WHY SO MUCH ACTIVITY IN THIS YEAR, A DOCTOR WHO WRITES SAYS IT.

Goodbye 2014 , my yearbook.

I was in leave for the previous two months when the New Year arrived, at home busy in preparing for an entrance examination for higher study, January was time for last few laps as exam was in first week of February. In the previous year I was selected but it was at last moment when I could not have got the government permission in time. I was confident for this year. The main distraction was Aravind Kejriwala, Delhi election and my recurrent related communication with some friends. I was very happy as I read and revised Williams Obstetrics from which last year`s 100% questions was given. I finished from page 1 to the end; I was immensely satisfied as an Obstetricians working in a remote rural community health center would be doing this at the age of 47. Unfortunately pattern changed I did not qualify. So in one sense my three months leave did not yield, the level of frustration was too high.

Meanwhile during last part of previous year I once casually threw a small status update in face book with the title ‘Annyatha Mullyaheena’ in English that invited very sharp encouraging comments from some friends staying across the globe and also from my close relations. It was my childhood memoir.

I was and now also am very much uncomfortable writing in English as my educative background is my mother tongue Odiya and the level of English teaching in school was made intentionally low. One example is the rhyme Twinkle Twinkle that is for a preschool English medium child was given in our high school. English was made a single paper scraping the second paper. The second paper was how to write precise, narration, drafting all very useful for learners of a foreign language that we were deprived of.

 As a student of Science and latter in medical science I always thought my English was poor and writing in English would never go with me. I still feel handicapped.

I always read My Droncharya Guru Sri Manoj Das and feel pride to tell I am Ekalavya to him. I till now have never seen him. Whenever I write an Odiya story I pick up a random story of him and read it then start writing even if the themes are miles apart and the quality can be his Akash to my desert land but who can stop any one in emulating someone. I had never read his English literature even if I did read all most all his Odiya creations.  I also read a good number of English books of other authors. I never in my dream even thought I can write in English, I never longed to do so.

Coming back to my failure in exam I was so frustrated and depressed that I thought something abnormal would definitely happen, I madly entered in the social media Face book and played a lot of chess on line. I was in unrest. Many a time I felt is this a doctor, a busy obstetrician, a man who brought technology within his own capacity to a rural village, employed 6-7 people in his set up in addition to heavy govt work. (working hour of mine is 20 hours per day). What can one do after doing same garage work repeatedly, what more can one do after being forced to manage a case of ruptured uterus without anesthesia and without support of blood when shifting to other station was definitely fatal, thank God. Now the world is mocking at the cycle pump laparoscopy, I once denied doing and implementing it in our CHC, I was considered arrogant and disobedient.

 It is a human nature to improve but I failed at the entrance gate.

At one hand I have huge amount of loan invested in a poor return project at the other hand my mind denied to do the same work to earn. 

Maa Saraswati saved me I went on reading and writing to combat my frustration.

I communicated my frustration to my father like teacher Sri Nrusingha Charan Moharana and he as usual I feel was the best man to reach when one feels depressed, a healing touch. With hIm I connected me to Late Sri Ashok Kumar Senapati @ Charusilasaranji my brother and financer for study.

I never imagined I can read the following books in a single year in the midst of my profession. These are 1-History of Sikhs Part 1 by Sardar Khuswant Singh as I finished the great died. 2- Many short stories from Malgudy days by R K Narayanan, 3- Many short stories from Sardar`s selected stories of different authors vol 1. 4- Madness of 1947 stories by Penguin that consists of Train to Pakistan by Sardar, Tamas, Sahitya academy winning novel by Bhisham Sahani, and stories of Saadat Hassan Manto, a big and powerful collection, 5- Shatabdi Purush the life story of Karmaveer Gourishankar Ray that is Utkal Deepika  and that is the history of Odisha from 1860s onwards by Dr Suvendra Mohan Srichandan Singh, the book was  harvested from college squire foot path (so sad). 6- Reread a big portion of Atmacharita of FM, 7- Milana Trisandhya a KAVYA by poetess Pravati Rout, 8- Bulldozers of Sri Manoj Das, reread 9- Amruta Fala by him reread, 10- About 50 stories of him 11- Sripada Sandhanare by him, 12- Smrutira Pradipa by him, 13- A lot of poems and essays by friends in face book, 14- Some writing by Sri Aurobindo,15- Portion of tale of two cities by Charles Dickens too hard to understand, 16- One night@callcenter by Chetan Bhagat, 17 – The Krishna Key by Ashwin Sanghi now reading will finish before 31st , 18- I feel blessed to add Williams Obstetrics at the beginning.

Probably in no single year of my life I had read so much.

On friend Subrat Mishra`s suggestion I told my son to create a blog for me that he did and this is my 25^th post in last five months. I also had published one big Odiya story ‘SANCHITA SWAVIMAN’ where the powerful protagonist is a lady. An article for children is published in a magazine. Writing an Odiya story Jajabara for children had given me immense pleasure as it was written when the tragic Pakistan school killing happened that forced a change in the story line. Although I am mourning with the whole world the creative modulation possible by me had given me confidence.

 I always feared rejection by editors that hampered my passion for writing and had an inferiority complex as a writer, I never like to send a story to any one I also feel although many of my friends are in nice position to help me in this regard I shall never ask for help that never gives pleasure. My school teacher Sri Sashi Bhusan Nanda seeing me going out through the hostel door that was the back door of the school told, “Rabi never use the back door neither for entry nor for exit.” This was a strong teaching 32 years back. It is better to publish in an unknown local magazine published by an unknown editor in a remote area than trying to publish with all possibility you would be rejected. What is the need as well? Put in your blog you will get more pleasure seeing some people from localities where none of your friends stay say France, Poland, Ukraine, Russia, Indonesia, Romania do read it and they read a repeat article. I through this article salute them. This is not to offend my friends who are reading it at known localities, I feel nice to communicate with them through my BAKBAZ.

 My basic back ground and feeling is down to earth type.  I feel a class five student writing a small poem needs attention and nobody has the right to reject, maybe one is unable to get her point, it maybe her fault in expressing, but also possible it is the poverty in understanding on the part of the editor. So right now I feel I shall put all my stories in blog and will give to a magazine only on demand. My blog has started earning. The above paragraph is a polite confession of a writer having intense inferiority complex not arrogant one dear friends.

Earlier I was forcing me to think a plot to write a story now themes and ideas are too many and forcing me to write; I have to control myself as too many articles may bear monotonous style and too predictable text. More ever my doctor`s profession pricks and pinches me,”Fool you are neglecting the laboring lady on the couch.” I also feel the same labor pain when a story is whirling in my mind, it is too often and too many now. Still the present position is I am a medical professional who is writing but the equation fights inside me to change position.

Oh yes I am now an ordinary bilingual writer who writes in Odiya the one east Indian language that has earned classical status in my nation, my native language and English the way I know it. Hope I am able to express me completely in both languages and gradually I have overcome the shyness to call me a writer and a bilingual one.
  

In the year I increased my chess online rating from 1300 to 1600 plus. I had left playing for the last two months hope it is sacrificed for the next five years when I shall reenter to binge playing to revive mental function, chess is the best tonic for brain. Good bye chess.(The passage is for the master player a doctor Gata Kamsky who enters the circuit and vanishes.)

The year as a family man I do not know what must be my so understanding wife and children are thinking, they sometimes feel this man had gone, a gone case. Sometimes they feel proud identifying several good aspects as well, without a working and earning wife who can be so absurd. When politicians pray vote in the name of remaining single I feel the irritation. If they are mocking at family people I invite my readers to study the so many recent or just previous CMs with single status of different states and feel how honest they are. The political system is dependent on black money at election all will do scams to gather money for next election it has nothing to do with if one is a bachelor or a widow. So I have taken the side of the family man who seems to be the most promising to change the system.

My children have turned adults and I feel they are in right spirit though from outward it seems they did not perform as per the present day norms, I believe their progress is no less than the desired. I am happy with my wife and children and extended family as well. The best part of the year is my parents at the beginning of the year were here at Cuttack and so also at the end of the year. On health issues they should stay with my physician wife that my brothers and relations now realized. God has kept my father healthy at 80 and my Bou healthy at 76. Who knows what will happen to them. My mentally unsound aunt passed away this year.

We travelled a few places outside the state and within too. In the month of February Sarita and children planned a tour to Ludhiana, Amritsar, Wagha boarder, and Baishnodevi temple. In the golden temple the religious man to collect my small donation was asked by me, how much should I pay for four persons to take lunch in the Guruka Langar without knowing it was too ridiculous a question. He did not like it. The reason I asked this question is, we always pay to take a meal in ISKCON temple or in the Anand bazaar of Srimandir and how without paying a kitchen would run. Whatever he informed was not with soothing voice neither with kinder language. Later when I read A history of Sikhs by Sardar Khuswant ji I could judge my error. Still I feel my ignorance though not a plea the man should have judged I did not dishonor the Guruka Langar . I did subscribe a small receipt and did not gather the inspiration to take my food there though I had a strong desire.

At wagha I felt too emotional I felt the gate should be broken the people who are doing anti slogans in the name of patriotism should embrace each other and the two countries should be one, I always felt differently when question of India and Pakistan came. Let me live in my space of patriotism. I imagine I am a kid my home is in this side and my mother`s place in that side, such a huge tragedy.

Our driver a Sikh, a seventy five year old but strong retired army driver gossiped from emergency, Sanjay Gandhi, Punjab unrest, Vindrenwala,  blue star operation, Indira Gandhi and went on. He was very knowledgeable and so honest. He is a pension holder but still driving at such old age with so ferocious speed but with precision, he guided us the best way our money and time can be saved. After a day’s hectic tour he drove us to Katra in the night via Pathankot and selected our lodge at the most affordable price.

The visit to Vaishno Devi  was in a very bad weather with rain and drizzles of ice speckles. We went walking as we thought maximum PUNYA would be gained by that. My younger son got separated and in such a difficult road with very bad weather with so much apprehension it was Matadi`s  divine attraction that pulled us there where the man on inquiry informed us Soham had gone for Darshan reaching ahead of us. We returned each one riding a pony or horse.

The driver `s name I have forgotten as he was always telling he is known as BULLDOZER in the whole of Ludhiana and many parts of Punjab. My children called him BULLDOZER uncle although he was nearer to my father`s age. We could not offer him a cup of tea even. He paid for his meals. We thought by any means we shall give him a memento in the next day but the tour operator changed the vehicle next day and he did not receive our call. He no doubt will remain as the most knowledgeable, the most honest, the strongest old man to drive us anywhere. I somehow guessed he is with some tragedy which I wanted to explore next day but it was in vain. May God keep the Sikh as a strong as a bulldozer for years.

We visited Bangalore in November and enjoyed seeing the historic Mysore palace and the splendorous Brindavan garden.

In the state we visited Buddhist places like Dhauligiri  on 12^th December and Ratnagiri , Udayagiri, Olasuni on 19^th December.

Another big influence Sri Dhruba Charan Khuntia my brother in law joined face book, he is starting a noble work and there is all possibility we will join it.

It was nice to do a get-together of the parents of the three roommates during our MBBS days. I and my wife have also planned a surprise good thing for my parents. My father in law we lost two years back and too often I felt for him, he at his death bed even wanted to know how my project was running. My mother in law whom my wife and son visited this week is fine. All others in my family and extended family remained well in the year.

In social front face book connected so many old friends from school and college days a lot many interaction happened. The friend circle increased even to other fields like literature, politics, and philosophy and so on.

It was a happy happening that Prof Raseswari Panigrahi joined politics and became an MLA of the ruling party.

 It was my great pleasure to be connected to a great politician Ex MP Bhabani Shankar Hota of Sambalpur, I found him as my most respected politician, his philosophy I identify myself, it was my great pleasure to communicate with him through mails. Unlike other arrogant people he found time to respond and I am highly influenced by his socio political views, he is a man from the era when learned people joined politics. Now wining ability is the only criterion in selecting a candidate, and all know what that ability is, hopeless situation. Not hopeless, another national politician Mr AK has influenced me, I was not a corrupt man but to tell all my thinking to be clean was hypocrisy, now I feel I should be more proud of. It is his influence and as my elder brother a retired army man Sri Kartik Chandra Senapati a totally non political man became an active member of that party. I am connected to political thinking from the age of ten from 1977 but never any one influenced like AK did so I see a positive change is in process. As regard to NAMO, a phenomenon he is taking several progressive and dynamic steps but I never can subscribe the right wing thinking that surrounds him. Whatever it may be he is winning too many hearts that who the fool can deny.

God probably saves this country at difficult times and I am optimistic. In my state the political scenario is too disheartening; I feel Mr Kharabela Swain filing against chit fund corpus fund is the only positive sign from an Odiya politician. A leader is badly required for this state of otherwise ordinary politicians. I mean in the age group of 35 – 55.

My younger brother Kishore remained our platform in our village, well in his profession as an advocate busy in constructing a house, a nice development.

This year I the fool had several debates with many fools in social media; it had no positive result and was unnecessary. I fought with Gandhi haters, with those who wanted ghost fight between Patel ji and Nehru ji, those who tarnished the institution of mother son, son in law, someone`s wife, girlfriend, Ramzadi …. Zadi, Godse praisers, who virtually wants to kill Nehruji and so on, I should not have done this as that is not my role and I am not powerful enough, who am I to advise people who are fools like me.  However one exception was there that the following paragraph states.
        

In late October and throughout November and part of December I was involved in the controversy surrounding my unseen Guruji Sri Manoj Das as regards to Seashore honorarium, hope I played my role positively and appropriately, in the process I gained so many likeminded pleasant friends, others please excuse me I am taking the name of the leader Sri Samir Ranjan Das only as it is too long a list. Samirbabu is doing praiseworthy work. I was amazed to listen so many speeches by Guruji from You tube. I not as a fan, not as an Indian or Odiya but as an active literary man do feel Sri Manoj Das is far above this controversy and it was a very bad thing to drag the man who is a sage like person. It was my duty and I did it without any attachment to anything.

Now I am passive in that circle as my children counseled me not to be obsessive.

On a person or team’s social responsibility I became very happy that a tribal girl who left study finally became a qualified staff nurse with my team’s effort, we did not spend a lot, her family did it but sure it was only for our decisive guidance and support. Now she will be a more empowered woman, a better mother and with more social utility as an Indian. We also connected ourselves to a school for physically challenged people in a small but continuous way, very pleasing.

I got a promotion and with the new posting a new equation very soon is going to develop after that I shall reposition my dots and revise my plans so I am absolutely vacant in my thinking. Hope Lord will show me the right path.

Carry on message for next year, 1) Use the social media for your optimum benefit and that of society, do not allow it to distract you from progress, 2) No chess this year, 3) Accept the new posting gracefully even if it may create problem, 4) You are not suitable for politics as you have always an opinion that may differ the boss, 5) be communicative with available learned people and young ones who wait your suggestions 6) Without professional pleasure all other activities are meaningless do whatever is better for your profession, 7) Writing for children is difficult but competition is less, it is a required thing and most importantly it gives the ultimate creative pleasure as a story should have customers and children are best customers of stories, 8) If a spade is told a spade by a person he may face a lot of problem but if he writes a fiction where he calls a spade as an atom bomb through a clown like character it is the character who told not the writer, better to express the criticism through fiction.

I pray God to make this world and its inhabitants better in the year 2015.      

A NEW STORY IN HATI SERIES.

onenight@kanpur.rlystation..A Hati series story. Dt.20.12.2014.

Senapati! A growing intense voice called me as he entered my room with his customary laughter, there was no chance he can be any one else other than the Sumo looking Dr Hati. Where the man had been for such a long gap? He was here and he was not here, I guessed my need was felt as whom else can listen his funny stories. To avoid it I after greeting him instantly asked a question. I was to travel a place that is not covered by any direct train from Odisha, my hosts advised me not to take the foolish step to plan a Taxi journey from Aurangabad to the place Chinchu in Maharastra as the road route is rough and dominated by a political group who had turned hostile to north Indians. Although I am from east they advised me a train journey. So I wanted a catching train from Aurangabad to Chinchu and wanted Dr Hati to suggest what should be the safe time gap so that I face no problem for any delay of my arrival at the station.

Hati laughed aloud, and suggested to listen to his experience eleven months back in the Kanpur Forkhabad route.

It was Kushal`s marriage ceremony, he clarified Abhisekh Purwar the only child of Ex Supt Engineer Minor Irrigation Mr Anup Kumar Purwar who was so close a family friend when we worked at Rajkhariar in Nuapada district of Odisha. He now is software professional at London. Time passed kid Kushal was marrying and it was a happy journey as Hati expected. The train was delayed by three hours and the connecting train had left half an hour before. First he rushed to the inquiry to ask him for help. The person advised to see the time table on the big hoardings and select the suitable one. he had to take several people`s help to select which were the trains that touched Forkhabad, not being convinced purchased a time table book and finalized the train after doing a mini research. Hati laughed again it was after seven hours that meant he would directly join the barat.

Next hurdle was to justify the train was delayed and allow his existing ticket as a valid one. So he went on to meet persons on several chairs as per the advice of any guard, made himself humble to explain everyone what the problem really was and one person pointed another person for a repeat show. Every time he had to thank the person for his patient hearing as if he was a problem to their work, and he was being unduly worried for a normal expected problem, he should have opted for the train at ten hours gap, it was Hati`s fault.

 Patience pays he found out the correct chair, where the person had vast experience on the subject and needed no listening before putting his initials. Hati still stood there as the initials looked like two mosquitoes and the man did not explain what it meant. The man got annoyed and told, you can move any where you wish with this initial. He sniffed the importance of his own initials like a drug addict sniffs his kicking substance. Hati laughed to the man`s more discomfort and told is it valid for today or any day any place any train as he ended after complete control of his laughter with a calculated moronic look. Get lost man. But Hati wanted a refund of the differences as he had a reserved II AC ticket converted to a non reserved non AC general ticket by this mosquito looking initials. The man became furious and told with no compassion, you can do it after you meet Mr X to whom you are referred so wanted back the ticket.

 Hati hided his identity being an obstetrician and told sorry sir it was his own fault and it is a professional byproduct of a psychiatrist, and passed a sarcastic comment that the other man had nothing to do but listen. Soon he wanted to get fresh somewhere, so disappeared from that scene.

He travelled as a baggage in a general compartment paying the price of IIAC class.  He could have gone further but wanted to refrain. He reached directly in the Barat, enjoyed their local customs.

So I told yes, this was your bad experience then.

Hati laughed again, as he told the worst was to arrive. Very next morning all the old family friends of Khariar consisting of a doctor`s family, an engineer`s family and a local business man they left Forkhabad with our host`s return gift and his enlarged smile with no sign of tiredness, Mr Purwar. They had to reach Kanpur by a common train but there after all were destined to different places with different trains , it was a very nice time to discuss old memories, they all had their spouses except Dr Hati. Hati`s train was first to leave Kanpur but it was a special train running three hours late. He had to see them all off one by one and then looked at the time table on the electronic display board that showed the special train stretched its delaying hours.

They did not notify it in a single go, every time Hati was thinking thirty more minutes the next display came as two or three hours late. When the inquiry was asked he told it was a special train. Hati laughed again.

“Senapati! Do you remember how the local tea seller at the first posting place behaved? If you ask him for a special tea he only adds a spoonful of extra sugar making the taste horrible. So the special term always makes things special not necessarily a better one. Like you and I are specialists now, may be not better in real.”

There was no chance to leave the station as the train time gradually changed. Disgusted Hati due to last night`s sleeplessness and heavy food of the wedding dinner was in too discomfort to take any food and by the time he felt hungry the canteen`s lunch serving finished. Sometimes it so happens, no problem bread, banana, chips etc did save him from stomach ache. He had limited options and observed the notifications on different boards. He looked deep into the faces of pick pockets displayed on the platform to make people careful. He felt angry, in a land of Ratnakar turning to Valmiki was the police justified to stick these posters, would it not compromise the life of these ordinary criminals who picked up pockets, was it not violation of human rights, he felt too angry. By that time he was on the counter of wheelers to choose a book.

He selected one night@callcenter by Chetan Bhagat. He had to laugh again somebody had picked his wallet, ha ha ha human rights he uttered to the astonishing amusement of the salesman cum owner and few other customers.

A man can laugh at the loss of a purse!

 Such a bad day for him! He laughed again, he felt sorry for the thief as well, that purse although had a few hundred or less valued notes had no valuable cards or documents. He counted how many times in his life poor and lower people betrayed him against the betrayers of upper strata and betrayal by the system as a whole. He found out, the system failed him more often. He could not be happy but could not gather anger against the pickpocket. He drew a few bucks from ATM and tried to forget all problems he has faced till now.

He purchased the book and sat at a place in the waiting room cum entrance to the station from where he can easily see the electronic display board.

Yes Indian railway notified train number 538724 SPL train from New Delhi to Bhubaneswar was expected only after three hours, he wanted to go inside city to have some good food but who knows already ten hour late train if got a chance may catch up some lost time and it may come within an hour. Better not to leave the place, the circular  platform around a huge pillar that cannot allow you to sleep  even if you did not sleep last night after a hectic participation in a marriage ceremony. He went to the railway canteen to have a standard north Indian vegetarian thali roughly at seven PM, oh he felt refreshed with addition of a coffee. He then evacuated his full bladder to add to the comfort, with no care to the smell and the ugly images on the walls of the toilet. At peace with himself he returned back to the seat that was still preserved for him as requested to the young couple when he had left the place. Hati could not know the couple are married or just friends as the lady was with salwar and kamij with some bangles none of which was red or white sankha, neither she wore any vermillion, she might be in her twenties only, with a purse that suggested modern, she seemed very happy in company of the young man a very handsome tall and sharp looking man who wore a look of concern and responsibility.

Hati further told it was his own inability to differentiate between Hindi and Urdu for which he could not know they were married or just friends. He was already sure the lady could never be a sister to the man. That never was a difficult task to sum up for any adult anywhere. If they were speaking Hindi then they were friends, if it was Urdu then might be married but also could be friends. Hati wanted the presence of the couple at least till his special train arrived, so he asked when their train was expected.

The lady was pinched by the man as she stopped telling anything, the man answered in the morning.

The answer did not satisfy Hati, why a young couple reaches in a station in the evening if the train is in next morning. But they have already done a favor by keeping his seat reserved, maybe there is a story in it but it may be too private to narrate to a stranger like him. Better to read the book one night@callcenter, although the name suggested the book is a little spicy it was as usual of Bhagat enjoying time pass. Hati being familiar to his other novels could read it in speed with predictable lines he skipped to save time. It was month of January, cold wind got its wings to enter the breeches in the station, and soon everybody pooled over their shields against cold, the young man put on his white jacket and the lady a shawl. Hati was with his blazer and to cover his head he had no cap or muffler, he made a cap from his towel as he did in childhood and wore it with funny look that the couple noticed and without hiding the fun they smiled at Hati, the woman with a little more openness than her man. Her man!

They were on his right side and the left side was constantly changing, some people sat down and then moved as their train arrived, which is a normally expected scene in a station, but soon a rush was noticed may be arrival time of one or several important train was approaching. So there was congestion.

 Hati looked at the time table it once again notified another installment of delay by two hours. So he felt relaxed to get rid of the responsibility of gazing at the board for at least one hour and started a new chapter in the novel. To avoid the congestion the girlish lady had now curved herself as per the curve of the pillar putting her head on the lap of the boyish man who supported her with cares to avoid a possible fall and covered her with the shawl. Hati thought she did the right thing to acquire some space in the crowd, who could challenge a lady in sleep to beg a seat to sit. His left side was gradually pushing him towards the side of the couple and the young man took note of it and did the necessary protection by moving his left thigh more towards Hati so that any contact is with him not her. Hati went on reading.

Soon the platform was full of life, a train may be an important one arrived, many got down and so many rushed into, at that dead hours also, some vendors became active, porters bargained, the taxi drivers reached the platform to attract customers, some guardians were seeing their children off, older parents were leaving and repeating the instructions to their son to take care in their absence. Fifteen minutes after the train passed the station became calm and relatively thin in population.

Now it carried the passengers of defaulter trains like Hati, some permanent nocturnal dwellers regular in the station, some mysterious elements like the two on Hati`s right side. Soon Hati wanted to finish few more pages as the board declared another delay. Hati wanted to take some rest, his return ticket was sleeper class only and there was no vacancy in the rest room as he left his place and enquired. This time he put his cap or towel on his seat and moved, just smiling at the young man that he understood and nodded.  

He had to return back as there was rush and more importantly the display board was defective.

His absence allowed the young man to feel comfortable to adjust his tall body adjacent to his partner with both of them with all their four feet towards Hati`s space, towards their head the might be heavy suitcase they placed that worked as an anchor whose handle the man hold so that he did not fall down, he made him C shaped just outer to the she, the man generously pushed his leg on Hati`s thigh converting him to the leg end anchor. Hati had no other option other than reading the novel. To his left side a new big size human with a heavy jacket pushed in so that Hati`s big body became stable with opposite and almost equal push from both side @kanpur station.

He now wanted to read the book with war time urgency as he could feel a total load of his left side guest who was dozing and breathing strongly alcoholic, he pushed and made the guest erect not once but several times and by two AM the book was finished .

 By that time he was determined like a child not to move out of the place whatever problem may come. On his right side he was filling the dynamics of four legs two very soft and two very firm. They were readjusting their position every few seconds and all time by kicking Hati`s thigh generously. The big shawl has converted thy curved platform to their private bed room, as Hati was finding the CCTV camera which was just in a position to catch all motions of the couple.

Senapati! Hati called with his laughter, the most interesting part of the scene was an about sixty years old man left his original seat to come closer to observe their play and he was more unmindful than the couple as more people were looking at the bespectacled man who was lost in peeping, several time adjusting his glasses, and he was placed just at the eye of the camera. Hati could not control his laughter which made no difference to the lost three, as the alcoholic person opened up with laughter that expelled nauseating smell of liquor. It was a female not a male as the smell of alcohol suggested Hati for the last two hours.

“Sorry madam I pushed you several times thinking you were a sir.”

“Oh you people identify alcohol with masculinity, right, my ex-husband also assumed so, he told a little alcohol opens you up and forced me to drink. Do you know who I am? I am Susheela the daughter of the Mayor of Kanpur, we control the private transport of entire Kanpur and half of the district, He disowned me. Reason? I wanted to divorce my husband who is his friend’s son whom I had no interest to marry; I am a law student right now and travelling to Allahabad where my internship is continuing. I was supposed to go in proper time but you know I entered a pub. In the morning I shall catch the Janshatabdi and reach there in time, this is not my fault , the fault of my ex husband and my father who is the mayor of Kanpur she repeated. She further asked are you comfortable with this alcoholic thirty year old woman, I suppose you are a doctor?”

“How could you guess properly madam, yes I am a gynaecologist.”

“No big guess, when you took out your funny pain to scratch your nape of neck on the back side, I saw the joker looking pain that only is presented to the doctors by Pharma companies, I know , I know as my brother in law is a doctor. You cannot imagine how he plays like a puppet in the hands of the companies, do not mind doctor you may be a good one, I suppose you are a good one, my mind says you are good, you are too tired if you put your head on my lap and sleep like my baby I have no problem, you are the right person whom I can share my feelings as you are gynaecologist, see which woman does not want to be a mother, but to be a mother a husband should use the woman properly, do you understand doctor what I mean properly, you must have read FMT book of Modi I meant medical jurisprudence, my man wanted 377 and always only this and it was my night mare, he made me alcoholic to use my body as per his wish, I wanted a baby he was not interested, it was too painful and I fought back, I got the divorce easily and left everything there, my father did not believe his daughter he disowned me with a very high deposit in my account, actually my father is afraid of his father he is the party boss, doctor! you think I am lying , no see my papers, see this medical reports, see these photographs of unnatural offence by him how brutal he was, you tell doctor was I not right, did my father do justice to a daughter, did filling my account is enough, why I am talking it to a stranger like you, yes I have taken alcohol I am gossiping, I feel a man in you, may be the ghost of Froyed entered me, yes I want to be a mother I need a man who can do it not necessarily my husband, can you doctor, I have plenty of money.”

“Why are you not seeking the help of a psychiatrist, why can`t you give up alcohol, what is your right to tell your story to stranger males who can take advantage of your situation, you are pursuing a carrier with a prospect, you are young you can very well correct yourself, and come to normalcy, do not behave foolish, the world did not behave kindly with you now you have no world, you alone is your world, you be kind and human on you.”

“Sorry doctor I am a good lady when not in a high, I have developed a relationship at Allahabad with a young advocate too, I want to get rid of this condition, can you suggest how.”

So soon a person can be normal, with her loud cry, strong desire to be a mother, a fatherly advice from Dr Hati , waning stride of alcohol she was talking normal. Hati advised her to tell her new boy friend all the problem and rush to a psychiatrist, and wanted to talk to her father, which she gave.

With their conversation the young couple also awakened, actually they were awake all the time. The old man had rediscovered his real age, when Hati looked at the couple the man looked grave as if telling who are you bloody fool to look at us like this as it was their time only, the lady however fetched a forced smile to cover up her shame as actually she was doing to restructure her all robes.

Nobody had a fault as the day ended, the sky bore the first glimpse of dawn, the urban cock somewhere shouted as the black crow crowed, the tea vendor served tea to all the above characters, the first announcement of his special train flew from the loud speaker, Dr Hati finished his tea and left the place with a good bye to all including the old man whose CCTV footage if anybody viewed must be too amusing. Hati rushed to the correct platform where he wanted to do the morning requirements. Finally the train arrived twenty-one hour late, made Hati wise to know why special train tickets are so easily available.

Hati laughed and asked me, “Tell me Senapati! Whether I behaved like a male or a man.”

My answer was onenight@kanpur.rlystation cannot tell what the real Dr Hati is, you sir have to travel with several special trains, we both laughed as the emergency call for me arrived.              

ଯାଯାବର ଦୁନିଆ.... ଏହା ପାକିସ୍ତାନରେ ଘଟିଥିବା ଆତଂକବାଦୀ ଆକ୍ରମଣରେ ମୃତ ଶିଶୁମାନଂକ ସ୍ମୃତ୍ତିରେ ଶ୍ରଦ୍ଧା ନିବେଦିତ)

ଯାଯାବର ଦୁନିଆ, ତା.14.12.14. ରୁ 18.12.14.

ଜୀନୁ ଚୁପ ଚୁପ ବିଛଣା ଛାଡିଲା, ଉଦୁଉଦିଆ ଦ୍ୱିପ୍ରହର, ରଜପର୍ବ ଆଉ କେତେଦିନ ବାକି ଅଛି, ବାଡି ଆଡକୁ ଗଲା, କେତେ ଆମ୍ବ ପାଚିଛି, ଗୁଣ୍ଡୁଚି ମୂଷାଗୁଡା ପାଚିଲା ଆମ୍ବ ଖାଉଖାଉ ଗୋଟେ ଗୋଟେ ତଳେ ପଡିବ, ପବନ ବହି ଆମ୍ବ ଡାଳ ହଲିଲେ ଆମ୍ବ ପଡିବ,  ସେ ନଜଗିଲେ ହେବ କେମିତି। ଆଗବେଳ କଥା ଥିଲା ଅଲଗା, ଖରାବେଳେ ବିଛଣା ଛାଡି ପଛପଟ ବାଡି ଆଡେ ଗଲେ ବାପା ରାଗନ୍ତି, କୋଳରେ ପୁରାଇ ବାବନାଭୁତ ଗପ କହି ଡରାନ୍ତି, “ ଜମା ଯିବୁନାହିଁ, ଧୁଳି ବାଲି ଶୁଖିଲା ପତର ସବୁ ବାବନାଭୁତ ଉଡାଏ, ବେଳେ ବେଳେ ଦୁଷ୍ଟ ପିଲାଂକୁ ଉପରକୁ ଶୁଖିଲା ପତ୍ର ପରି ଉଡାଇ ନେଇ ଦୁଲକିନା କଚାଡି ଦିଏ, ଜମା ଯିବୁନି”। ଜୀନୁ ସୁନାପିଲା ଭଳି ହଁ ମାରେ କିନ୍ତୁ ବାପା ଘୁଂଗୁଡି ମାରିଲେ ସେ ଅତି ସୁନାପିଲା ପରି ଚୁପ ଚୁପ ଖସି ଯାଏ ପ୍ରାୟ ସବୁ ଦିନ। ସେ ବାବନାଭୁତକୁ ଡରେ କିନ୍ତୁ ସେ ଜାଣିଛି ତା ବାପା ଘରେ ଥିଲେ ବବନା ହେଉକି ଖାବନା ହେଉ ସବୁ ଭୁତ ତା ବାପାଂକୁ ଡରିବେ। ବାପାଂକ ପାଇଁ ମନଟା ଡହଳ ବିକଳ ହେଲା। ଇଛା ହେଲା ଉଚ୍ଚ ସ୍ୱରରେ ଡାକିବ ବାପା ବାପା । ବାପା କହୁଥିଲେ ଛୋଟ ପିଲା ଅଳି କଲେ ଭଗବାନ ଶୁଣଂତି। ଭଗବାନ ବାପାଂକୁ ନେଇଗଲେ ଆଉ ଫେରାଇଲେ ନାହିଁ। ଏଇଟା କଣ ଭଲ ହେଲା ଭଗବାନ!

ଖରା ଓ ଏତେ ଖରା! ମାଟି ତାତିଛି ଖାଲିପାଦରେ ଚାଲିହେଉ ନାହିଁ। ଜୀନୁର ଛିଣ୍ଡା ଚପଲ ହଜି ଯାଇଛି। କିଏ ଆଣିଦେବ ,ସେ ବୁଝି ସାରିଛି ମା ପାଖରେ ଅଳିକଲେ ମା ଖାଲି କାଂଦିବ। ଆରେ ଏ କଣ, ସେ କେତେବେଳୁ କାଂଦିଲାଣି ତା’ବି ସେ ନିଜେ ବୁଝି ନାହିଁ। ସେ ଏହା ଭିତରେ ବୁଝିଗଲାଣି ଛୋଟ ପିଲାବି ବିନା ରାହାରେ କାଂଦି ପାରଂତି , ଏଇ ସେ ଯେମିତି କାଂଦୁଛି, ବାପା ବାପା ବିକଳ ହେଉଛି। କାହାକୁ ବା ଦୋଶ ଦେବ ତାରି ପାଇଁ ଗତବର୍ଷ ରଜ ଡ୍ରେସ ଫେରା ବଦଳା କରିବାକୁ ଗଲେ, ଭାଇ ଯିଦି କରି ସାଥିରେ ଗଲା, ଜୀନୁ ଏବେ ଜୋରରେ କାଂଦିଲା। ଟ୍ରକ ଗାଡି ଗୁଡା କି’କାରଣେ ରାସ୍ତାରେ ଚାଲୁଛନ୍ତି କେଜାଣି, ମଦୁଆ ମାନେ କାହିଁକି ଟ୍ରକ ଚଲାନ୍ତି ? ବାପା ଆଣିଥିଲେ ଫ୍ରକ , ତା’ର ଏକା ଜିଦ ସେ ଭାଇ ଭଳି ଜୀନ୍ ପ୍ୟାଣ୍ଟ ପିଂଧିବ, ଅଝଟ ଅସମ୍ଭାଳ ହେଲା, ବାପା ଭାଇ ଗଲେ ବଜାରକୁ,ମଦୁଆ ଡ୍ରାଇଭର ଟ୍ରକ ଧକ୍କାଦେଲା, ଦୁହେଁ ଆଉ ବଂଚିନଥିଲେ ଘରକୁ ବୁହା ହୋଇ ଆସିଲା ବେଳକୁ।

 ଜୀନୁ ସେଦିନୁ ଜିଦି କରିବା ଛ।ଡି ଦେଇଛି।

ତା ଆଗଦିନର କଥା କି ସୁଂଦର ଫ୍ରକଟିଏ ବାପା ଆଣିଥିଲେ, କି’ଶ ଦରକାର ଥିଲା ଅଝଟ କରିବାରେ, ଜୀନୁ କାଂଦିଲା, କାନ୍ଦି କାନ୍ଦି ଘର ଫଟାଇଲା, ଏକ ଜିଦ ସେ ଭାଇ ଭଳି ଜୀନ ପ୍ୟାଣ୍ଟ ପିଂଧିବ। ଅତି ହେଲାରୁ ବାପା ଚଟକାଣିଏ ଦେଲେ। ବିଛଣାରେ ମୁହଁ ମାଡି ଶୋଇ ଠାକୁରଂକୁ ଡାକିଲା ମନେ ମନେ, “ ହେ ପ୍ରଭୁ ମୋତେ ମାଡ ଦେଇଥିବା ବାପା ମରୁ ଜୀବନରୁ ମରୁ”। ଆଜି ଆଉ କାଂଦି ଲାଭ କଣ। କିନ୍ତୁ ପରଦିନ ବାପା ଗେଲ୍ହା କରି ବୁଝାଇ କହିଲେ ଠିକ ଅଛି ତୋ ପ୍ୟାଣ୍ଟ ଆସିବ । ଜୀନୁ ଅବଶ୍ୟ ତା ପୁର୍ବରୁ ଠାକୁରଂକୁ ଜଣାଇ ସାରିଥିଲା,   ”ପ୍ରଭୁ ମୋ ବାପା ଭାରି ଭଲ ମୁ ରାଗରେ କାଲି କହିଥିବା 'ବାପା ମରୁ' କଥାଟା ଫେରାଇ ନେଉଛି”। ତା ଛଡା ଏମିତିତ ସେ ଆଗରୁ ବହୁଥର ବାପାଂକୁ ଗାଳିଦେଇଛି, କେବେ ତ ଏପରି ହୋଇ ନଥିଲା।

ଜୀନୁ

ଗୋଡ ତାତି ଯାଉଛି, ଓଃ ତାତି, ନ ଗଲେ ନଚଳେ। ଡେରିକଲେ ଆମ୍ବତକ କିଏ ନେଇ ପଳାଇବ, ସେ ଦିନ ତ ଆଉ ନାହିଁ ଯେ ବାପା ଲୋକଂକୁ ଆମ୍ବ ବାଣ୍ଟିବେ। ତା ଟିକି ବୟସରୁ ସେ ଜାଣି ଗଲାଣି କେବଳ ଆମ୍ବ ନୁହେଁ ବାଡି ଘରୁ ମିଳୁଥିବା ପ୍ରତିଟି ଜିନିଷ ତାଂକ ପାଇଁ ହୋଇଛି ବହୁତ ଜରୁରୀ। ଏତେ ଖରା ସେ କେବେ ଦେଖି ନଥିଲା, ଝାଂଜି ପବନ ଦେହରେ ଫୋଡି ହୋଇ ଯାଉଛି, ଦେହ ସାରା ଘିମିରି ସାଲୁବାଲୁ,ପାଉଡର କେବେଠୁ ସରି ଗଲାଣି।

      (କି ଗପ ଲେଖିବି, କହାପାଇଁ ଲେଖିବି, ପାକିସ୍ତାନର ପେଶ୍ୱାରରେ ଆତଂକବାଦି ଆକ୍ରମଣରେ ଅନେକ ସ୍କୁଲ ପିଲା ମୃତ, ଭଗବାନ ସେମାନଂକ ପିତାମାତାଂକୁ ସାହାସ ଓ ଶକ୍ତି ଦିଅଂତୁ )

କିଂତୁ ସେ’ତ ପ୍ରଭୁଂକ ପାଖରେ ଶପଥ କରିଛି ଆଉ କୌଣସି ଚିଜ ପାଇଁ କେବେବି ଅଳି କରିବ ନାହିଁ। ସେ ଟିକେ ଆକାଶକୁ ଚାହିଁଲା, ସବୁ ତାତିକୁ ସୂର୍ଯ୍ୟ ଯେପରି ଏକ ପିଚକାରୀରେ ତା’ରି ଉପରକୁ ସ୍ପ୍ରେ କରୁଛନ୍ତି, ଏ ଦେବତା ଫେବତା ଗୁଡା ଯମା ଭଲ ନୁହଂତି , ନହେଲେ ତା ବାପାଂକୁ କାହିଁକି , ଭାଇକୁ କାହିଁକି ବଂଚାଇଲେ ନାହିଁ। ଈଛା ହେଉଥିଲା ହନୁମାନ ହୁଅନ୍ତାକି ସୂର୍ଯ୍ୟଟାକୁ ଗୋଟା ଗିଳି ପକାନ୍ତା, ତା’ର ଜାଣିବା ଉଚିତ, ସେ ଛୋଟ ପିଲା, ତା' ଦେହରେ ଏତେ ଘା ଏତେ ଘିମିରି, ତା'କୁ ଟିକେ ଦୟା କଲେ କଣ ଭଲ ହୁଅନ୍ତା ନାହିଁ।

ସେ ବୁଝି ପାରିଲା ନାହିଁ ଦୌଡି ଦୌଡି ଗଲେ ପାଦରେ କମ ଫୋଟକା ହେବ ନା ପାଦ ଥାପି ଥାପି ଗଲେ କମ ଫୋଟକା ହେବ।  ପୁଳାଏ କଦଳୀ ପତର ଛିଡାଇଲା ଗୋଟିଏ ପକାଇ ତା’ଉପରେ ପାଦ ରଖି ଆଗକୁ ଗଲା, ପୁଣି ପଛଟିକୁ ଆଗକୁ ଆଣି, ଏକ ଖେଳ ପ୍ରାୟ ଏକ ଦୁଇ ତିନ , ଏକ ଦୁଇ ତିନ କରି ଆଗକୁ ଆଗକୁ ଚାଲିଲା। ଆବଶ୍ୟକତା ମଣିଷ ମୁଣ୍ଡରେ ନୂଆ ବୁଦ୍ଧି ପୁରାଏ। ଛୋଟ ପିଲାଂକ କେତେ..., ନା..., ଏତେ... ଖେଳ।

ସବୁଠୁ ମିଠା ଗଛ ପାଖକୁ ଆଗେ ଯିବା ତାହାର ସବୁ ଦିନିଆ ଅଭ୍ୟାସ, ଆଉ ଦିଓଟି କଥା ପଛ। ଇସ ଆଜି କଅଣ ଏତେ ଆମ୍ବ ବିଛାଇ ହୋଇ ପଡିଛି। ପବନ କେତେବେଳେ ହେଲାକି, ନିଜକୁ ପ୍ରଶ୍ନ କଲା। ନାଇଁ’ତ । ଛାଡ ଯେମିତି ପଡୁ କଣ ଯାଏ ଆସେ, ଆମ୍ବତକ ଗୋଟାଇ ଘରକୁ ନେଲେ ଯାଏ।

ସେ ଗୋଟି ଗୋଟି କରି କନା ମୂଣାରେ ଭର୍ତ୍ତି କଲା। ହଟାତ ଗଛ ଉପରୁ କିଏ ଜଣେ କହିଲା , ଏ ପିଲା! ସେଗୁଡା ମୋର ତୁ କାହିଁକି ମୁଣିରେ ପୂରାଉଛୁ।

ଜୀନୁ ଚମକି ପଡିଲା, ହାଉଳି ଖାଇଥାନ୍ତା, ବାପାଂକ କଥା ମନେ ପଡିଗଲା, ଯେଉଁ ପିଲା ବାବନା ଭୁତକୁ ଜମା ନଡରେ ଭୁତ ତାର କିଛି କରି ପାରେ ନାହିଁ।

ଉପରକୁ ସନ୍ତର୍ପଣରେ ଚାହିଁଲା, ଗଛର କେତେ ଅଗରେ ଆଂଗୁଳି ସରୁ ଡାଳରେ ଫୁଂଗୁଳା ଦେହରେ କିଏ ଗୋଟାଏ ବେପରୁଆ ହୋଇ ବସି ଆମ୍ବଟିଏ ହାତରେ ଧରି ଖାଉଛି। ଜୀନୁ ଗଛ ଚଢେ, କିନ୍ତୁ ଏତେ ଉଚ୍ଚକୁ! ନା ତାଂକ ଗାଁ’ଟା ସାରାରେ କେହି ଜଣେବି ଏମିତି ସରୁ ଡାଳକୁ ଯାଇପାରିବେ ନାହିଁ। ଏଇଟା ନିଶ୍ଚେ ବାବନା, ତାଛଡା ତାଂକ ଗାଆଁ ଛୁଆ ଇଏତ ନୁହେଁ।

ଆଉଟିକେ ନିରିଖେଇକି ଅନାଇଲା, ଭୟ କାମିଗଲା, ସେଦିନ ଯେଉଁ ବାଉଁଶ ରାଣୀ ଖେଳ ହାଟ ପଡିଆରେ ଦେଖିଥିଲା ସେହି ଖେଳରେ ଏଇ ପିଲାଟା ଗୋଟେ ଦୋଉଡି ଉପରେ ଚାଲୁଥିଲା କେତେ ଚିକିମିକିଆ ଫ୍ରକଟିଏ ପିନ୍ଧି। ଆଜି ଫୁଂଗୁଳା ଦେହରେ ଚିହ୍ନି ହେଲାନାହିଁ । 

ଏଗୁଡାଂକର ସାହାସ ଭୁତଠୁ’ବି ଅଧିକ।

ତୁ କାହିଁକି ଆମ ଆମ୍ବ ଗଛରେ ଚଢିଛୁ?

ଗଛଟା କେମିତି କାହାର ହେବମ, ଆମେତ କେତେ ମୂଲକ ବୁଲୁଛୁ କେତେ ଗଛମୂଳେ ମାସ ମାସ ଧରି ଡେରା କରିଛୁ, କେଉଁଠି ହେଲେ କୌଣସି  ଗଛତ ଆମର ନୁହନ୍ତି ବୋଲି ଅଭିଯୋଗ କରିନାହାନ୍ତି, କିମ୍ବା କୌଣସି ମଣିଷବି ଆସି ଦାବି କରିନାହାନ୍ତି, ଉଠ, ହଟୋ, ଭାଗୋ! ବଡ ବିଚଳିତ ଏବଂ ଚମତ୍କୃତ ହେଲାଭଳି କହିଲା ପିଲାଟି। କହିଲାବେଳେ ସେ ଏପରୀ ବେପରୁଆ ହୋଇ ଦୁଇ ହାତ ଛାଡି ଦେଲାଯେ ଜୀନୁ ଡରିଗଲା, ଆଉ କହିଲା ପଡିପୁଡା ଯିବୁ ମତେ ଡର ଲାଗୁଛି।

ପିଲାଟା ହୋ ହୋ ହସିଲା, ସେ ପୁଣି ପଡିବ ଯିଏ ସରୁ ତାର ଆଉ ଦଉଡି ଉପରେ ଚାଲୁଛି, ଅଧିକ ବେପରୁଆ ଭାବେ କହିଲା।

ଜୀନୁ ଏଥର ଚିତ୍କାର କଲା, ତଳକୁ ଓହ୍ଲା କହୁଛି, ଆମ୍ବ ଫାମ୍ବ ଯାହା ନେବୁ ନେ ତଳକୁ ଆ, ଡର ଲାଗୁଛି, ପିଲାଟିର ଜୀନୁ ଉପରେ ଦୟାହେଲା କିମ୍ବା ସେବି ଭାବୁଥିଲା କାଳେ ଆମ୍ବତକ ହରାଇବ ଏଣୁ କ୍ଷୀପ୍ରଗତିରେ ଓଲ୍ହାଇ ଆସିଲା, ଏତେ ଜୋରରେଯେ ଜୀନୁର ଆଖି ଖୋସି ହୋଇଗଲା।

ତୁ ଆଗେ ପ୍ରଥମେ କହ ଗଛଟା କେମିତି ତମର ହୋଇପାରିବ, ତୁମେ କ’ଣ ଏହାକୁ କୁଆଡେ ସାଥିରେ ନେଇ ପାରିବ? ଆମେ ଗୋଟେ ଦୁନିଆରୁ ଖେଳସାରି ଆଉ ଦୁନିଆକୁ ଗଲେ ଆମ ମାଷ୍ଟର ସାଂଗରେ ସବୁ କଳାକାର, ମାନେ ମଣିଷ, ଛୁଆ ଓ ବଡ, ଆମ କୁକୁର, ମାଂକଡ, ବିଲାତି ମୂଷା, ଛେଳି, ଜିନିଷ ପତ୍ର ଆମ ଭ୍ୟାନ ଗାଡି ଓ ଡାଲା ଗାଡିରେ ବୋହିନିଏ ଏଗୁଡା ସବୁ ତା’ର ବା ଆମର। ଆଉ ଗୋଟିଏ ଦୁନିଆରେ ଖେଳ ସାରିଲେ ପୁଣି ସେଇଆ କରେ, କାହିଁ କେବେ ଗଛ’ତ ବୋହି ନିଏ ନାହିଁ। ତୁମେ କଣ ଗଛକୁ ନୂଆ ଦୁନିଆକୁ ବୋହି ନିଅ!

ଜୀନୁକୁ ପ୍ରଥମେ ହସ ତାପରେ କାନ୍ଦ ଲାଗିଲା କିନ୍ତୁ ସେ ପ୍ରସଂଗକୁ ନଯାଇ ପ୍ରଥମେ ପ୍ରଶ୍ନ କଲା ମୋ ନାମ ଯେମିତି ଜୀନୁ ତୋ ନାମ କଣ?

ମୋଗୁଲି, ମତେ ମାଷ୍ଟର ଡାକେ ମୋଗୁଲି।

ତୁ କ’ଣ ଜଂଗଲ ଜଂଗଲ ପତା ଚଲାହେ ବାଲା ମୋଗୁଲି, ଓ ସେଇଥି ପାଇଁ ଏତେ ଉପରକୁ ଚଢିବାକୁ ଡର ଲାଗୁ ନାହିଁ। ଜୀନୁ ଜୋରରେ ହସିଲା ଆଉ କହିଲା ତୁ ଦୁନିଆ ଛାଡିବା ମାନେ ବୁଝୁଛୁ ଯାଯାବର ପରି ଗୋଟିଏ ଜାଗାରୁ ଆଉ ଗୋଟିଏ ଜାଗାକୁ ଯିବା, ଆମେ ସେମିତି କରୁନା। ଗୋଟିଏ ଜାଗାରେ ରହୁ, ଏଇଟା ଆମ ଘର , ଏଇ ଆମ୍ବଗଛ ଗୁଡା ଆମ ବାଡିରେ ଥିବାରୁ ଏହା ଆମ୍ଭର, ତେଣୁ ଏ ଗଛରୁ ତୁ ଆମ୍ବ ଖାଇଛୁ ମାନେ ଚୋରି କରିଛୁ।

 ଚୋରି କରିବା ମହାପାପ ଗୋଡାଇ ଖାଇବ ତମ୍ପ ସାପ।

ମୋଗୁଲି ବଡ ଆଶ୍ଚର୍ଯ୍ୟ ହେଲା, ଜୀନୁ କଣ ସବୁ ଅଜବ କଥା କହୁଛି, ଗୋଟିଏ ଜାଗାରେ କଣ ଭଲ ଲାଗୁଛି,ଲୋକେ ତୁମ୍ଭ ଖେଳ ଦେଖି ବୋର ହେଉ ନାହାନ୍ତି! ଘର ବାଡି ଏ ସବୁ କଣ କହୁଛୁ ଜୀନୁ ମୋ ମୁଣ୍ଡରେ ପଶୁନାହିଁ। ଗୋଟେ ଦୁନିଆରେ ବେଶି ଦିନ ରହିବା ଭଲ ନୁହେଁ। ରୋଜଗାର ହେବନାହିଁ ,ଖାଇବାକୁ ମିଳିବ ନାହିଁ।

ଦୁନିଆ ଛ।ଡିବା କାହାକୁ କହନ୍ତି ତାହା ତୁ ଜାଣିନୁ ମୋଗୁଲି, ଏ ମୁଲକରୁ ସେ ମୁଲକ ଯିବା ଦୁନିଆ ଛାଡିବା ନୁହେଁ, ମୃତ୍ୟୂରେ ଜଣେ ଦୁନିଆ ଛାଡେ। ମୋ ବାପା ମଲାବେଳେ ଲୋକେ ଏ କଥା କହୁଥିଲେ, ସେ ଯେଉଁ ଦୁନିଆକୁ ଯାଇଛନ୍ତି ସେଠାକୁ କିଛି ନେଇଯାଇ ପାରିବା ସମ୍ଭବ ନୁହେଁ।

 କେବଳ ତୁମ ଧର୍ମ ତୁମ ସାଂଗରେ ଯିବ, ଅବଶ୍ୟ ଧର୍ମ ମାନେ ଭଲ କାମ କରିବା, ତାହା କେମିତି ମୋ ବାପାଂକ ସାଂଗରେ ଗଲା ସେକଥା ଛୋଟ ପିଲା ବୁଝି ପାରିବେ ନାହିଁ, ଏକଥାବି ସେମାନେ ମୁଁ ପଚାରିଲେ କହୁଥିଲେ।

ତୋ ବାପା କଣ କରନ୍ତି ମୋଗୁଲି?

ମାଷ୍ଟର କହେ ମୋ ବାପା ମା କିଏ ତାହା ସିଏ ଜାଣି ନାହିଁ। ସେମାନେ କେଉଁ ଏକ ଦୁନିଆ ଅହମଦାବାଦରେ ଡେରା ପକାଇଥିଲେ ତହିଁ ଲାଗିଲା କଣ ବଡ ମାଡଫୌଦାରି, ଦଂଗା ଗୋଳ, ଗାଡି ମଟର ବଂଦ ରହିଲା, ସେମାନେ ବିନା ରୋଜଗାରରେ ପଡି ରହିଲେ। ଦିନକର ଘଟଣା ଜଣେ ଲୋକ ଧଇଁସଇଁ ହୋଇ ତାକୁ ଆଣି ମାଷ୍ଟରକୁ ଦେଲା ଏବଂ କହିଗଲା ମୁଁ କୁଆଡେ ତା  ବହୁ ଧନୀ ମାଲିକଂକ ଅଲିଅଳି ଝିଅ, ମୋ ଜୀବନ ବଂଚାଇବା ଦାଇତ୍ୱ ତା’ର। ସମୟ ନଥିଲା ଅଧିକ କଥା ହେବାକୁ। ତେବେ ଏହାକୁ ପାଠ ପଢାଇ ମଣିଷ କରିବ ଏକଥା ବି ଦାୟୀତ୍ୱ ଦେଇଥିଲା।

ମାଷ୍ଟର କହେ ତାଂକ ଭଳି ବାଉଁଶ ରାଣୀ ଖେଳ ଦେଖାଉ ଥିବା ଲୋକଂକ ପାଖକୁ କେହି ଦଂଗାକାରୀ ଆସିବେ ନାହିଁ ଏଣୁ ଯିଏ ତାକୁ ସେଠାରେ ଛଡିଲା ସେ ବୁଦ୍ଧିଆ, କିନ୍ତୁ ପାଠ କେମିତି ସେ ପଢି ପାରିବ ମାଷ୍ଟରତ ମୂର୍ଖ।

 ଆଛା ଜୀନୁ କହି ପାରିବୁକି ଦଂଗାକାରୀ ମାନେ କ’ଣ।

ଜୀନୁ ସେକଥା ଜାଣି ନଥିଲା ଅନୁମାନ କରି କହିଲା ଅସୁର ହୋଇଥିବେ! ସେ ଯେଉଁ ଗପ ସବୁ ଶୁଣିଥିଲା ତା ମଧ୍ୟରୁ ଅସୁର ମାନେ ଯାଇଥିଲେ ଶିଶୁ କୃଷ୍ନଂକୁ ମାରିବା ପାଇଁ।

ତୁ କଣ ସତରେ ପାଠ ପଢିବାକୁ ଚାହୁଁ? ତାହେଲେ ସଂଧ୍ୟାବେଳେ ଆମ ଘରକୁ ଆସୁନୁ, ମୋ ମା’ତ ଏବେ କେତେ ଛୁଆଂକୁ ଟିଉସନ କରୁଛି ଆମ ଘରେ। ମୋ ବାପା ମଲାପରେ ଆମେ ଭାରି ଗରୀବ ହୋଇଯାଇଛୁ, ସେଇଥିପାଇଁ ମା ଟିଉସନ କରୁଛି। ତୁ ଆସିବୁକି ମୋ ସାଂଗରେ ପଢିବୁ, ମୁଁ ମାକୁ କହିବି ମୋଗୁଲି ବି ମୋ ଭଳି ହୀନିମାନୀ ଛୁଆଟିଏ ତା’ଠୁ ପଇସା ନେବୁନାହିଁ।

ମୋ ଭାଇବି ମରିଗଲା ମୁ ଖେଳିବାକୁ ସାଂଗ ପାଉନାହିଁ।

ତୁ ମତେ ଦଉଡି ଉପରେ ଚାଲିବା ଶିଖାଇ ଦେବୁ।

ମୋଗୁଲି କହିଲା ମାଷ୍ଟରକୁ ପଚାରି ଏକଥା କହି ପାରିବ।

ଆମ୍ବ କଥା ଦୁହେଁ ଭୁଲି ଯାଇଥିଲେ।

ମୋଗୁଲିର ମାଷ୍ଟର ଓ ଜୀନୁର ମା ବୋଧେ କେତେବେଳୁ ଏକଥା ସେମାନଂକର ଅଲକ୍ଷ୍ୟରେ ଶୁଣୁଥିଲେ, ଉଭୟ ଠୋ ଠୋ ହସିବାରୁ କଥା ବଂଦ କରି ଦୁହେଁ ଦୁହିଁକର ଗାର୍ଜନ ମାନଂକ ପାଖକୁ ଆଉଜି ଆସିଲେ।

ମାତାଜୀ ! ଏ ମୋଗୁଲି କିଛି ଭୁଲ କଥା କହିନାହିଁ, ଟଂକାରବି ଅଭାବ ନାହିଁ। ଏ ଛୁଆ ସାଂଗରେ ସେ ଯେଉଁ ମୂଣାଟିଏ ପଠାଇଥିଲେ ତହିଁରେ ଶହେ ସତର ଭରିକିଆ ପୂରୁଣା କାଳିଆ ସୂନା ମୋହର ଥିଲା। ଲୋକଟା ପଛରେ ଦଳେ ଶସ୍ତ୍ରଧାରୀ ଦଂଗାକାରୀ ଆସି ପଚରା ଉଚ୍ଚରା କଲେ। ଯେତେଦୂର ସମ୍ଭବ ମୋଗୁଲି ମୁସଲମାନ ଘରର ଛୁଆ ଯାହାକୁ ହିଂଦୁ ଚାକରଟି ଜୀବନକୁ ବାଜୀ ଲଗାଇ ଉଦ୍ଧାର କରି ବଂଚିବର ବ୍ୟବସ୍ଥା କଲା। 

ଝିଅ ଛୁଆଟିକୁ କେଉଁଠି ଛାଡିବି, ପୁଣି ଏତେଗୁଡା ସୂନାମୋହର ଲାଳସାରେ ଯେ କେହିବି ତା’ର ହତ୍ୟା କରିପାରେ। ଏସବୁ ଭାବି ଭାବି ଆଜି ପର୍ଯ୍ୟନ୍ତ କିଛି ନିଷ୍ପତ୍ତି ନେଇ ପାରୁ ନଥିଲି, ଭାବୁଛି ମୁଁ ସହି ଦୁନିଆରେ ପହଂଚିଛି।

 ଏହି ‘ଦୁନିଆ’ ଶବ୍ଦକୁ ନେଇ ଏଥର ଜୀନୁ ଆଉ ଜୀନୁ ମାଆ ଜୋରରେ ହସୁଥିଲେ।

 ଏ ପିଲାର ବହୁତ ବୁଦ୍ଧି ଏ ପଢିବା ଦରକାର୍, ଏହାଥିଲା ଜୀନୁ ମାଆଂକର ମନ୍ତବ୍ୟ।

ଏବେ ଉଭୟ ସପ୍ତମ ଶ୍ରେଣୀର ମେଧାବିନୀ ଛାତ୍ରୀ।

ମାଷ୍ଟର ଆସି ଦେଖି ଯାଏ, ଭାରି ଖୁସି ହୁଏ, ତା’କୁ ଲାଗେ ଭଗବାନ ଏହି ନିର୍ଦ୍ଦିଷ୍ଟ ଉଦ୍ଦେଶ୍ୟରେ ତାକୁ ଏମିତି ଯାଯାବର କରିଥିଲେ ଏବଂ ତା ଜୀବନ ଧନ୍ୟ ହୋଇଛି।

ଜୀନୁମା ଏପର୍ଯ୍ୟନ୍ତ ସେ ସୂନା ମୋହର ଗୋଟିଏ ମଧ୍ୟ ଖର୍ଚ୍ଚ କରିନାହାନ୍ତି, ସବୁବେଳେ କୁହଂତି ମୋଗୁଲିକୁ ଡାକ୍ତର କରିବେ ଏବଂ ସେହି ଧନରେ ହସ୍ପିଟାଲଟିଏ କରିବେ। ଆଉ ଜୀନୁ ସେ ଚାହେଁ ଅଧ୍ୟାପିକା ହେବାପାଇଁ।

(ଗଳ୍ପଟି ପାକିସ୍ତାନରେ ଘଟିଥିବା ଆତଂକବାଦୀ ଆକ୍ରମଣରେ ମୃତ ଶିଶୁମାନଂକ ସ୍ମୃତ୍ତିରେ ଶ୍ରଦ୍ଧା ନିବେଦିତ)