English Literature – Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-6 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-6 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

The Wind Chimes Ring.

Quite confused, the retired headmaster Sasidharan Narayanan looked at his old student, Kumaran’s face. At last he could just say, ‘What do you mean? Want my granddaughter? What for?’

‘Yes sir, please send her to me. She is an uncut diamond, I can see that. She will definitely marvel if I can polish her properly. I can’t say whether you’ve heard of Ian Thorpe or not. He was the most successful swimmer from Australia. Won three golds in the competition held in Japan. Can you imagine how could they achieve these astonishing feats? They have brilliant coaches to guide them. They take regular training under their eyes. Except the American swimmer Tim Shaw no one could achieve this. In 1975, he too, had won three gold medals.’

‘Well, well, run a bit slow my dear boy. Do you want to teach me the whole history of swimming? Ha, ha!’ laughed Narayanan.

Kumaran too smiled and said, ‘Sir, swimming is not only my profession but it’s in my dreams as well. By swimming I earn my rice and idli. But the letters S, W, I and M are always swimming in my blood. It’s be all and end all of my existence. It’ll be a matter of great pleasure for me if only I can train a single boy or girl of Haripadam in this sport. And if Gayatri can achieve some milestones of success in this field it’ll be a matter of great joy for me.’

‘And what about her studies?’

‘The least I can assure you sir, her studies won’t be disturbed at all.’

Neither of the two spoke a single word for some time. Then Kumaran, lost in his thoughts, said again, ‘And excuse my saying sir. No one asks whether pundit Bhimsen Joshi, the stalwart of Indian classical music, had crossed the class tenth barrier or not. No one can dare to ask what degree he had. His story is an ideal one. He fought against his poverty relentlessly. He flew his home. Sir, what is the real identity of a man? Is it not his deeds? And in Mahabharat what Karna had said? A man should be known by his deeds only and not by his birth.’

Gayatri was getting very much bored. ‘What the hell he is talking about? Oh, appupan, let’s go home.’

Narayanan was on the horns of a dilemma. In real life, it’s not easy to decide everything immediately. How could he answer Kumaran without hurting his sentiments? Ultimately he said, ‘Well, I must ask his father as well.’

‘That you’ve to, sir. But Mani is, after all, your own son.’

The duo returned home. Throughout the way Gayatri was quite restless, ‘Oh, when would we go to see those fireworks?’ Back home she didn’t open to see what prize she had got. She had altogether forgotten it.      

It was already dusk. They took their evening coffee and went out. Little Rajan would walk a bit and then start wailing, ‘Appu, in your lap, lap!’

Gayatri was walking with her appupan. Her pigtails dancing on her shoulders as she was jumping on the road. Amma, Ammuma and Gayatri – all wore white jasmine flowers in their hairs.

Gayatri was all smiles as she was reminiscing what happened last year in summer vacation when they all went to witness the ‘Vipulpuram’ festival of Vadakkunathan temple of Shiva at city of Thrissur. Whole of the temple premises were decorated with flowers. Great artists of Kerala would play there with five instruments. And there was a procession of elegantly caparisoned elephants. The drum players were walking with them, playing the chenda, a traditional percussion instrument. The face, the trunk and the sides of the elephants were covered with golden laced chadors. The skin of the pachyderms was full of colourful floral designs. Most famous among them was the elephant Parmeshwaram. Mani once told her, ‘They have shown the story of our Parmeshwaram in National Geography.’

Then the fireworks show continued till night. Every year on 8^th of May it’s celebrated at Thrissur. The architectural design of the temple of Vadakkunathan is somewhat like that of a pagoda. The stories of the epic Mahabharata are depicted on the inner walls of the temple. Peoples come from far and near to see these.

Crowds of people poured into the field around the temple to see the fireworks. In the evening one after another firecrackers were let off. They exploded and a rainbow of bright coloured lights was visible in the sky, against the backdrop of the starlit night. With each loud noise of the firework the crowd burst into a roar of laughter. The light and sound! And the colours! Gayatri was practically hypnotized. She didn’t feel like going back home.

But her brother Rajan was already asleep on his father’s shoulder.  Mani grew restless, ‘Oh, it’s quite a night. We’re already late. Let’s go home. Tomorrow I’ve to attend my office as well.’

So they returned. And Gayatri too.

Before they had their dinner that night Narayanan repeated the proposal of Kumaran to them.

But Manishankaran couldn’t accept it so easily, ‘What you’re saying, achcha? What will happen to her studies? And doesn’t she need to learn the cooking and other domestic works? What will she do in her future?’

Next it was the turn of Lalithambika, the achchamma of Gayatri, to handle the argument, ‘And what’s your plan? Don’t you want to give her in wedding? My god, at her age I was -’

‘Oh Mani’s mamma, everywhere in life you cannot always expect to get ‘two twos are four’. The former math teacher continued, ‘One should dream of five. And if he gets just a three, he must not be demoralised. To dream of five is the essence of life. On the contrary, not to lose hope when one gets the three is the nectar of life! To be very frank, I’ve already decided. When we’ve got a chance we must send her for a training in swimming.’

Achaamma too was not ready to give in so easily, ‘Well, tell me now, how every morning she will go to Alleppey?’

‘It’s thrice in a week and it’s I who’ll take her to Alleppey.’

‘You? Have you ever seen yourself in the mirror? Not a single wisp of hair is black anymore. And you’ll take our kuchumol to Alleppey?’ Lalithambika covered her mouth and giggled.

‘What do you mean – I’m an Oldman?’ full of energy Narayanan was about to beat his chest, ‘And have you heard of Meenakshi Gurrukkal? The leading exponent of Kearalian martial art Kalarippayattu. Even at the age of seventy-four she wouldn’t stop, so?’   

Mani tried to play tactfully, ‘Achcha, what’s the use of this swimming for her?’

‘Use? You mean profit?’ Narayanan took his glasses in hand and wiped them, ‘Our life is not a business. A game of profit making. P.T.Usha was born in Kuttali of Calicut. She was brought up in Payoli. And now the people know the name of Meladi because of her only.’

‘After all you can’t compare Gayatri with her.’

In the meantime, Ananthi had served the day’s special dinner for everybody on banana leaves. Appupan was really fond of all these traditional preparations. They were sitting on the floor. Narayanan picked up the broken thread of conversation, ‘When Lord Ramachandra was making a bridge to cross the sea to reach the kingdom of Lanka, even the little squirrels were of great assistance to him. They would bring the stone chips and twigs to fill up the gaps between the stones of the bridge under construction. Similarly, an unknown washerwoman from Panakurti village of Andhra had decided that she would not succumb to the pressure tactics of the landlord of the village. She refused to part with her small piece of land. She revolted and the fire of her spirit spread all over Telangana. Next the peasants of Telangana rose altogether. So who can say who’s important and who’s insignificant?’

‘Achcha, your arguments are inspiring, no doubt, but are they practical? Gayatri is the girl of our family. Won’t she learn how to run a household?’

‘One must have the courage to touch the sky. One must try to fly if he has a dream. Why to have poverty even in your dreams?’     

When the grownups of a family discuss something about a child they never bother about his or her feelings. While the father and son were engrossed in their discussions, they didn’t even notice that Gayatri had left her seat and be took herself to her bed. Silently. She was dog tired and her eyes could hardly afford to remain open. Within no time she was sound asleep.

Ananthi, Gayatri’s mother, was a bit sad. She murmured to herself, ‘Oh, your war of words! No one even bothered to congratulate my daughter for her achievement.’

But her grandfather didn’t forget it. Suddenly he asked, ‘Hey Ananthi, what was her prize?’

‘Don’t know, achcha.’

‘Didn’t see? Oh, bring that box. It’s over there on my table.’

Quickly he opened the box. Oh my god, there was a piece of wind chimes in it! Narayanan picked it up and hung it from his hand. It started chiming. The metallic tune drifted all over the house.

Narayanan, full of pride and joy, went near Gayatri’s bed and hung it near her head. Lovingly, his eyes were fixed at his kuchumol’s face.

Coming through the open window, rays of moon light fell upon the bed. Her face was illuminated. Was she dreaming? The wind chimes were ringing.

As if a melody wafted across the room,

‘Dream and dare to touch the blue sky

You too have wings, why don’t you fly?’

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020