Venomous Air

"Sir... he is in ICCU... his face is bleeding... broken glasses pierced his face... cut everywhere...", I could hear grief, worry, nervousness everything in Mrs. Sharma's voice. Why not, her only son Swagat was fighting with death at that moment inside that AC cooled sophisticated ICCU at a gorgeous nursing home in Dibrugarh.

"Who drove the car ?" , I asked.

"... the boy studies in Bangalore. They were on the Tinsukia - Digboi highway." She answered with a sodden voice.

I did not ask anything more than just asking for her son's speedy recovery.

Another dreadful road accident. Swagat's friend told me, he along with his friends were drunk at that time along with his other three friends, who did not receive much of the damage!

At class 12... isn't it too early for a boy.. may be girl, like them to own a high cc bike or four wheeler driving license ? Or, .. have the wine glass or a cigarette in their hand. This is the age when they become eager to experiment with their physical changes as well! Police ?? Oh... they create problems rather than solving them. One of my students told me that getting fake birth certificate to obtain the driving license is much easier in the town.

Somebody would say.. "mothers should be careful". Why spare the 'father' ? It is rightly said, "Dad is the first super hero of a boy and first love of a girl child".

Now being the father of a male child, I am literally worried to see the nature of the "current generation." (can anyone define it ?)  

Through out the ages the so called "current generation" is misled, hoodwinked, confused, baffled a bit. They are in search of something, which they themselves are unaware of. They want themselves to be seen as 'someone' special... and with this intention in mind they do not hesitate to push themselves too far... ! They put themselves in the face of danger, shame, embarrassment and humiliation to fulfill their untold desires.

HEY, MY DEAR CHILDREN, please do not waste and destroy your youthfulness; the energy, vigour, liveliness of teenage. Rather, you use it as the ladder to make smooth transition to your adulthood. You will face a more vicious, competitive, repulsive world ahead... it is sure. So go forward with a strong mind and body. Be happy and make everyone around you even happier.

And for me.. Yes, I am worried... for you, for your parents, for the nation and at last for my little son.

(Based on true incident. Name of person's have been changed. The boy had accident yesterday. By now he is out of danger.)

Tuning the Verve

It was a holiday, in the month of August, my adorable wife had been cleaning my stuff in my study room. It was quite hot outside... and inside as well!

"You cannot keep your books and papers properly." I preferred to maintain silence. This is one of the collection of quotations that I have been hearing since my childhood. It is true that I have ( a male habit! ) this habit of keeping my belongings messily all over my work place. And, of course, if someone arranges these, it is sure, I am going to lose certain things!

"You do not help me at all... ", yeahh! That is a common complaint of all the wives on the earth. I quietly followed all her instructions to clean up the room. My guitar, has become adult this year in the previous month. It was covered all over by dust. Cobwebs were hung there like garlands on the statue of a great leader! I still remember crying for it to my mother after passing out my class twelve examination. As I touched it with my pinky, some good memories of my college days ran through my spine! I performed on many stages with this and received applause! With it, I passed many happy and, obviously, certain tragic moments as well. It was my best friend once upon a time till I got hold of my first desktop. I changed my friend.. and since last four to five years it has been lying there in a corner of my room like an unwanted guest. I was becoming so mechanical!! The sounds of DO RE ME PA... was tinkling somewhere in my ears, .. slowly diminishing.. going away from my reach. 

I saw my fingertip covered with dust.. from my old friend. The portion, I touched was shining like the pale skin of an old lady. Yes, I could see wrinkles over her body...! She has become 18 years old... the age, which might make a cute girl beautiful like an angel was too much for her life-less body!

"Wait .. ", I told my wife.. "I will clean her".

"HER??", she shouted.. "Yes... I should clean her", I smiled by pointing at the guitar. 

"Ohh... ok! it is good, do it." She smiled too!

I brought a towel and wiped the guitar .. very softly, removing the dust and dirt. She looked quite younger by then! I saw she was as beautiful as ever...! I moved my fingers over her metallic tresses... she was ready to weave the music again. And I too...
"Need to tune up my life again..."

The Unfinished Journey

It was the year 1997... long 13 years back. I recorded my first song at a sophisticated audio studio in Guwahati. My plan was to give the song for the Doordarshan programme "Sursangam". Mr. Sadananda Gogoi was the producer of the programme. He asked me for the song at the earliest as the recording for the next 4 episodes, may be the last four, was scheduled to be done in the very next week in various places of Shillong and Guwahati.

When I entered the studio my watch showed me 10 pm. Some recording was still going on. My music composer, Rajib, his brother and I had to wait for another 1 hour or 2 in the lobby of the studio. Finally we got the time at around 12 at mid night. I had been dozing a bit and a bit nervous too... However, my voice dubbing was over in a single take. The sound engineer was surprised as he told me that he never saw a new artist completing voice dubbing in a single take. Those were quite encouraging words at that time for a new comer like me. Audio track mixing and editing took another one hour. and finally by 2 am it was over.

I gave the copy of the song to the producer . On the day of video recording he himself along with his renown wife Anisha Sarma took me to the spot where the video was scheduled to be shoot. I still remember my first make up (hope.. not the last!) in a video shoot. Video of 2-3 songs of different artists were to be recorded. A large gathering surrounded us! Lip synch'ing was little difficult for me in first 2 - 3 attempts. Anyway I had a cute girl dancing in my song. Oh.. not with me! Of course, I also danced (all alone!) but it was removed from the video later on. It was telecast after about 2 months by Doordarshan, Guwahati.

That was my first video I acted on and a large audience zoomed up at me! Never wished to stop that journey, lets see..!

Futile Independence

Come lets’ solve our enmity through dialogue.

You dislike, hate me…

You have been killin’ my kins… near and dear ones!!

You think you are oppressed, subjugated by me, by them…

Or, may be, my enemies of the west have pampered you

Against me…  

So, I know, you hath them all…

…and I too…

Why should not I??

What did that six years old school girl do…

Whose severed legs and hands were hanging on the tree

On that day of mutiny…?
What did the weeping woman do...
On the street with her life-less dearest one!
Did the old lady became your deadliest enemy...
Whose son's life you've taken away
On the edge of a bullet

How did those people oppressed you…

Who, themselves, are the examples of the very word!

You snatched away their void sky over the head…

You seized their empty stomach, veins, brains…

Now this is enough… enough for the sake of humanity,

For the sake of independence of all…

SHADOW OF THE MID-NIGHT SUN

The bus, carrying more than double of its capacity stopped at its stand. In fact there is no stand, set aside for any type of vehicle, in the middle of the village market through which the main road is passing by. Wherever they could, people set up their small buffer of the stockpile of ‘Sabji’ and other commodities to fulfill the daily requirement of the folks and to bring home some earnings. The honking horns, the droning hum of the engines of vehicles, wagons and hullabaloo in the surrounding market, all blended up to form a tropical environment. The smell of moldy, festering vegetables, peeled skin of betel nut, dry cow dung mingled up to produce a typical perfume that has its own identity.

“Benipur namibo…” the handyman of the bus shouted with a peculiar voice. Suddenly I came into my senses and got ready to get down from the bus. It’s been long time I have come to this place with my mother after my father’s demise. Unlike the cities, the changes in the villages are very protracted. Here, instead of man, changes are brought about mostly by the nature. Many known and unknown faces turned their questioning eyes towards us as

‘Ma’ and I got down from the bus. Yeah… why not? At that moment anybody could easily spot us as being outsiders. I left behind my childhood here. I was around 12 years old when my father shifted to the distant town. “Now after almost 15 years, many of my primary school mates might be having school going children”. I talked to myself… rural communities are not dawdling …always!!

“Arey… Naubow dekhun!!” My mother turned back after hearing a call from behind. The person was carrying two huge bags on both sides of his bi-cycle. I could see the stalk of the bottle gourd from the opening of the bag. He almost jumped down from his cycle as he stopped near us. ‘Ma’ could easily recognize that person. He is Nabin - Nabin Saikia, now head master of the village primary school. She asked him about the well-being of all concerned whom she could remember at that time. The person really seemed filled with amazement as she introduced me. He also expressed regret for he could not come
in my father’s bereavement.

“Hey… isn’t that Deepak?” Suddenly mother shouted with greater astonishment as she saw one guy crossing us hurriedly in a hush. “Arre Deepak… how are you? We’ve just…” The person, whom she called, stopped for a moment and looked back. But hardly she could speak something more; the person gave a faint smile. He uttered something that we couldn’t hear and went away. “See, how he has behaved!” my mother shouted with sheer disbelief and looked at Nabin sir. “What happened to this guy? His little girl has been sick since last Monday… must be worried… so…” Sir told, while adjusting his bags hung on the handle of the cycle.

But my mind could not accept this excuse as, the moment I stepped into the village; the first person I desperately wanted to meet was Deepak uncle. How could he react like this? The red sun, in the west, was already on its way to say good-bye for the day. The tall bamboo trees on both side of the contracted, soiled village road made the hours of darkness come down little early. The days of oil lamps, lanterns were then, perhaps, a remote past. Electricity had already made its way towards the far-flung corners of the village. Digital age had stepped into this village too. I could see few young men standing at the bus stop and near the grocery shop with cellphones in their hand. Towering TV antennas and elevated satellite
disks in many houses were carrying the pennant of modernity of the community.

As we approached our destination, my grandfather’s home, the past days with uncle Deepak started flashing more into my mind. I clearly remembered myself going to school holding his hand. Then he was a student of class ten, reading in the high school, which was located closer to that of ours. By that time he had appeared almost two to three times in the class ten board examination. Quite experienced, obviously in many fields. I remember, going to the verge of Dikhow River with him to swim and bath, visiting the Bihu function held at the high school premises, waiting for his girlfriend under the banyan tree with a packet of chocolates and cashew nuts. Of course, I also got a share of that, as an incentive, for not divulging anything at home. After a few years, one day I heard - uncle eloped her away to his home making his life partner! My college examinations were going on in that very year and I couldn’t manage to come. Later on, my parents told me how his father-in-law went after him…!

Then, how can I forget those nights he passed, without sleeping, near my bed while I was suffering from severe fever and my father was away from home! Yes, I cannot forget him anyway… but why did he act that way? Is he suffering from any anxiety, stress… or just avoiding us?

We received a grand welcome by all the members at my grandfather’s home. My grandma, in particular, was very happy to see her grandson since she had visited our home two years back after my father’s death. “Nothing has been changed…!” I said to myself. The benign touch of the clay clad moist half brick-walls of the rooms reminded me of my childhood.  My young cousins pulled me in front to their room.

The pernicious darkness over the entire village was driven away by the electric lights. Though the roads lacked in streetlights, these were lighten up by the chattering local youths, gathered in the pan-shops. However, my mind was yet in the darkness, filled up with different superfluous thoughts. I was desperate to visit him…Deepak uncle. Accordingly, in spite of being very much worn-out after the exhaustive journey I decided to pop in uncle’s home.

While I opened the bamboo gate of my uncle’s house, I spotted a few people sitting in the darkness of the veranda. A stray dog, resting near the gate, ran away woofing at me as I called uncle. An unknown fear grasped my mind as I drew near the porch. One of the persons sitting in the veranda came forward. A female voice asked me, “Who’s there?” Only just I could respond, somebody called me from my back, “Is it Nayan?” I turned back and saw uncle with a long twine in his hand. “I saw you on the way with your mother… wait let me tie the bullocks.” He introduced me to aunt in the meanwhile. I asked anxiously about their daughter. “Junti? She is quite OK now… in the reading table”, replying with a smile aunt went inside. I could hear somebody reading inside the room in a low voice.

“Why didn’t you respond at that time?” I asked Deepak uncle with an anger mixed tone. He laughed out loudly on my question. It certainly annoyed me. Before I could say something, he started speaking… 

“Actually I have an upset stomach for the last two days… today just in the market I felt the urge so strongly that… you can understand, I hope!”

Suddenly darkness covered up the whole village within its cool arms. “Again load shedding…?” I murmured. “Heri… sunishane…”, aunt shouted from kitchen, “Where have you kept the candles… Junti have you met Nayan da?” I could hear Junti rending… “Joonbai ae beji eti de…”