She Won't Reveal(5)

AShe Won’t Reveal (5) 

Nidhu Bhusan Das

The next evening while I was in chat with Anu at her bungalow in the absence of Nilu, I couldn’t but remember Albert Einstein who said,” Be a loner. That gives you time to wonder, to search for the truth. Have holy curiosity. Make your life worth living.”Anu appeared to be a confirmed loner and wise in her unique way, and in search of a truth. I asked her if it’s possible for me to have communion with my departed mother as she has claimed to have with her grandma. She smiled primly and related a story. She said one Sujata Dhar, a colleague now at the LIC told her the story. Actually, by the by, I had told her I would visit my senior friend Professor Swapan Sanyal in Guwahati on my way back to Kolkata.”What is he?” she asked.” He is a Prof of Parapsychology at Guwahati University,” I told her.” How do you know him?” she wanted to know.” He’s from Kolkata, and was our neighbour,”I said. She smiled.” Do you know him?” I asked, hesitating.”I have been told of someone of such an identity. My colleague who was my classmate at JNU told me about the professor. They came to know each other as co-passengers during a train journey,” she said, casually.

 She began like an ace story teller. It all began on the Delhi-Dibrugarh Town Rajdhani Express. Professor Swapan Sanyal boarded the train at New Delhi station at 1.30 p.m. on A/C three-tier coach no. A 4. He had the lower berth. The departure time was 2 p.m. Passengers were busy boarding. There were bustles in the coach with people looking for their berths and taking possession. A lanky girl with gold rimmed spectacles in jeans found her berth and sat beside Prof. Sanyal with all humility. Her eyes were sharp and dreamy. Prof. Sanyal was reading the JP Journal of Parapsychology published from Rhine Research Centre, Durham, North Carolina, USA. The girl showed interest and peered through her spectacles at the cover visible in the hand of the reader.

The train left on time. Passengers were well settled on the lower berths for now. Some were talking, some were reading newspapers, magazines or books, and some were busy with laptops, tabs or mobile phones. Only the girl was seen to be without such busyness. Her gaze was on the journal in the hand of Prof. Sanyal and a heap of books beside him. The books included Best Evidence by Michael L. Schmicker, Parapsychology: The Controversial Science by Richard S. Broughton, An Introduction to Parapsychology by H.J. Irwin and paranormal romance Dark Lover (Black Dagger Brotherhood) by J.R. Ward. The girl was aware of the books and the journal. She, in fact, read most them for exam at JNU. She became curious but dared not disturb Prof.Sanyal who was engrossed in his study. She decided she would talk to the scholarly man in his late fifties. His broad head was covered with grey hair, eyes under spectacles looked piercing and brows were heavy. She thought she would get the chance when coffee and snacks would be served a couple of hours from now. It would be nice if the elderly co-passenger travel most of nearly 39 hour-journey of the train. They boarded the train on 16 May 2013, Saturday and she would disembark at Guwahati on Sunday midnight. Her office car would be there to take her to the residence. She was thinking of the paranormal, and the time sped by.

Meanwhile, she began to doze and went into a cat-nap. She was awakened by the call of the waiter for coffee and snacks. She went to the basin to wash and came back quickly. She found the elderly man sipping coffee. Taking her cup of coffee she in a low tone said to the co-passenger: “Sir, are you a man of parapsychology?” The gentleman, did off his spectacles, looked up, gazed at her, smiled and said,” Yes, this is my subject.”

“Are you in teaching, sir?” she asked.

“Yes, at Guwahati University,” he said.

“I studied parapsychology,” she informed.

“Where?” asked the man.

“At JNU, sir,” she replied.

“Then you may know Professor Durjhati Chaudhury,” he said.

“He was our teacher, sir,” she said.

“Prof Chaudhury is my friend,” he said, beaming.

“Is it? Then you must be a great professor. May I know your name, sir?” she was curious.

“Swapan Sanyal,” he said.

“O my God! You’re a Bengali. I’m so happy,” she exclaimed.

“You’re from…….,” he wanted to know.

“From Kolkata. Now I live in Guwahati,” she said.

“Perhaps, on job,” he asked.

“Yes sir, I’m an LIC officer.”

“You’re promising.”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Your name?”

“Sujata Dhar, sir.”

“Beautiful name, mom. The very name suggests you are from a noble family.”

 “But, sir, I can’t approve of Mom,” she said smiling.

“Can’t you accept me as your son?” he asked, a bit put out.

”Yes, you’re my son. But I’m your MAA, not mom.”

“Oh! That’s your point. Okay, MAA. I’ll be happy to call you MAA.”

“Now, why do you feel I’m your MAA?”

“You’re like my MAA who passed away five years from now after a tragic incident,” he said in a choked voice, eyes clouded with tears.

Sujata couldn’t hold back her tears perceiving the turbulence in the elderly professor who outwardly appeared to be strong willed and dry of emotions.

The conversation couldn’t proceed further. The professor appeared to be not in a mood to continue with his pain. He was again engrossed in his reading. Sujata now tried to understand how parapsychology might have been an area of his satisfaction being able to be in communion with his departed mother through it. Here she found a likeness between him and her. Though more than twice her age, she felt the call MAA ringing in her ears. She knew she would never marry and be a mother, yet the very sweet call MAA set her stirring. She could be in link with her departed mother through this medium. The loss of the mother was irreparable to her. She had none in the physical world around to communicate with now in the mother’s absence, to share her feelings and problems, to seek and get advice. This is her tragic situation. In the past the mother provided solace and empathetic advice when she was in serious emotional troubles. She remembered how the persuasions of the mother helped her alter the decision to leave the world at a tender age. It’s in consultation with the mother, she decided to live a virgin life, even away from father.

The professor closed the journal after about an hour, and looked at her with affection. He brought out dried dates and raisins from his bag and asked her to share. She did. “Is it your first posting, MAA?” he asked. “Yes, sir,”she said. “No, no, not sir, call Chhele (son),” he reacted. “Okay baba, you’re my chhele. Are you happy, now?” she showed filial pity.

“Why did they post you in the north-east? They don’t have sense and sensibility,” he commented.

“No sir, I opted,” she said.

“Naughty MAA, why such option?”

“You won’t understand, son. I want to be far away.”

“What for, MAA?”

“I’d tell you one day,” she assured, suggesting that she would like to continue with the relation beyond the journey.

Then they talked about Delhi, Kolkata and Guwahati. Her interest was concentrated on Guwahati. She said she would like to have a home in a secluded place in the Assam Himalaya.

Dinner over, she arranged the bed for the professor and asked him to lie down.”No more study, son. It’s time for you to sleep,” she said authoritatively. She herself climbed the middle berth above him, and told him to call her if and when he would go to the bathroom.” Son, don’t move alone. Call me,” she said. The light was switched off. The mom-son interaction ceased for now. But both of them went to sleep ruminating over the heavenly relation that emerged between them. Maybe, they had sweet dreams on it.

The train was yet to traverse half the distance when most of the passengers were out of bed. Sujata helped the professor when it was time for tea and breakfast, like an affectionate mother taking care of her little child. Prof. Sanyal couldn’t understand how this little girl could have so intense a mother in her in a while.”Son, take the biscuit and tea,” she said to the professor, affectionately.”Won’t you, maa?” he asked, overwhelmed.

“Son, when do you rise in the morning, usually?” she asked.

“At 6.”

“Do you have bed-tea?”

“No. it’s not possible.”

“Why, son?”

“I live alone.”

“Your family?”

“I’m my family.”

“Son, I’m sorry, so sad,” she said, taken aback.

“No, maa, how would you know I’m without a family, and why?”

“But it’s sad, son.”

“I’d tell you, maa.”

The train was racing like a jet. After breakfast the professor began to pour out his mind. He said, after he had joined as a lecturer in the Psychology Department of Guwahati University, his mother decided his girl friend and batch mate at Calcutta University Kavita Chakravorty would be his partner-in-life. In fact, the two families had agreed in the union, and a date, 25th Baishakh 1390(9^th May) was fixed for the wedding. A week from the wedding, a tragedy struck Prof Sanyal when way back from shopping Kavita,in a car crash on G.T. Road died on the spot. He got the news in the newspapers next morning. He along with his mother rushed to their house immediately and found the family in mourning. Stunned, he decided he would never marry. He still wears the ring-in-benediction in memory of Kavita. His mother died within five years of the tragedy, mourning with her son all the years the death of Kavita.

With choked voice and tearful eyes, the professor said,” I’m in communion with Kavita and my mother, always.”

“Is it?” asked Sujata.

“Yes, and my mother is with Kavita. They’re together as mother-in-law and daughter-in-law,” he claimed, smiling sadly.

“Are they happy?” I asked.

“They always smile on me,” he said, with confidence.

The story appeared to be a meta-fiction or a fact-in-fiction.

“Who’s Sujata other than Anusuya?” I asked the story teller.

“You mean impersonation?” she shot back and began to talk on the chill of the night.(continued on 27 February 2014)