Too
Divine to Live
Morshed
Ali Khan
From
Kathalia the metallic road amid lush green paddy fields
to Kowkhali looked pristine on August 12. The nightlong
torrential rain had submerged the green fields and washed
away every grain of dust from the pitch-black road that
wound its way to Kowkhali launch ghat with rows of large
plantations adorning both its shoulders. Occasionally a
rickshaw passed by, interrupting the heavenly silence with
its mild bell. A few naked children took turns to climb
a rain tree that rose above a rousing canal nearby and jumped
into the water with great delight.
Ahead
on the road suddenly appeared a column of about ten rickshaws
slowly proceeding towards an unknown destination. From behind,
the column looked as if an unusual wedding procession was
moving towards a village. But a sad bewailing cry from a
female passenger seated on the second rickshaw shattered
the peace.
“Is
this justice? Is this what we get? Oh bhagaban what have
you done to my brother?” a young woman in her late teens
cried out with someone sitting next to her on the rickshaw
holding her tight to prevent her from falling. On the first
rickshaw of the column sat two young men holding the lifeless
body of a healthy young man, hardly in his early twenties,
on their laps. His eyes shut, the head of the dead man lay
hanging on the lap, facing skyward.
It was
an unusual procession. Relatives said Tapan, a second year
student of HSC at the Kowkhali College, had committed suicide
by hanging himself from the ceiling of his house an hour
ago. The doctor at the Kowkhali hospital had just declared
him dead and the relatives were taking his body to Palpara,
where he lived with his parents.
Until
now the story was sad but simple. But behind the story was
a story that went almost beyond all imaginations and instantly
provoked thoughts that ended in a Cul-de-sec. A relative
said that two years ago a wandering sadhu had arrived at
their doorstep. The three following days the sadhu stayed
with the family, Tapan constantly remained with him, offering
care. As soon as the sadhu was gone, Tapan summoned his
family members and told them he would take up a divine exercise
known as mounabrate in Bangla... a meditation taken up by
sadhus in this part of the world to attain spiritual elevation.
Tapan vowed not to talk for five years. He avoided most
meetings except at college and with friends, if necessary,
he would write down what he wanted.
It was
just at the end of two years of this strange exercise of
soul searching that Tapan could take no more. The young
man, fearing that he might fail to honour his unusual vow,
took his own life and departed from the world with a dignity
that probably he alone could justify.
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