Nikhil Khasnabish

(“The Threat” depicts the time of the Assam Movement. Sumit is threatened by supporters of the Assam Movement because he opposes it. At night, he sees two people emerging from Dharani Bora’s house and disappearing into the darkness. He starts inquiring about it.)

Sumit was home alone. He took supper early and went to bed. Lying on bed, he was listening to the news on the BBC. He did not rely much on the news about Assam, broadcast by the Indian stations and did not believe the invented stories passed as news in the papers of Assam. He turned down the volume of the transistor. Those who were in cahoots with the Government published news, suppressing the atrocities committed on the agitators and their supporters, and, on the other hand, those supporting the agitation published news and invented stories of atrocities, which, in his opinion, were just boosters. There was pitiable erosion in the Assamese intelligentsia. He felt his voice silenced. He couldn’t go to the college. Their neighbours didn’t talk to him. The shopkeepers of the town behaved toward him rudely, following the instructions of the agitation leaders. But he would never surrender to the agitators. He would stand any pressure and defamation. He would not swerve even an inch from what he believed to be true. The agitation grew violent. The agitators blamed all sorts of violence on the agents of the Central Government. The agitators circulated that he would be attacked at night, at their home. Was that a rumour? Maybe the situation of the State made him mentally feeble. So he started to believe even the rumours. He fell asleep. He woke up at midnight and needed to urinate. The barn-owls screeched in the mango tree and broke the silence of the night. He picked up the torch from the sides of the pillows and got out of bed and went to the veranda. He opened the grilled door of the veranda. A fruit bat noisily flew from the banana palm. He went to the bathroom. He came back into bed. The mice were freely scampering in the room. He switched on the bedside lamp. The fat cat was sleeping near his feet, snug as a bug in a rug. It didn’t feel the need to catch the mice. He switched off the light and closed his eyes. Now a loud cry issued from Dharani Bora’s house opposite theirs. He sat up on the bed and cocked his ears. No sounds! He got out of bed, opened the window and stood by it. The cool breeze carried the tomcat’s non-stop mews to his ears, from the house. He went to the veranda. A fear raced through his whole body. He threw his arms in the air. 

      Two people emerged from Dharani Bora’s house and disappeared into the darkness. 

      Sumit ran up to Dharani Bora’s house and stood before Dharani Bora’s bedroom. He knocked on the door. Why didn’t the door open? He kicked the door. The tomcat slowly came out and arched its back. He started kicking the door again hard so that he could prop it open. The door opened! He glanced up at the starry sky through the open of the back door, entered the room and stumbled over somebody on the floor. Was it Dharani Bora? Sumit bent over him and caught hold of his hand and took his pulse. There was something clammy like blood on his upper left arm and cheek. He shouldn’t waste even a single moment. He should call in a doctor immediately. He came out and began to run toward the house of Dr Udit Saikia. Running about one kilometre, he thought to take the short cut and turned. He tripped over a boulder and fell forward. He rose quickly. He did not stop. Dew and the dewy earth stuck to his feet. He slowed down. Some young boys magically emerged out of the silent night and stopped him.

      “Who are you?”

      “My name is Sumit Barkataki.”

      “Who’s Sumit Barkataki? The Summit of Sunjuri College?”

      “Who’re you? What are you doing here at night?” 

      “We remain awake at night, to organize our people secretly, so that the people like you can’t report us to the police.”  

      The bloody raffish youths. Sumit moved past them. The youths burst out giggling and began to rain blows on him, all of a sudden. Sumit jumped into the nearby pond and dived and hid himself under the water hyacinths and remained silent under the bitterly cold water. The youths agitatedly looked for him for a while, walking along the bank, and went away. After a few minutes, Sumit emerged from under the hyacinths, with dripping water, and looked around, standing under a tree near the pond. When he made sure that the youths were gone, he started running speedily. He reached Dr Udit Saikia’s house, recovered his breaths, and, standing in front of the gate, called aloud, “Dr Saikia. Hello, Dr Saikia! Hello! Hello, Dr Saikia!” He shook the grill gate with force. A watchful dog barked from inside the house. It angrily came near him, barking. With a view to waking the people of the house, he gestured to the dog and provoked it to bark more loudly. He also coughed loud to make the people of the house aware of his presence.

      “Who’s it?” Dr Udit Saikia shone the torch through the window of his room, toward the gate.

      “I’m Sumit Barkataki, Dr Saikia.”

      “Why at this time of the night?”

      “For a serious patient, I’ve come to you. You have to go with me now, Dr Saikia.”

      “It’s almost midnight. There’s no light either.”

      “Yet you have to take the trouble for the sake of the patient. It’s my request. Most earnest request, Dr Saikia.”

      Now Dr Udit Saikia came out and shone the torch on him. “Mr Barkataki, you don’t look right. What has happened to you?”

      I’m okay, Dr Saikia. Please take your car and save a life.” Sumit clasped Dr Udit Saikia’s hands. The dog gently came near Sumit’s feet, sniffed at him and twirled its tail.

      “Would you like to sit inside?”

      “No. Thank you.”

      “Just a minute.” Dr Udit Saikia went in.