Along Came Bonny Meghali Barua
Related Articles
FREEDOM
(This was published in the Melange, The Sunday magazine of The Sentinel on 1st June, 2014)
The Jili insects were singing in unison….their loud ‘jirrr’- ‘jirr’ broke out from midst of the tall stalks of the rice field.
Bapukon, a nineteen year-old boy softly treaded towards the small clearing behind the school-house…….his obscure silhouette broken by the glow of spots of emerald-green cast by the hovering fireflies. As he reached the meeting-ground he could see that people were already sitting in circles, squatted on the mud field. Bapukon quietly sat down at the farthest spot as possible; he was still not sure of him being a part of such a congregation.
A squint-eyed man stood erect by the tall Ahot tree, his intense jet-black eyes burning through the melange of people.
The crowd sat on the field with bated breath as if they were all waiting for something momentous to happen.
The squint-eyed man cleared his throat self-importantly….a mild tremor escaped through the crowd. Suddenly he raised his voice, “Freedom…Freedom!”
A mad euphoria erupted among the people……they hooted and cheered like hypnotized spectators of an intense cricket-match.
“Quiet!” shouted the squint-eyed man.
He looked like a man possessed. He rambled on “Brothers and Sisters! The time has now come to free ourselves from the tyranny of the rascals! They call themselves the “government”! The Government! Eh!” He paused…
Taking the cue from the moment of silence the crowd tittered and hooted. Raising his hand towards the crowd, the squint- eyed man screamed, “The Government! They are nothing but rapists! Murderers!”
Bapukon sat in a trance-like posture, his very being was on fire.
This was his third meeting; his mother had no inkling yet that he had partaken in such covert meetings in the past. He felt as if these benevolent strangers had come down from the heavens to their tiny village, Tenga………a typical gaon guarding a multitude of secrets in its depths.
His unlettered mother didnot care for these things; a mound of rice to feed her family was all she cared about.
The squint-eyed man and his group had called themselves “Axomiya Mukti Bahini”, a name that had been on the lips of Bapukon and his mates for the past year.
The freedom-fighters have made solemn promises to look after their families…… “Brothers! Join us! Strengthen us! We will look after all your families like our own! Pledge your life for this noble cause….. The safety and security of your family will be our responsibility….. If you fraternize with us your families will have nothing to fear anymore. No one will be able to harm your families anymore! This is our promise!” the squint-eyed man vociferated, he was happy of the theatrical ambience he had built up., “Help your own Motherland! Our Ai wants our help! We will fight unto death! Our Mother! “
As the squint-eyed man harangued on, a near somnolescent Bapukon tried his best to stay awake.
His weary mind meandered off to that fateful day….a day which changed his entire life…..a horrifying nightmare he now has to relive every single day of his existence.
His hard-working father had been a common black-smith.
On one weekday he took a journey to Guwahati, a bustling city many a miles apart .He wanted buy some new wares and tools…….his old equipment had had become blunt and useless with the roll of times.
That dusky evening when he stepped into his own courtyard, ecstatic for he had bought new clothes for his family, two police constables from the Tenga Police Station were waiting for him.
Bapukon was only a gawk-eyed adolescent then when he had to witness his screaming father being hauled away from his own home……dragged away by the nape of his neck. He could still remember his mother’s blood- curdling screams when they found his father’s lifeless body near the swamp the following day.
“And what about Reba Pehi’s twelve year-old daughter” Bapukon thought silently.
Reba Pehi’s daughter had been a mere child when one dark, moonless night four army-men from the Indian Army had barged into Reba Pehi’s flimsy bamboo hut, kicking the cane door wide open.
Heavily intoxicated, they took Reba Pehi’s only daughter away after thrashing and beating Reba Pehi to a pulp till she collapsed on the mud floor, bleeding and inert like a lifeless corpse.
The little girl was found, like his father, the next day, raped and strangulated……her face bitten and mauled beyond recognition.
The indifferent police registered a case of “death-by-accident” and closed it without any further investigation. The rotting corpse, stiff with rigor mortis, lay in the morgue for several days and was unceremoniously sent back home when angry villagers started rounding up the police station.
Not wanting to fan the flames of the already volatile circumstances, the villagers advised a bedridden and a hapless Reba Pehi to forget and ‘move on’ from the grievous tragedy.
Horrific incidents analogous to that of his father’s or Reba Pehi daughter’s death were now a common occurrence. Every morning, the villagers would squat and gossip about how they made through alive the night earlier.
“The very government we line up to vote on the Election-day every year has failed to protect us….they have made a mockery of us……of our tears and pain” thought Bapu, his dark mood deepening
“We will not rest till our motherland is liberated from these Devil’s agents. Our Gandhiji wanted freedom for everyone…we will not rest till victory is ours! If needed we will take up guns and bombs!” a screeching voice intruded Bapukon’s train of thoughts.
A mild quiver passed through his body as he heard those words. He shook his gloomy thoughts away, forcing his mind to revert back to the present.
By then, people were getting up from their ‘seats’ and patting their backsides clean. Bapukon realized that the congregation was winding up.
“Oi Bapu! Going home?” a familiar face enquired.
Bapukon nodded, his head bobbing up and down.
“He is remarkable, isn’t he? Our leader has shown us this noble path. We will humiliate our land if we now shirk from our duties. We have to do what we are asked of….” the other boy looked at Bapu passionately.
“Hmm!” grunted Bapukom, a wee bit uncertain.
“I will be leaving with them next week. Will you be coming with us too?”,the boy looked at Bapu’s face expectantly.
Bapu didnot reply back.
Not averted, the boy continued, “We don’t know yet where our actual destination is but from what I have heard I think they will take us across Burma…….Isn’t that exciting? I have never even visited Guwahati and to think that I will be travelling to Burma…….it will be fun if you can come with us. There is nothing left here, Bapu! No land to farm, no pond to fish!”
Bapukon smiled, a bit amused at his friend’s blatant enthusiasm, “It is getting late! Maa will be waiting for me!” Bapu started his solitary walk home, his mind heavy with conflicting thoughts.
His rickety hut looked even more broken down from the spot where he stood silently……he was waiting to see if his mother was still awake.
Bapukon stealthily pulled down his khat and positioned it on the small verandah. His mother had left the kerosene lamp burning on the porch, bugs attracted by the warm yellow glow buzzed incessantly near it. An overwhelming desire to swat the bugs engulfed his senses.
He was about to close his weary eyes when his eyes fell upon his mother’s erect figure standing by the cane door, her eyes red and drowsy. “Toi ahili? Why were you watching a movie so late in the night?” she whispered.
Bapukon’s small brother was sleeping inside; his little snores escaping through the creaks of the bamboo-wall.
“There was no electricity in the village club-house. We had to wait to start the movie till the electricity came back…” Bapukon whispered back apologetically.
His mother’s eyes glittered in the moon-light, “Go off to sleep! It is getting quite late! ” admonishing Bapu, she shuffled back inside painfully…she had been weaving gamusas at her Tat-Xal the whole day.
Bapukon kept staring at the soft white moon….his sleep eluded him, like a nubile elusive lover. Finally Bapu could think no more, his mind became too tired to think. He closed his tired, puffy eyes and drifted off to a state of broken sleep…..visions of booming gunfire and putrid corpses flashed across his half-asleep, half-awake eyes.
The next morning Bapukon stood in his small courtyard splintering khori into small chips for the kitchen stove. The blade of his axe would at times glisten, catching the beams of the late-morning sun shining brightly up in the cobalt sky.
The rooster and his harem of hens straddled near Bapu clucking loudly, they seemed to be curious with the loud noise he was making. Every time his axe would fall on the fire-wood, they would cluck loudly and run away, flapping their wings frantically.
His mother stepped into the courtyard…….a hundred rupee note fluttered in her hand. “ Bapu! Go to the market! There is no rice…. Bring some cooking oil too!”
Taking the money from his mother’s outstretched hand Bapu said, “Let me first finish this work and then I will go to the village-haat. I will collect Xoru Bupa from his school on the way back.” Xoru Bupa was Bapukon’s eleven year old brother.
“Hmm! Hobo!” his mother walked towards the chicken-coop to see if any of the hens had laid a few fresh eggs.
Late in the afternoon Bapukon strolled leisurely towards the crowded village-haat.
Makeshift bamboo stalls had been set up far and wide across the market-area, the sellers were selling a horde of goodies. Vegetables like Lau,Kumura, Jika to kitchen utensils were on display……everything the typical Assamese agrarian village-folks would need .
Bapukon loved these marketing quests, it made him feel that he was a man of importance. The haggling routine with the sellers gave him a sense of power, a sense of harmless thrill.
Bapukon moved from one stall to another languidly, his cloth-sack bulging with fresh vegetables.
Suddenly he caught the glimpse of Kalita Khura, a constable from the Tenga Police Station. Bapukon stopped in his tracks…..his head started to pulsate with a cold fury.
“Murderer!” a bitter, murderous rage took hold of his mind. The mere sight of any man dressed in the khaki uniform was enough to drive him crazy…
Kalita Peha suddenly turned towards Bapu. “ Bapu! Bhal ne? How are you?” Kalita Peha smiled; blissfully unaware of the tempest he had created in Bapu’s mind.
Bapu nodded stiffly, his muscular hands clenched tightly on the tattered cloth-bag, his nail digging deeply painfully into his palms.
Nodding politely, Kalita Khura strolled past him, his protruding belly straining against the fabric of his khaki shirt.
Bapu kept staring at the retreating figure, his mind now resolved. “I am going to Burma! I will make these murderers cry blood! I will free us of these infidels!”
That night, Bapu and Xoru Bupa sat, on the mud-caked floor of the kitchen, ravenous with hunger….their stomachs rumbling and crying out for food. Their bony faces were pale; tinged by the yellow light cast by the bright kerosene lamp.
Xoru Bupa proudly was displaying his skillful masquerade of the village school-teacher; both the brothers giggled playfully….their worries forgotten for the time being.
Smiling, their mother brought in a plate of rice and dail, a curry of boiled yellow lentils.
Bapu and his brother always ate from the same plate…..the heavy brass plate belonged to Bapu’s father.
His mother sat at a distance, the cane hand-fan moving to and fro in her hand. Her enigmatic eyes fell upon her two sons, her mind several leagues away.
“Maa! Toi nakhao? You won’t eat?” Bapu asked all of a sudden, realizing that his mother had not touched a single morsel. His mother was jolted out of her reverie, she shook her head.
“I will eat later…..Finish your meal, Bapu” her eyes looked soft
“Bapu! I have to say something.”her voice was tremulous
“What?” asked Bapu, his mouth stuffed with boiled rice. His mother looked towards her feet, her hands rubbing her ankles. “Ko! Say it!” said a disconcerted Bapu.
“Bapu! I think I will go to Guwahati. There is a rich couple who wants a nanny for their new-born baby. They are going to pay two thousand rupees a month.”
“WHAT?” Bapu almost screamed, his face contorted with fury.
“Bapu! I have decided…..You will take care of Xoru Bupa and work here in the village. I will work in Guwahati and send in the money.”
Xoru Bupa started to wail, “Maa! Toi amak eri jabi neki? Are you going to leave us?” He got up and ran to his mother’s side.
“No! No! I am not leaving you. I will be gone only for a few days. When I come back I will bring you lots of new clothes and toys” said Bapu’s mother, her eyes brimming with salty tears, her rough hands fondling Xoru Bupa’s soft black hair. Xoru Bupa whimpered, his face hidden in his mother’s chador.
Caressing Xoru Bupa’s head, she pleads “Believe me, Bapu! I would not have taken up this job if things would have been better here. These are turbulent times! Let me go first and then I will send for you both. We cannot live in this village anymore…..”
Her bosom heaved up and down with conflicting emotions.
With a finality she spoke, her voice harsh, “ Bapu! I have lost my husband and now I am not going to lose you too. These goons…..These militant people keep on taking innocent boys and girls away from our gaon , luring them with false promises. I will not be able to bear if someday somebody forces you to join such terrorist groups. Life is too short…..Whatever is left, we have to make the most of it.”
She looked into Bapukon’s eyes, her eyes now hiding pool of fathomless emotions.
“Before making this decision did you even think of asking me? What about me? Do you ever think about me?” asked Bapu vehemently, his words laced with bitterness.
Bapu’s mother looked wounded by his words; Bapu could not help but avert his eyes towards the figure of his wailing young brother.
“I have thought about you. I know what you want, Bapu! I am your mother. And….this is the most important reason why we have to leave this place. This place have seen too many deaths, I am not going to witness the death of my eldest son. Not before I die….”
Bapu bit his tongue a trifle hard, the sour taste of his own blood mingled with his spit. Not trusting himself to speak, Bapukon got up and went outside.
“I have always tried to be a good son. If this is what Maa wants, so be it…I cannot hurt her anymore” a contrite Bapikon thought silently as he pulled his cot down, he had not wanted to hurt his mother’s feelings. His chin was wobbling, Bapu closed his eyes.
Suddenly his heart lurched; he could feel the familiar touch of his mother’s hands on his head, gently ruffling his hair. Bapu felt as if he had reached utopia at his mother’s touch, his flaming anger subsided like a gigantic tidal wave receding as swiftly as it has risen.
After a long pregnant silence, Bapu spoke quietly, “Do not worry, Maa. I will do as you say. I will look after Xoru Bupa. You go with peace in your heart. We will wait for you here, in your own home and hearth, till you decide what you want us to do.”
Bapu turned on his khat to face his mother, he held his mother’s trembling hand gently.
Bapu’s mother eyes gleamed in the moon-light, her emotions naked in her silent tears. Without another word, she rose from Bapu’s cot and went inside to sleep beside her younger son,
“Xoru Bupa is too little to understand all this. As soon as I settle myself in Guwahati I will send for Bapu and Xoru. I will give them a very different life, a life free of fear and death. They have lost their childhood too soon…” she thought, her mind bleak and distraught.
Two days later, one bleak morning, Bapu walked beside his mother to the bus-stop…….two silent figures, their minds trapped in their own web of thoughts. Bapu’s mother was leaving for Guwahati that very day to work for an unknown family, to protect her own family’s survival.
As they reached the small bus-stop by the national highway, Bapu’s mother took out a tiny cloth bundle. “ Bapu! Take this! There is some money inside…..This will take care of things till I send more money from Guwahati.”
Bapu took the money from his mother’s hand wordlessly.
Drawing a thick cloud of smoke behind, the Guwahati-bound bus screeched to a stop a few feet away. Mother and son looked at each other, both stifling their emotions in the depth of their hearts.
Bapu bent and touched his mother’s feet clad in torn sandals. He could feel his mother’s hand trembling as she placed them on Bapu’s head to bestow her unspoken blessings.
The bus-driver, impatient to start his long journey, tooted the horn twice. Startled, Bapu’s mother quickly got on the bus. With a loud swish, the bus-conductor closed the door and the bus rambled on.
For a long time Bapu stood looking towards the highway. Suddenly he felt very desolate……he felt as if he and Xoru Bupa had become orphans overnight.
Silently, Bapu treaded back to his little hut.
Xoru Bupa was lost in a deep slumber when Bapukon and their mother had walked down to the bus-stop in the wee hours of the morning, Bapu remembered. Praying a silent prayer, he peeped inside the tiny hut.
To his utter relief, he could see the tiny form of his still –sleeping brother, curved into a small round ball.
Bapukon smiled, “I am here Xoru Bupa. From today I will take care of you….This is my promise, Xoru Bupa”, Bapu whispered.
Over the hills and far away, a vast multitude of people were gathered near a burning wreck near the edge of the highway. People from the nearby village had assembled around the flaming mess…..at a loss at the gory sight beholding their unbelieving eyes.
A mad commotion prevailed…..
Half-crazed people were running amok carrying sheets of cloth while others were scurrying wildly carrying buckets of water.
A few of the good Samaritans slipped on the wet, broken road in their mad hurry…..water from the buckets had spilled over making the road slimy. Coal-black smoke was rising from the wreck.
A morbid stench of burnt bodies and hair had seeped into the engulfing air…….just like the smoke rising out of a funeral pyre.
It was the bus ferrying Bapu’s mother to Guwahati; to her new place of work, to her new lease of life…..
Two or three corpses lay on the edge of the burning skeleton of the bus, their faces burnt beyond recognition.
The villagers amassed around the site of disaster ran frantically; their wild screams permeating the air. Some of them stood a few meters apart, shell-shocked and disbelief written on their twisted faces.
A few were pulling their hair apart, screaming their lungs out. People could hear the cackle of bodies burning inside; a mad sense of despair had descended onto the hapless crowd.
At a distance, a squint-eyed man stood by; a silent phantom watching the burning ruin.
An ambulance-van was advancing from the opposite direction, its horn blaring loudly.
Wordlessly he got into a car with black-tinted windows.
He nodded to his companion, “We did it! God is on our side!” he hissed in jubilation, his eyes blazed like a man possessed by a sinister, primordial force. The driver of the car honked the horn loudly scattering the gathered sea of people; driving away invisible amidst the escalating madness.
