Nikhil Khasnabish

(Sumit faces student agitators who want others to join their procession. He disagrees with their attitude and is concerned about Dolly getting involved. Dolly is Sumit’s lover. Caught between his responsibilities and his feelings, he worries about the future of the youth and the growing unrest.)

Sumit went to the school and entered the office. Diganta was grumpily sitting in the office. Sumit did not expect Diganta there at that time.

      “Mr Bose, I’m leaving. I think you’ll discuss something important.” Glancing at Sumit, Diganta went out.

      “Why did he come here?” Sumit asked Ansuman.

      “He came to tell that some boys and girls will come to our school tomorrow, to take our pupils to the procession.” Ansuman swallowed.

      Sumit felt the blood pound in his ears. He got puzzled. What he should he tell him now? Ansuman was clearly discomfited. “What do you want to do now, Ansuman?”

      “I’m extremely perplexed. The agitators are adamant to compel our pupils to join their procession.”

      “I won’t tell you anything about this. You’re the headmaster. You may take any decision you like,” Sumit said. Ansuman nervously lit a cigarette and passed the pack to Sumit. There were slogans in the distance. Sumit lit a cigarette.

      Ansuman padded to the veranda. “Sumit, come here and listen to the slogans.”

      Sumit followed Ansuman and stood on the veranda. Ansuman was pensively pacing the veranda, lowering the head. Sumit repeatedly dragged on the cigarette. What should he do now? Should he leave Ansuman alone? He would feel insecure if left alone. He couldn’t still understand Assamese well. Sumit went up to Ansuman and touched his right arm joint. Ansuman looked at Sumit, and his eyes were laden with questions and doubts. “Don’t worry, Ansuman.” The procession crossed the turning of the road.

      “Why are they coming today? Did the poet misinform me?”

      “Let them come. I’ll face them,” Sumit said decisively and entered the office with Ansuman and sat down.

      “Aah, Oi aah!”

      “Olai aah!”

      “Jadi hao Ahamiya!”

      “Hengdang loi olai aah!

      “Jai Aai Aham!”

      “Jai Aai Aham!”

      “Hadou Aham Chatra Hantha!”

      “Zindabad! Zindabad!”

      “Hadou Aham Chatra Hantha!”

      “Zindabad! Zindabad!”

      “Jai Aai Aham!”

      “Jai Aai Aham!’

      “Jai Aai Aham!”

      “Jai Aai Aham!”

      “Jai Aai Aham!”

      “Jai Aai Aham!”

      “They’re shouting the slogans before the school, with full gusto, throwing their arms in the air,” Ansuman said and remained looking out of the window. 

      “I think I have to buy earplugs.”

      A few young boys came out of the procession and walked into the school campus and entered the office without any formalities.

      “I think you’re the headmaster,” one tall boy asked Ansuman.

      “Yes, I am.”

      “May I know why you’ve come here?” Sumit asked.

      “We want the pupils of this school to join us,” he said.

      Sumit did not like his authoritative voice. “They won’t join you. They’re too young to understand your politics,” Sumit said and stared into his eyes.

      “What? Our politics?”

      “Yes. Your politics.”

      The other boys moved close to Sumit and Ansuman. Though they did not say anything, they also seemed determined to take the pupils to the procession. Sumit feigned as though he did not mind their presence at all.

      “We want to take the pupils with us. So you’re requested to dismiss the classes,” the tall boy said to Ansuman.

      “The pupils of Sunjuri English School will not go with you and join the procession,” Sumit said, boosting his voice with authority.

      “Who has allowed you to speak between the headmaster and me? You aren’t even a teacher here. Let the pupils take their decisions themselves. I ask you not to be intrusive. If you become intrusive, the consequences will not be in your favour.”

      “I don’t like to talk to an arrogant idiot. Now clear off!”

      “Talk sense, you boycotted Professor,” the tall boy said.

      Sumit stood up and, failing to keep a curb on his surging rage, stood close to the smells of his breath, trembling and scowling. He glanced at the other boys. They were standing silently. Sumit recognized some of them. Grasping the shoulder of the tall boy, he shook him and spluttered, “My dear Boy, you haven’t learned civic rhetoric yet. I advise you to do your agitation without the SES pupils. We can’t allow these pupils to spoil their future and cheat their parents.”  The tall boy eyed Sumit angrily and released his shoulder from his grasp.

      “We’ll see you in time. Let’s go!” the tall boy said and turned to his friends. 

      The boys pounded out of the room, with minatory gestures. Sumit went near the window and looked out. He looked for Dolly and Romola, and did not find them. He returned to his chair. He felt anxious. It was a premonitory sign of some troubles. “What should we now, Ansuman?” 

      Ansuman gave him a blank look.

      Sangita Barua, who was standing on the veranda with the other teachers, entered the office with them and said to Sumit, “Sir, I think it’ll be better for us to join the agitation.”

      Sumit lit a cigarette, and, holding the glowing matchstick before his eyes, he continued observing it meditatively for some time. He threw the matchstick away when it had been extinguished. “I think I shouldn’t interfere. Mr Bose and you’ll take your decisions after discussion. You should do what you think right.” He went out of the office. He looked around, then hurried out of the campus so that nobody could ask him anything more. He headed toward his college.

*

Sumit lay on bed. He did not sleep. He remained lying supinely. He would ask Ansuman not to panic. He rolled right and embraced the body pillow. Where had the faces of the freedom fighters of Assam gone? He would forget even the title of his thesis if he lived in that atmosphere long. Dolly was also responsible for his anxieties. Had he done anything wrong, falling in love with her? If he had known her to be a would-be agitator before, he would’ve restrained himself. Are the beautiful women born to squeeze the minds of men? He shouldn’t jest about Ansuman’s inability to forget his Mitali. Only a lover knows a lover’s mind well. It won’t be easy for him now to forget Dolly. Wasn’t she made for him? Why had she joined the agitation? He would try to wane her from it. He sighed deeply. He closed his eyes and slept. After a little sleep, he woke up. Ansuman was on the veranda. “Did you cancel the classes, Ansuman?” Sumit asked aloud.

      “Yeah.”

      Sumit got up, stood before the life-size mirror, mopped his face with the towel, fingered his rumpled hair and emerged. Ansuman was wearing a look of anxiety. Sumit gave him a smile and withdrew into the bathroom. He urinated. He washed up. He towelled his body. He looked in the mirror on the wall. The agitators were becoming more aggressive and united after the Central Government’s stern measures against them, all over the State. The situation was also worsening at Sunjuri, like in the State. The agitation became more concerted. He gave up the plan of his trip to Guwahati. He wiped his nose on the towel and came out.