Sundown

By: Dr Dhrubajyoti Bora

It’d taken a long time for this mind to develop. Gradually, day by day, bit by bit. Now when he looked back, and pondered, he realised he’d completely transformed into another identity. He himself wondered how the last years eventually had shaped him to such a form. Miserable days of the past, the suppressions and oppressions, were the main causes, obviously.

It had been long five years back. The journey along the hilly road was still fresh in his mind. Those earnest desires of vengeance were still lurking in some corner of his heart. And as the dark wandering clouds always accompany a thunderous downpour; he’d carried his year’s long mental agony with him, always. He’d just needed an occasion to burst. And all these were evident in his eyes. In his attitude.

Yeah… it’d been long five years. His upper lip had the faintest shade of a moustache at that time! A lean boy with tanned checks. But with blazing eyes. Now he’d grown up to a muscular, adult man possessing a plethora of energy.

“So Anjan, are you sure you can accomplish the task?’’ – said an old man, whose eyes looked wise and solemn.

“Yeah, – I’ll do it,’’- said Anjan. His voice was firm, without any quiver of uncertainty. No hesitation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll send Pinku with you. We feel better when such difficult task is shouldered upon by two trained men.’’ The man’s words were alluring.

“But I don’t need any help. I can do things myself.’’

“I know, I know, – undoubtedly you’re much superior to Pinku regarding physical stamina and acumen. But I’m thinking to send him for you help. He won’t give you any suggestion or direction, you’ll lead him.’’

The men stood up from his chair, and roamed a few paces inside the room, and paused for a moment. Anjan had spent so many days and months with this man. His was the father of this rebel group. Nobody knew where his home was and who his parents were. Nobody dared ask him. But he was the man who’d trained almost hundred boys to their full potential. So everybody had a deep veneration to him.

The man settled on his seat again.  He rocked his legs on the earthen floor.  Tucked at his long beards gently. Anjan waited for him to speak up.

Anjan knew, this lanky man, though looked benign externally, had a tough mind. He’d numerous stories connected to his nature. He could become extremely heartless if the situation demanded. Once he’d shot his beloved boy who’d tried to escape his place. The incident had happened the year before Anjan had stepped into this secluded, forbidden place, being covered on all sides by dense foliage of big trees. The thirty boys who’d been at that time used to say that he’d not shown any sign of remorse afterwards, though that particular boy had been the most properly trained among all the boys.  Since then, he used to warn every newcomer, – “there is only entry into this place, no exit. Think a hundredth times before you decide to stay here. You’ve still the option to go back. But once you spend a night here you’ll be in our group, forever.’’

The man continued slowly, -”I am arranging a vehicle to take two of you to the site. After disembarking from the vehicle, you’ll have to tread three miles to the north, never leaving the narrow winding rutted lane. It will end near a field. There you will be greeted by a man. The password you’ve to tell that man is zero minus nine. You will spend the night there, at his place. You‘ll have an intervening day on which you can plan the things. And all the tools will be provided by that man. No need to carry them from our camp.’’

Anjan nodded. He felt excited. He’d no fear. Actually he’d long been waiting for this moment. To prove his worthiness. To take revenge on somebody of which he wasn’t certain about. The words by the old man seemed soothing to his ears, as if he’d chanted some mantras and made his heart satisfied!

Next day, as their vehicle sped away from the camp and the small tin huts scattered here and there receded gradually from their view, Anjan recollected that it was the first time he’d undertaken a ride in a vehicle away from this place. Small brisk walks along the hilly secluded trails had been their only mode of entertainment in the evenings. The nights always descended early on this place than usual. As the rushing wind through the windows ruffled his hair, his mind drifted back to the days near the river. His small mud hut by the river. Yeah the same wind before the vast expanse of water mass he’d enjoyed in his childhood. The same freshness.  He’d not seen his parents for five years. Nor had seen his elder brother and sister. He was certain if they saw him right now they’d not recognise him. As the vehicle gained distance from the camp, suddenly, his mind wistfully wanted to be with his parents, his siblings, in and around his small mud hut by the river. He closed his eyes. Their faces rushed back to his mind.

The man who received them near the field was a generous man. He fed them well at night.  He’d been a lone creature in this small hut, away from people. And the next morning, before the east horizon was gleamed with the faintest streak of glow, he woke them up.

Said, “Better to start early. There is a temple at one end of the hill. Sometimes, people go there to offer pujas. I don’t want to get noticed.’’

The weather was windy. The sky had been loaded with layers of fleeting clouds. A faint breeze picked up somewhere and blew over the hill, from time to time. And suddenly it got stronger. Hardly had they walked along the treacherous trails a kilometre it started drizzling, bringing coolness onto the parched hill. The wind blew on their faces. As the time was early, and the weather was windy and rainy, they didn’t meet any human on the way, while coming or going. The man who led them was so swift on the meandering trails that he’d to stop a number of times to allow the inexperienced feet to catch up with him. It took them almost one hour, and by the time they reached the destination site as the man had described, both Anjan and Pinku exchanged curious glances. Seeing their innocent surprised faces a thin smile waved over his face, and he said, “Come here my boys.’’

When Anjan and Pinku adjusted their vision through a clearing of bushes they couldn’t hide their excitement, and shouted, “Oh such a nice place! No need to get cautious. Nobody can see us from here.’’

“Shh…” The man whispered, looking suspiciously all around, “don’t shout! You’re no stupid to shout at this moment!’’

The next morning they started early. But this time their backs were laden with heavy knap sacks. This time, the man didn’t accompany them. He’d just wished them best wishes, and waved goodbye.

When they reached the site, Anjan assembled his tools, and directed the tip the sniper rifle through the clearing. He was confident he would succeed at any cost. He only needed concentration.

Far bellow from the hill, there was a playground half a kilometre away. There was a huge stage at one corner which was supposed to be occupied by his target after sometime. Anjan took his binocular to have a bird’s eye view of the field. He could see rows of red, blue, yellow chairs to accommodate the public. Bunch of police personnel kept vigilance in and around the site.

The place they’d been hiding belonged to the neighbouring state.

They had to wait till the sun was almost on the top of them. Pinku had already lost his patience. He sat on the roots of a large tree a few feet away and munched Kitkats. Both of them had left their cell phones at the man’s house. It’d been his order.

Anjan’s eyes strained. Suddenly the people sitting on their chairs stood up and they gazed in one direction. A faint roar of welcoming applause hit his ears, but Pinku didn’t hear it. Perhaps that commotion was obscured by the rustling leaves as well as the noise of munching inside his mouth. He was busy with his bar. Anjan decided not to inform him lest he should break his concentration.

Anjan waited. Before occupying the seat on the stage the man smiled at his audience, folding and waving his hands.  Just one press on the trigger and the next moment he was a hero! Anjan heard his own breaths. He knew how he would be welcomed and greeted like a hero in the camp, and his bravery would be extolled forever. He narrowed his gaze, thought for a final moment.

But then, a swarm of children climbed up the stage and gathered all around. One hung a garland around his neck. He caressed on their heads and backs, talked to them bowing a little, smiling. The dresses the children wore were dirty, most of them were tattered, but their faces were bright. Not a tinge of unsatisfactory emotion smeared their innocent faces. The man was interacting in a friendly way. Anjan felt his finger froze. Not even a flicker of movement passed over his finger. For some unknown reason he hesitated. No, he’d not been trained up to destroy someone’s hope! Just one press and the man’s life would be ended. But the people of the village would have to face the consequences. The children would lose their dreams, because their names would get stained by the act of someone whom they hadn’t met. That ground being situated in another state wouldn’t raise a suspicion to the people on this side. Never. But they would suffer.

“Done!”, Anjan got up from his prone position.

“What? I’ve not heard the gunshot!” A wide mouthed Pinku rushed closer. He himself took a view through the clearing. The meeting was still going on. Peacefully.

“Finished,” Anjan said, nonchalantly, and wanted to dissemble the sniper rifle.

“Wait,’’- said Pinku with a stern voice, and held one of Anjan’s arm with sufficient force, and yanked away the rifle from his hold.

Anjan decided to back off. He knew what would be the scene after a few seconds. As expected, Pinku slouched on the earth, and looked through the clearing. He aimed the rifle at that direction. Anjan hit his head with a log of wood lying beside. He winced in pain – “you bastard!” His head was bleeding.

Anjan started running. At the fury of being betrayed by his only company Pinku became like a fire ball. Pinku readjusted his position and once looked back to know in which direction Anjan had made his escape. But they were to execute the task. At any cost. Out of excitement, he pressed the trigger, but the bullet hit a bamboo pole of the stage, triggering an immediate ruckus in the field.

The mission failed.

Anjan regretted for having been trained in a rebellious group that had no constructive policies but to kill people. He ran and ran. When Pinku failed, he started running frantically in Anjan’s direction. Pinku had followed him up to some distance, shouting and cursing him, but he abandoned the idea of chasing Anjan further at one point of time when he saw Anjan taking the down a road to enter the neighbouring state.

Three days back, Anjan was near his home. He was weak. His eyes were sunken. His legs were shaking because of lack of strength. Dusk had set in. He heard some indistinct conversation coming from inside. Someone laughed out loud. Nobody now missed him. He was forgotten by his parents, by his siblings. He waited for sometime near the plinth of the house. The house remained the same all these years. He tiptoed a little closer to the bamboo door in the backyard. He knew electricity had been out for quite some time. It had been a regular scene since his childhood. A faint reddish glow shone inside. Without raising any sound he peeped through a crack of the door. He was lucky that he’d seen the faces of his parents. They looked much older now. The next thing came to his view was a thin man’s hand. It was definitely his elder brother’s. Then he heard a womanly voice. It was definitely his grown up sisters voice. But to go further, to look further, to strike a conversation after a long time and to make them startled by his sudden reappearance seemed futile as well as unnecessary now. He’d been lost for five years; he’d not thought even for once how his family had gone through in those tough days. Now they’d been well accustomed with his absence. Now his presence would bring trouble to the family.

After waiting there for sometime like a statue, Anjan disappeared in the setting darkness of the ensuing night.

Three years later, when Anjan was about to enter his rented house after coming from a factory after doing the work of a labourer, he felt a chilly touch of a gun at the nape of his neck, and a voice whispered into his ears from his back,- “You’ve ruined my life. All these times I’ve been searching for you. My life has become hell because of you. I can neither go to my family nor to the camp again, nobody would trust me.”

Anjan felt a piercing pain at his neck and total darkness came over his eyes in a split of second.