The chase....Part 3 of Virtually possible

The chase ..

“Where is Soumya?” agitated Babulal shouted at Anil in his drawing room at Lansdown.

Anil and Sunil both were taken aback by the news and made it clear to Samaranand and Babulal that they had no clue about what they were talking. Anil informed that Soumaya left their house 2 days back in the evening and after that there was no contact.

Samaranand and Babulal when found Soumaya had vanished then they decided to return to Kolkata by the same Santiniketan Express on the same day and confront Anil and Sunil next day. They had a lingering doubt that these people were involved in Soumaya going missing. They had planned to go to police first but dropped the idea as they have taken big money and which was in cash, hence confronting the Maity brothers was the next move.

Reluctantly they left Maity house threatening to come back if Soumaya was not found in the meanwhile.

They found pagli camping near the gate, Babula got down from the car and gave some instruction.

In the evening Babulal rang up Samaranand from a public booth to inform Samaranand about the discussion which took place between the brothers after they left, this he could get from the recording device which was there with Pagli, the bugs were still there in the drawing room of Maity’s.Both the brothers were scared about a third person who had been pressurizing them for the details about Soumaya’s whereabouts. Genuinely they had no clue about Soumaya going missing.

They decided to wait for a few days and not to meet each other.

As usual Samaranand’s routine of morning walk, painting, office continued. Out of the two beggars patronized by Samaranand only Sambhu alone on the pavement as pagli was stationed in Lansdown.

Finally there was some indication of Soumaya. It happened like this after a few days when Samaranand after finishing his walk was giving 5 rupee coin to Sambhu, the beggar then Sambhu passed on a slip of paper to him. After getting in the car eagerly he spread the slip of paper. It was short note from Soumaya.

Uncle,

Sorry that I put both of you in distress. I had to vanish, will share details with you when we meet. Please visit the same café in the evening where you with your friends went after finishing your studies in IIT.

Soumaya

Samaranad started recalling the restaurants he visited after his final exams before proceeding for Delhi, he recalled that he had shared his rendezvous with various restaurants with Babulal and Soumaya. His choice of restaurants was limited those days and that too after passing out he stayed just for two days in Kolkata before proceeding for Delhi. He remembered to have gone to Anadi’s cabin and Trincas on Park Street. So next two days he went to Anadi’’s cabin, there was no sign of Soumaya, as usual Anadi was choke a block full and he had his favourite dish of Moghlai Paratha. He had informed Babulal about the letter and asked him to follow him clandestinely. There was no sign of Soumaya. He instructed Babulal to keep watch on Anadi’s and he himself went to Trincas next day evening. It was just filling up with customers returning from office, who would just take a quick swig and then leave for the house. The live music was going on; crooner was singing some fast new Hindi songs with the band. He selected a corner table with four chairs and ordered Carlsberg Beer and a chelo kabab. He scanned the people who were dinning, there was no trace of Soumaya. Slowly the restaurant was getting filled, he knew by the dinner time it would be full. Suddenly he felt there is change in the tempo of the music. The crooner started singing old Hindi songs and mostly from the movies of Devanand. Samaranad became alert and was sure Soumaya was somewhere near because he only knew he loved movies of Devanand, somehow Soumaya has influenced the band to play Samaranand’s favorite songs.. Without drawing any attention, he casually looked at the faces of the guests around. After a few songs he headed for toilet to relieved himself when a guy followed him. From the corner of his eyes he measured the guy, a young fellow in office going dress of brown corduroy pant and blue blazer. He thought to himself whether that guy was following him and in that case Soumaya would not come. He sauntered back to his table, lifted the bottle to pour when he found a letter below the bottle. He palmed the letter to his jacket pocket and nonchalantly went on eating and drinking. He paid the bill and walked off.

After returning home he read the letter.

It was a short letter.

Uncle,

Sorry could not make contact with you, there was a guy following you. Very soon I will get in touch with you. Don’t worry I am fine, will explain everything when we meet.

Soumaya

Samaranand was relieved that Soumaya was fine but he was worried about Soumaya’s safety.He thought that once again the game of shadowing him had started, the thought did disturb him but then he thought once again those unknown followers would contact him.

From whom Soumaya was hiding and why?

My friend Dev D

My friend Dev D

………………………

“I am also from Delhi,” Mrs. M informed me smilingly. She was a healthy lady in her late forties. We were having tea in my office colleague M’s flat in Vasant Kunj, Delhi. My flight to Calcutta was delayed so M took me to his flat to spend the intervening time.

When Mrs.M came to know that  I am originally  from Delhi then she informed me that she was also from Delhi.

I got curious and inquired, “Where did you stay in Delhi?”

“We were in those bungalows behind teacher’s quarter in Gole Market.”

Her above statement made me sit up and look at her closely. I was in my early fifties then and she was in late forties and also has put on weight, I was trying to find that smart girl in skirt whom I first saw on a swing in their garden. This happened when I was in school, possibly in class nine. I had gone to her house with my friend Durga. Durga used to blow away the school fees and she being his love interest used to make up for the shortfall. The visit of Durga was to collect money from her and also let out the secret to me about her being his girlfriend. Durga’s house was in the teacher’s quarter just behind her dad’s official bungalow.

Let me first confess that Durga was some kind of hero in our eyes and also he was one of my closest friends. Those days we were all fan of Devanand, for us Durga was our Devanand. His hair style was like that of Devanand puffed up and all ,his stances were like the hero, even he would dress up like Devanand. He would not miss any movie of Devanand. He had numerous female admirers because of his smart look. His mother was a teacher of a nearby government run public school for girls, we knew about girls going to his house on the pretext of meeting his mother and in turn meet the local Devanand but at no time he let us know that his real love interest was staying behind his house. That kindly chubby lady sitting in front of me that day in Vasant Kunj was that cute girl in her teens swinging merrily in the garden in late nineteen fifties.

While we would be playing football Durga would often bring his friend Zindi with him. He was another care free chap. Those two will keep us rollicking while narrating their recent adventures. Durga was a great bluffer so he was also known as Gulbaj(that's Bengali word for bluffer) Durga in our friends’ circle. In the class Durga would sit next to me and copy my notes. Most of the time he was flushed with money; often he would go out of the class with the pretext of going to the toilet , would come back with pocketful of peanuts and gathia. When we were busy in solving sum he would be busy eating those, he usually shared those with me too. I also gladly accepted his bribes in exchange of allowing him to copy the sums solved by me. Later on I came to know that all those money was from that girl who was staying behind his house...…cut to present, the middle aged lady sitting in front of me in Vasant Kunj.

He failed in class nine and thus could no longer sit next to me. Though he was not in my class but he would come every day to chit chat with me in our play field in chummeries where we were staying those days  which was close to his house in Gole Market.

I passed out and went to IIT, he somehow managed to pass higher secondary and did some kind of private course and became lab assistant in Cambridge School, Delhi.

Whenever I was in Delhi I would meet him in Kalibari of Gole Market. By that time they had shifted from the teacher’s quarter to a government flat on Reading Road near our school, Raisina Bengali. In the meanwhile we had shifted to Wilson Square which was very close to Birla Mandir, now of course those squares are no longer there.

I was told that he was a regular in Kalibari as he was addicted to three cards or was a gambler; he also boasted to me how he was making a tidy sum through gambling. He was much more matured than all of us, he had a steady girlfriend whereas we could not think beyond our studies, and he took to smoking, drinking, gambling much before we could dare to think about those in sixties.

That year I had come for Durga Puja in Delhi from Barauni refinery of IOC where I was posted then, it was sometimes in late sixties. He took me to his house and told me that he was planning to hitch hike to Europe. He showed me a map and elaborated his travel plan. The route was full of danger, he wanted to hitch hike through Khyber Pass to Afghanistan and from there find a way to reach Europe. He showed me his passport to convince me as I was laughing at his foolhardy plan. We used to kid each other a lot so I thought that this was one of his pranks which he was trying to pull on me. I wished him luck and left.

On my next visit I was told that he had left India , had reached Germany, so he was not bluffing about his hitch hike plan to Europe, i felt bad that i was doubting his intent.

After that many years had passed, I had gone to Delhi in 1973 for my first Durga Puja after my marriage and was visiting Kalibari to offer puja with my wife. My mother called someone from a tea stall and said to me , “Can you recognize him?”

A big fat fellow came out of the stall and hugged me tightly and said, “Somu, it has been years since we last met.”

Oh my god it was Durga, he had a French beard and weighing more than 100 kgs whereas I was still below 70kgs. If he would have passed by me in the road I would not have recognized him, it was completely a changed Durga in all respects. I was trying to find out our Devanand in that fat Durga, the real Devanand on the screen was still fit as a fiddle . He called out for someone in the tea stall, a foreign lady came out. She was introduced as his girlfriend and he informed us that he was going to marry her. She was a German lady. I introduced my wife to him and told her about his exploits.

Those days any one going to foreign meant he was minting money.

“You must be earning a good sum there in Germany.” I asked.

“No yar, I am just a worker. There are about 1000 Indians in Germany and I might be the one getting the lowest.”

“Did you see Munich Olympic?” In 1972 the Olympic was held in Munich, there was massacre of players from Israel by Palestinians.

“I was there but not watching the Olympic but breaking ice.” He gave a loud laugh and with that laugh I could get back my old friend Dev D where D stands for Durga.

That was our last meeting….he must have settled there with kids and all. His first love was married to my office colleague and well settled with a college going daughter in 1999.

At the Delhi airport I looked at me closely in the glass and found a man with 38 waist and a receding hair line staring back at me. But those moments in Vasant Kunj transported me back to my school days when I had hardly any pocket money but there was a satisfied complete life with my friends, parents and my relatives. Many of them are no more there. But a chance meeting like this brings back those good old memories and gives a chance to live through those past happy days.