Short story
Relief
"All fucking Bangalis tell lies. They all help 'Muktis' but externally, they always say 'Pakistan Zindabad'. This time we'll 'Pakistanise' them well. We'll improve their racial stock, too." Brushing aside the invective, Borkot , softly but firmly responded: 'I know Colonel Sobhan Ali quite well. He'll tell you everything about me." Observing him intently for quite some time, the hesitant captain pronounced his final declaration: 'All right. You may go."
The launch started to move, but hardly could he get rid of the insults that had left a deep seated scar in his mind. Borkot felt extremely humiliated.
Is this what our 'brothers' think of us? What a trap we have been fenced into for the last 25 years? I wish I could crush his chin!
The way the Nature had appeared before his eyes during the journey, it seemed it didn't have any idea as to what had been going on in Borkot's mind. The bowed banyan tree's old leaves, beautified by the commencement of red fruits, simply energized the blackish blue water. Like a deep desire of the soul, suddenly there emerged a white-colored
mosque with a minaret silhouetted against a background of a field of vigilant green-golden aman paddy, fortified in a cluster of coconut and betel-nut trees.
However, the chatty and gleeful young girls with earthen pitchers in their flanks or carefree young boys unreasonably laughing happily seemed conspicuously absent all along the river. Perhaps, they had kept themselves confined to their huts.
Also, the launch passengers were talking in whispers, and their conversations were unrelated and fragmentary. So subdued were their conversations that their words seemed to have lost the emotion and liveliness contained in them.
"Shoals have widened here. It wasn't like this before." One passenger involuntarily commented.
"These are bad days." Carelessly remarked another passenger, and then he immediately shut his mouth up and turned gloomy.
"Putli's mother is suffering from urinary problems. Always she feels sleepy. Who knows whether it is curable or not." The first passenger changes the course of the dialogue.
"After disembarking, I might have to wait for five hours. It'll be around midnight when I'll reach home."
The dialogues strayed on to different paths till an apparent excitement gripped all the passengers. It was as if they got liberated from the stifled panic and anxiety they had been afflicted with. Meanwhile, the Sareng, the pilot of the launch, had hoisted the Bangladesh red-green flag atop the water vessel replacing the Pakistani one. Sharing the same spirit of enthusiasm, the wind seemed to have increased its velocity. A sense of magnanimity seemed to have occupied the sky; a new transparency flooded the vast wilderness of green, and a personal wish seemed to have become prominent in the expanse of the river.
"This area is under the control of the rebels. They may catch and take us away if we don't change the flag." The Sareng seemed to have addressed an unseen gathering. However, all the passengers could decode what he had said. A sense of piety and reverence seemed to have engulfed the passengers as if they were saying prayers. While the launch was negotiating a turn, they could see a patrol boat with a Bangladeshi flag fluttering in the air in resolute heroism and amid joyful friendship of the surrounding environment. Two freedom fighters, holding stenguns in their hands, were keeping a vigil, with their eyes fixed like a falcon on the distant right bank of the river, while another young man, holding a rifle, remained penetratingly alert: either their weapons were aimed at killing the enemy people or getting themselves killed.
As soon as the motor launch took a turn towards another direction, everyone's intense desire started to ebb away, too. Like a heart-wrenching betrayal, the Pakistani flag was once again hoisted atop the water vessel, signaling an impending horror.
It would take around two hours by bus to go to Shahana apa's house. The bus would leave after an hour. Some Al-badars and Razakars were seen loitering around. In frenzied and misrepresented religious passion, the eyes of some of them were glowing. They were wearing robes, pajamas and round caps; besides, their beard and moustache were carefully trimmed. The poor one among them was wearing a lungi and a vest; the cap on his head was not adjusted properly. All the passengers kept a safe distance from them. Apparently, there was no reflection of panic and uncertainty in their eyes; however, they could be felt if observed closely. Also, Borkot was perturbed as his nerves remained excited. When the bus was about to leave, one of those people boarded the bus as a passenger. Like an ominous apparition, the presence of the person was moving round the bus. As a result, the gestures of the passengers were benumbed; their sights panic-stricken, and their talks stifled and extra careful. The entire human settlement looked reclusive. Suddenly, a boat was seen plying in a swamp; a drowsy old oarsman was rowing the boat. At times, chickens, ducks, calves and goats were also seen. Although, they were making noise differently, there was a similarity in their scales; but the people who were accompanying them looked lifeless.
Thereafter, a dreadful image conjured up in Borkot's mind. Perhaps it had been a sprawling human settlement before, but currently it looked barren: it was burnt to ashes. In different places, the scorched grass turned blackish; at times, some stumps of bamboo poles could be spotted. It was as if the fire, being exhausted, had come to a halt at that point. The entire scene looked as though it was a grimacing ghost jeering at the green pasture. Suddenly, he saw three dead bodies lying beside the bank of a pond. The ribs of a body were exposed after a fox had eaten some part of it in gnawing hunger. Seeing the hair and the nose-pin it could be ascertained that the body was that of a girl. Another body was of a mother, perhaps. Her unclean teeth appeared through her mangled nose and lips. Her right hand lay outstretched like Christ' munificence towards her son; it was as if she had made a last ditch attempt to save her son. Besides the bodies, however, a growing banana tree remained unscathed. The brown patina of the young cone of the banana seemed gleaming under the late afternoon sun.
"It was absolutely right. We'll crush to death all the traitors like these. Pro-Indian elements are the enemies of Islam," the Al-badr man said. It was as if he was giving a sermon. All the passengers, however, remained quiet as a sign of protest.
Borkot's mind was changing so fast: a sense of hatred, enmity, hope, panic, anger and helplessness, eating into his mind every moment, rendered him confused. It was impossible for him to keep his mind focused on a particular thing. Whatever happened to his life till yesterday was fragile and fragmentary. It was as if the momentary revelation of his soul today came as a gift to his existence that brought about a new realization deep inside his consciousness.
Some distance apart, tea-stalls and stationary shops were found open. Sipping smoldering tea, the neighbors were gossiping, while the stray dogs were either quarreling or chatting amorously in their language. There were no girls around; hardly were there any young boys. They might be living in purdah. The Al-badr stopped the bus near a village and disembarked. The black shadow moved away, but it certainly left a seed of fright planted in the air for the days to come.
After the Al-badri had gone away, a passenger, twisting his copper-colored face, hurriedly got down from the bus and started throwing up jerking his entire body like a cholera patient in one side of the road.
Borkot took some time to find Shahana apa's house. It was a building, but the plaster of the lime-painted walls came off exposing the bricks. Besides, there was a hole kissing the right corner of the discolored window. Right next to it was a hill of wood wasp, with some holes in it. On both sides of the stairs, there was a deep cluster of weeds which could be the shelter for snakes.
Climbing the stairs, he knocked at the door, but there was no response; only a cat mewed from inside the room. Thereafter, he could hear someone's careful footsteps followed by Borkot's arterial throbbing. Then he slid his hand into his trousers' pockets to check whether the bundle of money was there. Had the Al-badr wanted the packet, he would have been forced to give it. There wouldn't be any protest. It was due to Shahana apa's luck, nothing had happened. How would she look like after such a long time? Eagerness and curiosity gripped Borkot as he was waiting for the door to be opened.
The door was flung open. This woman could not be Shahana apa! The woman's body was awkwardly out of shape, sockets of the eyes were wrinkled and skin contracted.
"Is Shahana apa home?" Hesitatingly, Borkot asked the question.
"Yes, she is in. Please don't speak so loudly. She's not well."
Borkot tiptoed into the room: in the room, there was a chair without its left handle. Some text books were systematically arranged on it. It seemed they were not used recently. Soot accumulated in different corners of the ceiling. A spider was weaving a cobweb comfortably.
"Military people looted everything. Looking at her, I feel like crying. Still she didn't inform her parents. Are you her relative?"
"Majeda fupu, who are you talking with?" The voice that floated out from inside the room soothed Borkot's mind, even after such a long time.
"One of your relatives has come, but I haven't asked his name."
"Shahana apa, it's me, Borkot."
"Who told you to come here?" The voice bore displeasure, and it also had a tinge of suspicion mixed with it.
"Shahana apa, I haven't seen you for so many days. I just wanted to enquire about you. Is it forbidden?"
"How is everything back home? How about your wife and kids? Are they ok?"
Her voice emanated the same aristocracy; the door, however, remained shut.
"I've brought something for you, but you are not opening the door."
There was silence, inscrutable yet thrilling. It was something unusual that would happen beyond the ordinariness of daily life.
"Majeda fupu, could you go out for a moment? I have got something very important to discuss with my relative."
She was caught unawares by Sahana's sudden request, and she hesitated for a while before going out of the room to the inner compound. With a feminine inquisitiveness, she would perhaps try to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"Did you bring the money?" She asked the question in a clear and firm tone.
"Yes, I did."
"I'm opening the door a little; you just throw it in."
"Shahana apa, why are you doing like this? What has happened to you?" Burdened with so much of interest, his voice trembled.
"Nothing has happened to me, but you don't need to see me." This time her voice reflected an absence of resoluteness that she had shown earlier.
"But why not? Is seeing you a sin? I just came a long way only to see you. I'll never go back without meeting you. Shahana apa, I am not your enemy."
"Do you really want to see me?" The tone of her speech changed; it was seething with subdued anger.
"Certainly."
"Then wait for a moment."
Those few moments were the most unforgettable experience in Borkot's life. A blend of mystery, curiosity, exhilaration, expectation and hesitation was wrecking havoc on his mind. Suddenly, the ground under his feet seemed to have gone into a state of wailing.
"Come on in."
Borkot could hear the sound of the opening of the latch of the door from inside. The door was left ajar.
"Shall I come in?" This time he was feeling reluctant.
"You have come such a long way to enquire about me. You are so compassionate! You filthy swine, come on in." Lost in a fuddled state, Borkot, hypnotically and clumsily walked into the room by pushing the door wide open.
"Oh my God; no---no." Borkot yelled in surprise.
Shahana apa is totally naked. He downed his head after he took a glance at her. Shahana apa's saree, blouse and petticoat lay strewn on the dull and worn-out floor. Besides, he could see a bed, two steel boxes under it and a small table in the room.
"You bastard, why don't you look at me now?"
Again he upped his head to look at her; this time his eyes remained glued to her body. Surprisingly, her well-shaped breasts remained so firm; her entire body seemed to have been endowed with a new capability, but the spark of anger was evident in her face. At times, it was flashing, and then again it dimmed.
"Have a good look at them. See what the military did to my stomach. See it carefully. Going back to your place, you tell your people about it, adding spicy remarks."
Stupefied, distressed Borkot kept looking at Shahana apa in a defeated gaze.
Like an eagle, she swooped on Borkot, scratched his nose, ears and face with her nails and then in a voice swelled up with poison, she yelped: "You bastard, I told you to send me the money. Now that you have come, kick me in my stomach. Kick…kick…kick." (Concluded)
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