Prottoy Hamid

Qadirabad, Natore, Bangladesh

‘Well, why are we only five here? Nobody else?’ said a middle-aged man leaning against grass. Nobody felt the urge to reply. Actually nobody knew the reason why they were there.

‘I think,’ said a man of dark brown complexion, who was sitting spreading his legs, and who was watching something in the northern sky and musing, ‘I think there is no other than these five. If there was any, certainly they would come here.’

‘Ummm, h-how were you so sure?’ asked a dumpy, dark man. He gave an impression that he did not like the man of dark brown complexion at all! He was musing over a serious issue: ‘Who is the hero of this story then? One possibility is that the man of dark brown complexion or that very man who is chewing gum or something else like a cow chewing cud may be the hero. Will it be right to ask him about it? No, it’s a matter of prestige!’ But the irresistible urge like the thorn of a date tree was piercing his heart. As he was musing and musing, neither did he pay heed to what the man of dark brown complexion said nor notice the reaction of the people! The other one beside him, the one who was the youngest of the five, whispered a question to him, ‘Is that man the hero?’ He was so irritated with the question that he was burning with rage but somehow managed to harness his passion. Yet, wearing an artificial smile on his face he answered, ‘Don’t know, I don’t know.’

‘Well, at least we can talk about our whereabouts. This can beat the time.’ said that middle-aged man. He tried to examine the reaction of others. He understood that everybody except the dumpy man became interested. The young boy with acne on his face proposed, ‘Then you start please.’

The man seemed to be very much inspired. He read all the faces very hastily, cleared his throat and said, ‘I have come from Changaon, Parbotipur— far away from here. It’s a four/five hours’ walk from Parbotipurto my village. Muddy road, you know. So tough. I don’t know why the writer has brought me here! I’m quite sure he doesn’t have a very good plan with me.’

The dumpy man became suddenly interested in the issue, and said ‘Why? Why? H-how do you know this?’

‘Not difficult to understand. I was bargaining to hire an auto-rickshaw in an auto-rickshaw garage. At this stage of the story, the writer’s daughter came and interrupted him. Perhaps the little angel wanted to see cartoons on laptop. So, you understand, the writer was to stop. I have perceived what my role is in this story. I am going to be an auto-rickshaw driver!’

‘Who else are there at your home?’

‘That I don’t know. But maybe I am married. When the owner of the garage asked me about that, I said so. I may know further in the next sitting of the writer. I can share it then.’ said the middle-aged man and turned to the dumpy man, ‘Now tell us what you know about you.’

‘I also know very little about me. I only came to know that I am studying at a university. Masters in English. I first found myself gossiping with my friends in front of the Department.’

‘Where are those guys?’ asked the man chewing the gum.

‘They didn’t come. There I left them. Perhaps they are unimportant characters for the story. The writer didn’t pick them.’

‘Maybe.’ said the man of dark brown complexion, showing the gesture as if nothing were there to be bothered. Then he asked the man who was chewing gum, ‘And you?’

The man spat out the chewing gum on the grass and took another one. He closed his eyes for a while. He opened his eyes dramatically and said, ‘I have come here to my girlfriend. I have not been informed from where I have been here. It’s been seen that I went to the campus directly after getting off the train. My girlfriend studies there.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘It’s also not stated. Maybe I’ll know it shortly. It’s painful that the writer is advancing very slowly!’

‘You’re right! This is exactly the reason why I haven’t liked this writer. Well, why is the writer so slow? Why he isn’t completing the story? He may have no urge or interest as we do have. I don’t like passing idle time like this! There should be an action… yah… a climax, an excitement and all these stuffs. But look! The writer is advancing very slowly, writing very little every day! We are stuck to the same action for several days.’ The dwarf said all these at a stretch. He seemed to be very much annoyed.

The chewing-gum man blew the chewing gum and said, ‘Maybe the writer works in an NGO. He cannot manage time for the story!’

Someone murmured, ‘Yah, maybe.’

2.

Post evening.

The man of dark brown complexion entered the room hastily and said, ‘You people are here! And I was desperately looking for you outside in the field. I could have come earlier. But the writer was working on me and didn’t let me come.’

He gave a pause and scanned the room curiously. He saw books and only books around him. He thought that all these books mean millions of lives, millions of stories. All these lives- known and unknown- live here in every leaf of books silently. Once they were alive, as we are today. Once they’ll get life back and we’ll be silent. He was musing and sighing. He moved his attention from books to the floor. ‘O, I understand why you are here. The writer has just gone away and no one is in the house! So you’ve gathered here in this library room. It is a comfortable rendezvous. Outside the house is the torture of mosquitoes, you know!’ said he in a single breath.

There was a scrap of sound outside. All became silent. Silence was everywhere. The middle-aged man broke the silence. He addressed the man of dark brown complexion and said, ‘I dropped you on the campus. I got some passengers there to Shaheb Bazar.  That English man was one of the passengers, I can remember. You are Sayem, aren’t you? That beautiful girl was calling you by this name.’

‘Yah,’ answered the man turning his face with an expression of boredom. Perhaps, he did not like the phrase ‘English man’.

‘I’m Joynal’, said the middle-aged man wiping his sweat with a towel, ‘I came to know this only today.’ He looked and examined every eye, and then asked, ‘Have you learnt your names?’

The man of dark brown complexion was going to tell his name. Suddenly he noticed some signs of mockery in all faces. Maybe the name ‘Joynal’ was not liked. After all, it is a backdated name! And what about his own name? Isn’t it backdated too? Jamir. His name is Jamir. So, he instantly decided to change his name. He looked at every face by turn, and uttered, ‘My name is Jim, Jim Joarder.’

‘Yes, a bit modern.’ said Sayem. But he murmured, ‘except Joarder!’ Resuming his tone he said, ‘Now you know my name. Sayem. I don’t like this name. This name doesn’t go with me. There is no doubt now that this writer is very inconsiderate and poor in naming his characters. A writer must know that a character’s name is suggestive, it’s important for the proper presentation and portrayal of a character.’

Paying no heed to the complex argument of Sayem, the man chewing gum sat on the floor and said, ‘I’m Topon. Topon Chowdhury. I am a doctor, as the writer presents me. But I don’t understand why he needs a doctor in his story!’

‘I have been given no name,’ said the little boy, ‘everybody addresses me as “Picchi”. I don’t even like this name. The writer could have given me a name.’

‘Yah. We all call him Picchi. He serves in our medical canteen. Very good and active. Sometimes he brings tea to our chamber. One of my cousins likes him very much. My cousin comes to visit me now and then. And when she comes, she always brings something for him. O, I forgot to say that my cousin came to me today. You were with her.’ Dr. Topon said it turning towards Sayem. Then he asked Picchi, ‘She brought you lots of chocolate today, right?’

Picchi opened his mouth to answer, but Sayem snatched his breath and said in a nasal tone, ‘Inthe real world people also call them Pichhi. The writer used the name Picchi, because he must give the story a sense of reality, got it? Oh, as you are not literate, you won’t understand this. This means that the writer has to present the characters as they are in the real world. This increases the credibility of the story! Do you understand?’

Pichhi, it seems, understood nothing. But other faces and eyes were clearly annoyed. Jim said, ‘You are hurting the boy for nothing.’

Sayem was going to protest this. Topon gripped the chance and changed the topic. He asked Jim, ‘Have you met your girlfriend?’

He responded with a feeling of disappointment, ‘Nope. She was away from the campus. I met her roommate who said this.’

‘You could have phoned her. You don’t know her contact number?’

‘Yap. I know. But I wanted to give her a surprise! That’s why, I didn’t phone her. Even she doesn’t know that I am back home.’

‘Back home? That means, you were abroad?’

‘Oh, I forgot. I mean, I knew this only today. I came from Sweden just a few days ago. To Sirajgonj. And today, you see, I’m in Rajshahi.’

‘She didn’t contact you? If she did, she might know it!’

‘I know this, too. That’s why I told her that I lost my SIM in Sweden. I told her not to phone me and be worried. When I replaced my SIM, I would call her. Actually I switched off the phone.’ Jim uttered the last sentence as if he were telling it to himself only. He gave a little pause and added, ‘Oh, well, what I was telling… I was searching for a good hotel. Actually I was very hungry. As I was entering a nearby hotel, there was a power cut! And the writer also left. You understand…’ with a wry face he continued, ‘For this I couldn’t know anything else about me.’

Sayem said in the same tune, ‘This cannot go on. The writer seems to have no plan. Till now we have got three unconnected places. Jim went to the campus; we are in the market, and Dr. Topon in his chamber. The addition is that my girlfriend had taken me to the hospital.’

Dr. Topon took the floor—‘Then I think I have found out a connection because your girlfriend is my cousin…’

Sayem did not pay his attention to Dr. Topon anymore. His anger made him feel like slapping the man down on the floor! Now he is sure that this is the man who is the hero of this story. His jaws became stiff. But he tried to control his anger and said, ‘Still I’m not pleased with the progress of the story. It seems to be a very flat and dull story. No stress, no surprise! No rising action till now, let alone any climax. We don’t know when the falling action will come, or if it will come at all.’

Joynal was gaping at his speech. It startled Sayem and he stopped. He changed his way of discourse and plainly stated, ‘I mean, the whole story seems to be a total failure.’

‘Brother, the story has not been finished yet,’ Dr. Topon reminded him.

‘Even then I’m not pleased. At least the starting suggests so. Tell me, is there anything in this story to enjoy?’

Dr. Topon did not continue the argument. But Jim reacted, ‘I think I am enjoying all these. The uncertainty that centres round me seems to be a thrill! I’m enjoying it, really.’

‘The story seems to cover one day only. Perhaps the writer will maintain the unities of time, place and action. Then why is he taking so much time? He has two separate sittings by now with a long gap between them.’ said Sayem. Then he muttered, ‘God knows how many more sittings await us!’

3.

‘Brother, are you very upset? Uncle Joynal informed me.’ Picchi asked Sayem while sitting by him.

Sayem did not reply. A strong emotional rage choked his words. Only a free flow of tears can alleviate this heavy burden. He wanted it. But an unknown, unintelligible reason stalled him to do that. Overflowing resentment instigates limitless tears. A soft hand is required to make those tears flow, otherwise they frozen and stick to the glottis. The voice of the boy might let the tears flow, but it did not happen because he was also irritated with the boy. Why did the boy donate his blood to Jim? Why? If the boy had not donated the blood… yah, that type of blood, O negative, would not have been available.

Supti was becoming blurred. Was it because of the coating of tears? Or was it because he was going away—far, far away?

There was no moon in the sky today. It was not supposed to be either. And if there was one, it would be of no use. The whole sky was covered with dark clouds. Everywhere there was a silent and brooding atmosphere. Were the clouds also suffering from pains? With unbearable stress of water in their bodies, the clouds were standing still. If it rained, surely the clouds would be released of the stress.

Joynal came and sat beside Sayem. He began to speak somewhat absentmindedly as if he were speaking to himself, ‘Dr. Topon will not come today. He has to attend some critically injured patients. Do you feel bad for Jim? Actually I was to be blamed. I offered Jim a lift to the market. The back gear of the auto-rickshaw was not working, and I didn’t know it. I could not turn back. The truck hit Jim on the left side. He was injured severely. I also fell down, but I was not that much injured….’

Sayem was not in a mood to listen to or to be informed of such and so many things. He was not listening to him at all. He felt like sharing all his sufferings with Joynal—why he was so sad, why he would be very happy if Jim died. Actually he would not know all these truths if the accident did not take place. He even did not know that Supti, his so close a friend, loves someone else- loves Jim! And they were betrothed even. He came to know all these things today, and because of this accident.

He went to the hospital with Supti even though he was not willing to go. He went there several times. He never felt like going there. He sat there idly, but Supti spent hours together with Dr. Topon laughing and gossiping and making all fun. He became very much annoyed all the way. Yet he was never able to say ‘no’ to her. He did not know why he could not utter a single word looking straight to her eyes. Why? He was also unable to look at her eyes for hours. But he wished he could talk to her gluing his own eyes to hers. But Supti never tried to understand him. He did not know why he was unable to express himself to her.

Whenever they talked about Dr. Topon, she always affirmed that Topon was her cousin only, and nothing else. He did not believe her, though he wanted to. Today it becomes clear that she spoke the truth. Today he stands against another truth—his rival is not Dr. Topon, rather Jim! He has come to know the truth at such a time when he does not have the courage nor the strength or the situation in his favour.

Today when they stood up to return, a colleague of Dr. Topon rushed in his chamber. He informed that Picchi did a very good job today. He donated his O negative blood to save a dying injured man. He was asked to stay there because the patient might need another bag of blood.

Everybody was utterly shocked and surprised! Some thirty minutes ago Pichhi brought tea for all. So many things happened in this short time!

Supti went to the emergency ward only to see Picchi. Then…Sayem did not want to recall anything now. Surprisingly he saw that Supti threw herself frantically onto the injured person, and he was Jim! A sudden break of emotion made her lose all control over herself. Did she begin to lose herself in the whirl of darkness? Or all her love, all her colourful days centring Sayem began to flee away— gnawing and groaning?...

Sayem was musing and musing. He did not know that he was going to lose all his emotions in an unknown darkness.

He rose from the musings when the heavy hand of Joynal touched his shoulder. Joynal spoke a lot to soothe him, but he did not listen to a single word. Joynal continued, ‘I have to go home. I am trying to escape. If I am caught, I have to make up the loss of the auto-rickshaw. It’s not possible for me to do that. I have to catch the 12 pm train to Parbotipur. Let me go. Time is very short. Perhaps the writer is about to finish the story. We are no longer required now.’

Sayem could hear the last sentence. He felt a sudden twist of his emotions. Is the story over? Does it mean the happy union of Jim and Supti? Then why has the writer brought him here in this story? Why? Why is he suffering like this?

No. He is not going to leave this place. He will sit here, here in this field beside the writer’s room, he’ll be sitting forever. Maybe the writer will start writing again. Maybe Jim will die at hospital! Then there is a chance that the writer will yoke him and Supti together. He knows and believes that the writer will not be so cruel at him. Someday he must sit to write, he must bring his Supti to him. How and why will he survive without Supti?

Picchi left the place long ago. Joynal was also leaving. A sack was on his back. He looked back with eyes of despair and uncertainty. He looked back and saw Sayem sitting still like a statue. Far, far away where the sky embraces the earth, Joynal saw the thick and blue darkness—thick and obscure. He saw that Sayem was looking at that distance as if someone from that place came and eradicated all his sorrows, and pains of deprivation.

But Sayem did not notice that a car from a press stopped beside the writer’s house noisily. He did not notice that a man got down from the car and entered the writer’s house. The man with some paper in his hands came out very shortly. He did not notice that the light in the nearest room was turned off when the car left the place.

Now there was nothing but unfathomable blackness around— nothing except that blue light in that dark distance.