitchen door adjacent to her bedroom and tried to eavesdrop. Mrinal was addressing some one on the other side of the phone as Umesh Bhai. She was a bit surprised as nobody till date was known to her by that name. Mrinal only replied in a Yes or No. Each time his voice seemed to tremble all the more. Mita was getting anxious as she could not make out the heads or tails of the phone call. He kept the phone down and with his head in deep thought he was walking towards the kitchen. His attention fell on his wife to which he smiled but his wife’s stare faded the smile away. His wife sat by his side and enquired about the matter. Mrinal gave a little heart laugh and trying to avoid the question suddenly gave an expression of surprise. “Oh God! I am getting forgetful everyday.” Mita was all the more surprised. He took out from his kurta pocket a small box. Mita opened the box with unknowings and suddenly her face brightened. In it contained a ring of gold with precious stones in it. For a few moment she was in the seventh heaven. “Happy birthday Mita, I love you more than anything else“. She was taken aback with joy and embraced her husband. She herself did not remember her birthday. When everything eased like the tide water, she pounced back with the same question, ‘Who was the person on phone talking harshly with you?’

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THE NIGHT HALT - 3

The doctor knew that he worked in Muscat in an MNC firm, so surely he had the habit of taking wines. The doctor kept in famous varieties of wines of different countries. The doctor offered him cogniac. He told the doctor that he is not used to it. The doctor did not believe that at first, but then he was not able to tell the doctor NO straight in the face, so in the end he agreed for a small sip. Dr. Ajitesh enquired if he would like to take dinner now. He was a bit astonished as it was only 7 O’clock at night. The doctor said that the custom of the forest is to sleep by 8 O’clock at night. He requested for a light dinner as the evening toast was still halfway through digestion. The food was ready which indicated that the doctor always cooks extra food. He asked, ‘Don’t you have a helper for your household chores.’ The doctor said, ‘I have a servant, but I prefer to cook my own food. Even during my student days at the Medical College I used to cook food for six other students at the mess. So, that habit stayed with me.’ He helped him in bringing the plates from the kitchen to the dining cum study table. He found that he had a habit of eating his food very quickly. He said him once or twice to eat slowly as it helps in digestion quickly. Dr. Ajitesh said that, ‘I eat quickly as I am not sure when in the night I may get an emergency call in a far off place.’ The doctor suddenly asked me, ‘Do you believe in spirits?’ He was speechless by fright. He was not ready to let the host think that he has such a fear in his mind. So trying to evade a direct answer and looking in a different direction he said, ‘Well then do you believe in the same?’ The doctor turned around and with a witty smile said, ‘Very clever Subha, very clever. Well Subha, if you really want to know then let me tell you that it depends on the situation concerned.’ The doctor shrugged his shoulders as if he was brooding in depth on a certain incident.

The doctor poured some more wine, took his own glass and stood up from his chair and looked towards the floor. The dim light fell on his face and showed that he had more wrinkles on his face then his age. He thought that perhaps the doctor was concentrating deeply on some incident. He cautiously sat back on his rocking chair, kept the glass on the table with the slightest sound. Looking at him he said, ‘do you know Subha that the incident that I am going to relate is me being partially a witness and the rest is what I have heard. Being a student of science, I never believed in things unnatural or unexplainable, but now I have to believe.’ He could feel the fear gripping on him. He spoke out boldly to his doctor friend that neither does he believe in supernatural happenings nor in life after death. The doctor stood up and his eyes followed his footsteps. While thinking perhaps what to start with the doctor came near him and filled his already empty glass. He was a bit stunned as he did not realize when he had emptied the wine glass. The doctor said, ‘Subha you are bound to believe after my incident is told that there exists something beyond vision, beyond imagination.’ Dr. Ajitesh asked, ‘What year is this?’ Without losing time he said, ‘1968.’ ‘Yes, it is true this year is 1968 and the incident happened twelve years back’, said the doctor.

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