Indifferently, over the two mahogany trees did Twincha fly away. It meant Pori noticed from the experiences she got that a few incidents, quite a bit long and miraculous, brought about an inevitable scene through her mind and body. In the desolate place stretching half a mile, it was quite difficult to locate the source from where a clamour arouse in nature and its special part. At the moment, Seraj and Auronga sought clues for their conflict and fixed the day for mitigating it.
Once again out of her i. e. of Pori’s genital did gush blood, which was red and destined.
Once it had been a Nawab’s stable for horses. As she stepped here on the first day with Seraj, her father, she wished that everything would be wonderful and much finer. Then she smeared the peeled-off walls with white clay and decorated them with some torn pieces of inconsequential newspapers. She trimmed off the wanton lengths of the shrubs outside with a blunt dao and pasted on the door a poster of “Donate your eyes after death”. It was Pori who stood outside the door. Inside of the house, Seraj, as he was a bit unmindful and had no work to do at all, tapped on Durga’s forehead with chhola grains, not much thinking about it. Exactly south of this listless house was the sea and west of it abounded with dense hills. North of it paralleling the hills lay desolate fields where there were birds in a variety of colours…. From there, Seraj captured a strange bird named Durga for his livelihood. His income was good at the time and last night he bought some cow-meat from a hard bargain. Twice he inquired why it was taking time to get this meat fully boiled. To Pori, this moment felt like that of an Eid day. She was bathing in the pond with her mother who was cleansing the dirt off her back with a Titpolla buckle. Across the bathing ghat, some girls who stayed late into the night wore deep-colored petticoats and were rap necklace, she went to the mosque with her father and bent on a in stories about each other. Wearing a violet kamij and a beaded sejda as he did. She was on munajat when Auronga’s gruff voce pierced in suddenly, “Seraj chacha, are you there?”
– as if everything lay scattered and mother just disappeared. She could not finish her Munajat.
‘Yes, I’m. When did you come?’
Just now. Probably Twincha just flew away.’
Pori was surprised that Auronga, too, noticed this. She moved on to the corner of the hearth.
‘Let him be as he wishes’, said Seraj indifferently.
‘Chacha, be good. Don’t cheat the public. So far as it seems, Twincha’s eyes are on your house.’ Auronga looked at Pori obliquely.
Fire leapt up in Seraj’s eyes for Auronga was, after all, half his age. Then he asked, ‘Do you think Twincha don’t know what you do? You steal snake-skins and then sell them to smugglers. Your name is enlisted in the police-book. Utter this again and I shall put my foot on your throat, your teeth will be out.’ Auronga sat quiet. Pori faced a kind of fire whose reddish reflection was on her face, and a piece of glass was set in her nose-top. In her eyes was irritation, which was a bit focused straight on Auronga’s eyes; at the moment over his face a light shade, which was like a cumulous cloud, sometimes roaring, sometimes sliding on as if charged with the flow in a rock-and-pebble-filled spring. Just after that moment, Seraj felt the bitterness and the tastelessness in his whole being and in his existence, sitting face to face with his daughter. Seraj was so angry that he heard his nerves steam over Auronga. ‘Why don’t you drop a papaya piece in the pot if it isn’t fully boiled?’ asked Seraj, and then kept waiting for an answer. She did not even care about whether the day was almost wasted for the uncooked beef, and was indifferent even when pestered a bit and her outlook was quite different. Famine struck each and every village of Jessore when Pori was eight. Hunger felt as if it had devoured all like death. Her mother was consumed in that famine. Seraj kept Pori under a mango tree and went far to a longorkhana. Ah, what a turmoil it was! Struggle and tussle. Seraj could not stand as his little finger twisted but ended up swallowing two men’s share of kedgeree. Later, Seraj did not return empty-handed. He puked the whole kedgeree on a banana leaf on the canal bank and washed it in cold water. Pori did not object to it. In fact, the girl was always alone. Before Seraj became a jailbird, he had dropped Pori at a house in town. As he was out of the prison cell. Seraj found and liked this place while looking for Durga. Auronga came here much later. None but one wild duck or two lived there as they came. And he saw this bird Durga, black, nameless, a profound purity beyond beauty; Durga’s right nod brought a sudden wealth, its left nod the sign of caution; it turned the master’s sinking luck. Seraj was lucky. And almost every day it’s the way sailors, too, were eager for the -foretelling of their days to come. The educated say Bismillah and put their middle finger on the Harboleboroj page of Khabnama the dream book; what’s wrong with it here? Why shouldn’t Twincha’s care fall upon him then? Auronga’s old Mohajon informed that it was Twincha who is an invisible man, floating on the air.
The day Seraj came for Durga, he heard a voice that commanded him to turn around: Twincha was a strange man beyond words, the holy man whose auspices fell on Pori and Auronga. Pori set her father’s meal and called him in. Seraj ate with a sloppy sound that irritated Pori. Her eight years’ stay at the house in the town tied her taste to a difference manifested in her marrow, dress-up, and manners. To master Maleka Khalamma’s behavior, attitude and even the way she thought did feel like a challenge for Pori; she made it. Bathing and sending Milu and Tutu to school in the morning was the first thing she did everyday, and helping Khala at the kitchen at noon her next. Maleka Khala used to chop beef in tiny pieces and to make a delicious curry with cauliflowers. Milu and Tutu were served with egg puddings in cups before going to bed. Shova the eldest daughter of Milu Khala was three years older than Pori, and used to go to school for geometry on her reading table. The parents did not take any risk wearing white socks every day. There were a compass and other thing with such a beauty. Shova Apa was married off quickly. Pon refused to recall that it was the day Shova Apa was smeared with turmeric paste all over her body. Who knew that everyone mocked at her? Pori could not stand any longer when she was rebuked in public. That night she tore off the Master of the two universes with two of her nails and smashed Him. Looking at Seraj, her father, Porn recalled the memories – of his indifferent unconcern for her.
The roaring of the sea-tide came from far away. A father like Seraj kept quiet over the absentmindedness he even saw in his daughter, and felt as if staying far away from his own being. She was called in but still like crystallized salt. How bitter the taste was, the taste shaking the nerves and making her face a bit uneasy in appearance when the granules of salt were broken!
Why? He was confused about whether she acted like this to make him realise something;… she was fascinated with her reflection in the broken mirror a bit dark-shaded skin, of medium build in appearance, her adorable beauty; did she think the wide-chested brat from a hill would give her more security? Auronga’s Mohajon wanted to settle a wedding date for him! The brat was of the mild type and often shared one word or two with Seraj calmly. His wrath he had over Auronga so far was flying over him circularly. Before his eyes was the scene of the prison cell; and the guy to whom Seraj married off his daughter was showing respect for him. Seraj thought of all these Seraj in front of the jailer while digging into the soil under the midday sun. The main problem was that Auronga did not count on him with proper regard This place was lonesome, and the guy made it his home for lizards in the hill. Was she committing suicide with poison of Auronga the lizard!
He could not decide! He was alone!
So was Pori.
She did not have any fear, confusion, only a sort of burning hatred for bawdy idiots. Twincha’s appearance was then more blurred and obscure.
Let it go.
They met again at the hill fair far away.
An earthen chhilim was in Seraj’s hand, and it was ornamented.
Auronga bought a knife to skins the snakes.
Pale-colored wooden dolls and a necklace of glass beads were in Pori’s hands.
Seraj watched the circus show. Pori heard about the spider girl. Auronga threw some coins on the gambling board.
Seraj felt the urge to return home for putting some tobacco into the new chhilim.
Pori was much excited about everything there and Auronga desired her close.
They ate pumpkin borra together and in Auronga’s eyes, Pori was a bit quieter. The chaos subsided gradually.
Seraj bought eggplants on the way. Auronga set for the north. Once he arrived in Kerala, which he saw abounded with wriggling snakes like ochre in the mines. 2, 4, 7, 16, 28 – Auronga counted the snakes, skinned them and knew all the price rates. He felt suddenly curious about one remaining person at Bongaon, abrupt. Another face a little obscure before Auronga wailed Hai Hossen Hai Hassan in Muharram, pierced his breast with knives, and puked excrement at death and mother thought it was the curse for usury. Auronga came up to this part to purge the curse and to get away from the blood. Seraj bore a curse like the dead man as well. A long career of hijacking of the muzzle loader. Somewhere and misdeeds brought him the nerve at the very end of some night Auronga lost himself in the greedy taste of blood during a combat.
His abode was the old temple of that locality. It was broken but carried nobility. The thought came there. All of a sudden these thoughts he had were torn apart and stumbled in front. Out of a moment emerged Twincha, the floating man who was standing in front. He cautioned Auronga who hesitated a bit in the presence of Twincha or him, and of Pori after all, and who left a Seraj in a whirlpool of forgiveness.
The wind shrieked all around at the night of Maghi full moon The moonlight brimmed over the earth. Pori missed coherence of the things Seraj gleaned from the crowd on his way home before dusk. Pori said, ‘Durga limps, something might happen to her. Seraj nonchalant– tomorrow was his limit, a long account of living, loss and profit wasn’t his way. Durga brought his luck, she could take it away; how worse could she make, after all?
‘Radio-battery is finished.’
‘Tomorrow I’ll fetch another. Next time put more chilies in your beef curry.’
‘Ok.’
‘What are you thinking about, alone? Your mother had it, the habit of drooping all the day. Listen, I shall give up this line; I can’t trust people.
‘Look for some other job.’
For moments both kept silent.
‘Your marriage is the only headache.’
‘What’s written on my forehead must happen certainly,’ said Pori with heat in her voice.
‘How long do you think should we be in this foreign land?”
‘Much of your babbling disgusts me,’ said Pori and then she turned to the window. Maddened fireflies were clamouring outside. Stillness hang over the mahogany trees, invisible. Pori thought she would see something but it was nothing but darkness. Only esme azm on the thumbnail. Pori recited Sura Yasin thirteen times and colored her nails in betel juice. Dead at night, on the bed the manifestation of the esme azm began. Pori witnessed the wary figures were careful of their feet entangled in shrubs on the way. Auronga stepped cautiously. Torch in his left hand, he wore torn gum-boots. He gasped and who knew what he was searching for. Pori lay appeared on her nails. She saw in the moonlight that trees and hills on her side, suddenly bent in sejda. Dark tea colored cubes came down flying in front. Cried Twincha. ‘O God, turn me into a genius. Twincha lost his calm. May your manifestation marvel!’ Pori, petrified Pori, couldn’t move her eyes from the nails. Not for a moment. Twincha waited her reply. And then the answer came through hills and the mees, over the sea, suddenly bursting out of the world’s grave solemnity in a much louder voice on the air…
Pori lay on her right: Auronga knocked over the rock and could not his twisted kneecap a bit straight. He shrieked in pain. Blood conglomerated all over his face. There was not yet a change of events etched out on the continuum of moments…in the folds of darkness and light Pori saw the shirt of Seraj, so wrinkled it sopped on his body. Just because of the shirt being orange, Seraj bought it at a high price last autumn. If one looked at the crowd on the footpath, leaving aside the horns of vehicles, he would see Seraj’s face swelled, eyebrows cut. Three or four cruelest guys thrashed him bitterly: ‘Liar, cheat, scoundrel’ – it was Durga then, “Take this for stew.’
Pori was so terrified that sweat ran all over her body. She refused to see anything anymore. Neck aside, Durga went deeper into sleep in her wire cage lying at the door; Seraj asleep in certainty, too. Sleepless all night, Pori came down from her bed and opened the door to the wind. The sun would be out in a few minutes. Any dream in the last hour of night will certainly come true – mother said. The memory turned on a gust of the cold wind that momentarily went through her body and cooled her. She wished the foreboding revelations on her nails would not be true at the present. For a little while, Pori thought of how many autumns and how many monsoons, Seraj, Twincha, Auronga or Pori herself would have to walk to cross the cycle of fate if everything was to be good in the end. And then she found herself on the enormous wave that threw her on to the peak of a colossal mountain; there lies the ultimate human truth in its extremity. Pori returned to the moment, just before the sun was out: in this room, she found herself in Auronga’s embrace. That day water flowed down from the mountain peaks. On the clay-smeared floor, Pori etched with her hairclip Auronga’s shirt, his cars and nose – the plethora of numerous desires. That afternoon Auronga drifted on fire, and making that embrace a bit longer, Pori took shelter in his bosom and found a strange security far away from Seraj’s fiery blood-red eyes. Durga started off twittering from inside so the wings of memory lay broken on Pori’s eyes. Her eye caught the a blunt knife. Porn undue growth of the shrubs trimmed down by rummaged the whole earth for something she broke into pieces, and then joined the pieces; and her eye focused on the crystal point. At that time out of their house, Auronga started off to the town breaking through the heavy fog Pori noticed this and got startled at that Auronga was kind of limping. Last evening she saw him quite all right Then at the time of coming and going, she watched Auronga mute and embarrassed. Whether he was that much strong like before was not quite understood. To the south of trepidation, a whirl of ivory-white fog jumped over his body. Pori’s sharp and far-sighted eye saw the whirl just breaking. Faraway it was the point of dusk: Auronga was going across the ominous mountain by leaving his steps in its crevices. Pori stared over the towering trees listlessly for a longer time as the morning deepened. Then all of a sudden a question surged from within her, ‘If Auronga leaves for Kerala some day…’
Just after that, Pori became self-restrained, ‘No.’ She calmed after thinking of this, ‘Twincha will certainly bring him back.’
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