Non-erotic The Scarface I Hated by Trambak

[Ramesh_Rocky]

One day he came late at night and called my mother. I was sleepy and they were discussing something in a low tone. I was intrigued and tried to overhear. My father was telling my mother that an extremist group was trying to inflame passions by telling people that all the firewood was being diverted to the rich and influential people and the poor were being left only to die. They were telling them that how people were duped by being paid a pittance for the firewood they get from the jungle. Their moot argument was that the rich were having a comfortable time while they were dying of cold and hunger.

Baba said that there was an extreme degree of annoyance and people were seething with anger.

My mother was listening quietly. After my father finished, she asked whether there was any truth in the allegations. My father said that not everything was untrue but the way they were taking advantage of a social problem; it could result in a major catastrophe.

He then said that he has been requested by the government agencies to meet the leaders of the group involved in the propaganda on their behalf and persuade them to refrain from creating a major issue. My father had been chosen because of his acceptability and clean image among every stakeholder. But the matter was a secret.

My mother implored if he could stay out of this but my father replied that he had agreed to the proposal because the people would listen only to him and he must make all efforts to defuse the crisis.

For the first time, I saw fear in the eyes of my mother. She kept sitting clutching the thin withered shawl she was wearing. Baba turned and slept. She kept sitting.

She didn't sleep and neither did I."

Chapter-22

Imran seemed overwhelmed as if living through the frightful evening that was enacted 20 years back. I allowed him to reorganize his thoughts because I would have broken his train of thought, had I interrupted.

"The next few days, Baba hardly returned home. Whenever he came, it was either for lunch or dinner. He would quickly eat and go out again. He usually returned late at night. Once I saw him return in a security officer jeep. A lady was driving the jeep. She was wearing a security officer uniform. My father quickly came in and the jeep left quietly. I suddenly found my mother standing with me looking at the jeep. Her face looked so strained. She was living through a nightmare.

Baba came in and found us waiting for him. He looked a little embarrassed but he quickly recouped his composure. It was already late and my mother sent me to bed. But, I was in no mood to sleep. Though I was a small child, I could feel the tension at home. As if something sinister was going to happen.

My mother confronted Baba. She wanted to know what exactly was going on. Baba was secretive except for saying that he was not in a position to discuss anything because it was a sensitive governmental matter. Maa did not push the matter further. Once Baba said that it was information that even his wife was not privy to, any further query was futile.

Next day, I found Maa making arrangements. Some people were visiting us. That interested me. I never remembered anyone visiting us till date. We never went to our grandparents or for that matter anywhere. I did not know whether I had grandparents or not. They never told and I never asked. In the afternoon Baba came home accompanied by a young couple and a baby. Both of them were very smart and the aunty was beautiful. I had to grudgingly admit that she was more beautiful than my mother, my own limited standard of beauty. The uncle too was handsome and very jolly. In no time, both of them eased the atmosphere by their jovial nature.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I hated the baby. She was only about one year old and fell down whenever she walked. I felt irritated because both my parents were giving her all their attention. I felt left out. The only consolation was that the child was cheerful and seldom cried as expected of a baby. I hated children who wailed. Both my parents were mighty impressed with the baby who didn't cry and swooned over her. I was so irritated that I pulled her hair when no one was looking. She contorted her lips and made arrangements to cry but then she smiled again. I felt a little bad.

After the initial chit-chat and lunch, the three of them got down to business. They spoke in very low tones and wrote down things in a paper. I realised that the two of them had tremendous respect for my father. Whenever he spoke, they listened attentively. He passed them instructions and they frequently nodded their heads in understanding.

Things appeared normal, to a large extent. Only when I looked at mother, I could sense unease in her eyes. She continued her chores in a routine manner, like a machine bereft of emotions. But her eyes gave away her trepidation.

It was cold and the sun had set early. Around five in the evening, my father closed the meeting. All the documents were destroyed. By five thirty, they were ready. At six sharp, a black ambassador car arrived and they were ready to go. Before leaving, my father looked back. My mother was standing with me and the small girl.

He came to her and said, "Don't worry; we will be back by eight."

The beautiful aunty kissed her baby and said, "Be a good girl, I will come and feed you."

They left. The small girl waved at her parents, smiling. We stood still.

We had nothing to do except waiting for 8 o'clock to arrive. My mother continuously moved back and forth, from the window to the kitchen and again to the window. The night was silent. The movements on the street were minimal.

Even the small girl appeared to be hushed.

8 o'clock came. They did not.

We waited. Time refused to move. My mother sat on the bed with the two of us. I had no idea when I dozed off till I was awoken by my mother. Someone was at our door. I saw the time, it was 2 o'clock. I was relieved, they were back.

Maa opened the door. Instead of them, the lady in the security officer uniform was standing. Smart and rugged. She came in and looked at my mother. She said without a preamble, "Are you, Kiana? Dr Indranath's wife?"

Maa nodded her head.

"Please get ready; you have to come with me." Said the security officerwoman.

My mother did not react, did not ask a question, did not show any signs of hesitation. She simply picked me up and started to get me ready. The security officerwoman realised that the children couldn't be left home alone. She picked up the baby girl and we were ready to move.

The security officer lady drove the Jeep. I and my mother sat behind. The girl was on my mother's lap. The wind seared through our bones, the cold burnt us. We moved through the ghostly night, the headlamps of the Jeep indicating the road forward leaving everything else in darkness. I was dazed. I was too small to understand anything!

After some time, we reached a dark building with a large iron gate. The door opened and the Jeep entered. We got down and entered the building through a narrow door. There were some people sitting there. Among them, there was one person who looked kind but authoritative. There was another man who made me sit on a bench. The man with authority spoke to the security officerwoman and my mother in a low voice. My mother and the security officerwoman went inside another room. The man remained outside.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

In a short while both came out. The man went near my mother and said in a gentle voice, "Mrs Indranath. Do you recognize any of them? You can tell me. I am the magistrate."

My mother looked at him and then me.

She said in a clear but subdued voice, "I recognize Dr Indranath, my husband. The other two are the parents of this baby girl."

Then she staggered and fell. Everyone rushed to help but she got up on her own and asked the magistrate, "Can I see him once more?"

Chapter-23

As if hit by a rock I stood crushed beneath the emotional might of this incredible woman, a frail woman. And I was equally affected by her offspring, narrating the death of his father as if it was about someone else. This man also happened to be my husband, my friend, and my confidant.

Only Kiana was capable of such an act. On the face of such tragedy, only she could have stood her ground. And she did. I looked at Imran and he looked the other side. All three of us were afflicted with a similar malady. Catharsis by way of lamentation was not our way. We preferred to internalise our sorrows howsoever brutal they were.

I suddenly felt that it was a weakness, not strength.

I tried to figure out Imran's mind. All this while, he had been trying to make me comfortable while hiding within him a grief as large as a mountain. Would it have been possible for me to vocalise such trauma, such torment? I doubt that very much. I had never seen my parents, therefore I never lost them. They just weren't there for me. But for a child of barely six years, to be pulled out of the bed on a cruelly cold night and confronted with a tragedy of such magnitude was a punishment that nothing could measure up to.

I wished that Imran would refrain from speaking further. I wanted him to desist from suffering anymore and his penchant for flogging himself. No, I was not interested in his story anymore. People who were gone were not my concern. The man I was with needed the comfort, the alleviation of pain. He was my priority!

The stars were still brilliantly lit; the fireflies were still swirling around but our minds had become dull with pain. Possibly, Imran could comprehend that and whispered looking towards the sky, "Meher, there is no end to stories in real life. It continues till the life ends. There is still time and I may not have the courage to say it again. I must finish this today."

I moved near him and put my head on his shoulders, hoping it would give him the strength to go on. He turned his face and nuzzled his nose on mine and said hoarsely, "Thank you."

I held him a wee bit stronger.

"We returned back around five in the morning just as the dawn was breaking. It was a morning darker than the night. The redness on the horizon offered us no console. For us, there was no pain, no fear, no assurance, and no expectation. Maa got me ready for the college and then decided against it. And yes, she insisted that the baby is brought back. The security officerwoman hinted that she was ready to take custody of the child but my mother refused. The girl was still not crying but looking around, probably for her mother!

For the next 3-4 hours, Maa just kept on sitting. For us, there was nothing to do. People started coming in by 10. A lot of people, of different types! Government officials, security officer, neighbours and so on. Mother remained busy with them. They had a lot of questions. There was a palpable unease. We two remained in-house, closeted in a corner. No one spoke to us except one family who brought in some food and milk. Mother refused to have anything. After some time people with cameras and tape recorders came. The journalists asked questions. A few of them knew my father well. Some of them were aggressive but some were humane.

Everyone had their own agenda. Once that was fulfilled they simply left.

Colleagues of my father and the Principal of the college came in the afternoon. The Principal was a matured person and looked completely shocked. He spoke to my mother very kindly and from his body language, it was clear that he was in actual grief. For the first time, I found my mother sobbing. The teachers were a great source of support. The Principal, at once asked the journalists and the others to leave. No one dared to protest. His personality was such. He arranged food for us and assured us that he will be speaking to all concerned and get to the bottom of everything.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

But could he replace my father?

The post-mortem report came in the evening. The security officer surgeon had concluded that death was caused due to multiple bullet injuries in respect of the parents of the girl. The bullets were of two types indicating that there were different weapons involved.

Dr Indranath, my father was killed by a single bullet ostensibly fired from a 9mm Browning pistol that pierced his heart and caused death instantaneously.

The information was of no use to us.

Our question was; why?"

Imran was again distressed. I did not stop him. He wanted to be over with this agony. I needed to listen. It was an easier task. So be it.

For Imran, the worst was over and was better poised. He carried on, in a much matter of fact tone.

"My mother was escorted in the evening for the cremation. She did not take me along. She, like my father did not believe in 'last rituals and rites'. What did I feel? I did not know. Till date, I have tried to ascertain my own feelings. I don't think I felt much. In that respect, I wasn't different from that small girl except that she constantly searched for her parents that I didn't. I knew that he wasn't coming back.

Maa came back in the evening. She cooked food for us and there was a semblance of an order. Though this time, father did not return for dinner. At night, both I and the small girl slept with mother. She embraced both of us and so did we.

Next day, a lady came to our house. She was tall and gaunt. On closer look, I realised that she was the security officerwoman but out of her uniform. She was wearing a saree that made her look simple and different. She spoke to my mother. Apparently, she was moving out of the town, the same evening and had with her a court order to take along with her, the baby girl to hand over to her NOK (next of kin).

The girl surprisingly made a big fuss and clung to my mother so strongly that it was impossible for them to make her go. She did not leave her and finally slept off holding Maa. Once she was asleep, the security officerwoman gently took her in her lap and left without saying a word.

My mother for the second time in two days cried. She sat as if she was a criminal.

The security officerwoman and the small girl vanished from our life."

Imran stopped. The sky had become lighter and the brilliant sunrise was just a moment away. Imran got up and pulled me along and said, "Meher, this story has too many misfortunes, too many turns. I am sorry, I am telling you all this. But who will hear it, if not you? Is anyone else interested? Come, let's catch some sleep."

Without giving me a chance to respond, he guided me along to the bedroom and lay down. I too lay down with him. The night had taken its toll on him.

I looked at his tormented face and kissed him full on the lips while embracing him with all my might.

Maybe, like Kiana had done 20 years back!

Imran too, like a child, held on to me.

I wasn't sure what time it was when I woke up but I did not find Imran in the bed. He was outside, on the terrace sitting on the chair that was witness to his singularly unique account that had sapped all his energy. He looked better composed. He was more like the man I was familiar with.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

He looked up and signalled me to join him. The tea was still warm and exuding the aroma that I was getting accustomed to. I waited for him to say something.

"Meher, we will visit the college today. Many of my father's colleagues are still there. There is something I want to show you." Imran said.

I was intrigued, "When?" I asked.

"In an hour's time." He said.

Manirul mian came and today I was much more open to him. The lunch menu was decided quickly and I took a bath and got ready. Imran had already finished with his bath. Manirul mian served us with a typical local breakfast comprising of 'litti, ghugni and khaja'. I was familiar with the food but in his hands, it tasted absolutely delectable.

We walked down to the college that was about a mile away. There was not much traffic and I enjoyed the walk. Imran appeared a bit preoccupied and answered in 'yes and no's'. Soon, we reached the college gate. Though the gate was closed and a 'Durwan' was standing. The gatekeeper faintly smiled at us and opened the gate.

Imran stood facing the creamish yellow building that extended widely on both the sides. I could see a large assembly area on the right and an equally large football ground on the right. The roads were gravelled and lined with bricks alternately coloured with 'geru and chuna' (red and white) and well-manicured hedges all around. Students were moving purposefully, deeply absorbed in their work. Everything inside appeared to be knit in a discipline that was ever encompassing but did not scare away.

He gently guided me inside through the foyer which was reminiscent of a combination of Indo-British style. There were pictures of students who had done the college proud of their achievements. Imran pointed out a picture of a boy in a tie and strict haircut. Written under it was 'I. Dasgupta; 1982-89'. As I looked at it carefully, I realised that I was looking at Imran, very different from what he was now.

'I. Dasgupta' was another surprise because I always thought that Imran was only 'Imran' without any prefix or suffix.

The Principal's office was at the end of the corridor that had a swing door. A young man was sitting on a stool. As we were about to enter, he momentarily got up and sat down again to allow us entry. The room was full of books and trophies. The pieces of furniture were all wooden and large. A white-haired gentleman sat on a high-backed chair. Seeing us enter, he quickly rose and came around to greet us. Though old, he was not feeble and his eyes twinkled with intelligence. Imran touched his feet and he hugged Imran for a long time. I too touched his feet and he turned his full attention towards me and said brightly, "Imran, this must be your wife. She is such a charming lady. Congratulations." Imran introduced me to him as Meherunissa and the old man for a moment became thoughtful. He recovered quickly and said in a jovial tone, "Ah! Very apt name indeed. Very apt."

He motioned us to sit and spoke to me in a kind benevolent voice. I felt like a student all over again.

"Dear Meherunissa, Imran has been one the brightest student that our college has seen. He has been a worthy son to his father Indra and of course his mother, Kiana. I have never seen such a brave woman in my life. My association with Indra was only for three years but his enthusiasm, knowledge and love for his students was simply unparalleled. And similarly, his students would do anything for him. But mind you, they never did anything wrong. A lot of people were motivated by him and to date so many are following his directions. His life was snuffed out along with two others that remain irreplaceable. I am so happy that you both have come here. It's a proud moment for all of us."

Then he looked a bit embarrassed and said, "Age is catching up and my tendencies to ramble has also increased. Please pardon me. Let me take you around, young lady."

I was getting spellbound by his easy lilting speech that I took some to react. All three of us walked through the corridors of the institution that was replete with history. It was mesmerising. It was impossible to gauge how massive the college was from the front. He took us through the classes, the hostel and the various places like the music room, art room and so on. It did not take me long to realise that the intense dedication and modern thinking of the resident faculty, away from the distractions of a city had done wonders. Indeed, boys were made into men of substance here.

At the end, we came back to the front porch. He took us to a shaded area surrounded by a hedge of hibiscus and a 'Bakul' tree laden with flowers. There was a simple flat platform of white marble and an inscription. It read:

Indranath, Amaya, and Ardeshir.

You gave your lives so that others could live.

15 Jan 1980

End of Pt.6

[kamdev99008]

a marvelous story by trambak .................

thanks for reposting here