Tales Of Dhaka CIty Roads

This article has been published in The Independent's Weekend magazine:
http://theindependentbd.com/weekly-independent/49569-tales-of-dhaka-city-roads.html

I observed a very unusual incident a few days ago. A young guy was talking on the cellphone while riding his bike. One cannot really imagine how this feat can be achieved unless seen by own eyes. To make things more incredible, he was actually using his one hand to attach the cell phone with his right ear while trying to maintain balance with his solitary unoccupied hand. Result—he stumbled in front of a car and almost got hit by the rickshaw I was riding. The guy had a minor fall and I gave him a friendly advice – “Brother please don’t use the cellphone while driving”. My words did not register in his ears; he did not even look at me. He simply got up, set his cycle on the street, gave a meek smile and within no time, I saw him repeating the same activity. Soon he had to slow down again to avoid getting hit by another speeding vehicle.

This is an extreme example of the roadside hazards that we face everyday in our beloved Dhaka city.  Thanks to the bread earning job, everyday I have to make two mandatory travels—one in the morning and the other after sunset. Apart from these, I also have to do those small strolls and extended rides to satisfy various needs during the day time.

In my opinion, pedestrians and rickshawpullers are the prime reason behind traffic jams and accidents in Dhaka city. Almost everyday, we have to exercise rock’ n roll dance moves in our car in order to save the lives of a pedestrian or two.

Let me paint an everyday picture for a better understanding. Imagine you are driving your car at normal speed on a typical Dhaka evening. Car movement is slow due to dense traffic. Suddenly you notice that there is a significant gap between you and the next car ahead. Naturally, you would want to speed up to cover the distance. However, it is almost biblical that a stray pedestrian will want to utilize the gap and run to cross the road. So what happens is that you have to break hard, make some deafening tire screeching noise and stop the car “just” before hitting the adventurous jaywalker.

Now you just stopped yourself from killing an innocent. Innocent, is he? No, he is not.

He did not assess the traffic situation before attempting to cross the road. He failed to notice the incoming, speeding cars. He is totally irresponsible to both himself, his family and everyone around. He nearly killed himself, and it is only because of your extraordinary braking skill and driving finesse he can still glare at you unharmed. It is only natural that he will shout out obscenities at you for being a “mad, people killing” driver while you will be in a bewildered state.
The pedestrian walks away unharmed, but you, the driver, continue to remain grumpy and shaken. He just “unmade” your day. For the remainder of the journey, you tend to be over cautious and slow. This causes you severe annoyance to the other drivers on the road. They get impatient by your slow driving and make it a holy quest to show you the way “it is done”. For the remainder of your journey, all you hear is deafening honking of varied horns at the back. 

According to everyone’s trusted friend Wikipedia, a vehicle horn is a sound-making device used to warn others of the approach of the vehicle or of its presence. However, I am quite sure that once overused, the “warning” part of the definition turns in to “annoying”. Actually a vehicle horn becomes a sound making device that is used to annoy others.

It seems that drivers are always keeping a hand on the horns just to annoy pedestrians and other drivers on the roads. The relentless honking of several kinds of horns (ranging from hare krishna hare raam type sounds to vuvuzela imitators) will make even the most ardent heavy metal fan’s ears revolt. It is a mystery how we, the Dhaka city dwellers are still eluding deafness. Or are we? Maybe there is some unpublished statistic that shows that on average, 80% of the city dwellers are already suffering from some kind of hearing imparity.

And these are just a few examples of what goes on in the streets of Dhaka....

Monopoly: An Age old Dilemma

This is an article that I recently wrote for banglalink's internal newsletter, "The Roar". It was published in the 4th issue (December 09). People working in banglalink are likely to relate to the article more, but others can enjoy, too.

Monopoly: An Age old Dilemma

The first time I heard about Monopoly was when I got the board game as a birthday gift. I absolutely loved the game; I remember spending long hours buying and selling properties and having lots of fun in the process. However, it wasn’t until I studied micro economics in university that I realized the true meaning of monopolization. That, too, was merely theoretical knowledge involving some graphs and fancy facts. If we consult wikipedia for the definition of monopoly, we can easily figure out that Monopoly is rarely a favorable situation for the consumer:

“A monopoly exists when a specific individual or an enterprise has sufficient control over a particular product or service to determine significantly the terms on which other individuals shall have access to it”. In summary, having one company providing a particular product or service can’t be beneficial for the mass because the monopoly company will have absolute authority over the pricing and distributing of that particular product or service. However, innovators and or inaugurators are often granted certain number of years to practice a “state approved monopoly” whereby no competitors can enter the market.

Examples? Citycell in Bangladesh—they introduced mobile communication in Bangladesh as a new technology. The earliest CDMA models were big huge and ugly, and bore resemblance with obnoxious weaponry carried by uninvited dark street companions. Still, mobile phones were a symbol of status. It is an urban legend now that merely bringing out a cell phone from the pocket would grant people access to the important places like the secretariat in those times.

That was not too long ago. In less than a decade, things have changed dramatically. GrameenPhone came in with the GSM technology, which lowered down the entry price to around ten thousand taka from the insanely and atrociously expensive Citycell lines that could cost individuals one lac or even more. But GP was not too generous. Still consumers had to pay Tk 6.9 per minute to make a call to his dear and near ones, and fixed line connectivity was very difficult to attain. SIMs would die every 21 days unless the customer paid 300 taka to get a scratch card; regardless of need. There were regional charges, monthly fees, few recharge options—mobile technology was still exclusive to the solvent urban populace.

It was still a monopolistic scenario. The player changed, but the game did not. Citycell struggled and went in to hiatus. Aktel and Sheba kept on fighting for existence. People called it oligopoly, but actually GP was dominating the industry with 62% market share.

Then came banglalink. Sheba was a troubled company, but banglalink quickly turned things around and became the 2nd largest operator of the country in record time. En-route to reaching that landmark, banglalink exercised competitive pressure on GP and took away a large portion of their loyal customer base. Today, with six highly competitive and competent operators, Bangladesh boasts a scenario which can easily be compared with an economics book definition of perfect competition. The industry dynamics is now far, far away from being a monopoly or even an oligopoly. Consumers are highly benefited from the extremely low call rates. India’s “so called” low rates have been proven highly deceitful, while in Bangladesh if an operator advertises Tk 0.25/min, it is truly Tk 0.25/minute, plus government imposed value added tax. There is no other hidden cost whatsoever.

We can call this an industry evolution and revolution for the consumers.

While the telecom business is still growing, the organizations are also evolving internally. We, the tigers and tigresses of banglalink have also experienced a revolution. Anyone who has recently visited the ground floor cafeteria has enjoyed his or her meal and could clearly feel the traces of stiff competition. Like any other Bangladeshi, I am sure none of us misses the British colonial age and the old aristocratic ways.

Monopoly is never good. Never.

Reddish

Ridwan works in a multinational corporation. He has a very hectic job which seldom allows him to follow the agreed work hours of 9 hours a day and 5 days a week. On a typical Thursday, Ridwan enters office with a pleasurable mind—the week is finally ending.

The all too familiar jazzy sound of his cell phone started ringing. Boss is also on a call, so I might as well take the call.

“Hi Ridd, how’s life?”

“Life’s good on Thursdays...you know that very well. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing much; I am also glad that a tough week is ending.”

“Talk about toughness! I had two tough presentations as well as many other ad-hoc tasks that I absolutely had to finish this week.”

“Oh yeah, all the businesses are going through the mid year craziness, and the bosses have become suit wearing lunatics!”

“Anyways, wanna catch up with the updates after work?”

“Heh, as if there’s much to update! But hell yeah, I’d love to get together. What about the rest?”

“I’ll be calling them as well. Just give me a call when you’re outta office”.

“Cool, see you in 9 hours!”

Ridwan, Rizwan, Ronny and Rakesh—the four R’s, as they call themselves, have been friends since primary school. It’s kind of amazing that even after so many years, they still stick together. They all began their life journey at the same point of time and they grew up through the 80s and 90s to see cassettes and VHS tapes getting replaced by CDs, DVDs and Mp3s.

Ridwan noticed that the sole female colleague in his department is cutting a red apple in two halves. She wakes up late, and used to come late at work a lot. After several warnings and an eventual HR threat, she started arriving early. But that also means that she started bringing in breakfast from home; which she never shared. No matter what the core breakfast is, she would almost always finish it off with an apple, some grapes, an orange, or some bananas.

“What is redder than a red apple?”, wondered Ridd, as friends affectionately called him. Ridd, Ron, Riz and Rack they became. None of them are working in the same fields now. After school, half of them studied in the same college, but after college, there remained nothing common in their career choices. But still four souls are tuned as the first four strings of a bass guitar. Okay, there are only four strings in a typical bass guitar!

“Ridwan, are you day dreaming?”

The thousand-times-heard-damn it’s so boringly familiar voice of the boss brought Ridwan back to reality. “Sigh, there goes the happiness and calm”

“Blood! Yeah, blood is redder than an apple”, thought Ridwan whilst jumping from cell A1 to AE99 in the obscure business case neatly arranged by the analyst in the excel file.

“Red roses are very good to look at, and red cars aren’t half bad”. The other day, he was stuck in a severe traffic jam within Gulshan 1 and 2, and he saw a good looking lady driving a red RX 8. He was looking at the car body. Ridwan is a long time fan of NFS, and he loved driving the Mazda RX 8. “Sigh, I will never be able to buy an Rx 8. CNG and public buses are the only options for me”

When work was finally over, he un-silenced his cell phone to find 4 messages and 8 missed calls, and it was 20:20. He was supposed to get out of office by 7 and call Rizwan. He hurriedly called him and found out that everyone was waiting for him.

While ascending from the ten storied building, he saw a “Lady in red”. What’s going on? What’s this obsession about red, wondered Ridwan.

After rendezvous, they all went to a bar. It’s an open secret that despite of strict rules and regulations, almost anyone and everyone can get a sip or two. None of them are addicted to alcohol, but sporadic in take helps the pack unwind after a hard day’s night. When hard days become plural number and turns to hard weeks, it becomes essential to chill out in style.

At around 12:30 AM, they finally decided to head off home. Though not all of them were too happy and confident about facing the folks after spending so much time outside home. Luckily they found a CNG driven vehicle. Ridwan lived the farthest, while Rack just lived nearby. So watching Rack speed away in a Lamborghini rickshaw, the others boarded the CNG. Ridwan remembered about the argument he had with Ron regarding calling a CNG vehicle just “CNG”. “See dude, CNG is the juice that gets the vehicle going, it’s just a baby taxi that’s being driven by CNG. You can’t call it a CNG!”. “To hell with your arguments, I am so going to call it a CNG”

The idea was Ridwan’s but, tonight’s liquor outing was heavily supported by the usually quiet guy Ron. He’s quiet by nature, but when he decided to speak up, he’s hard to argue with. However, that day Ridwan won the argument. Then they started another silly argument as to why the CNG’s are only painted green instead of Red, Green, Blue or any other color whatsoever...

“Red is not my favorite color, but why red is circling around me? Is it because she was wearing red when we broke up?”

“Procrastination is the devil that stops us from climbing the stairs up”, thought Ridwan and looked sideways to find himself alone in the CNG. His other two friends did drop off at some point of time, but he could vaguely remember himself bidding farewell to them while they descended. Anyways, he thought, they should be home safe and sound by then. He looked around to find a secluded alley, which he could not readily recognize. “Err, is the small gifts of madness drink causing this?” The memory of getting mugged by who looked like a friendly acquaintance came back to his mind. That was almost four years ago. Since then, he maintained a high level of alertness while traveling alone in a CNG.

The difficulties at work, the break up, the arguments, the demanding family—everything was finally hitting him hard. He was definitely tipsy, and when he found the vehicle slowing down, he wasn’t too surprised. As he thought, a guy jumped inside the CNG as if he’s an old friend. He saw him brandishing a shiny knife and saying something to him. He was hearing but not listening. He smiled and said “Who are you?” The knife guy was half amused and said something about handing over the belongings in a harsh tone. He also added something about splitting his belly if he failed to comply. The CNG driver was nowhere to be seen, nor were anyone else found in the locality.

The knife guy was wearing a red shirt and blue jeans. Ridwan was not in the mood. He felt a sudden rush of anger ridden emotions surging up.

A memory of past bothered him. He was very afraid of chickens when he was a kid. He found the otherwise tasty bird like species to be very frightening when they were alive and flying and charging at him. So when he was asked to hold the neck of the bird when someone else would be slaughtering it, he was afraid, but he was also happy to be part of the killing session of an annoying thing.

When the knife was placed on the neck, the bird’s reddish complexion and lamenting moans did not create any sympathy in the young Ridwan’s mind. He was jubilant when the first drops of blood spilt over and med his hands red. That was blood, and it had the same color as it had when he used to have nosebleeds.

In an unthinkable act of urgency, he snatched the knife from the knife guy. The guy was not expecting this. He had been mugging people for quite some time, only to ensure the regular supplies of heroine and other such substances. At the beginning, he found it appealing to keep count of his victims, but he ceased to do so after scaring away his hundredth victim, and not a single one showed any signs of courage. He had a deal with a number of CNG drivers, and they would always bring him coward victims.

When Ridwan was stabbing the knife into his abdomen and neck repeatedly, the knife guy was staring in surprise, “What’s going on? I am the hunter, I should not be hunted like this”. He struggled, and managed to punch his victim in the eye. But it did not seem to bother him a bit.

Ridwan was taking a blood bath. He saw the CNG driver standing nearby. He had both his hands in his head. He was not coming to help the once alive figure of the knife guy. Ridwan’s purple shirt was now red. The knife was also red, and so was everything else. His eyes were filled with blood.

Flicking the knife casually, he came out of the vehicle. Home is not too far away, he thought. He looked at the CNG driver, who was now trembling in fear. Ridwan started to laugh. There was not even a dog or a cow to hear his laughter, let alone other humans. It was sadistic, and he made the streets red with all the blood.

He took out the ipod from his pocket, and started playing Californication by Red Hot Chilli Peppers on his way back home....

“Today’s been an eventful day”.

Fiha Equation: Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It’s a heavy iron gate. No calling bell is visible from the outside. Marla Lee knocked the gate couple times. He wasn’t sure whether the barely audible knocking sound reached the inner parts of the house. He noticed that the sky is getting cloudy. It might start raining anytime. He started feeling cold. How long will he stand like this? Marla Lee resumed pushing the gate. He heard some heavy footsteps; robotic steps. Some robot is arriving with heavy treads. What type of robot this? Such noisy robots are no longer manufactured.

The gate didn’t open. A small peep hole opened. Bookworm’s face became visible. His Iridium brazen eyes were illuminating in the darkness. In a happy tone, he said “Did you bring the book?”

“Yes”

“Give it to me and you can leave”.

“It cannot be given to you. The book is very expensive, and I myself have to deliver it to Fiha”.

“You can give the book to me without any hesitation. I am a personal aide to Fiha. My name is Bookworm. He likes me very much.”

“I am very happy to know that Fiha likes you very much. Fiha doesn’t like me much, but still I have to give the book to him myself”.

The peep hole closed. Bookworm went back towards the house making heavy noise. Fiha noticed that it already started drizzling. The temperature is going down fast. He started wondering whether he should go inside the car. Who knows when this Robot called Bookworm will return? These are PR type Robots. They are clumsy in nature, but their thought process is very improved. The most important thing is that they acquire knowledge from the surroundings.

The gate opened suddenly. Bookworm asked him to get inside.

“Fiha is waiting inside the library room for you”, said Bookworm. You will have to be very careful. There is no light inside. You can take my hand if you wish to.

In a very calm voice, Marla Lee said “I don’t need to hold your hand. You can lead me instead”.

Fiha frowned at Marla Lee. He didn’t even show the slightest intentions of hiding irritation.

Marla Lee said “I did not feel like disturbing anyone else at this hour of night. So I myself brought the book. I know I’ve trespassed. I should not be nearing 1000 yards of your home. But still I came”.

“You could’ve sent this book via a Robot.”

“No sir, I couldn’t. This book cannot be entrusted with anybody and everybody.”

Fiha extended his hand and took the book. Marla Lee said “It’s very cold outside. I am not sure whether you have noticed or not, it’s raining outside. I’d be very grateful if I can get a cup of coffee.”

“Please sit down. Let me ask for coffee.”

“Thanks”.

Marla Lee sat down. Fiha did not sit, he kept standing. Even if he wanted to sit, there was no way of doing so. There is only one chair in the library. Marla Lee said “Won’t you sit, Fiha?”

“Do I need to sit?”

“We can have a conversation if we sit face to face. Once in a while, people do talk with their enemies. As you have given me the permission to enter your house, I am hoping that you’ll permit me to talk as well.”

Fiha came out of the library and asked Bookworm to get another chair. Bookworm said “It is kind of demeaning for me to move furniture; can I ask the cook robot to do this job?”

Fiha nodded.

“Another thing, sir. I have noticed that this person is really irritating you. You are being gentle. If you permit me, I can do some trickery of words, which will irritate him, and eventually he will leave.”

“I don’t see any reason for doing that. You were eavesdropping, which I don’t like. Go and stand in front of the gate.”

Bookworm left instantly. His Irridium brazen eyes looked a bit dim.

Marla Lee said "I am very surprised to see only one chair in your gigantic library".

Fiha said "There is nothing to be surprised about. I'm a loner".

"I'm a loner too, but I can't even imagine having only one chair in my living room or library", said Marla Lee.

"You are not Fiha and that's why you can't imagine that. I can, and this is the most logical thing to me. My library is not a place for drinking coffee or chit chatting".

"If you think it's a trouble sitting here and discussing, we can sit somewhere else".

"Do you really need to talk to me?"

"It'd have been better if we could talk, but we don't have to talk if you don't want to"

"I am not feeling like talking".

"Alright. I will bid farewell as soon as I'm done drinking the coffee."

Marla Lee silently finished his coffee. He removed his cap and placed it on the table. He wore the cap again. In a calm voice, he said "I will be leaving now. Good night, noble Fiha."

"Good Night"

It seemed to Fiha that Marla Lee was just going out. But instead of placing his feet outside the door, Marla Less stopped abruptly. He turned around, and in an even calmer voice he said "I could have easily forced you to listen to me. I am a Mentalist. If I want, you cannot say no. I could've forced you, but I did not. Mentalists never force anyone in doing anything. Still there is a serious misconception among the human beings that mentalists are forcing their will on the general mass.

"Don't you have total control over the army?"

"Of course we have. There is a reason behind it. If we did not maintain this control, the army would split in to two parts--mentalist's army and general people's army. I don't think I need to explain the outcome of that."

Fiha said, "A very important and specialized research is taking place in the physics laboratory. You people have shut down electricity supply in the lab. You are impeding the research progress".

"Correct information, but wrong explanation. Electricity supply has been shut off because a strong storm is approaching. It's a very powerful tornado. The power will be restored as soon as the storm ceases. No matter how much hatred you have for us, you must agree that we never discourage any kind of research work. It is regrettable that we have no scientists amongst us. Mentalists cannot do creative work. Thus those who are creative get special respect from us. Just consider yourself, noble Fiha. Can you imagine how much respect you get?"

Fiha said "This respect is not selfless. You need us creative people for your own interest. You have no other alternative; you are fully dependant on us for scientific and technological progression".

"You just presented another faulty interpretation of another correct piece of information. It is a fact that we cannot progress in science without the help of humans. But whatever progress has been made till date is good enough for us. We don't need more than this. The requirement is little for mentalists. They are easily satisfied. They don't dream about conquering the whole galaxy."

"So they prevent those who have such dreams?"

"No, we don't. As a long time head of the scientific council, you know that we do not stop any kind of research. When you wanted to conduct a research on devising ways of telepathic communication, we did not prevent it. Conversely, we allocated a big budget for that research. But that research was a failure. On the other hand, when we request you to do research on particular issues, you do not agree. Mentalists face some physical problems starting from the age of thirty. A specific kind of enzyme comes out of the pituitary gland. No scientist agreed to conduct research on this area."

"I am not a biologist, so I don't know about this".

"Noble Fiha! You don't know many things. When we get sick, we have to depend on robot doctors. When human doctors come to treat us, they come with deep hatred. We are mentalists, we can sense it."

Fiha said "You don't have doctors?"

"No. There are no doctors among us."

"I did not know that".

Marla Lee said "I took a lot of time of yours. Thank you for listening to me patiently".

Fiha said "Will you tell me a truth?"

"Of course"

"We just had a lengthy conversation. Did you not carefully prepare the field for this discussion? Did you not use your mental powers to influence me?"

Marla Lee said "No, I didn't. I don't know whether you believe me or not, but I am telling the truth. Good Night".

The night was not too good. The storm was terrible. The tornado wrecked the whole science villa. Despite of taking all security measures, twenty three people died. All of them were police men. They had street duty. The did not have the permission to go to the shelters.

I wrote this quite some time ago, but forgot to post it. Hope you like it. You can back track the older chapters in this blog.

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

Fiha Equation: Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Fiha's house is huge. It looks quite similar to a fortress. The high walls are protected with barbwire. There is a signboard about 1000 yards away from the wall, which says:

Entrance of Mentalists is not desired.
I prefer serenity

-Fiha

Only Fiha can write something like this. Mentalists often venture through this road. They see the signboard. Some of them pause for a moment. But they never ask "what the logic behind a signboard like this"? The most important quality of a mentalist is his ability to control anger. They never complain and they never show annoyance over anything. Moreover, one cannot be angry with honorable Fiha. He is beyond these puny emotions. He has no headache about other peoples love and hatred.

Fiha is a lifelong loner. He stays completely alone in this huge house. He had two pet dogs sometime ago. They were hunter dogs and he really liked them. One day, late in the night, he was thinking about time dependent Irreta function. His thoughts got disrupted by the dog's barking. He got extremely annoyed and ordered the immediate disposal of the dogs. The dogs were sent away the very next day. After that, he brought a few birds. However, at one point of time, the chirping of birds seemed unbearable to him as well. So the birds were set free—now only the empty cages are remaining as a memoir of the past.

At present, there are no human beings in the house except Fiha himself. There are three Robots. All of them are worker robots. Two of them are really low in intelligence. They don't know anything other their own work. Lim's duty is to do the housekeeping and to cook the meals. Lim only does this everyday and yet he’s not a great worker. The amount of salt in the food is almost never proper; food is either too saline or salt-less. One of the other Robots works as a security guard. He keeps on walking around the home continuously; making loud thumping noise. The 3^rd robot has nothing particular to do.

This robot is of "PR" nature. His intelligence is not low like the other two robots, rather it's quite high. Fiha bought him as a helping hand. He thought the robot might be able aid him in his work. Later on he changed his mind. Now the robot's only work is to read books whilst sitting in the verandah. Fiha kind of likes this robot. He calls him "Bookworm". Sometimes he indulges in casual conversations with Bookworm, which is conflicting with his usual attitude. A big fault of these PR robots is that they cannot talk in an organized manner. They use unnecessarily long sentences. They love talking. Whenever Fiha returns home, Bookworm tries to start a lengthy conversation with him.

Today, as soon as Fiha entered through the gate, Bookworm came forward and started saying in a very monotonous tone "Sir today you have spent two hours thirty minutes and twenty seconds outside. You were out on the 9^th as well. That day you were out for one hour and forty seconds. Again on the 3^rd..."

"Shut Up", said Fiha.

Bookworm instantly stopped talking. However, that was only for a brief moment. He followed Fiha and said "Sir do you remember you came to the garden yesterday and told me that there were lots of stars in the sky? After listening to that, I decided to find out when more stars can be seen in the sky. To find that out, I studied a lot and I discovered some interesting facts..."

For the second time, Fiha said "Shut up".

He knows Bookworm won't shut up. But that's not a problem. He will now go inside his bedroom. Bookworm won't enter the bedroom. Bookworm doesn’t have access to his bedroom. However, the robot will wait for him in the dining table. If he finds Fiha, he will try to start another conversation. He decided not to give Bookworm this opportunity. He will not go out of his bedroom. He is in a very bad mood. He isn't feeling like eating as well. Whenever he meets and talks with a Mentalist, his mood worsens.

After sitting in a chair for a while, he decided to have his dinner. There's no point in torturing the body. He can as well have some small talk with Bookworm. The poor robot likes gossiping, but doesn't have a partner to do so.

Fiha entered the dining room. Instantly, Bookworm said "Can I talk, sir?"

"No".

Fiha started eating, and realized that the salt problem is still persisting. Not only is it less, the food is almost salt-less. Ironically, two days ago there were extra salt in each and every meal. Maybe it's time to replace Lim. In an annoyed tone, Fiha said "I am not being able to eat anything due to lack of salt. Can't you fix this salt problem, Lim?"

Lim remained silent. Apparently he doesn't have anything to say. Bookworm said "Can I share a small fact regarding salt?"

"No."

"I feel like ignoring your order and stating the fact, but I know that's not possible. I will only request you to allow me to share the fact."

"Okay, go on."

"Our robot Lim never makes a mistake regarding the amount of salt. The problem is yours".

"What do you mean it's my problem?"

"When you're in a good mood, you eat less salt. Again when you're in a bad mood, you crave for more salt. I've observed this for a long time, and reached this conclusion. I think your body needs more electrolytes when you are in an angry state. You can talk to a physicist if you want to. I have collected the addresses of four such specialists. Would you like to contact any of them?"

"No I don't want to speak to them".

"Why does your mood aggravate whenever you go out?"

Fiha did not reply. Bookworm asked "Do you think a lot about Mentalists?"

"No. You should stop talking now."

"If you do not feel like talking in this subject, we can talk on other subjects. Let us talk about the big bang".

" Bookworm!"

"Yes. Sir?"

"Do you need a partner for talking?"

Bookworm did not reply straightaway. Apparently he is immersed in thoughts. Fiha continued “I have just met a young girl named Nuhash. There is twenty percent chance that she will come to this house. If she comes, you’ll find a partner for talking

“Sir, I’m only interested in talking with you”

“Why?”

“I want to write a biography of you. I need a lot of information for this biography. But I don’t have much information. That why I keep on trying to talk with you so that I can get some information in between.”

“Did you get anything?”

“Yes, sir”.

“What did you get?”

“Would you like to read the few pages that I’ve written?”

“No”.

“In the biography, I’ve written that you like the word No very much. Every now and then you say No. Sometimes you say it without thinking much. It’ll be nice if you can check the introductory portion of the biography. There are many interesting information in that section. As an example, there is a surprise at the very beginning chapter. Readers will get a shock after reading the first few lines…”

“What did you write in the beginning?”

“The beginning says—honorable Fiha was brought up by a mentalist family. This family adopted Fiha from an orphanage. They took good care of him, and his childhood was entangled with their love and affection. One cannot deny the role of this family in the full blooming of this extremely talented person. At the age of 12, Fiha left the mentalist family. Later on, he never tried to communicate with his mentalist foster father and mother”.

Saying this, Bookworm paused. Fiha is sitting like a statue. Bookworm said “Did I give any wrong information, honorable Fiha?”

“No, everything is okay.”

“How is the language of the biography?”

“I don’t know anything about language.”

“I wrote the biography using different language techniques. I’ve written a few things poetically as well. As an example…”

Suddenly Fiha got up. Bookworm got up as well. Fiha said “Bookworm, try to communicate with my mentalist parents. Tell them that I want to talk to them”.

“I am sorry to say this, but that’s not possible, sir. I tried before. I wanted to take an interview of them. But mentalists living underground are inaccessible; none can contact them.”

Fiha entered his bedroom. He is feeling restless, and the intensity is increasing by the second. He knows this feeling. This is a different kind of anxiety. Will he calm himself by taking sleeping pills? No, that’s not necessary. He needs to remain restless. He is on the verge of solving the time equation. He knows his brain is working subconsciously. The subconscious mind has already received the solution; the conscious mind is yet to find it. But it will get the solution soon. Now he just needs to keep himself calm. He is now standing in front of the most important scientific inventions of all time.

The solution to time equation.

What will be the result? Will mankind be benefited? Or will it be destroyed? It can’t be told right now. There are some things that cannot be forecasted or predicted. Let’s consider the mentalists.

The true reason for creating mentalists was not successful. Human beings are now divided in to two races. At one side, there are the mentalists with incredible mental powers. On the other side, there are mental powerless normal people. These normal people are being controlled by the mentalists. They control the normal people like puppets. When they ask them to laugh, they laugh. When they order them to cry, they are obliged to cry. The mentalists are forcing these actions. They have that power. They are advancing cool headedly. Their master plan is to convert the entire mankind in to mentalists. This plan cannot be well. Nature did not want mental powered humankind. This is a fake system.

Fiha touched his communicator. He is feeling like talking to someone, and that someone should be a mentalist. It can be anyone. He decided to call Marla Lee.

Marla Lee answered the call in a very surprising tone.

“What is the matter, honorable Fiha? You, calling me at such a late hour in the night”.

“Is it really late?”

“It’s quite late. It is already 11 PM.”

“Did I wake you up?”

“Not really, but I had to get up from bed. I study in bed up to late hours in the night. I am also a night person like you. Can I know what’s going on?”

“I desire to do some reading on Mentalists”.

“Oh okay”.

“Can you help me by providing some books on this matter? You must have books regarding this”.

“Yes, we have. But honorable Fiha, these books are for us. Those who are not mentalists are prohibited from reading these books”.

“I know they are prohibited, and that is why I am asking you”.

“Your subject is physics. Isn’t it good to keep your readings limited to Physics?”

“Does that mean you cannot give me books?”

“You asked, I will definitely provide you with books”.

Fiha said “Thanks. I will now turn off the communicator. Before hanging up, I’ll ask one question. What is the weakest point of the mentalist society?”.

“We don’t have any weak points”.

“You are wrong. Your weakest point is that your society has no creative person. You don’t have any scientist, poet, author or artist among yourselves…am I right?”/

“No, you’re right. But…”

“But…?”

“Not today, we can talk about this some other time. Good night, honorable Fiha. I will send you as small book on mentalists. After reading that book, you won’t feel like reading any other book. Can I send the book tomorrow morning?”

“Can you send it tonight?”

“Of course.”

“Another thing!”, said Fiha

“What?”

“If I want to get married, do I need to take permission from you?”

“You don’t have to. Are you thinking about getting marrid?”

Fiha turned the communicator off. He is angry with himself. Talking about marriage with Marla Lee was totally unnecessary.

--------------

Marla Lee got down from bed. He got dressed quickly. He took out a self-driven car from the garage. He will drive on his own—no robot controlled cars tonight. Late in the night, the streets are mostly empty. Driving a car in the night is fun.

Tonight the streets are emptier than usual. People in Science Villa Dhee 11 are frightened. Some random collisions between people and mentalists have taken place throughout the day and night. No one is out in the streets.

Marla Lee drove towards the highway. He saw stationary highway patrol cars every hear and there. Patrol police is in alerted state.

Suddenly Marla Lee noticed that the two red buttons on the dashboard are turning on and off continuously. This means there is an important news or gadget that he needs to hear. He was not feeling like listening to any important news, but as a regular practice, he turned on the speaker. There is a cautionary message from the Weather department about a devastating hurricane. The Hurricane might go through Dhee 11. As a cautionary step, electric supply in the physics laboratory has been ceased.

Marla Lee couldn’t help frowning.

Fiha Equation: Chapter 3

Fiha Equation: Chapter 3

Nuhash opened the doors.
Fiha asked, "How are you, Nuhash?"
Nuhash kept on staring at him; she looked confused and startled. Is it a dream? Is she still sleeping? Is she seeing the man in her dreams?

"I hope you can recognize me?"

Nuhash is not answering. She is holding the door and standing still.
Fiha talked on—"I was bringing a packet of coffee for you. But I threw it in the dustbin. Now I'm thinking that I should have actually brought it instead of throwing it away. Will you keep me standing at the door?"

Nuhash is still staring at him. She is trying to say something, but she's struggling for words. Fiha said "I don't really need to come inside. I came here to tell you a few important things. I'll leave after saying those. Please listen to me carefully. Before that, I need to know one thing. Are you married?"

She nodded sidewise, stating the negative.

Fiha said, "I've decided to get married. I took the decision suddenly. I don't know any young ladies. You are the only one I vaguely know. Thus I've came to you. If you like me, if you think we can get married, then please come to me. Okay, I'm leaving. Sorry for coming at an odd hour.

With a shaking voice, Nuhash said "Please stay a while".

Fiha replied "No, I won't stay now. You've torn a very favorite book of yours due to me. That was not a good thing to do. Whatever is favorite remains favorite, someone's words don't change it. I said I don't like supernatural stories, but that doesn't necessarily mean that supernatural stories have become bad. You must buy another book. Okay?"

Nuhash is smiling; a shy smile. Fiha did not notice it. He is going down by the stairs. Nuhash is still standing. Her hands are clasping the door. She is now looking like a robot; her eyelashes are not moving at all.

Fiha erased the whole incident from his mind after reaching the streets. It is of no use to think about this right now. If the girl really comes to him, then he'll see what he can do. There's no reason to think about it now, there are many other important things to be done and thought about.

Erine is still standing with his patrol car. In a very homely tone, Fiha said "Please take me to my home. I hope you're not minding my casual behavior?"

Erine smiled. He looked nice. Everyone looks nice when they smile.

"How are you, Erine?"
"I'm fine, sir."
"Do you like this job?"
"Yes I do."
"Are you married?"
"No sir. Policemen are not allowed to get married."
"Who created this rule?"
"The Mentalists"
The car is racing through the empty streets. Fiha felt drowsy. Soon he fell asleep.

Fiha Equation: Chapter 2

Fiha gazed at the sky.

The sun is not visible. Clouds have shrouded the sun. I can look at the sky. Ancient people worshipped the sun. They also worshipped the moon. Stars and planets also received such treatment. But why no one worshipped the sky? Who has more legibility to get worshipped than the sky? God should not be imagined as a confined being. Sun, Moon, Planets and Stars all are confined within their limits. Only the sky is limitless.

“Sir”

A startled Fiha diverted his eyes towards the owner of the voice.

The young man dressed in green said “Can I help you?”

“Only I can help myself. Nobody else can help me. Who are you?”

“I am a patrol police, Sir.”

“Oh okay, a patrol police. I should have known it from your green uniform.”

“Are you looking for an address?”

“I was looking at the sky. Does anyone look at the sky for searching an address?”

“You looked at the sky only a while ago. I have been following you for quite some time. I have noticed that you were reading the road numbers while advancing”.

“Why have you been following me?”

“We have orders that we should follow aimless wanderers. I followed you for the same reason. I just realized a couple of minutes ago that you are the great physicist Fiha.”

“Do you want my autograph? I can sign for you wholeheartedly!”

“Sir, did I annoy you in any way?”

“No, you didn’t annoy me”.

“I have a car with me. I can take you wherever you want to go.”

“Right now I feel like going to the skies. You car cannot fulfill that wish of mine. Where are we now?”

“Sir you have almost reached the far end of the city. If you go 200 yards farther, you will be venturing the prohibited area”.

“The area of the mentalists?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How big is the area of the mentalists?”

“I cannot say that, sir. That area is prohibited for me also.”

“How many mentalists are there in this city?”

“I don’t know. The number is never published. Right now there are ninety thousand seven hundred and eleven civilians in the city.”

“Last year the population was about hundred and twenty thousand. Why did the number decrease?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Are the mentalists monitoring the conversation between you and me?”

“Yes sir. They have direct control over policemen.”

“Is the residential area of the mentalists limited to one particular area, or is it spread throughout the city in different locations?”

“They mostly live in the underground city. No one actually knows how big and farther spread the underground city is. Previously some mentalists would live outside, but now most of them are living there.”

“What is your name?”

“Erine.”

“Erine, have you ever thought that we, as human beings, have been divided in to two sects? One group is living on the earth, and the other is living in the underground city.”

“I don’t think about these things.”

“Nobody thinks. Why nobody thinks about these things?”.

“I don’t know, sir.”

In a tired voice, Fiha said—“We are not allowed to think. Our thoughts and imaginations are controlled. Mentalists define what we will think. They decide when we should be happy. When they think we should be sad, we become sad.

“I beg your pardon sir, aren’t you thinking quite independently?”

“Yeah, I am doing that and I am surprised. Please bring your car, I will go to general residential area, room number 118. I am thinking about meeting a young girl, Nuhash.

Erine quickly strode away. Fiha is standing on the footpath of a wide street. There are very few vehicles on the road; apart from periodic zooming of large automatic trams. It’s a lifeless city. He hasn’t encountered a single child in the whole day. The childcare homes are outside the city. Children are never kept with their parents. They grow up in the childcare centers. Once a year they are allowed to spend some time with their parents.

Where do the mentalist children grow up? Where are the mentalist childcare centers situated? He doesn’t know. Fiha is feeling tired. He is also feeling cold. He doesn’t what day is today. He doesn’t even know what the date today is. He is spending his vacation. He prefers not to remember anything while on vacation. He usually spends his vacation by roaming on streets. He never felt like going outside of the city. He never wanted to see the sea, mountains, jungle or anything like that.

He is fifty years old. He spent a lot of time in this earth. Why not even for once did he feel the urge to go out of this city? Only because the mentalists didn’t want him to. He did not marry. He never felt attracted towards a young girl. He spent his life aloof. Why did he do that? Did not mentalists provoke this behavior? Not only him, no scientist involved in important scientific researches have married. If he was the only one, things could have been explained. But he is not the only one!

Mentalists are using the scientists, because they need their work. They will get what they want. The scientists are nothing but robots to them. They are puppets and the mentalists are the master of these puppets.

This is not the first time Fiha is getting surprised at how efficiently and subtly the mentalists are controlling normal human beings. Maybe he will be surprised on more occasions in the future. But this surprise is losing its charm now.

Once he faced difficulties with Gregorian analysis. He doesn’t have much knowledge in this subject. But Gregorian analysis is extremely important for solving the time equation. It will take a lot of time to master this subject from scratch. His free thinking will be affected. In this situation, he suddenly noticed in the news paper that the famous pundit of Gregorian analysis, Professor Shormone is coming from the arctic to this city for treatment purposes. He is sick. He will cure himself by coming to this city.

Didn’t the mentalists facilitate this?

They are doing everything. Everything is happening according to their plans. Is it really impossible to destroy their plan? How about doing something which he is not feeling like doing?

He doesn’t feel like leaving this city; how about leaving this city for good? He doesn’t enjoy woman company; how about marrying this Nuhash girl? How will it be? Of course, the girl needs to agree. She will not probably agree. Scientists are anything but good husbands.

Erine just brought his patrol car. In a very gentle manner, he said “Sir, sorry for the delay. We will have to go a long way, so I changed the battery cells for the car.”

“Do we need to go a long way?”

“Yes, sir. The residential area is totally opposite from where we are standing now.”

“Okay, let us start our journey.”

to be continued...