In The Womb Of A Bomb
The District Office in India is scheduled to start at ten thirty. Official activity is to pick up by five minutes to eleven. Officers and clerks can not start a summer morning without drinking a glass of water each, after wiping off their sweat from forehead and finally having a brisk conversation on today’s news – corruption at high places, terrorist attack or bomb explosion, be it in Washington , in Waltair or in Wagah border. Banchharam Gui is the first man to report at ten sharp. A middle aged man of many uses – Peon cum Orderly cum Messenger of this office. He puts his cycle on a stand after a twenty k.m daily ride. Then, picks up the broom to clean all rooms , cleans all tables and chairs. Finally, washes his hands before pouring water in pots and glasses. When all jobs done, he wipes his sweat, washes his face with fresh water, brushes his oil soaked hair to the back and grey moustache before drinking a glass of cold water to spare a sign of relief , “ Ahhhh….. “ And the grandfather clock goes for a dong – it’s half past ten. Today, he joins after three days absence. Same routine jobs, but what a feeling ! Everything looks new and fine. The mind is fresh and energetic. Is it due to his absence ? No, never. He is sure that it is due to – his marriage…… sudden but secret. Even he had no guess. He was a mere guest . The wedding in his village was postponed by groom’s father on the issue of dowry placed by bride’s family. All present there grabbed this half old man before the bride for an exchange of garlands and eyesight. She was found beautiful by Banchharam. So, from that day onwards, he is no longer a spinster. His disgusting life of cooking his one time meal has ended. Now, he is a married man, whose wife has to make square meals and look after his household. He looks at the well packed lunch box with a smile as if the soft finger prints are quite visible. She is waiting for his home coming. Sitting on the stool before the chamber of District Magistrate after switching his computer on, he thinks how to place this good news to such a huge officer. He becomes shy to say such personal matter. He is confused ……..where to start and what to say……… “ Banchha……. ! “ Calls Hari babu, the head assistant. “ Yes , Sir ! ” Banchha goes to his table. “ I ‘ll tell the boss. But, get on your cycle to the office of the Forest Ranger right now to hand over this urgent message.” Hari babu passes the brown coloured envelope and a Receipt Book. Banchharam smilingly kicks the pedal and moves for a thirty k.m ride up and down. District Magistrate enters his chamber with a grimace. Too hot place and his stomach is upset. He swallows water. “Good morning, Sir ! ” Haribabu appears with folded hands. “ Yes, Haribabu, tell me.” He asks. “ Sir ! Everything is all right except one “ Red Alert for the possible attack from People’s War group” message from Secretariate to the Forest Ranger via our office. I ‘ve sent messenger Banchharam five minutes back. “ Okay. I don’t understand this red alert business. It is a regular feature and for years. Then , what is the purpose it serves by a periodical message of caution?” “ Sir, I believe it’s nothing but throwing ball to the other’s court. Secretariat finishes its job by passing information without giving solution to the problem. We pass the buck to the Forest Ranger. For the last thirty years of my career, I have been seeing the same thing.” Hari babu scratches his bald head as if to confirm from his personal records. Boss smiles unhappily and as a routine he looks around. Who knows as to when the target of the terrorists would shift from Forest Ranger to him ? Really, it is a meaningless drudgery , he presumes. Same room, same paper weights, same telephone, same curtains, and same files. Same agenda. Same dry tension of Red Alerts. He closes his eyes. It has been three years in this district and away from citylife. Has the super boss forgot about him ? He shrugs , “May be. He doesn’t care for me. So much of insecurity here, but endless problems . To add on the lot is the issue of secret terrorist outfits that are being organised in the deep forest for all sorts of anti establishment activities.“ By this time, Haribabu leaves. The room is becoming stuffy – some for the heat , some probably for the uncomfortable stay away home. He moves to the switch board beneath the air cooler, which is almost covered by curtain. “ Oh God !! What’s that ?” He can not believe his eyes. It is definitely a brown coloured bomb on floor peeping out of hanging curtain. It is cool……. Silent as if awaiting an explosion. And the most powerful man of the district administration feels to be weakest person. In panic, he falters in jumping out of the room. He shouts in fear , “ Haribabu, Moloy, Banchha !!! It’s a bomb in my chamber! Call police, right now.” And runs towards the compound outside using stairs. He listens to the sound of footsteps hurriedly running after him down the stairs with panicky expression but not a phone call. He understands the urge of saving one’s self by vacating the place. All the staff and their boss gather at a safe distance and wait for the bomb to explode. “ Hello, Can I speak to Mr. Misra, SP Bankura? “ The boss connects Superintendent of Police from his cell phone. The operator connects. “ Yes, Mr. Misra, DM Mr. Roy speaking. A bomb has been found in my room. Please take immediate action.” His nervousness is reflected in his trembling fingers holding the cell phone. The officers and men of local police station arrives after seven minutes, DSP and SP after fifteen minutes, bomb disposal squad with sniffer dogs after thirty minutes. In the meantime, DM and his staff are sitting on chairs on the field and at a safe distance of half a kilometre . But the bomb does not explode. DM has slowly been gaining control. What a huge potential this small bomb can have ! What a sensational news it is ! In this media-age, why he should not seek a bit publicity. This remote district may not attract sympathy of bureaucrats but this bomb issue may have a national impact, if not international. If the matter can be covered in TV news, hopefully, top bosses of the secretariat will see and remember his face in the evening while sipping coffee. By all means, they can not and they must not forget him. He calls Haribabu closely and advises. Within five minutes, a bunch of reporters and photographers of newspapers and TV channels throng in the compound heavily loaded with microphones, cameras and various juicy questions for live telecast of this highly explosive event. - Do you think that it is a terrorist act or a threat ? If it is an act , then how many militants are involved ? - Whom do you suspect ? People’s War or Warring for People or Alfa or Al – Qaida ? - What is the diameter of the bomb ? - What is the capacity of the bomb ? - How many are dead or injured or both ? Where they are now ? - What parts of their bodies are lying on the spot ? - Who noticed it first ? - Where are the witnesses ? Are they alive or dead ? - Is anybody here as the relative of any of the victims , who can cry his or her heart out panting for our lens ? DM and his staff are showered not only with these questions but clicks of cameras as well. So, they are all cheerful from within despite the embarrassment they face. Haribabu, who has no cell phone, has finished his twenty-sixth phonecall from a telephone booth to intimate all his relatives including married daughters to see round the clock news channel with their in-laws for the real bomb and their father’s role. His boss has finished sending SMS to all known people except his wife, who , if informed , will rush from her kitchen to this place to snatch him away. She has a feeling of possibly getting widow as per astrologers. That is why she has been trying Feng – Shui for a change. So, today , in the life of Haribabu and his boss, finally star is glittering hard to award them - celebrity status . A Red Letter Day in the life of tired men passing red alerts almost everyday. “ It must be a Time Bomb. It only explodes as per the set time.” Says the SP. With heavy mask on and apparatus in hand , two men of bomb disposal squad move inside the office building. The crowd down the line is breathless. Two men inside are breathing heavily. “Sambhu, keep a bucket of water ready. I ‘ve told you a number of times the best but quickest remedy. Fork the danger and throw it to the water. Simple funda. Ha…Ha… Ha…“ Makhan , the captain repeats the tips. Sambhu , his subordinate follows. At DM’s chamber, Sambhu and Makhan enter and look around. This is the first time, they have entered the well decorated chamber of such an highly placed official . The soft carpet makes their feet glued. The polished wooden board behind DM’s chair says who are his predecessors. But the large and best cushioned chair , which people of the district respects and fears , is lying vacant for fear of a small object. Where is that ? “ Boss, here it is. “ Sambhu points out at a small but round shaped object , bound by brown coloured strings top to bottom. “ No, no ! Don’t remove the curtain. It may cause movement of the object. Then it may explode.” Makhan is tensed. He continues. “ Don’t waste a second. You grab it by iron fork and put into the water.” He instructs. Sambhu closes his eyes, moves his face to north , uses his fork to the south and does the job. Before all those eager eyes, that brown piece behaves like a dead object. It sinks for resting at the bottom like a sunken ship. Only, some oil starts to float on water. As Sambhu is confused on the oily surface, Makhan sends message on air by his walkie – talkie. “ SP Sir, the bomb is neutralised. There is no fear. “ “ Good! Very good ! Submit reward statement. Congratulations.” SP is relieved. He is in safe hands of almighty. “ DM sahab, that bomb has been neutralised. You are totally safe.” “ SP sahab, can we not see the bomb for a while ?” Asks Haribabu, taut in tension. “ No, not possible please. For security reasons, we have to keep it for at least two hours under observation and lab-test. I shall let you know the result at around three. But police investigation under DSP will be on. ” Showing three fingers to mean three p.m, his next phonecall, SP leaves. Bomb Disposal Squad leaves too, with a covered bucket and the bomb down in the pool of water. DM finishes a cold drink and proceeds towards his office for resumption of work. The guessing crowd follows. It is just one thirty. The red light at the gate of DM ‘s chamber is on. Inside, a number of police officers, seniors and juniors are present. DM feels that same questions, asked by the reporters half an hour back are repeated in the name of police interrogation . Telephone is ringing non stop. “ Sir, we have finally come to basic issue of its origin. It is time to know who has brought it in this chamber. If you have seen it first after eleven, we want to know about the person, who has entered the room before you.” Thuk… Thuk… Thuk… three knocks on the door. The clock confirms time as two fifty . “ Yes, come in.” DM permits as Banchharam enters with folded hands. “ You name the devil and devil is here. This is Banchharam Gui, our peon cum orderly cum messenger. He comes first and cleans the room. He has been to Forest Ranger’s office this morning with a message. You can interrogate him. Let him take some food first.“ Banchharam is too puzzled. He nods and goes to the curtain near air conditioner machine in search of something and comes back , “ Excuse me ! Sir, my lunch box ? I ‘ve kept that here.” He humbly asks and points out the spot behind the curtain.. “ Wh… a…a..t ? “ All present in the room are stunned. Speechless. “ My lunch box, sir ! first home made lunch prepared by my wife, whom I married the day before yesterday. “ His eyes are carrying utter confusion as well as pain to miss the food, he desperately needs now. “ What ‘re you telling, Banchha ! Stop, all non sense stories !!! You must have taken too much of country liquor or cash from the secret group. Tell me clearly! “ Haribabu shouts at Banchharam, who starts to cry. “ I’m poor but honest, sir. I never drink. I am telling the truth. Believe me. .” The phone rings…….. SP wants to speak to DM. “ Yes, Mr. Misra “ DM speaks. “ Sir, the bomb procured from your chamber appears to be a new kind of bomb. In stead of common explosive ingredients, it carries lot of leafy vegetables and potatoes mixed with half grained rice soaked in oil. I wonder. It must be either a bomb in disguise or chemical spreading poison . We ‘ve sent it to the forensic laboratory in Kolkata for research and confirmation. Once the report comes, I shall let you know.” SP stops. “ I don’t need that, Mr. Misra. Thank you very much.” DM keeps the phone set on the cradle and looks at Haribabu sternly, “ Don’t make a scene. See that this man have some food.” Now, DM smiles at DSP and tells , “ This enquiry has more fate than merit, I suppose. It is a cent percent fit case for filing. Right ?” ------------- 00000 ------------
Copyright © 2004 Partha Pratim Majumder |