We and Our Lives

We, trapped in " Cycle "

The Puppets are back.......

For a few days, I took a break from the puppets. Actually, I was working on improving the look of the comics. So here they are.............all new. I am no more using MS Paint. These new images are formed in the OpenCanvas Software. I hope you like it.........

Please let me know...........

Rahul, this is for you........... I never stopped my Webcomic and I really appreciate the fact that you like it...........

The Re-Incarnation of Bablu Ghatak

Hello.

My name is Prakash Roy. I am a thirteen year old boy. Thirteen is considered to be unlucky by many. But the thirteenth year of my life has not been unlucky for me; rather it has been a lot confusing.

I am a student of class seven at the St. Xaviers’ school. My father is the owner of a finance farm and my mother is a home-maker. We live in New-Alipore. Being the only child of my parents, I often have to suffer a lot of cuddling and various kinds of restrictions, which, I might add, are completely unnecessary and sometimes, incorrigible.

I love playing cricket. My favorite cricketer is Sachin Tendulkar. I also love listening to music and watching films. But I am not permitted to go and watch films with my friends. When I ask my mother the reason, she simply tells that I am too young to be on my own. She is obviously wrong, but who is to make her realize that? Even my father sides with her on this issue and a hundred issues like this. “Don’t do this”, “Don’t do that”, “Don’t eat street food”……………. I am really fed up.

I am good in studies and my nickname is Pintu. Well, this is more or less all that could be said about me. Oh yes, I forgot one more thing.

I might also be Bablu Ghatak. Confused? So am I.

Every day, when I go to the bus-stand for catching the school-bus, I see a lady standing at the footpath opposite our house. She keeps looking at me. Her eyes keep following me. When, I return from my school, I see the lady standing at the same place, as if waiting for me to return. She does nothing, says nothing, and just keeps looking at me. Believe me, its creepy. However, I do not see her, when I go out with my friends to the nearby park to play cricket. Maybe, by that time she returns to her own place.

Actually, I have been seeing her for the last three years. Later on, I had come to know that she has been there, watching me for the last eight years. When I first started seeing her there on the pavement, my mother used to accompany me to the bus-stand at that time. After a few days, I got a little freaked out and asked my mother about the lady. My mother just gave me an uneasy smile and asked me to ignore her. I was not convinced. However, since that lady never ever did anything or said anything, she was easy to ignore and I started ignoring her. But, my eyes always turned to her for some little instant of time, no matter how little the instant may be. Whenever, I used to look at her, her crooked lips curved a bit, to give an impression of something like a smile.
Years passed away. Gradually, I became used to her. She used to come even on holidays. Now, she was more like a lamp-post. However, lamp-posts do not smile back at you and their bulbs do not keep following your direction. I was so used to her, that I used to feel uneasy on the days when she did not come. All my friends knew about her and joked about the whole thing. However, they never approached the lady.

A little problem arose when I was in class seven. That is, in my thirteenth year.

This may sound cinematic, but I started to feel that I have seen the lady somewhere before. The idea was so stupid, that I myself condemned it and never told anyone anything about it. “Of-course you have seen her. She has been around here for the last three years. You have being seeing her every day.” I rebuked myself on my stupidity. However, the feeling refused to go out of my mind, no matter how hard I tried. In fact, the uneasiness kept increasing. Soon, the whole thing started irritating me. I started behaving rudely with everyone and became irritable. But, my behavior was referred to as being normal for a teenager boy. My behavior was supposed to be like what it was due to the effect of hormones.

What crap!!

One day, when I woke up, my father told me that my mother was ill and was taking rest. I rushed to her. She had turned pale. She turned her head towards me with great difficulty and somehow, managed a smile. My eyes filled up with tears. I asked her to take rest and assured her that she will be all right in no time at all.

My father had asked me to get a medicine for my mother. I went to the nearby medical shop and bought the medicine. While returning, suddenly, I saw the lady. As usual, she was looking at me. But, today something was different.

She was laughing! She was shaking with laughter. Her eyes were on me. It seemed something really good must have happened for her. However, I was in a terrible mood. And, this was the limit for me.

I marched to her.

“What the hell are you laughing about?” I demanded.

I had feared that the lady would just tell me that it was none of my business. Instead, she asked me something, which I had least expected from her.

“Who are you taking the medicine for? Is your mother ill?”

I was taken aback. But, I recomposed myself quickly and said, “Yes, she is ill. But, how does that bother you? You don’t know any of us.”

She suddenly stopped laughing. Her facial expressions changed totally. Her eyes filled up with tears. Then she asked me another strange question, “Do you know what day is it?”

“It is 12th of August.”

She started crying. But, somehow, she managed to control herself and told me, “This is the day you had died Bablu, almost fourteen years back. Ask your parents about this. They will tell you. Now, go.”

I was about to say something to her but, she went away. I stood there like a fool. Who the hell was Bablu? I had never even heard of such a name. And what was that crap about me dying? Was I a ghost of myself? Surely, this woman was mad. But, one thing kept troubling me. My feelings that I had seen her somewhere had never subsided and today, the feeling was strongest. One more thing, I could not entirely disbelieve the rubbish she had just told me. “Am I going mad?” I asked myself.

I went back to my home. That day, I didn’t ask anyone anything. In fact, I did not raise the question for the entire week as my mother was still recovering from her illness.
Next week, on the Sunday afternoon, I approached my mother.

“Ma, can I ask you something?”

She looked up at me with surprise. “What is it beta?”

“Ma, do you know anything about the woman, who stands and looks at me every day?”

She looked surprised and uneasy at the same time. “Why do you ask this?”

“Please Ma, if you know something, please tell me. For the last few years, that woman has been observing me. But, she has no relationship with us whatsoever. And that day………….”

“Which day?” mother interrupted me. Her voice was tense.

“The day you fell ill. 12th August.”

“Did she say anything to you?” her voice was panicking.

I was surprised by my mother’s reaction. I said, “No Ma, she didn’t say anything. She just hinted that you know about her. That is why, I decided to ask you.” I intentionally did not say anything about “Bablu”.

My mother kept looking at me for a long time. She seemed to be making up her mind on something. I waited. Finally, she spoke.

“Okay Pintu. Perhaps it is better if you know the truth. Fourteen years ago, your dad had bought his first car. He already knew driving, and he insisted that he would teach me. I was thrilled. So I started learning. Everything was going well, until that fateful day came. 12th August.” She paused for a moment. Then she continued.

“That day, I was driving in the neighborhood. Your father was beside me. Suddenly, I don’t know from where that kid came. It was entirely my fault. I panicked and could not control the car, and crashed into the boy. It happened so quickly, that your father could do nothing. After the accident, I was too stunned to move out of the car. However, your father got down immediately and rushed the boy to the hospital. But, nothing could be done to save him. Meanwhile, the boy’s mother and brother had also rushed to the hospital. They kept cursing us. However, when the doctors informed about the boy’s death, she turned into stone. She did not utter a single word and simply went away.”

“Later on, we found them. They were from the nearby slum. We offered them compensation. She did not accept it, even though she was in need of money. Her husband had died. She needed to look after her younger son. We apologized a thousand times, but she did not say a single word. Frustrated, we came back. Surprisingly, she did not file any complaint.”

“A year later, you took birth. We had almost forgotten the incident. Five years passed. One day, when I was taking you to the park, I saw her standing on the pavement. I recognized her immediately and panicked. I rushed back here with you.”

“Next day, I saw her again. Out of fear, I went to her and threatened her and asked her to stay away from you. At this, she merely smiled and said that she had lost her son and would never inflict such pain on anyone else, even if it was her worst enemy, which in this case, was me. My heart filled with shame. I came back quietly. After that day, it became a routine, which is being followed to this day. At the beginning your father too had become angry at such peculiar behavior and had made up his mind to confront that woman. But, I asked him to leave her on her own.”

“That is it. There is nothing more to add in this story.”

“There might be.” I thought. I asked my mother carefully, “Ma, by any chance, do you remember the name of that boy?”

“Yes, his name was Bablu Ghatak. He was about your age. My God, what have I done? Will I ever be forgiven?” she started crying bitterly.

“Please don’t cry Ma. Whatever happened was an accident and could have happened with anyone. Please do not make yourself miserable. Your repentance is genuine and God has surely forgiven you by now.” She looked up at me. Tears were rolling from her eyes. She embraced me.

Later on, I was sitting in my room. Things were coming back to me. The unclean room in the slum, my mother, my kid brother. Death of my father. My death. What was I supposed to do? I had watched Om Shanti Om a few days earlier. Before that, I had seen Karan-Arjun and Karz. I am also planning to watch Karzzz. Was I really reborn? Did the lady know this all along? She must have known. I was pretty sure I resembled Bablu Ghatak. So, what was to be done now? Was I to take revenge as they show it in the films?

I decided what to do.

That evening, I told my mother that I was going to the park for playing. As I came out of the house, I took a completely different route. A route which led to my “home”.

When I reached there, that woman, my “mother” came out. She could not believe her eyes for a few seconds. Then, she cried out loudly, “See everybody, my Bablu has come back!”

My “kid brother”, who was not a kid anymore, also came out. He was twenty years old now, if my calculations were correct.

I said, “How are you Dilip?”

He cried out loudly and embraced me, “Oh dada, where were you all these days?”

Well, after a good dose of sentiments, we finally settled down.

“Bablu, promise that you will never leave me again!” the lady demanded. Her eyes were burning like fire.

This was the moment that I had dreaded. I took my time and then, said slowly, “Maa ji, I promise I will be there for you whenever you need me. I can see that you are suffering a lot now. But, that will change. I will ask my father to give Dilip a job in his farm. No, please do not say no. Accept it for my sake. But, you must understand something. I am the son of Prasenjit Roy and Sheela Roy. I love my parents. They are wonderful human beings. I can never ever imagine of hurting them in some way. I am proud to be their son.”

The woman’s eyes filled with tears, “Am I no one to you?”

“Please Maa ji, it is not like that. What happened to you was wrong. Nothing can compensate your loss. But still, you must admit, that my parents had tried to make it up to you. It was you who did not accept anything. But, please understand. I am Prakash Roy and not Bablu Ghatak. I am not your son. But, I promise that I shall forever be by your side. I shall always be a son to you.” With these final words, I turned around to go.

“Wait!”

I turned back. My “mother” was holding something for me. She gave it to me. It was an old photograph. A family photo. She was there in it, along with her husband, Dilip and ………..Bablu. The photograph was taken a few days before my “father’s” death. Everyone was smiling in the photo. I was right. I really did look like Bablu. My eyes filled with tears.

I said, “Thank you so much mother for this wonderful gift. But, you will have to give me your word that you will not decline the job, my father will arrange for Dilip.”

Slowly, with tears in her eyes, she nodded. I could not say anything and just gave her one final hug and came out.

When I reached home, I went straight to my mother and buried my face in her laps.

“What has happened Pintu?” she sounded surprised.

I did not reply. I would tell her later. Right then, I was enjoying the warmth and love in her lap. Was there a more beautiful place on earth? I guess not.

We love Rabindranath

We need Burnol