My Sis: Through My Eyes (2)

Chapter – 2 (COURAGE – A CHARACTERISTIC HALLMARK OF MY SISTER- THE DAY I WAS TAUGHT A LESSON ON COURAGE)

I feel sad that in our formative years, our elders try to impose their will on us, knowing full well that what they want us to conceive as right, may not be the right thing for us to do later on in life. The fact that my once courageous sister, doesn’t raise her voice any more when so much of injustice is happening around her, pains and saddens me no ends.

That was an evening for me to have an experience of a life time. I have always been the daughter of the family. You know what I mean, don’t you? I preferred spending time with my late Ma to hanging out with my friends. What I learnt just by being with Ma, will suffice for the rest of my life and all kinds of experiences that I might have learnt by going out with the friends. My sis, Tapasi, on the other hand, was more like a Tom boy. No on second thought, I won’t go to the extent of calling her that but she has been one heck of a courageous lady. She was totally fearless and even caused headaches to some of those terrors of boys at times. A distinct incident comes to mind at this point.

You know, I’d love to be a man. By a man, I mean a man. Someone who is fearless, ruthless – who can do the heroics at the drop of a hat. I can never be like one of them in this life. Not that I want to be like those ruthless murderers either. I do not see any reason why I am reminded of a friend at school called Sunil. Later, he reached the semi-finals of the Inter-University Boxing Championship. He was still in the early days of his boxing career in standard-X, when one day we were playing football on the corridor in front of the classrooms on the first floor. I do not remember what happened, but in the wink of an eyelid, turning my head, I saw Sunil giving a nice blow to a close friend of mine with his right hand before hitting his nose like a pro. Within no time, blood was gushing out of the broken nose like you won’t believe. My other friend was no coward, but that time he thought it best just to cover his bleeding nose with the back of his hand and back off. Sunil, like a man on a murder mission, still kept on murmuring not being able to do real damage to the other friend.

That amazing evening, we, my sister, her friend, someone called Mitalidi, a next door neighbour and I, were on our way to Entally Market. Oh, sorry. Before talking about that incident, let me share another one, to show how meek and mild-mannered I have always been. I’s accompanying my sis-in-law (she was not yet married to my brother at that time) to one of her friend’s house not very far from our ancestral home. We went and had a gala time at her friend, someone called Durga’s. While I was coming back, at the turning of the road, there was a group of boys sitting on a cemented area near the shop dealing in the sale of old newspapers. Someone passed a remark. Both of us had already passed them by then on our way back home. My sis-in-law, who studied in an English Medium School and was another desperado, looked at me,” Bappa, you heard them, didn’t you? Shouldn’t we go back and bash them?” But the Gandhi in me got the better of me and I pleaded with her not to read too much into the remark. After all, no one would dare pass a remark to any member even distantly associated with 41, the home of the Bhattacharyya’s! My sis-in-law was just like my sister in many ways and wouldn’t have been happy just by braying for their blood for their ill-manner. But, she relented to my plea, though she kept whimpering all the way.

Now to come back to the evening when the three of us were heading to Entally Market – in order to get there, we had to cross a locality called Gope Lane, a very notorious place in those days. The election was approaching and some bigshots and their henchmen really were terrorizing the area in those days. I still remember one goon, a huge, muscular man, before whom even my friend, Sunil, would pale into insignificance in comparison when it came to breaking bones and heads!

My sis, Tapasi, was in front with her close friend, Mitalidi. I was sauntering behind, a bit fearfully. Even till date, I could never like the smell or look of that area. God! Please, let’s reach our destination safely. I am feeling so tired already, I might have been whispering something like that to myself, when, hey-hoei, one of those nasty, blood-thirsty boys , playing cards seated on a mattress spread out on the sidewalk, made a pass at the diminutive yet divine-looking Mitalidi. Now, mind you, most of those goons, knew us the Bhattacharyyas quite well and would never even look up in the direction of my sister. Forget about passing a remark at my sister, who was looked upon as their sister by some muscle-flexing Big Bros in our area as well. But hardly had the man said something to Mitalidi when I saw my sister slowing down her pace. God! Let her do no silly thing. I started praying to god desperately, with my eyes closed as if hell was about to break loose in that area soon. All those big boys had stopped playing cards by then and instead of looking at Mitalidi, they were now directing their attention at my sister. I started looking around. There was no place for me to hide behind.

My sis, in the meantime, had bent down to take the slipper off her feet. Then pointing it at the direction of those boys, she cried out fuming: Who wants to be slapped with the slipper? Show me your face if you have the guts.” God! Please protect my sister. She doesn’t even know who she is shouting at. I was praying to God with all my might, knowing full well that there was no hope for my dearest sister.

There was a pin drop silence for what seemed like an hour. Then one of those leaders got up and said something to the others in a low voice, almost admonishing. My spirited sister was pacified by him next. And all was well with the world once again.

I can never get that incident out of my mind. That day, a girl, most probably in the high school, taught not only me, but a host of bystanders, a LESSON ON COURAGE. Her image of holding the slipper in one hand, pointing to those goons, standing in the middle of the road with Mitalidi nuzzling close to her from behind, is something I’d like to associate my sister with for the rest of my life. Especially, at a time when most of the people who really loved her like their own sister, are long gone and forgotten.

Mitalidi, our next door neighbour, was a bosom friend of my sister. She was a short-statured, mild-mannered lady with the kindest face you would rarely see on anyone. That evening Mitalidi called sister and requested her to accompany her (Mitalidi) to Entally Market for something. Entally Market is some ten minutes walking distance from our place and people in Central Kolkata frequent there for shopping. On the way to Entally Market, one had to go past a place called Gope Lane which was notorious in those days as the Den of the Devils. Mitalidi must have called sister keeping the notoriety of Gope Lane in mind. As I had to buy a few things of my own for a school project, I decided to accompany them as well. 

The sun had long gone down as the street lamps were slowly coming to life. Walking side by side, we hurried our steps while walking past Jagadish School, a boys’ school, towards Gope Lane. There was a decorator’s shop on the right and I, walking ahead by then, could see some bare-bodied ruffians, sitting on a mattress, playing cards. The air was thick with smoke because of the smoke coming out of a house chimney, and the rings of smoke curling out of the noses and mouths of those henchmen.

They were screaming and yelling, plunking their cards down on the mattress. I felt my knees weakening as I scurried past them. One of the thugs looked up from the cards, turned his head towards me and went back to playing while I had my heart in my throat!

I, on my part, turned my head backwards to see how far Mitalidi and sister were. They were just a few steps away from me when one of the goons spat out on the road, cursing. He must have noticed pretty Mitalidi then.

“Malta dekh mairi..kya cheez hain!” (Look at the gaal. What a beauty, yaar!)

I broke into a trot, not taking my eyes from looking behind all along. Mitalidi was walking as well. But she looked hesitant as if she was going to cry out soon. Only sister had stopped walking.

In slow motion, she turned her head to the gangsters.

“Kathata ke bolli re?” (Who passed that remark?) She asked loudly. The distorted expression on her face frightened me. I knew that she was dreadfully angry. Next moment, I saw her bending down to take the chappal off her foot. The pranksters, in the meanwhile, had stopped playing cards. While a couple of them were chuckling, the others talked amongst themselves in a hush-hush voice. 

In case I forgot to tell you earlier, let me tell you that my Sister was extremely popular in our locality. She was good in sports and games, in extra-curricular activities and a born leader ( She was the GS of her college, South Calcutta Girls’ College, at that time). Even some of those evil characters knew her quite well. They were the ones trying to hush-hush the chucklers into silence.

“Jodi sahos thake, samne aai. Jutiye thik kore debo…” ( If you’ve the guts, come in front. I know how to straighten you guys with this chappal..). She was simply livid and rambled on.

There was a pin-drop silence. Mitalidi was elbowing her from the side, begging her to move towards Entally Market. I stood like a mere spectator as did the others. Then two of those rascals got up and came up to Sister who stood there still, hissing, with her hood raised, ready to strike any moment.

They apologised to Sister on folded hands on behalf of the culprit and requested her to move on and let bygones be bygones. Good sense finally prevailed as Sister calmed down and joined us, waiting a few yards ahead.

Now, whenever I recollect that scene, I feel dreadfully ashamed of myself. But my pride in my Sister has not abetted a wee bit since then. She was and still is My Real Hero.