by Naitik Jain
It is this hopelessness that stalls the growth of an individual. The rich are getting richer by the day, and the economies are growing every year. But what we fail to see is the other side of the coin. The people in the backward towns and villages are not being given the opportunities to go forward, and they keep living there, in isolation from the rest of the world. They listen to the ‘elders’ of their locality, who themselves often know much less. The world is growing at an incredible pace, but these people are not. These poor people are becoming poorer in every aspect of their lives. Their wealth is declining, and so is their knowledge.
There are very few people who survive this hopelessness; most of them perish. The farmers are still the lifeline of the country, and they contribute to a large percentage of the Indian workforce. However, more and more people are leaving this profession now, as they are not being given their due respect. It is time we start thinking about them, start educating them, and helping them reach their true potential. This farmer’s daughter would have still been at home had her father not trusted the moneylender. There were so many questions that were yet to be answered, but I had to start from the most important one.
“Where does this man live?” I asked, handing his a piece of paper and a pen.
“I can’t write”, he replied.
“I’m sorry. Dictate it to me then”, I said, taking it back from him.
He gave me the address of the man, and I now knew where to go next.
CHAPTER 6
Kolkata, the City of Joy.
Kolkata is one of the most intriguing cities in India, if not the world. A rather imperfect blend of culture and modernization, it stands out from all other cities, in that it could never adapt to either completely. It was always walking the rope, balancing between the two, never falling into either.
Not many people know that the city is the cultural capital of India, and rightly so. As one enters the city through the busiest station in the nation, one is nothing but overwhelmed, by the sheer number of people he is swarmed by. Be it rowing under the Rabindra Setu, or Howrah Bridge, as it is popularly known, or walking on the grounds of Victoria Memorial, or even observing the sunset, standing by Princep Ghat, one can find solace in this overcrowded beehive.
It is ironic that one never gets to visit the city one lives in. Even though I was born and brought up in Kolkata, I knew so little about it. The only part of the city I knew involved a completely different version of it. With its large buildings, magnificently designed hotels, posh restaurants, Kolkata had never been the old cultural city to me. I had always been under the care and protection of my parents. I had never wandered on the streets, never explored on my own, never been left out to find my way back. I always had my car with me, or maybe a friend’s car. There had always been someone to look after me. My parents ensured that I was given as much comfort as I needed.
But what this comfort had taken away from me was equally essential. I was never free to go out and roam around on my own. I’d often compare myself to a caged bird, well fed, and well kept, yet in captivity. I always had had the dream of escaping once, and running all around the city, doing whatever I pleased, without any fear, without anyone looking at me like I had gone crazy.
Today, I stood at the station with a different purpose. For the first time, I stood here with a purpose. The train eased into the platform and the people around pushed me through the gate, nearly tripping me over on to another person.
“You mad or something?” he blurted, and before I could say anything to him, he walked off hurriedly. Everyone around me seemed to be in a hurry, but what surprised me often was that nobody ever reached on time.
I pulled my bag back on, and walked to the bus stand. Most buses were already full, and I really needed to sit. I walked to one of the buses in the end.
“Route 44.”
It was rather empty, and I sat down on the last seat, by the window. After what seemed like an eternity, the bus finally left the station. Bus journeys in Kolkata are one adventure, especially if you’re not used to them. Overcrowded, like everything else in the city, these buses ensure to test every shred of patience you have, and seem to take away every little bit of comfort you are used to. I soon vacated my seat for an elderly lady, and was being shoved and pushed by the people around me.
“Burrabazar!” howled the conductor. I started my journey to the bus door, pushing and elbowing most people around. When I did manage to get down, it was with the smell of ten other people. I regretted my decision of not taking a cab to the place.
The bus had dropped me of at the corner of the road, so I had to walk about five hundred meters to get to the place. The streets were filthy, with the smell of rotten fruit coming from both sides. The roads were muddy from the rain in the morning, and the footpaths were occupied by the hawkers. There was barely any space left to walk on either. I remembered coming down here every Sunday with my dad, to play cricket with my uncles on the terrace. A lot of my relatives lived here. The homes in Burrabazar were extremely contrasting with the outer appearances of the buildings. While the buildings would seem old and tattered, the homes inside would be splendid, reflecting the kind of richness that the businessmen of this area could afford.
I was finally where I was supposed to be: 201, Rabindra Sarani. The house, like everything else on the street, seemed to be in tatters from the outside. I walked inside the building, and rang the bell. The girl’s father had told me that the entire building was owned by the man.
“What is it?”
“I need to speak to the owner of the building.”
“Who are you?”
“err.. I am, umm, a student.”
“Who shtudent? Saab didn’t ask for any shtudent.”
“I study in IIT Kharagpur. I needed to meet him for some work I had with him.”
“Who is it Shankar?” came a heavy voice from inside.
“Saab, some shtudent from IIT Khadagpoor”, he replied, adding to it a heavy Bengali accent.
“Send him in.”
The house I saw inside would’ve made me want to live there forever. Just like any other house, there was a stark contrast between the inside portion and the outside. However, in this case, the difference was much greater. The house was magnificent in every sense of the word. The floors were paved with a marble that seemed as clear as water, and the furniture seemed like it had been bought yesterday. Inside was a winding staircase, with three exits, for the ground, first and second floor. The ceiling had beautiful patterns drawn all over it.
“You needed something?” said the same heavy voice. I was brought back to reality.
“Yes sir. I needed to talk to you about something very important.”
“Please do so quickly. I don’t really have much time. I need to attend an important meeting soon.”
“Yes sir. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your wife.”
“What do you want to know about her? We’ve been married for twenty years now, and I have two children with her. That’s all you need to know about my family. I don’t want any more questions on this. I thought you needed to work in my company for that summer internship thing, which is why I allowed you inside. You may leave now.”
“I’m talking about your other wife, sir. The one you married a while back.”
As I had expected, he was taken aback by this statement. It took him a while to come up with a response. “What other wife? I don’t have any other wife. I am married to only one woman. Now before my guards throw you out, leave now. I may even call the cops.”
I left hurriedly, as I didn’t want to attract attention. There were people in this area who knew me, and if my father would find out what I had been up to, I’d be in some serious trouble. I walked back towards the bus stop, intending to go back to the station. My job here was incomplete. I needed more information. I needed to know where the girl had gone. Was she still in the house, or was she somewhere else. Given the amount of money this guy had, he could easily have kept
her in another location. I needed to know more about her, and I needed someone who could get this knowledge for me.
Every person has this one friend who ‘knows’ people. We often use them to get things done, or to get information about something. It was time for me to use that card of mine. Before I could do that, though, I had to find this friend of mine, and ensure that I’d be able to get the information out of him, and given the reputation I had built with my friends in the last few years(‘this guy has renounced the world for his JEE preparation’, followed by, ‘now he’s an IITian. He is way too full of himself.’), I knew it would require a lot of hard work on my part.
I went back to the station, and got in the local train. In three hours, I was back to college, ready for the next week of college. Managing both would soon become difficult, especially with the pressure of societies increasing every day. I would have to quit one soon, but, till then, I needed to focus all my energy on my friend, for he was the one who could provide me with the next link.
CHAPTER 7
“No!”
“Oh, come on! I really need this to be done!”
“There is no way in hell that I am helping you again! Remember what happened the last time I did something like that?”
“That was an accident! It won’t happen each time, and you know that!”
“No. It’s way too dangerous to do something like that right now. As it is I don’t have a good name on the street now.”
It was very hard to get him to agree to it. He was upset about the last time when I asked him for help, and both of us got into trouble for a stupid thing I did. “I’ve grown up now! It won’t happen again. Trust me one more time man!”
“Okay. But it will never ever surface that I am doing this for you. We keep distance. I’ll get you the information you need, but you’ll have to just shut up and keep it to yourself. Do whatever you want to do with it, but do not get traced back to me. If you’re caught doing something fishy, handle it yourself.”
“Thanks a lot! I owe you one!”
“Oh, you owe me a lot more than one. What do you want to know about?”
“Well, there’s this girl, used to live in Panskura, and recently got married to a guy who lives in Burrabazar. The girl’s father claims that the guy is a jerk, and that he messes with her at home. I went to the guy’s home, but couldn’t see the girl. She’s a stay at home ‘housewife’, from what I know till now. She was married to him in her childhood, and hasn’t yet become an adult. She’s allowed to come back to her home for a few days every few months, and it was during one of these visits that I met her, in the train.
The guy is not a good man. He looks like the average villain in a B-Grade movie. When I went to his house yesterday, he didn’t mention about her at all. When I asked him about her, he threw me out of the house. Something is seriously fishy with this guy, and I really need to find out about this.”
“What’s the name of the girl?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you ask her father?”
“I didn’t because I was stupid enough not to ask him.”
“Okay. Do you know the guy’s name?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve told you everything I know.”
“You do realize that you’re making me work very hard for this, even though I’m getting nothing out of it? I really don’t want to do this.”
“Please man. This is someone’s life we are talking about. I need to figure this out, and I have to do it soon!”
“Okay. Give me some time to do it.”
“How much time do you need?”
“A couple of days should be fine. Most of my relations with the people on the street are a bit rusty. I will have to revive some of them, pull some strings, but yes, it can be done.”
“Thanks a lot! I’ll wait till then.”
Two days. That wasn’t a long time for me to wait, but was it so for her? Every single moment of delay was causing her more and more pain. I was so sure now that he was treating her pathetically, and yet there was nothing I could do about it. I needed to act on the information as soon as I would get it. All I was hoping for now was that he’d get what I needed.
The two days passed pretty quickly, with a messed up class test and quite a lot of catching up with work. The work was being done smoothly, except that I didn’t want to do it. I finally got a call from him in the evening.
“What information did you get?”
“Dude. I don’t think you should pursue this guy anymore. Leave him and move on. This shit keeps happening with people. It is not your responsibility to make sure that everyone gets what they deserve.”
“What’s with the lecture? What did you find out? I know he’s a rich guy, and has a pretty large textile business, but why do you sound so serious about him? What information do you have about him?”
“This guy goes by the name Gujjar on the streets. People don’t know his real name. He is one of the richest people in the city, but maintains an extremely low profile. Most people wouldn’t even know that he is that rich.
He is quite literally a hotshot when it comes to the textile business. Owns a couple of the biggest shops in the area, and the money flow is decent. He’s also a loan shark, and primarily targets the poorer sections of the society, who often are not able to pay him back.
But all of this is supplementary. That’s not what he’s primarily doing. This guy is a bloody pimp. He picks up girls from these families, by striking deals with their fathers. When the father is unable to pay him back, he agrees to let go of the loan, and sometimes even incentivizes the father with money, in exchange for ‘marrying’ the daughter. He then brings the girl to the city, and hands them over to the madams. He controls a majority of the prostitution networks being run in the city. Most people don’t know about him because he hardly ever talks to anyone. Since his textile business does well, and he maintains good relations with the cops, nobody raises a finger at him.
This girl you’re talking about, is actually lucky to be able to come back home. After a while, these girls start calling their centres home. They never go out, remaining locked inside the place forever. There is no escape for them, and prostitution becomes the only option, since their skills at other jobs are almost always zero.
This guy is very well connected. He knows way too many people to be able to be hurt by any of your attacks. Do not try any stunts with him. He will crush you like an insect, and you’ll be invisible even before you’d make any impact. I really think you should just stay out of this. There is too much dirt in this, and you shouldn’t get your hands dirty.”
“Do you know the locations for his centres?”
“If she’s new, she’ll be located in one of the three low profile centres in the city. From the looks of it, she seems to be new to this, given that she hasn’t been drafter in completely, and is still being allowed to visit her parents. I’ll send you the list on hangouts.”
“That’d be great. Thanks a lot for your help. Give me a call whenever you need any help from me. I will always be ready to help.”
“For your own safety’s sake, Ansh, stay out of this. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. There is too much trouble in this, too many issues. You shouldn’t get into this. Stay away from Gujjar. He can destroy you.”
“Thanks for the advice. I will keep it in mind. Take care. Hope you do well ahead.”
“Hope you do well too. Good luck in IIT. Bye.”
It was back to the contemplation. Gujjar was strong, and powerful. I was nowhere. There was no way I could match up to this guy. I did try, but there were better things to do for me. Trying this hard for something that could potentially kill me was stupid. She was suffering, but that didn’t mean that I had to go ahead and save her. I was not the saviour for every person on the planet. I had my own things to do.
Fighting these powerful goons had never been my specialty, and this matter was best closed here. I had my studies to get back to, the exams
would be here in no time, and then I’d complain about how tough things are. I had to study, work, and play. I had my own life too. This was too tough for a teenager to take charge of. It was best for me to leave this matter as it was, and pretend that nothing had ever happened.
I was back on the study table, with the fluid mechanics text book in front of me. Her eyes kept flowing in my mind. They were sad, desperate eyes that were hoping for a day when she would be free again, yet knowing that it was impossible. Why couldn’t she tell her parents the truth? I was convinced that they would be able to do something about it. There was nothing I could do here. This was not my responsibility. I couldn’t take charge of the situation. I was just another silent spectator, standing in the crowd and seeing the situation from far away. There was no way that I could take such people head on, and win the battle against them.
One must accept that there are some things in life that one can’t change irrespective of how strongly they want to change them. I was sure that this was one such thing. I couldn’t have done anything for her or anything to him. There was no point trying. It would be a matter of time before I would forget about all this, and move on with my life. My dreams were more important than hers, and easier to achieve. It was time to start focusing on them again.
CHAPTER 8
It is said that when one sleeps peacefully, his subconscious rests too, and hence, one doesn't have dreams. I've had dreams since I was a child. Sometimes I would dream that I was flying around my house, while there were times when I was attacked by swarms of insects in my dreams. Often, the movies I watched and the books I read spilled over to my mind, and I would often see myself fighting basilisks with the sword of Godric Gryffindor, or travelling to Narnia through a cupboard. This was also a probable reason for my inherent fear of the dark, and of horror movies and novels. I haven’t watched a single horror movie or read a scary novel till date.