Nikhil Khasnabish

(“The Nobel Efforts of Anshuman” depicts Ansuman’s efforts to keep SES school open during bandhs, helping to build peace, resilience, and strong academics in a time of violence.)

It was evening. Sumit was slowly walking back home from the market. He had bought the woolly hat for Parag Barkataki and the muffler for himself, at a very cheap rate. A few young boys stood in front of him and made an obstruction on the road, with their bicycles. He recognized Naren and Madan among the boys. “What’s this?”

      “Don’t you see what this is?” a boy answered and burst out giggling.

      “What do you want from me?” Sumit lifted his voice. 

      “We want your support to the agitation.” Madan stepped forward.

      “Can you extract it like money from me?”

      “We know the technique of how to extort something we want.” Naren was standing in the darkness of the lamppost.

      “You are crossing all limits. I say it won’t be any good for you. So back off!”

      The boys laughed out derisively. Sumit moved forward. Leaving their bicycles near the lamppost, the boys quickly made a ring around Sumit. “You are purposely trying to quarrel with me.” Sumit looked around. Why didn’t the passers-by stop to help him? A boy jabbed at Sumit’s right rib with something hard, then grasped the button-down collar of his shirt. They were aggressive. Sumit jumped from the road and began to run away. The streetlights suddenly went off. The boys began to run after Sumit as if with revenge. They caught him within minutes and began to punch blows in his face, kick his body and beat him with their belts. Sumit fell to the ground. The boys left him to himself and victoriously went away.

*

Sumit woke up at night and fumbled around him, for the muffler and the woolly hat. He opened his eyes. There was dim light in the room. He felt the bed with his hands and failed to recognize his own room for a few moments. He moaned loud.

      Jonali Barkataki lifted the mosquito-net and bent over him. 

      “M…m…m…a?”  

      She wiped the drops of tears off his cheeks, nose and lips. 

      “Don’t worry, Ma! I won’t succumb to any such things.”

      She sat by him on the bed and began to run her soothing hands over his forehead, temples and chest. He caught hold of her hands and placed them on his forehead. “Ma, you’ve touched me with your soothing hands full of blessings. Now I don’t fear any dangers.” He tried to laugh. He was so badly wounded on his left flank that he could not roll left and felt the pain sweeping over him, in waves. “Ma, I’ll sleep. Don’t remove your hand until I fall asleep.”

      “I won’t go. Sleep happily.” She was fingering his hair. 

      He shut his eyes and soon fell asleep. He woke up. He looked up at the ventilator. Morning. “Ma, Ma! Where are you, Ma?”               

      Romola entered the room. “Ma is in the kitchen.”

      He closed his eyes. “You get out of my room. I don’t want to see your face. I hate you. I hate the agitators.”

      Ansuman stepped in. He sat on the bed.

      She went out.

      “I’ll go to school and keep it open.” Ansuman touched the wound on his left cheek.

      “I think you better play it cool. See how atrocious the agitators are.”

      “I’ve taken it as a challenge.”

      “Should you speak like this?”

      “I think I shouldn’t because it’s not my home State. I won’t indulge the barbarous boys. Sumit, I can’t sit here silently.”

*

Ansuman circulated an order to all the teachers to attend the school even if there were bandhs and obstructions. He mentioned in his order that the courageous and sincere teachers will be highly appreciated by him and the members of the managing board. Most pupils remained punctually present at the school. Seeing that, the agitators and their supporters grew mad with fury. They began to issue warnings to the headmaster for deterring him from running the school and, failing in their attempts, became more furious. All the pupils took examinations even in the days of Assam bandh in December. Ansuman called the police to patrol the campus so that the antagonistic agitators could not come in and disturb the pupils taking examinations. The SES pupils were not harassed outside the campus though warnings and nameless letters in obscene words were addressed to some of their parents. Can’t we take any actions against them? Ansuman sought Sumit’s advice. Who will take action? We can neither have recourse to law in these lawless conditions nor be hooligans like them. Silence is our only weapon. I ask you not to react to what these scoundrels do and say, Sumit said. Though the students completed their examinations in the midst of disturbances, their performances were satisfactory. Admissions started. The new classes began. January became an extraordinarily busy month for SES. In the New Year, the pupils attended the school with fresh fervour, not caring about what was happening outside the school. The SES pupils were envied by the pupils of other schools in the town since they were considered higher in several ways. It seemed as though SES was situated in a solitary island surrounded by an atmosphere of erratic and violent activity and ruled by an absolute monarch named Peace. Bandhs, pickets and all such things could not penetrate the shield of Ansuman’s administration there. Sumit put The Telegraph on the centre table and rose from the sofa.