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Thursday, November 18, 2021

The Breakfast - A Thriller Short Story (Inspector Kanailal's cases)

 Sub Inspector Rajiv Mukherjee sat on a wooden chair placed at a corner of the large spacious room on the third floor of Lal Bazar headquarters. The magnificent Red Building of Kolkata Police Headquarters located at Lal Bazar Street had been the epitome of police governance in the city of Kolkata since 1868. Rajiv was a part of the famous Detective Department.  

 

Suman Mandal, a colleague of Rajiv, sat on another chair and spoke with him. The duo belonged to the Cyber Crime Cell and had just cracked a case. It was the month of May and the humid climate ensured to emphasize its predominance upon all the inhabitants of the city. The busy lanes around Lal Bazar Street buzzed with the vibrancy of officegoers, food vendors and passerby folks.

 

“Crime has evolved to such peculiar extent” said Suman while wiping away the sweat on his forehead with his handkerchief, “Today’s criminal minds are becoming more and more aligned towards technology…”

 

“You are right Suman” replied Rajiv, “Most of the cases that we encounter nowadays are outcomes of misused knowledge by nascent minds. When we drill down to the motive of the crime, we find petty intentions of either blackmail or monetary gains!”

 

Suman nodded his head in agreement while Rajiv spoke, “Gone are the days of mindboggling cases where a detective would have to use his grey matter well in order to crack a case… Nowadays most of the crimes happen in the dark shadows of the Internet and the criminal hides behind the curtains of a dingy living room!”

 

“You are right. Time changes and so does the context of crime. I wish we would someday be able to solve a case that involves more human intelligence than computer technology!” answered Suman with a laugh.

 

Rajiv looked at his wristwatch and noted the time. He got up from his seat and told Suman, “Brother, today I have taken half-a-day of leave, I would have to push-off now. I have an appointment with somebody who had given me ample amount of content to enrich the grey matter in my head,” and pointed his index-finger at his forehead.

 

Suman laughed and replied, “Good! I know… you are going to meet your uncle, Mr. Shyamal Shome at his residence!”

 

Rajiv smiled back and replied, “Yes Suman! Uncle Shome had been my inspiration since childhood. The stories that I have heard from his mouth, had given me the encouragement to join the police force!”

 

“Yes, and how can we forget that Mr. Shyamal Shome had been a decorated officer of our Detective Department too! That man has loads of experiences that we can consider as a treasure box of knowledge.” answered Suman.

 

Rajiv smiled back and left. Around five-thirty in the evening Rajiv reached the old whitewashed two-storied house on Fern Road, situated in the Southern parts of the city of Kolkata. Mr. Shyamal Shome lived in a double-bedroom flat on the first floor of the house. Rajiv rang the doorbell and an elderly manservant opened the door and welcomed him inside.

 

Rajiv went inside and sat on the sofa of the decently furnished living-room. Mr. Shyamal Shome had been living in this apartment ever since Rajiv had known him.  Rajiv looked around the room, a place that was extremely familiar to him. Mr. Shyamal Shome, his happily-single unmarried maternal uncle, had maintained the atmosphere of this apartment in the same manner for the past many decades. The room contained large bookshelves stacked with books on different topics, a huge mahogany writing desk on one side and a comfortable sofa with a wooden tea-table on another side.   

 

Within a few moments, a tall elderly man in his seventies, with white receding hairline and a thin yet strong body built, entered the room. The man’s face showed the wear-and-tear of age, but the eyes sparkled like large pieces of diamonds.

 

“Good evening uncle Shome! How are you?” greeted Rajiv. His heart still filled with a childlike thrill whenever he met this elderly man.

 

“I am good Rajiv… How are you and how is your work going on in the Detective Department?” enquired the old man with a strong voice that reverberated across the room.

 

Rajiv gave a brief summary of his work and said, “I could take a little time-off from my work today, so I thought I would come and spend some time with you uncle. Sitting here and listening to the stories about the cases you were involved in, acts like oxygen to my mind!”

 

The old manservant came and served tea and snacks. Mr. Shyamal Shome picked up a cup of tea, sipped it and spoke, “My dear Rajiv, I have known you since your childhood and I have always found you to be very gifted. I feel fortunate that my experiences have been able to provide motivation to you…”

 

“Uncle, please tell me something new from your vast repository!” asked Rajiv while munching a biscuit.

 

Mr. Shyamal Shome smiled and said, “As you already know Rajiv, most of my noteworthy experiences had been gathered while working as a Sub-Inspector in the Detective Department and assisting one of the most talented officers of the department… Inspector Kanailal Ganguly! I have never met anybody like him ever in my life. I feel privileged to be a part of his work.”

 

“Yes uncle Shome, I know that. Yet, nobody knows where he went after his retirement! It seems like the man vanished into thin air after he completed his tenure at the Detective Department!” added Rajiv.

 

“Son… The impact of dealing with crime and criminals is so taxing upon the human soul, that a man who had dedicated thirty years of his life to it, often tries to run far away from its frontiers! I just pray, wherever he is, may his mind and soul be at peace…” replied Mr. Shyamal Shome. “But I will not delve into that topic today, instead let me relate to you about a unique case in which I had worked along with him. It is a singular case that would reveal to you how society can turn an innocent individual into a horrible criminal…”

 

The cover of twilight engulfed the setting sun outside while Rajiv sat in front of Mr. Shyamal Shome with keen interest on what was about to be discoursed. Under the lemon-yellow light of the glowing light bulb, the old man began relating his story in his usual animated fashion… 

****

“Inspector Kanailal Ganguly, the shrewd officer of the Homicide Squad of Lal Bazar Detective Department, lived on the third floor of Niharika Apartments in the Bhawanipur locality of Kolkata. The year was 1981 and Inspector Kanailal had been living there with his wife and their ten-year-old son Biplab. The incidence that I am talking about happened in the month of January.

 

It was probably a Tuesday morning and Inspector Kanailal had invited me for having breakfast at his residence. We were seated at the dining table and eating our breakfast along with his family when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Ganguly went and opened the door and a middle-aged man rushed inside with a face that expressed a concoction of shock and grief.

 

I understood that the man was familiar to the Ganguly family and Inspector Kanailal quickly got up from his place and helped the man to sit down on a chair.

 

“What happened Sunil? Why are you so distraught?” asked Inspector Kanailal.

 

“Sir, something extremely horrid has just happened! Sir, Vijay… my younger brother Vijay… my only sibling is no more!” cried the man profusely while uttering these words.

 

“What are saying Sunil? Vijay had just returned yesterday morning. I met him while coming back from the bazar. We spoke about his wedding next month with Meera, his college sweetheart! What could have happened? This is so horrible!” exclaimed Mrs. Ganguly.

 

Inspector Kanailal handed over a glass of water to Sunil while I stood beside him. After drinking some water, Sunil spoke in a shaky voice, “Sir, as you all know, Vijay used to work as a traveling salesman for the Imperial Insurance Company and had just returned from an official tour. We were all very excited about his wedding next month and chatted till late in the night. Today morning, me, Suhana (my wife), my son Arun and our mother sat for breakfast. Everything was absolutely normal. We were eating our breakfast and chatting with each other. However, as I finished my breakfast and was about to get up, Vijay suddenly fell down from his chair on the floor. He was unconscious and lay absolutely still… I was shocked at this and somehow managed to pull him onto the sofa! Suhana ran down to the second floor and called Dr. Mishra, who came swiftly and checked Vijay. But alas! After inspecting him thoroughly, Dr. Mishra declared him dead!”

 

“Mother is in a state of complete shock! Dr. Mishra had given her some sedative to ease her nerves… We are completely devastated!” cried Sunil.

 

Inspector Kanailal listened to the discourse carefully and then looked at me, “Shome, quickly telephone the local police station and ask them to come over immediately. This incidence seems somewhat unusual. Let us go upstairs and take a look.”

 

I obeyed the instructions and then followed Inspector Kanailal to the apartment of Sunil Bagreja. The flat on the fourth floor of Niharika Apartment was a spacious one with three bedrooms, a large living room and a moderate sized dining room with an adjacent kitchen. Mrs. Suhana Bagreja was sitting on a chair and weeping, while a few fellow residents of Niharika Apartment gathered around the sofa where the lifeless body of the young Vijay Bagreja was kept.

 

Inspector Kanailal and I took a close look at the dead body of the deceased, there was no sign of violence on the entire body. The face was not distorted, nor was there any sign of pain. It seemed as if the young man was fast asleep. After inspecting the body, Inspector Kanailal went over to the dining table, where the fatal incidence had taken place. 

 

Inspector Kanailal took a close look at everything around the dining table and then looked at me and said, “Shome, quickly take a note of the contents of the table. We need to send them to the forensic department for further investigation!”

 

I obeyed the instructions and listed down the contents of the dining table. There were six chairs around the table, out of which five had been occupied that morning. There were five plates in front of the five chairs and it was obvious that the family had just finished their morning meal when the catastrophe occurred. There was a half-filled bowl of potato curry, a serving-plate containing a few leftover Paratha, a small empty bowl of Kheer, some spoons and ladles and three glasses of water.

 

“Shome, take note of every detail while you make the list. Make sure you know even which spoon was used in which plate or bowl…” said Inspector Kanailal from behind me.

 

Next we went over to the room of the old lady, Mrs. Vimala Bagreja, the mother of Sunil and Vijay. Inspector Kanailal had perhaps hoped to speak to her but the doctor cautioned us, “She is in a state of complete shock, so please spare her from an interrogation today Inspector Kanailal!” 

 

Soon, the police officers from the local police station arrived and took away the body for the post-mortem formalities. The officer-in-charge, Mr. Sundarmohan, recognized Inspector Kanailal and exchanged a quick greeting before beginning his work. He interrogated the family members, a few neighbors and finally Dr. Mishra.

 

After the interrogation was over, Inspector Kanailal told Mr. Sundarmohan, “I have asked Shome to take the contents of the dining table for forensic testing. I think this is a case of criminal offence.”

 

“I have the same opinion too. However, we cannot conclude anything before getting the autopsy report. I have asked the elder brother, Sunil, to report at the police station every morning unless a conclusion is arrived…” replied Mr. Sundarmohan.

 

Inspector Kanailal and I went off to Lal Bazar after a while. Mrs. Ganguly had come over to the console Mrs. Suhana and asked her son, Biplab, to take Arun along with him in order to divert his mind. My concentration was occupied with the grimness of the incidence. I wondered about the stark contrast in the change of destiny of the Bagreja family and how, within moments, a happy household swept into a grief-stricken one.

 

Throughout that day Inspector Kanailal was absolutely quiet. He sat on a wooden chair by a window and kept looking outside blankly. I had seen this weird attitude in him whenever he was engrossed in some deep thought. I did not disturb him, instead, I kept in touch with the forensic department regarding the report on the contents of the dining table. Around seven-thirty in the evening I received a phone call from the forensic department and immediately went to the chamber of Inspector Kanailal to report. 

 

“Sir, as per the initial study, the forensic department could not find any anomalies in the contents of the dining table! There was no poison or any malicious content in anything…” I said hurried on entering the room. 

 

Inspector Kanailal gave a weird smile and said, “Shome, do you want to know the cause of Vijay’s death? I just spoke with the coroner’s office where the autopsy had been performed…”

 

I felt a little uncomfortable on hearing the tone of his voice, but nodded my head in agreement.

 

“Vijay was poisoned, Shome!” shouted Inspector Kanailal and banged his fist on the table in front of him. “The poison entered his body along with the food, as there are no rupture marks on his entire body through which the venom could have entered! It is a very rare venom that seldom leaves any traces!”

 

I stood absolutely still and listened to what was being said, and Inspector Kanailal continued to speak in a loud voice, “So the question is… if the contents of the dining table are not contaminated and whatever Sunil and his family had said are true… How did the poison enter Vijay’s body?”

 

“Sir, if I may say something…” I interrupted, “The entire family had their breakfast together… had the food been contaminated, don’t you think it would have affected the others too?”

 

“Exactly!” said Inspector Kanailal, “And there hides the mystery… as well as the elusive motive for murdering an innocent young man! I have already informed Mr. Sundarmohan about these findings.”

 

Inspector Kanailal and I sat in his chamber debating around the topic of this gruesome murder when suddenly the telephone rang. Inspector Kanailal picked up the phone, listened to the voice on the opposite and before disconnecting the line, gave a brief reply, “Alright, I am coming as soon as possible!” 

 

He quickly got up from his chair, turned towards me and said, “Shome, my wife just telephoned… A few hours ago, Mrs. Vimala Bagreja had suffered the same symptoms as her son Vijay! Luckily, she didn’t pass away. Sunil and a few neighbors have taken her to the Bluebell Nursing Home.”

 

I jumped out of my seat in utter shock and said, “What? Two murders in a single day!”

 

“No Shome… one murder and another attempt to murder! Now let us rush to the Bluebell Nursing Home…” said Inspector Kanailal and hurried out of the chamber.  

 

Mr. Sundarmohan met us outside the ICU of the Bluebell Nursing Home. He said, “The poor old lady is completely paralyzed! Only her eyes are wide open and blinks occasionally.”

 

Inspector Kanailal ran up to the doctor in charge and whispered something in his ears. The doctor quickly went inside the ICU and Inspector Kanailal hurried back to us and said, “I think she must have been poisoned too! It is my strong belief that the same venom that was administered upon Vijay, has been used upon her, too!”

 

Inspector Kanailal lowered his voice and said, “The criminal must have believed that the poison won’t leave any traces and thus the entire affair would look like a natural death of the young man! But… the question is why would somebody try to murder the old mother? What can be the motive?”

 

Mr. Sundarmohan interrupted, “Sir, I am taking Sunil into police custody!”

 

Inspector Kanailal stared at him with a questioning look. 

 

 Mr. Sundarmohan continued, “I have a strong suspicion that Sunil has committed both these crimes! Sir the motive is clear! It is greed for property! If my suspicion is right, Sunil must have planned this to remove his younger brother and elderly mother and become the sole owner of all their family wealth!” 

 

“Your deductions do sound logical Mr. Sundarmohan. It is true that Mrs. Vimala Bagreja belongs to a rich upper caste family and commands a significant amount of wealth…” answered Inspector Kanailal

 

“In the current context, if Mrs. Vimala and Vijay are both dead, then Sunil would become the sole owner of everything! The motive is indeed strong Mr. Sundarmohan! Please go ahead and do your duty… Meanwhile, let me think about some more perspectives!” said Inspector Kanailal.

 

Mr. Sundarmohan took Sunil along with him while his wife helplessly pleaded Inspector Kanailal for help. 

 

The situation was becoming very uncomfortable with every passing moment. Inspector Kanailal held Mrs. Suhana Bagreja’s hands and said, “Suhana, don’t cry. Please let the law take its own course. But, I promise you that I shall do everything that is possible for me to do. Trust me… if Sunil is innocent, I won’t let any harm come upon him.”

 

Inspector Kanailal and I took a quick look at Mrs. Vimala and then escorted Mrs. Suhana back to her home.

 

Three days passed but Mr. Sundarmohan could not deduce anything significant regarding the case. Sunil was still in police custody while his wife and son suffered from the trauma of this horrible situation. Mrs. Ganguly visited them regularly and tried to console them, but the impact of the ordeal was so much that nothing could comfort them fully.

 

Inspector Kanailal silently continued his investigation upon the case. He was officially not assigned to the case and thus needed to work with restraint. He even ensured that he didn’t ask for my help on this case during my duty hours. Only during our evening breaks he discussed with me about it.

 

“Shome… I am not convinced that Sunil is a murderer. I know him well; he cannot kill his brother! There was something unusual in that breakfast table… I saw it myself, but I didn’t observe closely. That is why I cannot recall it now. If only I can remember it, I think I would be able to solve this dreadful mystery!” Inspector Kanailal said during our evening break on the third day after Sunil was taken into police custody.

 

On the fourth day, Inspector Kanailal took a leave from work and told me that he was going out of town. I was eager about where he was planning to go, but refrained from interrupting his privacy. I knew, if he would discover something interesting, he would definitely tell me.

 

I spent the entire day with an anxious mind. In the afternoon Mr. Sundarmohan telephoned and I received the call, “Sir, this is Shome speaking… Inspector Kanailal is on a leave today. Can I take any message on his behalf?” 

 

Mr. Sundarmohan recognized me and said, “Shome… I had called up to tell that the interim autopsy report has arrived and it says that a rare venom, usually found in the roots of wild shrubs, had been used to poison Vijay. This exceptional venom is seldom available freely and is very malicious in nature. It paralyzes the human nerves and chokes the blood vessels within moments of administration. Moreover, the doctors of the Bluebell Nursing Home have confirmed that Mrs. Vimala Bagreja was also poisoned with the same venom! In her case, the venom could not result in death, but has paralyzed her entire body forever! Please pass on this information to Inspector Kanailal.”

 

I received the message and disconnected the telephone. Nothing much fruitful happened and I concentrated on my own work. The next morning, as I arrived at Lal Bazar and entered the chamber of Inspector Kanailal, I could feel a vibrant energy inside the room. Inspector Kanailal was sitting atop the table with a shining face and looked at me with the expression of enormous success.

 

“Shome… The case is solved!” he said, “My yesterday’s trip to the ancestral village of the Bagreja family has been completely successful!”

 

My heart started to palpitate loudly and I sat on a chair near him and asked, “Please tell me about the entire mystery and your solution…”

 

Inspector Kanailal looked me and continued, “Mrs. Vimala Bagreja had two sons… Sunil, the eldest one who was married to Suhana and Vijay, the youngest one who was yet to be married. They belonged to a rich upper caste and had significant amount of wealth, in the form of property. As you already know, the entire suspicion is upon Sunil, whom the police suspects in the murder of Vijay using a deadly venom and then trying to murder Mrs. Vimala…”

 

I nodded my head in agreement and before Inspector Kanailal could continue, Mr. Sundarmohan entered the room. Inspector Kanailal got up from his seated position on seeing him and with the wave of his hand asked us to follow him. I felt a bit disappointed on this sudden interruption, but remained quiet.

 

Within the next twenty minutes, we reached Bluebell Nursing Home and to the utter surprise of both Mr. Sundarmohan and me, Inspector Kanailal took us straight to an empty cabin of the ICU department. As we entered, we saw that Mrs. Vimala Bagreja had been shifted to this room. I could not decipher the meaning of this action, but my heart felt hurt on seeing the helpless body and wide open eyes of the old lady lying in front of us. 

 

Inspector Kanailal looked at Mrs. Vimala and started to speak, “Ma’am, the doctors tell me that even though your body is paralyzed, your eyes and ears are still functional. Thus I have requested the doctors for this brief meeting here in this room.”

 

I could see that Inspector Kanailal was looking straight at the old lady while he spoke in a firm voice. “Gentlemen… this is Mrs. Vimala Bagreja, a woman belonging to the elite upper castes… who always took pride in her societal elevated position by birth. However, her morale was shattered when her younger son, Vijay, fell in love with Meera, a girl from the lower caste. Vijay was determined to marry this girl and convinced the entire family about the marriage. However, Mrs. Vimala was angry and heartbroken deep within. Burning in the wrath of anger she finally decided to end the life of her beloved son, in the name of honor! A month before the marriage, she travelled to her ancestral village and met an old quark who secretly gave her a malicious venom. A rare poison that is found in the roots of wild shrubs. The quark convinced her that the poison leaves no traces and she administered it on Vijay, her beloved younger son! Finally, she planned to end her own life too, by consuming the poison… but alas, such is the stroke of destiny… the poison made her a cripple!”

 

My eyes moved towards the face of the old lady and I could see tears rolling down from her eyes. Mr. Sundarmohan stood with an air of disbelief, but was also not able to disregard the words of Inspector Kanailal.

 

“How did you find this out sir?” I asked out of sheer eagerness.

 

“Shome… if you remember, I had told you that there was something unusual in the dining table that I was not being able to recall” said Inspector Kanailal.

 

“Yes sir, I do remember” I answered.

 

“Do you know what was that anomaly?” spoke Inspector Kanailal, “Visualize the dining table, the chairs, the plates, the utensils, everything. The only unusual, but extremely trivial, thing was that the container of the Kheer had two spoons in it! Even though the forensic report didn’t show any sign of contamination, this point regarding the two spoons haunted me in my subconscious mind!”

 

“Then what happened sir?” asked Mr. Sundarmohan with a keen voice.

 

“The day before yesterday, after I returned home, I saw Arun sitting with my son Biplab” said Inspector Kanailal. “As I sat with them and drank my tea, I suddenly remembered this missing link about the two spoons. Without wasting any time, I calmly asked little Arun… son, can you remember and tell me everything that happened on the fateful day, if you can, then I guess I would be able to help your father. Arun had always been an intelligent child and he agreed to cooperate. What I heard next, cleared much of the mystery. I have recorded the statement of the child in my portable tape-recorder. Let me play it for you…”

 

Inspector Kanailal took out a small black colored portable tape-recorded and switched it on. The recorded voice of a child spoke… In the morning, daddy, Maa, Dadi, Vijay Chachu and I sat for breakfast. Vijay uncle had returned from his tour the previous night and Dadi had returned from our village, that same morning. At night Dadi prepared Kheer for all of us. We were eating breakfast and Dadi was serving the food. She served the Kheer at the end of the meal and gave an extra spoonful right into my mouth! Then she went inside the kitchen and fetched a fresh spoon, took a spoonful of Kheer and gave to Vijay uncle. We all laughed heartily and everything was so happy. Then, after a few minutes, as daddy was getting up to wash his hands, Vijay Chachu suddenly fell down on the floor! Maa ran down to fetch doctor uncle and Dadi started to cry. I was confused and daddy pulled Vijay Chachu onto the sofa. Doctor uncle came and checked Vijay Chachu… 

 

Inspector Kanailal stopped playing the tape. “Mrs. Vimala Bagreja hid the venom with herself and when she went inside to fetch the second spoon, she took a lethal dose of it in the spoon and fed it to Vijay along with the Kheer! That is why we could not find any trace of the venom anywhere…”

 

Inspector Kanailal looked at the old lady and continued, “She had already planned to end her own life too, so that evening when she got a chance, she took the rest of the poison herself!”

 

Mr. Sundarmohan sat down on an empty chair on hearing this discourse. My head was spinning out of disbelief. I could not even imagine how a mother could do such a thing! Such a crime!

 

Inspector Kanailal quietly went up to the bed of Mrs. Vimala and sat on a chair beside her. He looked at her motionless body and tearful eyes and spoke softly, “The most pathetic creation of mankind is society and its inherent incompetent layers! What a waste of life, ma’am, what a waste! Our useless caste system has today converted a loving mother into a coldblooded murderer!”

 

I could see that the eyes of Inspector Kanailal were tearful too while he spoke, “Today, a budding young man is laid to death as a sacrifice for mankind’s cowardly creation! However, the Almighty sees the truth and metes out justice! Vimala-ji, you had thought that you would escape from suffering by ending your own life… But look at the justice of God! He had made you a cripple, so that you would suffer for your sin every moment but never be able to get away with the offence! We, the police department, are unable to punish you for your crime. But the Supreme Power has done justice!”

 

Inspector Kanailal finished his words and quickly got up. As we left the room, I looked back at the old lady’s face, tears kept rolling down her cheeks from her eyes while her motionless body lay completely still.

 

Mr. Sundarmohan released Sunil from the police custody and closed the case and Inspector Kanailal explained the truth to him. Time is the best healer, and with the passage of time, the family of Sunil, Suhana and Arun again returned to their normal routine life. As far as I remember, Mrs. Vimala Bagreja lived in that paralyzed state for another two years before passing away.”

****

Rajiv looked at his watch, it was eight-thirty in the evening. In the lemon-yellow light of the glowing light-bulb, he could see that the face of old Shyamal Shome had turned red with excitement. Rajiv felt that his heart, too, was beating fast.

 

“What a case, uncle Shome! I must say, Inspector Kanailal was a genius!” said Rajiv.

 

Shyamal Shome smiled back at him and said, “Yes my son. He was a great detective, and a man with a golden heart.”

 

Rajiv got up from the sofa and said, “I must leave now uncle, please take very good care of yourself.”

 

“I will Rajiv. Come again, when you are free and I would tell you another fantastic tale of Inspector Kanailal and me. My time on this planet is getting over with every passing minute, such is law of Mother Nature. But, I shall be happy if I am able to share with you, the vast experience I have gathered over the year!”

 

Rajiv bid farewell to his dear uncle Shome and quietly walked away while the old man, with his abundance of glorious tales, shut the door of his double-bedroom flat on the first floor of the old whitewashed two-storied house.


Tuesday, June 25, 2019

THE FLOATING DIARY (Supplements): CHINTA-MONEY SWAMI

This is the tale of how Mr. Chintamani Swamimetamorphosed into CHINTA-MONEY SWAMI! Born in an orthodox Brahmin family, Chintamaniwas the only son of his parents. His father was a poor schoolteacher and was the only earning member of the family. Wealth and opulence were distant dreams in the family. However, education was considered a prized ornament of their lineage. Thus Chintamaniwas inculcated into a strict disciplinary routine of studies and good behavior!

Chintamaniwas inducted into a school where English was the primary medium of teaching and his father spent the lion’s share of his income for the same. However, this was the commencement of a unique life of comedy of the convent educated orthodox Brahmin boy Chintamani Swami!

On one side, were the boys from middleclass to affluent families who reflected a stable and decent financial and social status along with their education. On the other side was Chintamani, for whom a meagre and ordinary living was held as a reflection of his father’s achievement as a poor teacher! This created a constant monotonous tune within the innocent mind of Chintamani.

Money is power! It can buy comfort! It can buy respect! It can buy everything… Money is power!” rang the rhyme in his mind!

Then, one fine day, when the school authorities were taking down the formal spellings of the names of the students, Chintamaniwrote his name as… CHINTAMONEY SWAMI!

The incident came as a shock to his parents when they first saw the spelling of his name in the school’s report card. However, Chintamoneywas adamant to keep the spelling of his name unchanged. His father tried to persuade him with the calmness of a teacher but failed. His mother tried with strictness and failed as well. His stubborn mind could only think of one thing… MONEY! Despite his fascination towards the currency, Chintamoneynever ever resorted to stealing or forgery. In school, his performance remained good, but all his creative writings, his mathematical calculations, his vernacular prose had the single focus… Money!

“My life needs plenty and plenty of money!” he would often tell his classmates and then discourse a fantasy tale about his future affluence and how he would purchase everything with its power. 

Even though his childhood was a nondescript one, the happiness and innocent world of fantasy that thrives within the heart and mind of a child, died an untimely death, unknowingly. In its place, a puppet of monetary-hunger made an entry. Thus, he was never happy.

My son, not everything can be equated with money!” his father used to say,“Don’t worry about it. The human being within us is more important. You need to be happy with life, because life is simple. It is not complex!

However, nothing seemed to impact Chintamoneyand he brooded over the fact that the shadows of lack of money always overwhelmed their household. There was never plenty and his father’s income could not make a difference to this stigma.

That was the beginning of a journey and it continued through the years as the little boy grew up through his childhood, adolescence and reached adulthood, while the rhyme rang around the corners of his ears, “Money is power! It can buy comfort! It can buy respect! It can buy everything… Money is power!” 

The unhappy frown, the constant distress and consistent struggle within him, made Chintamoneylook a decade older than his actual age. Slowly, but steadily, he lost most of his friends (because they began to consider him insane) and family (as they considered him unsocial). He was a complete misfit for the society.

Chintamoney Swamihad one religion, one ambition and one desire in his life… MONEY! When he was 21 years old, his father passed away and then two years later his mother breathed her last. The young man felt sad, but there was a strange emotion of an ecstasy and freedom which churned within his heart. It was a happiness that he felt ashamed about, but it was very much real. He couldn’t tell it to anybody, fearing social taboo. He hung two big framed photographs of his parents on the main wall of the living-room, to display his attachment with them. The young man had just started off his career as a marketing executive and he became a staunch practitioner of transaction based relationship. Every move, every relation, every emotion of Chintamoney was associated with some monetary benefit and he ensured that his earnings register kept clocking in more and more in everything he did.

Soon, Chintamoney Swamibecame a real estate broker and began to earn handsomely. Another decade passed and gradually, his wealth started to inflate and his exhibition of affluence became more and more prominent. Within the social strata where he treaded, people displayed their camouflaged adulation, but laughed behind his back. 

Chintamoneyunderstood this gesture. Every evening, as he sat on his comfortable sofa inside the living room of his plush apartment in Mumbai, he used to look at the framed photographs of his parents and used to speak with them, “These people are jealous fools who are envious of my success and wealth! Let them be so.

Deep within his hardened heart, a subconscious soul of a child tried to break away from its chains and free itself, but Chintamoneyensured that it remained caged and wished that it died a predetermined death. When the uncomfortable feeling tried to irritate him more, he used to scribble on a piece of paper and write his own name… “CHINTA MONEY! MONEY, MONEY…. MONEY!”

Two more decade passed and Chintamoneywas now past his middle age and was a rich man. He had the abundance of currency notes and lived alone in his bungalow. Inside his ever grander living-room, Chintamoneyhung the framed photographs of his late parents. Every evening he used to look at them and scorn the rest of his acquaintance in the society, “These people are jealous fools who are envious of my success and wealth! Let them be so.

One rainy evening, somebody came to meet him. As the person came in, Chintamoneysprang up from the sofa as a sudden rush of memories flooded his consciousness. In front of him stood Radhika!  Chintamoney could recognize her from her face. From inside the overflow of memories, Chintamoneycould recall a glimpse of the little girl who used to study with him in school. Chintamoneyknew that she secretly adored him, but his own obsession for money never allowed him to indulge in anything else. His young heart garnered a hidden admiration for Radhikaand desired her love, Chintamoneysuppressed everything with all his might. Every emotion seemed to him as a barrier that was supposed to stop him from thinking about how he would become rich one day! Those days had gone past and so had those years of untold affection of little Radhikawhose affection Chintamoneyhad never reciprocated. At this juncture, after so many years, Chintamoneyfelt an unexpected pinch in his heart. 

As Chintamoneystood silently, he observed that little boy of about ten-years stood holding Radhika’shands.

Before Chintamoney’stransactional soul could brush away the sudden gust of emotions. Radhikalooked at him with her large expressive eyes and asked, “How are you?”

Chintamoneypaused a while and replied, “I am fine. How are you? And who is this young man?”

Radhikabroke down in tears and replied, “I am not good. I am a single mother and this is my son Raghu. He is suffering from a critical ailment of a malignant disease of the liver! I need a lot of money for his treatment, else he will pass away! He is all that I have… Please help me! I have faced rejection from everyone. Nobody is ready to help us financially. I don’t know what to do!”

As the words emerged out of Radhika’svoice, Chintamoneystared at the despondent kid. In his eyes, he could see his own childhood where money was never enough. However, there was something more in those eyes that haunted him. There was a question… Is money always enough? Can it buy everything? What is happiness and how can we buy it? Can it buy innocence? Can it buy life? Can it buy love? Nobody asked these questions but Chintamoneyfelt their pricks deep within the layers of his flab and inside his throbbing heart.

Chintamoneywas speechless for some time. Then, he got up, almost mechanically as if drawn by a controlling inner force. He took out his cheque-book and wrote a cheque worth a fortune and handed it over to Radhika

The latter looked at the figure on the cheque and then asked with an awe in her eyes, “Thanks! But, I don’t think I can ever refund this money! Do you want anything in return? I only have my own self, that I can offer you in return! I am ready to do so for the sake my son! The people say that you never do anything for FREE…”

Chintamoneysat down on the sofa with a thump. These last words shattered him. He somehow gathered his disposition then quietly replied, “No, I don’t want anything in return… just never come back to me again! And take care of him… he is special.”

As Radhikawent away without further delay, Chintamoneylooked at the framed photographs of his parents. He felt that there was a sardonic smile on his father’s face. He could hear a distant voice… “My son, not everything can be equated with money! Don’t worry about it. The human being within us is more important. You need to be happy with life, because life is simple. It is not complex!

“Yes Baba!” said Chintamoney, as if he was speaking with his deceased father, “I wish I had never grown up! What have I earned in my whole life? I wish Chintamaninever became Chintamoney! I wonder, how life would have been then…”

Sunday, June 23, 2019

THE FLOATING DIARY (Supplements): HUNGRY

Rahul felt HUNGRY ! It was a strange sensation that made him feel uneasy and Rahul was unable to understand what his mind and body was asking for.

The young man of twenty-seven years, was traveling to his ancestral home for the last rites of his maternal grandmother. Rahul had reached Kolkata only a day ago. The cremation had already been done, but the religious rituals for the last rites were pending. Rahul took the express-train from Kolkata to Azimgunj Station, a suburb of West Bengal. It was a four-hour-long trip that was supposed to reach its destination around noon. However, a sudden disruption in timetable caused the train to be delayed by another two more hours. The rising heat and humidity of the summer, made Rahul perspire profusely and raised his frustration as he sat inside the compartment.

Rahul had spent the lion’s share of his life in Denver, Colorado. His parents had migrated from India when Rahul was less than a year old. As he sat inside the congested compartment of the train, his mind flew away towards recollection of his childhood days. During his annual visits to the city of Kolkata, along with his parents, his grandmother used to come from their village and the family used to spend a month together in Rahul’s father’s apartment. Rahul had never visited his ancestral home, where his grandmother used to live. His father never preferred to visit the village! He disliked the unhygienic environment and illiterate culture. Rahul didn’t have many memories of his grandmother, but deep within his heart, he cherished the warmth of love that she garnered for him and the beautiful milk-cakes she used to prepare for him, every time he visited Kolkata.

As he got down at the Azimgunj Station, Rahul thought, “I am famished! My stomach is crying out loud for some food!”

However, the rural setting of the small railway station and the unhindered flow of dust in the wind, made him feel a bit skeptical about the hygiene. His ancestral village, Haldipara, was another ten-kilometer-long bus ride away. With the gastronomic turmoil inside his body, Rahul knew he would not be able to manage the journey. He was traveling alone, as he was representing his parents, and didn’t have the luxury to fall sick.

Rahul came out from the station and saw a little sweetmeat shop at a corner. Even from a distance, the place reflected a cleanliness that attracted Rahul’s attention. He thought, “Let me eat something there. Skipping breakfast was a bad idea before I started my journey.”

Rahul went inside the shop, sat on a table by the road and ordered for a plate of Samosas. The shopkeeper took out two pieces of the freshly made delicacy and placed the plate in front of Rahul. However, just as he was about to take his first bite, Rahul’s eyes fell on something in front of him. Beside the table, stood an old lady, perhaps a beggar woman, with her eyes fixed on the Samosas!

Rahul could not take his bite. He felt uncomfortable. Within his mind, a question wheezed, “Has this woman eaten anything since last night? How hungry is she? Certainly, I cannot be hungrier than her! She looks so despondent and helpless…”

Rahul took one Samosa from his plate and gave it to the old woman. She took it with an unimaginable ecstasy, blessed Rahul and went. The look in her eyes melted his heart and felt a strange pang in his heart. Rahul was not used to such scenes and sat wondering for a while. After, he finished the other Samosa and got up. He felt relieved after quenching the thirst of his digestive juices and sensed revitalization of his energies.

As he went near the bus stop, Rahul looked at his watch to note the time. The bus was supposed to leave within the next fifteen minutes. As he stood and waited, Rahul thought about the upcoming appraisal time at office and what his boss going to say. His financial status would be defined by what rating he would receive and that would subsequently shape his career progress. His mind got engrossed in these thoughts while he stood and daydreamed. He had managed to earn a prosperous career after graduation and with his wit and talent, he aspired to soar high through the ranks within a couple of years. 

Again, Rahul felt a pang of hunger. This time he didn’t understand why he was again feeling hungry. The sensation made him feel giddy and he started to feel anxious.

“I just had a Samosa!” wondered Rahul, “This cannot be hunger! What am I feeling?”

Presently, a local vagabond came and stood beside him and said, “May God bless you son! I see all your dreams would soon come true… My celestial powers are giving me this vision!”

Rahul tried to avoid eye contact and looked away at a different direction. The vagabond came closer and whispered with a sardonic smile, “Son… I have not eaten anything for the last two days…”

This time, Rahul stared at the vagabond. The old man had a body that was emaciated far beyond his actual age and had given the man the structure of a living skeleton. He was visibly poor and underfed and looked ailing. Rahul took out a decent currency note and handed it over to the man.

The overjoyed vagabond touched Rahul’s head and before leaving, said, “You are an angel! I don’t have to beg for food anymore. I can devote myself to God now.”

As Rahul got inside the bus, he looked outside the window and saw that the vagabond was begging in front of the passengers of another adjacent bus. A sudden thought struck Rahul’s imagination. He felt amused and thought, “We are so similar! We are rascals of the same tribe! He is begging for more money, when he should be devoting his energies towards God… while I am thinking about my appraisal, when I should be grieving the death of my grandma! We are both hungry for money!”

As the bus started to move, a young lady hurried inside with an infant in her lap and sat beside Rahul. The little child was crying loudly and the lady was struggling to calm her down.

The cacophony of the baby’s cries created a visible discomfort among the passengers and the young lady was left embarrassed. Rahul decided to help and began to many funny expressions at the baby and cajoled her from his own place. The little creature felt amused by this and stopped crying. It first smiled and then began to laugh.

The young lady said with a sigh, “Thank you so much! I was not able to calm her down for such a long time! I thought she was hungry, but even after feeding her, she kept on throwing her tantrums! Now, you have finally managed to bring her to peace!”

As the passing wind fluttered over his face Rahul wondered how he himself cherished the attention of his parents and how he craved for their love, even at his matured age. He replied with a smile, “She was hungry for attention!”

Rahul reached his ancestral home at around four ‘o’ clock. His distant relatives greeted him inside, gave him some refreshments and then all of them sat down for performing the religious rituals of the last rites. The entire episode took another hour and the formalities got completed. It was the first time Rahul had been to this village and he roamed inside the earthen house where his grandmother had spent her entire life.

Rahul didn’t feel bad in that rural environment. There was a sense of peace amid everything. However, his pang of hunger crept back. Rahul wondered, “What is going on? Why am I still hungry?”

As he pondered over his strange feeling, a distantly related aunt came up to him and said, “Rahul, here are some milk-cakes that your grandmother had made a couple of days before she passed away. She used to say that she was making them for you! She knew that you loved her milk-cakes. I don’t know whether she understood that she won’t live long and that is why she made these!”

Rahul felt an emotional upheaval and took a piece from his aunt and placed it inside his mouth. The milk-cake melted away like butter and, after a long time, Rahul’s hunger vanished!

As everybody left, Rahul sat on his grandmother’s bed and wondered, “I now know why I was hungry! Throughout the day, my hunger had shown me so many aspects of my own character! I felt my hunger for food, my hunger for money and success, my hunger for attention! But, I was still HUNGRY!”

Tears rolled down from his eyes as Rahul looked around the room. It smelled of his grandma’s presence. Rahul looked up and tried to say something to the invisible air, “Nothing could calm down the real hunger in me. Only your milk-cakes did! I am sorry, I could not be with you when you went away grandma! I was and I am… really HUNGRY for your LOVE!”

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