Soliloque
Abhijit Sarma Barua

 

HIS STORY
I find across him at college. It was not long after our class had begun. The Physics lecture. Everyone had a high regard for the lecturer. Suddenly my classmate stood up and bending his neck at thirty degree angle, he intervened with his booming voice, “Sir, I don’t understand what you are saying at all.”
Sir became a bit surprised. Yet he did not utter anything and started explaining it right from the scratch. As soon as he took a break, my fellow student stood up again and spoke in the same old pose of bending his neck a little, “Still I don’t understand anything, Sir!”
Pranab, who was sitting beside me, whispered to me, “A crack-pat, got it?”
“Yes,” I murmured.
The lecturer turned to us this time and said, “Do you follow what I have explained?”
“Yes Sir, we do,” We all shouted. I can not say about others, but it was certain that Pranab and I could not follow it properly. In fact the mathematical formula, used by the lecturer in his calculation was new and unknown to us.
“Then you may be the only one who doesn’t understand, eh!” The sarcastic tone in Sir’s remark was apparent. We thought he would remain silent fearing he might become a ‘laughing stock’ among the students. They, particularly the girls, had already started jeering at him.
But for him it was apparent. He hardly bothered what the people around him were doing. He was at par with Sir, “Yes, Sir, may be.”
I guessed – Sir would either swear him for not taking his studies seriously or throw him out of the class. But he did nothing of that sort. “What is your problem?” Sir asked him.
“Sir, I do not understand the mathematical formula, you are using,” He replied in his characteristic pose.
Now Sir took the role of a teacher of Mathematics and our friend kept nodding as Sir went on explaining the formula.
“Now I understand Sir!” Seconds later he sank in his seat, taking scant notice of anybody around him.
…….. That was only the beginning. In course of time he became both a laughing stock as well as a terrorizing factor. Irrespective of the class and the teacher, he would always have something to ask. The slightest confusion would immediately lift him from his seat and he would unleash a string of question making the same angle of his neck, “I don’t understand, Sir.” Later boys from the last bench used to shout whenever he stood up, “I don’t understand, Sir!”
His appearance was rather ordinary. His clothing (he often sported the same dress) were even more than that. They were very old and shabby like a bald bicycle tyre, shining and threadbare, on the verge of wearing out. He walked rather slowly. If he moved fast like us or ran to and fro – they would give way. I was pretty certain of that.
It is true that his classmate ridiculed him, but those words of mockery hardly reached his ears. During class hours, he was inside the classroom: while if there was an ‘off period’, you would find him in the library. I think it was not because he was a book-worm that he spent most of the time in library. To get rid of the teasing boys, the library was perhaps the best place for him. Days rolled on well, if not very, very smoothly for him. But …
One day, a lecturer in a casual conversation with students, uttered something he should not have said. The words did not ring our ears until our classmate was on his feet again, “Sir, I strongly protest against what you have said.”
“What do you say?” The lecturer was simply taken aback.
“Sir, you must withdraw what you have just uttered and apologize!” He said in a stony voice.
We all were greatly surprised by this daredevil act. What was this chap up to? Yes, Sir did say something, but …
Sir was indignant. “Me! … What must I do? ….Don’t you know I can kick you out of the class?”
“Since you have refused to apologize, I will show myself the door.” He assembled his books and quietly went out of the classroom.
A tumult among the students and the lecturer was only inevitable. All efforts to make him seek forgiveness went in vain. He stuck to his own like an arrogant bull sitting in the middle of a street. He never apologized.
Afterwards, he was expelled from the college for a month.
When he came out of the banishment he found himself more isolated than ever before. He never had many friends. The school from which, he passed his matriculation was a far away village, and he was the only student from that school to secure first division with distinction. Then he came to this college. His family was in a deplorable financial condition with no plot of land, no paddy field, and … nothing! His father was a daily wage earner. Who could then afford to pay his monthly fees regularly? I don’t know, but somehow it was managed. He stayed in a distant uncle’s place from which he attended classes. His uncle too was financially poor, but he did have a large heart to provide his brilliant nephew with a bed and two meals daily. Behind all his (my classmate’s) handworks, behind his admission in such a reputed college and his solace under the roofs of somebody’s place – there was his fierce and keen desire to get higher education and to earn a good money for his poor family by holding a good post. He was very inclined to become a doctor in future.
I came to know all this from his own mouth. I found myself attracted to him after that memorable incident in our college and he also began to treat me as his friend. In his hours of disaster (of course, his days were usually disastrous!), I was his solitary friend.
He received his next jolt in the practical classes of Biology. The fact that one required a personal dissecting box and that it costs fifty valuable rupees, was not known to him! When he could not bring it for the three consecutive practical classes, the demonstrator made it clear to him that it was meaningless to attend practical classes without the dissecting box. I understood his problem and made an arrangement for one that belonged one of my brother’s friends and twenty rupees was all he had to pay for it. Yet, the very next day he opted to leave Biology and took up Statistics. He told me that he preferred Statistics to Biology, because a dissecting box was not needed in Statistics. At that point he was lagging far behind at Statistics but he said he could make up for the lost time. One thing was pretty certain – if he would left Biology, the dream that he cherished so long to become a doctor, would have been shattered and dashed to the ground! …. He assured me, “Never mind! …. I shall study a different subject”. The want of just twenty rupees changed the course of his life in a pathetic way!
His odd appearance, unsuitable dress and extravagant mannerism slowly wiped out his actual name: now everyone became more familiar with the name ‘lunatic’. Since I was the only sympathetic companion of him, the other boys made an attempt to label an adjective at my back as well, but they dared not to speak out because I .. I mean to say … our family had an enviable reputation in the town (which he did not have) and my brother, who was a senior student of the same college, was well built and strong!
What did he think of himself? I knew not. But the memory of one particular day is still fresh in my mind. That day our college was going through an election to constitute the new body of the Students’ Union. He did not appear that day. As I came out of the college casting my vote, I thought I should make a visit to his uncle’s place. He was mending a worn out table in the scorching sun. I queried, “why didn’t you go to cast your vote?’ He retorted, curling his lips a little (he often made that scene when he referred to something funny; it might as well be his smile). “Why? Don’t you know … that lunatics do not have right to cast votes?”
I wholeheartedly wanted him to come out with flying colours in the Pre Degree Examination. But he failed to live up to the high expectation. He did secure a first division, but just that. Of course, considering the limited facilities he got, it was a sufficient performance. His books could be counted in fingers. A few worn out ones he borrowed from others, plus a book or a two I lent him – were all he had. Therefore …what was I saying? … Oh, yes! After that I went to study Engineering. And he took honours in Physics in the same college. Afterwards there was no news of him. When the results of BSc Examination came out, I was informed he got a first class; his position was not too low.
The last time I came across him, in thinkable circumstances. It was unbelievable for me – perhaps, for him as well. He was sitting, with a wooden box in front, containing betel nuts and betel leaves, at the bus stand. I happened to be there near to a bus because I was to go where I had my new job. He did not come to my notice until he himself called me, “Hey? How are you?”
I simply could not believe my eyes. “You! Here!” I almost yelled in great surprise. His was a normal voice, “Just keeping soul and body together …… could not go to the university …. you might guess why ……. didn’t find any job either …… do a couple of tuitions in the evening …….. father too is ailing ……. I thought instead of sitting idle during the daytime …… I may earn something by selling betel nut …… what do you think? ……. Oh! what will you take? …. betel nut? …… or …. cigarettes ?
I took betel nut and a leaf …. lighted a cigarette. I was miserably at a loss of words. Without thinking much I let my hand to enter my pocket and it came out with a new one hundred-rupee note.
“What are you doing? …. Oh! You want to pay! …..Well! …. I thought we met after ages! … we were friends at a time…...and I should offer something to a friend of earlier time ….. Oh1 it may not be so ….. probably I was never a friend of anybody …… OK!..... OK!..... I’ll take it … wait a minute .. do I have small change? … Oh, yes! I got my tuition-payment yesterday…” he took the hundred-rupee note from my hand and returned ninety seven rupees to me.
I was mad of myself. Was it necessary to show my pity for him like that? Who am I to insult a self-respective man like him?
The bus horn blew. He said quickly, “there your bus is about to leave.” I looked into his eyes …. Not a single word dropped from my mouth …. Quietly I went away and stepped into the bus. As the bus was leaving the station, I looked at him once again – he too was staring at me – as though the one and only friend of his life had just left him!
That was – my last encounter with him.

The words that were never said!
Today, after so many years, if I am becoming nostalgic and am thinking about him, it is not without reason. I have returned to this place after five long years. There was no obligation to come here, especially after my father had retired and left this town. This time I have come to attend the marriage of an old friend, at the same time, to see this place with which old memories have been associated. Immediately after my arrival, I enquired about him in the bus stand. The owner of a nearby shop said, “Whom do you want to meet? …. Oh, that mad fellow! .. Why! He died!.... may be two years ago …. Some disease attacked him …. I don’t know clearly ….”
I was rooted at the spot, dumbfounded. Then I came out of the bus station with a heavy heart. What disease could it be? May be Gastric ….. or cancer. For the one like him all diseases are equally ruthless … like Satan! Those people have to embrace death being deprived of proper treatment! All lunatics face an early death … mad foxes …. mad dogs …. mad men ….!
I became totally restless in the ceremony. Time and again I came out. Oh! My good-hearted friend! Alas! …He finished his life so early and so miserably! Now, I realize he was my nearest and dearest friend! ……. What happened to him, how he died: even those are not known to me! I kept busy with myself! ….. I forgot my friend …….Time will be ticking away fast! …. Then, probably I would not feel proud of my other well established friends … Rather, I will be proud having been the sole friend of a self-respecting bold “lunatic”! But did I give him that respect when I met him last time? I never did. Even I said nothing when he expressed his doubt if I ever regarded him as my friend! Instead, I showed pity to a friend, who never troubled anybody and would prefer death rather than seeking sympathy or pity from others. What an enviable self-respect!
I do not know what happened to me. I feel like a mad man, as I keep brooding over and over. This marriage ceremony …..These glitters …. Luxury …. Celebrations …. This showroom of high sophistification! I can not bear it any longer ….. These are absolutely meaningless! Where the want of just twenty rupees shatters the cherished dream of a talented student, where the want of a handful of rupees forces a first class graduate to sell betel nuts and leaves despite a great desire for further studies, where a poor but relentless brave boy gets a nickname “lunatic” without any concrete reason thereof ….. there … this meaningless fun and celebration, meaningless expenditure ….. isn’t it sheer madness? If he would have got a little portion of the expenditures incurred in such exhibition of money power, his whole life would have changed! Who is mad then? He, or such other people? The ‘lunatic’, or the ones that called him a lunatic? The well-dressed, suited-booted gentleman and ladies, …… or myself, who is trying in vain to solve some intricate ridicules? All these have become an unanswerable question to me. I do not know why, I feel like shouting at top of my voice, among all men and women, making a thirty degree angle at my neck, “I don’t understand anything …… I want to protest against it!”
Brat! … As if I have come to my senses …. What am I brooding over so much? I am a responsible engineer …… the youngest and dearest son of my parents …. Never been in need before …. An exotic future ahead! Why shall I indulge in this ‘insanity’? I should enjoy the luxurious ceremony, for which I have come. I must enjoy myself and let the others too! The rich always enjoys and the poor always suffers! The privileged class should not think about the under-privileged class! This is the rule! Though unwritten! Then….?
Suddenly a thought hit me. Did he ever bite me or scratch my skin?
For I know – if a mad animal bites or scratches someone, sooner or later, the wounded one will surely turn mad!
Shall I also become a lunatic for keeping in touch with him? Oh, God!

 

 

Copyright © 2002 Abhijit Sarma Barua
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