They are fine in Udhampur, in separate family accommodation,’ Bipul said. He continued, ‘Deuta, I hope you will understand. I will try to come home on leave, as soon as it is sanctioned. Please tell Ma also. Take care. Ok Deuta, Bye.’

Prasanta Madhab was happy to hear his son’s voice. But was this life? He remembered how his elder son, Bipul, had entered the NDA after his school finals. He was the second topper in the country. After IMA, he got commissioned into the Indian Army, in which he had served for around twelve years now. At present, he was a Major in the Kumaon Regiment. He had also served in the Kargil War, and had been awarded the ‘Sena Medal’ for action in the war. Prasanta Madhab was not very enthusiastic in the beginning about Bipul joining the Army, but gradually, he grew accustomed to it, and now, he rather felt proud as a father, when he saw his son in uniform. Amala was Bipul’s wife. She was from Jorhat. She was a very loving and caring girl, and they were blessed with a daughter-Pari.

Their second son was Pranab. After his masters degree in English, he took to teaching in a college, and got married. Prasanta Madhab wanted him to do his LLB instead, but he was not at all willing to study law as per his father’s wish. He felt and said that justice and law practice did not go together. He argued that if everybody would have depended on justice, then there would have been no leaders and courts. This was his nature from his very childhood, as though he was the reformer of all social evils! He had a rebellious mind. Then, all of a sudden, he made up his mind, one day, and told his mother, ‘Ma, I have got a job of a DGM in an oil company in Baroda, Gujarat. I shall join the company after a month, and will take Arpita and Babloo along. Tell Deuta.’

Prasanta Madhab felt bad, but what could he do? He felt heavy within. He did not express it. Did Pranab ever bother about his Deuta’s approval or disapproval? And the day came after a month, when they left for Baroda. Both daughter-in-law, Arpita, and grandson, Babloo, came, touched his feet, wept, and left for their car. Pranab, too, touched his feet and said ‘Deuta, stay well. We will keep coming’. Prasanta slowly removed his spectacles and wiped his tears. Their third and the youngest child was a daughter, Mita or ‘Majani’, as they called her. She had married two years ago, and had settled in the USA. She was married to Dr Parikshit Barua. He had arranged a grand wedding and a reception party for their daughter. Mita had been calling them and wanted to send them air tickets, as soon as they could fix their programme to visit her. It was six months, since Mita had delivered a baby boy. At times, Prasanta Madhab missed his daughter deeply. He, however, did not express himself even to his wife. He had observed that these days, any conversation with Nirmala ended with only a verbal argument. He looked at Nirmala. She was asleep.

It was half past two, and a new day would dawn soon. He touched his wife. Would he ever get such peaceful sleep? Didn’t she ever fear the uncertainties of life? ‘If I die tomorrow, what will happen to you?’ Prasanta Madhab often asked her, and she would smile back and reply, ‘God is there. I have surrendered to Him completely. How can you be so sure that you will leave before me? It could also be the other way. Self confidence...? He wondered.

At this late hour, Prasanta Madhab wanted to rewind his last seventy-five years. He looked at Nirmala. Forty-eight years ago, she was Nirmala Raimedhi. She was very beautiful. She studied philosophy for her MA degree. Prasanta Madhab reflected as to where that slim, beautiful Nirmala had gone. After forty-eight years, she looked old, tired, and had gained weight. Probably, that was why she could enjoy such sound sleep, he justified. He missed those long years of youth with young Nirmala and three bubbly children.

While reminiscing about his life, everything came back to him as a flashback. Prasanta Madhab’s younger brother, Diganta, was in the Army as an emergency commissioned officer. In fact, for Bipul, his Major uncle was his idol. How Bipul used to come to him and say, ‘Deuta, I will be a Major’. At this past midnight hour, Prasanta Madhab felt he should have been expressive about his son’s achievements. He should have said, ‘I am proud of you, my son!’ He could have stopped Pranab from going so far away to Baroda, away from his old parents. He should have said, ‘You stay with me, son. If you do not want to practise law, it’s Ok. Do whatever you wish. I know you will excel in life, no matter whatever field you choose. You are so upright.’ Why did he not say so? Probably, Pranab would not have left then. Why did he take it as a prestige issue with his own younger son? Why couldn’t he tell his daughter-in-law, ‘Do not leave us alone at this age. We need your support,’ why couldn’t he tell his five-year-old grandson, ‘You can’t leave us, Babloo– I want to play with you’, ... why?

Only the other day, his daughter had again requested, ‘Deuta, please come here with Ma, you both will enjoy here.’ They could have planned to go, since Nirmala was eager. She wanted to see her six-month-old grandson. But he had not decided yet. Sometimes, he said, ‘How can I stay away from home for so long?’ This was just his ego, he knew it. It’s not that he had some unavoidable, urgent work in Guwahati. He could have his share of relaxation. There was no dearth of money, too. Whatever they had, it was enough to live happily. Whenever he took up a case, he earned. Even by his mere appearance in a case prepared by his juniors, he earned enough fees. Prasanta Madhab had so far led an independent life. He felt that even in one’s greying years, one should be on the giving side, specially towards their own children. He had spent the last seventy-five years with this philosophy.

With the dawn approaching, he could hear some birds chirping. This morning would be a new morning. He was now seventy-six years old. He could not get any sleep. Nirmala was still sleeping. He looked up at the ceiling fan. It was moving. For him, the revolving of the fan seemed to symbolise life itself... How life was also moving so fast!

He reminisced. Once, Diganta had visited him. In between the conversation, he justified, ‘Look Dada, at one time you should let go off your self-ego. It’s not true that you or I shall always command everything.’ He uttered these words when he saw his elder brother suffering from loneliness. He was indeed lonely! He and Nirmala felt left out once Pranab left for Baroda with Arpita and Babloo. Prasanta Madhab thought, why did he not stop them? He could have said, ‘Come back, my son. This is your home. I have become old. Even your mother cannot pull on with the household alone. Your Dada cannot stay here, either. So, you take charge of the house.’ These very words – ‘take charge’ – Prasanta Madhab had never uttered to him. Nor had he expressed his desire to visit his daughter and her family in the USA. Looking at Nirmala, he wondered why had he never told her, ‘Nimu, get ready, we shall go out for dinner tonight. Has he ever held her hand? When was the last time he had admired her beauty? Why couldn’t he renew relationships with good expressions? Life was moving fast, he looked up at the moving fan. It was 4 am. He tried to get some sleep. ‘Koka, Happy Birthday...’ It was Babloo’s voice he had heard! Prasanta Madhab thought he was dreaming. He woke up quickly. He didn’t know when he had fallen sleep. His own, his very own son, daughter-in-law and grandson, Babloo, were around his bed, smiling and holding gifts and bouquets of flowers! Pranab smiled, ‘Deuta, we have just arrived by the Morning Express.’ ‘Deuta, Ma rang up and told us that you miss us all the time,’ Arpita said. Prasanta hugged his grandson close to his heart. He smiled and said, ‘Pranab, your mother is the only one who really understands me. But I had no inkling that she would arrange all this! Your homecoming is the best gift for me.’

He continued, ‘Bipul was supposed to come home yesterday. Probably, that was also her ‘arrangement’. But he rang up to inform that his leave had been cancelled. ‘I do miss you all, my son, but I didn’t know that your mother feels it or knows it so deeply.’

Prasanta Madhab couldn’t say more. He got up from his bed, and embraced Pranab. He then embraced his five-year-old grandson, and started crying. Prasanta Madhab felt like he was now a ‘child’ to his children ... a ‘child of seventy-six’!

Pranab and Arpita sat down on the bed near him. Pranab lovingly held his father’s hand and said, ‘Deuta, freshen yourself up. We shall have a grand birthday celebration. Ma has arranged for a ‘Black Forest cake’! It has just arrived. Cheer up, Deuta’. As he was getting up, Pranab said – ‘We are there for you, Deuta. Dada, myself, we are all for you. And moreover, Ma is there for you. Ma is already in the puja room offering prayers.’

At that very moment, Bipul rang up from the LOC. ‘Happy Birthday, Deuta. We all love you, Deuta.’ Another call came from Majani and her husband, and the next phone call was from Amala and Pari from Udhampur. Prasanata Madhab became emotional again. Holding Babloo close to him, he said, ‘It is a beautiful world! Life is also very beautiful!

He saw Nirmala standing near the door, holding a puja thali. He saw her moist eyes, which, too, seemed to have silently told him – ‘see the brighter side. Yes, the world is beautiful!’

(concluded)

Translated by: Suprabha Goswami

Col. (Retd.) Monoranjan Goswami