ANNUAL CONFERENCE 2004

(Mumbai, 6th & 7th September, 2004)

The "Holy" Day

- A short story
By Amitabha Bandopadhaya
Supdt of Customs, Kolkata

It was 7th March, 04 and I was returning along with my family from New Delhi by Radhani Express. We were here to attend the marriage of one of my cousins as well as the Holi of north India. Today was the day of Holi. After a breakfast of laddoos and vang-mixed lassi I spent the day with my relatives drenched with gulal and other colours of the festival, then we spent the afternoon to remove them. After a hurried lunch I started along with my family for the train and while climbing down the stairs of the over-bridge with our luggage I could hear the announcement rising above the din of the hawkers and coolies of the platform, "Nau number platform se Kalkatta janewali Radhani Express ab se kuch hi samay par khulgi" and instantly the red-eyed hanging digital clock of the platform caught my notice which was denoting the time scheduled for the departure of the train. Tough my teenage children managed to keep the same pace as me, I become tensed as my wife was yet to climb down the stairs of the over-bridge. While lugging a heavy suitcase I took out the ticket and asked a coolie about the position of the coach who pointed at the last coach of the train. Meanwhile the engine blow the final whistle and I saw the guard waving his green flag to start the train. At this, we all started running and with much effort could board at the eleventh hour.

The train was speeding up and we were all panting but laughing till the train crossed Tilak Bridge to celebrate the success of our catching the train. After a while I become absorbed in a magazine but I could hear my children exchanging pleasantries with their mother of the memorable week they had spent. They were also describing this morning's experience of the festival of colours-how they could save themselves, hide themselves to avoid different liquid colours including cow-dung solution, what strategies they made so on and so forth. Meanwhile, tea and snack were being served. And I saw my children chucking with their mother on some issues relating to the marriage, we attended. I was sipping the tea prepared by my wife, our co-passengers were gossiping in low voices. In short, seemingly there was an ambience of happiness and security round the country of the air-conditioned coach.

It was ten o'clock in the night-the train was running in its full swing with a ceaseless mechanical sound. After the dinner, my wife and children were fast asleep. I was reading a novel putting on the bed lamp thus making myself ready for a sound sleep.

My next day break occurred when the train after decelerating its speed made a sudden halt at Gaya. I climbed down from my upper berth and sat beside the double-glassed tinted window. I saw my daughter sitting opposite to me who smiled me a good morning and asked, "Papa, is it Bihar?" I nodded in response.

It was an early dawn and seemingly chill outside. There was noting much to see on the platform as we were at the extreme end. It was almost desolate save the presence of a huge neem tree replete with the chirping of hundred of birds which shadowed an equally empty bench under it. All of a sudden I saw a young and attractive girl come running and sat on the bench under the neem tree. The girl appeared to be out of her breath and was gasping heavily. Within a moment I found that the girl was surrounded by six motorcycle-ridden youths. All the motorcycles were made to stand keeping the engines on. And to my horror I witnessed along with my daughter that all the boys who had darkly coloured faces with lecherous looks pounced on the girl with a plea of, "Holi hai bhai Holi hai, bura na mano Holi hai ---," they screamed. The girl was trying her best to keep her chastity intact keeping her arms across herself. But the inebriated goons firstly took out her white dupatta and flung it in the air. Then the scoundrels started molesting and conducting her and finally lay her on the bench. In the melee I could see the face of the hapless girl who was shouting at the top of her voice and struggling to get rid of those rascals. At this horrific scene we became so bewildered and before I could do anything the train started off.

..... The train was accelerating its speed and I was sitting face-to-face with my young daughter though I could not dare to stare at her pensive and grave face. Perhaps we were the only eye-witness of that nefarious and diabolic act.. At about 6am newspapers were being served to all the passengers of the coach, many of them were, however, yet to get up. My daughter took up the newspaper and started reading with a gloomy face and suddenly she exclaimed "Pappa, do you know today is 8th March and it is International Women's Day"....

I pretended to be unmindful before my little girl as if I did not listen to her because I had no courage to answer. To evade the answer I was minutely watching through the glass windows to fleeting glimpses of hillock, green paddy fields and small rivers. But I knew that my little daughter was staring at me, perhaps to make out the helpless and consciences mitten face of her father. The simply and puerile question of my daughter, "Pappa, do you know it is International women's day" teamed up my anxious mind. The words appeared to bear an uncanny intimacy and captivation with the ceaseless rhythm of the train. It seemed that all the silence of the world had plunged into our compartment, impairing me even further. Only the grotesque mélange of the rhythms remained. It went on and on, mocking at me like a hilarious jester until it engulfed the morbid silence of our compartment, leaving me alone to seek its vestiges.