PROSE GAMES AT TWILIGHT

Anita Desai

Life and Works

Anita Desai was born June 24, 1937 in India to a German mother and an Indian father. Although she now resides in South Hadley, Massachusetts, teaching writing at Mount Holyoke College, she is a member of the Advisory Board for English in New Delhi. Desai writes in English, saying, “I first learned English when I went to school. It was the first language that I learned to read and write, so it became my literary language. Languages tend to proliferate around one in India, and one tends to pick up and use whatever is at hand. It makes one realise each language has its own distinct genius.” Her family spoke German at home and Hindi to their friends.

Desai’s work is part of a new style of writing to come out of India which is not nearly as conservative as Indian writing has been in the past. One concern that is part of her work, especially the novel Baum gartner’s Bombay, is that about foreignness and dividedness. Desai grew up during World War II and could see the anxiety her German mother was experiencing about the situation and her family in Germany. After the war when she realised the Germany she had known was devastated, hei mother never returned there, nor had any desire to return. Anita herself did not visit until she was an adult.

Indian novelist and short story writer especially noted for her sensitive portrayal of the inner life of her female characters. Several of Desai’s novels explore tensions between family members and the alienation of middle-class women. In her later novels Desai has dealt with such themes as German anti-Semitism, the demise of traditions, and Western stereotypical views of India.

“Even though his cigarette stank - it was a local one, wrapped in a tendu leaf, fierce enough to make his head swim - he could smell the distinctive Indian odour - of dung, both of cattle and men, of smoke from the village hearts, of cattle food and cattle urine, of dust, of pungent food cooking, of old ragged clothes washed without soap and put out to dry, the aroma of poverty.” (From Baurngartner’s Bombay, 1988)

Anita Desai was born in Mussoorie, a hill station north of Delhi, as the daughter of a D.N. Mazumdar, a Bengali businessman, and the former Toni Nime, of German origin. She began to write in English at the age of seven, and published her first story at the age of nine. Desai was educated in Delhi at Queen Mary’s Higher Secondary School and Miranda House, Delhi University, where she received in 1957 a B.A. in English literature, In the following year she married Ashvin Desai, a businessman; they had four children.

As a novelist Desai made her debut in 1963 with The Peacock. She had started to write short stories regularly before her marriage. The Peacock was published in Britain by Peter Owen, a publisher specializing in literature of the British Commonwealth and continental Europe. In was followed by Voices of the City (1965), a story about three siblings, Amla, Nirode, and Monisha, and their different ways of life in Calcutta. Amla sees the city as a monster, Nirode sacrifices everything for her career, and Monisha cannot bear her stifling existence in the household of a wealthy old Calcutta family. Fire on the Mountain (1977), set in Kasuli, a hill station. focused on three women and their complex experiences in life.

“‘No one, said Bim, slowly and precisely, ‘comprehends b than children do. No one feels the atmosphere more keenly

catches the nuances, all the insinuations in the air - or notes those details that escape elders because their senses have atrophied, or calcified.’“(From Clear Light of Day, 1980)

In Clear Light of Day (1980) Desai wove the history of Delhi with a middle- class Hindu family. The central character is Bim (short for Bimla) Das, a history professor, an independent woman. Bim’s memories of the family past dominate her sterile existence, she feels betrayed by her unambitious sister Tara, and replays her memories in the decaying family mansion in Old Delhi. Their mentally retarded brother-in-law, Bakul-bhai, plays old records. Tara do not understand why Bim doesn’t want anything to change, when she rejects the hopeless atmosphere of the house. “It seemed to her that the dullness and the boredom of her childhood, her youth, were stored here in the room under the worn dusty red rugs, in the bloated brassware, amongst the dried grasses in the swollen vases, behind the yellowed photographs in the oval frathis were the storeroom of some dull, uninviting provincial museum.” The summer of 1947 has divided the nation and the family

Hindus and Muslims are torn apart by Partition. Through Tara’s and Bim’s consciousness Desai examines the same events from different points of views.

The author’s characters in many novels are members of the Anglicised Indian bourgeoisie, whose marital problems are in the forefront. In Desai’s work, her characters have adopted often escapist ways to cope with the boring everyday life or world outside comfortable living. In Where Shall We Go This Summer? (i) Sita, pregnant with her fifth child, takes refuge from her marriage on the magical island homestead of her deceased father. Nanda Kaul in Fire on the Mountain withdraws into a private world of self-willed isolation. Desai has commented on her work: “My novels are no reflection of Indian society, politics or character. They are my private attempt to seize upon the raw material of life.” In the mid-198os Desai started to look more closely the life of the unprivileged. In Custody (1984) is Desai’s ironic story about literary traditions and academic illusions. The central characters are Nur, an Urdu poet, who has fallen on hard times, and Deven, a professor of Hindi, who realizes that the beloved poet is not the magical genius he has imagined.

The author’s own German half of the parental heritage is in the background of Baum gartner’s Bombay (1988) - Desai’s first language was German. In the story a retired Jewish businessman has escaped in his youth the Nazis to India and stayed there in poverty, taking care of stray cats. “His eyes were short- sighted and blinked half-shut against the glare that thrust itself in at the door and so he did not notice that watchman’s expression as he passed him on his perch under the wooden board that bore the tenants’ names - Hiramani, Taraporevala, Barodekar, Coelho, da Silva, Patel - mumbled Good morning, salaam, and went down the steps into the street with his bag, uncertain as ever of which language to employ. After fifty years, still uncertain, Baumgartner, du Dummkopf.” A German hippie enters Baumgartner’s life and his reclusive existence is shattered. In both of these books Desai has given her answer to critics, who have concluded that her characters are usually westernised middle- class professionals and therefore their problems are more close to those of Western readers than to majority of Indian people. In Journey to Ithaca (1995) Desai examined the nature of pilgrimage to India through three characters - Mateo and Sophie, young Europeans, and Mother, a charismatic and mysterious woman, whose story is an earlier version of their own. Desai’s perspective on India is more European than in his earlier works.

F-28mes - everything, everything that she had so hated as a child and that was still preserved here as ifFasting, Feasting (1999) contrasted American and Indian culture, and male and female roles. Arun studies in Massachusetts, his sister Uma lives in India in a small provincial city. Uma lives with her parent whom she calls MamaPapa. “It was hard to believe they had ever had separate existence, that they had been separate entities and not MamaPapa in one breath... MamaPapa themselves rarely spoke of a time when they were not one. The few anecdotes they related separately acquired great significance because of their rarity, their singularity.” Uma’s attempts to leave home and marry create a disaster. The novel was a finalist for the 1999 Booker Prize.

“Poor Raman was placed in one of the lower ranks of the companies’s hierarchy. That is, he did not belong to a British concern, or even to an American-collaboration one, but merely to an Indian one. Oh, a long- established, prosperous and solid one but, still, only Indian. Those cigarettes that he passed around were made by his own company. Somehow it struck a note of bad taste amongst these fastidious men who played golf, danced at the club on Independence Eve and New Year’s Eve, invited at least one foreign couple to every party and called their decorative wives ‘darling’ when in public.” (From ‘The Farewell Party’ in Games at Twilight, 1978)

Since the 19505 Desai has lived in New Delhi, Calcutta, Bombay, and other Indian cities. She has been a member of the Advisory Board for English of the National Academy of Letters in Delhi and a Member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters. She has taught at Girton College and Smith College in England, and at Mount Holyoke College in the United States. In 1993 she became a creative writing teacher at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. She has spent there for one semester each year and the rest of her time in India. Desai is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in London. She received the Guardian Award for Children’s Fiction for the novel The Village by the Sea (1982), and the 1978 National Academy of Letters Award for Fire on the Mountain.

Games at Twilight

It was still too hot to play outdoors. They had had their tea, they had been washed and had their hair brushed, and after the long day of confinement in the house that was not cool but at least a protection from the sun, the children strained to get out. Their faces were red and bloated with the effort, but their mother would not open the door, everything was still curtained and shuttered in a way that stifled the children, made them feel that their lungs were stuffed with cotton wool and their noses with dust and if they didn’t burst out into the light and see the sun and feel the air, they would choke.

‘Please, ma, please,’ they begged. ‘We’ll play in the veranda and porch—we won’t go a step out of the porch.’

‘You will, I know you will, and then—’

‘No—we won’t, we won’t,’ they wailed so horrendously that she actually let down the bolt of the front door so that they burst out like seeds from a crackling, over-ripe pod into the veranda, with such wild, maniacal yells that she retreated to her bath and the shower of talcum powder and the fresh sari that were to help her face the summer evening.

They faced the afternoon. It was too hot. Too bright. The white walls of the veranda glared ridently in the sun. The bougainvillea hung about it, purple and magenta, in livid balloons. The garden outside was like a tray made of beaten brass, flattened Out Ofl the red gravel and the stony soil in all shades of metal—aluminium, tin, copper and brass. No life stirred at this arid time of day—the birds still drooped, like dead fruit, in the papery tents of the trees; some squirrels lay limp on the wet earth under the garden tap. The outdoor dog lay stretched as if dead on the veranda mat, his paws and ears and tail all reaching out like dying travellers in search of water. He rolled his eyes at the children—two white marbles rolling in the purple sockets, begging for sympathy—and attempted to lift his tail in a wag but could not. It only twitched and lay still.

Then, perhaps roused by the shrieks of the children, a band of parrots suddenly fell Out of the eucalyptus tree, tumbled frantically in the still, sizzling air, then sorted themselves out into battle formation and streaked away across the white sky.

The children, too, felt released. They too began tumbling, shoving, pushing against each other, frantic to start. Start what? Start their business. The business of the children’s day which is—play.

‘Let’s play hide-and-seek.

’‘Who’ll be It?’

‘You be It.’

‘Why should I? You be—’

‘You’re the eldest—’

‘That doesn’t mean—’

The shoves became harder. Some kicked out. The motherly Mira intervened. She pulled the boys roughly apart. There was a tearing sound of cloth but it was lost in the heavy panting and angry grumbling and no one paid attention to the small sleeve hanging loosely off a shoulder.

‘Make a circle, make a circle!’ she shouted, firmly pulling and pushing till a kind of vague circle was formed. ‘Now clap!’ she roared and, clapping, they all chanted in melancholy unison: ‘Dip, dip, dip—my blue ship—’ and every now and then one or the other saw he was safe by the way his hands fell at the crucial moment—palm on palm, or back of hand on palm—and dropped out of the cirde with a yell and a jump of relief and jubilation.

Raghu was It. He started to protest, to cry ‘You cheated—Mira cheated—Anu cheated—’ but it was too late, the others had all already streaked away. There was no one to hear when he called out, ‘Only-in the veranda—the porch—Ma said—Ma said to stay in the porch!’ No one had stopped to listen, all he saw were their brown legs flashing through the dusty shrubs, scrambling up brick walls, leaping over compost heaps and hedges, and then the porch stood empty in the purple shade of the bougainvillea and the garden was as empty as before; even the limp squirrels had whisked away, leaving everything gleaming, brassy and bare.

Only small Manu suddenly reappeared, as if he had dropped out of an invisible cloud or from a bird’s claws, and stood for a moment in the centre of the yellow lawn, chewing his finger and near to tears as he heard Raghu shouting, with his head pressed against the veranda wall, ‘Eighty-three, eighty-five, eighty-nine, ninety. .‘ and then made off in a panic, half of him wanting to fly north, the other half counselling south. Raghu turned just in time to see the flash of his white shorts and the uncertain skittering of his red sandals, and charged after him with such a blood—curdling yell that Manu stumbled over the hosepipe, fell into its rubber coils and lay there weeping, ‘I won’t be It—you have to find them all—all—All!’

‘I know I have to, idiot,’ Raghu said, superciliously kicking him with his toe. ‘You’re dead,’ he said with satisfaction, licking the beads of perspiration off his upper lip, and then stalked off in search of worthier prey, whistling spiritedly so that the hiders should hear and tremble.

Ravi heard the whistling and picked his nose in a panic, trying to find comfort by burrowing the finger deep—deep into that soft tunnel. He felt himself too exposed, sitting on an upturned flower pot behind the garage. Where could he burrow? He could run around the garage if he heard Raghu come—around and around and around—but he hadn’t much faith in his short legs when matched against Raghu’s long, hefty, hairy footballer legs. Ravi had a frightening limpse of them as Raghu combed the hedge of crotons and hibiscus, trampling delicate ferns underfoot as he did so. Ravi looked about him desperately, swallowing a small ball of snot in his fear.

The garage was locked with a great heavy lock to which the driver had the key in his room, hanging from a nail on the wall under his work-shirt. Ravi had peeped in and seen him still sprawling on his string-cot in his vest and striped underpants, the hair on his chest and the hair in his nose shaking with the vibrations of his phlegm- obstructed snores. Ravi had wished he were tall enough, big enough to reach the key on the nail, but it was impossible, beyond his reach for years to come. He had sidled away and Sat dejectedly on the flower pot. That at least was cut to his own size.

But next to the garage was another shed with a big green door. Also locked. No one even knew who had the key to the lock. That shed wasn’t opened more than once a year when Ma turned out all the old broken bits of furniture and rolls of matting and leaking buckets, and the white ant hills were broken and swept away and Flit sprayed into the spider webs and rat holes so that the whole operation was like the looting of a poor, ruined and conquered city. The green leaves of the door sagged. They were nearly off their rusty hinges. The hinges were large and made a small gap between the door and the walls— only just large enough for rats, dogs and, possibly, Ravi to slip through.

Ravi had never cared to enter such a dark and depressing mortuary of defunct household goods seething with such unspeakable and alarming animal life but, as Raghu’s whistling grew angrier and sharper and his crashing and storming in the hedge wilder, Ravi suddenly slipped off the flower pot and through the crack and was gone. He chuckled aloud with astonishment at his own temerity so that Raghu came out of the hedge, stood silent with his hands on his hips, listening, and finally shouted ‘I heard you! I’m coming! Got you—’ and came charging round the garage only to find the upturned flower pot, the yellow dust, the crawling of white ants in a mud-hill against the closed shed door—nothing. Snarling, he bent to pick up a stick and went off, whacking it against the garage and shed walls as if to beat out his prey.

Ravi shook, then shivered with delight, with self- congratulation. Also with fear. It was dark, spooky in the shed. It had a muffled smell, as of graves. Ravi had once got locked into the linen cupboard and sat there weeping for half an hour before he was rescued. But at least that had been a familiar place, and even smelt pleasantly of starch, laundry and, reassuringly, of his mother. But the shed smelt of rats, ant hills, dust and spider webs. Also of less definable, less recognizable horrors. And it was dark. Except for the white-hot cracks along the door, there was no light. The roof was very low. Although Ravi was small, he felt as if he could reach up and touch it with his finger tips. But he didn’t stretch. He hunched himself into a ball so as not to bump into anything, touch or feel anything. What might there not be to touch him and feel him as he stood there, trying to see in the dark? Something cold, or slimy—like a snake. Snakes! He leapt up as Raghu whacked the wall with his stick—then, quickly realizing what it was, felt almost relieved to hear Raghu, hear his stick. It made him feel protected.

But Raghu soon moved away. There wasn’t a sound once his footsteps had gone around the garage and disappeared. Ravi stood frozen inside rhe shed. Then he shivered all over. Something had tickled the back of his neck. It took him a while to pick up the courage to lift his hand and explore. It was an insect—perhaps a spider— exploring him. He squashed it and wondered how many more creatures were watching him, waiting to reach out and touch him, the stranger.

There was nothing now. After standing in that position—his hand still on his neck, feeling the wet splodge of the squashed spider gradually dry—for minutes, hours, his legs began to tremble with the effort, the inaction. By now he could see enough in the dark to make out the large solid shapes of old wardrobes, broken buckets and bedsteads piled on top of each other around him. He recognized an old bathtub—patches of enamel glimmered at him and at last he lowered himself onto its edge.

He contemplated slipping out of the shed and into the fray. He wondered if it would not be better to be captured by Raghu and be returned to the millizig crowd as long as he could be in the sun, the light, the free spaces of the garden and the familiarity of his brothers, sisters and cousins. It would be evening soon. Their games would become legitimate. The parents would sit out on the lawn on cane basket chairs and watch them as they tore around the garden or gathered in knots to share a loot of mulberries or black, teeth-splitting jam un from the garden trees. The gardener would fix the hosepipe to the water tap and water would fall lavishly through the air to the ground, soaking the dry yellow grass and the red gravel and arousing the sweet, the intoxicating scent of water on dry earth—that loveliest scent in the world. Ravi sniffed for a whiff of it. He half-rose from the bathtub, then heard the despairing scream of one of the girls as Raghu bore down upon her. There was the sound of a crash, and of rolling about in the bushes, the shrubs, then screams and accusing sobs of, ‘I touched the den—’‘You did not—’‘I did—’‘You liar, you did not’ and then a fading away and silence again.

Ravi sat back on the harsh edge of the tub, deciding to hold out a bit longer. What fun if they were all found and caught—he alone left unconquered! He had never known that sensation. Nothing more wonderful had ever happened to him than being taken out by an uncle and bought a whole slab of chocolate all to himself, or being flung into the soda-man’s pony cart and driven up to the gate by the friendly driver with the red beard and pointed ears. To defeat Raghu—that hirsute, hoarse-voiced football champion and to be the winner in a circle of older, bigger, luckier children—that would be thrilling beyond imagination. He hugged his knees together and smiled to himself almost shyly at the thought of so much victory, such laurels.

There he sat smiling, knocking his heels against the bathtub, now and then getting up and going to the door to put his ear to the broad crack and listening for sounds of the game, the pursuer and the pursued, and then returning to his seat with the dogged determination of the true winner, a breaker of records, a champion.

It grew darker in the shed as the light at the door grew softer, fuzzier, turned to a kind of crumbling yellow pollen that turned to yellow fur, blue fur, grey fur. Evening. Twilight. The sound of water gushing, falling. The scent of earth receiving water, slaking its thirst in great gulps and releasing that green scent of freshness, coolness. Through the crack Ravi saw the long purple shadows of the shed and the garage lying still across the yard. Beyond that, the white walls of the house. The bougainvillea had lost its lividity, hung in dark bundles that quaked and twittered and seethed with masses of homing sparrows. The lawn was shut off from his view. Could he hear the children’s voices? It seemed to him that he could. It seemed to him that he could hear them chanting, singing, laughing. But what about the game? What had happened? Could it be over? How could it when he was still not found?

It then occurred to him that he could have slipped out long ago, dashed across the yard to the veranda and touched the ‘den’. It was necessary to do that to win. He had forgotten. He had only remembered the part of hiding and trying to elude the seeker. He had done that so successfully, his success had occupied him so wholly that he had quite forgotten that success had to be clinched by that final dash to victory and the ringing cry of ‘Den!’ With a whimper he burst through the crack, fell on his knees, got up and stumbled on stiff, benumbed legs across the shadowy yard, crying heartily by the time he reached the veranda so that when he flung himself at the white pillar and bawled, ‘Den! Den! Den!’ his voice broke with rage and pity at the disgrace of it all and he felt himself flooded with tears and misery.

Out on the lawn, the children stopped chanting. They all turned to stare at him in amazement. Their faces were pale and triangular in the dusk. The trees and bushes around them stood inky and sepulchral, spilling long shadows across them. They stared, wondering at his reappearance, his passion, his wild animal howling. Their mother rose from her basket chair and came towards him, worried, annoyed, saying, ‘Stop it, stop it, Ravi. Don’t be a baby. Have you hurt yourself?’ Seeing him attended to, the children went back to clasping their hands and chanting ‘The grass is green, the rose is red

But Ravi would not let them. He tore himself out of his mother’s grasp and pounded across the lawn into their midst, charging at them with his head lowered so that they scattered in surprise. ‘I won, I won, I won,’ he bawled, shaking his head so that the big tears flew. ‘Raghu didn’t find me. I won, I won—’

It took them a minute to grasp what he was saying, even who he was. They had quite forgotten him. Raghu had found all the others long ago. There had been a fight about who was to be It next. It had been so fierce that their mother had emerged from her bath and made them change to another game. Then they had played another and another. Broken mulberries from the tree and eaten them. Helped the driver wash the car when their father returned from work. Helped the gardener water the beds till he roared at them and swore he would complain to their parents. The parents had come out, taken up their positions on the cane chairs. They had begun to play again, sing and chant. All this time no one had remembered Ravi. Having disappeared from the scene, he had disappeared from their minds. Clean.

‘Don’t be a fool,’ Raghu said roughly, pushing him aside, and even Mira said, ‘Stop howling, Ravi. If you want to play, you can stand at the end of the line,’ and she put him there very firmly.

The game proceeded. Two pairs of arms reached up and met in an arc. The children trooped under it again and again in a lugubrious circle, ducking their heads and intoning

‘The grass is green,

The rose is red;

Remember me

When I am dead, dead, dead, dead. .

And the arc of thin arms trembled in the twilight, and the heads were bowed so sadly, and their feet tramped to that melancholy refrain so mournfully, so helplessly, that Ravi could not bear it. He would not follow them, he would not be included in this funereal game. He had wanted victory and triumph—not a funeral. But he had been forgotten, left out and he would not join them now. The ignominy of being forgotten—how could he face it? He felt his heart go heavy and ache inside him unbearably. He lay down full length on the damp grass, crushing his face into it, no longer crying, silenced by a terrible sense of his insignificance.

                                                                   গেমস অ্যাট টুইলাইট

সময়টা এত গরম ছিল যে, বাইরে খেলাধুলা করার কোনো পরিস্থিতি ছিল না। তারা চা পান করল, চুল আচড়াল। সূর্যের কড়া তাপ থেকে রক্ষা পাওয়ার জন্য ছেলেমেয়েরা সরাদিন একটি ঘরে আবদ্ধ ছিল। একসময় ছেলেমেয়েরা ঘর থেকে বের হওয়ার সাথে সাথে বেপরোয়া হয়ে উঠল। তারা অনেক চেষ্টা করে কান্নায় চোখমুখ লাল করেও বাইরে বের হওয়ার অনুমতি পায়নি মার কাছ থেকে। পুরো স্থানটি পর্দা দিয়ে এমনভাবে ঢাকা ছিল যে, যা ছেলেমেয়েদের এক শ্বাসরুদ্ধকর অবস্থায় ফেলে দিয়েছিল। এ কারণে ছেলেমেয়েদের মনে হচ্ছিল যে তাদের হৃদপিণ্ড নরম তুলোর মতো উল দ্বারা বোঝাই, আর নাকের ছিদ্রপথে ধুলোর প্রলেপ। এখন যদি তারা এ আবরণ থেকে মুক্ত হয়ে বাইরে সূর্যালোকে হাজির হয়ে তাজা বাতাস গ্রহণ না করে তাহলে দম বন্ধ হয়ে মারা পড়বে। ছেলেমেয়েগুলো অনুনয় করে বলতে লাগল, মা অনুগ্রহ করে আমাদের কথা শোন, আমরা বারান্দা ছেড়ে বাইরে যাবো না, এখানেই খেলবো। তোমরা অবশ্যই যাবে, আমি জানি তোমরা যাবে এবং তারপর না, আমরা বাইরে যাব না, আমরা যাব না বলে ছেলেমেয়ে গুলো এমনভাবে অনুনয়-বিনয়করতে লাগল যে, শেষে মা সামনের দরোজাটা খুলে দিলেন। এর ফলে ছেলেমেয়েগুলো বীজপাত্র হতে পাকা শস্য কণার ছড়িয়ে পড়ার মতোই উল্লাসে উন্মত্ত হয়ে বারান্দা বরাবর এগিয়ে চললো চিৎকার করতে করতে। অতঃপর মহিলা নিত্যদিনই যেটা করেন, যেমন, হৈ চৈ করে গোসল সমাপ্ত করেন আর গ্রীষ্মের বিকেলে ধোপদুরস্ত শাড়ি পরে প্রচুর পাউডার মাখেন সারা শরীরে।

ওরা বিকেলের মুখোমুখি এখন, সময়টা ছিল খুবই গরম, সূর্যের তাপ ছিল কড়া। বারান্দার সাদা দেয়ালগুলো সূর্যালোকেঝলসে যাচ্ছে। বোগেনবোলিয়ার ঝাড় ঝুলে আছে আবছা লাল আর মেজেন্টা রঙের আভা মেখে ফুসে ওঠা বেলুনের মতো। বাইরের বাগানের দিকটা মনে হচ্ছে পেটানো তামার ট্রের মতো। বাইরের সমতল পাথুরে মৃত্তিকায় এলুমিনিয়াম, টিন, তামা আর ব্রোঞ্জ সকল ধাতুর ছাপ পড়েছে একসাথে। এমন তীব্র দিনে সকল প্রাণস্পন্দন যেন স্তব্ধ, পাখিগুলো যেনবৃক্ষে শুকিয়ে যাওয়া ফলের মতোই প্রাণহীন বৃক্ষপত্রে ঢাকা তাবুর আশ্রয়ে। কিছু কিছু কাঠবিড়ালি খুঁড়িয়ে খুঁড়িয়ে আসে বাগানের জলের কলের নিচের ভেজা মাটিতে নিজেদের সিক্ত করে নিতে। বাইরের বারান্দার পাপোষে কুকুরটা মৃতের মতো পড়ে থাকে। তার থাবা, কান আর লেজ তৃষ্ণার্ত মৃতপ্রায় পথিকের মতো পড়ে থাকে। সে তার সাদা মার্বেলের মতো শিশুসুলভ চোখ দুটো ঘুরিয়ে ঘুরিয়ে অনুকম্পা প্রার্থনা করে আর হঠাৎ করেই লেজটি ঘুরাতে গিয়ে ব্যর্থ হয়। সেটি একটু নড়াচড়া করেই আবার আগের মতো স্থির হয়ে পড়ে থাকে। এরপরই ছেলেমেয়েদের চিৎকারে একঝাক টিয়াইউক্যালিপটাস বৃক্ষের শাখা থেকে উড়াল দিয়ে উষ্ণ হাওয়া কেটে কেটে এগিয়ে চলে। তারপরই পাখিগুলো যুদ্ধক্ষেত্রের মতো। আওয়াজ তুলে সাদা আকাশের একপ্রান্ত থেকে অন্য প্রান্তে ছুটে যায়।

মুক্ত হয়ে ছেলেমেয়েরা মোটামুটি স্বস্তি অনুভব করছে। তারা একে অপরের সাথে লাফঝাপ ধাক্কাধাকি শুরু করেছে। শুরুটা কী? শুরু করেছে তাদের কর্ম। কর্মটা হল বাচ্চাদের দিনব্যাপী খেলা ।

চলো সবাই লুকোচুরি খেলি।

খুঁজবে কে?

তুমি খুঁজবে।

আমি কেন? তুমি কেন নয়?

তুমি সবার বড় তাই--

কিন্তু এটার মানে তো এই নয় যে--

প্রচণ্ড ধাক্কাধাক্কি শুরু হল, কেউ কেউ লাথি মারল, মমতাময়ী মিরা মধ্যস্থতা করতে এলেন, প্রচণ্ড ধাক্কা মেরে তিনি ছেলেমেয়েদের থামালেন। কাপড় চোপড়ের খচমচ শব্দ থেমে গেল কান্নার ফোপানি আর হাপানোর শব্দে, ঘাড়ে যে এক ফালি কাপড় ঝুলছে সেদিকে তখন কারো দৃষ্টি দেয়ার অবকাশ ছিল না।

বৃত্ত রচনা করো, গোল হও, চিৎকার করে ঠেলেলে তিনি ছেলেমেয়েদের নিয়ে বৃত্ত তৈরির চেষ্টা করতে লাগলেন। এবার সবাই হাততালি দাও, নির্দেশ দিয়ে নিজেই হাততালি দেয়া শুরু করতেই ছেলেমেয়েরা সবাই বিষাদভরা কণ্ঠে গাইতে লাগল, ডুবে গেল, ডুবে গেল। আমার নীল তরী.. আর সবাই একে অপরকে দেখছে আর একতালে সবাই হাতের উপর হাত ফেলছে, এরপর তারা লাফ দিয়ে উৎফুল্ল চিত্তে বৃত্ত ভেঙ্গে বের হয়ে এল। রঘু ছিল এদের একজন। হঠাৎ সে প্রতিবাদের সুরে বলতে লাগল, তুমি ফাকি দিয়েছ মিরা, তুমি ফাকি দিয়েছ, কিন্তু এরই মধ্যে সবাই সরে পড়েছে এ কারণে প্রতিবাদ করে কোনো লাভ হল না। সে যখন ডেকে বলছিল, মা বলেছেন, মা বলেছেন, শুধু বারান্দা আর চত্বরে থাকবেকিন্তু এসব শোনার মতো তখন সেখানে কেউ ছিল না, কিন্তু ওর কথা কেউ না শুনে, যে যার ইচ্ছেমতো ছুটল। সে দেখল ধুলোর মধ্যে ঝোপেঝাড়ে ওদের বাদামি পা গুলো প্রতিফলিত হচ্ছে, ওরা দেয়ালের উপর উঠে ওপাশে চলে গেল আর মুহুর্তের মধ্যে বাগানবাড়ি খালি হয়ে গেল। বোগেনবোলিয়ার খয়েরি ছায়া বুকে ধরে বাগানটা আবার নীরব হয়ে গেল। কাঠবিড়ালিগুলোও সরে পড়ল । পুরো স্থানটা এখন নীরব সুনসান ।

শুধু ছোটো মনুকে একবার দেখা গেল, মনে হল অদৃশ্য মেঘের আড়াল হতে সে খসে পড়েছে; কিংবা পাখির নখর থেকে নিচে পড়ে গেছে। কিছুক্ষণের জন্য হলুদাভ লনে সে একটু দাঁড়াল আর নিজের আঙুল কামড়াতে কামড়াতে ওর চোখে জল ভরে এল, রঘুর চিৎকার শোনামাত্রই সে তার মাথা দেয়ালে ঠুকে বলতে থাকল, তিরাশি, পঁচাশি, উননব্বই, নব্বই—

এরপরই সে ভীত হয়ে একবার উত্তর পাশে একবার দক্ষিণ পাশে পালানোর উপায় খুঁজছিল। রঘু হঠাৎ করে ঘুরে দাড়িয়ে মনুর সাদা অবয়ব দেখতে পেয়ে লালরঙা স্কেটিং স্যান্ডেল পরা অবস্থায় রক্তে শিহরণ তোলা মূর্তি নিয়ে তাড়া করল। মনু হোচট খেয়ে হোসপাইপের ওপর উঠতেই সেখান থেকে ধপাস করে রাবার কয়েলের ওপর পড়ে গেল, শুয়ে থেকে কান্নাজড়িত স্বরে বলতে লাগল, আমাকে নয়, অন্য সবাইকে তুমি খুঁজে বার করো।

রঘু পায়ের গোড়ালি দ্বারা মনুকে লাথি মেরে বলল, আমি জানি, তুমি একটা আহাম্মক, তুমি মৃত; তৃপ্তি সহকারে বলল সে, তার উপরের ঠোঁট দ্বারা ঘাম চুষতে চুষতে দ্রুত অন্যদের উদ্দেশ্যে ধাবিত হল খোজ করার জন্য। প্রচণ্ড জোরে সে শিস দেয়া শুরু করল যাতে লুকিয়ে থাকা দল ভয় পেয়ে পায়।

শিস শুনে রবি দ্রুত তার নাক চেপে ধরল এবং টানেলের ফাঁপা দেয়ালে আঙুলের সাহায্যে ডিপ ডিপ শব্দ করতে লাগল। সে বাগানের গ্যারেজে একটি ফুলের টবের আড়ালে নিজেকে লুকিয়ে রেখে নিরাপত্তাহীনতায় ভুগছিল ভীত মনে। কোথায় লুকোবে সে? রঘুর পায়ের আওয়াজ পাওয়ামাত্র সে বড়োজোর গ্যারেজের চারপাশে দৌড়াতে পারবে, কিন্তু সে তার ছোটো ছোটো পা নিয়ে ফুটবল খেলার লোমশ পায়ের বড়ো বড়ো পদক্ষেপের নিকট অবশ্যই হার মানবে, নিজের পায়ের প্রতি বিশ্বাস রাখতে পারছে না। ক্রটন আর হিবিসকাস গাছের জঙ্গল ভেদ করে রঘু যখন ক্রমাগত সামনে এগিয়ে আসছিল রবি তখন ভয়ে তার গলায় আটকে থাকা নাকের শ্লেষ্মা চট করে গিলে ফেলল।

গ্যারেজ ছিল তালাবদ্ধ আর চাবি ছিল ড্রাইভারের হাতে। চাবিটি দেয়ালে রাখা ড্রাইভারের শার্টের পকেটে বুলছিল । রোমশ বুকের অধিকারী রঘুর নাক ঝাড়ার শব্দে রবি উকি দিয়ে দেখল, ডোরাকাটা খাটো একটা প্যান্ট পরে রঘু এখনো দড়ির খাটিয়ার চারপাশে পায়চারি করছে। রবি ভাবল সে যদি কিছুটা বড় এবং শরীরে লম্বা হত তাহলে চাবিটা সহজেই হস্তগত করতে পারত, কিন্তু এর জন্য তাকে আরো অনেক বছর অপেক্ষা করতে হবে। দুঃখভারাক্রান্ত মনে সে তারই সমান উচু প্রায় একটি ফুলের টবের সামনে বসে পড়ল। কিন্তু গ্যারেজের পাশেই একটি চালাঘর ছিল সবুজ রঙের দরজাযুক্ত, এটাও ছিল তালাবদ্ধ, এর চাবি কার কাছে কেউ তা জানে না। এই চালাঘরটি তখনই খোলা হয় যখন ওর মায়ের পুরনো জিনিসপত্র বিশেষ করে ছেড়া মাদুর, পুরনো বালতি এগুলো রাখার প্রয়োজন হয়। সাদা পিপড়ার দঙ্গল, মাকড়সার জাল আর ইদুরের গর্ত সবকিছুকেই ঢেকে দিয়েছে। মনে হচ্ছিল পুরো জায়গাটা কেউ দখল করে লুটপাট করেছে। দরোজার সামনে ঝাঁকে আছে সবুজ পত্রালি, সেগুলো প্রায় দরোজার জং ধরা কব্জার কাছে এসে পড়েছে। দরোজার পাল্লার ফাকা এতটাই ছিল যে, শুধু ইদুর আর কুকুর নয়, রবি নিজেও সহজে এর মধ্যে ঢুকে পড়তে পারে।

এ রকম একটি ভয় জাগানো অন্ধকারাচ্ছন্ন স্থান যেখানে সব জিনিসপত্র বিক্ষিপ্ত অবস্থায় পড়ে আছে, জন্তু জানোয়ারের ভয়জাগানো ভীতি সঞ্চারকারী ঘরে রবি আগে কখনোই ঢোকার চিন্তা করেনি। রঘুর চিৎকার যখন ক্রমেই জোরালো আর তীব্র হয়ে উঠল তখন রবি অকস্মাৎ ফলের টবটা পিছলে পেছনের ফাঁকা জায়গা দিয়ে একেবারে ভেতরে চলে এল । এবার ওর ঠোঁটে একটু মৃদু হাসি খেলে গেল ওর নিজেরই বোকামির জন্য। রঘু নিঃশব্দে এগিয়ে এসে ওর হাত ও কোমর সাপটে ধরে শেষে চিৎকার করে অট্টহাসি হেসে বলল, তোমার শব্দ পেয়েছি, আসছি আমি এইতো পেয়েছি তোমায়। কিন্তু ঝোপজঙ্গল ভেঙে রঘু এখানে এসে উল্টে যাওয়া ফুলের টব, হলুদরঙা ধুলো আর সাদা পিঁপড়ার দঙ্গল ছাড়া কিছুই পেল না। একটি ছোট লাঠি হাতে নিয়ে রঘু গ্যারেজের দেয়ালে জোরে জোরে ঘষতে লাগল যেন শিকার বাইরে বের করে নিয়ে আসতে চাচ্ছে।

রবি খুশিতে আপ্লুত হয়ে পড়ে এবং মনে মনে নিজেকে ধন্যবাদ জানাতে থাকে। এর সাথে আছে ভয়। এটা ছিল পুরো ঢাকা দেয়া ভৌতিক অন্ধকার স্থান যা কবরস্থানের কথা মনে করিয়ে দেয়। রবি একবার লিলেনের আলমারিতে আটকা পড়েছিল। সেখান থেকে উদ্ধার পাওয়ার পূর্বের আধ ঘন্টা তাকে কাঁদতে হয়েছিল, কিন্তু স্থানটি ছিল তার নিত্য পরিচিত।সেখানে ওর মায়ের রাখা মাড় দেয়া কাপড়ের গন্ধের মাঝে ওর মায়ের পরশ মনে করিয়ে দিয়েছিল। কিন্তু এই অন্ধকার ছাউনিটা ধুলোবালি, মাকড়সা আর ইঁদুরের গন্ধে পরিপূর্ণ আর কেমন যেন অদ্ভুত একটা ভৌতিক পরিবেশ বিরাজ করছিল এর ভেতর, অন্ধকার তো আছেই। দরজার ফাকা জায়গা ভেদ করে আসা এক চিলতে সাদা আলো ছাড়া কোনো আলো ছিল না। ছাদটা ছিল খুবই নিচু। রবি ছোটো হলেও তার মনে হল সহজেই সে আঙুল উচিয়ে ছাদটি ছুঁতে পারে। কিন্তু নিজেকে সে সর্বদা জড়োসড়ো করে রাখল আসন্ন বিপর্যয় হতে রক্ষা পাওয়ার জন্য। এমন বিষয় কী আছে যা তাকে স্পর্শ করতে পারে এবং তার উপস্থিতি টের পেতে পারে।

এ অন্ধকারে? ঠাণ্ডা পিছল যা সাপের মতোই কোনো বস্তু । সাপ! আর সে মুহুর্তেই রঘু লাঠি দিয়ে আঘাত করল দেয়ালে আর এ শব্দটিই তার মাঝে কিছুটা নিরাপত্তা এনে দিল । সে রঘুর লাঠির আওয়াজ শুনতে পাচ্ছে। কিন্তু রঘু তাড়াতাড়ি অন্যদিকে চলে গেল, গ্যারেজ পার হওয়ার সাথে সাথে তার পায়ের শব্দও থেমে গেল। চালাঘরের মধ্যে ভয়ে তার শরীরটা শীতল হয়ে গেল। ভয়ে সে কাঁপা শুরু করল, মনে হল কি যেন একটা তার ঘাড়ে সুড়সুড়ি দিচ্ছে সাহস করে রবি একটু মাথা উঁচু করল বিষয়টি কী দেখার জন্য। এটি একটি পোকা, অবশ্যই মাকড়সা। খুঁজে পেয়েছি এটি। সে এটাকে পিষেফেলতেই দেখতে পেল আরো পোকামাকড় তাকে স্পর্শ করার জন্য এগিয়ে আসছে। এখন আর কিছু করার নেই, সে বুঝতে পারল ঘাড়ে হাত দিয়ে পিষে ফেলা মাকড়সার শরীরের রস শুকিয়ে তার গায়ে লেগে গেছে। এরপর বেশ কয়েক মিনিট ধরে সে ভয়ে কাপতে লাগল। এরই মাঝে অন্ধকারে সে দেখতে পেল পুরনো কাঠের ওয়্যারড্রব, ভাঙা বালতি, লাঠি, ছিন্ন বিছানার চাদর সব স্তূপ করে রাখা হয়েছে এ স্থানে। নজরে পড়ল একটি এনামেলের বাথটাব, শেষে ওটার নিচে দিয়ে নিচু হতে চেষ্টা করল।

সে ভালো করে দৃষ্টি নিক্ষেপ করে ভাবল ছাউনির তলা দিয়ে গড়িয়ে যাওয়া যায় কি না। আর এ মূহুর্তে রঘুর হাতে ধরা দেয়া ঠিক হবে কি না এটাও ভাবল। এই অন্ধকার জায়গার চাইতে খোলা হাওয়া, বাইরের রোদ, ভাইবোন ও চাচাতো মামাতো ভাইবোনদের সাথে মিলিত হওয়াটাই অধিক ভালো বলে মনে হল ওর কাছে। আর একটু পরেই বিকেলের ছায়া নামবে।

তখন আর খেলায় কোনো বাধা থাকবে না। মা-বাবা সবাই বেতের চেয়ারে বসে বসে দেখবেন। কীভাবে তাদের ছেলেমেয়েরা ঘোরাফেরা করছে আর দল বেঁধে কীভাবে বাগান থেকে মালবেরি আর জামুন সংগ্রহ করে জড়ো করছে। মালি পানির কলের সাথে পাইপ লাগিয়ে বাগানে জলসেচ দেবে, ভিজে যাবে শুকিয়ে যাওয়া হলুদ ঘাসগুলো আর লাল নুড়িপাথর মেশা মাটিতে পানির স্পর্শে বের হবে সোদা সুগন্ধ, যেন পৃথিবীর শ্রেষ্ঠ সুগন্ধ সেটি। রবি নাক দিয়ে সে সুগন্ধ নেয়ার চেষ্টা করল। বাথটাবে দাড়িয়ে রবি একটি মেয়ের চিকার শুনতে পেল, রঘু তাকে ঘেরাও করেছে, ধুপধাপ শব্দ হচ্ছে আবার, বাগানের ঝোপঝাড়ে গড়াগড়ির শব্দও পাওয়া যাচ্ছে। আবার মাঝে মাঝে ছেলেমেয়েদের চিৎকার আর অভিযোগের শব্দও পাওয়া যাচ্ছে, আমি ঘর ধরেছি, তুমি না আমি, তুমি মিথ্যুক, না এটা তুমি করোনি, এরপর থেমে গেল সব শব্দ আবার নীরবতা।

রবি বাথটাবের অমসৃণ কিনারায় বসে ছিল। কী মজা! সবাই যদিও ধরা পড়েছে, শুধু একমাত্র সে এখনো ধরা পড়েনি। এমন অনুভব তার মাঝে আর কখনো জাগেনি। এমন অদ্ভুত বিস্ময়কর অনুভূতি তার জীবনে আর কখনো জাগেনি। একবার তার চাচা এক থলে চকলেট তাকে উপহার দিলে এমন ভাব অবশ্য সে সময় জেগেছিল। কিংবা সোডা বিক্রেতা তার ঘোড়ার গাড়ি নিয়ে গেটের সামনে এলেও তার মনে এমন ভাব জাগত। বন্ধুসুলভ লাল দাড়িওয়ালা গাড়িচালকের শব্দ এখনো তার কানে বাজে। রঘুর মতো এমন একজন কর্কশ কণ্ঠের অধিকারী পাকা ফুটবল খেলোয়াড়কে ফাকি দিয়ে নিজেকে অপরাজিত রাখার একটা আনন্দ তার কাছে একটা রোমাঞ্চকর ব্যাপার বলে মনে হল। নিজেই নিজের হাঁটু লজ্জায়জড়িয়ে ধরে বিজয় গৌরবের লরেল মুকুট পরার কথা মনে হল ওর।

বসে বসে সে হাসছিল সেখানে আর তার পায়ের জুতোর হিল দ্বারা বাথটাবে বার বার আঘাত করছিল। মাঝে মাঝে উঠে গিয়ে দরোজার ফাকে কান পেতে বাইরে ছেলেমেয়েদের খেলার শব্দ আর হৈ হল্লা শুনছিল। মনে হচ্ছিল সে-ই হবে শেষ পর্যন্ত বিজয়ী। সে তার বিজয় দ্বারা অন্যদেরও ছাড়িয়ে যাবে। ক্রমে দরোজার ফাক দিয়ে আসা আলো স্নান হয়ে এলে চালাঘরের ভেতরটা আরো অন্ধকার হয়ে আসতে থাকে। ক্রমেই ছড়িয়ে পড়ল বেজির লোমের মতো হলুদাভা এরপরেইতা নীল হল, তারপরেই ধূসর । বিকেল ক্রমেই পরছে আঁধারের আবরণ । ঝপঝপ পানি পড়ার শব্দ শোনা যাচ্ছে। মাটি পানি দিয়ে তৃষ্ণা নিবারণ করে অদ্ভুত সুগন্ধ ছড়িয়ে দিচ্ছে সবার জন্য।

রবি লক্ষ করল, চালাঘরের দীর্ঘ লাল ছায়া, চালাঘর আর গ্যারেজের ছায়াই তখন উঠানে গিয়ে পড়েছে। তার সামনেই দেখা যাচ্ছে ঘরের সাদা দেয়াল, বোগেনবোলিয়া হারিয়েছে তার সৌষ্ঠব, যেখানে দিনের বেলায় চড়ুইপাখিরা তাদের কিচিরমিচির শব্দে সদা সরব থাকত। চত্বরের বারান্দাটা তার সৃষ্টির আড়ালে ছিল। ও কি ছেলেমেদের কণ্ঠস্বর শুনতে পাচ্ছিল? মনে হল সে যেন সবই শুনতে পাচ্ছে। ও যেন ওদের হাসির শব্দ, সঙ্গীতের শব্দ শুনতে পাচ্ছিল। কিন্তু তখন খেলার বর্তমান অবস্থাটা কী? কী হল শেষ পর্যন্ত। এ খেলা সমাপ্ত হয় কী করে? এটি কী করে সম্ভব যখন তাকে এ যাবৎ খুঁজেই বের করা হয়নি?

এরপর তার মনে হল, এ জায়গা থেকে অনেক আগেই সে বের হয়ে যেতে পারত। বারান্দায় পৌছে নিজেকে লুকিয়ে রাখতে পারত, জয়ী হওয়ার জন্য এটার দরকার ছিল। এ ব্যাপারটি সে একেবারেই ভুলে গিয়েছিল। সে শুধু মনে রেখেছিল নিজেকে লুকানো এবং যে খুঁজবে তার চোখ থেকে নিজেকে সরিয়ে রাখার ব্যাপারটা । সফলতার সাথেই এটি সে সম্পন্নকরেছে। সে এতটাই এতে সফল হয়েছে যে অন্যদের স্বীকারোক্তিমূলক হ্যা শব্দের চিৎকার শোনার আগ্রহও দেখায়নি।

কান্নায় ফোঁপাতে ফোপাতে সে ফাঁক গলে বের হয়ে এসে হাঁটু চেপে বসে পড়ল । এরপর উঠে দড়িয়ে হোচট খেয়ে খোড়াতে খোড়াতে এলোমেলো পায়ে ছায়াময় বাগান পার হয়ে কান্নাজড়িত স্বরে সাদা স্তম্ভযুক্ত বারান্দায় উঠল। ডেন! ডেন! ডেন!চিৎকার ও কান্নার আবেগে তার গলা ভেঙে গেছে, দুঃখে ও বেদনায় তার চোখ জলে পরিপূর্ণ।

বাইরের উঠোনে ছেলেমেয়েরা তাদের গান বন্ধ করল। আর সবাই অবাক চোখে ওর। দিকে তাকিয়ে রইল। সন্ধ্যার আবছা আলোতে ওদের সবার মুখ অস্পষ্ট আর ত্রিকোণাকৃতির মনে হচ্ছিল। গাছপালা গুলোতে আঁধার জমাট বেঁধেছে, ঝোপঝাড়গুলো দীর্ঘ ছায়া ফেলেছে। ওরা সবাই রবির দিকে তাকিয়ে তার আকস্মিক উদয় এবং আবেগ লক্ষ করছিল এবং বুনো জন্তুর মতো তার চিৎকার শুনছিল। ওদের মা বেতের চেয়ার থেকে উঠে সামনে এগিয়ে এসে রাগতস্বরে ধমকে উঠল, থামো, থামো রবি, তুমি এখন শিশু নও, তুমি কি নিজে নিজেই কোনো ব্যথা পেয়েছো? মাকে দেখে ছেলেমেয়েরা তার কাছে চলে এল এবং একসাথে সবাই মিলে হাততালি দিয়ে গাইতে লাগল, ঘাস হল সবুজ, গোলাপ হল লাল।

রবিও দমবার পাত্র নয়, মায়ের হাত ছাড়িয়ে নিয়ে দ্রুত দৌড়ে বারান্দায় গিয়ে সবার সামনে উচুলয়ে বিজয়ীর ভঙ্গিতে বলতে লাগল, আমি জয়ী হয়েছি, আমি জয়ী হয়েছি। সবাই অবাক হয়ে চারপাশে ছড়িয়ে গেল। মাথার ঝাঁকুনি দিতে দিতে সে চোখের জলে ভিজে বলল, রঘু আমাকে খুঁজে পায়নি, আমি জয়ী, আমি জয়ী ।

আসলে রবি কী বলতে চাইছে এটা বুঝতে ওদের কিছুটা সময় লাগল। ওরা ওর কথা ভুলেই গিয়েছিল। রঘু অন্যদের অনেক আগেই যুঁজে বার করেছে। এর পরবর্তীতে কে হবে এটা নিয়ে ঝগড়া শুরু হল। ঝগড়া এতটাই মারাত্মক রূপ নিল যে, ওদের মা গোসলখানা থেকে বের হয়ে এসে এসব বন্ধ করে অন্য কিছু খেলার নির্দেশ দিলেন।

এরপর ওরা একটির পর আরেকটি খেলা খেলল, গাছ থেকে মালবেরি আহরণ করে তা ভেঙে খেল। ওদের বাবা ফিরে এলে গাড়িচালকের সাথে গাড়ি ধোয়ামোছায় সহায়তা করল। বাগানের মালির সাথে ততক্ষণ পর্যন্ত ওরা পানি দিতে সহায়তা করল যতক্ষণ পর্যন্ত না মালি ওদের পিতা-মাতার কাছে নালিশের ভয় দেখাল। ওদের মা-বাবা বাইরে বেরিয়ে এসে বেতের চেয়ারে উপবেশন করল । তারা আবার গান গাওয়া ও খেলা শুরু করল। এর মধ্যে ওরা কেউ রবির কথা মনে আনেনি। সবই দৃশ্যপট থেকে মুছে গেছে। এ ঘটনা তারা সম্পূর্ণই ভুলে গেছে।

রঘু জোর করে একপাশে তাকে ঠেলে দিয়ে বলল, আহাম্মকের মতো কথা বোলো না। মিরাও বললেন, চিৎকার থামাও রবি। রবি বলল, যদি আমাদের সাথে খেলতে চাও তাহলে লাইনের শেষ প্রান্তে গিয়ে দাঁড়াও সে রবিকে ওখানে রাখার জন্য দৃঢ় প্রতিজ্ঞ।

এগিয়ে চলল খেলা। দু জোড়া হাত উঁচু হয়ে একত্রে একটি খিলানের মতো তৈরি করল। ছেলেমেয়েরা গোলাকার বৃত্ত রচনা করে এর নিচ দিয়ে বারবার ঘুরতে লাগল গোল হয়ে আর মাথা নিচু করে মাঝে মাঝে বলতে থাকল।

ঘাস হল সবুজ

গোলাপ হল লাল

মনে রেখো আমার কথা

যখন আমি হারিয়ে যাব

হারিয়ে যাব, হারিয়ে যাব

তখন আমায় মনে রেখো ।

গোধূলির ম্লান আলোয় সরু বাহুগুলো আন্দোলিত হতে লাগল, মাথাগুলো নিচু হচ্ছিল বিষাদে, পাগুলো ওদের সুরেলা আওয়াজ তুলে ধীর লয়ে উঠানামা করছিল, কিন্তু রবি এতে অংশ নিল না। সে তাদের অনুসরণও করল না। সে এমন বিষাদপূর্ণ খেলায় নিজেকে যুক্ত করতে চাইল না। সে দুঃখ নয়, বিজয় কামনা করছিল। কিন্তু সবাই তার কথা ভুলে গেছে,এজন্য ওদের সাথে সে যোগ দিচ্ছে না। সবার স্মৃতি থেকে সরে যাওয়ার এই গ্লানিকে সে কীভাবে মেনে নেবে? সে তার হৃদয়ে তীব্র এক বেদনাভার অনুভব করল। সে লম্বা হয়ে সিক্ত ঘাসের উপর শুয়ে মুখ লুকাল, কান্নাকে আর দীর্ঘস্থায়ী করল না, সীমাহীন এক ক্রোধ বুকে ধরে নীরব হয়ে রইল। 

Word Notes

Long day of confinement in the house — mothers allowed their children to go out to play only in the afternoon. For the major part of the day they remained confined in the house.

(1)Stifled — suffocated.

(2) Strained-

(3) Shuttered — closed.

(4) Wailed — cried high-pitched out of pain.

(5) Horrendously — very unpleasantly or with horror

(6) Crackling — making a series of slight cracking noises.

(7) Pod — a long narrow seed case.

(8) Maniacal yells — mad cries or shouts.

(9) Stridently — loudly and harshly

(10) Gravel — small stones, used for paths.

(11) No life stirred — no movement or touch of life

(12) Tail in a wag — moving tail

(13) Arid time of the day — parched or dry time of the day.

(14) Shrieks — sharp cries

(15) Twitched — made a short, sudden jerking movement.

(16) Tumbling — falling clumsily headlong.

(17) Shoving — pushing roughly

(18) Panting — breathing hard

(19) Jubilation — great joy

(20) Grumbling — complaining angrily

(21) Chanted in melancholy unison — sang untidily together in a sad tone.

(22) Compost heaps — heaps of fertilizer

(23) Gleaming — shining

(24) Stumbled — tripped and lost one’s balance

(25) Panic — great fear

(26) Superciliously — haughtily, with great pride.

(27) Hibiscus — a plant with brightly coloured flowers.

(28) Trampling — pressing under foot

(29) Sprawling — falling with arms and legs spread out awkwardly.

(30) Sagged — sank or drooped gradually.

(31) Sidled away — walked away in a timid or stealthy way.

(32) Mortuary of defunct household goods — a place where household goods, no longer in use, are kept; a cremation ground.

(33) Seething — filled with great and unexpressed anger.

(34) Chuckled — laughed quietly

(35) Temerity — fear

(36) Snarling — growling aggressively.

(37) Whacked — struck with a sharp blow.

(38) Muffled — made a quieter sound.

(39) splodge — a spot or smear

(40) Hirsute — hairy body

(41) Intoxicating — iiiaking drunk, exhilarating

(42) Deriding — ridiculing

(43) Pursuer — follower

(44) Whimper — making a series of low, feeble sound.

(45) Benumbed — senseless

(46) Bawled — shouted, wept loudly

(47) Sepulchral — gloomy

(48) Howling — shouting

(49) Lugubrious — sad, gloomy

(50) Melancholy — sad and painful

(51) Ignominy — shame

(52) Emerged from — appeared suddenly from

(53) Rage — anger

(54) Crumbling — falling, breaking down

(55) Mournfully — with great sadness, lamentingly

(56) Insignificance — without any importance

(57) Lividity — appearing dark and inflamed

(58) Quaked — trembled

(59) Bath and shower of talcum powder — Profuse use of powder making it appear to have a bath with it.

(60) They faced the afternoon — went out in scorching heat.

(61) Purple and magenta — colour of mixed red and blue.

(62) Dead fruit — like ripe fruits and falling dead.

(63) Two white marbles rolling in the purple sockets — The eye sockets of the dog appearing of purple colour with eyeballs seeming like two white marbles.

(64) Sizzling air — very hot air.

(65) Blood curdling yell — cry out of great fear which seem congeal blood.

(66) Superciliously — very proudly.

(67) Crotons and hibiscus — plants.

(68) “you’re dead” — a boy if touched or found out by others will be considered to be dead, that is, out of the game.

(69) Phlegm-obstructed — obstructed with cold.

(70) To beat out his prey — to beat to feel the presence of the children in hiding.

(71) Self — congratulation- it means that Ravi congratulated himself for winning.

(72) Spooky — feeling afraid in solitude or loneliness.

(73) Hunched himself to a ball — shrank himself to be as small as ball.

(74) An insect exploring him — an insect finding a person nearby goes on his body.

(75) Milling crowd — it means children moving around.

(76) Despairing scream — a cry in despair.

(77) Fuzzier — not clear.

(78) Homing sparrows — sparrows returning home.

(79) Touched the den — touched the mark of victory.

(80) Spilling long shadows — spreading long shadows.

(81) Refrain — words respected in a song.

(82) Confinement — imprisonment.

(83) Bloated — swollen.

(84) Horrendously - awfully, terribly.

(85) Magenta - bright crimson.

(86) Sizzling — too hot.

(87) Streaked - moved very fast.

(89) Frantic - wildly excited.

(90) Tumbling — falling quickly or violently.

(91) Shoving — pushing. Intervene — interfere so as to prevent something.

(92) Grumble — complain or protest in a bad-tempered way.

(93) Jubilation —rejoicing.

(94) Cheat- deceive.

(95) Whisk —brush away quickly.

(96) Invisible —that cannot be seen: unseen.

(97) Skittering - skimming over the surface of the water

(98) Superciliously-mewKQz N„Yv© K‡i &&Ggbfv‡e with contemptuous indifference.

(99) Perspiration-Nvg - sweat

(100) Stalk Pzwcmv‡i kЅ‡K AbymiY Kiv —‘walk with slow strides, in a proud self important way.