The Cloudburst

By Subhro Banerjee

This is a story of nature and its impact on human lives. This is a story of friendship, love and lovelessness of three persons at the backdrops of the wilderness of a forest in India and the mighty Himalayas and their realization about the ultimate truth of our lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Oct 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9781482813586

Subhro Banerjee

Subhro Banerjee has written since his teen age. But his dream of becoming a writer was fulfilled in 1996, when his first book was published. The book gave him good readership, which encouraged him to write more and his writings won the appreciations of the readers and the critics. Many of his writings were published in the leading magazines. He is an Electronics Engineer by profession and runs his own organisation. His profession and strong passion for traveling have taken him to various parts of the world, where he has got the opportunities to come into contact with many people of different communities. He has observed their lifestyles, day to day activities and tried to analyse their inner feelings. All these have been reflected in his various writings. Born in Kolkata, India, he lives with his wife, Tanusree and son, Sayan in Salt Lake City, near Kolkata. His family and his very good friend, Rakesh Goyle, have been his sources of inspiration for writing, besides carrying on with his regular professional activities. Besides writing and traveling, he has a great passion for music. He and his wife have a musical troupe, which performs regularly at different places.

Book preview

11395.png

Copyright © 2013 by Subhro Banerjee.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

To order additional copies of this book, contact

Partridge India

000 800 10062 62

www.partridgepublishing.com/india

[e-mail]

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Nature rules the world just because she can create anything and after that can destroy it in a flash.

To

Tanusree & Sayan

Chapter 1

‘Respected Mr. Kapoor,

I do not know whether this letter will ever reach you, but I am sending it as per the last request of my mother… .’

I was coming out of the conference room when I received the letter. I had just wrapped up a meeting with the Finance Minister. My secretary, Ashok Mehta, was there with me briefing me my schedules for the next day.

I read the letter twice. Suddenly it occurred to me that to date everything I had done was useless.

Ashok, please cancel all my appointments for the next few days, I said. I need a break.

Ashok was very surprised. What happened? Is there anything wrong?

I nodded my head slowly and then said, Yes, one of my very close friends has expired a few days back. I won’t be able to concentrate on my work for some time. I need a break.

Ashok said, It’s okay. I shall cancel your appointments for the next few days. Most of them are routines. But in a few days, you have an appointment with the minister of the industries—that may be important. Will you be able to attend that meeting?

I am not sure, I said. I will try to attend that meeting. But if I cannot, please postpone it and tell him that I am indisposed.

In that case, would you like to return to Kolkata? Asked Ashok. Shall I arrange for your air ticket?

I thought for a moment and then said, I would prefer going someplace, where I can spend some time alone for a few days.

Ashok thought for a while. Sir, if you don’t mind I can give you a suggestion? You could go to Hardwar and Hrishikesh, which are quite close to here. It takes a few hours to reach there by car or bus. Sitting on the banks of the Ganges might help you feel better.

I have never been to Hardwar or Hrishikesh, I said. But I have heard a lot about those places from my aunty, when she was alive. She used to give me detailed descriptions of the Lakshman Jhoola and the temples near Hrishikesh. But, I am not sure whether I’ll like those places as those are mainly pilgrimages. After thinking for a while I said, Okay I shall go. If I don’t like them, then I’ll return.

In that case, shall I book a car for you? Ashok asked.

No, it is not necessary. I shall go by bus.

By bus! Ashok could not believe it. Will you be able to travel by bus?

Why not? I shall travel by bus. I said firmly.

Ashok did not argue with me.

Next morning, he came to the bus stand to see me off. I could see from his body language that he felt very uncomfortable to see me sitting in one of the back seats of the bus. Probably he could not believe that Asish Kapoor, the renowned businessman, who owned so many cars at home, was traveling on an ordinary bus overcrowded with local people!

He said somewhat hesitatingly that in case of any problem I should inform him immediately. I nodded—I could not tell him that this was a type of self-imposed exile from my known world. I wanted to be in seclusion for some time. I was feeling that whatever I had achieved was absolutely meaningless. Until now, I had struggled hard to keep Manju out of my mind. But, now as she was no more, so whatever I had done was totally immaterial.

I never assumed that I would miss her so much. Even when Reena was alive, Manju was there in my mind. Although I never disclosed anything to her, Reena could sense that there was a mental gap between us. She was my wife and I fulfilled her necessities but, I never could really love her. Whenever she tried to get closer to me, I had kept her at a distance. Reena never asked me anything—she did not want to know why I behaved like that with her—but, I knew that she was very lonely. She tried to spend her days with our only son.

Reena was a strange lady. She had never demanded anything from me. She only hoped that at some point I would start loving her—which I never did,

Suddenly I started missing Reena very much and felt very guilty for not giving her the proper attention and love that she deserved. Even when she was suffering from cancer I went to Thailand on an official visit. I only returned receiving the news of her death. On her deathbed, she was holding a photograph of me.

Even after that, I had recovered quickly, and still Manju was at the centre of my thoughts.

It was a strange feeling. Now I felt that I had not paid enough attention to either of these two ladies, even though both of them had loved me and wanted to make me happy.

I felt disturbed by these thoughts and forgot about my surroundings.

Suddenly the movement of the bus jolted me back to the present. I looked at my watch and saw that it had started almost as scheduled. Ashok waved at me. I put on a smile on my face and instructed him not to disclose anything about me to anybody. In case of any emergency, he might send me an SMS, which I would respond to according to my own convenience.

The bus crossed Ghaziabad and hit the highway. Although it was autumn, the weather was still a little warm. I knew that as we would head further north towards the Himalayas, the weather would start getting cooler and cooler.

I looked at my co-passengers. I could tell that a big group of tourists was on the bus. As I was from Kolkata and could understand Bengali very well, I understood from their discussions that they had come from Kolkata and were on their way to Kedarnath, where their guru would hold some ceremony. But first they were going to Hardwar, where they would stay for a day before proceeding to Kedarnath.

I had heard of Kedarnath before but, had never had the opportunity to go there. I thought that it would be nice if I could go there now. But as I did not know anything about the place or how to go there, I felt little uncertain. I decided that after reaching Hardwar, I would make up my mind about what I would do.

I looked outside. It was a very beautiful bright day. I could see that the grains in the fields had ripened turning the fields golden. At times I saw big trailers were going. On those there were special containers filled with maize. They were looking like gigantic pots. Everything was so beautiful and peaceful. It seemed nothing had changed; everything was going on as usual. Even though I was feeling a great loss, it was nothing but a personal one—the rest of the world did not care. Lost in my own thoughts, I stared out of the window without seeing anything particular.

I returned back to the present when I realized that the person sitting next to me was tapping my arm. I looked at him. He was a middle aged man, may be in his late fifties, almost of my age, one of the tourists. He asked me in broken Hindi, Do you know what these are?

I did not disclose that I know Bengali very well, as I was not in a mood to talk. I replied in Hindi, Those are containers carrying maize and going to the storage houses.

The man was looking at the trailers with wide eyes. After a while he said, I have never seen these before.

I smiled at his innocent confession. You will see plenty of them throughout the trip.

The man did not answer. After some time the bus reached Meerut, where a few passengers got off and a few others boarded. The man took out a packet of biscuits from his side bag, opened the wrapper and said, Please have one.

I felt a bit uneasy and said, I don’t need it.

The man again said, It is absolutely fresh. Take one. We have to travel for another few hours. You will feel hungry.

I was going to refuse again but, something told me to accept it. These were the people with whom I would remain for the next few days. I should interact with them as one of them. I took one biscuit from the packet. The man became very happy. He took one for himself. After I finished the biscuit, he offered me another. This time without hesitation I took one. I realized that I was feeling a little more relaxed.

The man asked me, Do you live in Delhi?

I said curtly, No.

The man did not ask anything more. I felt somewhat guilty. I supposed he had expected that I would ask where he lived, in a reciprocal gesture. But I could not help it—I had been taught to be reserved and not to talk much with strangers. Still, I felt bad. Probably the man was thinking that I was very proud or rude. So I looked at the man and asked politely, Where are you going?

The man looked at me and smiled. I observed that he looked very intelligent and pleasant, with bright eyes and a nice smile. "We are going to Kedarnath. There, our Guru Anand Maharaj will conduct a holy pyre on the date of Sankranti (the last day of the lunar month). On our way, we will stay at Hardwar for a day . . . Perhaps you have heard the name of Anand Maharaj-ji."

I tried to think if I had ever heard of him. There were so many gurus all over India. These days I had seen many hoardings in the streets of Kolkata, saying that such and such guru would deliver speeches on better living. There must be many people who pay to listen to the lectures.

I remembered that Reena had gone to listen to one such lecture with one of her friends. Later, when she informed me about that visit, I told her that I did not have any faith in those gurus and I did not want to hear about them. Seeing my discontent, she did not say anything and she never went to a lecture again. She never had done anything in her life that I did not like. But did I ever bother to do things that she liked? Did I ever care about what she wanted? I knew the answer—never. Sitting in the bus, I felt very guilty.

The man asked once more, Have you ever heard the name of Anand Maharaj-ji?

I confessed, No. Is he a renowned saint?

The man was a little disappointed by my ignorance. He said, You haven’t heard his name? He is one of the most renowned saints of India. If he blesses someone, that person is sure to succeed in any field. Ever since I met him, I have been at peace.

I was rather amused by his passion, but I did not want to hurt his feelings. So I said with a lot of false enthusiasm, Is it? If I get the opportunity then I shall try to meet him.

The man was very pleased. If you’re interested, I shall try to make arrangements so that you can meet him. Guru-ji likes me for whatever reason. If I ask him, I think he won’t deny me.

I said politely, That’s so nice of you.

The man thought for a while and said, Why don’t you come to Kedarnath, where Guru-ji will conduct the pyre? It’ll be a wonderful experience.

I said, Let me see. If I can, I shall try to go.

The truth was, I was not at all interested in meeting this guru—but I thought that a visit to Kedarnath would not be a bad idea.

He asked me, Where are you going?

I said, I don’t have any set agenda.

Wonderful. Are you alone?

Yes.

Oh! Like me. The man sighed.

I looked at him, surprised. He was apparently a very jovial person, so I was astonished to hear the change in his tone. I did not have any response, but I wanted to keep the conversation going. So I said, Why do you want to wander around alone? I thought that you’re traveling with your family.

The man smiled faintly and said, It seems that you’re also a family man and belong to a wealthy family. Why are you traveling alone like this?

I hesitated for a minute and then said, Yes, I am a family man, but my wife died this February, and my only son is pursuing his studies while staying in a hostel. So I don’t know whether you can call me a family person anymore.

The man was somewhat embarrassed for his inadvertent reminder of my loss. He said, I am sorry. Anyway, if you wish, you can join us at Kedarnath.

I said absent-mindedly, Let me see.

The man replied, I shall expect you in Kedarnath. My name is Raghuveer Sen. We will stay at Hotel Himgiri, which is very close to the temple. If you come there, I shall be very happy.

I smiled but did not make any promises. I felt a little uneasy. Why was this man so friendly? My experience and status had taught me not to be close with any unknown person—particularly if I did not get any benefit from him.

Raghuveer asked, May I know your name, please?

Asish Kapoor.

He said, Okay Mr. Kapoor, it was so nice to have you as a fellow passenger. I don’t know where the time went. We have almost arrived at Hardwar.

I looked outside with interest. The bus was crossing a bridge over a small canal. There were a few hotels scattered here and there.

When I was very young, my grandfather told me that the river Ganga first touches the plains at Hardwar. That’s why it is treated as a very holy place by the Hindus. In the old myths, the gods and the demons fought over the nectar obtained after churning the ocean. The gods stole it so that the demons could never drink it and become immortals. While returning to Heaven, the gods stopped at four places—Allahabad, Ujjain, Nasik and Hardwar. And so, every four years the Kumbh Fair is held at Hardwar. Thousands of pilgrims come to take a dip in the Ganges so that their sins are washed away and their souls may go to heaven after their deaths.

I smiled to myself, wondering how many sins the Ganges would still be able to wash out. I was engrossed in my own thoughts yet again, when Raghuveer touched my arm and said, Won’t you get ready? We have reached Hardwar.

I looked outside. The bus had halted at the terminus. What I saw did not appeal me. I was imagining that it would be quiet and peaceful. But the place was so noisy and dusty that I felt like returning to Delhi. Then I told to myself that I had not come here for a luxurious holiday. For that, I could have easily gone to Switzerland. I had come here to get away from my routine life that I felt intolerable.

I got off the bus with my suitcase. I walked away without saying goodbye to Raghuveer. He had seemed like a nice man, but still just a commoner who believed in some guru.

The cacophonic sounds—the horns of the buses and trucks, bells of the rickshaws and loud music coming from nearby stalls—were making me sick. I did not know what to do. I looked helplessly around me. I saw a few rickshaws at the stand. I approached one rickshaw puller and asked him to take me to a decent hotel.

The rickshaw puller took me to a certain spot on the highway and told me I could get off now. I could not understand why he was telling me to do so. I asked him, Where is the hotel?

He pointed towards a bridge and said, Sir, you have to cross the bridge on foot. On the other side, by the side of the river, are a few hotels that you may like. No vehicle is allowed to pass this point.

I said, Why don’t you come with me and show me the hotel. I shall pay you something extra.

The man agreed. He took the suitcase from my hand and guided me over the crowded narrow bridge. After crossing the bridge, we walked through small lanes that led to the bank of the Ganges. A few steps away, I saw a hotel named The River Bank. From outside it seemed to be a moderately good hotel. The rickshaw puller took me to the reception lobby. The gentleman sitting in the counter was reading the morning paper. Seeing us, he stood up and greeted me. I asked whether I could get a good room overlooking the river.

The man rang a bell. Soon, a young man appeared. The manager instructed him to show me a room on the second floor. The young man asked me to follow him.

The room was not very big, but it was quite cozy. On all the walls were big glass windows through which I could see the Ganges. I could see Har-Ki-Pyari, situated close to this place.

I opened the door that led to the small balcony. I looked to the left. A big crowd had gathered near Har-ki-pyari. Probably it was time for the evening prayer. On both sides of the riverbank, there were many temples from which emitted the sound of conches and pealing of bells.

I went back inside and lay down on the bed. I was quite fatigued by the bus journey. I tried to remember when I had last traveled by bus within India. I could not remember exactly. Probably twenty years ago. Of course, I had traveled by bus quite a number of times in places outside India, but those trips were different. I remembered the face of Raghuveer and the other passengers. I remembered Raghuveer’s friendliness and the way he offered me the biscuits. I felt bad thinking that I had kept myself apart from these people for so many years. What did I gain? Nothing! Yes, I had earned lot of money and become famous. But in the process, I had lost many friends, relatives—and above all, Manju.

I remembered Manju’s face vividly.

*     *     *

My parents died in a car accident when I was quite young. One of my distant relatives whom I used to call aunt gave me shelter but, I had to assist her in all sorts of household works. I had a great zeal for studies but, to do that I had to earn the expenses by doing private tuitions. When I was in the final year of my college I started coaching Manju who was in her second year. She was quite intelligent, good looking and above all her nature was also very nice. Slowly we fell in love with each other. Unfortunately, at that time, my financial situation was such that it was not possible for me to get married. Manjul had assured me several times that she would be able to adjust to my home. And that she would cope with whatever income I could make. But I did not dare to make her do that. Later she informed me that her parents were negotiating an arranged marriage and it was becoming very difficult for her to prevent them from doing so. I became so frustrated about everything that I told her if she could not find a way to delay the marriage, then she should marry the boy of her parent’s choice. My frustration led me to put this to her very harshly. I remember her standing helplessly in front of the gate of Victoria Memorial Hall as I left. Several times after that, she had tried to contact me but, she was unsuccessful.

I admit that I also had some false vanity that told me not to meet her again until I become somewhat more established. Sometime later I got an offer from a company. The salary offered was much better and I felt that, at last, I could get married. I went to Manju’s house to give her the good news and was shocked to find that she had got married few days earlier. For a long time, I was unable to sleep. Much later, I came to feel that it was all been there in my fate.

Even now, if I closed my eyes, I could see Manju standing helplessly in front of the gate of Victoria Memorial Hall . . .

After few years of our separation, I met her in the National Library. I went there to collect some data regarding the advancement of some technology, which was needed for my office.

I was searching for the books, when I suddenly saw her. She was sitting at the other side of the room, with some books. I found that she had seen me and looking at me. Seeing her, I waved. She replied with a faint smile. I went to her and sat by her side. I saw the red mark of Sindoor on her forehead. Manju noticed that I was looking at her forehead. She said mildly, "I waited for you Asish. I went to your house to tell that I would be able to adjust myself with whatever you earn but, your aunt didn’t allow me to enter your house. I tried to contact you desperately and even asked some of your college friends to tell you to contact me immediately as it was very urgent. I expected that you would call me but, you didn’t. Then it came to my mind that you were not serious about our relationship. At that time there was tremendous pressure from my parents for my marriage. I gave my consent . . .

My husband is a professor. He’s a nice person. He wants me to do my doctorate. So I’m doing the same. He’s very happy but, the problem with me is that when he draws me close to him, I see your face in him. I don’t allow him to understand that. But you should know it. Still I don’t know what my fault was that you gave me such a punishment.

I found that Manju was trying her best to control her emotions. I slowly held her hand. She removed it. I was cursing myself that I was responsible for this and now I had lost the right even to touch her.

Manju, I don’t know, why I ran after my career at that time. Probably, I thought that when I would be established I would be able to keep you more comfortably but, to do that I’ve lost you.

Leave it. I’ve tried to forget those days.

But really have you been able to forget those days? I asked.

No I just wanted to meet you once to know why you did it to me. What was my fault? Only for that I couldn’t forget those days. I think now I’ll be able to do that.

Manju, we’re still friends. Can marriage be the only relationship between two human beings? We still love each other from the bottom of our hearts. Don’t we?

Manju studied me for a moment. Then she said, Asish, my heart is not so big that I’ll be able to love two persons. Let me love my husband. I’ve accepted the fact that it was not in my destiny to become your wife or live with you. I think you should marry and get settled. With our past relationship, I feel that it is better for both of us not to meet any more.

She closed her books, got up, went to the counter to return the books and left the room without even looking at me. I kept sitting and looking at the door through which she left, thinking that she might return but, she never came back. After some time I left. That was the last time I saw her.

*     *     *

After that day, I tried to forget her, thinking that she was the wife of some other person, might be mother of children; I should not keep her in my mind and should forget her… I used to tell myself that she had forgotten and forgiven me for what I did in my youth. But I was wrong. She never forgot me. Even during her last days, she had thought of me and asked her daughter to inform me that she had finally left me forever. What was I doing then? Becoming more famous! Could not I try to find out how she was? But I never did, thinking she was well settled in her life and didn’t love me anymore.

I gripped my fist tightly and banged it on the bed. Tears were coming out of my eyes. I did not want to wipe them away. After a while, I got up. I went to the washroom