"A Story Unfinished"

"A Story Unfinished" by Kalyan Ghosh

A winter afternoon. It just started drizzling. Our adventure was in the mid-way. It was all quite, except the threat of dark cloud for heavy shower. Constant perseverance by five of us to complete the proceeding fast for the success of the expedition 'hang them down'. Out of five, three came down to the street, under the house adjacant to a waste-water flowing drain. None of us beyond 12 years then. I am not taking anyone's name, their first letters only A, R, C, N and me. A and R operating from the 2nd floor window of 'S', from whose house the operation was on for hanging the bundles in his absence. N, C and me were on the street to catch the droppings. 'A' whispered from the window "catch them carefully. Don't drop in to the drain." "Dinu's father looking from their terrace". I cautioned them. "He only looks, can't see. Both his eyes are cataract affected." instant reply from 'A'. 'N' "carry on fast, fast." 'N' and C" extended their little hands. I was watchful whether anybody around. The old books, papers, magazines, whatever paper materials available to augment weight were tied up with a fillet, suppoted by a long tying string tilted from the 2nd floor window dangling like a pendulum, half way down to the street. Ultimate result of any unlawful act had to be woeful perhaps. That's what happened. Sudden roaring of thunder and lightening baffled the poor catchers on the road to prevent the pendent from diving in to the gutter. Dirty fatid water sprinkled and soaked the protectors. 'A' and 'R' giggled from the window. The expedition 'hang them down' partially failed. Greed for hot 'telebhaja (fried in oil) from the front open hut of bald headed Kanduri Sahu disappeared. 'N' stincking with the wet cloths, hugging half soaked books tight washed them by street tap water, soaking it further, we rushed togather to the nearby grocery for sale to get some amount for the hot 'telebhaja'. Grocer's suspicious look made us nervous. "Where from you have brought these ....it is wet and stincking !" Five pale faces looked at each other. "You may pay as per wish.We won't bargain." Instant fumbling reply by 'R' was not convincing at all. "No, no you take away. I am not keeping them in my shop. Customers will complain." "Any amount you pay. Don't force us to carry back so much weight again to the same place." We requested together. "Nothing ! Go away with your stincking stock. I woun't pay anything for this lot." Grocer gradually raised his voice. After much persuation, gave us few coins, which was enough for us to get sufficient telebhaja those days. By the time we returned from the grocery heavy downpower began, and continued for quite some time. Kanduri Sahu's mouth watering telebhaja was appropriate for the weather. We were so happy that day. Enjoyed rain water, esspecially 'N' who could clean up his stincking cloths. It was late fifties. We were in Cuttack, a small town, once the capital of Odisha, where the first part of my life, perhaps the best part spent. It is more than fifty years now, as if it all happened yesterday only. The grand view of river Kathjori, a cosy park on the bank of the river, extending its beauty with full of flower trees, from where we used to pilfer flowers in the early morning of Saraswati and Ganesh Puja days. It was named as Ladies Park, but percentage of gents were always more than the lady visitors. A faraway railway bridge look so amazing when a train passes slowly and go out of sight leaving the stretched black smoke to say good bye. During rain when Kathjori swells up with flood water we rush to see the alarming river likely to be the cause for unfateful devastation in Cuttack, as rumour usually spread like fire every time when river rise above the danger mark. So exciting and eventful were those days ! A huge play ground Sunshine field, where the first lessons of football, cricket, volleyball, kabaddi etc were taught and played. Film shows were arranged on the field at times by the Field Publicity Dept. I have seen many Hindi films here with my friends. "Raja Harishchandra', 'Jagriti', 'Kundan' are some of them. I will never forget 'Jagriti', it was so good. Whenever a big white screen was placed on the field, we were so delighted and run early to get the front row on the ground for better viewing. We were so comfortable on the ground stretching our legs as per wish, spreading hands back front or sidewise and enjoying film show free of cost. No seat arrangement except only one for the operator with the projector. Every time operator changing film roll there was a break of 5 minutes. Either we used to go for open toilet or move around the 'chanachurwala' without a single pie in our pockets. Out side snacks were restricted for us. Movies not allowed in cinema hall, except few selected ones,that too accompanied by parents only. Fathers busy with their jobs. Mothers remained occupied with the household routine works. No TV, no mobile, no computer those days. Radio, cinema were only means of entertainment. Hot and crispy 'telebhaja'was cheap and afordable. But where is paisa! So such master plans were contemplated at times to satisfy the lust of tongue. S, A, R, C, N and me were neighbours, just few steps from each other's houses. Our main joint was 'S's house, where we usually, rather regularly met for simple adda. No sleep in the afternoon even after mother's strict instructions. Usually after lunch we used to rush to 'S's house. Carrom, table tennis, 'lukochuri'(hide and seek) were the main indoor games played. Melodious tune of afternoon street hawkers 'kulfi malai', 'fuchka', 'dahi ke bade', 'mithaiwala' fascinated us. We ran out to see them at least, no matter we got them or not. We all were in different schools, but our only chatting school was 'S's place. No option to cinema those days, which was the only major entertainment when we were gradually growing up to teens. No pocket money to spend at our wish. Even then we had to somehow arrange or manage for the first day first show of each and every Hindi movie, sitting on the front row, head upward. Tickets though eight anas (fifty paise) for the front row, had to be arranged with so much thrill and excitement, but enjoyment was sholo ana (hundred paise). There were so few cars and cycle-rikshaws around, that we were not scared of playing cricket on the street, making way occasionally for a rikshaw or cycle. 'Guli-danda' and 'kata' were commonly played local games on the streets of cuttack we used to play, apart from kite flying on the roof tops, at Sunshine field or sands of river Kathajori. I still don't remember when exactly I had to hold the cricket bat for hitting out a six punishing the tennis ball to reach the roof top of the house near the Sunshine field. So far I remember It was a Ganesh puja day when all local schools celebrating their own ways. That six for a moment made me the India team player. What a feeling ! When I took a wicket with my devastating pace bowling, again with not better than a tennis ball, I compared myself with Hall of West Indies. Raised my T-shirt colar with the big applause of my co-players on the Sunshine field. Suddenly a big applause on TV broke my sweet nostalgia. Applause for a four by Sachin Tendulkar playing his 200th Test against West Indies in wankhede stadium at Mumbai, his home town. My nostalgia had taken me back to my little home town Cuttack for a while, I shall be visiting after a long gap. A shocking dismissal followed by a standing ovation to the little master for his farewell knock of 74 runs. The news of dismissal of my trip to Cuttack added to my misery. Switched off TV and got up. "What the hell is this ?" I shouted at my causin who was supposed to arrnge tickets from the travel agent. I was so upset to know this ! ‌ "Why are you shouting at him." My wife stood in his defence. "If tickets not available even from the travel agent, how is he to be blamed ?" "No, when I have decided to go I will go some how. If not by train by our car even." My wife looked amazed. "You had been there this Durga puja and spent more than a week." "So what? I would like to spent rest of my life there. I told you several times. You don't pay any importance to my wish. Let me go alone, if you are not willing. Don't forget, that is your home town too." She kept quite for sometime, then said "you will be there alone ? Are you jocking ! Who will lookafter you ? After retirement you have lost your balance of mind ! Plan in advance and go next year. Except few you have no friends, no relatives there now. They are all out of Cuttack. One in Canada, two in America, one in Raipur, rest of your childhood friends sold out their houses and settled in Kolkata. No one maintains communication. Who else is there you want to visit so frequently ? You are not a youngman now. Movement should be restricted as a senior citizen of your age. What is left so important there now ?" "My past". An instant reply came out, perhaps not obtaining my concent even. Next day I reached Cuttack by road. Spent a couple of days there. The house of 'S' , a mute witness of our childhood mischiefs still there to make me smile for a while. Sunshine field is there as it was, calling us to resume play as todays children have no time for the ground evading their routine home work and other curriculars. The ladies park is nomore, but a sweet frgrance of same old flowers I never missed. The railway bridge over the river Kathjori seen so clear even today. A train with steam engine leaving thick black smoke passing slowly with the same sound of engine and long whistle. When the train was half way on the bridge, I realised it is a new train with diesel engine making a different sound. It was early morning. Same old sun rising from the east with a new light. I turned to return home. Saw my wife from a distance coming towards me. She came closer. Looked at my face and said, "I have accepted your proposal to settle here finally." I smiled. "We will go back to Kolkata tomorrow." A long whistle of the diesel train heard from distance.

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