MISS BELA BOSE | IMON ROY

Ayan, quickly opened the new email whose notification was being highlighted. It was not just a mere email of appointment to a good job, but was the ray of hope in his immaterial life, one step closer to a new beginning, a dream coming true, which was so for years unknown. He couldn’t believe in the fact that he had cracked the interview and was appointed to a position of importance. He checked the email once again, and with high enthusiasm he called out to his mother, who always has been a pillar of support for him. What happened next is very much common in Kolkata’s typical Bengali families, Ayan’s mother was no different. She first shed a few tears of joy, then blessed her son and got on the phone to let everyone know about her son’s new job. Meanwhile, Ayan’s father rushed out to buy the entire sweet shop. Ayan, saw all these happening around, and smiled with relief. It was the sunset in the mid sky of chaotic Kolkata, which reminded Ayan of someone, someone special to him.

I don’t know much about where the present generation teenagers go for having a good time with their loved ones. Many say that relationship with someone and academics cannot go together simultaneously, as either of them would definitely get hampered. Well that’s true, and majority of them choose the later to the former, as in a typical Indian society marks and jobs are as important as life and death. Hence, most of the teenagers then were in a multiple relationship with the books, staying highly committed. The libraries were stuffed with students, as the scenery is today in a local train from Howrah. It is well said that, “ When in Rome, do like the Romans do”, as that’s what Ayan was also going on with. His morning begun with books and ended with the same, and unknowingly he was into a race like the other rats. Similar was the day as it used to be, the same books, the same theorems, and the same library filled with high expectations of parents. Ayan was busy with a question, the solution being lengthy, holding high importance for him, and it was then when a sweet voice asked for permission to have a seat. Ayan was a student who used to remain highly focused, but at that moment, even he stopped thinking about the solution and took a look at the girl. She was in her traditional attire which was then the only dress code accepted by the narrow minded society. She was pretty, with eyes of unseen beauty and a smile of innocence. She was waiting for a reply. Ayan gave a nod to affirm and again got indulged into the question which was still unsolved. The girl saw the struggle Ayan had in not being able to get into a conclusion, and she dragged the notebook and drew an answer to the question. Ayan was was annoyed in the beginning, but later on with amazement he thanked her. “ I am Bela Bose. I saw the question and thought of helping you out. How about you?”. Ayan introduced himself, and thanked her once again. “ Where do you stay Ayan?”, asked Bela. “ Near to the Bazar, next to the fruit shop, close to Park Street”, replied Ayan. She replied with a tone of excitement that even she lived in an apartment near Park Street. As the conversation went on, the students around gave a look of being disturbed, and as if Ayan and Bela had done a crime by speaking in the library. They both saw this and laughed out, just like a kid laughs after a mischief.

Don’t know what brought them together, maybe something which many couldn’t understand then. Ayan now had someone to share everything with. They came to the library together, spoke a lot but in whispers as that’s what the rule was then. They even met at Victoria Memorial, the lover’s point of Kolkata then, which still continues to be so in 2022 as well. Their views, aspirations, interests matched and both acted as a pillar of support for each other. They used to spent hours in watching the sunset near the bank of Ganges, birds flying back to their nest and the cold soothing breeze making them free from the burden of expectations and orthodoxy of the society. It was this moment which made them meet again and again, as they wanted to sail away, just like the boat sailed with its destiny to reach an unknown island. Bela was someone, for whom Ayan’s life took a new turn, a new side which remained unexplored for so many years, maybe for the good or for the opposite. But this was early Kolkata, not the modern one where liberal parents exist. This simple and warm bond of friendship, which was a sign of innocent love and care was looked upon as the way towards one’s failure. Moreover, parents were quiet strict, and such issues if they got to know, then it is inevitable to understand that what the consequences could be. However, they didn’t face anything like that, as liberty was granted to a few who considered them to be fortunate.

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Time changes, and so do the conditions, and that’s what was visible in the late 20th Century. People then had telephone lines, to communicate in a better way, as that’s what they knew as development. It was one evening, when Bela eagerly was waiting for the telephone to ring, for the news which could have changed everything in her and Ayan’s life, a life which they both desired for, a dream which they both dreamt of. Bela knew that it was Ayan’s third attempt in a job interview, with the previous two being messed up. But she encouraged him with the hope that this time it would be great. This job was not only important for being able to earn a good living, but also was an answer to the societal question, ‘ How much does he earn?’. This condition was and supposedly even today is the prime condition before the planning of an Indian wedding. The telephone rang with a ray of hope. Bela picked up the telephone, it was Ayan.

Ayan very well knew that the number was correct. He tried a hundred times, but every time the reply was made by the girl that the number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Why is Bela not picking up the call? She will be happy to know that Ayan had finally got the job. After failing to get her on call, he decided to give the good news directly. It was around five in the evening, when Ayan pushed the bell to let his presence be heard. But, why isn’t anyone opening the door? “ Bela? Bela!” , called out Ayan, but none replied. Later on Ayan got to know about the reality of what had actually happened with Bela, and it was this reality which was much harder than the word itself to be accepted. After Ayan failed to get a job in his third attempt, Bela was forced to marry someone whom her father chose and it has been almost a year to this incident, with them no more residing in that place.

Ayan had a bouquet of roses in his hand, which seemed to be colorless, with the world being too harsh, lacking the human emotions, giving way to a void that shall remain so till the end of infinity. All that he dreamt of was fulfilled, but at the cost of the one for whom he dreamt. What is the use of this dream, where none can live for? Is love so easy to be lost within the darkness of sacrifice? How is it so easy to forget, whom you love? All these questions had no answer as none had one. Ayan was speechless, filled with disappointment of being a failure, even after achieving so much, which now hold no value. Tears rolled down his eyes, with the spectacles growing blurry. It rained heavily that day, as if even nature shed its tears with him. It was dark by then, with the lanes being darker, filled with the lonely silence, much different than what normal Kolkata lanes used to be. Ayan felt as if Bela whispered in his ears, ‘ I didn’t have any option.’ Replying to it Ayan said in a lower voice, ‘ I got the job Bela! Bela I got the job!’. After this, he ran down the lane, getting himself wet with rain, and laughing out loud in the middle of the street, as a child does after a mischief.

“Madam, its time, you have to leave the patient now”, requested the nurse. She was a mother who came to visit her son, who turned out to be mentally unstable and became a permanent member of the hell, which many call as mental rehab.“Ma! tell her that I had got the job. She will be very happy. Ma! Are you listening to me? Ma!”. She had no words, but only tears of helplessness. Her son had a bouquet of rose and blurry spectacles, just wanting to tell Bela that now she was going to be Mrs. Bela Bose.

IMON ROY

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