The fathers of Jangalmahal

Is Harihar Samanta mentally unstable? Why does he frequently take the train from Jhargram to Tatanagar, never forgetting to buy a ticket? He wishes the train would have an accident. That it would crumple like the Jnaneshwari Express did. And that he would die.

Harihar Samanta’s son did get a job at a school after taking the school service examination, in a village 24 km away from Jhargram. The transport arrangements weren’t reliable. It wasn’t possible to commute from home. He had to live near the school.

The Bengali teacher at the school was murdered recently. In front of the school. Bullets pumped into him. In Arun’s presence.

Arun was on close terms with the murdered teacher, who was a member of the leftist All Bengal Teachers’ Association. So was Arun.

Arun came home in fear. He hasn’t been to the school for two months now.

Arun’s mother says, no need to go back. Life before employment.

Arun no longer leaves the house. He doesn’t talk either. An able-bodied young man just sits at home all day.

Harihar Samanta has two letters in his pocket. One of them is addressed to the education minister of West Bengal. “Kindly transfer my son Arun to Medinipur town or to Kharagpur as compensation for my death.”

The other letter is addressed to the railway minister. “Give my son a job in the railways as compensation for my death.”

After the Jnaneshwari Express accident, Harihar had been told that one member from each of the victims’ families was to get a job with the Railways. Plus ₹5 lakh. Not a small sum.

In the breast pocket of his shirt Harihar carries two letters and a valid ticket. Behind the pocket, a father’s heart. Thudding.

Naba Mahato has a roadside tea-shop in Golatanr. He is an old man. His son Bhola Mahato runs the shop now. He makes pakoras, ghugni, dum aloo. There’s a joint forces’ camp nearby. Most of them eat at this shop. Business is good. They ask for egg curry. Bhola makes it for them.

One day, two young strangers arrive at the shop.

They tell Bhola to come out. Do the police eat here, they ask.

Bhola nods.

The police are our enemy, they tell him.

Bhola nods.

One of them gives him a small packet. There’s poison in there, he said. You must add it to their tea. The operation must be completed within three days.

Bhola nods.

They leave.

Bhola closes his shop and goes home.

He tells his father everything.

Naba Mahato says, bury the packet of poison.

And then?

Do you plan to poison people? It’s a sin. A grave sin.

Should I close the shop down then?

How will we survive if you do?

I have just three days. What if they kill us?

Don’t go to the shop anymore, my son. Stay at home. I’ll manage the shop. Let’s see what happens.

Ajay Giri is a clerk at the BDO’s office. His daughter has epilepsy. She’s been having frequent fits and seizures for the past two months.

Jadunath Tudu is a peon at the office. He says there’s a very good ayurvedic doctor in his village. Not incantations or holy water, he gives medicines. Makes the pills himself from roots. It cures epilepsy. The village is 16 km from Lalgarh. They can cycle there.

Take me, Ajay Giri tells him.

Jadunath says the situation is not safe in the village, the villagers themselves feel insecure.

So what, says Ajay. Everyone knows you.

They set off on a cycle one Sunday. On a path of red earth. In the shade of the jungle.

The clomp of boots.

Joint forces.

Halt.

They stop.

They’re forced to get off the cycle.

Where are you going, they’re asked in Hindi.

To get medicine, they answer.

Who goes into the jungle for medicines, they say. You get medicines in the town.

Ajay tries to explain.

They do not understand. You have to come with us to the camp, they say.

Two men in uniform escort them to the camp on foot.

Jadunath says the village people are seeing us walking with policemen now.

Narahari Routh has been murdered. He owned a great deal of land. Several sheets of paper lay near the corpse. Narahari the people’s enemy is being eliminated.

An accidental death. So, the last rites have to be conducted after three days. Janardan Satpathy is the family priest. He has given them a list of things to buy.

Narahari’s son is a contractor. Lives in Jhargram.

He has returned home on hearing the bad news. He will leave after the last rites. He’ll take the family to Jhargram with him. But first he must ensure his father’s well-being in the afterlife.

The list is quite long. It includes monetary payments in lieu of many things, including a cow. But Janardan Satpathy’s father dies just one day before the last rites. The shastras say he cannot perform religious duties now.

Janardan tells everyone at home to keep quiet. His aged father’s corpse lies beneath the bed. No one must weep, says Janardan. Not till the last rites for the rich man are completed.

Janardan conducts the rituals the next day. He returns home with a bag. It holds saris and other things. He has ₹3,000 in cash in his pocket.

Sitting by his dead father’s corpse, which gives off a stench, Janardan tells his daughter, who has a BA degree, you wanted to take a computer course, didn’t you? Here’s the money.

Both father and daughter weep now.

(Translated from Bengali by Arunava Sinha)

(Swapnamoy Chakraborty is a Kolkata-based author. His novel Abantinagar won the Bankim Puraskar in 2005)

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