An Unknown Journey

The evening was setting in. Pre winter chill mingled with the hazy air surrounding the river. There were few boats in the river. A little distance away the steamers were plying. Their black smoke thickened the already saturated dark air of the city.


It was the Ganga flowing through the heart of the city of Calcutta. People came to spend their evening out here. On the railing running along the banks of the river rested the elbows of countless couples of all ages.

In one such boat plying on the river was a group of friends. It was a break from the everyday monotony endured by them. It was not a very picturesque surrounding. The river was drying up slowly. Not a single speck of green could be found anywhere around. The banks were lined by dead concrete structures. Most of them were factories dumping their vile into the river. More structures were still coming up. Civilisation has succeeded in making the river a part of the city. They missed the restless and playful river running between the green valleys. It was a sad mood of the river that prevailed within the boundary of the city.


Diwali was celebrated a few days ago. The few remaining idols of the goddess were still being immersed in the river. They had the boatman row the boat towards the bank where an idol was being prepared for immersion. The remains of the celebrations were still afloat on the river. Melted down skeletons of the goddess lined the banks. Shakti was reduced to a mould of hay and canes.


A little distance away there was a crowd at the side of the river. The boat rowed in that direction. After going a few feet ahead they had the boat turn back. A body was being fished out of the water. Somebody had drowned. It was a common scene here. People die and sometimes it was the river that served as the death bed. The people in the crowd were not interested in the person or the death it seemed. They never are. It is an opportunity of experiencing something out of the ordinary which they relished. The men in uniform were there too. They had to keep the city clean, get rid off the trash. The ambulance left after sometime along with the police. The crowd dispersed too. The man who died lived in a nearby slum, they heard from the boatman.

The glowing sky gradually gave way to the engulfing darkness. The day was dying slowly. Narrow strips of maroon still lingered on the horizon. Swarms of crows flew past the sky piercing the atmosphere with their shrieks.

The bank was empty. The show was over. In the white light of the halogens put up for the immersion a figure of a woman became visible. She wore a torn and old saree. Holding the end of the saree was a small girl about five to six years old. Both of them seemed to stare at something which was not seen by anyone else there. There was something sparkling in the woman’s face. Broken pieces of bangles lay mixed with the dust around the naked feet of the woman. She turned her face to look at their boat. The white light reflected off the tears running down her black dry cheeks. Her eyes were filled with an emptiness that existed beyond the human reach of the universe.
From the radio of some tea stall the faint words of a song blew in with the breeze

“ Koto je elo, koto je gelo
Nahi to kichui songe
Amra ke kothar kothai chole jabo….”



(How many have come, how many have gone
Nothing is with me.
From where we came and where will we go…”



Then and there began an Unknown Journey for the woman.