Unencumbered (Part I)

 The clock strikes six and a half.

'Amal, It has been too late. We will not get any place in the Down Gobardanga Local today', I said.

‘Can’t get a place? Hey, Kali Pujo's shopping is going on, they'll push us off the train', Amal replied.

Both laughed at our impending crisis. He has a little knowledge about this crowd because he travels by train from time to time. I have none; I have only heard about the crowds of Bongaon locals, well I will get to see it today.

I am Sudeb, and this is my friend is Amal. We work together in the engineering department of a multinational electronics company. We have special work to do. If a buyer buys a new item and it breaks down, we go to the buyer's home to have it repaired. With acquiring an engineering degree, I thought it would be an honorable job, but that's not happening. Disrespect is more we receive than honor; If people buy something with their money and it breaks down in a few days, they will get furious for sure. So the cyclone and tsunami of their anger, arrogance, and resentment hit us again and again. And, we try to resist it like the great Sundarbans. Usually, the two of us are not sent together, but in this case, they've sent us, because the 'customer' is a little rural. It is important to protect the reputation of our organization in the village. So, two rescuers have been sent.

After finishing our work, we reached Ashoknagar Road Station. We stood in a long ticket line, bought a ticket, and waited for the train. We didn't have to wait for long. A passenger train arrived shortly after. We pushed many sweaty bodies and entered the buggy. The way people boarded the train at the next stations, it seemed that news of sudden destruction or catastrophe has come; and this is the last train to survive.

'Man! It’s too crowded' by saying so Amal pushed the person behind him a little. We were standing side by side so I got to see his fame. Whatever he did, the push created a little breathing space. I still do not understand how people grow up during the festival? Where do they come from? Where do they stay all year round? I thought I would tell Amal what was on my mind, but I didn't want to. After working all day, I am returning home in a state of exhaustion, sore throat. It is better not to talk too much. I just started thinking; we have so many people outside of Kolkata! What a surprise to think.

After a while, it seemed under the influence of some supernatural or physical force the crowd reduced in the Barasat. We got a little space and sat down. Amal got off at the next station because the rest of his way he would travel by bus. I started traveling alone with some strangers in the crowd.

"I don't feel well today, I have to go home and drink a strong tea", I thought to myself. I was thinking all these different thoughts, what to eat, rest a little, my eyes caught a scene in the buggy which took me back fifteen years of my life.

I was not more than fourteen then. We lived in a small, obscure village in Malda. The Farakka Ganges was our daily sight; like the Hughli River is to the people of Calcutta. There weren’t too many people in our village. But it was beautiful. In Bengali, we called it "Sujla Sufla, Shashyashmala".

It was green all around. Although it had a clear presence on the map of the world, it could not make a clear presence in the heart of the people living outside; so that is why it is glittering all around. No smoke! No pollution, nice cool breeze, dew-drenched grass. In the distance, Ganges is entering Bangladesh. I don't know how much water is flowing. Here people see the face of the sun at dawn because this village is still dark.