Writing a story

Writing a story seemed so easy to me at those time when I had no time to write them. The writer's block, the tough deadlines for deliverable, the tough situations at the better sides of a family life made me very indifferent to others. The scene which is telling a million words and can be captured in a photograph, cannot say the million words untold, but your story can.

After going through my previously written stories, it seems to me that, I have tried to testify my taste in writing in many many different styles but, writing the story has become more and more difficult as time has passed. The regularity of keeping this blog posted with new stories became a pain with no gain. Or rather I thought that the appraised comments is what I deserved. Again the appraisers wanted to console me all the time to come up with good stories powered up with better style each time.

Altogether I left this pain behind and stopped writing in this blog since a long long time ago. So, I was happy writing the stories in my mind and reading them back to me all the time. I thought of writing in Bengali, rather than in English as I should have been more confident and more conversant with Bengali than English. I bought a long copy an year ago, to write down the stories but that day never came.

I am still planning to write some words at least on the copy I bought. Some friends suggested me to write poems at least, as I used to write at my school days. Some well wishers wanted me to start writing stories in Bengali. The inner selfish self of mine said me to refrain from writing, rather enjoy the life as it comes to me.

Still, I shall try to write something in this blog as well as my year old copy in near future. That may or may not sound like a story at all but that will tell some untold words of mine some day.

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Mother

The lights are dim. The curtains are pulled around her, as if to restrict others to know about the conspiracy. The husband is waiting on the other side of the curtain. She is waiting helplessly, her legs are resting helplessly on the stirrups. The same old process will be repeated, as is being repeated for the last two years. The doctor will put the manhood shaped device between her legs and the pain will begin again.


The doctor will try to relax her, saying good words of reliance, this will not be painful, soon you will be fertile, etc. while she will struggle to stay calm and quite and bear the same pain she is bearing again and again for the last two years. At last in unbearable pain and frustration she will start yelling and tears will continuously drop down her cheeks. This artificial insemination process had left bruises inside her womanhood, and everlasting bruises and wounds in her mind.

She cannot be a normal mother. Not again, after such a long period of time. She has enjoyed the motherhood after giving birth to her first child, their child, but the unwanted one. She can still recall the very night. It was raining outside. Thunderbolts were heard again and again. The power went off. The hotel generator started after four five minutes. Those very four five minutes were so precious for her. The smell of his chest where she was resting in peace for those four five minutes are unforgettable still. The warmth of his body and the width of his manly chest felt like a huge tree, under which she found the shelter for herself, for that night, for her life, for eternity. She never felt anything different in the heartbeat of that man, different from a man she could trust. The heartbeats never said the untold words of the man to her ears, not to trust him, not to let her become a mother, an unwanted mother.

It was again after those nine months uncertain life, she became the single mother of the girl. She named her on their names,Ebha, though, he was no more with her. He left. As an invader he had stolen the precious purity of the un-smelt flower, the untouched body of the holy earthen icon of trust and felt the pure love of the girl of twenty. He had ravaged her time and again knowingly though she never knew, until he left with the stolen wealth with him, leaving her poorer than the poorest, living on others mercies with the unwanted child.

Life could not pass by in this way. As her parents and relatives were searching for a suitable match after all these happened to her, she needed to break free. Free and independent in her life, to start enjoying her life again. A new life, a family, a small shelter of trust that she really needed.

She opposed a lot. Her family, her neighbors, her elders, no one was with her when she started living with the girl child of her, her own child, a piece of soul emerged from herself. Yet again, she became helpless. Everybody wanted her to be independent. Independence came to her for the price of leaving the child of three months, in front of the cage of the Baboons in the zoo. That too, on 15th of August, the independence day.

Still she was determined. Determined to live her life like any other average Indian woman, with her husband in their new family. She tried her best to become a good wife heading the family towards prosperity and wealth, though inside her, she kenw, she was not well. While grief and deep sighs became her best friends in solitaire, the family members of the in-laws became her worst enemies. Not that they didn't like her, but they wanted something out from her. Not giving any importance to her beauty and brains, like a child production mechanism, as treated by numerous families in the world, she was being treated by the in-laws as someone, who lacks something in that production mechanism. They tried to get a child again, a legal heir of their son, their brother, their beloved one. They persuaded him, her husband, to understand the importance of having their own child. The child who will bring the family the desired pleasure and security in future, being more important than the aging woman the mother is. The husband became so convinced after this long pursuance that he is now ready to extreme extent to get the child out of her, for the child will be his own child, his future.

Finally she is here lying helplessly on the stirrups, while the husband, waiting for the terrorizing doctor to put the semen artificially in her to get a child from her, so that he can take the child away and claim the child to be his, not her's. Time and again the husband and the doctors are trying but she is resisting this to happen, and will continue resisting.

Hat's off to her, she is like the Mother India. She is great.


Entry for Mera Bharat Mahaan contest by BlogAdda Sponsored by Pringoo.com

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The Left Winger

The whole crowd is roaring now again in the expectation of an equalizer. Some are blowing their Horns, a slightly modified version of the renowned Vuvuzela. Sweat is running down his body, his forehead. He is running fanatically towards the opponents penalty box along the left wing. A good center can create a real good chance to score as two strikers of his team is also accompanying him in this counter attack.

*******
The day before this finals of the renowned "Gostha Pal Memorial Tournament" was not a very smooth evening for him. He was resting after the last practice match with some of the team members when Shibu Bhowmik, the team manger call for him. With a gaping smile he entered into the chamber of the team manager. Their coach Anata Roy was sitting beside the manager. Shibu Bhaowmik started the discussion.



"You are not playing in tomorrows match. We have someone in your place.You know Kaushik, who plays for 'Tallygaunge Agragami'? He is going to be the left winger this time."

Manojit was dumbstruck at this. He was so shocked, that he could not say a single word. With a blank face, he looked at the team coach. He is one of the most successful players in the team, who contributed significantly so that team has finally reached the finals, and now he is not going to play. He could not believe his ears. A fear is gripping him on his throat, choking it so badly that he cannot breath.

This time, like every time, renowned star players and coaches of "Division A" clubs of Kolkata will keep an eye on the players from the finals. "Gostha Pal Memorial Tournament" is actually the chance for many budding struggling players to reach to their destined fortune of better and more secured lives as footballers. Most of the footballers dream is to become a regular player of the "Division A" clubs in Kolkata, so that they may secure some Government job and at least feed their family well. Very few of them really dream of being a great footballer some day.

Actually, the budding skilled footballers are mostly from the middle economy class or lower economy class families, who struggle everyday in every walks of lives to reach the playground from different corners of Kolkata and suburbs. To reach to their dreams to become a good footballer some day with a better standard of living. Most of them loose the battle to poverty and financial scarcity and leave football to earn the bread for the family. Many of them loose for the lack of enough nutritious food at home and eventually being too weak to fight this battle of energy and power. Many of them get addicted to different addictions like smoking or chewing tobacco and finally looses their carrier as footballers, while many of them become scapegoats of the team as they are replaced with "renowned" hired players from better teams.

"See Manojit, we cannot take chances. We are playing on 4-2-4 and want to break the defense from the left side of the opponent. We have replaced not only you but also replaced the two center forwards. It's wining, that matters now, isn't it?" Anata Roy, their coach added.

Manojit stared at him with a blank face again. He still cannot believe what is happening right now. Ananta Da (Elder brother), the same Ananta, who used to motivate him the most is saying such words. The same Ananta Da, who started to feed him with the two eggs daily which Manojit could not afford from his family of two brothers and one sister powered by his mother's widower pension of 3000 INR (60 $ almost) and his own earning of around 600 INR (12 $ almost) a month as an electrician.

Manojit's eye's became smokey. He still couldn't utter a single word, for he understood, there is no point in arguing, no point in asking question. With the left out energy he lifted himself from the chair and headed towards the exit.

"But, you will be playing as an extra tomorrow and we need your best".

The last words of Ananta sounded much like a solace rather than assurance.

Manojit came out of the club and went back to the other team members.When Manojit told them that he is going to be one extra player tomorrow, there was mixed reaction from them.

"At least you are not out of the team. You may get a chance sometime", some of his team members tried to encourage him. While some of them, being more frustrated after thrown out of the team totally for the finals were a bit relieved hearing what happened to Manojit. "We are the steps of the stairs, you know. We have brought the team to the finals now, so we are no more required." they said.

Manojit is around twenty two. If this time he misses the chance to prove himself in the team, he is going to loose the chance to be in a "Division A" team for ever. Manojit got really nervous.

Finally Ananta Da was free. He called Manojit.

"I have nothing to do. I am really helpless. Shibu Da is our employer, your, mine. I cannot go beyond his orders. Still, I know if you get a chance, you can prove yourself. Stay ready."

Manojit remained speechless.

*******

In the first half both the teams attempted to score but they were fruitless attempts. At the beginning of the second half the opponent opened a chance and scored, mostly because of a fault from the new defender hired from some good team.

Around ten minutes later, their team got a chance to score. The new left winger Kaushik, did a nice center and receiving the ball by the right leg the new center forward tried a shot with his left. The goal keeper saved the goal just in time.

There is only thirty minutes left to the game, when there is a serious foul by one of the defenders of the opponent team. Kaushik, the left winger became seriously injured. An yellow card was shown and Kaushik had to be taken out of the field.

"Fight the battle now, it is your chance." Ananta patted on Maojit's shoulder. "Fight it out."

Manojit got the most desired chance of his life. May it be a little late still better than never. In the rest thirty minutes, he can have a good chance to prove himself.

Opponent team is better enough to keep the ball control to them most of the time and this time the whole opponent team is creating a strong pressure on their half. A sudden pass from one of the defenders of their team and Manojit started the counter attack. He started running fanatically with the ball along the left wing. Two of the forwards of his team understood that this could be the best possible time for the equalizer. They started to run towards the opponents goal too. But the defenders of the opponent team are very good. They are also regular "A" division players. One of them caught up Manojit and tried the same old trick of sliding tackle pointing to Manojit's leg.

Manojit, knew that this is going to happen. He jumped over the defender's leg avoiding the rough tackle. People around are roaring in expectation. The goalkeeper has taken position at the left side bar of the goal to narrow the angle, he is running forward to narrow the angle farther for Manojit. But, Manojit just passed the ball with a clean center towards the right forward of their team and goal, this is the equalizer.

*******

Now only five minutes to the extra time. Both team are at one goal each. Manojit again is running for the ball. He just received it . He is running again towards the opponents goal. Just crossed the mid field. Three of the defenders are running towards him. This time they will not miss Manojit, and Manojit doesn't stand a chance to escape. The right winger is running to in the line and the two center forwards are inside the penalty box area. The whole opponent team defense is present near the penalty box to stop them to score.

"When you can see the way to the goal posts and the goal keeper is not on the line of your vision, try to shoot, you may score." Ananta Da told him some day. In practice matches Manojit tried this twice, and once he even succeeded. "If you think this is the last chance, then take the chance yourself." He recalled another line of Anata Da, he recalled some excellent goals scored in the world cup by "Diego FORLAN" of Uruguay, one of his favorite players.

He can see the net of the goal post now. The three defenders are now closing in, and though he cannot beat them, he can view the open net of the goal post over their shoulders. The goal keeper is not on the line. Manojit also can hear a voice shouting over the prolonged roar of the people. He can hear Anata calling for him.

"Maar Mano Maar". (Shoot now Manojit, shoot.)

No second thought came in his mind, picking the ball with the right leg, he made a volley it towards the goal with his left foot.

As if the time got stopped, the three defenders approaching him have stopped and the other players are looking at the ball. The goal keeper at the right bar post is watching helplessly while the ball, like a cannon-ball entered into the net.

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Still Loving You

I am walking towards that door, the very door I like to walk on this very night. The streets are half lit in gloomy shadowed lights coming down from the palatial high rise buildings, built centuries back. The ghosts are everywhere around me, some are whispering in my ears to taste the forbidden fruits infested with insects from hell. The blue dark shadowed windows of the palaces are hiding the courteous female spirits while the ghosts are inviting me towards the unresisting, obscene, formidable sins that head to the point of no return. The streets are smelling that of sweat, blood and melting meat loafs from the rotten mortals who are turning into or turned into ghosts. Being a human being in this ghost infested hell is tough, really tough, if not impossible.

I entered through the door, climbed down the circular staircase towards hell. This hell is beautifully decorated with glistening glasses and mirrors that reflect the misshapen faces of the ghosts. The reddish light coming from the ovens , where some more spirits are being burnt and baked into deliciousness, and bottles full of blood and gold and venom are being served to all. The lady spirits are dancing with their counterparts in a recklessness and the loud music in this dim lit smoky air will certainly make you half dizzy, half psychic, half ghost, if you are still alive.

I took a corner seat reserved for me, being a well known ghost to the king of this hell, I am here to enjoy my night with the spirits I like. I opted for a golden spirit, in a hourglass shaped glass. I want to burn myself in these ovens, just like to be fried into delicacy, into immortal pleasure of dying. I unloaded the whole drink from the glass in my throat. The spirit tried to ravage my throat with it's immense hatred towards the mortals but with pleasant sooth ness to this dead throat of mine. I am feeling better now, hinted towards the ghost to pour me the spirit time and again.

The music died down, the female spirit, who was hinting towards me to taste some of her surprises lost her patience and left slowly. The ghost, that was serving me has also become tired of me. He has put the whole bottle of spirit in front of me, just to help myself towards my end. I am eagerly trying to meet my end either to finish this immortal cursed life to oblivion, to meet you in the next life, my love, my first crush.

Even now I can see your smiling face in front of me, sitting just beside me , dressed in the same white school dress, holding my hand, to help me get up on my wasted feet and head towards the circular staircase of this hell, through the darkness to dawn. You have become someone else's, but I haven't lost you, specially on this very day of your marriage anniversary. The stabbing pain in my heart cannot steal my sweet memories of you. The ugliest thoughts I can think about you, cannot turn me jealous towards the lucky man, whom I have lost you, as you have chosen that destiny. You are the angel of my life, saving me through each of the unforgiving blows from life, until death. Your sweet voice heard, is always murmuring in my ears to save me from all the evils. Your best wishes on the torn letters written long back, are still lying with me, to guide me through every hell on earth, towards heaven. For, I am still loving you.

*** Entry for http://blog.blogadda.com/2010/06/09/first-crush-stories-blogs

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BlogAdda "who dunnit" Mystery contest

With reference to the BlogAdda WhoDunnit Mystery contest at (http://blog.blogadda.com/2010/05/12/a-mystery-fiction-contest-whodunnit).

I continued to think, just like Hercule Poirot may have thought in this situation. I started arranging the clues together. Slowly something started oozing up from my mind.

Both were looking the same, with their identical white outfits. No one can tell who was who other than the bullet-pendant Lila was wearing.

Of course the mis-shapen beads on the floor of the bathroom shows, the bead necklace was hurriedly pulled off from her neck. But, I haven't seen her wearing that all the time, rather Sia was wearing the bead necklace.
The mangled arm-band must have been removed in hurry.
And the open bejeweled case is where I got stuck for sometime, must be something precious, very precious for her. May be the pendant with the bullet or the arm-band.
The cup of tea she offered me was kept beside the bed on a stool just on the way to the bathroom, beside the only chair I sat.

I have started perspiring I can figure out something, something so terribly frightening, I am loosing my breath.

The crumpled scarf beneath the pillow is the weapon of murder. It must had been soaked with liquid HCN that killed Sia, the identical twin sister of Lila.

Lila had put the scarf on her face. She started struggling, the arm-band fell down, mangled. I can still recall when I have last saw Lila, she was not wearing the band.

Sia struggled towards the bed, on the way must have knocked down the cup.

Then Lila must have kept the scarf under the pillow, and reached for the bejeweled case of the cabinet to get the band. She took out the bead necklace and put her bullet pendant on the then dead Sia's neck, for that is how we could have recognized Lila.

But why had she needed to open the case? Oh, must be the identical band Sia was wearing that night. And of course the other bullet necklace.

My heart is pounding faster than ever, Lila is not murdered. She cannot be killed. When Sia came out of the room, it was actually Lila.

She went off and came back through the back door and entered the bathroom. Hurried to take out the bead necklace from her neck, but unfortunately it was torn. That's why the stray mis-shapen beads on the floor of the bathroom.

Then she came out of the room again as herself wearing the second necklace, but after committing such a task she looked withdrawn and anxious.

The ancestral property of more than a hundred crore will totally be her now, in a new facade of Sia. Now she can do the extremely costly required treatment of the "virus" (and it's curable now) and also live a rather happy life Sia lived.

I need to tell it to the police and others, immediately.

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Bachhor Suru (The New Year)

*****
Though it is a separate story, it is actually the sequel of my previous post, so, would recommend readers to read that first! Thanks!
*****
Being the morning of the Bengali New Year, the shopkeepers will have to go to their nearest temple to get their new budget book marked with holy signs written on them. This is the special day for the shop keepers to start a new year according to the Bengali ritual "Haal Khata", the beginning of the financial year. On this very day, there is a puja of God Ganesha and Goddess Laxmi, for the betterment of one's business and the shopkeepers generally arrange a treat of sweets and beverages for their regular customers, specially for those, who pay back the debt's on this very day. They also presents the customers with a new Calendar of the Bengali year.

Malati works as a housemaid in the homes of such two shopkeepers. So, she had to leave early today, even before her husband Sajal and their daughter Sunita woke up. When she was about to leave, Sunita got up and sat beside her. She was going to say something but Malati put a finger on her lips to keep Sunita remain silent. She hurriedly instructed something to Sunita, her six year old daughter and headed towards the door of their one roomed shanty.


It's his dream place. Just as his wife dreamt for days. They have a small hut near the big pond of their's. The pond reflects the trees around it, mainly his favorite mango trees and jack fruit trees, also the coconut trees they have planted. Green mangoes are hanging from the mango tree while dark green young jack fruits are hanging down the jack fruit tree, here and there. He is sitting beside the pond with a fishing rod in his hand. The fishing rod has no wheel. He can see a far and wide distance from here. A vision too far towards the horizon where the river has moved lazily touching their village on her go. A fresh breeze oozing up from the heart of the river flowing through the green paddy filled fields towards their sweet home, soothing him to the deepest corner of his heart. Sunita, their only daughter is sitting beside him for a long time, waiting for a fish to gulp the bait and to get the fish hunting live. She lost her patience, came near to him. Put her small soft hand on his forehead. He cannot control himself, he is feeling dizzy and suddenly the there is a pull on the fishing rod. He hurried to pull it, but it's too late, too late to catch it, it's gone.

Sunita is very happy today as she received a very unexpected frock for her new year's day from her father. The frock looked nice in her eyes. It has a white body with blue stars inscribed in it, and the skirt is glistening with blue lace ribbons. She is so overwhelmed with joy that she started brushing his father's hair softly with her small soft hand, which she never does, for she fears her father, even if he is sleeping.

Sajal woke up. This is not a normal phenomenon. He never dreams, specially this kind of a sweet dream, and of course he is a bit astonished to find Sunita sitting beside him. He felt overjoyed, the day, he recalled is the first day of the Bengali year, the Naba Barsha (New year). He also recalled that he is on leave today. He slowly got up in a half sitting condition.

Looking at her beautiful dreamy eyes and her skinny structure in the old yellow colored white patched frock, and her velvety black curly hair bunched up over her head in a pony tail, he smiled to himself. No, she is not much different from the dream of his, only, she was wearing a nice dazzling white colored frock, with blue stars inscribed in it, just like the one he has bought for her last night.

"Ki vabcho?" (What are you thinking?") She asked.
"Nothing? Where is your mother?"
"She is out to work. Oho! I forgot. She has told me to give you the glass of water she kept for you, immediately after you get up." Like a scared rabbit she ran towards the kitchen of their one roomed shanty.
Malati is right, Sunita is growing up, really fast.
"Now take this papa", Sunita said bringing a glass of water towards him.

Sajal took the glass from her hand and started drinking the water. This is water with lemon juice. Just the best one can afford to get out of the hang over for last night's drinking.

"Baba eta kine enecho? Eta amar? Tumi enecho?" ("Dad, you have bought that for me? You have bought?") The young lady asked him. She could not belive her eyes. All the good thing she has been offered in her life is from her mother and when ever she wanted to be a bit closer to her father, her mother opposed. She has a developed impression in this young age of seven that, her father is of no good.

"Yes dear. This is for you. Do you like this?"
"Yes. It's so cute", she answered. And then tried to say something but controlled herself.
Sajal noticed that.
"Are you trying to say something more?" He enquired.
"No, no, nothing!" Sunita hurried towards the kitchen again.
"Don't go dear, tell me what's wrong." He said.

Sunita came back in an alarmed face. He fears her father. Her drunken father, who, sometimes, beats her mother. Her mother weeps! Her mother get bruises on her back, arms, sometimes on her cheek. He generally comes back home at a time when she is asleep. He never teaches her when she is studying. He never takes them away from this place, as some of the fathers of her friends in school do. He rarely caress her or kisses her. But still, with her small weakened heart of six years, with the least developed human brain to take up all the complexities of this cruel world, with the best possible courage she can gather in herself, she asked her father the questions that goes on and on, in her mind all the time.

"Papa, why do you beat my mother? Why don't you come back early? Why do you drink?"
And then, suddenly realizing the consequences of her inquisitiveness, she uttered.
"Please papa, don't beat me. I am too small to bear that! Please don't hurt me. I won't ask you such questions anymore."

Sajal is shocked. He just couldn't believe his ears, neither could believe his eyes. The little child, whom he thought, he loved more than anything in this whole world is actually scared off him. His frustration has become endless and all his frustration about losing jobs, not getting proper jobs, loosing his ancestral properties to his relatives, loosing the faith in his wife, loosing the self confidence of getting out of this hell ever, seemed much smaller than this one. The little lady, who has come to their world to enlighten their lives with fresh hope and zeal to live again, for a real good cause. The little one with whom he was happy for so many days when he took her home, spent nights after night sleeplessly to bring her up, fears her? Hates her? He just could not take it any more. Though Sunita struggled to get away from him, he grabbed her, embraced her, put her near to his heart.

"No dear. No. Please don't misunderstand me. Your papa is not that bad, papa will teach you. Papa will not beat mom and will leave drinking. Papa will take you away to the village of mom's dream. I shall never beat you my dear. Please forgive me."

Tears started rolling from both the father's and daughter's eyes, as if cleansing the stain from their long stained relationship.

The new day of the year for them has been a different one but may be their unfulfilled dreams be fulfilled if he can keep his promises for his family. Who knows?

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Bachor Sesh (End of the year)

It is late at night. No passers by can be seen on the alley and the lying street dogs are the only witness. He is drunk today. He is getting back home a little late. As late as he could. Almost running though the half-dark alley towards their home. It's not a home for him. Rather the house made with the semi masonry structure, the tin roof and a small veranda with the only room they have can better be called a shanty.

He has got his salary as the security guard at a nearby residential flat just two days back. He has even bought a new frock for their daughter, Sunita, today. Today was the ending of the stock clearance reduction sale going on in the preparation of the Bengali new year, the Naba Barsha. He actually love to be with his family. He starts every day with a very cool mind, but whenever his friends mention that when he is not around for some days, Malati, his wife, sales herself, he cannot stay away from boozing. If it would have happened so that he can prove something against Malati, he could have been happy. That makes him more maddened more frustrated, and in place of keeping trust on Malati, he always tries to find out a way, to catch her red handed.

Even today before he boozed, he planned to purchase something for Malati. And suddenly came the thought of Malati waiting for her customer, as the girls near the Kalighat bridge (a nearby red light area) do, he rejected that thought. He felt a sudden urge to drink again. "Khanki Saali (Bitch), the day I catch you read handed, I shall murder you.", he thought.

Malati works at the nearby residential flats. She is the main earning member of their family. Sajal was never ever a good and honest man in his life. He has lost many jobs and has started a fresh from the beginning of a new job sometimes after returning from his short terms in jail. Most of the time he was punished in petty cases of drinking and gambling. Malati being at the age of twenty seven and mother of their single child, still looks young and good looking. Younger than many other slum dwellers of her age, and good looking because she maintains her looks. She always heard from her relatives that she was actually from a good family around two generations back. Fleeing from Bangladesh, staying in this slum for twenty years has taught her a lot to accommodate herself against all odds of this life. She nowadays earn much more than Sajal, and tries to drive her family in a best possible manner she can. She sends their daughter to school, even planning to teach her dancing and wants to settle down at a far village from this city full of ominous poisonous people she regularly faces.

Other than her income as a cook and housemaid in different families of the nearby flats, she could have started some secret works parallel. Many of the house maids leaving by them have started these earning though some crooked manner. Malati even was approached by some of them. She always has stayed more arrogant more tough in her mind to fight out these odds. She cannot sale herself in that way to a customer, who will like to purchase her body for his carnal pleasures for some hours. The more she thought about that the more her dreams of staying with their daughter in a village house budded in her mind. In a far away place from Kolkata, where her known relatives live. A village as shown in the Bengali movies, she watches. She and her daughter, and Sajal. Well, if he insists, Sajal can stay, but in that case he will have to leave his bad habits, specially boozing and beating her.

Tonight, Malati has bought a new sari for her and a new frock for their daughter. She even managed to buy small half sleeved kurta for her husband. After all, this is the time when the shop keepers bestows people with their long awaited clearance sale for the year. The last of the Bengali year is the last day of this clearance sale. The next day being the Nababarsha, new year's day.

Sajal entered the room with the packet of frock in his hand. He at first was going to gladly hand it over to Malati, then, recalling the same scene, he just thrown it at a corner of the room.
"What is in it?" Malati enquired.
"None of your business." Sajal replied harshly. "It's something for Sunita."
"So, how much has it cost you?".
"That also not your concern." Sajal replied. "It's my hard earned money."
"Your money counts to our money. You are not supposed to waste all you get as salary on a single evening."
"Why? Can I not buy my daughter something? Why?"
"Because we need to save money. Have you ever thought, how we will live for betterment? To get out of this hell some day? Have you ever dreamt of this? Do you ever thought of your family? What they will eat, what they will wear? No. You waste your money, my hard earned money for drinking that dog pee every night." Malati barked back.
"I shall do whatever I shall think good. If you don't like to stay, leave immediately. Get out right now. I drink on my money, not on your nasty money."
"Is it? Whose property is this? This room is mine. Go get lost. You can't throw me out, I shall."
"Shut up. You bitch. You play around with men to get us money, you whore. Don't say another word, or I shall bit you up."
"Don't you know, your daughter is getting older now? Don't you know how to behave? Who said you such things? I am pure like Sati and Sabitri." (Sati and Sabitri are two famous mythological characters, famous for their honesty and loyalty to their husbands.)
"You behave yourself, you bloody whore. I have bought this from my honest income not from selling myself as you do. Say a single more word and I shall show what I can do."
"Do you think you can? Touch me right now. Show me the man you are. You nasty filthy pig. Your mind is full of shit."

In general, this regular quarreling leads to beating of Malati, sometimes it turns into a savage sexual encounter between them, but today the quarreling became louder over time. While all the other dwellers feel asleep being exhausted from their daily labors and daily habits, they carried on their quarrel for some time. Then Malati went to bed with her asleep daughter, while Sajal slept at the veranda outside.

This is how the last day of the Bengali year for a unknown lower class couple in Kolkata, ended.

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Sorry ! Can't be regular in writing.

I am very sorry to let you know my dear readers, that, I can't be regular to post new stories in this blog.

Also, the long story I planned about a mishap at the "Cyclone" Roller-coaster ride in the Nicco Park, a nearby amusement park at Salt Lake Sector V, Kolkata, cannot be continued by me right now.

So I am planning to drop the long story and come back again with the short stories at my own convenient time.

I regret the unexpected decision made by me and will try to write the second part of the long story in future. Meanwhile, please skip the story "Cyclone" and read my older short stories.

Thanking you all.

With regards,
Shankha

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Cyclone (The ride)

There he is. Sitting on the end of the corridor waiting for her. He is dressed in his blue denim and white full sleeve T-shirt as he generally likes to wear on the off days, when they meet at the stipulated places, be it City Center, Salt Lake, or Mani Square Mall or the RDB Bulevard. He is also wearing a leather jacket for fighting the sharp sting of cold at this last week of January. He is different. He is the real man. Tall, smart, handsome and very witty. He is gorgeous. He is her's. That very feeling gives her a shudder somewhere inside her heart. Is he really hers? Will he be her's? Who knows.

He generally comes with Ronit. Ronit is a shy kind of a boy with brilliant big eyes behind his high power glasses.

She goes with Meghna. The girl, she thinks her best friend.

Meghna is not as good looking as she is. She is a bit fatter and shorter than her. Meghna was not her first choice though as she is much more intelligent and studious than she is. But, she didn't have other options. Meghna is dependable. At least about him. For, she knows, he loves her looks, not Meghna's.
So, where are we planning to move today? she enquired.
We are going to face the 'Cyclone'. he answered in short.
Ah! Cyclone, when where? In Kolkata? But this is winter. No chance of any wether hazard has been heard by her. She wondered, may be these guys know. She looked back at Meghna. She is chuckling. What so funny about a storm such as Cyclone, she thought.

Taxi! They entered into taxi and he told something to the cab driver. The cab started running.

'Give me some sunshine, give me some...', the new ring tone set by Swapnil reminded him about his immediate duty. No office today, he must meet Manisha. Things are not going good between themselves. Swapnil knows that he is not going to marry right now. At least not until his job gets settled at the new company he has joined. They have to wait till the things get settled. Manisha is a bit conservative girl and not a believer of pre-marital sex, not even in a less harmful manner, as it is common at any park at Kolkata. She has become furious after they have returned from Digha, the nearest beach resort. She is the one who fixed up this venue today. To decide the future of this relationship. What a place indeed. How will they discuss their future in such a crowded place? God knows and Manisha must be knowing, may be she is trying to draw an end to this. Swapnil left his sit, picked up the phone.


'Hi mom!'
'Yes dear. What's up?'
'Sir is not going to teach today. He has some other assignments in hand.'
'So, come back by the next bus'. Paroma insist.
'No mom. We have a plan for today.'
'Plan. What plan? Are you not coming back? I am cooking a special dish for you. You may bring Rishi and Mallika if you like.'
Paroma frowned. Will they come back right now? Even if it will take around thirty minutes to come back, what is she going to cook for them? Sima, her helping hand in daily works has just left. What she will do?
'No mom. We are not coming back. We are planning to have a little fun together and will come back before lunch.'
Well, the little girl has grown up. Paroma thought. She always used to come back in the name of good food from school. Paroma sighed.
'So, may I know where are you people going?'
'To face the Cyclone mom, and don't ask me anything else.'

Why on earth they have planned to go there? Nice place, nice rides, but Cyclone, what if. These words always come to her mind nowadays. Paroma felt that she is getting older. She has no office today, she has nothing important to do at this moment. She started going through the 'Femina' and continued thinking about the same 'what-if-buts', after all Tina is only fifteen.

Finally they are at 'Nicco Park', the biggest amusement park in the eastern India, a pride of Kolkata.

'So, now you know where the Cyclone is going to happen?' He asked timidly.
'No, not still now.' She answered. She has actually been frustrated. She could not imagine that they are heading towards Nicco Park as long as the cab not stopped. She has been here with her friends a couple of years ago. She hates the rides, specially the higher ones.

'It's the Cyclone ride. The roller-coaster ride in the park.' Meghna added.
'This is a wooden-roller coaster. With approximately 17 meters(55 feet) height and 750 meters (820 yards) long track, this is most probably the biggest wooden roller-coaster in Asia.' Ronit clarified.
'And that means I am not riding, you people enjoy your ride, leave me alone. I would go home.' Srija argued frustratingly.
'No way dear. You, on the other day, boasted that you know no fear.' Saunak replied. We all are in.

They headed for the ticket counter at the gate.

Tina and her friends reached for the toy train at first. This is a cool free ride that let the visitor have a glance of all the rides from outside. Today is pretty cool in the daytime. They all are using their scarf and caps on. Still the stinging wind passing by made them feel line pinching at their bones.

'So, this is the right place to talk you think? Swapnil asked as soon as they entered. This is a hell lot of crowded place, we could have gone to Nalban instead', he argued.
'Don't yell at me like that, or I shall get away right now.'
'OK, let's have coffee then. I am feeling pretty cold.'

Swapnil and Manisha took their seats at the food park.

A group of four young college students to the nearby seats. We all know them by now. They are Srija, Saunak, Ronit and Meghna. They are nearly end of their argument. They all want to give it a shot, even Srija.

'It will be great when he will be their beside her. I can grasp his strong hands and can depend upon him totally. After all, I am going to depend him for a very long time, in future.' she thought.
'So, you are my partner today.' Ronit asked meghna.
'No other choice.' Meghna giggled.

Tina, Rishi, Mallika and Srijib are now on the queue. They are going to ride the 'Merry Go Round'. That is Tina's favorite till her childhood. She suddenly started recalling those old days. Her father used to take her to different fairs just to let her ride the 'Merry Go Round'. She used to go round and round and round and used to look back to her parents time and again. Such a happy family they had. Tina felt that some teardrops are rolling down her chicks. Suddenly, se got conscious and wiped off before anyone could see.
'Why are feeling so bad? What went wrong?' Srijib asked.
'No, nothing.' Tina replied in short. Srijib is keeping a careful eye on her, she felt.

'So, are you not going to marry me?'
'This is the question you have asked a hundred times during the past few days. What's wrong with you? You know my job is new.'
'See, my parents are not going to wait for eternity. I am a school teacher. I cannot fool around with you all the time like this.'
'You are the one who have chosen such a public place full of school children around us. We could have arranged it somewhere else.'
'No. I want you to face the world say it loudly to me and the people around that we are going to get married. It is our fourth year and we cannot carry on celebrating our first meeting date each coming year. Rather I shall prefer to know the end of it. Yes or no. You can tell me frankly, I have saved some money for us, even I can arrange some loans on my behalf. Tell me if you are going to marry me or not. Right now. In front of everyone.'
'See, don't be silly. You know my condition. I am going to sale the flat dad owned. I shall have to pay off all the lenders, then only I can settle.'
'OK, you pay the lenders, I lend you money to marry. Let's not finish our love this way, of course, if it still exists.'
Yes it exists. After all these years. After the 'Digha' trip, the lonely room, the double bed and a not so wanted pre-marital sex, it still exists. Swapnil knows that, Manisha is her woman. The only lady he can depend upon in this heartless, hopeless, penniless situation. The only thing he needs is a bit of time. Suddenly Swapnil got a brain wave. He stood up finishing his coffee.
'What?' asked Manisha.
'Manisha, you want me to tell it to you if I love you or not and we are going to marry or not to all these people around? OK, I shall do that and for sure will shout it out. Please come with me.'
'Where? Are you planning to go out so early?' It must be a trick she thought. She must have hurt Swapnil. He has the prejudice of walking on his own. Till the day they met, she has noticed that and that is the best part she likes in Swapnil. He never takes help, specially monetary help from anyone. He has a real wide shoulder and a very brave heart to face his situations, specially after his father's death.

May be she is nagging too much, Manisha thought. Actually, she is getting frustrated about her situation. A fellow teacher of the junior-high school she teaches, is taking interest in her nowadays. Her parents are also trying to arrange something from their end. Her aunt is pressing hard to persuade her to leave Swapnil and opt for someone else she knows. It's a total hazardous condition. Though she is saying a firm 'no' each time, sometimes she also loosing faith on Swapnil. That 'Digha' trip shouldn't have happened, she thought. She is 28 now, when will she grow up.

After the queue for tickets they are now standing on the staircase which takes them to the landing platform of the 'Cyclone'. Meghna has ridden this once. She loved that ride. She sat on the fourth two seater coach of the eight coach coaster train. She enjoyed every bit of bit specially the first big fall that transfers the static energy to kinetic energy and lets the whole train move fast on the rails, without any power supply while it moves. She loved the view at the tallest spot, from where the whole area was clearly visible. The nearby lakes looked beautiful.

Ronit is not very confident about the ride. He never tried it before. He looked a bit helpless. Though it is his joint plan for the ride, the cold wind pinching on his face making him more nervous. He looked at Srija. She definitely be enjoying the ride. Specially with Sounak to help her, hold her and listen her. He could be there he thought. In his lone moments of weakness he has grown a very soft corner for Srija in his heart, and may be some envy for his dearest friend Sounak.

Rishi is not confident about the Cyclone either. His girl friend Mallika loves it, so he has to come, unless he would have avoided this queue to ride the high roller-coaster. He just don't like the height.
Srijib pat Tina on her shoulder. 'You will like this shot he said. I have rode this before. Nice view and the drops are excellent. And it takes only 2-3 minutes.'
'But I am feeling really cold.' Tina said. Can we not wait and try the other ride.
'It will be hot! You won't feel anything once you start to fall. And that's really fun,' Mallika explained.

Swapnil and Manisha just reached the landing station. There is a wooden fence, regulated by a gate keeper. Only sixteen people are allowed at a time.

There is huge noise on the tin shaded roof of the landing station. A train just entering the braking region. That will be their train.

*** Will come back with the second part very soon. ***

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Independence Day (Swadhinata Dibas)

Today is 14th August. A very significant day for Pakistan and India. "The midnight's children", according to Salman Rushdie. The midnight they were freed and became foes for ever. Like all other independence day, from 14th August the country is on red alert for terrorist activities, specially after the massacre at Mumbai lately.

"What's there in your bag Mr.?" the policeman stopped Tridiv on the entrance of Rashbehari metro (tube rail) station. The metro station is at the southern part of Kolkata, near the famous Kalighat Temple at Kolkata and named after famous patriot of India. This afternoon the rush is heavy for the metro as the daily passengers and office goers are returning home and tomorrow is independence day, a holiday. The police is on red alert at Kolkata as well. Their are several policemen in front of each gate of the metro station.



He was ready for this kind of question. "Laptop", he answered.
The policeman looked around to his colleague, "Can we allow this?" he enquired.
The other policeman looked through a chart of allowed items in his hand. Then he firmly said "No, we cannot allow this."
Tridiv knew that laptop is allowed, only a formal checking is required. He has travelled with his laptop, each time he had to go home. He tried to convince them.
"Look, sir, this is a harmless computer. My office is nearby. I need to go home at Siliguri. Please sir. I regularly travel with this."
"No, we cannot allow laptops, CDs, DVDs, etc." the first policeman told Tridiv, you better hire a taxi, if you are in hurry.
"Sir, please, Tridiv tried again, please check my bag thoroughly. This is my ID Card, see." He shown them the Identification Card of his company.
"I need to hurry. Sir, please let me in", he requested again to the policemen.
The second policeman felt a little convinced. He took the bag from Tridiv's hand. "OK, let us check", he looked around the first one.

People are hurrying home. There is a long queue in front of the ticket counters. Tridiv stood in front of one after around 30 persons in the queue. His home town is at Siliguri, at the farthest north of West Bengal, and is a 12 hours bus journey from Kolkata. Already four five people are in the queue behind him. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey you, what's in your bag?" asked the policeman. The guy is of heavy build. The hand on his shoulder felt very heavy to Tridiv. "Come with me", the policeman said. No way he can get the next metro, Tridiv thought, looking helplessly at the queue, Tridiv left the queue and followed the policeman to a table. An officer on duty is sitting there with two other policemen with him.

"What are you carrying in there?" the big policeman asked. "Laptop sir. I carry...", Tridiv continued with his story. The people are passing by. Some of them are staring suspiciously, as if Tridiv has stolen something.
"The story is good. But Mr. Roy, we cannot leave you now. Not by the metro at least. You are supposed to leave this station immediately." said the officer. We have strict instructions.
"Sir, please, I need to hurry, unless, i shall not get a reservation at the bus. You know sir." Please let me travel for this time. I shall never travel with the laptop in metro again.
"See, young man, the government is in search of some terrorists reported to be here in Kolkata. We are just doing our duties. I can well understand your problem. I am also from Cooch Behar, a nearby district of yours and you know it is farther a distance to travel than Siliguri, your place. Still, I cannot help."
"Well sir,you must be familiar with the laptops." Tridiv tried desperately. "I can show this in operation. I am not carrying anything dangerous."
The officer though something in his mind, and then told, "OK, I can do one favor, you can keep your laptop with us, for expert checkup. I am issuing a receipt to you. When you get back, collect the laptop from this metro station only."
"But, sir, I am supposed to go through the code in this weekend, for the web site I am coding for", he said. "You know sir, how the private company jobs are. If you don't work on weekends, you may loose your job very soon."
Now the officer became a bit disappointed, he firmly said, "See, you have two clear options, either leave the laptop with us and go home, or you may go out of the metro station right now. Which one do you want to follow?"
Tridiv thought for a moment, then said, "Sir, will you please do me one more favor?"
"What?" the officer became impatient.
"Please arrange me a ticket to Esplanade sir, I have lost significant time and missed two trains."
"OK. Sunil, please buy a ticket for him." he ordered the healthy policeman who pulled him from the queue."Meanwhile, Mr. Bhadra, please arrange the receipt. We are allowing him."

They told that he will get the call. The phone rang again, again and again. Tridiv looked at it eagerly. He is sweating. He was waiting for the call for a long time. He tried at least fifty times but the number was not working. The mobile was switched off. He took the phone. Mausumi was on the line. "Talk to Smita", she said, "we are free now." They didn't do any harm to us".

A deep sigh of relief came out of Tridiv. He could not help it. They kidnapped his wife and daughter. The same gang who kidnapped him three days back. Forced him to implant the plastic explosive under the battery cover of the laptop. Who rehearsed the whole drama again and again till Tridiv can not think any longer. They were always behind him. They always followed each and every step of him, at least as long as he becomes a criminal by himself.

The bomb blast will kill hundreds of people. He has to kill hundreds of helpless people to save his family. His life is at stake, his career is ruined. But he loves his daughter more than anything on earth. He loves his wife dearly. He can take any chance. Do absolutely anything to save them. Now, only chance is, all the policemen who knew that the laptop was his, are already dead.

Is there a chance of him to get away with this at all? Even if he is not tracked by anyone for some time, sooner or later, the CID or CBI or Anti Terrorist Squad or any damn policeman will track him down successfully. And his wife? His relatives? They will automatically know that, he is the criminal. He is the one, responsible for the Kolkata bomb blast. His wife and daughter will be hated for what he did. He will be hanged to death, but his family will suffer for ever. He has not saved them. He has ruined everything. He has spoilt there lives as well.

Tridiv felt that a cold grip of terror is starting to choke his throat. He wanted to shout. He felt like dying. He wanted to apologize to all the people passing by, all the souls of the dead people he killed. He wanted to apologize to his daughter, his wife, his old parents, his close relatives, to his friends, to everyone he knew, to forgive him. Forgive him for not being brave enough to die. To suicide, before killing all those people, directly or indirectly. To forgive him not to sacrifice his own life on the day of independence of the country he lives, his family lives, his ancestors lived.

Tridiv woke up. He is sweating. His throat is dry like a desert. The nightmare is over. It is 7 AM on the 15th August. The sun is as bright as it can be. He is at his home place at Kolkata, with Mausumi and Smita. They are still sleeping beside him. Nobody is dead, not at least this time. Kolkata is saved, India is saved. No incidence of blood shading on the independence day.

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Steps on stairs (Sirite Pa)

Five more floors to go. Only five more. Each of the floors can be reached by twenty steps on the stairs. Ten of them and he can get to the landing. A few seconds, a few steps and a little rest in climbing. He can stop there for few seconds if he likes, but then need to climb the rest few stairs to reach the next floor. It is around 1:00 PM now. He never mistakes the time. During the long experience in his work, he never looked at the clock. He never wear a watch either. Or, better said, not wear a watch when there is no special occasion, for the work he does, the wrist watch cannot be worn on his wrist.

He is concentrating on the stairs. The stairs are already a bit slippery for the sand and dust on them. The stairs are pretty wide. Three four men like him can ride them at a time. He is panting a bit. Panting due to the restlessness, the lack of air, and the tremendous humidity, normal in Kolkata in these days.


There is rain sometimes, but in the month of June, the humidity reaches it's maximum. The weather is cloudy, air is heavy and hot. As hot as 38 degree Celsius. May be it seems so hot as he is working for long. May because he is feeling hungry like hell. May be because he need to breath some air, need some rest, need a few puffs on his favourite handmade Indian cigarette, known as "biri". Ah! If he could stop now for a while, he thought in himself. Unknowingly he argued against the thought, he is not supposed to think like this. He is not allowed to, he is a worker, in work, and need to finish the work in due time.


He has just crossed the sixth floor. This is his last trip. After this, he will go down to the basement, where they report every morning to the supervisor. The supervisor will take his thumb impression. He will get the pay for today, and will have his lunch. He has will have lunch at a temporary canteen made for them near the construction venue. Rice, dal, one vegetarian dish made of potatoes, brinjals, etc. a piece of onion, two green chillies.He is feeling the crave for that food rapidly growing in him. He doesn't like that food very much but that is all he can afford here. After having his lunch, he will get back home. His wife cooks rice in the evening. They will eat some at night and will keep some in water for the next morning. Early morning, he eats this wet rice with salt, some hot dishes cooked early by his wife and daughter and comes to his work.

He is around 50 years in age. He is not supposed to work here according to the supervisor, as it takes to much of physical labour for a man of his age. He requested, argued and finally got the work. He needs this work as the payment is much better than the normal works he does. As this work continues longer than the works he get locally. As he can earn enough from this work to save some more for his two daughters, one of them is going to be married very soon when the other has been already married.

Seventh floor has been reached. He is in full concentration on the steps. But, he is getting distracted sometimes. His son-in-law has gone to Kerala, a place far from West Bengal, almost 2000 Km. away. He earns better money there. He wanted to take his father-in-law with him, but he didn't agree. The money may be high, but he need to stay with his family. He opted to come to sector V instead. The software tecnology park, where new high rises are being built and for him, the pay is much better than his locality. He is a masonry supply worker, the kind of people who supplies the required materials to the brick layerers. He also knows how to prepare the mortar with cement and sand and water. He knows, how to bind the racks for masonry workers to seat on and work on a tall building. All these things he has learnt from his childhood. All these years he is working for his family. He never talk to the other workers much. They think that, he is a thinker. Well, he thinks but not as a thinker. He never argues with anyone about the present political issues, nor he comaplints about the wage he is receiving and the ratio of work and wage. He never be there in the union meetings and always try to avoid all kinds of controversy.

Only thing he belive about his life is, he is a poor man. And, like other men, he needs to work for the people he is responsible for. Sometimes, only when, in special occasions, he drinks and become a thinker. At those times he finds his life to be screwed up top to bottom and he cannot change his life.

"Nobody can change his life, his fate", he thought. "It's fate, it's God, it's the destiny. The day we born, it has been written on our forehead. No one can change that, however he tries." A deep sigh came out of him. He is feeling really exhausted, as he is crossing the ninth floor and heading towards the tenth. He need to climb the rest of the steps to reach up to the eleventh floor. There the other guy is waiting for him to carry the bag of cement to the sixteenth floor. The work is there at the sixteenth floor. The building is almost finished, so the cranes have been removed from the building. Only way to carry things up to that height is the lift. The two working lifts are meant for the people working in different offices in this building. They are very sophisticated people, so the lifts, in no way can be used for carrying the building materials. So only way it can be done is with the labours, the supply workers.

The man is sweating like anything. The bag has become heavier than ever. With is burning stomach for food, he is feeling a tremendous head ache as well. He is nearing to the tenth floor.

His legs have started trembling. The lack of water in his body due to the continuous sweating for the last one hour has made him weak. He is panting heavily. His eyes are feeling like popping out. It seems that he cannot make it to the eleventh floor. If he can call loudly, the guy at the eleventh floor may come down to help him. He doesn't want anyone to help. No one will help him to carry the load he has in his life, no one ever can. However uneven the war of life may become sometime, he cannot just wait and loose. This is his war, he needs to fight till the end.

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Prayer (Prarthana)

Ting Ting Ting. The wall clock said it is 3 AM at night. Sudip got up from bed. The bedroom is a bit enlightened from the street light. The curtains are removed from the only window open. There is a continuos buzzing sound outside. It is still raining. The heat wave is a bit reduced with the advent of the monsoons. Sudip felt cold. He got down cautiously from the bed, cautious enough not to disturb anyone. Lowered the speed of the ceiling fan and then looked back at the her wife Sonali and daughter Sunetra. They are fast asleep.


This has been a very tough day for Sonali. The housemaid didn't come today. All day she had to look after every possible household works by herself. She had to cook as well like everyday. Sudip loves food and he loves food cooked by Sonali more than any other food. Sunetra is only three. She looks like a little fairy nowadays. Sonali is good looking, Sudip is more than average. Suntra has received the best looks from both of them. She has thrown away the bed sheet aside. Sudip thought of go in again and put it in place, as it is a bit cold today. Then he paused, slowly got out of the room.

Sudip took out a bootle of water from the top of their refrigerator and entered the kitchen. The window of the kitchen is half closed. A sudden gush of moist wind jumped inside the kitchen. He once thought of closing the windows, at least in the bedroom, but recalled Sonali doesn't like that. "It feels so suffocating. I cannot sleep this way", she always complain except in winter. Sudip drank few sips of water from the bottle. He put that down and try to search for the match box in the cell. It's not there. He gets out of the kitchen to switch on the light.Getting the match box and head towards the other bed room through the dining cum living room.

Sudip has his desktop in this room. This room is smaller than the master bed room in this two bedroom flat they have purchased the last summer. This flat is at Patuli, a very convenient location in the newly built area at south Kolkata. He can easily reach his office at sector V at Salt Lake and can get back within half an hour or so at night. Sudip took out the packet of cigarette from the drawer of the computer table, lit one and sat on the bed. Here also a window has been kept half opened by Sonali. "Gods need air too." She told with a muse when Sudip asked about shutting all the windows. "But my PC!" "Gods will save it, she replied". "You see, gods will save my computer", repeated Sunetra. She always try to keep copying what her mother said. That's how people learn to talk, that's why a language becomes the "Mother's Tongue". The little lady, she always says everything to be her. The other day she was lookig at a car with great concentration. "That's my car" she said. "It's not your's for it is not ours. Everything me and your mom have is yours" corrected Sudip.

"Gods will save everything. My PC, my family and Sonali?" Sudip wondered. The rain must have been stopped. In this room is there is a large picture of Goddess Kali, the goddess who is widely worshiped by Hindu community specially Bengali people. Also one of Lord Ganesha. The God of knowledge with elephant's head. In two other medium sized frames there are pictures of Lord Krishna and Goddess Durga. In a corner self, specially created on Sonali's demand there are several small framed pictures and small statues other God and Goddesses. Sonali worships regularly. Sudip is not a believer. He sometimes had arguments with Sonali about keeping so many pictures of Gods. "This room looks like a average villagers room. These pictures better be kept at the home place. Sometimes my friends come here, and the pictures are so embarrassing. Can we not keep some of them at the bed room?" "No, you can't. In bedroom, the pictures of Gods should not be there according to Bastu Shastra - the Indian home science. We have photos of ours in the dining cum living room".

The cigarette is burning slowly to ash. Sudip canot think steadily. He has gone through vary tough situations throughout his life. He has built up his own fortune from the day he started living with his uncle after his father's death. He later found that his mother could not care for him as she got married and settled very soon after his father's death. All the time of these disturbances, he never prayed to God. A hatred towards this unknown force drive his life in a determination to win out his adversities. He became atheist. The man who has married his mother didn't allow Sudip to live with them. Sudip went to a residential school at 6. Almost at the end of his studies in a college at Kolkata, he lost his mother as well. He was left alone, he remained alone. Even after all these evil happened to his life, Sudip steadily studied in his college to shine in his life. He was really a good student and very soon after he passed out with a Master of Computer Application from his university, he got a job. Again, he had shown to his uncle, aunt, cousin sister, all known relatives and everybody around that he is not lost. He can win without the God between him and his success, even if life gets measurable.

Sonali came in his life like a cool breeze. After his marriage with Sonali, he brought things started to get settled for the last seven years. Now they are happily married couple, trying to build the future of their daughter with good education and other learning facilities. But can Sudip keep everything smooth running if Sonali won't stay with her? He lit another cigarette. No, he cannot bear this. He loves his wife than anything else in this world. She has been the turning point of his damned life. Life has become a bit smooth sailing for him from the day Sonali joined hands with him. After Sunetra's entry life feels like heaven even after the regular tremendous workload, tension and frustration at workplace. And now he is standing at an uncertain corner of life where this golden dream built by them is going to get shattered into thousands of small pieces.

He understood that he is not going to sleep, no way. He slept his sleep for this night. He is not going to office tomorrow, for he is going to tell Sonali and her parents about the truth. The truth, that Dr. Anirban Ghosh has let him know in the evening. Her cancer test has been found positive. The pain in her stomach is no more an average illness. Immediate treatment in a very sophisticated institution with cancer cell only may help her. Sonali will have to undergo a hell lot of pain to fight out this uneven battle. Even her Gods cannot help her or are they the only help for her to win? Or will she loose and Sudip with Sunetra will be lost?

Ting! Another sound of the wall clock let Sudip know it is 3:30 AM. The highway is slowly waking up. Some vehicles have started moving. The sound of rain has been stopped totally. He heard a dog howling from far away. As if the dog is crying. Sudip felt a burning sensation in his eyes. Looking towards the pictures of the Gods and Goddesses, he started weeping unknowingly and started to murmur, "If you are there, please help her. I don't believe in you but she does. She worships you regularly. Please let her beliefs come true. Please listen to her prayers." Tears started rolling from his eyes.

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Wind (Haoa)

The bus was running in medium speed. It had no hurry to reach it's destination. It is a bus from the CSTC (Calcutta, now Kolkata State Transport Corporation). This is a medium aged bus. At the most four years old, and the seats inside are arranged for the CSTC long distance service buses. So, it was a converted city bus. Earlier may be it used to run to a destination of 200KM or more, whereas it runs for 10-15KM per trip through the city.

It is a summer morning. Though it is around 9AM in the morning, the environment of the city is pretty hot. The traffic is medium, though the bus is full, like all other buses in Kolkata. No seat was left while as many as 40 people are standing inside this 52 seats bus. People were suffocating inside as the wind is not passing through the windows and is there is no cool breeze, only hot gust coming through the opened door and windows of the bus.

The conductor of this bus is wearing a dust-colored full sleeve shirt on a khaki trousers. That is the uniform of the government bus workers in whole India. While just like the private ran buses, the conductor is carrying a bag of tickets and money, and repeatedly asking the passengers to purchase their tickets. Some of the passengers are listening to his appeal for buying the tickets and paying, while others are just ignoring him.

Madhumita was going towards the south of Kolkata to her aunt's place at Behala to meet them. She has purchased her tickets and was looking out of the window of the running bus. She likes to look at the hoardings for advertisements. Though it has pretty restricted in Kolkata to put hoarding, banner, etc. some hoardings are still there with different advertisements. There are several big hoardings of the political party candidates, who are going to compete in the forthcoming Parliamentary Election. There are three main political parties standing in this election from West Bengal, the state of which, Kolkata is the capital. The ruling party alliance, the main opposition with an alliance and a third party which doesn't have much influence in this state. The ruling party is ruling for nearly 32 years continuously, when the main opposition has done the successful alliance with the other oppositions for the first time in history.

"OK, OK, now stop here." The bus conductor shouted to the bus driver. The bus suddenly stopped.
"What happened man? Why have you stopped?" asked the man in check shirt, who was standing just beside Madhumita.

"Yes, yes, why, why?" queries started coming from other passengers sitting and standing in the bus.
"Well, there is some problem with the left front wheel of the bus. It is loosing air. We need to pore some air it it, and there will be no issue." The bus conductor answered coolly.

This is not a common phenomenon. Almost all the passengers targeted this morning bus to avoid the inevitable notorious traffic jam of Kolkata and most of them were traveling this 15KM distance from extreme north to south of the city in this unbearable hot morning, so, the murmur started automatically among the sociable passengers.

"These fellows are government servants. The VIPs."
"Now that the salary is increasing, they will be more VIP".
"What they do in the bus depot? They are supposed to check all the problems."
"Where is the time? Why should they care for me and you? Political Union of the ruling party is there."

Madhumita heard some discussions as well, while she is least bothered about these. She is around 22 years of age. Working for a call center at Sector V, Salt Lake City, Kolkata. She never wants to know about the political issues and from her past and present experiences she has known that gossiping this way is just wastage of time. People of West Bengal, specially people working for the government cannot be changed. The ruling party will rule and the unions will become more powerful day after day. You want to protest, they will not let you. Here, in West Bengal, everything is governed by political colors. You have a dispute with your neighbor, the political parties will come in to get some profit out of it. West Bengal, the Bengali, will never change. Nothing can change the unwritten rules. Only thing she has in her mind is to reach her destination quickly.

The bus started to move again after poring some air in the left wheel and the murmur stopped almost instantly. The bus have covered almost two thirds way to its destination. Passengers are continuously boarding and leaving the bus. Madhumita just finished talking to one her friends through her cell phone. Things seemed to be normal, when suddenly The bus conductor shouted again to the driver and the bus started running in a off rout.

"Hey, what are you doing?" asked the man in white shirt.
"It is not the proper rout. This is getting far away from my destination at Park Street." the guy wearing the greenish T-Shirt inquired.
"What's the matter. You are going away from the rout." again someone asked.
The bus conductor repeated his old answer. "We need to pour air in the left front wheel".
"What? You should have said earlier. I have important works."
"So, what could I do?" The bus conductor asked.
"Means? Three other passengers charged towards the conductor.
"You must have informed us earlier. We could have chosen some other option."

The bus almost stopped now and some of the passengers started getting off. But the rest of the passengers became furious.

"What the hell do you do at the depot?" somebody asked.
"Don't you have shame? You people being public servants wasting the time and money of people."
"Low class people. Only shouting for the ruling party leaders and getting the monthly salary from the government."
The cursing made The bus conductor angry.
"So, we are low class people, why are you yelling on us. Please shut up", he replied.

That reply added oil to the fire.
"How dare you talk to the public like this. Don't forget that you are a public servant."

The bus conductor realized that whatever these people are saying has truth in it. Even today, while they were having tea at the tea stall near the bus depot, neither the bus driver nor he felt the urge to check the Tyre of the wheels. Only thing they checked is the engine condition, brakes and fuel. But, again, it is a fact that he is an active member of the bus-union of the ruling party and may be elected as the secretary very soon. And these fellows do not understand how much power he may enjoy once he become the secretary.

Thinking all these in this situation and hot wind outside made him hot in anger. And he shouted back.
"Of course I am a public servant but not your servant. Don't talk to me like this, or else...."
"Have it been a private bus. We would have taught you how to talk to public." somebody said. In India touching a public servant on duty may bring a lot of trouble to a citizen. May be he recalled that, but some passengers do not care for the rules.

"Else what?" Three young guys surrounded The bus conductor. One of them pushed him.
"Let me show you", one of them tried to catch his collar.

Madhumita got nervous. She is thinking of getting late and start the bus right now. This is a sheer wastage of time and energy. The three passengers heading to the bus conductor must be members of the opposition party. That's why they want to show the muscle power. Also there is no point to dispute with a poor bus conductor. Only thing they all should do right now is cooperate.

Some other people may be thinking like her. So, one of them said, "Let it go. Let's do our best to start the bus and get it moving. We all are getting late.

"Here, we have an agent of the transport minister." shouted someone from the back side.
"Agent, agent. Tell him to come by the side of the conductor.
"He will report to the transport minister. As we all know, there are hooligans working for him, we will be all punished" someone yelled in mockery.
"32 years we are suffering from you, this will come to end."
"Let the election come, we will show them this time." said somebody.
"Only eating,sleeping, gossiping and shouting for the ruling party cannot save you all the time."

The three young fellows who stopped after pushing The bus conductor, realizing the dire consequences they may had to face. Hearing the verdict and support of the fellow passengers they gathered some fresh energy and tried to push The bus conductor again. The bus conductor realized that the situation is going out of his control and just jumped off the bus to save himself from the angry mob. The driver also vanished in no time.


Madhumita got up from her seat and pushed her way outside to get some other vehicle. She also thought once to protest for the bus conductor and let him pour the air to finish this journey. She understood that, though most of the people she mix with and almost everybody around her workplace do not care for the elections and even do not cast their votes, the surrounding has really become anti-ruling-party. From her elder ones she has always heard only about good deeds of the ruling party. She even casted her vote in favor the ruling party in the last election.But after a few major mistakes of the ruling party to acquire land from unwanted poor farmers for industrialization and being unnecessarily rude to the village people, even some encounter deaths of poor farmers have changed something internally.

People has become impatient and a wind of change may be blowing deep inside their minds. She once thought about the hooliganism the three young guys started. This kind of intervention will increase suddenly if the ruling party looses this time. People will take the rule in their hands and will do something drastic, just to show that, they are powerful too. The same way the cadres of the ruling party does these days. She suddenly realised that there is a high possiblity of a civil war some day in the villages,suberbs, towns and even in this metropolis Kolkata, once the rulling party falls.


She felt the scorching heat of the sun outside and the burning sensation from the hot wind blowing . She felt as if the wind is the wind of change for this state that will burn a lot of things in the coming days.

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Storm in the restaurant (Restaurant-e Jhar)

This is a summer afternoon in Kolkata. At this time of the day at 2 PM the temperature has reached its maximum, almost forty degree Celsius. This has beaten the record of last thirteen years or so. There is no rain for at least five months at a stretch. Like other parts of the city sector V is also burning in this heat wave from Jharkhand. The heat is really unbearable for those who are strolling outside of their offices either for having food or for some unavoidable reasons. Even looking out from a safe corner in an air-conditioned room is giving a burning sensation to the viewers eye. The food, fruits and drink sellers as usual are out on this heat and relentless, as they are habituated to this heat wave for the last fifteen days.

Parthib and Manisha were walking towards "Finger Tips" a reknowned restaurant at this place, to have their lunch. The heat is so terrific that the fair face of Manisha looked reddish which added extra beauty to her look. Parthib could not move his eyes away from her. Manisha generally comes here wearing the normal business suit uniform of the business school they read in. But today being the last session before the final semester, she is going to attend ,she has worn a light blue sari on her. Her hair is pony tailed and she is looking gorgeous in the stone studded black blouse she is wearing. She is an attractive girl of twenty two. Just graduated from one of the famous colleges of Kolkata and looking for an opportunity in the corporate world as a professional like Parthib. Parthib has been working as a trainee at one of the software firms here in sector V.

"Right now, if required, I can die for Manisha", Parthib thought himself. He has proposed Manisha twice in these eight months, once indirectly, a few months back and once directly just three days before. She never said yes, but she never said "no" either and that is the last hope for him. He knows well that this is his last chance. She offered Manisha to have lunch with him today and headed for a nearby restaurant.

Srija was looking out through the glasses of her office. The boy is holding the umbrella on behalf of the girl, while the girl is having her fruit juice. "So funny", she thought . Riddhi has never done such an idiotic move while they are together. He works as a technical consultant for a software company at sector V itself. But, that is a bit away from her office. Sometimes they have planned to go out to eat during office lunch hours, but most of the time, they cannot meet at lunch. Even if they could lunch on the roadside stall a day, Riddhi will never do this. And about the umbrella? He is the last person to carry Srija's umbrella she thought. Is that really a foolish act? Doesn't that so the real love, care and loyalty to a girl?

"Hey, like to go to fingertips for lunch?" Komolina asked.
"Yeah let's go." Srija and Komolina headed for the restaurant.

"Whatever you say, Buchanan should be kicked out of Kolkata Knight Riders. Him, and for him only, we are standing nowhere". Saumitra almost shouted.
"No it is McCullum, with his wrong judgements all the way." Arunava argued. "You move dada (Sourav Ganguly) and you are lost. It is that simple."
Pallab was silent, as usual. He doesn't like cricket much. For this reason or maybe some other reasons, the other two are always making laugh at him, for the last few days. Pallab has started disliking this and brought to their notice, but situation has not improved. He just sipped the glass of cold drinks and asked, "Do you know there may be a thunder shower today?"
"What? Are you telling about the news paper weather forecast? Are they ever true?" Saumitra crossed. "Remember Mr. Goldar? Who was renamed as Mr. Gooldar - the rumour-monger, because of his wrong predictions."
"Google never lies." Thought Pallab himself. There is a continuous forecast from google about this thunder shower, though he never checked the satellite imagery. The gang of three were continuing their talk while sipping their cold drinks. They come here together regularly as they work for the same software company.

The restaurant is almost packed up now. Employees from the nearby offices regularly have lunch here. So, very few chairs have been left vacant for Srija and Komolina. They sat just beside the gang of three and Srija was facing the TV screen.

"Do you know where are we planning to go this weekend?" asked Komolina.
"How can I have the faintest idea of your appointments. I am not interested either." Srija thought. "Nope." she answered.
"Hee Hee, water world. That will be pretty exiting I guess." Komolina seemed exited.
"But, Komolina, Sandip is a married man. Do you think that he will continue with you and leave his family?"
"Of course, he will. Do you know how much he loves to stay with me than the old witch. That witch was once came to me and even dared to threaten me." Komolina sighed. "But I love Sandip and will carry on our relationship, whatever it takes."
"And they must have children?"
"No. They don't have. They cannot have any more. Sandip's wife had a surgery on her uterus."

The couple entered right now catched the eyes of both the gang of three and of the girls we were talking about. The girl in blue sari is really looking beautiful but the guy with him is also very handsome. They looked like a perfect match, as if made for each other. The type of couple who pass like a cool breeze in your face on a hot day like this. The couple headed forward to the corner where there is the last four seater still vacant.

Pallab said, "look there is another forecast coming on the TV."
"Forget the TV see the real cool breeze once. It is more of an eye candy." Arunava said.
"Absolutely right", commented Saumitra.
"Let's move now. Will leave early today." said Pallab.
"Wait man, why are you hurrying. Your Project Manager is away and today is Friday. Relax", said Arunava.
"No, if the storm starts just now, we cannot get back to the office so easily", said Pallab.
The other two continued the leg pulling as they are doing for the last few days. He is getting the message from his two coleuges today. They are no more the gang of three, three has become a crowd it is no more a company.

"See the couple, they really look great aren't they?" asked Komolina.
"Yes. Let's start our lunch". Srija said.
"Right. Please pass me a paper napkin".

Their lunch has been served and Komolina started eating really hungrily.
Srija looked at the TV screen reluctantly. The weather forecast is showing that there may be a very powerful storm over Kolkata in the afternoon. "They always forcast. Then the storms come and by the god's grace, Kolkata is always saved. The storms go to Bangladesh", Srija thought.

With extreme astonishment Parthib noticed that Manisha is waving to a man who have just entered. A man of around thirty years of age. The man was in a T-shirt and Jeans and looked pretty stout. The man walked towards them and without taking anyone's permission joined the table. He has a concerned look in his face.

Someone entered and the few seconds the door was open, cool wind entered into the restaurant. Nobody really noticed that for the ACs their. Nobody even looked out to see what is going on outside. Most of them have not noticed that it is almost dark outside, for a dense rain cloud is covering the whole Kolkata.

The gang of three were about to leave.Suddenly there is a cracking sound of thunder and the storm started. Nobody could get the real touch of the cool breeze as the resturent is air-conditioned. But, again there is a craking sound of thunder. Saumitra and Arunava headed for the door but were stopped by Pallab. "See the storm has started. Let's have some more cold drinks." Saumitra was going to call from his cell, Pallab stopped him. "Don't use the cell when it is thundering", he said. Arunava was totally confused, "how come this could have started, even before half an hour there was no sign of clouds," he murmured.

"Meet my would be husband, Nabin", Manisha broke the ice. Nabin said hello, but Parthib could not here. As if the sound of thunder made him deaf and the sudden impact of the situation made him dumb as well. "I have never said about Nabin to you, as you know, we were pretty busy. He works in IBM, Kolkata". Manisha continued and then Nabin intervened, asked something to Manisha. Parthib was not listening to anything, he is terribly hurt. The sudden strike of the thunder storm as if has hit the core of his mind. He gaped around to get away from this situation, this particular moment. "Why me?" he thought to himself and recalled that Manab, one of his friends had given him the warning. "Don't mix with this kind of a girl. She is not of your type. Your relationship will turn to nowhere." Manab warned once.

Neither the three, nor Parthib can move out now as heavy rain has also started almost immidiately. The sound of the TV and the buzz of the people around has been stopped suddenly as there was another cracking sound of thunder and the restaurant lost power.

Srija felt helpless. She always fear from the dark. She also felt suffocated. Srija tried to look at Komolina and she felt a bit of hetred towards Komolina. "This is one of the girls who demolishes the love made home, the family, the real heaven." Suddenly a question struck in her mind, "has Riddhi really gone to Bangalore to represent his company in the Sun Java Conference or he has gone somewhere else? Does Riddhi also have someone like Komolina, in his eyes? Is this the reason he is reluctant about having a baby? " Srija thought." She picked up the cell, tried to ring Riddhi, there was no reply. The automated voice response said "The mobile you dialed is switched off, please dial after some time." But according to Riddhi, the conference is scheduled from 9AM to 1 PM. So, Riddhi must be free now. She tried again and again but no reply. Srija felt a tremendous frustration and breathing problem started. She is about to loose consciousness.

All of a sudden a cool breeze of air entered into the restaurant. It is around 3 PM now. Out there is absolute darkness at noon. After a long five minutes, the generator has been started and the lights came back. Manisha and Nabin could not find Parthib. He is gone.
"The idiot will not disturb me any more," Manisha thought and a quick malicious smile came in her face. "The fool. Moving a few days with a guy doesn't mean that I am bound to be emotionally attached to him." she thought.

Srija gained back her consciousness. She found her head resting in the lap of Komolina. Komolina is treating her as a baby and nursing her with a wait handkerchief.
"We will have to see a doctor after this storm gets over." Komolina said.
Srija could not reply, she only beckoned to her parse where she had her inhaler. Komolina took the inhaler out and stick that in Srija's mouth. Srija closed her eyes.
"It is the man, who is to be blamed in these illicit relationships", she thought to herself.

The storm gone as suddenly as it came. There is a huge tree broken down on the road. The electrical wires, telephone wires are all lying around here and there. A heavy stream of rain water is flowing over the road as well. The cars and buses are moving very slowly as one side of the road has been blocked by the tree. The rain has not stopped totally but everybody is trying to get to their destinations. Some are seeking for taxi. Some are running for bus.

Komolina, with the help of some other guys around and the employees of Finger Tips, got a cab, helped Srija in and started for the nearest doctor she knew. Srija kept her eyes closed again and though a bit embarassed, felt the contentment of being cared.

Manisha was still having chat with her boyfried at the restaurant. They are not in hurry and planning to go for a movie show at the "Big Cinema".

Arunava, Saumitra and Pallab came near the exit. Arunava and Saumitra looked to each other and together they said to Pallab, "Sorry, we have mistaken and make a fool of you about the storm. We have troubled you for quite some time about your ideas and lifestyle. Please don't mind. Those were just for fun. We are friends indeed. " Pallab felt that their gang of three has become a company again.

Parthib was sitting inside the nearby bus stop. He felt the rain. And felt the tears are rolling from his eyes after such a long period of time. He is not feeling the urge to get back home. He is submerged in deep sense of frustration and suddenly feeling lonely. He suddenly realized that he cannot die for anyone. Not even Manisha. As storms get over, and people comes back to normalcy and brings back everything to their shape, however hurt he has been, he will have to bring back normalcy, for him, for the people around him. He wiped the tears from his eyes and started trying to a get a bus to get back.

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