Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Classfriend

Classfriend

By-Satyajit Roy

Translated by- Me

It's quarter past nine in the morning. Mohit Sarker was fastening his tie. Suddenly, his wife Aruna entered the room and said "There's a call waiting for you".

"Who's calling at this hour?"

Mohit Sarker is habituated with reaching the office at exactly nine thirty. So the natural response was a frown when he heard about the phone call just before setting out for office.

Aruna Devi said "He says he went to school with you".

"In School!", exclaimed Mohit. "Did he tell his name?"

"He said you know him by the name Joy"

Mohit Sarker left school thirty years ago. There were around forty students in his class. If he thinks hard, he might be able to recall the names and faces of around twenty students precisely. However, he could easily recall Joy or Joydev's face, because he was one of the top performers of the class. He was neat and clean in appearance, he was a good student, he was a high jump champion, he was adept in showing nice card tricks, and he also once received a medal for reciting the poem Casabianca. Mohit Sharker did not hear from him once after leaving school. He realized that despite of being friends at that time, he is not feeling any attachment towards him after such a long separation.

However, he decided to receive the call.

"Hello"

"Hi Mohit! Do you remember me? I'm Joy--Joydev Bose from Baliganj School."

"Your voice seems different, but I remember your face. What's up?"

"You are a big officer now man; I'm obliged that you at least remember my name!"

"Oh cut that out-- Tell me what's going on?"

"Err; I need to talk to you in person. Can we meet sometime?"

"When?"

"Whenever you are free. But if you can make it early...."

"Then let's meet up today. I'll be back by six. Can you come by seven in the evening?"

"Definitely. Thanks friend. Will talk to you in the evening".

Sitting in his new light blue standard car's comfortable seat, Mohit Sharker was engrossed in thoughts. He was on his way towards office. He tried recalling some incidents from his school life. Despite of head master Girin Sur's hazy looks and grave serious attitude, the school days were filled with happiness. Mohit himself was a good student. Shankar, Mohit and Joydev--three of them had clash among themselves. They used to occupy the first, second and third positions in turns. Mohit Sharker and Joydev Bose studied together since class six. Many times they would sit side by side in the same bench. They also played side by side in football games; Mohit played right-in, Joydev played right-out; at that time Mohit used to think they would remain friends forever. But they walked different roads after passing school. Mohit's father was a well off person; he was one of the prominent barristers of Calcutta. After finishing school, Mohit got himself in to a good college, and passed out in two years to join a merchandising office. Joydev went to a different city and got admitted in a college there because his father held a transfer oriented job. Strangely enough, soon he realized that he was not feeling the absence of Joydev; he made new friends in college. Then again friends changed when he finished his student life and entered the job life. Now he is one of the top four men in the office, and his closest friend is one of his colleagues. Amongst his classmates, he only comes across Proggan Shengupta occasionally in the club, who also holds a good position in a reputed organization. Strangely, Proggan has no place in his school memories. But Joydev--whom he didn't meet for almost thirty years--occupies a lot of space in his memory. Mohit realized this truth very well whilst reminiscing.

Mohit's office is in Central Avenue. As soon as the car came near the intersection of Chourongi and Shuren Banarjee road, the traffic jam, honking horns and polluted smoke crashed him back to reality from the memory lane stroll. Glancing at the wrist watch, Mohit realized that he would be two to three minutes late today.

Finally, when he finished office work and returned to his house in Lee Street in the evening, not an iota of Baliganj School is present in his mind. As a matter of fact, he totally forgot about the morning phone call; the whole incident came back to him when the butler brought a note to him. The note was made by tearing a piece of paper from a ruled exercise book and it had these words written on them--"Joydev Bose, as per appointment".

Turning off the BBC radio news, Mohit told Bipin "Ask him to come inside". Saying this, he realized that he should have arranged some food for Joy who was coming to see him after so many years. It would have been very easy for him to get some cakes and pastries from Park Street on his way back from office, but he totally forgot about the appointment. He was wondering whether his wife remembered about the appointment and did the necessary arrangements.

"Can you recognize me?"

Hearing the voice, and then after looking at the owner of the voice, Mohit Sarker had a feeling which can only be compared to the feeling one gets by stepping in to emptiness thinking that there is another step; while climbing a staircase.

The person is wearing a ash colored, non-matched and bigger-than-needed sized cotton pant and a cheap half sleeve shirt; it is apparent from the outlook that neither the shirt nor the pant ever went through the process called ironing. Mohit tried really hard, but he failed to find any resemblance between the Joydev in his memories and the mouth that is popping out of the shirt collar in front of him. The stranger's eyes are dim, his skin is deeply sun burnt, his cheeks are wrinkled, he has at least three day's old unshaven whiskers, his upper portion of the head is smoothly bald and he has a few locks of disheveled hair near his ears. As he asked the question with a smiling face, Mohit managed to see the inner portions of his teeth and he thought someone with such betel-leaf eroded teeth should always cover his face before attempting a smile.

"I have changed a lot, didn't I?"

"Please have a seat"

Mohit stood up by then. After the stranger sat in the front seat, Mohit occupied his own seat. Mohit has a few pictures from his student life; anyone can tell today's Mohit from the fourteen year old Mohit. But then why am I struggling so much to recognize this person? How can a person's appearance change so much in thirty years?

"You can be instantly recognized. I would have recognized you if I saw you in the streets"--the gentleman continues talking--"Actually I've been through a lot of ups and downs. Father died when I was in college, and I was forced to quit college. I started looking for a job. You can understand what followed. Good luck and backing are essential elements for a normal person to strive..."

"Will you like to have some tea?"

"Tea? Oh yes, that'd be...."

Cutting him short, Mohit called Bipin and asked him to bring tea, and thought that it's not a big problem even if there is no cake or sweet available; biscuits are good enough for this person.

"Oh!--the gentleman continues, "Throughout the day I've been thinking about the old times, Mohit."

Mohit decided not to tell him that he also spent a significant time looking back.

"Do you remember LCM and GCM?"

Mohit forgot, but he remembered instantly. LCM was P.T. master Lalchand Mukharjee and GCM was mathematics teacher Gopen Mitter.

"Can you remember who forcibly made us stand beside the drinking water tank and pose for a photograph?"

Grinning, Mohit made it clear that he remembers. Strange, all these are true incidents. If this person is not Joydev, then how come he knows all these?

"You know, the five years of school are the best years of my life", said the stranger, "Those days will never come back".

Mohit could not resist saying one thing.

"You and I are almost same aged, as far as I remember".

" I am just three months younger than you."

"Then how did you age up so fast? What happened to your hair?"

"Struggle, it's all due to struggle", said the stranger. "But baldness is a common syndrome in my family. Both my father and grandfather became bald by the age of thirty five. Wrinkled cheeks are the result of hard work and toil, and also due to poor diet. I don't hold a desk job like you lot. I worked in a factory for seven years, then I became a medical salesman, an insurance agent and then I tried many different types of commission agent jobs! It is not my luck that I will stick to a single job. Just like a swinging pendulum, I'm swaying from left to right, all the time. They say you can make your body absorb anything and everything, but at the end of the day, the body becomes battered, rammed and the end result is premature ageing. You can clearly see it in me.

Bipin brought tea. In another plate there was Shingara and Shondesh. My wife is smart, thought Mohit. However, Mohit dared not imagine what would be his wife's reaction after seeing the likes of his so called classmate.

"Won't you eat?" asked the stranger. Mohit nodded his head in the negative. "I just ate".

"One Shondesh?"

"No, you take it.

The gentleman started chewing on a Shingara and continued talking with food in his mouth--"My son's examination is imminent. But my state is such, I cannot imagine how I will manage the fees."

That was enough for Mohit. He understood instantaneously. He should have guessed the reason behind this visit. It's nothing but seeking aid. Financial aid. How much will he demand? If it's twenty-twenty five, it'd be smarter to give, because there is no guarantee that declining will stop this botheration permanently.

"You know, my son is very bright. I lost my sleep thinking that his studies might stop prematurely due to lack of finances".

The second Shingara ascended from the plate. Mohit is constantly trying to match the childhood Joy's face with the stranger's face, and gradually he is getting more and more confident that there is nothing common between this elderly person and the boy in his album.

"So as I was saying, brother", with a loud sip in the tea cup, the stranger continued, "If you can at least hand over one hundred or hundred fifty bucks to this old friend of yours, then....."

"Very Sorry"

"Huh?"

Mohit previously decided that he would decline instantly if money matter comes up. But after saying it, he thought he could have done it in a less rude manner. Thus in order to do some damage control, he told him in a gentler voice "Sorry brother. Right now I am running a bit low on cash".

"I can come tomorrow. Any time. Whenever you say."

"Tomorrow I am going out of Calcutta. I will return after three days. You can come on Sunday."

"Sunday...."

Disappointment was visible in the stranger's face. Mohit is determined. There is no proof in the face that this person is Joy. Calcutta people know thousands of ways of ripping off people through hideous tricks. If he is an imposter? Maybe he knows the real Joydev. Is it a very difficult task getting some thirty year old information about Baliganj School? I guess not.

"At what time are you returning, on Sunday?" asked the stranger

"I'll be back within nine to nine thirty AM."

Eid holidays start from Friday. Mohit has already made plans to visit a friend's farm house during the weekends. His wife will also be with him. Two day's stay and return on Sunday--that is the plan. Thus the gentleman will not find him if he comes on Sunday morning. This trickery was not needed if Mohit could refuse directly. But there are certain people who cannot do such things. After Sunday, if the person again tries to see Mohit, he will find another excuse to not see him. Then maybe he will not bother Mohit again.

As soon as the stranger took his last sip in the teacup, another person entered the room. He is Mohit's bosom friend Banikanto Sen. Two others are supposed to join in for a card playing session. This is a regular event. Banikanto gave a look of suspicion to the stranger which Mohit did not fail to notice. With a straight face, Mohit totally bypassed the fact that he knew the stranger.

"Okay, I'll go now..."--the stranger stood. In a very informal tone, he said "If you can do this favor to me, I'll be very, very grateful, friend. Truly".

As soon as the gentleman went away, Banikanto faced Mohit with a frown and said "That person was talking to you like a close friend--what's the idea?"

"He was speaking in a formal tone until you came. Just before leaving he used the informal tone to let you know that we are really close."

"Who is this person?"

Instead of replying, Mohit brought out an old photo album from his book shelf, opened a particular page and moved it towards Banikanto.

"Is this your school group?"

"We went to the Botanics for picnic", said Mohit Sarker.

"Who are these five?"

"Can't you recognize me?"

"Wait; let me take a closer look".

Banikanto brought the album page closer to his eyes and he managed to identify Mohit in ease.

"Now take a close look at the boy standing at the right side of me"

Banikanto took an even closer look and said "Okay, I saw the picture". Mohit said, "This is the person who just left".

"Did he start gambling from his school life?"--Banikanto grumbled after closing the album with a loud bang and throwing it on the sofa. "I've seen him at least thirty two times in the race course."

"That is expected", said Mohit Sarker. Then he told him in brief the entire conversation within him and the stranger.

"You should call the police", said Banikanto, "Calcutta city has became a depot of thieves, forgery specialists and touts. The boy in the photo album and this gambler cannot be the same person. It's impossible".

Mohit grinned and said "He will understand that I don't believe him after not finding me on Sunday. I don't think he will disturb me again after that"

Eating freshly caught fishes from friend's pond in Baruipur, poultry chicken eggs, mangoes, blueberries, palm and guava, lying in the shadow under trees, playing cards on a mattress laden on grass with a pillow on the chest--all these activities eliminated all sorts of mental and physical fatigue far, far away from Mohit. He returned home at 11 PM on Sunday and heard from his butler that the person who came before came again in the morning.--"Did he say anything while leaving"

"No, sir", replied Bipin.

"Great", thought Mohit. It's a simple trick, but it did the job. He won't come again. The annoyance is gone.

But no, he was wrong. The annoyance was gone for that day, but it returned again the next day morning. Mohit was in the living room. It was eight AM and he was reading the newspaper. Bipin entered the room with another piece of paper. Mohit opened the folded paper and saw a three lined letter.

Dear Mohit,

My right foot got injured, so I am sending my boy. Even if you can manage to give him a very small amount of money, it would help dearly. I hope you will not disappoint me.

Bye,

Joy

Mohit realized that there was no escape. But he decided that little means little and he told the butler "Call in the boy".

Within a few minutes, a thirteen to fourteen year old lad entered the room through the door, approached Mohit and did a small bow as per Hindu religious custom. He instantly moved back a few steps after completing the respect-showing bow. He stood silently.

Mohit deeply gazed at him for a few minutes. Then he said "Have a seat".

The boy hesitantly sat at the corner of a sofa; placing his hands over his lap in a stationary position.

"I'll be back soon".

Mohit went to the second floor, took the key lock from his wife, opened the almirah, took out four fifty taka notes and placed them in an envelope. He sealed the envelope, closed the almirah and came back to the living room.

"What is your name?"

"Sri Sunjoy Kumar Bose".

"There is money in this envelope. Can you take it carefully?"

The boy nodded in the affirmative.

"Where will you keep it?"

"In my chest pocket"/

"Will you take a tram or a bus?

"I will take a walk".

"You will walk? Where do you live?"

"Mirjapore Street".

"You will walk that far?"

"Father told me to walk back."

"Rather than that, you can do this. Wait for an hour, have some tea and sweets. There are many books and magazines here; you can go through them. I will go to office at nine; the car will drop me in the office and then take you to your home. You will be able to direct the driver towards your home, right?"

The boy again nodded in the affirmative.

Mohit called Bipin and asked him to serve tea to the boy and went upstairs again to get ready for going to the office.

He felt very light and happy with himself.

He could not recognize Joy by seeing him, but he found the Joy of thirty years ago within his son Sunjoy.

The End