Kajal Debnath laughed at Suranjan's outpourings. He said, "Your imagination is running wild. Your suggestions are practicable in secular states but not in this country."
Subhash was fidgeting to join the discussion. Finding a gap, he slipped in, "Today we held a meeting outside the Press Club on behalf of the Bangladesh Student-Youth Unity Council. We submitted a memorandum to the Home Minister demanding reconstruction of damaged temples, relief and rehabilitation for the helpless displaced people, punishment for the guilty and the banning of communal politics."
Suranjan lifted his head from the cushion and said, "Not a single demand of yours will be conceded to by the government."
Kabir Chowdhury said, "How can you expect him to accept your demands? The Home Minister himself was a Rajakar at one time. The story goes that he used to mount guard over a Pakistani camp at his sentry post on the Kachpur bridge."
Saidur Rahaman said, "Those Rajakars have now come to power. Sheikh Mujibur pardoned them. Zia-ur-Rahman invited them to share power. Ershad has made them all the more powerful. And Khaleda Zia Begum is now at the helm of the country with their direct support."
"I heard that Sebakhola temple at Cox Bazar has been torn down. There was a memorial temple at a cremation place and that, too, has gone the same way. The Central Kali temple in Idgaon Bazar of Jalalabad, the community Durga Puja temple of Hindupara, the the Hali temple, the club room of Macchuapara have been completely burned down. The community Durga Puja temple of Hindupara at Islamabad, the Durga temple, Adwaita Chintahari monastery, the house of the monastery head, and five other family temples have been totally gutted. The Hari temple at Boalkhali has been looted. Also destroyed are eight temples, six houses, and two shops of Choufaldandi. In all, one hundred sixty-nine families from the Hindu locality were robbed of all their possessions. Five more shops in the market area have been looted; Hindus are being assaulted everywhere. The paddy storage silos of all Hindu households have been set on fire by sprinkling kerosene on them. The temple of Sarbang, too, has been smashed and later set afire. The Bhairabbari of Ukhia has been totally destroyed. The Kalibari of Teknaj and the house of its priest have been set on fire. Three temples and eleven houses at Maheshkhali were also set ablaze. Four religious Gita schools, too, have been set on fire. The same goes for the Kali and Hari temples of Kalarmar Bazar. Six temples, including the Kali temple and Nat Mandir of Baraghop market at Katubdia have been set on fire. Four smithies in the market have also been plundered. All the household articles of fifty-one fishermen's families at All Akbar Dail have been completely burned down. Three children have been roasted alive at Kutubdia as a result of indiscriminate arson. The community Kali temple at Idgarh of Ramu and Hari temple of Jele Para have been pulled down and then set on fire. Many houses at Fateh Kharkul have been destroyed by fire ..."
Stopping this long narration by Tapas Pal, Suranjan said, "To hell with those tales of looting and arson. Better sing a song."
"A song!" Everyone was surprised. Could anyone sing at a time like this? Was this day like any other? All over the country Hindu houses, temples and shops were being looted and set on fire. How could Suranjan have such a fancy for songs?
Suranjan, however, setting aside the bewildering topic of singing, said all of a sudden, "I'm feeling very hungry. Kajalda, could you possibly offer me a meal of rice?"
"Rice at such an odd hour?" Some members of the assembly expressed surprise.
Suranjan was feeling like gobbling rice to his heart's content. He was overcome by a desire to have a plateful of dried fish. Flies would be droning around. He would drive them away with his left hand, while with the right he would be gulping down rice. Once he had seen Ramratia, sweeper of Rajbari School, sitting in the courtyard of their Brahma Palli house gorging down rice. She had brought Maya back home from school. Suffering from a severe stomach upset, Maya couldn't make it to the school toilet. She fouled herself in the school ground and was crying. The headmistress sent her back home escorted by Ramratia. Kiranmayee offered a meal of rice to Ramratia. That someone could eat rice with such a deep sense of satisfaction, Suranjan wouldn't have believed had he not been witness to the scene. Now he was insisting on having rice before a roomful of men. Was he going off his rocker? Perhaps not. Otherwise he wouldn't have had to let out all the cries of agony that had gathered in his heart. Wouldn't it strike a note of violent discord if he broke out into a cry in the midst of all these serious discussions? He had been roaming around in the sun. He was supposed to call on Pulak to return the money he had borrowed from him the other day. He hadn't yet spent the hundred takas given him by Maya. He would have to go to Pulak's place even at night. At the same time he was feeling hungry and sleepy.
Through his slumber, Suranjan heard someone continuing that dreary narrative of the holocaust: Basana Rani Chowdhury of Loharkanda village in Narasingdi had been driven out of her home. Her son was forced to sign a blank stamped paper at the point of a dagger. They left with the warning that if anyone got to know about this deal, they would kill Basana Rani and her two sons. Did Basana look like Kiranmayee? Was she as soft, innocent and harmless as Kiranmayee? As gentle and peace-loving? The henchmen of Yunus Sardar of Ramjanpur in Madarihat raped two girls, Sabita Rani and Pushpa Rani. At Dumuria in Khulna, two sisters, Archana Rani Biswas and Bhagabati Biswas, were dragged down from the van in which they were returning from market only to be raped at the house of Wajed All. Who were these men? What were their names? Something like Madhi, Shaokat, Aminur. At Patia in Chittagong, Uttam Das, son of Parimal Das, was killed by Badsha Man, Nur Islam and Nur Hussain as they forced their way into the victim's room at about three in the morning. For filing a case against the assailants, Uttam's family was now facing the threat of eviction from their home. Sabita Rani, a student at Baralekha school in Sylhet, was kidnapped by one Nijamuddin and the members of his gang while she was studying at night in her room. She was never heard of again. Shephali Rani, daughter of Nripendra Chandra Datta of Bagura, was forcibly taken away and subsequently converted to Islam. The administration was of no help. Surrounding Shuro and Bag- danga villages in Jessore on all sides, armed mobs looted the Hindu houses, beat up the people severely and gangraped eleven women the whole night. Then what? Still someone was curious to know. Were the eyes of the one who wanted to know dilating in fear or hatred, or was he feeling a strange sensation?
Suranjan's eyes were closed. He was feeling sleepy. He didn't have that much patience left to find out who was bursting with curiosity to hear about the fate of a wandering family of three Hindus of the Ghoshbag area of Noakhali, Sabitribala Ray, her husband, Mohanbanshi Ray, and their young daughter, Abdul Halim. Nanu, Abdur Rab, Bacchu Man and their associates of Alipur raided Sabitribala's house and snatched at dagger point eighteen thousand takas that she had collected by selling her cultivable land to defray the marriage expenses of her daughter. They threatened to kill her if she refused to write a deed in their favor and leave the country for India. They also took all the cows belonging to the family before their departure. What would happen if Sabitri and her family members didn't go to India? What else could happen? They would just be killed. Three hundred sixty milkmen's families of Sapmari village at Sherpur had been forced to leave the country following persecution by fundamentalists. At Katiadi in Kishoreganj, some Muslim informers had forcibly acquired through forged deeds the landed properties of Charu Chandra De Sarkar, Sumanta Mohan De Sarkar, Jatindra Mohan De Sarkar and Dinesh Chandra De Sarkar. A move was afoot to acquire the lands of Ranjan Rajbhar of Dapunia in Mymensingh district and evict him eventually through identical methods. Ranjan's two sisters were forcibly converted, married to Muslims and then driven off after a few days. The Muslim sharecroppers had forcibly grabbed seven acres of paddy land belonging to Narayan Chandra Kundu, a resident of Balighata village at Jaipur. They had also constructed their own houses on that land.
Suranjan wanted to fall asleep, but he couldn't. He didn't want to listen to these harrowing tales, yet the voice
of someone came floating in: Armed with guns, All Master, Abul Basher, Shaheed Morol and others plundered in commando style the houses of six Hindu families of Char- gotkul in Narayanganj. They robbed Subhash Mandal, Santosh, Netai and Khetra Mohan of all their belongings and then evicted them from their home.
Someone called Suranjan, "Get up, Suranjan. Get up, eat now, the rice is ready."
The caller seemed to be Kajal. Maya called him in this manner with a pleading voice: Dada, food has been served, please come to the table. He would buy some sleeping tablets with the money received from Maya. It seemed he hadn't slept for quite some days. He was eaten by bedbugs at night. He remembered Kiranmayee crushing the bedbugs with the hand fan in his childhood. He would ask Maya to finish off all the bedbugs in his bed tonight. They seemed to nibble even within his head. Suranjan felt his head was swimming. He was overcome by nausea.
In the midst of all this, a voice droned on: "His home is at Rajbari." It was perhaps Tapas's voice. "In our place, thirty temples and their adjoining houses have been consigned to the flames." Another voice chimed in, keeping pace with the oncoming evening: "Listen to what has happened in Noakhali. Seven houses and the Adharchand hermitage in Sundalpur village have been looted and burned down. After looting three houses in Jagadananda village, the raiders set fire to them. Ghoshgram, Maijdi and Son- apur have lost their temples. Added to this list are Akhanda hermitage of Durgapur village, Qutubpur, Gopalpur and Sundarpur besides several temples of Chhay Ani Bazar. Ten temples and eighteen houses have been set on fire at Babupur, Tetuia, Mahidpur, Rajganj Bazar, Tengir per, Kajir Hat, Rasulpur, Jamidar Haat, Choumohani, Porabari and Bhadabhadri villages. The same has happened to nineteen houses in Rajpur village at Compani- gunj besides molestation of women. In Ramdi village a man called Biplab Bhowmick was hacked to death with long choppers."
Suranjan only wished he could seal his ears with cotton balls. The talk was centering on the single topic of the Babri mosque demolition along with the rampage and arson all around. Oh, if only he could find a deserted island! Better, if he could go to Mymensingh. This sort of de struction or burning of houses figured somewhat less in that region. He could have cooled the burning sensation all over his body if only he had had a daylong bath in the river Brahmaputra.
Suranjan got up with a jerk. Many of the people assembled in the room had already left. He also made a move to go. Kajal said, "Rice is there on the table. Just eat it up. You dozed off at this odd hour of the day. Are you feeling sick?"
Suranjan turned and twisted to limber himself up and said, "No, Kajalda, I won't eat. Don't feel like eating. Not feeling well."
"Does that make any sense?"
"Perhaps it doesn't. But what can I do? I feel hungry at one moment, next moment the pinch disappears. Belches are bringing a sour taste to my mouth, my chest is burning with acidity. I often feel sleepy, but when I try to fall asleep, it just eludes me."
Touching his shoulder, Jatin Chakravarty said, "You seem to have broken down, Suranjan. But can we afford to be so dejected at this hour? Be firm. Somehow or other we'll have to survive."
Suranjan stood bowing his head. Jatinda's words to some extent echoed Sudhamay's. For a long time, he hadn't sat at his father's bedside. He wouldn't stay out for long today. Kajal's place was the meeting spot for various people. Fervent discussion would linger in endless circles. Serious talk on politics and culture would go on till late at night. Suranjan would pay heed to them sometimes; sometimes he would not.
He left, leaving the meal untouched on the table. He hadn't taken a meal at home for quite some time, but today he would. He would sit at the dining table together with Maya, Kiranmayee and Sudhamay. A great distance had separated him from them, although he was to be blamed for this. No more would he allow this barrier between himself and the others in the house. Light-hearted as he was in the morning, he would talk with them in the same high spirits and laugh merrily, conjuring up his boyhood days when he would eat homemade cakes with the sun on his back. They would all become his close friends, not in the usual way of family relationships like father-son or brother-sister. Today he wouldn't call on anyone else. Neither Pulak nor Ratna. He would go straightaway to Tikatuli and take whatever meager food was offered to him; he would go on talking with his family till late at night and then fall into a sound sleep.
Kajal walked him to the front gate. He said with great warmth and concern, "You are not doing the right thing by staying out of your house in this manner. We move around within a very limited area, never venturing out of it. Those who came to this house today-all of them are from nearby areas. I wonder how you can move about freely all over the city alone. Anything may happen at any time."
Without talking further, Suranjan started walking at a brisk pace. He had money with him, so he could hire a rickshaw easily. But he was hesitant to spend the money loaned to him by Maya. He hadn't smoked for the whole day. He now felt a craving for a smoke despite his hesitation about using Maya's money. He felt quite royal as he bought a packet of Bangla Fives at a shop. Walking up to the Kakrail crossing he hired a rickshaw. The city turned somnolent rather early these days, like a sick man who retired to bed at an early hour. But what was the sickness the city had been suffering from? He remembered a friend who had a big painful boil on his buttock He would scream in pain throughout the day, but would be scared at the sight of medicines or an injection syringe. Could it be that the city, too, now had a boil on its buttock? So it seemed to Suranjan.
"Maya, can you tell what has happened to Suranjan? Where is he moving about at this hour, can you guess?" asked Sudhamay.
"He told me he would be going to Pulakda's place. Must have become engrossed in talk there."
"But does that mean he won't return home before evening?"
"Who knows? At least, I don't understand. Should have returned by this time."
"Can't he even once think about how we at home worry so about him? Doesn't it occur to him now is the time to come back home?"
Maya intervened to stop Sudhamay from talking. "Please don't talk so much. You feel difficulty in speaking and you shouldn't exert yourself either. Just keep quiet on the bed. It's time for you to eat and, after that, if you want me to read to you, I'll be happy to do so. You must go to sleep at ten after you've taken your sleeping pill. By then Dada will surely be back, so don t worry."
"With your nursing, I'm coming around quite fast. Otherwise, I would have been lying on the bed for a few more days. But recovery has its risks as well."
"What sort of risks?" asked Maya, crushing the boiled rice to make it softer.
Sudhamay, beaming with a smile, said, "You're feeding me, Kiranmayee is massaging my arms and feet, pressing my forehead! Shall I get this much love and care when I am fully cured? Then I'll have to face the drudgery of attending to my patients, do the daily shopping at the market and even quarrel with you." Sudhamay laughed aloud. Maya gazed at Sudhamay's joyous face with unblinking eyes. For the first time since his illness, Sudhamay was smiling today.
He had earlier told Kiranmayee, "Open all the windows today. I don't like this darkness in the room. Let the air move freely. I haven't felt the nip of winter till now. Does a feeling of freshness go well only with the springtime? In my younger days, I would paste posters on the wall, braving the chilly wind in winter. I'd then have just a thin cotton shirt on. I had moved to the hilly areas of Sushong Durgapur with the communist leader, Mani Singh. Do you know anything about the Tonk movement or rebellion by Hajong tribesmen of those days?"
Kiranmayee, too, was in a good mood. She said, "I heard lots of these stories from you after our marriage. Didn't you spend a night with Mani Singh in an unknown house at Netrakona?"
"Kiran, did Suranjan put on woolens when he went out?" Sudhamay asked. Pursing her lips, Maya said: "Not at all, just like your younger days, merely a thin cotton shirt. He is a modem-day revolutionary. Natural wind hardly bothers him. He is more busy coping with the winds of time."
Kiranmayee's voi
ce also showed streaks of anger: "Where does he go, what does he eat, or does he eat at all? No one knows. He is becoming more and more wild as the days go by."
Just then, there was a mild knock on the door. Was that Suranjan? Kiranmayee left Sudhamay's bedside for the door. Suranjan knocked on the front door in this manner. Of course, if he was too late at night he entered his room straightaway from outside. Most of the time the door that led directly to his room was locked from the outside, which facilitated his entry, but he also knew how to open the door if it had been locked from within. Since it wasn't too late, it must be Suranjan. Maya was mixing boiled pulse with the softly cooked rice for Sudhamay. She would see to it that the food was quite soft lest Sudhamay have difficulty in swallowing it. He had been on a liquid diet for quite a long time. The doctor had now advised partially solid food. Shing fish in light gravy had been cooked for him. Maya was about to take a little gravy with rice when that light knock could be heard. Kiranmayee, standing at the door, was asking who it was. Did she train her ears to listen to the reply from the other side? But hardly had Kiranmayee opened the door, when seven or eight youths burst into the room. Some four of them were carrying thick sticks. Before she could see any others, they just swarmed past Kiranmayee to get inside. They were in their early twenties. Two of them were dressed in skullcaps, pyjamas, and punjabis, three others were in shirts and trousers. After storming in, they started smashing up and hurling whatever they could lay their hands on: tables, chairs, cupboard, television, radio, utensils, glasses, books, dressing table, pedestal fan, just like a demented pack of animals and absolutely tightlipped. Sudhamay tried to raise himself, but failed. Touching the door, Kiranmayee stood petrified. What a grisly scene! One of them took out a long chopper and shouted, "You bastards, you have demolished the Babri mosque. Do you think we will let you go in one piece?"
Shame: A Novel Page 17