That Night in Belur...

My phone began to ring. It was so breezy that at first I thought that the sound was coming from a distance. I took out the phone. It was Betu. “Dada, where are you right now? I want to meet you,” he said. “Beta, I can’t meet you now. I’m a little busy” I replied. There was a pause on the other end, and then he said “You don’t sound okay, Dada. Is everything alright? Please tell me where you are right now!” he begged.

I looked at the Ganges in front of me. The water mirrored the lights of the buildings and factories on the other bank. The reflections shivered on the waves. It was cold, it was dark, and I was alone on an obscure ghat in Belur. I was trying to take a decision. I was thinking whether there was any point in my living anymore.

“Beta,” I said, “do you love me?” His panicked voice resounded from the phone, “Yes, Dada, of course. Why are you asking such questions today? Please tell me what has happened! Please tell me where you are! Please, Dada, don’t do anything rash!” He started crying. My brother. But today I would not let even him bring me back.

When dad was on ventilation in the hospital and the doctors had said that he may not live, I had stared at his face for a long time one evening. It was full of pain and sadness. Perhaps he had sensed that his right hand had been amputated. I had put my palm on his forehead and told him, “Baba, don’t worry. Everything will be alright. I’ll soon complete the M.A. and get a job. We’ll be fine, you’ll see.” He was very happy when I scored a high percentage in M.A. He hugged me and wept when I got my job offer letter. He was ecstatic when I told him about my registration in a Ph.D programme. For two years it seemed I had indeed succeeded in bringing him back to his normal self.

For those two years she had constantly been by my side. In every moment of happiness and crisis she had shared my emotions; she had kept telling me that everything would be fine soon. She told me that I was her hero; that she had never loved anyone more than me. Our parents were getting ready for our wedding. Everything would indeed be fine again, I had begun to believe. Until she left me. Why did such a young and lovely human being have to die? Why was God so bent on destroying me?

I would not be able to face my parents with the news. I would not be able to fight another big battle to organise my life. My life, of which perhaps nothing more remained. The Ganges seemed to be the only place where nothing bad and scary would touch me again. It was time to go.

I suddenly felt someone’s palm on my shoulder. “Don’t even think about dying,” his angry voice ordered. And then he began to sob. “Don’t leave me, Dada, please don’t leave me. He hugged me tightly and kept saying, "amake ebhabe chhere choley jeo na Dada...tumi choley gele amio morey jabo..." His tears wet my chest. I slowly put my hands around him and kissed his forehead.

Life wouldn’t let go of me yet, I realised.