The old man was sitting on a boulder facing the mighty river Brahmaputra at a lonely place near the Don Bosco Institute. This part of the city of Guwahati, known as Kharghuli, is beautiful with a number of green hilltops on one side and the Brahmaputra on the other.
It was a beautiful afternoon with soft sunlight. I had a long afternoon walk and my tired body signalled for brief rest. Yes, I was tired and seeing the old man alone, took a seat beside him. He, however, showed no interest at all. I was a bit annoyed. Few moments of boring silence passed on. To break the monotony of silence, I said, “The mighty river Brahmaputra is so beautiful, is not it?”
He kept mum. After a brief pause, he asked me, “What is your hobby?”
“Storytelling is my hobby. I used to write short stories for newspapers and magazines.”
“That’s great. Everyone has a story to tell. Everyone is a writer. I have a great story to tell. Would you like to hear me?”
I nodded.
Anamika, a beautiful girl, was a student of a local college. As a good singer, she was admired by the college students, even loved by her teachers. The irony of fate was that the girl lost her mother at the age of 12, the most crucial period for a girl child. This is the time when a girl child attains her puberty.
The beautiful girl attained her puberty just after the death of her mother. Her dear father, who had to play the role of her mother too, nurtured her. There was one domestic help Ramu who also loved her like his daughter.
Time slipped by. Then there arrived another male member Rintu. He was the son of Anamika’s maternal uncle who managed to get an employment in the High Court. Anamika took the initiative to ask her father to allot the solitary room on the roof of the house to Rintu. Her father had no objection as the room on the roof was lying vacant for long. Rintu with a gym-fit lovable body was always found in jubilant mood. In between, six months elapsed.
That was a cold December night when Anamika returned late after attending a musical programme at the college auditorium. She was suffering from headache and after taking a tablet given by her father, went straight to her bed. In the morning, she felt somewhat uneasy.
Anamika enjoyed Holi all day long with her friends. The weather was dry with winds blowing. The entire city turned dusty. In the afternoon, she returned home and found the floor of her room covered with a thick layer of dust. She was too tired to clean her room and asked Ramu kaka to prepare dinner early. At about 8 0clock she went to bed. And she was in deep slumber.
Even in her sleep, she could feel the weight of someone on her tender body. She tried to open her eyes but failed. In the morning she felt unusual uneasiness in her private part. She rushed to the bathroom. Removed her night gown and stood naked before the Belgium mirror and meticulously examined her private part. She was shocked. Oh, my God! She had lost her virginity. Who else could be the person? She asked herself. Terribly shocked, she returned to her room. The floor of her room was dusty. Suddenly her attention turned to the dusty floor. And she got the answer. She could not believe her own eyes.
That was the first Monday after the festival of colours. She left for college as usual but did not return in time. It was evening. Her father waited for her impatiently. Darkness had slowly descended and the daylight had almost gone. Her cell phone was found switched off. Finding no alternative, her father approached the police.
Police registered a case and that was all. No trace of Anamika. Came Thursday. Large number of people gathered by the bank of Brahmaputra at Kharghuli. A fisherman and his minor son recovered the body of Anamika. Police arrived at the scene and sent the body for postmortem examination. The post-mortem report revealed that she was pregnant. Her father lost his dear daughter. He could not bear the shock. Ramu left his job and returned to his village. Rintu also decided to shift to a rented house in Uzanbazar area close to his work place.
The unfortunate old man, father of Anamika, had to stay in the house all alone. Sleep rejuvenates mind and body. It is essential for human development. But the unfortunate old man could not sleep. At midnight, his sleep was always disturbed by the heart-rending cry of his daughter Anamika. After about a month, he went to the river side at Kharghuli where the body of his daughter was recovered. Prayed for few minutes and then he jumped into the mighty Brahmaputra.
The old man concluded his story without mentioning the name of the person responsible for the death of Anamika. He simply mentioned that Anamika saw something on the floor of her room that signalled her as to the identity of the rapist. What did she see on the floor?
“What Anamika saw on the floor of her room that led to the identity of the rapist?” I asked the old man.
After a long pause, he replied in a coarse voice, “Footprints. Footprints of the rapist with six toes on his left leg.”
I have seen man with six toes, one additional toe attached to the smallest toe. In the house, there were three males — Ramu, Rintu and the father. Who had six toes? With hesitation, I asked the old man, “Who had six toes?”
The man was visibly annoyed. He got up and suddenly vanished in the thin air.
The sky was turning dark but still the remnants of the setting sun, left in the western sky, feebly seen as a dull reddish blanket spread over that area. In the soft light that was available, I saw something unusual that sent shivers down my spine.
The dhoti-clad, barefooted old man had six toes on his left leg.
(Contributed by Sarat C Neog)
