They reached their destination on the scheduled time. They took their
positions. The tall man looked at his friend and made a facial gesture. The
other fellow handed him the packet. The tall fellow took the device out of the
packet and pressed some buttons present on it. He then checked his time-piece.
“The train is to reach here in five minutes”. The others didn’t reply. They
just raised their thumbs. The tall fellow then placed the device carefully on
the railway track and covered it with some stone-chips. He then took out his
remote control. “Let’s move,” he said, and all of them moved to a distance and
hid behind the bushes.
Seven minutes passed, and they did not hear the sound of any train. Their
faces showed tension. Their eyes showed anger. Today they were to avenge their
years of hunger and poverty.
And then, they heard the noise of the train. Each soul got excited. The
tall fellow got up from his place. As the train was running over the place
where he had put that device, the tall fellow closed his eyes and pressed the
remote button hard.
Two seconds. Four seconds. Ten seconds. The train crossed the place and
took its way. It soon got out of site. Silence prevailed. There was no noise
that they were expecting for.
The tall fellow opened his eyes, unable to judge if they had failed in
their attempt, or had he suddenly gone deaf. The other members also came out of
the bushes. They looked at one another. And then, they suddenly heard somebody
speak in shrill tone- “Don’t move, else we will shoot. Stay where you are.”
The area was filled with police and CISF.
Three months later
“Sitting with the phone every minute! Have you forgotten we had to go
shopping?”
“I remember, Rimi. Just a minute more.”
“Who is online? Painter babu?”
Srijita looked at Rimi with a half-annoyed face. “I have told you not to
use that name.”
“Achcha baba I won’t say again. You enjoy your copyright. Happy now? So… is
Joy online?”
“Yep,” Srijita replied with a smile. “He has sent another sketch. Just
see.”
“Wow! Looks so real yaar!”
They stayed in the hostel present inside the grand campus of Durgapur
College of Medicines, better known as DCM. It had been a long time Srijita had
not gone home. So this time, she had decided to take with herself, gifts
for every member of her family. And now, when the time of shopping had come,
she got busy on Facebook. She is actually not a Facebook addict. But then, Joy
was online.
Judging from his Facebook profile, Joy was a fair-complexioned guy with
spiky hair who loved painting and was extremely good at it. He stayed in
Kolkata where he was pursuing MBA. His hometown was in some village. He and
Srijita were Facebook-friends for a couple of months. Srijita loved to see his
paintings. But she herself did not know how close she came to him when she saw
portrait of her own face as drawn by him. The portrait is now her laptop’s
wallpaper.
As Srijita shut her laptop and was ready to leave for shopping her phone
rang.
“Hello aunty… yes… please tell what happened… WHAT?!!!”
She stood with her phone like a statue. On the constant pokes by Rimi, she
just replied- “Papa has been hit by a bullet.”
The train rushed at its speed. Sometimes over the bridges. Sometimes amidst
the greenery. The bogie was almost empty of passengers. Srijita’s eyes were
wet. She felt lonely. Just as infectious creatures like mosquitoes breed in
stagnant water, similarly, ominous thoughts breed in an idle brain. The same
happened with Srijita as well. The ominous thoughts could find no other victim
as good as her at this moment. To rescue herself from them, Srijita took her
phone and tried listening to her favourite songs. But they didn’t help. She
wanted to call somebody. But to whom? She rolled down her contacts list to see
if she could find anybody worthy of calling- one who, she felt, could beat those
ominous thoughts. There was no one. Whenever she fell in any problem she called
her papa itself. But today he himself was the cause of her problem. She was to
keep her phone back in her bag only when she noticed the facebook icon.
She logged in to her account, still unsure if it would be of some help. A
few of her friends were online. As she scrolled the list she came across the
name ‘Joy’. She clicked on it.
‘Hi’ she typed.
‘Hello dearie. How are you?’
‘Not so fine. Papa is ill’
‘Why? What happened?’
She wondered whether she should tell everything. She had never seen this
fellow. But he also had never seen him. What would happen if he came to know
it?
‘A bullet has hit him.’
‘What? Hope you are not kidding.’
Was she kidding? Her papa was there in the hospital this fellow asked if
she was kidding! Srijita was to type something out of anger but then controlled
herself. The fellow didn’t know the truth, and this fact is really an unusual
one.
‘I am not kidding,’ she replied.
‘How did it happen?’
‘He is a police commissioner. It is the work of the Hartists.’
‘I see’, the fellow replied and paused. His message then came again- ‘Would
you mind telling me everything about you? Just wanted to know.’
Srijita had friends, but they never valued her so much. She had no mother.
She shared everything with her father, but today this option too was not with
her. She actually felt alone. And when every known person becomes a stranger,
the mind relieves its burden by speaking it out to a stranger itself- a stranger
who has not ‘become’ a stranger.
She typed- ‘I have lost my mother in an accident. My father is a police
commissioner and is prone to attacks as he is a big enemy of the Hartists. For
my protection he has sent me to Durgapur but with repeated warnings that I do
not mix so much with people lest some enemy traces me and tries to harm me. I
am very lonely, Joy. I have nobody in my life to share my feelings with.’
She felt some amount of relief as she pressed the ‘send’ button. The heart
had released its burden, and the eyes- some drops of tear.
A minute passed and no reply came from Joy. What it mentioned was just that
he was typing. Why was Joy taking so long? Perhaps his reply would be some long
philosophical speech. Or perhaps he is still thinking of a suitable reply.
The reply was- ‘I understand dear. I am really sorry about your life. All
will be fine. Don’t worry.’
The reply was quite formal. But it brought a lot of peace to Srijita.
As Srijita got down the train in Chalsa station she found two men in khakee
waiting for her. They had come to pick her up. She went with them to their car.
As the driver took them towards their home, she asked them what the actual
cause was.
“The Hartists did this in order to seek revenge,” one of them replied,
“because of your papa’s smart plan they had failed in their attempt to bombard
Kanchankanya Express three months ago. The team members along with the leader
were taken captive. Their men, as a result, decided to avenge this.”
“How is papa now?”
“He is quite good. The bullet had hit his arm. It was a narrow escape.”
“And the fellow who had shot him?”
“He has escaped. We are looking for him.”
The Hartists hailed from the village named Hartkhola. The people there,
after years of suffering, had decided not to let anybody stay in peace. They
believed they are poor because somebody has become rich with their money. For
years they had been looking for jobs, going door to door for money, but nobody
helped them. Each day they saw their near and dear ones die because of diseases
and hunger. And this thing ultimately had compelled them to rise against the
ones who were not like them.
“Beta… see what has happened..!” Aunt said as she ran to hug Srijita. The
other members helped her with her huge luggage. They didn’t stay there for
long. Despite her unwillingness, Srijita was somehow forced to take her meal.
And then, they drove to the hospital, where her father, Commissioner Anand was
admitted.
Srijita hugged her father with tear-filled eyes as she saw him sitting on
his bed. His right arm had a big bandage.
“Don’t cry beta. You must be proud of your papa.”
“I don’t want all this, papa. I just want you. What would have happened had
the bullet hit your chest?”
Commissioner Anand caressed his daughter’s head and said, “Do not worry.
Nothing bad will happen as long as my daughter is with me.”
Srijita was not moved by this flattery. She was sad for her papa. But deep
inside she was proud of him.
In another part of the town
“How could you miss it, you fool?” asked the man in the dhoti-kurta to the
other man whose head was bent.
“Sorry dada. Just for a bit…”
“Just keep your bloody mouth shut! Where had you been when I was teaching
you people to shoot?”
“Now what will we do, baba?” asked the fellow sitting on the fibre chair.
“Now we have just one way out. That bloody commissioner’s
daughter has come. It is time to kill her.”
“Are you sure?” the fellow in the chair stood up.
“Why? What is the problem?”
“She hasn’t done anything.”
The man in dhoti came close to his son. He held his arms. “No son. Every
person like them is at fault. And it will really be a good lesson for them. The
commissioner will lose his daughter, and only then will he realize what a
child’s death means to a father.”
The young fellow’s innocent eyes filled with vengeance as he recalled how
his sister had died of a terrible disease. She was admitted in the nearby
government hospital, but the doctors there recommended her to be transferred to
a better place as her condition was very serious. She was admitted in the
nearest private hospital where they charged huge money. These people had to
sell a portion of their land for the same. But ultimately there was no
improvement in her. When they lacked money they had knocked many doors for
help, but all in vain. The major operation, as a result, could not be carried
out. She had to depend on small medicines till the day the doctor declared with
a sad face that she was dead.
The fellow got ready with the gun. In no time he and his people went to the
jungle by the road and took their positions. The moment they saw Srijita
returning from the hospital they blocked the place. Soon the guards, who were
with them, also got active with their guns. The fight began.
Srijita and the other members inside the car were told to hide themselves
below the seats lest some bullet hit the window. Srijita was terrified as she
heard the sounds of bullets and cries of pain of the people who were hit, from
both sides. As the firing continued, she picked up bit of courage and raised her
head upto her eyes to look outside the window. She was, indeed, shocked to see
the bodies of the dead people fallen on the floor, bleeding- be it some guard,
or some Hartist. Earlier she had never seen such a thing in real. She closed
her eyes for a second, but looked again. The Hartists were scattered in the
jungle, hiding behind the trees and bushes and aiming at the guards from there.
There were so many of them.
And then, suddenly her attention fell on the face of an angry young Hartist
trying to shoot from a distance. She just stared at his face. The fellow, from
the distance, also noticed the eyes of the girl. He closed his eyes and
recalled his sister’s lifeless face. He opened his eyes and as he aimed at her
forehead, he saw the girl raise her head to the fullest. They saw each other
clear. The sounds of bullets surpassed any other sound. Nobody heard what the
girl suddenly said at that time. Only the boy could understand by the movement
of her lips what she had uttered. She had uttered his name.
Before anything else could be done by them, the road had been cleared of
any rival. The driver was asked to move on. He raised his head in fear, and
sped the car towards the destination.
The CISF Jawans were informed of this. They soon arrived there with
different kind of rifles for their protection.
In her room, Srijita was on her bed with tears in her eyes. She still could
not believe if it was Joy whom she had seen. How could Joy be her enemy? Or how
could she herself come such close to her enemy? She remembered how in the train
she had shared her deepest secrets with him. How she had believed in him.
She wept as she thought all this. And her every fallen tear made her strong.
Strong and determined. She knew what she had to do. She rang up one of her
father’s colleagues.
“Uncle, I know one of the Hartists involved in this. I would give you every
detail of him.”
It was 11 pm. Srijita and her other relatives had their dinner. They had
almost gone to sleep when a guard came in to announce that the Hartists had
placed their attack. They had to be careful.
The CISF Jawans got into action in no time. Very soon the firing began
again. This time, the Hartists were a huge force. They had covered a good part
of the fields behind their house. The grass had grown tall enough and it
was difficult for one to see where they exactly were hiding. And then, they
heard a huge noise. A portion of their house was in flames. “Goodness! They are
throwing bombs,” Uncle said.
They did not know what to do. All three of them- Uncle, aunt and Srijita
herself- hid under the bed. They could see a Hartist enter the room and search
for them. He inspected every corner and was about to lean down to look under
the bed, when a CISF Jawan hit him from behind. All three had a sigh of relief.
But this relief was temporary. There came another bomb soon. This time, it
destroyed the wall of the room they were in.
Aunt whispered in Srijita’s ear- “Beta, right now they won’t come this side
as they must be assuming nobody is alive here because of the bomb. You crawl
through this area and try to escape this place secretly.”
“Yes, it would be good if you leave the place now,” uncle supported.
“But what will happen to you people?”
“Do not worry. Nothing will happen to us. You leave before they come
again.”
Srijita didn’t want to. But her uncle and aunt forced her to leave. With
tears in her eyes she crawled out of the broken wall and went towards the dark.
She crossed her backyard and entered the grassy land.
A little away, one could see from the moonlight, the silhouette of a father
and a son.
“Take this gun. Get ready. We HAVE to make our mission a success this time
at any cost.”
“Yes baba,” Joy replied.
Just then the man’s phone rang. He picked it up.
“Yes,” he said as he held the phone.
From the other side it said- “Everything is going as per our plan. Our
niece has left the place and has entered the farm.”
“Good!” the man said and hung up. He then turned to his son. “Your turn has
come. Go ahead. All the best.”
As Joy marched towards that direction a cavalcade of thoughts went on in
his mind. He felt his mind get divided into two parts- an angel and a devil.
But which one was the angel and which one was devil, he couldn’t decide.
“Joy don’t do this. The girl is not at fault.”
“Joy, this is our mission. You are the hope of every Hartist right now.”
“Joy you are doing wrong. It is not good to kill innocent.”
“Then why did your sister have to die? Was she not innocent?”
“The girl trusts you Joy. She has shared her feelings with you.”
“It is not your fault if she trusts you. And you should be proud you have
been able to fool one among those who have been fooling you people for
decades.”
“This is not a solution. Hatred carries nothing.”
“You are getting soft corner towards one who is your enemy! Think about
your baba. His respect among Hartists is in your hands now.”
“So for him am I compelled to do something I feel wrong?”
“It is not wrong. And the fact is if you don’t kill the girl your baba is
definitely going to kill himself. He can’t stand this.”
As Srijita tried to cross the area she came across the body of a dead
Hartist. This time, she had no time for feelings for the dead. She saw the
revolver in his hand and picked it up. She then went ahead. She crawled and
crawled until she reached at a distance. And then, she suddenly saw somebody
holding a gun. She could not see the face, just the silhouette. But it was
enough for her to understand who the person was. Her fear was replaced by
anger. She stood up. The guy noticed her. He raised his revolver to shoot her.
“Are you doing right?” something asked him again.
The girl also raised the revolver. This time she had no fear. She just had
anger. The revolver weighed heavy. For the first time she was going to use it.
She closed her eyes tight, and pressed the trigger. BOOM!
The revolver fell from her hand.
Soon there came a shrill cry from the boy’s side. The girl opened her eyes.
With the moonlight, she could just see the boy hold his chest with one hand.
She knew she had taken her revenge.
The boy held his gun with the other hand. She pointed it towards the girl.
The girl’s anger gradually got over as she had taken her revenge. And the fear
again took its place. She turned the other side and began running as fast as
she could. “Boom!” came the noise from the boy’s revolver, followed by the words
“I’m sorry”, which nobody except him could hear. The girl fell down. She closed
her eyes. She felt it is all over. It took half a minute for her, before she
realized she had escaped the bullet. She got up and began running again.
On the other hand, the boy lay flat on the ground, writhing with pain. The
moon, from the top, had seen a good amount of bloodshed by then. It hid behind
the cloud. The darkness increased. The boy himself could not see the blood that
was oozing out of his chest. He could just feel it. Questions and arguments
still went in his mind.
“Have you done right?”
“Why not? Now baba won’t have to face insults from any Hartist. His son
would die a martyr’s death for them.”
“But you could not hit the girl.”
“I had tried. But couldn’t.”
“Didn’t you think of the lots of Hartists who have been suffering?”
“Our suffering won’t reduce if we make them suffer.”
“Your Baba had taught you to use the gun. But you could not make its proper
use. You couldn’t even shoot a girl. Why?”
“Because I… I loved the girl.”
“You loved the girl?! You loved your enemy?”
“The rich can be the poor’s enemy. A police commissioner or his daughter
can be a Hartist’s enemy. But ‘Srijita’ was never ‘Joy’’s enemy. If at all I
have made a mistake, it was a fortunate one. It has rescued me from committing
a blunder. And secondly, hatred can be overcome only by love.”
As Joy thought all this he felt his soul leaving his body. He closed his
eyes. When he knew he could utter just one last line, he said- “Stay happy, my
Hartist companions. Stay happy, Srijita.”
He was now a lifeless body.
Srijita ran and ran until she found some of her papa’s acquaintances. She
narrated everything to them. Some of their men went to the spot, only to find
the lifeless body of Joy, his one hand holding the gun, and other one on his
blood-stained chest.
One of them phoned Commissioner Anand in the hospital- “Good news, sir. The
situation has been brought under control. Majority of the Hartists have been
killed. Others have been taken captive.”
“That’s great. Anything else?”
“And there is a sad news. We could not rescue your brother and his wife.
They have been killed. Your house has also been bombarded. But your daughter
has done a very brave act. She has killed the Hartist who had tried to kill
her.”
And in a short time, the area was completely at peace. The localites saw
the alive Hartists being carried to jail. The Hartist leader had tears as well
as pride in his eyes. His son had died a martyr’s death.
This incident ultimately led to a conference. After a lot of debate and
discussion, the Hartists decided to drop their guns, while the Government
decided to take special steps regarding their benefit as a whole.
Srijita was awarded by the President for her brave act. She still could not
believe how she could do such a task. It was beyond her dreams.
It was yet another night. The farm behind Srijita’s re-constructed house
was deserted. From the moonlight one could just see the silhouette of the two
owls that stayed there. They were talking to each other.
“So, is your nest complete?” one of them asked.
“Yes. Pray no bullet damages it again,” the other replied.
“It seems the boy had got a liking for you. He had cried with pain when the
girl shot your nest.
“May be it was fear that had made him cry out in that manner. You could see
how nervous he was throughout the time.”
“No. The boy was fearless. He had cried when the girl hit your nest. But
did not make a single noise later when he shot himself.”
(Pic courtesy: storymirror.com)
