Mother

By Nirod Ch Sutradhar

The independence of India with its cursed partition lies at the background of the novel. The book is a family story of Sushila, a forced migrant from erstwhile East Pakistan. The shocking declaration of partition at once made them alien to their motherland. The eight-membered family, forced by circumstances to leave behind rich property, set out for India penniless. Sushilas father-in-law died on the way. That stunning blow brought her back to her past life under the guidance of her father-in-law, whose tremendous personality she tried to present, reminiscing past incidents. The contemporary social milieu and the educational system in erstwhile East Pakistan are presented through the bringing up and education of Nirbed, Sushilas elder son. The ineffable hardship and struggle of the family and finally their survival at the cost of a number of deaths that the family faced deserve praise, but Sushila was then beyond all acclaims.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Feb 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482870367

Nirod Ch Sutradhar

Dr. Nirod Chandra Sutradhar was born in 1955 in the District of Mymensingh in erstwhile East Pakistan. He passed his childhood there. Having completed his S.S.C. Examination from Dacca Board, he migrated to India in 1969. He struggled hard, to maintain his family in utmost poverty. He completed his Pre-University and Graduation in Pure Science from Alipurduar College and then joined a High School as a teacher. He got B. Ed Degree as a deputed teacher. He was Post-Graduated in English, as a private candidate, from the University of North Bengal. The English Literature, as a new subject, aroused his interest. He, later on, completed his Ph. D. Degree under the guidance of Dr G. N. Roy, a renowned English Professor of North Bengal University. The title of his Dissertation is “The Quest for Freedom: A Critical Study of the Major Novels of D. H. Lawrence.” But in midst of his present position certainly better than the previous one, the sweet memory of his childhood and the socio-cultural environment of his birth place always haunted him. Now his parents being dead and gone, his conscience always pricked him to let the people know their ineffable struggles and sufferings for being victimised by the partition of a country. The present novel is his first publication. It is based on first-hand experience of the writer. Two other books: “A Collection of Selected Stories” and “The Quest for Freedom” are under the process of publication.

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Copyright © 2016 by Nirod Ch Sutradhar.

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CONTENTS

Preface and Acknowledgements

CHAPTER — ONE

MOTHER

CHAPTER — TWO

GRANDFATHER

CHAPTER — THREE

NIRBED

CHAPTER — FOUR

STRUGGLE

Dedicated

to

The Memory of

My Grandfather

PREFACE

AND

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The independence of India with its cursed partition lies at the background of the novel. The book is a family-story of Sushila, a forced migrant from erstwhile East Pakistan. The shocking declaration of partition at once made them alien to their motherland. The eight-membered family, forced by circumstances leaving behind rich property, set out for India penniless. Sushila’s father-in-law died on the way. That stunning blow brought her back to her past life under the guidance of her father-in-law whose tremendous personality she tried to present reminiscing past incidents. The contemporary social milieu and the educational system in erstwhile East Pakistan is presented through the bringing up and education of Nirbed, Sushila’s elder son. The ineffable hardship and struggle of the family and finally, their survival at the cost of a number of deaths that the family faced deserves praise but Sushila was then beyond all acclaims.

Now I want to make a number of disclaimers. First, the story is inspired by my own family and experiences. Secondly, the incidents and the dates of their occurrences are all taken from memory without verifying their authenticity. Thirdly, I have used names of some real places, institutions and people as they represent cultural icons of today and aid in the story-telling. There is no intention to imply anything else. Further, the book should be read as a work of fiction.

I think my great effort would be successful if the book satisfies its readers. At the same time, suggestions and constructive criticism from the readers will be gratefully received.

I gratefully pay my homage to Bharat Sevashram Sangha, Baliganj for letting me stay there at the time of preparing the manuscript for publication.

I gratefully acknowledge my gratitude,

* To Mr. Jules Hernandez, the representative of PARTRIDGE PUBLICATION who first communicated and inspired me for publishing my book.

* To Miss Ferrina Gailey, Emily Laurel, Gemma Ramos and Simone Rodrigues for guiding me in this regard.

* To all the Staff of PARTRIDGE PUBLICATION who helped and will help in very many ways in publishing and promoting the connected services of the book.

* To my wife, daughter, son and son-in-law, all my brothers and sisters for co-operating me either directly or indirectly in my writing.

* To the staff of my Institution, Shibpur High School and all other well-wishers for their great inspiration in this regard.

Finally, I welcome the readers to go through the novel, MOTHER and enjoy.

Dr. Nirod Chandra Sutradhar.

CHAPTER — ONE

MOTHER

(1)

The smoky flame of the kerosene lamp, a small round metallic container with trimmed wick of a cotton cloth, was shaking by the breeze. It was nearly mid night in the second fortnight of January. Sushila, an old mother, having sat on a six-inch high stool with an ignited brazier in front, had been waiting since evening for her younger son Kshirode. She was struggling hard to fight the biting cold with the help of the fire but it could only protect her front portion. Even the shawl she wore seemed not enough to protect her back in that old age. Her vision, already contracted for old age, was further dimmed by the white mist of the mid-night. Even she failed to identify something at the other side of the courtyard.

The wind-blown cluster of bamboos, leaning over the cottage from behind, was producing a musical sound. She was sitting alone in the Western cottage of the four-hutted house. The situation would appear ghostly to a new comer because of the dim light, the continuous uncanny sound of the bamboo cluster, and above all of the house being lonely one at that place. But Sushila was accustomed to it. In the duration of about fifteen years, her eight-membered family- after her father-in-law, sister-in-law and her husband being dead and gone, her daughters being married and her elder son being shifted at a new place because of service- was gradually diminished to two, she and her younger son.

Suddenly she shifted the brazier beside, stood up slowly with a long deep breath and bringing the lantern, lighted it. As Kshirode was getting late, she had to do one of his unfinished works. She slowly walked with the lantern to the hay-stack, saw there a big basket full of chopped hay. She pulled the basket to the cowshed and the bullocks and cows, lying comfortably, instantly stood up seeing her at the entrance. She took chopped hay with her hands and placed them in each of the eating pots by repeated attempts. Now she fetched a bucket of water from the tube well and sprinkled it over the dry hay, spreading rice bran and salt. She caressed the bullocks lightly as they were busy eating with a sweet murmuring sound.

Coming out, she closed the entrance of the cowshed with a sheet made of dry bamboo lath, took the lantern she had kept at the entrance fearing it to be broken if taken inside and slowly and silently walked towards the tube well. In order to avoid the mud created due to stagnant water around the tube well for poor drainage system, some pieces of wood plank were spread around. But those also turned slippery. Sushila kept the lantern at a distance to protect its hot glass chimney from drops of sprinkled water. For it would crack the chimney. She cautiously went to the tube well holding her slippers in left hand. Her legs were all smeared with mud at the time of fetching water for the cows. Now she washed her hands and feet, put on her slippers and came out.

She, now calm, peaceful and slow partly because of her old age and partly she had no hurry at all, went a few steps further from the lantern to cast an eye on the dark, misty and silent night. She saw at a distance a small glow of light approaching towards her along the side road of the Railway line. It was coming with a vertical rhythm like dancing and gradually becoming bigger. As it came nearer, she saw a man with a big basket on head, walking along the road holding his lighted lantern in the left hand. The flame inside was shaking in rhythm by the jerk of his body. Sushila, initially failing to identify him, now confirmed him, when he got closer, as of one the two shopkeepers whose big baskets were used as portable shops. They used to return home at such a time on each of the days of the biweekly market of Bokalir Math. He knew Sushila and was astonished to see her at the outhouse at such a time in the cold night. He came a few steps nearer and said,

Dear sister-in-law, why are you standing here at such a time? Are you O.K? Is there any problem?

No. said Sushila, Kshirode, my son, has gone to attend a religious recital in the Western Block. The ritual started late. The participants attended the function after completion of their marketing. Now he is getting late and you see I have to wait for him.

He looked at her curiously and started walking with a comment, You love your son so much that you are waiting till midnight for the safe return of your grown up son!

Now she returned to her seat. The mid night silence engulfed the house. Her pet dog, Baltu was lying at one side of the corridor. The High Road that connected Coochbehar to Alipurduar, running parallel to the Railway, was at a distance of twenty five meters east of it. Frequency of plying vehicles was markedly diminished with rarely one or two vehicles running along the road breaking the silence of the night.

She was habituated in waiting. As the function often continued till midnight, Kshrode, taking Prasad, meals offered to the Deity, used to return home sometimes after midnight. But she never had complained. She even accepted the co-operation with her son in performing his religious service as a kind of indirect worship to the God.

As a pious lady devoted to religious rituals, she often attended the holy songs as well as the recitation of the holy epics. Besides the religious understanding, recitation of those scriptures often provided her with insight and wisdom. Once a reciter, while analysing the holy Book, gave a very simple but attractive example. The children, in his opinion, when faced with some troubles, instantly went to their parents. They had the supreme power, as the children believed, to make their children free by solving the problems. The parents were the main resort of solace for the children. Similarly, we the elder people, when felt insecure, have to seek protection from our great creator, the God. Our whole-hearted prayer to Him at critical period help us become tension-free giving the entire burden to the God. We get solace in our distress having confessed our sins in prayer. Gaze in meditation before the holy image provides us with mental courage and strength to survive. We can never know what good we can do for the God by worshipping Him, but certainly we can gather tremendous mental strength to fight all evils and odds in life. It opened before Sushila, a new direction to life, secular but not outside religion.

She still had kept alive in her mind the memory of her whole-hearted prayer to God when her son fell seriously ill at the age of three. She then lived at a remote village in the district of Mymensingh in erstwhile East Pakistan where she had to treat her ailing son by quake doctors one after another because of non-availability of qualified physicians in her locality. She went from pillar to post for recovery of her son but got frustrating result. Now she had no other way but to pray to God for her son’s recovery. As the condition of her son deteriorated, the frequency and intensity of her prayer with shedding tears increased. She thought no medicine except the blessing of the God could revive her child. She remained engaged in worshipping the household deity and often visited different temples and holy Dargas, the mosque erected on the tomb of a saint, to offer prayer for the recovery of her child. She visited at Nandail, the great temple of the Goddess Durga, a live Deity according to the opinion of the worshippers, with her ailing child. She offered prayer having remained in day long fasting. But at that time, she failed to control herself and was weeping bitterly lying in front of the Goddess. She then visited the Hermitage of the great Mohammedan saint a mile away from there and offered candles, incense sticks and milk to the big tomb of the saint. She, now distressed and frustrated, returned home dispiritedly in the evening.

One day at that critical period, a mendicant monk, about six feet high with bright smiling face, wearing pale yellow loin cloth with an ascetic bowl in one hand and a walking stick in another, came to her house for begging. He was sorry to see the sobbing mother with sick child, all skin and bone on her lap, giving him alms. In reply to his enquiry, Sushila reported that her family, the only one in the Muslim Block after mass exodus of the Hindus restricted themselves in the house. She and her children rarely visit the neighbouring houses except special occasions. They had been living there dejectedly in an isolated way. The monk was stunned to listen to such words. Meanwhile, her husband Kamini arrived there and the both bowed down at his feet. Sushila let him sit on a chair. She brought a plate full of puffed rice, flattened rice, with a ripe banana, some local sugar and curdle milk. He ate the meal silently and washed his hand and face. Now he began with a smiling face,

Dear parents, it is life that matters, not religion. Why do you see them as others. They are your neighbours, companions of both weal and woe. You husband and wife, two persons of two different categories are living together. And it is essential for continuing our generations. So also, people of different cast and creed should live together for the development of the civilization.

He advised her to let the sick child play with other children of his age group under her guidance and that joy would help recover her child. Also, they should go to the govt. Hospital at Nandail and treat the child with the doctor of that Hospital. As he went out, Sushila followed him and saw him begging from all houses irrespective of religion. Now a big burden got down from her mind. Like her seniors, she thought Hindu religion a fragile thing to be destroyed by mixing and meeting people of other religion. But no. The monk, a pillar of Hindu religion showed her this. She felt herself lucky enough to meet such an open-minded monk. And that monk, she thought was sent by the God to help her in her distress. Perhaps, it is the way of the unseen God to help his devoted follower. She visited the doctor at Nandail Hospital, where her neighbours rarely went partly because of its distance and partly because of their ignorance. Within a week, her child began to recover. And that child was Kshirode.

The sudden running of Baltu, chasing the pet cat, with loud barking broke the silence of the night. Startled by loud sound of barking, she saw, turning her eyes sideways, the cat running into the cottage behind her. Baltu dejectedly sat down at its place like a defeated soldier. Sushila straightened herself and took a deep breath.

She knew it was not only devotion to God but his interest as an expert singer that attracted Kshirode to those religious functions. Even her elder son Nirbed, a good singer and player of musical instruments always participated in those ceremonies before joining in his service. Her husband Kamini, now deceased, was also a great player of musical instruments like Mridanga, an egg-shaped drum made of burnt clay, one side bigger than the other in circumference, covered both sides with flat leather sheets and tuned with leather ribbons. He was expert in wooden Drums and Tabla-Dugi. Naturally, he had a band of singers and artists who frequently performed at different houses various ritualistic songs. Add to that, he was a famous singer of Baule, the songs sung praising love and nature, analysing the physical body and spiritual uplift and so on.

Sushila felt proud for being part and parcel of such a family. Her father’s family, no doubt devoted to religion, was not expert in music. But here in this family, there was a long tradition of being musician. She experienced since her marriage, regular rehearsal of different types of seasonal songs. Often her husband had to go on hire with his band of singers for a number of days. In short music played a great role in her family. Her husband told her how playing of musical instrument helped in arranging the marriage ceremony of his grandfather. Actually the grandfather of her husband was a renowned player of a special kind of drum, egg-shaped, covered both sides with tanned leather of goat, tightened by leather ribbons that could be tuned with the help of metal rings attached to the ribbons.

At that time, dowry, not to be given by the bride but to the bride, often played a vital role in marriage. Youths with weak financial status willing to marry, could not imagine sitting on the chair as a groom, for shortage of money as dowry. A marriage without paying dowry to the bride was unimaginable. The grooms, being pressured for collecting dowry money, sometimes had to sell part of their land property keeping a blind eye to their future prospect. At such a period, the grandfather married a beautiful smart lady of high financial status with no dowry and the credit fully had gone to his superb skill in playing the drum.

It was the prevailing tradition that the musical teams of the nearby villages should be invited on the occasion of big functions. The band of musicians of Bhatisavar, the ancestral village of her husband, was invited on the occasion of the Spring Festival to Paipura, a nearby village. There, her husband’s grandfather played the drum superbly. The villagers listened to the music spellbound and were charmed. It was beyond their imagination that such an excellent music could be performed without the aid of Magic. They seized the drum thinking that there might be some mystical charm in it. On the second day, they gave the grandfather their own drum to play in the music and he played that drum also in the same spirit. Now they could realise the mistake that it was not the drum but the person who was excellent. The music party returned to the village on the third day.

But the greatest charm was waiting for them. A few days later, the head of the village, Paipura, along with two other elder persons, visited the grandfather’s house with the proposal of marriage. One of them was the father of the girl. Initially the great grandfather of Kamini hesitated to consent thinking about the dowry to be given according to their demand. He wanted to bypass the proposal on the pretext that the marriage of his son might happen but not at that time for it would take time to collect dowry-money.

At once the visitors responded in the affirmative. They expressed their intention saying that they had come to settle up the marriage of his son with the daughter of their villager of same caste without dowry. Actually, they wanted to make his son the son-in-law of that village being charmed by his qualities as a drum player and as a man. To be precise, they wanted to improve the quality of their musical team to a commendable status with the active help of the grandfather which was possible only by making him the son-in-law of a family of the village.

She was distracted by the sudden shrilling whistle of an Express Train running along the Broad Gauge Line about a kilometre away. She raised her head and looked through the gap of two cottages to see the train running at the other side of the corn field. She saw the golden glow of the head light with dim glows of lights of the coaches running like a big glowing millipede. She felt comfortable by the warmth of the brazier even in the chilly cold.

She was pre-occupied with the thought of the past, for how much time she did not know. The sudden loud call of her son startled her. She looked up and saw Kshirode in front.

Mama, are you sitting here in the cold till midnight? I am sorry Kshirode said astonishingly.

What can I do? If I go to bed and make me warm and comfortable having covered with quilt, then it would become more troublesome to come out of bed and arrange for your dinner in cold, said Sushila.

She looked at her son minutely and saw his lower portion got drenched.

Are you looking at my drenched lower portion? He asked as he saw his mother was looking at him. Then he said,

I have come along the footpath across the middle of the grown up green wheat field. The wheat plants having drenched with heavy mist made the dress of my lower portion wet by its continuous touching. Now I feel biting cold.

Then come to the hearth to get yourself warm changing your clothes and washing your feet, hands and mouth. I am tending the fire to get our meal hot. His mother said in a commanding voice.

(2)

Baraibari, a developing village in the district of Coochbehar, was bifurcated by a small river, Bithra, flowing from North to South with so many small U-like turnings. The part on the western side of the river, lower than the eastern side, was more fertile and suitable for cultivation than housing though sporadic dwelling houses, newly built, were seen here and there. About four or five hundred meters east of the river, the Meter Gauge Railway Line, probably constructed in the last quarter of the nineteenth century by the then British Government, ran parallel to it. In the pre-independent period, that M.G. Railway, the life line between the East and the West, connected via Lalmonihat Junction the entire Assam in the East and East Bengal in the south with the remaining part of India. The independence of India gave the death blow to that Railway. A part of it, through which Assam and Eastern states previously communicated, were included in East Pakistan. Consequently, a severe communication gap was created. An alternative Railway Line from Alipurduar Junction to Fakiragram Junction thus needed to be constructed on war footing. As a result, the Railway Line from Alipurduar Junction to Gitaldaha, lost its past glory to become a pocket line with only six up and down trains. The non-metalled Road passed beside the Railway, previously being used as main road between Coochbehar and Alipurduar also victimised by independence. A new State High Way was constructed instead.

Till independence, the entire area from the river to the Railway Line remained mostly un-cultivated, full of jungle plants and weeds with a number of big trees spread all over having sparse dwelling houses. In the post-Independent period mainly in the fifties and sixties, refugees mostly Hindus from East Pakistan began to settle in that area buying small plots of land from the owners. Being driven away from their mother land with hardly any cash, they were forced to buy such land because of its low price. They wanted to live a life free from religious tyranny.

Here, most of the area was covered with thorny plum plants of a special species hardly more than six feet high; each spreading over a big area like the creeping plants. Since the local people call the plum barai, so the excessive growing of that barai plants perhaps gave the name of the village as Barai Bari, the house of barai. The refugees cleared up the area uprooting the jungle plants and established along the bank of the river keeping it at the back of their houses, a new colony facing east towards the Railway Line and the High Road.

The entire land became fertile by their constant care and cultivation except the sandy sides of the river, the sides of the Road and of the railway Line where plum and ferns jointly made the area a habitat of small animals, snakes and above all of land-leeches.

While some of them had moderate quantity of land, most of them had insufficient land to grow crops. The youths of the poor families, mostly carpenters, had to search for alternative earnings. The male members went out for work of carpentry in the morning in nearby towns, furniture shops, houses and so on. Some went far off places for work and some worked at home buying wood for making furniture. While working at home, the female members often helped their male counterparts in making small furniture, like small flat wooden disc and roller for making wheat cake, wooden footwear, bracket to keep clothes, chairs, tables, dress-stand and a variety of other things.

Education for them was a luxury. Very few families could afford the expenditure of sending their children to school. They even engaged the little children in house holding chores at their own houses as well as in other houses in exchange of only daily meals. Sometimes the elder persons went out to work at others houses while the children had to do the house holding chores. To be precise, their first preference was to earn full belly meal for two times a day at all cost though often failing to earn, they frequently had to pass the days without proper food. Except a few land holders, most of the native people were needy. But unlike the refugee female who worked at home, they both husband and wife, jointly work in the field for wages.

Sushila also came here in the sixties as a refugee from the district of Mymensingh in erstwhile East Pakistan. A tragic history loomed large behind her