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.

Contd...P/8

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.

Contd...P/7

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.

Contd...P/6

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?’

Contd...P/5

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.

Contd...P/4

THE NIGHT HALT - 2

The doctor seemed to be pleased by his decision. He took a refreshing bath and the doctor gave him lots of toast and a hot cup of tea to fill his appetite. He could not have asked for more in such a situation. There was a homely atmosphere in the bungalow where the doctor lived. After he finished his food, while detailing about his career a long silence followed in the room. The doctor seemed to be thinking of something as he was walking to and fro in the room. He was not in a position to say anything as being an introvert by nature he could not understand what more to say to keep the conversation alive. While walking up and down the room the doctor was stealing quick glances at him. The kerosene lamp created variation of images on the wall while the doctor was strolling in the room. To speak the truth he was feeling a bit uneasy.

The doctor sat down on the table opposite to him and said, ‘You know Mr. …….. .’ he said, ‘Subhankar Mitra.’ The doctor laughed a bit and said, ‘Yes yes yes, I forgot. You know old age spares no one. I think I am losing my memory day by day.’ ‘Sir, you can call me Subha, my pet name.’ The doctor again laughed and said, ‘If I can call you Subha, then why are you calling me Sir.’ You can call me Ajit and I will call you Subha. From now on we are friends and friends call each other by their names, right.’ he said, ‘Right Sir.’ What! The doctor was startled. He said, ‘Sorry, Ajit.’ ‘Yes, that is good’, said the doctor. The doctor said that his career was that of being lucky and unlucky at the same time. He was a bit unnerved as he was not in a position to say anything on that abrupt context. The doctor’s looks towards him was that of mixed emotions, serious and smiling at the same time. The doctor burst out in fits of laughter, which made him all the more tense than before. Dr. Ajitesh understood his position and trying to relax him, the doctor said that he is a First Class First from the Calcutta Medical College. The doctor got a good job at Calcutta itself. His mentality demanded to help the poor as staying at the city will do him no good. The doctor wanted to spend the rest of his life in quieter places like the village or the forests. The doctor was unlucky because he had to leave the job and also his aged parents for a greater call of duty for the under privileged. The doctor got another government job as a Senior Health Officer near the border area of Bangladesh. He considered himself lucky as he was able to serve all the casualty patients including the civilians and also the B.S.F. Even the local police and gangsters came to him as patients. The fees were handsomely paid and patients were more then often crowding his dispensary. He was laughing at the doctor’s humorous attitude and while his eyes were trying to understand the environment in which Dr. Ajitesh lives, his eyes got stuck to something he was not expecting. The doctor understood his surprise. The doctor was a regular drinker. The situation was a bit hypocritical, as doctors always advice their patients against drinking by showing more than a hundred reasons as to how it disrupts the normal day to day life of a person. The doctor’s  reason though not fully acceptable was that it is essential to keep the body calm as during the day time the tension of the patients gets build up in the mind and affects the night’s sleep; and that it is an easy method of relaxation in a lone dark forest with no one to talk to at night. The doctor was a bachelor.

Contd...P/3

THE NIGHT HALT - 1

Encounters with tall dark shadows, walking spirits, shrill voices from behind, solitary whispers, out of the body experiences thrill even the most cynical human beings. Very few people can claim from deep down their heart to be uninterested in these real life experiences, even if they do not believe in them. Humans have this sort of fear deep rooted within their mind. The more we claim not to get afraid by such incidents are all the more a proof, that we are getting involved in this fear episode slowly, surely and steadily. Fear and its obsession is something that incorporates vivacity in any incident anywhere both for the writer and also for the reader.

A Senior Systems Engineer aged 26 years was working in Muscat and had returned to his hometown, his darling Calcutta. His name is Subhankar Mitra. After staying for three days at home he decided to leave aside the dean and bustle of the town and venture in quieter places and of areas of lush greenery. He landed up in a moderate forest area in the outskirts of Calcutta called Mayurganj. As far as knowledge goes this name is found in other parts of West Bengal also. The place does not boast of electricity as it is a far off dream. Kerosene lamps bear light to the mysterious nights of Mayurganj. The place only boasts of a dak bungalow and about 10 kms towards the border area of Bangladesh is the dispensary as one may call it and attached with it is the three roomed house of the government medical officer. It was about 3 pm in the afternoon. He was hunting desperately for a shelter as the bungalow was already booked by some government officials. He took out a fifty rupee note and gave it to the darwaan who still seemed helpless of giving him shelter and told him of the dispensary about 10 kms away. The darwaan seemed to sweat profusely though it was a wintry evening. He enquired about his fear to which the darwaan said something in tribal language. It seemed like greek to him, anyway he did not pay heed to it. The darwaan turned and disappeared in the forest. It was getting dark and the road was not a prominent one. It seemed as if no one had traveled for years. The stony path was covered with dry leaves and herb like plants. The stones seemed to be exceptionally slippery. He treaded on them cautiously.

As it was nearly dark, he took out a five-battery torch which is mostly used in forests to see through fogs. After a strenuous walk of hours on end he saw a gleam of light from a big house. It is actually a planking bungalow. A flight of wooden steps led to the verandah of the house. The moment he moved up on the steps he heard the door of the house creaking. He gasped in amazement and to his relief a middle-aged man opened the door with a sweet smile of welcome. The face of the man seemed to drive away all the tiring efforts put together for hours. He simply enquired about his name and asked to step in. Otherwise, in cities no one does easily let strangers come inside their houses without full confirmation of their identity and background. This was the first exception he encountered though not unnatural. He introduced himself as a doctor of the nearby dispensary. His name was Ajitesh Kar; he was unmarried. The doctor did not ask though, but he felt it was his duty to tell him about his profession. He was surprised that young vibrant people love their country still as some ambitious people who work abroad get settled their without returning to their country.

Contd...P/2

THE GRAVE DIGGER

Daily he digs the earth,

with his spade and shovel.

Not a cause of mirth,

as he clears the gravel.

He paves gently the way,

to place them in rest.

The angel 'n' devil in foray,

holds them to eternal test.

Unaware of the world there,

which he will see one day.

Tread on road not so fair,

his soul would find its way.

The devil would surely lurk,

and try with all his might.

The angel leads thru' dark,

to heavenly glory and light.

Who would dig his grave,

one day to put him to rest?

HE said, "My son be brave,

be on my lap forever to rest".

Prasenjit©1997-2011

THE BOATMAN

He is rowing the boat,

gliding on watery coat.

Water sparkling like jewels,

for their daily duels.

Casting net open and wide,

as they take a boat ride.

Pulling and tugging the oars,

moving along stormy shores.

Straining lungs, paining muscles,

their struggle in daily tussles.

Their tears not seen in rain,

sweat and blood goes in vain.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

HANDICAP - 5

The watch beeped again at 7.00 am. I knew that Agra would be just minutes away. So, in a matter of would be tone I said blankly, “We are near to Agra.” On hearing this a commuter responded by trying to bring the baggage from top of the bunk as he also said his wife to get hold of their boy’s hand tightly as there would be a good deal of rush. Our rhythmic swaying stopped as the train was slowing up while entering the station. After the train halted, I felt my surroundings getting empty as people were getting off the train. I was intentionally the last person in the queue, for obvious reasons. My luggage is a small briefcase containing some official documents related to my pension. It was on my lap from the start of the journey. I sensed that Sheela was still sitting on the bench. She didn’t move. I feared that I may collide with her and my disability may come to the forefront. While I was deciding what to do, Sheela stood up and was about to walk towards the exit when she tripped on something and fell to the floor. Being a lady she got immediate help. She was helped to stand up and her baggage was picked up by another person.

Someone asked her if she did not notice the suitcase in front of her. She cordially with a bold conviction said, “Not to mention the suitcase, I can not see anything. I am totally blind. The Latur earthquake that snatched my entire family also took away my vision.” I was shell shocked. The shiver that occurred in me seemed virtually greater than the one at Latur. She so boldly accepted a situation I was always thinking to suppress. She was not at all embarrassed at this situation. On being asked how she will travel for home, she said that her husband will be at the station. As everything proceeded further with the usual hurry, Sheela got up and said to me, “Sir, you can come before me.” With the customary way I replied, “No, Ladies first.” I went behind Sheela so that she can be my guide to the door of the compartment. At the exit I heard a male voice to which Sheela responded warmly. I made out from the conversation that the person was her husband. I just stepped out of the train and heard her husband saying, “How did this dirt get on the dress? Did anything happen to you?” She smartly replied in the affirmative. As they went away their voice faded away slowly but the incident will never fade from my memory till death.
So there are many ways to hide ones own weakness - strengthen others or keep oneself aloof from the mainstream. Sheela took the better way out. She showed me the light of a persons’ inner belief. I remember some lines from my personal diary truly befitting her…

Little do I know?
What is there in you?
Very less I have seen,
Of what you could have been.
You gave all that you can,
As support for a needy man.
You filled society’s need,
In every urge, every bid.
If ever your path by trouble sway,
I will tell it to go the other way.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

HANDICAP - 4

Amar exclaimed, “Sir, what makes you smile. Any joke?” I just said that it was just a recollection of one of my sweet family memories. The child cried out again for some more groundnuts to which the mother scolded loudly and asked him to keep shut. The child did not stop crying at all. I was looking in the direction of the window. The young lady apart from giving her introduction was not a part of our conversation. The child stopped his nagging when Amar offered some chips to the child. His behaviour was that of a jovial person. The rhythmic shake of the train made me feel a bit drowsy. I was thinking of Shanti all the while. Sheela asked me, “Sir, where do you live?” I said that after retirement from military, I settled at Rehalpur, my birthplace. I with my wife live there in our ancestral home.” Sheela exclaimed, “No one else. I mean to say…….” “No one is with us except for us old couples.” Understanding her query, I pointed out that due to a mishap I lost my son while traveling by bus. On Amar’s heaving a regretful sigh I clearly understood that Amar knew why I asked if he travels by bus. A hush silence descended in the row where we sat which indicated that other passengers were thoroughly following our conversation. Perhaps my extrovert nature shocked Amar all the more as because my face never show up any signs of trouble. I try to be as cheerful as possible in the company of others.

Sheela on the other hand said, “Tragedy can ruin anything, anytime. We should know the art to live fruitfully, proceed further keeping the past behind however painful it maybe.” These words from a sober lady was not expected, atleast from my end. On the context, I asked what is it that makes her advice so much hardened and strict in approach towards life. She said that in Maharashtra, when the devastating earthquake at Latur occurred she was the lone survivor of a hale and hearty joint family of eighteen persons. Her only relative surviving is her uncle who at that time was posted in Agra as a teacher in a reputed public high school. Sheela has since then remained with her uncle. As is the habit of onlookers or a roadside passerby, people in the compartment around us started hurling random questions of how why, when and what not. For me it seemed that she became the unwanted centre of attraction. As my nature goes, I cannot tolerate people giving unnecessary sympathies to the bereaved which are rather of no use and on the contrary it reminds a person of his or her weaknesses. To cut off the volley of questions, I asked Sheela if she ever went there after the traumatic incident. She said she goes there once every year to donate half of her annual salary to a charitable organization for looking after the surviving quake victims. She spends the rest amount for the education and healthcare of the children of prostitutes who due to social stigma can not study with students of the general stream. Nevertheless, I was very much impressed with her warm notion towards the downtrodden and helpless of the society. A person from my right side asked, “If all the money from the salary goes to charity how do you lead your life then?” The question though was like involving too much in her privacy, was a justified one according to me. She said that her husband Anupam Garg is an eye surgeon and that is why she does not need the money earned from school. Her husband also supports her cause. Such is the variety of people around us. Some people accumulate more while having plentiful and others give away their all without even knowing them. Such service towards the society is not so often seen nowadays, not even heard off. After her statement a low murmuring started among the people around. Presumably they were discussing the tragedy from all possible quarters of their imagination.

Contd...P/5

HANDICAP - 3

Unintentionally, I asked if Amar travels by bus since it is very risky. Before he could answer me, the train screeched to a halt at Jhanakpuri, a small village station. The conversation pursued no further. Some people went down with their luggage. The train stops only for five minutes at Jhanakpuri. When the train was about to leave a sweet aroma filled the entire compartment. A faint tap sound of the shoe became sharper until it stopped in front of me. The smell indicated that the person was a young lady. The first reason is the type of the scent that she uses and secondly sharp pointed heel shoes are used by the younger generation. As it happened with me, Amar also helped the young lady keep her baggage in the top bunk. After the usual exchange of the pleasantries, silence descended in the compartment and the train proceeded to our common destination, Agra. I tried to understand my front seat companion but it was of no avail as because she kept mum all the while. I could feel the sweeping of cold wind across my face. I understood that the window beside the young lady was open. I said facing the direction of the lady, “Will it trouble you if I close the window? Actually my age does not permit such cold winds.” The lady eagerly agreed to my request. The glass shutter was bought down. I asked the lady, “Where are you going, madam?” She replied, “I am going to Agra. I work there as a teacher.” Teachers have always carved out a high position in my mind. My junior school principal and my wife Shanti were responsible for this opinion. “So you live in Jhanakpuri? “No, I do not live in Jhanakpuri. I live at Agra now at my uncles’ house. On asking her name and background she said, “I am Sheela Garg from Maharashtra. I got my education there. Now, I work at Agra in a Blind School as a music teacher. Now it is my turn to deliver my utmost for the handicapped.” I feared for a moment that my pretence of being normal maybe caught.

This sense of duty in the assumable young lady pleased me. I thought to myself that the young generation is not as hopeless as my strict wife points out. A loud shouting in hoarse voice of a chips vendor made our low-voiced conversation come to a stand off gradually. A lady started to bargain for chips for her child. The child till that time was constantly crying and asking for chocolates. On seeing the vendor she took some groundnuts. She was probably not pleased on hearing the price of the chips. Before the vendor could make further movements Amar asked for chips. He enquired if I would like to help myself to it. I denied with thanks citing my health problems. The train was passing through a tunnel and was making a roaring echoing sound. Even at broad daylight it remains pitch dark within the tunnel for about twenty seconds or so. I remember the day when after my marriage at Agra I was bringing Shanti back home and the tunnel came on the way. She was not conversant with this rail route. When the train entered the tunnel, she tightly caught hold of me and was very much terrified like a child. I was smiling to myself recollecting those sweet memories when the train came out of the tunnel and the loud echo subsided.

Contd...P/4

HANDICAP - 2

I travel alone as because I dislike the idea that somebody would be my constant companion only because I am a disabled person. I was born here so I am acquainted with every change that occurred in this town till in different parts. A taxi driver of our locality used to pick me up whenever he would see me on the road. Today was no exception. I was dropped in front of the railway station. Our town though small carries lots of passengers from here to the nearby cities. Whenever I go out alone I carry plenty of coins. It helps in paying the fare as I can feel the value of the coin from its touch. It saves me from the unnecessary embarrassment of getting an unknown person’s sympathy. I got myself a ticket, took the sideway stairs and waited amongst the already growing crowd. The train arrived at 6:30 am. The beep of my electronic watch indicated that the train was at the right time. I understood the direction of rush of the passengers as the train halted. I moved in the direction of the wave. I went inside and perchance seeing my old age a person spoke out, “You can sit by the window.” Looking in the direction of the voice I said, “Sure, thank you.” I sat down relaxed.

My smell and touch sensation have become stronger from the time I lost my vision. My eyes are not deformed like many other blind people and this saves me from the trouble of wearing black specs. Whenever I travel by train, I try to get the corner window as it gives a good excuse of looking outside and avoid direct contact with other commuters. For me lesser talk is having the lesser chance of making known my physical deformity and consequently lesser chance of embarrassment. I slid down the glass shutter as the wind was very cold. The train whistled and with a mild jerk started its journey. A tea vendor was in the compartment. A cup of tea with ginger flavour is always of my liking. Someone from my right side called the tea vendor. The vendor was preparing tea when I added, “One for me also.” I opened the zip of the jacket and took out a two rupee coin and gave it to the vendor when he gave me the tea cup. I was looking towards the paddy fields while sipping tea. I was about to throw the cup when the same generous voice said, “Please do not trouble your self. You give it to me, I will throw it.” As is the custom I said, “Thank you very much.” “Oh no, it is completely my pleasure”, the person said. To keep the conversation alive I looked in the direction from where the voice came before and said, “Where do you live?” “Reabganj, the station before yours”, he said. I asked, On asking his name he said his name was Amar. On being asked where his destination is the person said, “To Agra, as my exams are scheduled to start in a few days.” I understood that he was a student. “So Amar, what are you studying at present?” He replied, “M.Sc...” Before he could finish I exclaimed, “M.Sc in Chemistry.” Amar on the contrary said, “I am studying Physics; I do not like Chemistry.” He asked me why the name of chemistry struck my mind. I said to amar that it was my son’s favourite subject. My mind recoiled back to the days when Bhargav would write letters to his mother saying how he missed us both. Shanti being a teacher always hided her feelings saying sternly, “Career first and the rest afterwards.” She did this to motivate Bhargav, who understood the importance of career building. Just when it was the time to return home and be with us, we missed Bhargav forever. My mind was going through the trauma of Bhargav’s death in sleep.

Contd...P/3

HANDICAP - 1

People have a tendency to hide their weakness. They disclose their troubles only when they find someone afflicted in the same profundity by which they are themselves suffering. Then they seem to be the perfect companions both in joy and sorrow. Variety is the spice of life. True but, there are other aspects of life which remains mostly hidden from the mainstream.

The winter season in Rehalpur is a pleasant one, though everybody may not agree. Houses which have glass pane windows collect dew in the early morning and the reflection of the sun on it delivers a fair beauty. The touch of the cold dew and the warmth of the glass give birth to a diverse feeling. Nothing seems to have changed for a retired Brigadier of the 37 Rajput Battalion. Nothing should have changed really. I know I never deserved such a change. My wife’s call from the kitchen bought my senses back. “Abhay, where are you, coffee is ready?” said Shanti, my wife. Age did not snatch away the sweet and tender voice of my wife. Not only me but my friends also share the same opinion. My wife Shanti was working as Principal at a private English medium school in Rehalpur. She took voluntary retirement two years ago. The day our only son Bhargav passed his M.Sc in Chemistry, I went to Agra to bring him back home. We were scheduled to come back by train in the afternoon. Bhargav wanted to surprise his mother. He insisted me to travel by bus so as to reach quickly. After half an hour later, I saw Bhargav was asleep. He had this habit while traveling by bus. Suddenly, the bus in order to avoid a cow herd on the road swerved sharply on the left and fell in a small waterway. In that journey my son like many others lost his life and I, my vision, my future support. Even today, the cries of the helpless passengers echo in my ears. From that day Shanti left her job and stayed back at home to be my constant companion.

“What happened? Your coffee is untouched, and what are you thinking? Do you have fever? Are you feeling unwell?”, said my wife. This is the expected behavior of a typical Indian wife. Too many questions to answer for me; But then again that is the way I like it. “Nothing, I am all right”, I said. Not satisfied with my answer Shanti touched my forehead and cheeks with her palm to see if I have caught cold. While sipping coffee I lightheartedly said, “Shanti you have not changed a bit. Still the same like the college days.” “I have not changed! Maybe, but you haven’t changed either”, was my wife’s quick reply. I was sipping my coffee as the conversation stopped for sometime. “I can not bear anymore changes……………” saying this, she started to weep. I tried to console her knowing that it is of no use. The unbearable pain of a mother losing her son. She sits in front of Bhargav’s photo and cries profusely. I have heard that time heals injuries. This rule perhaps is not always applicable. During my training days at the NDA, our trainer used to tell us ‘Men don’t cry.’ Maybe that is why my tears have dried long ago, only the pain in mind remained. This has been more or less the daily routine of my wife for the past two years. Regaining my composure I said, “I have to leave now or I will be late.” Shanti said, “Be careful on the footpath. Do not step down on the road. Walk slowly.” These precautions are hurled at me whenever I go outside alone.

Contd...P/2

SWEET ROSE

Waiting alone to spread wings,

for journeying into unknown things,

Moving across the metal cage,

skyward bound like heavenly sage.

The body flies though soul is here,

feeling joy as the sky is near.

The open and brightly lit sky,

pulls her close, lifts her high.

Spirits high is youthful love,

power of an eagle, tender like dove.

You know how to pull me close,

you are my love, my "sweet rose".

Prasenjit©1997-2011

ON KARGIL

They are our pride and glory,

martyrs of a chivalrous story.

Far from home under the skies,

guarding our land till sunrise.

Bullets, blood and sleepless nights,

unending seems the raging fights.

Rocky terrain, chilling breeze,

greets them across the ridge.

Pride of nation in their keep,

gun in hand, dagger in hip.

They reach where eagles dare,

for ownself they never care.

Steep terrain with ups and dips,

coward enemies watches 'n' peeps.

A deadly struggle keeps on,

day and night, on and on.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

NATURE AND YOU

Maybe tomorrow will be better,

if not soon maybe later.

I am outside feeling cold,

longing for you - touch of gold.

Let me in, let me be near,

I fear the cold, I fear...

Keep the furnace inside warm,

draw me close with your charm.

The wind gushing with power,

pull me near with passing hour.

Like a thunder it rises,

with naughty pinch it surprises.

Your bosom like a closet - warm,

keeps me away from all harm.

Magnolia and dandelions greet,

'my love', you are lovely 'n' sweet.

Prasenjit©1997-2011

NATURE

If the sun comes down,
from heaven to my town.
It would be always warm,
and people adoring its charm.

What if the silver moon,
would not fade so soon?
It would be so calm,
with peace in my palm.

What if the coming eve,
has a surprise to give?
Dawn, dusk and night,
beautiful in all its might.

Nature! Its lovely treasure,
bestows joy without measure.
Leaves, grass and dews,
in glory with lovely hues.

I want to drench in rain,
falling from sky like train.
Drops sweet and round,
merrily greets the ground.



Prasenjit©1997-2011

REMEMBER ME

If in the coming days,
you fondly remember me.
Amongst clouds and sunrays,
those moments like eternity.

If in the coming days,
you fondly remember me.
With purity someone prays,
destiny is destined to be.

If in the coming days,
you fondly remember me.
An urge in the heart craves,
deep within it rises in me.

I know in the coming days,
you will fondly remember me.
Forever in many ways,
I'm yours and always will be.



Prasenjit©1997-2011

MAY DAY VOICES

Alone in the lonely crowd,

in foolishness feeling proud.

Our toil, blood and sweat,

for centuries did wait.

Voice suppressed to the core,

that time and again did roar.

Our hearts meant to trust,

were left forever to rust.

Hands that fold in prayer,

can dethrone the betrayer.

"Rights" are rightfully ours,

demanded for toiling hours.

What is ours in heat 'n' dust,

will surely be ours at last.

Give the tyrants no choice,

but to accept our rightful voice.

Prasenjit©1997-2011