Nikhil Khasnabish

(“The Attack” depicts the attack on Dharani Bora’s family by the supporters of the Assam Movement. Sumit, the protagonist, saves Dharani Bora and his wife. Dharani’s wife, Malati Bora, is tied to the guava tree. She is senseless! Sumit frees her from the tree and shines the torch on her face. Blood clots on the left side of her forehead. He picks her up in his arms and struggles into the room where her husband is lying.)

Dr Udit Saikia got out of the car, the briefcase and the torch in his hands.

      Sumit followed him. “Please give me the torch.” 

      Dr Udit Saikia handed the torch to Sumit. 

      Shining the torch, Sumit showed Dr Udit Saikia into the house. “Dr Saikia, Dharani-da is senseless.”

      Dr Udit Saikia felt Dharani Bora’s pulse. “I’ll give him an injection. Let’s bring him to the bed.” 

      Sumit and Dr Udit Saikia lifted him from the floor and made him lie in the bed. Sumit stood near the bed, shining the torch. Dr Udit Saikia prepared an injection quickly and pushed it into Dharani Bora’s left upper arm.

      “Is there a danger now?” Sumit asked.

      “No.” Dr Udit Saikia sat on the edge of the bed.

      Sumit changed into Dharani Bora’s lungi and shirt. Within minutes, to Sumit’s delight, Dharani Bora recovered consciousness. He looked at Sumit and pointed to the next room, parting his lips in an attempt to speak something. Sumit bent over him. “Dharani-da, do you want to tell me something?” Dharani Bora made another unsuccessful attempt to speak. Sumit looked at the face of Dr Udit Saikia. “Why can’t he speak?”

      “Probably he is much shocked.”

      “Should I get him water?”

      “It’s not a bad idea. He may be thirsty.” Dr Udit Saikia felt his pulse again.

      Sumit took the torch and, shining it, walked in for the kitchen. He did not know exactly where the kitchen was. He shone the torch hither and thither. “Where’s the kitchen?” He went to the western side where there was a tiled house with mud-plastered walls. “This may be the kitchen.” He went near the house. Malati Bora? Tied to the guava tree! Senseless! He freed her from the tree and shone the torch on her face. Blood clots on the left side of her forehead. He picked her in his arms and struggled into the room her husband was lying in.

      Dr Udit Saikia stood up. “Make her lie in the bed.” He examined her. “I’ll give her the same injection.” 

      Dr Udit Saikia quickly prepared the injection and pushed it into her right lower arm. Sumit was standing anxiously. Dharani Bora was still gripped with fear. After a few minutes, she slowly opened her eyes.

      “Water,” she said.

      Sumit hurried up to the door of the house, which he had thought to be the kitchen. He shook the lock on the door and ran into his own house. With a steel glass, a jugful of water, a matchbox and some candles, he returned almost in next to no time.

      “We’ve been robbed by two men, Daktar-babu. We sheltered them in our house,” she said to Dr Udit Saikia.

      Sumit filled the glass with water from the jug and handed her the glass.

      She sat up and drank the water. “Sumit, sprinkle a little water on his face.”

      Sumit sprinkled water on Dharani Bora’s face, parted his lips with one hand and poured a little water into his mouth. Dharani Bora drank the water and licked his lips as if he wished to drink more water.

      “Don’t give him much,” Dr Udit Saikia said.

      She lovingly placed her right hand on Dharani Bora’s left breast. Dharani Bora gave a sardonic smile and looked at Sumit and Dr Udit Saikia.  Sumit bent close over him. “Do you want to speak something?”

      “Yes,” Dharani Bora said in a whispering voice. “May I sit up?” He looked at Dr Udit Saikia.

      “Yes, why not?” Dr Udit Saikia smiled.

      Dharani Bora sat up. “At noon, while my wife Malati and I were eating rice, there were knocks on the door. I asked Malati to open the door. Just when she opened the door, two young men entered the sitting-room directly, without introducing themselves, and sat on the sofas. Then I was standing behind her. One young man had his hair grown like a hippy’s, and the other had a crew cut. They were the activists of Gana Sangram Parishad. The police were after them. They told us. They wanted shelter for only one night.” Dharani Bora rubbed his eyes. “Sumit, give me a glass of water.”

      Sumit gave him a half glass of water.

      Dharani Bora drank the water and breathed deeply. “We realized they were really in need of shelter. We intently listened to their sad stories and couldn’t but become sympathetic to them. We knew that these people were agitating for the sake of the people of Assam. I remembered the data of the foreign nationals in the State and allowed them to stay the night. They looked very hungry. I asked Malati to go and cook rice for them, as they looked very hungry. They ate rice like very hungry people. I talked to them, about the agitation and felt proud of being able to give shelter to the leaders of Gana Sangram Parishad. Malati, an agitator, did not grumble at the extra labour she had to do for the leaders. In the afternoon, I went to the market, bought a pair of squabs and asked Malati to season the meat with more garlic and onion and less spices and chillies, as the people of Upper Assam usually do not relish spicy and pungent curry. They appreciated the meat curry that was really tasty and full of flavour. They also said that they wouldn’t forget the palatable preparation of masoor daal. They called me Bora-da.” He swallowed. 

      Sumit exchanged looks with Dr Udit Saikia.

      “The long-haired leader appreciated the hospitality at our home. He asked me about my income. They saw the inside of the house. Like close relatives, they exhibited their warm feelings. Malati was greatly impressed. She considered herself lucky that they had come to our house, for shelter, and implored them to drop by whenever they would find time. The long-haired leader’s name was Rajanikanta Khargharia and the crew-haired leader’s Pavan Hazarika.” He moistened his lips and looked at Malati. “Rajani and Pavan entered our bedroom through the door that did not latch well. At first, I failed to identify them. I got utterly discommoded and shouted for Rajani and Pavan’s help. Their faces were masked. A man pointed a revolver at me. The other was holding a dagger. ‘Who are you?’ I shouted. Malati was still sleeping. They took off their masks. ‘Now do you recognize us?’ Rajani said, shifted the revolver to his left hand and vigorously slapped my face. He began to scold and curse me. Malati woke up. She was extremely baffled and behaved as if her voice had been blocked up with fear. ‘You’re bloody traitors,’ I said to them. Then Pavan forcibly pulled me out of the bed. I fell to the floor, with a thud. I stood up, surrendered and implored and implored them not to behave like hooligans. Pavan kicked my behind hard and made me fall on my nose. Then, pressing my bleeding nose, I faced the traitors and began to fight them defensively. I would’ve been able to do something in my defence, if they had not been armed with revolver and dagger. Beating me unconscious, they even didn’t let Malati escape their cruelties. Talking demoniac delight in Malati’s screams, they beat her and dragged her out of the room. Then they made an easy escape with the booty of eighteen thousand rupees and Malati’s bridal ornaments.” He rubbed his eyes again and looked at Malati.