Sikandar : 10 Players 68 Days by Binayak Banerjee

Author:Binayak Banerjee [Banerjee, Binayak]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Westland Publishing
Published: 2012-05-21T18:30:00+00:00

Bonolata Pattanayek

I had got up to leave but Makhanda forced me to stay back and sit by Shubhrangshu. That man has an innate art of cajoling that one cannot say ‘no’ to him. That is probably why he is a successful political leader.

I asked him, ‘What exactly do you want me to do?’

He removed the thermometer from Shubhrangshu’s mouth and said, ‘Pay for my sins.’

‘Why don’t you do that yourself?’

‘I can’t do that alone, sister, I’m getting too old.’ He replaced the damp strip of cloth on Shubhrangshu’s forehead with another.

I was looking at him. His salt and pepper hair and his demeanour devoid of any extravagance. He did not seem like a common, ruffian type at all. If anything, he came across as a very easy-going, effervescent man. I liked that.

‘Will you win Makhanda?’ I asked him abruptly.

‘Of course, I will win! Till date I have lost only once, that too because of rigging. I came back to power in the by-elections the very next year. Actually, nobody else does the type of work I do for my constituency.’

‘Who is talking about your constituency? I am talking about this game show. Do you think you will win it?’

‘Here? Are you mad?’

And why not? You look quite confident on television.’

‘I am in politics: do you think I will start stammering in front of the camera? But winning here requires a different outlook, a different style … you have a name for that mannerism, what is that word in English?’

‘You mean charisma?’

‘Yes, you need charisma. And I don’t have that charisma, sister.’

‘Then why are you here?’

‘To gain experience, to get to know people like you and …’

‘And?’

‘To apply cold press on a feverish Shubhrangshu’s forehead!’

I laughed. You were talking about charisma; do you think I have charisma?’

‘You have far better things than charisma.’

‘What are they, Makhanda?’

‘You have a large heart. Now, will you be a darling and apply the cold compress for ten minutes? I will be back soon.’

I don’t know whether he was talking me for a ride, but I feel like believing what he told me. I want to believe that I have a heart, in the present tense, not in the past tense. That heart which had died in that college guest-house has again come alive by some miracle. I am laughing again, singing again, walking along the Puri sea shore. Other places have beaches, Puri has a sea shore and Lord Jagannath resides there.

But where was Jagannath when those animals had attacked my brother? Where was He when Atri, unable to withstand the brutality of that night, slashed his wrists?

He was there. He may have been present inside me, how else could I have got so much strength? How else could I have stayed up so many nights, guarding Atri, very slowly creating a space for life in his wilful death, just like marking penalty boxes and centre circles in a field, how could I have otherwise done so much? Everybody had thought that Atri had gone mad.

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