Serendipity and After/32

a novel about publishing of a novel

The train was chugging along slowly as if it had lost its speed under the weight of so many passengers beyond its capacity. Or may be the engine was as tired and exhausted as all of us and was working under duress.

Passengers were talking among themselves about how the military ran into their living places all on a sudden and ordered them to leave then and there. But they didn’t beat them up, or kill anybody.

They were talking of a tall, fair-complexioned Pakistani army officer who talked to them in English. He was surprisingly polite for his position. “We’ll do no harm to you if you leave the town in one hour,” he told all of them. Was he the same officer who went to our hall also? I had a glance of him from our second floor room. I saw him walking to the jeep and ride it.

“They’re after Awami League leaders and university students,” a bearded man weighed in, “They have raided the university campus this night with trunks and machine guns.” Had they razed our hall to the ground, I thought.

In a corner a middle-aged man was lamenting that he had left in his mess all of his valuables including his school, college and university certificates.

“Who am I without those papers?” he was slapping over his head. “Can you tell from my appearance that I’ve a Ph D in zoology? How would I get a job without those certificates?”

A fellow-passenger consoled him, “Bhai-saab, you should be thankful to Allah that you’re alive.”

“But how could I be grateful to Allah if I’m alive but have no job?”

The train stopped at a station. A large number of passengers got down. The compartment got eased out. And luckily for me, I got a seat just by the window.

As I sat down, I had a desire to recline and stretch up a bit. Never in my life I had so much physical stress in a single day. I shut my eyes to relax. And then the soft, cool morning breeze blew on my face through the window. It was caressing me. It was cuddling me. I found my exhaustion being melted and going away. I slept in minutes.

I woke up from my sleep jerkily. It took a while to orient myself. So where was I? I looked outside the window. The sun was up. The day had began.

“Is Chuadanga station gone?” I asked the gentleman sitting opposite me.

“Yes, a long ago,’ he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

I felt puzzled and distraught. Kshirod-da must have got down at Chuadanga. He, the mathematician, could never miss out on this step like me. He must have looked for me on the platform. It was the second logical step for him. What did he do when he didn’t see me? He must have ruffled his hair. Next step? “You’ve to wait for a flash of inspiration or clue from some unknown source,” he said to me often.

But I was sure he had failed to solve this problem. As the inevitable next step, he would leave for his home. But what would he say of me when my father would confront him? It was such a bizarre incident that my father was unlikely to believe him. Being the kind of person my father was, he might suspect Kshirod-da for my missing.

The train screeched to a halt at a station. Jessore. I read it on the big milestone. I decided to get down. But where was my bag? I searched for it on the bunk, on the seat. Someone must have picked it up when I was sleeping. But what would he do with my two brand new economics books which I’ve not yet opened? Shaala!

I looked for my file. Yes, it was there, just by my side. I pressed it hard on my chest. I would by no means lose it. It was my life-line.

My purse was also there in my pocket. It was reassuring.

As I got out of the train, I heard that the railway authorities had cancelled the rest of the journey of the train. Why? The army had landed at Khulna and was advancing toward Jessore.

PREVIOUS NEXT

Gutbloom, thanks for your nice response. Who but you would discover the “otherness” in my writing?

Arin Basu, thanks for your copy-editing. You’re a marvelous editor. I don’t know how to express my gratitude to you.

Tessa, from your highlight I think you’re an intellectual reader. Love it.

Ashutosh Jain, SF Ali, mark-john clifford thanks for appreciation.