The Quest

Sometimes I think my life can be different.
This can lead to a two misleading deduction. One I am not happy with my life. Another, I want to change my life-style. But both are wrong. The truth is that, I just want to search my soul a bit further. Escaping from the daily demands of life, the agony of any uncherished dreams and ever booming hopes of a middle class young corporate. Just to remove the branded ‘tags’ and where I am truly my own. Where my whims are my boss and breaking rules is my job-profile.

But why I am so juxtaposed in these rubbish thoughts?
Well, its my letter and here I can write whatever I feel. Thus I am free to express myself here. And thus I would not dare any pinching eyebrows or fake adjustments of sheer hypocrisy.

But still life amazes me with its beautiful flavours.

Once while traveling with my friend in Agra-Delhi Highway in bike we stopped at a Dhaba.
It is nearly three in the morning. But still this roadside Dhaba is awake.

Trucks are coming in large numbers….the drivers getting out and ordering lassi , tea and then talking in regional accent with other truck drivers. Hindi, Punjabi are the most frequent in this Agra-Delhi highway, still Gujrati is also heard….the radio is on ….both in the Dhaba and the parked Trucks….tunes of Himesh Reshamiya….Kajre Re….Tere bina jiya jai na….all going in random thanks to Channels of FM…. The passing on of running Trucks, cars in lightning speed….the flashes of their headlights cutting the darkness into pieces….suddenly someone shouting, ‘Arey Raju, kahan mar gaya?’….the coming of the answer from inside the Dhaba….the smell of Tarka,( a preparation of pulses), the clinging sound of spoon and glass mixing sugar in lassi ….the smoke of tea rising from the aluminum teapot kept over the furnace….the 80 power yellow bulb hanging from the bamboo wall….some birds sitting on the thatched roof , flapping their wings ….preparing to fly for the day….the small boy in this darkness also running swiftly to serve the food…. The Dhaba is alive….these Dhabas hardly sleeps .
After having food we slept over a bamboo-strip bed, locally called ‘Khatiya’. Open in the air.
I tried to remember that when did I last saw sky like this.
The sky is just kissed by a faint light. The colour of this light is just maddening…the light itself shows the slow evolution of morning from night….I once had a great friendship with this moment of nature….in my childhood I often visited my maternal house ….the village is in the banks of the Subarnarekha river…it was during this moment that my grandfather everyday used to walk out from house….he went everyday to the river and made worship to the first ray of the light of the sun….I sat quietly in the banks….the gentle wave touched my feet….the wind drew many wrinkles over the water….the deep blue sky passing on to be a bit lighter….then more lighter….then golden….then morning ….it was unbelievable….everyday I waited when that moment would come and everyday I had the fear that maybe he would find the sky and the river…. old….but it never occurred….when I grew up….when I first started writing ex-pressions through words in personal diary….I understood that nature is forever….it never gets old….
I also remembered those daysof childhood which I spent on Benaras.
We had a small rented house in Varanasi….my mother , a teacher of a Govt. school….my little sister….Rini….who is in seven now….my father….
Died in cancer…. My relationship with the morning and the evening Ganges…. dancing over the boat with the old Ali Bhai, the old boat man smiling with numbered teeth’s….the romanticism of roaming through the different ghats of Varanasi in boat….things changes….the day when I lighted the funeral pyre of my father in the burning ghat beside the Ganges….my life changed from that day….I never got my father’s Govt. job….politics, backdoor….anything can be the reason….thus I decided that I have to shine in life….and mother gave her every deposited money for my engineering..
Now I am standing here..working in an MNC.. but where is that smell of nature….where is the simple picture of my grandfather walking through wet fields of villages….where are my little emotions….irrelevant illogical likings of meaningless things…. moments….where is my lost diary….where I have lost my feelings to scribble up anything, everything for my own….for just to find a different me within ….?

I feel like now as if I am lying naked below the vast sky.
How long I would only run behind career….money….selfishness….slangs….wine….women….sex….own pleasures….how long?
And at that moment as the shades of dark slowly withers away and first traces of light opening up..
I wept.
And with wet eyes I continued my quest..
My quest for the lost truth within me.

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I saw her standing over the platform..all alone..

I saw her standing over the platform..all alone..
A desolate Station of a chilled November midnight
Not a soul anywhere except she..
Has she lost the road or came there anyway?
Has she in wait for someone..her lover coming in the up-train?
Trains came..one up..one down..
No body got down
Neither she got in..
And the train disappeared among the foggy night..
At That moment she turned her eyes
and kept on me..
I shivered!
May be I have seen her earlier, yes I did..
I met her on the stairs of Varansi on the bank of the Ganges..
Or I met her on a boat in the mid river?
Or is it on the busy streets of Calcutta,
Or in a narrow muddy strip of a remote village?
I don’t know..
I saw her standing..all alone with eyes not on me..

I smiled..
May be I have seen her no where
May be I have seen her everywhere
As she is nothing but a very simple woman..
On whom I found my piece of love..!
I saw her standing over the platform..all alone....

Sohini and that Guy at Tundla

Sohini found herself totally alone once the Jodhpur Mail left the station.
Among the thick mass of fog.
Which is spreaded everywhere.
She took a long breath.
She made her dupatta proper over her shoulder.
She brushed her hands through the uncombed hair.
And then she started walking through almost dark station.
Sohini looked at her watch.
Its four past ten in the morning.

Naturally the whole platform is sleeping.
Shades of dark and faint light dispersing the sky and the universe.

Sohini walked on silently.

She spreaded her eye lids open.
She kept her eyes on the station before her.
Tundla Junction.
Though the word ‘junction’hardly symbolizes now as it is almost silent.
Sounds appearing only as guests in the station. And that also in the mode of passing and halting trains.The usual booming hub of a station is totally lacking here.


What lies in abundance is different sketches of nature.
The sky a pallet of blue where now slowly and slowly splashes of violet purple and red are appearing. Soon the ratio of red would submerge the other as the morning is about to bloom. The air is totally calm though sometimes with frequent moody undulations. Flatterings of birds wings , the wavy flight of them in the sky, pigeons sitting on the roof of the platform slowly twisting their little legs, a smell..a mixture of dust, grass, air and the morning itself slowly filling up the air..

Sohini walking within this wonderful offerings of dawn felt that it is one of the most memorable sight she had seen of a station.

Being herself a renowned reporter Sohini have to travel a lot..she changed trains many times during night, early morning at different places all over the world..but she cant remember such a picture of dawn blooming among a station.
Sohini nodded because she thought, as nowhere she saw such a silence in this time.
And morning demands silence.
And there is a uniqueness that a big station being totally silent.

Sohini stopped. She is now at the middle of the station. She looked around.
People, Coolies , Beggars all lying in the platform some in seats, some in floors.
Dogs roaming. Some running through the tracks.

But Sohini didn’t found what she is looking.
A tea- stall.
In this first week of October the wind is quite chilled.
And so long as long as it was calm it was not felt.
But now the wind is flowing scatteredly.
Flocks of fog now slowly rising over the tracks.
Sohini badly needs a cup of tea.
But where?
Because not a single shop is open.

Faint light is increasing now. The clock pointing 4.30 A. M.
Still the station is soundless.
And now Sohini felt that quite strange.
Why not even a tea-stall is opening also?

A Coolie is passing by her side.
She asked about a cup of tea-stall.
The Coolie while passing said ‘ Dukan to hai bahaut lekin aj nehi khulega, aj yahan bandh hai! ( Due to a bandh no shop would open here today.)

Now the puzzle came to be solved.
This is the mystery of such a silent Tundla Junction station!

Sohini felt disgusted.
So she had to spend here the next three hours without any activity.
And she like a crap not brought a single paperback with her this time. She planned to buy it here but naturally now it became vain.

Little traces of sounds coming.
As people who are sleeping are gradually waking.
Sohini felt that she need to go to toilet once to freshn up.
Though the sight of a waiting room toilet doesn’t appear pleasant to her.
But still she went.

After getting rid of the tiredness and combing her hair Sohini felt that only thing she needs now is to change the salwar.
But she gave up the idea.

As soon as she came outside the waiting room Sohini heard the sound of Azan.
Morning blossoming up.
Trains coming, but the local trains all stranded.
Naturally as it is a bandh here.

Sohini started walking.

Still some hours of Train journey left.
Their newspaper ‘The Daily Chronicle’ having its Annual Conference this time in Simla.
Earlier it was scheduled in Mumbai. Due to a change and that also only three days ago,
Flight tickets are nor available.
Thus she had to do the booking like this.
She would meet the rest of the Team at Kathgodam.

Suddenly Sohini heard a different sound.
Within the floating sound of Azan, another sound got mixed.
An unique sound.
And Sohini knew this sound from her childhood.
It is the sound of dhak.

And listening to it Sohini at once remembered that today the date is October 12th and today is Saptami(The firsta day of Puja).
Through the shades of platform a cold wind hit Sohini.
She spreaded her dupatta over her salwar and cardigan.

She felt that a shawl would be a much better option.

The sound of dhak now sounding in rhythmic tune.
It is coming from outside the station.

Sohini ran towards the station gate.
And as she reached there she saw that just opposite to the station there is a pandal where there Durga Puja is taking place.

Sohini came out.
It is morning now.
Scent of flowers filling the air, fog slowly slipping away.
The dhak is beating.
In that very known dancing tone.
Sohini went to cross the road.
Somebody shouted, ‘Mat jaiye bahinji, yahan golmaal ho sakta hai.’(Someone shouted not to go.)
But Sohini hardly cared.
She is Sohini Sen ,renouned journalist of a leading daily newpaper.
She would be afraid of this type of little political disturbances?
Sohini smiled.
And crossed the road.

And soon she came near the pandal.
And then she saw Devi Durga.
What a beautiful Idol!
The Goddeesses is decorated in total white which in local Bengali called’ Daker Saj.
Though in narrow sense some differences can be found of the Idol which easily denotes that this idol is not made in Bengal.
But still she is Devi Durga!
Still it is the Durga Puja.
Still a glamorous spectacle with the right mixture of beating of dhaks!

Sohini took the handycam out , she kept her eyes on the lenses
And at that moment the incident happened.
Two bullets passed narrowly Sohini, one beside her back and another just missing her feet.
In front of her eyes a car was lit in fire.
And at that moment as Sohini jumped at a corner of the pandal a guy caught her hand
and pull her and soon they are running through the back lane of the pandal towards the station.
Reaching within the station, the guy left the hand and said, ‘maf Karna!’
Sohini who got back her breath now said ‘Sukriya!’

The guy smiled.
And then added ‘ Bahar halchal bahaut kharap hai..kal yahan par ek murder hua hai….’
Sohini said, ‘I see’.
Sohini started walking so do the guy.
When Sohini managed a seat the guy said, ‘Apse ak sawal karu?’
Sohini looked at him.
And to her greatest surprise the guy said , ‘Apni ki Bangali?’ in pure Bengali accent.
Sohini got a bit surprised.
The guy wearing very simple dress a brown shirt and a black faded trouser with almost torn slipper.
The picture denotes that he is a local guy and stays here nearby.
Sohini nodded and said, ‘Apnio to tai dekci..’(You also look like..)
The guy smiled and said in bengali that he is.
‘You stay here?’
‘Ha, aknei thaki oi akta choto khato chakri kori….’(He stays there and he do a small job there.)
Sohini thought this guy could give her a trace of a tea.
And surely the guy did.
When Sohini asked he said that, ‘Daran ami panch miniter madhye niye asci’
The guy disappeared.
Sohini saw her watch. Still one and a half hour for her train.
Within five minutes the guy came back with tea and samosas.
Sohini opened her money bag but the guy said,’ Na na , a ki korcen’(He refused.)

Sohini though really thankful that the guy has saved her but still wondering why he is still standing and what can be his motive.
She got again surprised when the guy asked that very question to her.
Sohini smiled and avoided the answer.

The guy said holding a cup of tea, the fact is that he likes Bengali and people from Kolkata. But unfortunately his working place and surroundings are non-bengalees. And moreover he likes to ask things about Kolkata. And then said after a brief, ‘katodin hye gelo Make dekini janen ?’(It is a long time that I saw my mother.)

Sohini though feeling a bit bored but liking the guy’s innocence.
Thus she asked now ‘Kno Kolkata gelei to hoy!’(Why, you can go sometimes..)
Jabo ki kore ja kajer chap!(How, too much work pressure.)

Though Sohini looking at the guy doubted what type of work he do and what type of pressure thus he have to take.
Sohini is getting impatient now.
Thus she took a hundred rupee note and extended towards the guy.

And soon within this sunny morning Sohini saw that the guy’s face became black.
He said, ‘Ata apni ki korcen..’
‘Na, na apni amar janya anek korechen..’(You did a lot for me.)
The guy looked at Sohini and said after a while that I did because you are a bengalee from kolkata and you got in danger.

The guy stopped for a minute.
Then said, ‘Asi’(Bye)

‘Apnar namta?’ Sohini asked.

‘Alok’

And then the guy disappeared within the station.

Sohini truly felt bad, but except that she have nothing to do..
How long she would go on talking rubbish with a stranger?

Sohini took out yesterday’s newspaper and started reading it.

Time passed.
Morning changed to day.
Winds lost its teeth.
A Pleasant day is about to begin.
Faintly the sound of Dhak still beating.

The Kathgodam Express inspite of the bandh came at the right time.
Sohini is about to carry her bag when she found that someone had already carried her bag.
That guy.
Alok.

‘Kato no kamra ?’Alok asked.
Sohini not knowing what to say replied ‘AC 1’
Alok started walking and soon Sohini found her seat.
Alok turned after keeping the bag.

‘Kno ami firlam janen..karan ami apnake duto mithye bole gecilam..(I came back because I told two lies to you.)

‘Ami akne choto khato chakri kori na..ami akjan Coolie..( I work as a Coolie and this is the first lie….)

‘Ar amr nam Arjun Bannerjee..kicu mne porce Sohini Sen?’

Sohini asked that how do he know my name?

Alok smiled and said that, Because I know you..maybe you can’t still remember me but I can never forget you..as you take away my everything.. my job..my prestige as you in your newspaper accused me for a audit scandal..the money that was lost was later found but I never got back my job..and also my mother left my home..I had no other way..for 7 months I tried for other job but not found any..ultimately I got this job of a coolie..I was bound to take it as I had to survive..but Sohini Sen I would not ask from you any help but only one thing..can you go and tell my mother that I have no faults..
Just this much can you do.. Sohini Sen..I need it ..I really need it..

The whistle of the train came.
Arjun stepped off the train.
And Sohini saw that in corner of his eyes crystal droplets of water shining..

The train left the station.
Soon passed all the traces of the Tundla Station.

Sohini knew that she would travel through thousand stations in future but she would never feel so empty..
As she left in Tundla ..
her clean image..
and her pride of being a successful reporter..

After two months from this morning Sohini submitted her resignation in ‘The Daily Chronicle’ and joined another leading news agency.

Six months from this incident Sohini again toured Simla again through Tundla.
With her team mate.
And there in the Hotel ‘The Himalayas’ they signed in the Register Book as..
Mr.Arjun Bannerjee and Mrs. Sohini Bannerjee.
And Room no 004 is a Honeymoon Suite.

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The Lady with her clothes off....

I am walking through a large empty lush green field
A Silent night like a lost visitor spreading itself
The wind in its whims passing over the grains of ripe rice
Air inviting in a mood of wonderers
Still silence reigns
Still the world waits
The moonlight now exposed totally
As there is no more cloud cover
And the moon shining in an aura of womanly essence
As if her clothes are off
And there her beautiful naked breasts looking blue
Winds slowly touching the nipples almost in a rhythm of a song
I crossed the field
And looked back
The field now looking blue
Winds breaking away the swarms of fog
Dew drops kissed the tip of the ground
I walked again
I turned again
I left her..
The gorgeous naked lady..
All alone
Like a lost Worshipper!

My Private Honour

At last you came..
I waited for long with a desire of a thirsty wings of a bird to fly
But now as the moment came when you came finally
I have nothing to offer you
Except lostness and soltude.

The moment you came
A hush of sharp wind swept the city of gray concretes
The begging bowl dropped from the hands of a wrinkled beggar
With scattered pieces of coins
Two college girls passed me running with their eyes half-closed
A swarm of dust strangled the traffic for seconds
And then the last ray of sun shaded away from the day
And my sun-burnt red face got the first touch of the Monsoon
My pains..my anger..my frustrations and all the daily hazards
Now got soaked in the water droplets
Making me nothing
But Pure..Very Pure.

And then you came
In drops..in showers..in twinkling eyes..in dancing eyelids..in tottering lips..
In open hands..in soaked hairs..in muddy shoes..
In Loving soul..
And in the first blooming of the first letter..first word..
The first tune of rhythm..
Another ordinary evening which turned special
As I got a poem..

I started walking in the rain..
I walked completely soaked..
Behind me the city looked green washed in rain
The scent of the wet soil in air..
I walked
I walked..
And I smiled..
I can lost everything but still I would be special
I would be different
As I have the gift of words with me..
The sheer amazement of poetry..
Which is my truth
My Private Honour!

A Question along the Beach

There she is.
As the wondering clouds slowly exposed the moon,as the sandy winds embarked on a high note, as the coconut trees signals towards the elapsing away of the silent fog..
There she is.

I am standing in the verandah. It is almost one the morning. And from this scarce distance also I can see her through the steamy fog which is decreasing now bit by bit.
The town behind me is sleeping, only some street dogs waving their tail and looking for some scattered food in the empty road. Just opposite me the light of the hotel still twinkling, maybe somebody has forgotten to put it off, from a distant a sound of a fading roaring bike came..
I put my eyes in front.
She is standing again by the sea.
With that same unmindfulness, a lostness in her whole appearance.
I came to Goa, three days ago and for the last two nights I saw her coming at this dead night and standing and walking there calmly.
Who is she?
Though the question is totally meaningless and I have no right to ask it.
But as a human being when I see a woman coming everyday at the same time and standing at the beach with such lostness my sensitivity rises and makes me curious?
For three days I found the woman on the beach but could not say anything .
But tomorrow I need to ask her.
I have to.
Why this lady comes to the sea every night at this hour?
I waited for morning, then evening and then night came.
But today she did not came.
Night passed. Midnight came and got ripe. Then faint light of the dawn started removing traces of darkness.
Next night she never came also.
And so the next day.
She never came.
Thus she became a mystery to me forever.
Along the beach at Calangute this lost woman is never seen again but she with all her paradoxes and beauty remained to me as one of the brightest and interesting moment and character of Goa.
Not just a woman.
A Silent wonderer.
Or may be lost lover!
Or may be she is just a simple woman who came at the beach for three days only in her whims..it is me who fantacise her and may be tried to find within her ..
My woman of Love!

A Song of a Couple in Goa

Its been a story of a long time ago..
When a boy meets girl beneath sky coloured indigo..

There are traces of gold and silver
They are bound to be in that four letter wonder

For now its a story of three months and a bit more
Oh Lets the curtain rise and on to the galore....

**************************************************************

As you smile in a bright sunny day and as the winds blow unhurt
The hostess signals 'The flight is ready to depart!'

As your face brightens and eyelids open and shine
I realize that we are slowly now in the cloud nine

Your strings of hair flows as if in a bit of sigh
A flock of clouds gently pass as if to greet us 'Hi!'

I looked I stared I talked I laughed
Its moments of sunlights immortalised

The bright orange kurta and the skinny jeans
I touched you to feel it is real and no dreams

Through food music and hostesses to adore
Kingfisher and Spicejet brings us to the shore

The shores of blue sky and golden sands
Where party begins and romance lands

I touched your hand and lifted it in mine
Your face bears nothing but a bridal shine

As we slowly steps down a breezy wind washed us in sway
I whispered 'Bride Welcome to Goa! Ahoy!'

Its Love.. when you kept your beautiful eyes on me through the evening sun
And a bunch of seagulls flies along with a speedboat run

Its love..when you touch me with your soft flowery fingers
Evening dawns as a saga of romance lingers

Its love..when you put your feet on sandgrains and move on
Your green skirt in full flow as if a maiden in a song..

Its love..when the first touch of sea kindles over your naked feet
The same touch the same wave Oh baby as if paradise lies in our feet beneath..

Its love when you open your hands below the limitless sky..
I felt like I am the king..Queen shall we fly?

Its love..when the beachlight decorates carelessly your heavenly neckline
Oh! Dont'mind I want to kiss you deep lady just there the silky line..


Its love..when you slowly dances your feet through the sea and cruise goes on
I hold you..your breath kissing me and your curves in my body.. sloping on..

Its love..when your eyes says me silently your joys beyond all strife
Oh Baby its a feeling with which I can spend thousand life

Its love..as you watched the garlands of Goa by the Mandavi river
I touched you again far from the maddening crowd as I found we shiver

Its love..when we shop mixed in the crowd of foreigner
But still you are the one my gorgeous sexy beautiful lover

Its love..when your eyes lit seeing a Lighted Church over the Highways
I fall in love with you again and would be always

Its love..when you in your crispy lips drank a toast of wine
I kissed you I hugged you and then its time to dine

Its love..when we relax at the poolside and winds blow through the green leaves
You kept your head on my shoulder..a lyrics of kiss of breathes..

Its love..when you hold me and dipped in sea and hugged me totally wet
Its love of holding a friend who from years for me await

Its love..when you say nothing at all and I looked at you
I realize that my everything is meant for you

Its love..when in night you invite me with your rosy lips and open dreams
You made me a complete man.. lady with touches of indescribable rythyms..

Thus the song goes on
And on..
A wonderful journey of a simple man
And the most beautiful woman
We hoped..we won
We aspired..we won
We dreamt..we won..
We cried..we won..

Through the sizzling sea and the cool winds
As the night midnight dawn swings
We loved..
We loved..
Thus from shores to bed
Words often said and not said..
Waves came again
Waves.. again and again..

So the story is this far
Maybe another story some day other

Maybe not in the seashore may be in some other soil
Maybe a story near a village of red soil

But for now readers you can close your eyes or bliss
As now it time for us to kiss
Kiss..Kiss..Kiss..
Oh Baby..what a deep Kiss!











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Tuli - A Short Story

A bunch of burnt bricks.
A background of green trees.
A vast blue cloudless sky.
And a dozen of maize.

Tuli surveyed the place before she sat on her marked place over the dusty ground. Yes, the place is same. There the white spot on the branches of the tree. There the numerous pebbles, there a wrecked useless radio-set, and there far across the trees the pond.
Tuli sat down after a silent prayer. She don’t know whom she is worshipping but anyway she everyday prays.
For sale of these dozen maizes.
Sometimes, specially in winters a no. of dozens. It is very hard for her, a fourteen year girl to reap the maizes from the claws of Geetamasi, Khantamasi and others who are daily dealers of the maizes.
It is raining for some days.
Summer is about to take a twist and the monsoon is arriving. The clouds are flocked with grayish floating clouds, winds blowing a bit irregularly. Tuli sat and waited.

Cars are passing in high speed. Two ambassadors lowered their speed towards her but passed in a hush.
Tuli knew it is expected.
Now it is just twelve. Now a hardly car stops.
It is generally in the afternoon after two that maizes are sold.
Tuli felt happy that the weather is rainy now, her sale would increase today, hardly people like to have maize in a scorching heat. But once it rains it is a different story.
Though Tuli has managed only twelve today.
How can she?
Her brother Taataa is ill today, she hardly had scope to reach the dealing place of the market early morning,when she reached only this dozen was remaining.
Taataa didn’t went to school today.
The fourteen year girl thought a bit.
She needs twenty rupees tomorrow for giving Taataa, the school fees are in defaulter for last three months, if tomorrow she didn’t pay Taataa would be thrown out from school.

A sharp wind swept throughout the Ruby bypass.
From the western front a big towering cloud is galloping.
Rain is about to begin.
Tuli’s frock started waving in the air.

Looking far Tuli found that the world around her has turned grey.
The sky, the houses, the green fields, the ponds, the walking people everything is grayish.

And within the next sweeping wind Tuli went away from present.
She shivered a bit.
She is afraid of clouds.
She is afraid of this dark colour.
The nightmare popped in front of her eyes. The day when her father, a hawker died in police lathi-charge, protesting against ‘Operation-Sunshine’ was dark like this.

One year later when her mother eloped with Kashida that was also same dark, grayish day. Tuli came running home from school and found her mother has gone.
Then the whole world changed for Tuli.
Her house went, they became homeless and ultimately she took shelter in a broken
unused house. Now also she is using that same house.
Where else she can go?

Another splash of wind and the rain began.
It was accompanied with a furious storm.
The whole bypass got hazy within seconds the potholes of the road soon filled up and overflowed, the pungent smell of the Dhapa swinged in the air, the clouds in the sky coming swimming in.
After half an hour Tuli left all hopes of selling the maizes.
Until the rain stops not a single car would stop.
And the rain signals no indication of stopping soon.
Tuli took all the maizes and returned home.

And she got alarmed to see that Taataa is shivering in the splashes of rain and wind.
Tuli tried to cover all the broken windows with newspapers but water is soon droving away everything.
Tuli touched Taataa.
Taataa has very high fever and he is groaning in pain.
Tuli got puzzled.
What would she do now?
The rain is still falling and not a single piece of maize is sold.
Tuli started giving strips off water over Taata’s forehead.
She changed it again and again.

It is around evening that the rain stopped.
And Tuli sensing that Taata’s fever has slightly decreased ran outside again with the maizes.
She needs medicine.
And that twenty ruppeees.
She have to sale this dozen maizes.
Anyway.
She came running towards her spot.
Gathered the burnt bricks.
And then kept the maizes with their layers open.


But she had no luck today.
For the next one hour not a single car stopped.
It was almost eight Tuli felt seeing the colour of the sky.
White clouds are sailing in the violet sky as an uncherished dream.
Tuli prayed again.
For selling the maizes.
She is becoming restless at the same time.
How is Taataa?
Will she ran for a moment and look on him?
But what about the medicine?
Without medicine how will Taataa spend the night?

Paradoxed Tuli wondered what to do as evening slowly slipped into night.
The weather is looking gloomy again.
Wind very silent.
Sky sliced with clouds.

And at that very moment an ambassador stopped and from it two persons jumped down.
One person took two maize in hand and asked ‘Kto?’(How much?)
‘Char taka babu’.(Four rupees)
The person looked towards another person anthey talked something within eyes.
Then the first person said ‘Sabgulo nile ktoi dibi?’(What is the cost of this dozen?)
‘Sabgulo nbe babu?’(You will take all?) Tuli asked almost in a voice of disbelief.

‘Ha’, the person smiled.
‘Bol ktoi dibi?’
‘50 taka babu’?(Fifty Ruppees)

And to Tuli’s wonder the person took out a fifty rupees noteand gave it in her hand.
The note trembled in her hand.
The person said, ‘Tbe toke pouche dite hbe.’(But you have to send it in a place)
‘Kothay?’ Tuli asked.
‘Ai samnei, tui garite uthe ae!’(Quite near, you come into the car)
Tuli shivered.
She know these languages, these looks,
Geetamasi always talk about these, about how she earns 100Rs a day sometimes!

‘Ki re chal’ The person came a bit forward.
A splash of wet wind struck.
Tuli thought for a moment of Taataa, his medicine, his school fees.
She needs money for everything.
The night is again filled with stitchy rainy winds.
The dark bypass has hardly any light.
Cars and trucks running in a hush.
The person hold Tuli’s hand, ‘Kire chal?’(Lets go)
Tuli once looked at the fifty rupee note.
Then she walked.
The person opened the door of the car.
Tuli stepped in.

After one hour when Tuli came back home her body is filled up numerous pains.
But still she ran towards Taataa.
Yes, Hec has again got high fever.
Taataa is unconscious.
Tuli soon gave her the medicine.


Outside it is again raining.
Tuli slowly lied over the floor and closed her eyes.
But she can’t.
She jumped up.
And sitting again looked towards the face of Taataa.
The colour is returning on the face.
Tuli went towards him and spreaded her hands over his hairs.
Beside Taataa lay his maths copy.
Tuli took it in her hand and opened it.
In all the pages there are right marks and comments written ‘Good’.
All the sums are right.
And in all the class test Taataa scored ten out of ten.

Tuli is going through the pages unconsciously, she is thinking of her own school days, she is also very dood in maths, she also scored full marks.

Suddenly Tuli felt a hand over her shoulder.
And she heard ‘ Ki dekchis re Didi?’(What you are seeing Sister?)
Taataa.
Tuli seeing Taataa coming in senses hugged him tightly
and said, ‘Kicu na re, kicu na!’(Nothing)
And then all her pains, came out as cry.
Tuli is crying, in one hand she is holding Taataa and in another hand his copy where Taataa has scored ten out of ten.


Outside rain is falling torrentially.
And through the innumerable cracks of this broken house waters are pouring heavily, from everywhere.
A drop of water failed on the sheet of paper.
She rubbed it.
Again another drop failed.
She closed her eyes and also the copy.
She did not want any spot in any sheet of this copy.
And also in the life of his little brother.
Taataa.



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