A bitter realisation

 

It is not Morena or Bind or some such dacoit infested places of bygone days  but some small town in a nearby state that was known  for  regular gang wars and political killings and often plain dacoity going under the garb of  the other two crimes. 

The  town folks got scent somehow of an approaching trouble  by word of mouth that the ruthless thugs plan to loot the town very soon. The residents  living in all parts of the town  kept a close vigil to  see if any strangers on motor bikes  were seen loitering amidst their midst and trying to gather information.

Nandu, a farmer from a nearby village, had come to this town in search of his wayward elder brother who it was rumoured had fallen into bad company of dacoits. His old and sick mother has always been pleading with Nandu to trace his elder brother and bring him home. She hoped that her elder son would mend his ways once he saw his wife and children struggling in  poverty not realizing that it was actually the poverty at home that drove him initially into their fold.

Nandu knew it was difficult to get out of such violent gangs once you get in and become wise to their hideouts, their ways and the identity of the members. Even a faint attempt to escape brought an instant and   fatal reprisal.   Nevertheless, Nandu had no mind to ignore her request when  he came to know that  the gang may loot the town in a couple of days and had stationed himself in a friend’s place.

It was in the morning on the fateful day that four roaring motor bikes entered the town from  Western direction followed by two or three each from the other three directions and were seen  being driven here and there within the small town shooting aimlessly in the air  and at anyone who crossed their path spreading great fear and panic.

The residents locked their doors securely and those especially women and girls who chanced to be outside their homes scampered to hide safely in their  homes or wherever  they could. Farmers from fields  and workers from places of work hurriedly tried to reach their homes.

Nandu  who was outside in the local bazaar hid himself in an open garage  near him but could not close the doors fully in the hurry. There was a small gap. It  was  however  dark inside with an unpleasant  smell of stale grain in gunny bags, hay and cattle dung. Gun shots were heard intermittently from outside and the bikes  were roaring past.

It was then he heard a motorbike stop outside the garage and someone trying to kick start it repeatedly in vain. There was then total silence that was harrowing.  To add to the disquiet the timorous Nandu got the shock of his life when he heard someone breathing  from close quarters and stifling a sneeze. He was afraid to be alone in the dark garage possibly with a dacoit.

As he inched his way towards the door.  he heard someone  inhaling snuff softly. He was now sure about the presence of another man in the garage. Soon he heard  the  soft  clapping of one palm by the other usually made  by ghutka users. He remembered  that his elder brother was  addicted to ghutka  like himself and also snuff. The frequent soft clap from him after crushing the stuff  with his thumb assured Nandu it must be his brother.

Emboldened he softly queried, “ Is it Motu of Siyagarh?”

There was no reply but the soft clap of palms continued.

“ I am Nandu, your brother,”  and he added,” If it is Motu give me a sign of recognition.”

There was a loud laughter and Nandu taking it as a positive sign happily moved closer to the place from where the laughter came.

It was then the door was pushed open by someone and in came the bright sunlight.

Nandu froze in fright when he saw a glistening  metal from the masked man inside  pouring bullets at the figure at the entrance. Nandu was now not certain after witnessing the ruthless killing,  whether the masked man was really his brother as he had assumed.

Overcome by fear and to assuage the angry man, Nandu unconsciously proffered his ghutka tin towards him. There was then a  ‘Gabbar Singh‘ hilarious laughter followed by a confident step towards him.

“ Nandu, ma aur thum kaise ho? Dar gaye kya?” (Nandu, how are ma and you? Got afraid or what?”) he asked as he removed the cloth covering his face only to reveal a face with a deep scar on his jaw, twisted lips, yellow teeth and an evil smirk.

Nandu with mixed feelings of  gladness at having traced at last his elder brother and a strong  distaste at his wanton cruelty on an unknown man, bent low to touch his feet as was customary. There was a bitter pain at the realisation that Motu was beyond redemption.