Desolation

Paritosh opened his eyes from a slumber. His head was resting against
the window bars. He looked outside, the train had come to a stop at a
station.

Around 40 years back from now, when the air, rivers and lands were
much cleaner, the climate and temperature were more favourable and
places weren’t so crowded, a train journey in a Non AC coach or a
The journey in a Non AC bus was a very pleasant experience and people
enjoyed the journey, feeling the air and smell of all the towns and
cities they passed through.

Paritosh was a young adult in such a time. With a layered haircut and
light beard and moustache on his face and a worry of his family, he
represented what the young men were at that time in the country.

Five years back, with a heavy heart Paritosh had to leave his hometown
along with his family, friends and everyone he knew, for the nearest
metropolitan city. It is there where he wanted to frame the actuality
of his dream to become an architect. He did become one, but was still
in the struggling phase of it. He couldn’t find sufficient time to
escape the city to his hometown all these years.

One day walking back to his house after work, he found his neighbour
awaiting his arrival with a letter in hand. It was a letter from his
father. Paritosh’s grandfather was down with a fever and the situation
was worsening.

‘If you can find the time and come home for a day or two, he would be
very pleased to see your face and it would make the rest of the family
members are happy as well.’ It had been a long time and these lines of the
The letter made Paritosh decide to go to his hometown the very next day.
He went to the nearest neighbour who had a landline telephone and made
a call to his employer. The next evening, in his brown trouser, black
formal shoes and cream coloured shirt, Paritosh stood on the passenger
door of the train while it drifted out of the station.

“The comforting wind seems to have stolen your consciousness for a
while there. By the look on your face, I can guess it was a good
sleep,” said Mr Jayachandran who was the co-passenger who sat on the
seat in front.

Paritosh smiled as he sat up straight and stretched his arms forward,
he looked at his watch, it was 1:22 pm.

“Where are we?” Paritosh asked with his eyes still adjusting to the
brightness outside.

“Some small town, whose name I can neither pronounce nor can I
identify. The train has been here for a while due to some technical
problem. 40 minutes they said it will take, that was 20 minutes ago,”
replied Mr Jayachandran.

Paritosh got up, “I am going to get a cup of tea from the station.
Would you like to have a cup?”

Mr Jayachandran pondered over the offer for a second or two and
replied, “Well… alright but without sugar.”

Paritosh got down the train and spotted a tea stall about 15 steps to
the right. As he walked to it, he realised it was the first time he
had stepped down on the railway station of this kind. He had seen them
while travelling in them but he had never been on them before. It was
quite different from the ones in his hometown and the city he worked
in. It was like the construction was left at a particular phase and no
one bothered to finish it or upgrade it.

Paritosh decided to have his tea standing near the tea stall. He
noticed a few children who had come to the station to see the train.
Unlike aircrafts which most children in such small towns only saw in
the sky, a train could be seen passing a station and on occasions such
as the present one, a train would stop at the station.

Paritosh noticed an elderly gentleman in black coat, white shirt and
white pants sitting on a bench and reading the newspaper. Paritosh
handed money to the boy running the tea stall and told him to prepare
a cup of tea without sugar. Then he walked to the gentleman while
still sipping the tea.

“I hope I am not wrong in assuming you are the station master,” said Paritosh.

“No, you are not wrong,” replied the station master, not looking at
Paritosh’s face. He had caught a glimpse of Paritosh walking towards
and knew how the conversation would go down. Paritosh understood
and gave a polite smile.

“I am sure you have been asked this before, but if it is not much of a
disturbance, will you tell me how much time remains before the train
can I start moving again?” Paritosh asked.

“Well, I am not too aware of the technicalities of the train, but
still if you want to take my word for it then maybe another eight to
ten minutes,” replied the station master.

Paritosh walked back to the tea stall, threw his empty cup in the
dustbin and collected Mr Jayachandran’s tea. Then he headed back
inside the train and back to his seat.

“The station master says another ten minutes, but I think it could be
twenty more,” Paritosh said, handing the cup of tea to Mr
Jayachandran.

The train started moving after twenty-five minutes and Paritosh spent
the way conversing with Mr Jayachandran. Two hours later Mr
Jayachandran’s station arrived and he got down but not before giving
Paritosh his address. Paritosh promised to write letters to him.

Paritosh spent the rest of the way half asleep and half awake, until
his stop arrived. Paritosh got down with his blue suitcase. The
The suitcase will be considered vintage today, but back then it was the
latest.

Paritosh looked around the railway station of his home town, not much
had changed in the last five years. The station was well made to begin
with and on a look at the station, one could notice the money and
effort that had been spent in the making of the station. Even today
the primary structure of the station remains the same even though
laden with the latest technology.

Paritosh found a vacant auto rickshaw outside the station and soon got home.

The family maid opened the door. She had been working in the house for
about thirty years now. Paritosh tried to form a smile, but she didn’t
seem quite interested in receiving it.

“I hope you are doing well. Is everyone present at home?” Paritosh asked

“Well Mrs Ganeri and your aunt have gone to the market and your uncle
is out for work,” replied the maid.

“… and father?” asked Paritosh

“Mr Ganeri is in his room”

Paritosh noticed how the maid was reluctant in giving him that last
piece of information along with no mention of his grandfather.
Paritosh headed to his father’s room along with his bag.

Paritosh reached his father’s room and noticed how it was dimly lit
and the curtains were only open enough for a sliver of light to enter.
He saw his father sitting on a rocking chair and smoking pipe, his
back was towards Paritosh.

“…. Father” spoke Paritosh

Mr Ganeri became a little startled by the voice but soon he recognised
it and got up, “Paritosh? You have come.”

“Yes, I got on the train yesterday after reading your letter,”
Paritosh said as he walked to open the curtains, “there is still
plenty of sunlight outside, no harm in letting a little light in the
room.”

Mr Ganeri kept looking at Paritosh and then he said, “You are late..”

Paritosh pulled the curtains apart and let the light in the room,
“Yes, the train had a..”, in the daylight Paritosh saw something he
had not seen before in this room, on the wall the photograph of his
grandfather with a garland.

Paritosh looked at his father and understood what he meant by Paritosh
being late.

Mr Ganeri started speaking, “two days back in the morning when your
mother went to your grandfather’s room with the morning tea, she found
him unresponsive. The doctor said that he passed away in sleep.”

A shocked Paritosh sat down on the nearby chair, trying to process
what he had heard while Mr Ganeri sat back on his rocking chair. That
night Paritosh ate very little at dinner and that too upon the
insistence of his mother.

He stayed in his grandfather’s room at night without a drop of sleep.
After two days of stay Paritosh went to his father.

“Father, I am going away tomorrow,” said Paritosh.

Mr Ganeri who was listening to the radio turned down its volume and
looked at Paritosh.

“I am sure your mother would feel better if you stayed a few days
more,” Mr Ganeri said in a tone Paritosh had recently learnt could
come out of the mouth of a man who always spoke with such strength and
confidence.

“I am afraid I will have to rejoin my work soon. A lot is pending,”
Paritosh replied

“You will come back as soon as this pending work is over?” Paritosh’s
mother asked that evening while helping him pack his clothes.

“I will try,” Paritosh left the t-shirt he was folding and sat down on
the bed with a sigh, “to tell the truth, I cannot stand it, the
absence of grandfather in the house. I don’t think there hasn’t been a
time when he hasn’t been here. I just keep thinking about it and my
mind cannot find any rest.”

Mrs Ganeri looked at Paritosh with understanding eyes, “You were too
small when your grandmother passed away, so you never realised it in
this manner. But this time you feel it in all your senses. It never
gets easier Paritosh; we can never stop the pain or be prepared enough
for anyone passing away. Death will happen no matter what and we have
to learn to live with it. Everyone will go one day, even us…”

Paritosh hugged his mother before she could say anything further.
Tears fell, many tears which had been held inside.

Paritosh stood at the passenger door of the train looking at his
parents who had come to see him off, just like his grandfather used to
when Paritosh and his parents went anywhere.

Paritosh ended up staying for a week. He was feeling a lot better now.
As the train started moving, Paritosh looked at his parents and said
in a loud voice, “I will come back when I find the chance and this
time it won’t be years.”

Paritosh’s parents smiled as the train moved further and further and
then it was out of sight.

Written by Anuran Chatterji

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