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A Long Evening- contd

by Mrinmoyee Goswami
(Canada)

Contd from page 1

Santanu stands by the gate as the evening slips away silently. The neighbours eager to partake in the festivities had all departed by then.
"Santanuuuuu, oi Santanuuuuu, come inside." Ma bellowed.

Only Santanu does not move, does not stir. Aita came out, and they stood in the dark silence of the evening. He does not want to go inside, yet doesn't want anyone to see him, waiting like that for his father in vain. But, it seemed his wish was not to be granted.
"Oh, it is Santanu." Their neighbour Duttani-Aita said, seeming to emerge out of nowhere. On seeing Aita, she got down from the rickshaw.

Duttani-Aita was back from her daughter's house, who stays on the other side of the town. But why are they standing by the gate at this time?
"His father was supposed to take him out today. He told us he would be at home by five. It's seven- thirty now. Still, no sign of him."
"Oh, poor boy." Duttani-Aita said. And she started to narrate with what enthusiasm her grandchildren went out in the evening, leaving Santanu more dejected than ever.

She chatted with Aita for a few more minutes, before departing for good.
He could make no sense of the flow of time, but once again his mother's voice punctuated the stillness of the moment.
"Santanuuuuu come inside."
But with no response from Santanu, propelled her to come out. Even she was expecting his father to be on time. He doesn't remember her look so beautiful as now, in a glimmering red saree and jewelry. "Now Santanu. Come."
But he had no inclination to go in.

Ma pulled his hand. "Stay outside and fall sick. Your father is not coming to take you to the Pujas." Santanu started to cry.
"Why do you scold him? Since morning he had been hoping that he would go with his father." Aita chided mother.
But, it seemed, Ma was in no mood to be pacified. "Does your son ever come home on time? As if, your son is the only one on a government job."
Ma pulled him again. But Santanu clutched the gate with his hand. His mother, it seemed, lost all her patience, giving him two straight slaps.
He started wailing louder. Ma slapped him harder still.

"Now, enough." Aita said. "You go inside. I will bring him in."
"Now, come my dear." Aita said in a soothing voice. "We will sit on the veranda," and she brought him in.

She sat on the veranda with Santanu on her lap. He clutched her neck, still looking into the road, still keeping his ears pricked for every passing scooter, not speaking a word, as the minutes stretched. The people were returning home now, children with balloons in their hands, the silence sprinkled with the sound of whistles and pistols.

Then he saw the lights of a car flashing on the road. In the faint light, he saw it to be a Maruti car. That must be Sunny and Ronny, for only they have such a car in the entire neighbourhood. He could bear no more. He jumped from Aita's lap and went inside, so that if Sunny or Ronny were to avert their gaze towards his house, they wouldn't see him. Aita too came in, he hid his face on her sador, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Aita cuddled him, and he put his head on her lap. He did not realize how tired he was, a tiredness nothing akin to being weary after playing with friends. He started to fall asleep.
"Santanu, now wake up." He could feel Ma's hands on him. "Wake up my dear. I have made your favourite egg curry."
Even amidst the weariness, he felt famished. He had not eaten anything since the cup of Bournvita in the evening. Half awake, half asleep, he finished everything off the plate.

**

It is nine thirty and to Ratan, the day seemed to be of particular waste, and he feels that he had accomplished nothing. And at times like this, it seems to him that his job is doomed to bring him nothing but only frustration. But what could he do?

And above all he has no clue as to tonight's incident. From what he could surmise, a fight broke between two groups over some minor squabble. That was the beginning.

Someone overturned a chat stall. A few vendors retaliated by hitting the culprit. Within minutes, another scuffle broke out. In that commotion, some puja goers started grabbing stuff from the stalls. Those on whom common sense prevailed started departing the area for good.

By the time the police arrived, the festivities had turned into a riot of some sort. The small police force now faced with the daunting task of maintaining law and order exercised their lathis without restraint. They dumped the culprits, they could lay hands on into the jeep.

He takes a sip of the tea that Hemen had brought. How disappointed Santanu and even Sarala must be today. Poor Santanu, he must have waited and waited; "for a long time," - the dimensions that cannot be stipulated.
"Ratan, O Ratannn. " His senior calls him.
He looks at his watch. It would be some time now before he reaches home.

**

Sarala looks at Santanu's face. He had fallen asleep, exhausted not for any activity, but rather by the absence of it. Tomorrow is the Dasami, the goddess bidding adieu for the year. This Puja also passed away, without any variation. She moves to wake Santanu up to change his dress. But then, she decides against it.

It was very late by the time Ratan reached home. He could not bear to look at the face of his sleeping child, still dressed up, and he felt a pain, an unmitigated pain. But what could he do, bound by limitations, by commitments.

Sarala was not speaking to Ratan. She warmed up the food, put it in front of him, and said nothing. He did not offer any apology. Instead, he asked his mother. "Did he go to sleep a long time ago? "Yes." She said, "He fell asleep on my lap waiting for you. He is very sad today."
"What could I do? There was a commotion in the market today." "Will you keep talking or eat anything now?" Sarala interrupted.
Emboldened, Ratan said, "When he wakes up tomorrow morning, I will take him out for a ride in my scooter.".
Still, she did not say anything
"Oh, I had forgotten about it." He said, handing her the packet he had brought when he anticipated coming home.
Sarala opened the packet. The jalepis had turned very cold.