The time was of the Kalbaishakhi storm. This is a story from our childhood. Bidhu, Sidhu, Nidhi, Tinu, Badal, and many of us had gone to bathe at the river ghat after a long, scorching afternoon. The crowd wasn't very large.
Bidhu was the eldest among us. Suddenly, he paused, cupped his hand behind his ear, and said, "Listen—listen to that."
We stopped and tried to listen carefully, but hearing and understanding nothing, we asked, "What is it?"
Bidhu didn't answer. He stood there silently, still cupping his ear. Suddenly, he spoke up again, "Listen—listen—"
This time we also heard a faint rumbling sound coming from the western sky. Nidhi said dismissively, "Oh, that's nothing—"
Bidhu reprimanded him, saying, "Nothing? What do you know? Do you even understand? A storm will rise in the month of Baishakh when the clouds gather in the west like that—that's a Kalbaishakhi."
"Do you know what a storm means? It means gathering mangoes at the Chanpaltali orchard!" The orchard at Chanpaltali is famous in this region for its sweet mangoes. If a storm rises, whoever reaches under those trees first wins.
We were still standing there. The midday heat was still intense. Many of us were still skeptical, but the faint rumbling from the distant sky was gradually becoming clearer.
"But there's no sign of rain yet," someone remarked. "Is it right to go to the Chanpaltali orchard under this heat just for a faint sound?"
Bidhu cleared all our doubts. Just as he always stood by us, he announced that he was heading to the Chanpaltali orchard immediately. Anyone who wished to join was welcome to follow him. Ch2. Write our nicknames."
Bishu said— "Write them down. Nicknames are everyone's favorite."
Three pieces of paper were written on and pasted with wood-apple glue onto three different trees by the riverside road.
Two or three days passed.
No one came.
After three days, a thin, dark-complexioned man came and stood in front of our bench. I was sitting there reading. I asked— "What do you want?"
— "Babu, who owns the name 'Indrabibhishana'?"
— "It's my name. Why? What do you want?"
— "Is a box being offered to you?"
I was annoyed that he mispronounced my name, so I said irritably— "What kind of box?"
— "A wooden box."
— "No. Go away."
— "Babu, it's not wood, it's a tin box."
— "What color is the tin?"
— "Black."
— "No. Go."
— "Babu, wait, let me tell you. I can't remember properly. This color is like—"
— "No, you go."
The man walked away looking disappointed. When I informed Bishu, he said— "It's not 'not', it's 'yes'. He fell for the bait. Let's see how many people come now."
Another three or four days passed. Ch3.
A man came to Bishu. His description didn't match either; but Bishu dismissed him immediately. While leaving, the man sighed and said to the chowkidar (watchman), "Go and see our things, etc." Bishu said with a mocking tone, "Go, go, whatever could be salvaged has been. We couldn't even find a box." No one else came after that.
It rained heavily that year. That time, there was a terrible flood in our river.
We saw big trees being swept away in the river's current. We even saw a cow or two floating away. The people of Amberpur Char (river island) became helpless. The river took away their small huts—we saw those floating too! What wonderful fields of pointed gourd and pumpkins they had on the river island! In a matter of moments, the current took away all those vegetables. Somewhere, their thatched granaries were seen floating away. Everyone started saying that the people of Amberpur Char were completely ruined.
One afternoon, a man came to our courtyard. Father was sitting with a hand-fan in front of him...
Ch4. "...Taking the rent for the land from the tenants, looking after the digging of the well in the village—Father had many things to attend to. We two brothers were also turning the pages of our books under his strict supervision. Just then, someone said, 'Dandabat (Greetings), Thakur-moshai!'
Father said, 'May you be blessed! Where are you coming from?'
— 'Coming from Amberpur, sir. I am Kapali.'
— 'Sit down. What brings you here? Have some tobacco.'
— 'No sir, I just came... Shajher.'
Ch5.
The man sat down and began to smoke. He had come to this village in search of work. He had lost everything in the flood—no clothes, no food. In this monsoon, the helpless family had taken shelter in the cowshed of the Nirikh-kholas. Even the milkmen had shown mercy and lent him two aris of paddy, but that too was running out. If he didn't find work now, his wife and children would starve to death.
Father said, 'Stay and have some rice and dal here today.'
The man sighed and said, 'I will eat, sir—since you are offering, I certainly will. But my heart is restless. When I think of that day... Last month, I was returning from the market at Nirikh-khola after selling some pointed gourds. I had sold the small girl's jewelry to get her married—about two and a half hundred rupees worth of jewelry and the cash from the gourds. It was in a tin box inside a bundle. While returning through the forest path, the bundle fell off the cart, and I didn't even realize it! Then came this flood—'
Father asked, 'What? You lost that much money and jewelry?'
— 'Fate, sir! Just my luck! Where are those things now?'
I stood nearby and listened—'What was the color of the box?'
— 'Green, made of tin.'
Father didn't know anything about the box. He scolded me, 'You don't need to interfere—go and study!' But I had already run towards Bidhu's house. I met Bidhu on the way. Upon hearing everything, Bidhu said, 'Wait, let's go get Sidhu too. They will stay as witnesses, won't they?'
Bidhu is the smartest among us. Everyone says he will grow up to be a great lawyer.
Within half an hour, a small crowd gathered in front of our grocery shop. The man stood there bewildered. Tears began to fall from his eyes. He kept looking at our faces and saying, 'Thakur-moshai, you are like gods! Will you show such mercy to a poor man?'
Bidhu isn't someone who gets confused easily. He said, 'Check if all the items are there. And Uncle, will you write a receipt for us on a piece of paper? Do you know how to write?'
'Yes, yes, he will certainly be a lawyer!'
My father was so surprised by the whole situation that not a single word came out of his mouth."