The unusual rainfall in December added to the cold; it sent shudders all through the spines of people out of their cosy beds at night. Sutirtho sat on a broken bench near the entrance of the platform, bedraggled and shivering in cold. The arcane darkness of night presented an awry sight, with the foxes howling at a distance and frogs croaking relentlessly. The train engine had gone for a toss; the driver of the engine had fought hard to repair it, but all in vain. The next train to Azimgunj would arrive the following day afternoon. He had to reach home anyway, his ailing mother had grown serious over the past week, and he was informed of the news just that day. The irregularity of sending a communique over to him was tolerable but, he felt it had crossed the limit that day. His father, the old humbug, the drunkard, was little concerned about anything. Though Sutirtho couldn’t manage leaves so often, his friend Mohan would take care of that. Mohan was astute; he could handle all official matters with plenty of poise and composure, so that, neither the business was affected, nor did the personal life.

Sutirtho had a bad day so far; Mohan was engaged in a lot of deals with the customers, some of which Sutirtho was supposed to handle. The sudden news of seriousness of his mother, made him sit in stupor for sometime, till Mohan consoled him and packed his bag so that he could board the next train available to home.

Mohan and Sutirtho were friends for almost three years now; they worked in the same company and lived under the same roof. Mohan had been a real support for him all these years; strangely, he had developed a strong bond of love and affection for him. It was as if, he didn’t require anybody else when Mohan was around. A number of times he had been a good buddy, he’d comfort him when he was ambivalent or morally down. He’d automatically provide him a chest to cry, an affectionate pair of arms to shield from the hostile world; more than friends they have been true brothers sans a blood relation. Mohan’s constant bantering had helped in improving his perspective of viewing things.

As Sutirtho ruminated over his association with Mohan, he felt uncannily lonely at the station platform. He was riding over a convolution of thoughts, with his emotions being very viscous at times. He also loved his mother so much, and couldn’t even think of her death. He just prayed that all would be well by the time he reached home. He decided to take a bullock cart and follow the beeline to his village the next morning; it would probably take three to four hours to reach.

He was more of an introvert, so couldn’t ever speak out. But, Mohan could understand everything; he had the knack of reading Sutirtho’s eyes, the anticipation in them. Sutirtho just wondered how he’d spend that night; he needed someone for a moral fortification.

“Damn! It’s going to be a pretty long night”.

He always needed him for a mental boost up, now that he was sad about his mother’s health he desperately needed to talk to Mohan. There was no telephone booth nearby to make a call, and he knew Mohan wouldn’t sleep the night as well, thinking of him! Sutirtho had discovered that he’d almost been a symbiote for him. “Saab,….. Saab. Chai lelo.” The chaiwala urged. “What…? er..oh! Its morning already ?”

He hopped on to a Bullock cart that would take him to his destination. Thought of his mother kept him preoccupied all through until he reached home and found that her health had improved after the consultation with a better Doctor from the nearby village. He saw Hiren chacha at his house.

“Son, it’s all his blessings as well as bane.” He frowned. “Bane…. I didn’t get you, why?” Sutirtho quizzed.”Mohan is no more!” He apprised.”Why….? How…..??” Sutirtho collapsed on the bed.

He couldn’t speak, he was overwhelmed. It was a feeling as if somebody had held his throat with a vise. He found it very difficult to breathe. Hiren chacha explained. Banwari Seth had sent in hooligans to their house to find Sutirtho for the repayment of money he’d taken from him. Mohan tried explaining the situation calmly. They wouldn’t listen and kept on asking him his home address. Mohan understood their attitude and till his last breathe denied revealing anything. He’d given his life for him.”I… I … don’t believe this! Not possible…… No way!!” He flinched.He felt jittery, went to the nearest telephone booth, in a flash, to ring back. No one would answer the office phone, as if there was a host of phantom listeners at the other end.

Sutirtho ran away to a desolate corner, the good-ol days with Mohan flashed back and started whipping him reiteratively. Warm tears started flowing like the lava from a volcano erupting in full fumes. His heart disintegrated into thousand pieces; his mind was torn asunder, uncomfortably numb; nostalgia enrobed him, unable to believe what he’d heard he let out a cry as loud as possible, of despair, of the hollowed, blanched mind. He felt lost in an unknown wilderness. His homecoming had cost him dearly!

We are thankful to Mr. Partha Pratim Sanyal for contributing this short story. If you liked reading this short story then do not forget to leave back your comments and make sure to pen down something for our contributor who can be reached on partha972000 @ yahoo . co . in