SILENT RHAPSODY

If the river were to tell its story: ‘I came from melting snow of the Himalayas, flowed down the mountains and found my way to meet the sea. It wasn’t a smooth journey: I hit rock at several places. I had to bend many times and fall steeply at certain points. I passed through dense jungles where only wild beasts roamed. I’m termed holy. Ascetics live near my banks. Pilgrims swarm to take a dip at places designated as holiest on my way. My waters are home to several varieties of fish on which fishermen make a living. The occasional crocodile often wades in to feed on fish when hungry. I’m revered and also feared as I could overflow and flood large tracts of land.’  

It was a nice morning just outside Majra where the forest region commenced. The birds were up screeching, looking for food. A few monkeys were jumping from branch to branch and between trees looking for fruits and nuts to eat. Overall it was desolate at that hour. And it looked as if there were no marks of modern civilisation such as telephone wires, power cables, TV cables and the like passing through that neighbourhood. The ferry quay in Majra stood under a stately tree. A young man in worn out jeans with a T-shirt above it was seated on the top stair of the quay in dappled sunshine as he looked intently into his phone where he was playing a game. He was interrupted as a voice came saying “Hey!”

He looked up and saw a thin bearded man with flowing unkempt locks standing near him holding a patched up bag in his hands. He was dressed in a dirty dhoti and had only a cloth covering his torso. Must be a farm labourer, thought the fellow with the phone. The stranger said “Brother, I’m new to Majra. How can I get to Shampur? I’ve to consult a famed sorceress there.”

 ‘Phone’ said to himself this fellow is a true rustic. The fool believes in sorcery! His accent and terms used definitely show he is an uneducated fellow. I haven’t heard of any famed sorceress in Shampur! Setting aside his phone he said “Shampur is on the other side of the river. There’s no bridge nearby. You’ve to take the ferry.”

“May be you’re from these parts. Would you also be waiting for the ferry?”

“We live near Azadgunj upstream. I’m not waiting to take the ferry. Having walked all the way from home I was tired, and so was taking rest here. My father has sent me to collect fruits from the orchard not far from here.”

“I’ve heard of Azadgunj but haven’t been there. I remember having been told about the attack on police near the village.” 

“Yes. It was last year. Naxals set off a mine on the road outside when a police vehicle was passing over it. The naxal army is very strong in the forest area here. We were told by people in the know that even armed police hesitate to come here except in groups.”

“You seem to be well informed about naxals.”

“Yes. Their leader is Bravo. We don’t know who he is except that he is a local. He arranges for arms and ammunition and whatever else is needed to win the war. The naxal army seems to be quiet for the nonce. Looking at you I had thought you were one of them.”

 He shook his head and changing the subject asked “When do you think I will get a ferry to cross to Shampur?”

He said “I’ll check.” He spoke over the phone and then said “I asked a contact. He says the ferry is there upstream but is waiting for passengers.”

“Is there only a single ferry service?”

“Yes. There’s only one ferry service here and it’s run by one Ramchand.”

“I suppose I must wait.”

He nodded and said “Let me go now.” He left carrying some bags which were piled up near him.

The wait for ‘beard’ to board the ferry continued. He sat on a step leading to the water as he watched the river. There was no traffic at all on it. Soon there were distant sounds of drumbeats and blowing of conches. He rightly guessed that a funeral procession was passing somewhere nearby. He looked around: Not a cat nor a stray dog. It was very peaceful. After may be an hour, a man in white pyjamas and red shirt, with a fishing net over his shoulders, approached and asked if the ferry had left. ‘Beard’ said “No. I’m waiting for it.”

The red shirt said “Ferryman Ramchand is a lazy fellow. But he makes money. I’m sure he runs contraband stuff and so on sometimes in the night though it could be easily done during the day in this wilderness where there’s no law.”

“Doesn’t he make enough plying the ferry?”

“I think he does. His ferry is capable of carrying 6 passengers. He can make several trips. Sometimes he runs his ferry at night when I’m sure he gets more money.”

“Is the ferry motorized?”

“Yes. I’ve heard it sometimes breaks down or runs out of fuel.  He plies it alone. His son is lazy and seldom runs the ferry.” He paused and then asked in a whisper “Are you a member of the naxal army?”

“No. I’ve no strength and have been ill. Why do you ask?”

“Just to know. People say Bravo pays citizens around here to join the Naxal army which he heads. May be I should join them instead of catching fish which is my calling.” He paused and added “Though without doubt Shampur swarms with fish!” He thought a little and then said “Since the ferry hasn’t come in yet, I’ll put off fishing till tomorrow. I’ll now go home and take my wife who is ill, to the hospital.”

The fisherman left. The wait of ‘beard’ continued. He guessed another hour could have passed when he sighted the ferry in the distance. It was coming very slowly. Now a man wearing a dhoti with a grey shirt on top, came with a woman in a red sari obviously to board the ferry.

The ferry arrived noisily as Ramchand momentarily raised the engine and then stopped it. He then anchored the boat tying it with a rope to a pillar in the quay. Four passengers got off. Ramchand was the last to alight from the ferry. He was short and hefty and was clean shaven. He looked middle-aged and was dressed in a long white shirt over pyjamas. Looking around he asked “Only three passengers this morning?” He looked at those waiting and said “I’ll go and have a cup of tea at Sohan Singh’s shop. May be more passengers will join in the meantime.”

Ramchand returned after nearly 45 minutes and asked “Still no more passengers?”

The woman snapped “We’ve waited enough. Take us across.”

Ramchand grunted and addressing the woman said “Metty, you’re a regular passenger. You know I work hard but don’t make enough money. Now with only 3 passengers.........”

Metty cut in and said “You always grumble about money! Actually people say you’ve earned a lot,”

Ramchand was silent a few moments and then said “You can’t shut gossip.”

“Okay. Drop me at Shampur. Then you can take my husband to Azadgunj. I’m sure you’ll pick up passengers on your way.”

Ramchand again grunted and asked ‘beard’ “Where’re you going?”

“I‘ve been waiting may be 3 hours or more. Take me also to Azadgunj.”

“You 2 would’ve to pay extra to reach Azadgunj.” He specified the amount and then said “That is my rate. No use grumbling.” He looked sharply at ‘beard’ and said “I hope you’ve the money?” The man nodded.

After collecting the fares Ramchand pulled the ferry free of the anchor and got ready to move. With two pulls of the engine-starting rope, it started with a gentle roar and the ferry set off. Ramchand sat in front steering the boat. They soon reached Shampur where the woman disembarked. There were no more passengers at that hour and Ramchand said “Two more stops and I’ll turn back to Azadgunj. It’s unlikely there would be passengers in the stops ahead which are practically in forests. But you never know!”

The boat was now going through dense forests on either bank. Suddenly ‘beard’ hit Metty’s husband a powerful blow on the head with an iron pipe which he drew out of his bag, and upended him in the water. Ramchand saw the man struggling overboard and shouted “That fellow can’t swim. He’ll drown. We have to help him.”

 “Let him die. You proceed.”

Ramchand turned and shouted angrily “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”

“I’m the son of police superintendent Dutta. You must remember you were almost killed by him in an earlier encounter but narrowly escaped. I can see the cicatrice on your cheek caused by my father about which he had told me. You’re the man known as Bravo. You set off the mine which killed my father and 22 policemen last year There’s a prize on your head of 500,000 rupees. Nobody will get it: I’ve come to settle the score on my own with you. I’ve been planning this move ever since I came to know you were Bravo. A little bird from your group told me and gave me proofs to show he wasn’t lying.”

Ramchand was furious and shouted “I’ll kill you.”

“Try. I’m going to take revenge for my father’s death. I got rid of Metty’s husband as I didn’t want a witness to my actions.” He pulled out a gun from his bag and saying “You must suffer” shot at Ramchand’s knee. The boatman shouted in pain and collapsed in the boat. Another shot at the fallen Ramchand and the man was dead. Dutta junior pushed Ramchand’s body into the river and it floated away. He then threw into the water the gun and iron pipe he had used. The boat was straying, but he steered it ashore and silenced it. Jumping off, he undressed, threw his wet clothes into the river and changed into jeans and a fashionable T- shirt. He groomed his hair looking into a phone he had picked out of his bag. He then threw the bag into the river and went his way. He had acted his part well as a rustic. Nobody could have guessed he was a post doctoral researcher at a university in England and had come to India after learning Bravo’s identity. He would be taking the next available flight to England.

END