MY BEST FRIEND

He was my closest friend. We were of the same age. Whenever there was a problem, we would discuss it together and find a solution. He was me and I was him. There was nothing that I could keep away from him. We were very close to one another and always longed to see each other.

One day, I found him deeply engrossed in thoughts. I woke him up from his thoughts and enquired what exactly was he so deeply thinking about.

“It is something which I should not be bothering about right now. But I will have to, later.”, he replied.

“Speak out clearly to me man. To whom else can you confide your mind?”, I prompted.

“That is true. It is about my marriage that I was thinking about”, he said.

“Last week only you said that you completed 25 years. Still there are many years ahead for it. Why do you think about it now?”, I queried.

“Marriage would always be an expensive affair. Unless one plans in advance, he won’t have the money for it”, he explained.

“No man, your parents would think of it and take care of it. You need not bother much about it now”, I tried to pacify him.

“No dear. My parents are quite unlikely to think of it in the near future. Our house construction itself is only half done. Their priority would be to complete it first”, he pointed out.

“That is natural. Let it be completed and then only they can think about the marriage of their children. By the way, how many brothers and sisters you have?”, I asked.

“Only one sister, but she had been married off long back when we were staying in our ancestral home”, he replied.

“And what about your brothers?”, I enquired.

“Elder one is employed and he is already pressing my parents for his marriage. The younger one is still studying”, he answered.

“That means you have one more waiting above you. So, let the house construction be over and then let his marriage also be over. Then only your parents can think about yours”, I explained.

“But my elder brother says that he has already attained the age for marriage and has with him the money also to meet the expense for it. He doesn’t want to wait till the completion of the house construction. All that he wanted from parents is that they should co-operate and conduct his marriage for him”, he said.

“But when would be the house construction completed? Should it not be done first?” I asked.

“That is true. But there is a point in what he says. If he is to wait for the construction to be over, his age would run much forward and he would miss his prime youth before his marriage. In fact, he seems to me very logical and practical”, he justified his brother.

“Sure. But what did your parents say for that?”, I queried.

“They had to agree. That is their duty. House construction may take years”, he quipped.

“But he needs a room to stay with his wife”, I pointed out.

“He had taken care of that. Construction of one room is already completed. He says that he can use that room”, he said.

“He is not only logical and practical, but clever too”, I remarked.

“I do not want to lag behind. I feel that I should also think on that line”, he said.

“What do you mean?”, I questioned him suspiciously.

“If I also save money for my marriage and put forward the same argument, my parents would not be in a position to refuse”, he explained.

“But what about completing the house construction man?”, I asked.

“That can wait. Marriages should be in time, you see. Age won’t wait.”, He reasoned.

“But, have you saved for your marriage? You had been sending all the left out balance to your home so far”, I asked.

“That is what I had been thinking on. I think I should stop sending money and save it for my own marriage”, he declared his thoughts.

“Good idea. But where will you sleep with your wife, if you do not have another room constructed in your unfinished home?”, I asked.

“I have to sleep somewhere any way and my wife can also sleep by my side. It is not important to have a room. After all, I would be in home only for a few days, while on leave”, he replied.

Later, he said that his brother’s marriage had been fixed and that he was going on leave to attend it.

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When he came back from leave, he said that his brother’s marriage function went off well.

“When are you going to have yours?”, I asked.

“I had already suggested to my parents that I would also like to get married during my next year leave”, he replied.

“And what did your parents say?”, I asked.

“They put to me the same question you asked, that where would I sleep with my wife. And I gave them the same reply I gave you”, he said.

“And did they agree?” I asked.

“Not yet. But they will have to, because they can’t show disparity between the sons”, he explained.

“And what does your brother say”, I asked.

“He is already thinking of building a home for him and his wife. He is no more concerned about anything else”, he replied.

“Then what about your house construction?”, I asked.

“Yes. I would also think of constructing a home for me and my wife. But, let my marriage be over first”, he replied.

“Not that. I am asking about the construction of the home you are staying now.”, I corrected him.

“That is my parent’s home. They should have planned it well before and built it. They should not just pass over their burdens and responsibilities on our shoulders. If we take up all that, our children would also meet the same fate as us”, he justified.

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He got married as he planned.

When he returned after the marriage, I asked him how his wife was.

“She is a true friend, indeed. But you are always my best friend”, he conceded.

“But, why?”, I asked.

“Because you are me and I am you”, he replied cheerfully. Laughing heartily, I turned away from my room mirror and walked out.

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A LONELY BURIAL

It was late evening. The visiting time in the military hospital was over and I was about to take leave of my wife who had been admitted there. It had been three weeks since she got admitted. The doctor was hopeful of a normal delivery. She had been admitted early as the baby inside reverted its head to upside, each time the doctor tried to turn it down by massaging. She had to have total rest, the doctor had said. Once admitted, the massaging showed result and the baby maintained its head downwards. We were now to wait for the pain to start. The doctor was very dedicated to his profession. He would visit the hospital at odd times in the night to see that the staffs on duty were available and attended to the patients properly. Resorting to a caesarian was his last option. But even after the maximum possible wait, the pain was not developing for my wife. He informed me that if she did not develop pain even during the night, he would resort to the last option on the next day morning itself. No further wait; he declared.

Next day was an all India strike day. The hospital or any military establishments would not be affected by any strike. So, that was not a concern for the doctor. But, it was a concern for me as I had to travel about 16 kms from my camp to the hospital. I had a friend’s moped for traveling, which he had given to me for my use when he left for a short term duty elsewhere. There still was a risk of someone pelting stones. I assured my wife that I would try to come, if possible. “No need”, she said. There was nothing for me to do, any way. She had been in the hospital for three weeks and she knew well how much care the staff and doctor were taking for all the patients. Nutritious food was given to them. They were taken for timely exercises. There were facilities of entertainments such as televisions, magazines and indoor games. She had been enjoying those hospitalities for quiet a length of time and was confident that what was required would be done by the doctor. It was a big hospital with all the facilities. There was no cause for any worry.

There were eight women in the ward in which she was admitted. Near to her bed lay a Bengali woman. Her husband came with their first son during his visits. The boy was smart and never remained at one place for long. He would roam around here and there. Sometimes he would watch television or at other times he would play in the nearby garden with other boys who had come.

On that day, I had noted that the Bengali woman was not in her bed. My wife told me that she had been shifted to the delivery room. That woman had been requesting the doctor for a caesarian operation as she did not want to bear the pain of normal delivery. But, the doctor would not agree. For him, that was a last option. Any way, the time had come for her delivery and she had been shifted for it.

I was about to get up from the stool near my wife’s bed and leave, when one of the staffs beckoned to me. I went to him. He told me that the Bengali woman next to my wife’s bed had delivered a baby, but unfortunately it died immediately after the birth. I asked him what he wanted from me. He said that the body had to be buried, but he could not find any one to do that job. The available persons for the work had left a little early as the following day was a strike day and the buses would stop plying from the evening itself. He wanted to know whether I would do the burial. It was not unusual for the staff to take help from the visiting men as the hospital itself belonged to the family of us, the military men. For any help, we reach out for each other. That was the way.

“You can find some one else also for a company”, he encouraged.

“But, where would I bury the body?”, I asked. I was not familiar with the place.

He told me the place where the body was to be buried. There was a walking way through a bushy forest behind the hospital. On the other side of it, after a few yards, a river was flowing.

“You can bury it somewhere on the banks of the river. That is the usual place”, he said.

“I would need a spade”, I placed my requirement.

“You can find any tools you require in the garden”, he said.

I agreed. I had the moped. I need not worry about the availability of buses.

“Take a bath towel also. You can have a bath in the river after the job”, he suggested.

“Yes, of course”, I replied.

I took a bath towel from my wife and tied it around my waist, under my shirt. I did not tell her why I needed it. I went to the room where the body was kept. The staff handed over the body to me. It was bundled in cloths. I looked outside for someone for a company, but no one was available. I couldn’t spend time waiting for anyone. It would get dark soon. I had to come back before the darkness fell.  I held the bundled body in my left hand and took a spade from the garden. Keeping the spade on my right shoulder and holding the body in my left hand, I proceeded through the forest.

I had to walk only half a kilometer through the forest, when I heard the splashing sound of the running river. At the end of the forest, but away from the river, I decided to bury the body. I kept it down on the ground and removed my shirt. I tied the towel above my pants. Then, I started digging the ground. The ground was soft and I could clear the soil fast. Thinking of the pain that the mother wanted to avoid but had to suffer for nothing, I felt pity for her. I did not know whether it was a boy or a girl. That did not matter anyway. My thoughts only accelerated my work without my knowledge of it. Within half an hour, I made a pit of four feet depth. It was enough for the baby to be buried.

I took the body covered with cloths and placed it slowly in the pit. Then I started putting the soil above it. After the pit was half filled, I collected some big stones from near by and placed them above the soil. It was a precaution to prevent the body from any animal attack. After that, I put all the soil back in the pit and made a mound of mud above it.

My job was over. I was destined to do the lonely burial of an unknown child. My body was full of sweat and mud. I proceeded to the river, took bath and returned.

The Bengali woman was back in her bed along with her husband, by the time I returned to the hospital. She was silently weeping. The boy was with her and she was holding the boy close and tight. I felt that she was afraid to leave him away. By that time, they had known every thing. They also knew that I had gone to bury the body. They were looking at me as if waiting for me to come, when I arrived. I informed her husband that the body had been well buried.

I made to the hospital on my moped on the next day. I was greeted with the news that my wife had given birth to a female baby. It had to be after a caesarian. The day was 26^th February, 1986. My child had opened her eyes to this world on a day of All India Strike.

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