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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Character Based
- Published: 05/13/2015
Saibal
Born 1953, M, from Kolkata, IndiaIt was a sultry and humid day in August, more so within the confines of the over crowded bus, where you could wipe your face and neck and wring the handkerchief to get a cup full of water. I was lucky enough to get a seat beside the window, where a modicum of fresh air filtered in when the bus was moving. But at the same time, the irregular splashes of sweat from the arms and face of the man standing in front of me, clutching the rod overhead, created its own discomfort. I had requested the man several times to wipe his arms and face with a hanky, but he apparently did not carry one, for now and then, he obliged by wiping his arm against his sweaty shirt.
Adjacent to the man was another person of medium stature, slender in build. As the bus moved in fits and starts on the congested road, he would anxiously ask me every now and then, “Dada, what is the time?” or “Dada, where have we reached?”
When he repeated his query, “Dada, what is the time?” for the umpteenth time, I replied with a touch of asperity, “Just two minutes after you asked last! And, we are just crossing Lake Town”, preempting his next question.
As the bus neared the next stoppage, the man sitting next to me stood up to leave and my querist sat down with a sigh in the seat next to me. Taking out a handkerchief to wipe his sweating face, he said apologetically, “You must be annoyed at my frequent enquiries regarding the time. But you see, in my hurry, I forgot to put on my watch while leaving home this morning and it is absolutely important that I return home before 12 noon.”
He glanced out of the window of the bus and murmured to himself, “Maybe another twelve minutes to Kaikhali, then another eight minutes in the rickshaw, so I should be home in another twenty minutes.” He gave me a sheepish look and asked hesitantly, “Could I ask you the time for one last time?”
I gave him an exasperated look and showed him my watch, which gave the time as 11.30 a.m. He gave a sigh of relief and a smile flitted across his face as he said, “Thank God! I will be home on time.”
My curiosity was roused by his evident tension and the urgency of reaching home by twelve noon. I couldn’t stop myself from asking him, “Why is it so critically important to reach home by twelve?”
He gave me a long stare, as if summing me up, debating whether he could confide in me the reason for his haste. After a pause, he asked me, “Do you believe in horoscopes?” I hummed and hawed and said, “I have heard that some astrologers are able to predict the past quite accurately, but their predictions for the future often turn out wrong. I won’t say I am a staunch non-believer, but at the same time, I wouldn’t categorize myself as a strong believer either.”
He seemed satisfied with my answer, for he gave a nod of his head and said simply, “Well, you see, my horoscope predicts that I will die at noon today.”
He said those words with such equanimity and assuredness that I was not sure I had heard him correctly. “Will you repeat what you said?” I asked.
He felt that he owed me a longer explanation and said, “You see, I have been a firm believer in astrology since my school days, when the father of a friend of mine prepared my horoscope. He was able to relate some incidents from my life which, I was sure, my friend knew nothing about. Nor did his father know my family so that he would have access to such information. He was the first person who predicted that my life would end at 12 noon on 12th August this year. There were other predictions he made about my education, the type of job I would have, the year of my marriage and they have all come out true till now. After that prediction by Kaku, I have become obsessed with consulting astrologers, much to the irritation of my wife. Some of the astrologers counseled me to wear a topaz, to ward off the final day, which I do. There are now many frauds masquerading as astrologers and their predictions have turned to be incorrect, but the ones whom I regard as genuine astrologers have been unanimous in predicting that my last day on the earth would be today. That is why I am so anxious to reach home by twelve, so that I may die on the ancestral bed on which my grandfather and father passed away.”
I was astounded by the utter conviction and the matter of fact manner he spoke and could not help saying, “This is utter nonsense, unless you are suffering from some life threatening disease which you may or may not be aware of. Does your wife know of the prediction?”
He replied, “No, I do not suffer from any disease, as far as I know. And I may have told my wife once, a long time ago, about the prediction in my horoscope, but since she just does not believe in astrology and calls it mumbo jumbo, I am sure she has forgotten about it by now. The topic of astrology being so sensitive, I have not had the courage of reminding her lately of my imminent death for fear of triggering another round of marital discord!”
I didn’t know what to say, but asked out of curiosity, maybe with a touch of sarcasm, “So, what was it of such earth shaking importance that made you venture out of home on this critical day?”
He replied simply, “The life insurance premium. You see, I have a clerical job in a private company. The pay is reasonably good, but there is no facility of family pension. For the past few years, I have been nagged with the worry as to how my wife and daughter will maintain themselves after my death. The house I live in is inherited from my grandfather, so a roof over their heads is assured. But my daughter is studying in the ninth class. She would need to complete her schooling. I would dearly love to see her doing her graduation before marriage. So there ought to be sufficient corpus or regular source of income to maintain themselves as well as meet the costs of marriage of my daughter. Then, after my daughter’s marriage, I would not like my wife to be dependant on my son-in-law. So there should be some lump sum amount left to yield sufficient income to let my wife live the rest of her life in reasonable comfort.”
The man peered out of the window of the bus and murmured to himself, “Another seven minutes should get us to Kaikhali” then turned to me and continued, “You see, all these thoughts kept swirling in my head over a long period of time, as I kept on pondering how to meet my commitment towards my family. There were times when I could not sleep the whole night, as I worried about this problem. Then, one day, just two years ago, one of my colleagues, who also worked as an insurance agent in his spare time, asked me, “Hey, Saibal, do you have any life insurance?”
I was astounded at my stupidity and wondered why I had not thought of this simple solution to my problems so long. I shook my head and said no. Subir said, “Why don’t you take out a policy. At your age, the premium should be quite low if you take a simple life cover, and it would be a solid safeguard for your family in case of your death.”
I said, “Subir, give me some time to think it over.” Not that I needed much time to decide on taking a life insurance policy. The time was required to calculate what the sum assured should be, so that my family’s needs in the foreseeable future could be reasonably taken care of from the insurance proceeds.”
“I sat up the better part of that night doing my calculations. I thought, with the house being there and a family of two, around fifteen thousand a month ought to be sufficient to meet daily expenses and education costs of my daughter till she graduated from college. A sum of around Rs 5 lakhs to Rs 7.50 lakhs would be needed for her marriage. This would reduce the corpus invested in fixed deposit and the interest income as well. But then, since my wife would be living alone, her expenses would also reduce, so she should be able to maintain herself comfortably from the interest income.”
With long term interest rates around 10% per annum, I calculated that a deposit of Rs 18 lakhs would be required to give an interest income of Rs 15,000 a month. Deducting Rs 7.50 lakhs for Dipti, my daughter’s marriage, there would still be a deposit of around Rs 10 lakhs, which would give a return of Rs 1 lakh a year, about sufficient for my wife to get by. To provide for contingencies and inflation, I decided that the sum assured should be rounded off to Rs 20 lakhs.
The next day, I went to Subir and proposed that I wanted to take a policy for Rs 20 lakhs. Subir whistled and said, “Rs 20 lakhs! Brother, you don’t cut corners when you decide on something, do you? Well, it is great and means a lot of commission for me, I won’t hide from you. But you have to undergo a medical examination and be certified healthy before the policy is issued. And since there is a hefty commission I will be entitled to, seeing you are my long time colleague and friend, I won’t mind sharing a part of the commission with you.”
So, the next week, I underwent a medical examination by the empanelled doctor of the insurance company, was categorized a “Class A” risk and asked to pay the first premium of Rs 9000. I wiped out nearly the whole of the balance in my savings bank account, paying the premium, but that was the least of my concerns. After what seemed ages, I was able to sleep soundly.
You asked me why I had ventured out of the house today. You see, the second premium was due today and the policy becomes effective only if at least two installments of premium are paid. I had to go to the insurance office and deposit the premium today in cash.”
We were approaching Kaikhali and as Saibal got up to leave the bus, he gave me a smile and said, “We won’t meet again, but thank you for giving me such a patient hearing. It is a load off my chest!”
On an impulse, I got up, curious to see the matter to its logical conclusion. I said, “If you don’t mind, I am coming with you to your home. You are a hale and hearty man, and I am sure that the prediction will be proved untrue in a couple of minutes. I want to see you acknowledge that astrology is not always correct.”
Saibal hesitated momentarily, then said, “Okay, come along, But how do I introduce you to my wife?”
“Tell her I am your old college mate, who you met on the bus after a very long time,” I said, as we got down from the bus and went to the rickshaw stand.
Saibal asked me hesitantly, “Would you mind telling me the time once again?” I looked at my watch and said it was a quarter to twelve. Saibal gave a sigh of relief and said, “We will be home quite in time.”
We sat silently as the cycle rickshaw twisted and turned through many labyrinth lanes to come to a stop before a modest one storied house. Saibal got down and paid the rickshaw wallah, saying, “Welcome to my humble abode” as he rattled the knocker on the door.
A pretty plumpish young girl of around fourteen opened the door. Saibal said, “This is my daughter, Dipti, and this is my old college friend …” Saibal stumbled, since I had not told him my name. “Kirti” I offered. Saibal said to his daughter, “Yes, Kirti kaku. We were in college together and we met on the bus today.”
We left our slippers just inside the main door and Saibal led me to a medium sized room, sparsely furnished with an antique teak wood bed at one end, two folding metal chairs and a metal table. At one corner of the room stood an old, pedal mounted air circulator, while against a wall was an old grandfather clock, showing eight minutes to twelve. Saibal gestured to a chair and said, “Do sit down,” while saying to his daughter, “Go, tell your mother that Kirti kaku is here.”
I sat down as Saibal tugged the air circulator across the room to a position near me and inserted the plug of the frayed electrical cord into the socket on the wall. A small bucket of water stood near an internal door and Saibal went and splashed the water from the bucket on the floor, saying, “I can’t afford an air conditioner, but I have found that if one pours water on the floor and switches on the fan, the air cools down remarkably in a matter of minutes!”
A short, sweet looking lady, with her sari covering her head, entered from the inner do with her hands folded in salutation. Saibal went to her and lightly grasped her shoulder, to her mild embarrassment, and said, “Kirti, this is my better half, Deepa, and this is Kirti, my friend from college. We met after ages, and I couldn’t help inviting him home to chat of the old days.”
Deepa smiled at me and said, “Please make yourself comfortable. You must be terribly thirsty in this sultry weather. Let me fetch you a glass of water.” Saibal said, “If you don’t mind, I will go inside and change into something more comfortable.” They both went inside.
I looked around the room. The room had a couple of wooden windows on one wall, which were partly open, allowing a small amount of light to stray inside. I looked at the old teak wood bed and decided that it must be the ancestral bed that Saibal had been speaking of. The one on which his father and grandfather had died and on which he wished to die in too. I looked at the grandfather clock, in another five minutes. I noticed that the electrical cord from the air circulator had been extended by additional wire to enable the fan to be pulled into the centre of the room from the plug point at the far end. The insulation tape at the joint was coming undone.
Saibal reentered the room, now bare bodied and clad in a lungi. He looked at me and asked, “Are you comfortable and getting enough breeze?” tugging the fan further towards me, so that the electrical cord lifted from the ground as it went taut.
“I am fine!” I assured as Saibal went across to sit on the bed with his legs folded under him. I saw him take a surreptitious look at the clock as he asked me, “So, what do you do and where were you going when you got down from the bus with me?”
As I made to reply, I saw Saibal looking towards the inner door as the curtain parted to reveal his wife entering the room with a glass in one hand and a plate of sweets in the other. As she came in, her feet got entangled in the curtain, so that she stumbled and fell, the glass and the plate flying from her hands as she did so.
Saibal cried out, “Careful!” as he leapt up from the bed and dashed towards Deepa. As he did so, his legs brushed against the taut electrical cord, so that it snapped from the joint.
To this day, I do not know whether it happened by accident or he did it by design, but as the live end of the wire sparked on the still wet floor, Saibal stepped on it, convulsed once, and fell down heavily. The whole thing happened in a trice, and I sprang up and ran to the wall and jerked out the plug from the plug point before moving to Saibal to see how he was.
Deepa had picked herself from the floor and sat besides Saibal’s prone body, shaking him and saying “Saibal, get up Saibal”. The girl, Dipti, had come in, curious at all the commotion and I called to her urgently, “Go. Run, go and fetch a doctor immediately.” As she whimpered and hesitated, I shouted again, “Don’t stand, go immediately and fetch a doctor!” Dipti dashed out and I cradled Saibal’s head in my lap as I vigorously rubbed his hand and pressed his chest to get his heart pumping again. And all the while, Deepa sat beside Saibal and kept repeating in an incredulous voice, “Saibal, what has happened, Saibal? Why aren’t you speaking Saibal?”
There was a whirr from the grandfather clock as it started chiming twelve. I knew it was of no use, that Saibal had died as predicted. With a heavy heart, I waited for the doctor to come and make final the prognosis and help me lift him to the ancestral bed on which he had wished to die.
It is twenty years since the incident occurred and I still ask myself, “Would Saibal have died if I had not insisted on accompanying him home to see the prophecy be proved incorrect?”
Saibal(A Chowdhuri)
It was a sultry and humid day in August, more so within the confines of the over crowded bus, where you could wipe your face and neck and wring the handkerchief to get a cup full of water. I was lucky enough to get a seat beside the window, where a modicum of fresh air filtered in when the bus was moving. But at the same time, the irregular splashes of sweat from the arms and face of the man standing in front of me, clutching the rod overhead, created its own discomfort. I had requested the man several times to wipe his arms and face with a hanky, but he apparently did not carry one, for now and then, he obliged by wiping his arm against his sweaty shirt.
Adjacent to the man was another person of medium stature, slender in build. As the bus moved in fits and starts on the congested road, he would anxiously ask me every now and then, “Dada, what is the time?” or “Dada, where have we reached?”
When he repeated his query, “Dada, what is the time?” for the umpteenth time, I replied with a touch of asperity, “Just two minutes after you asked last! And, we are just crossing Lake Town”, preempting his next question.
As the bus neared the next stoppage, the man sitting next to me stood up to leave and my querist sat down with a sigh in the seat next to me. Taking out a handkerchief to wipe his sweating face, he said apologetically, “You must be annoyed at my frequent enquiries regarding the time. But you see, in my hurry, I forgot to put on my watch while leaving home this morning and it is absolutely important that I return home before 12 noon.”
He glanced out of the window of the bus and murmured to himself, “Maybe another twelve minutes to Kaikhali, then another eight minutes in the rickshaw, so I should be home in another twenty minutes.” He gave me a sheepish look and asked hesitantly, “Could I ask you the time for one last time?”
I gave him an exasperated look and showed him my watch, which gave the time as 11.30 a.m. He gave a sigh of relief and a smile flitted across his face as he said, “Thank God! I will be home on time.”
My curiosity was roused by his evident tension and the urgency of reaching home by twelve noon. I couldn’t stop myself from asking him, “Why is it so critically important to reach home by twelve?”
He gave me a long stare, as if summing me up, debating whether he could confide in me the reason for his haste. After a pause, he asked me, “Do you believe in horoscopes?” I hummed and hawed and said, “I have heard that some astrologers are able to predict the past quite accurately, but their predictions for the future often turn out wrong. I won’t say I am a staunch non-believer, but at the same time, I wouldn’t categorize myself as a strong believer either.”
He seemed satisfied with my answer, for he gave a nod of his head and said simply, “Well, you see, my horoscope predicts that I will die at noon today.”
He said those words with such equanimity and assuredness that I was not sure I had heard him correctly. “Will you repeat what you said?” I asked.
He felt that he owed me a longer explanation and said, “You see, I have been a firm believer in astrology since my school days, when the father of a friend of mine prepared my horoscope. He was able to relate some incidents from my life which, I was sure, my friend knew nothing about. Nor did his father know my family so that he would have access to such information. He was the first person who predicted that my life would end at 12 noon on 12th August this year. There were other predictions he made about my education, the type of job I would have, the year of my marriage and they have all come out true till now. After that prediction by Kaku, I have become obsessed with consulting astrologers, much to the irritation of my wife. Some of the astrologers counseled me to wear a topaz, to ward off the final day, which I do. There are now many frauds masquerading as astrologers and their predictions have turned to be incorrect, but the ones whom I regard as genuine astrologers have been unanimous in predicting that my last day on the earth would be today. That is why I am so anxious to reach home by twelve, so that I may die on the ancestral bed on which my grandfather and father passed away.”
I was astounded by the utter conviction and the matter of fact manner he spoke and could not help saying, “This is utter nonsense, unless you are suffering from some life threatening disease which you may or may not be aware of. Does your wife know of the prediction?”
He replied, “No, I do not suffer from any disease, as far as I know. And I may have told my wife once, a long time ago, about the prediction in my horoscope, but since she just does not believe in astrology and calls it mumbo jumbo, I am sure she has forgotten about it by now. The topic of astrology being so sensitive, I have not had the courage of reminding her lately of my imminent death for fear of triggering another round of marital discord!”
I didn’t know what to say, but asked out of curiosity, maybe with a touch of sarcasm, “So, what was it of such earth shaking importance that made you venture out of home on this critical day?”
He replied simply, “The life insurance premium. You see, I have a clerical job in a private company. The pay is reasonably good, but there is no facility of family pension. For the past few years, I have been nagged with the worry as to how my wife and daughter will maintain themselves after my death. The house I live in is inherited from my grandfather, so a roof over their heads is assured. But my daughter is studying in the ninth class. She would need to complete her schooling. I would dearly love to see her doing her graduation before marriage. So there ought to be sufficient corpus or regular source of income to maintain themselves as well as meet the costs of marriage of my daughter. Then, after my daughter’s marriage, I would not like my wife to be dependant on my son-in-law. So there should be some lump sum amount left to yield sufficient income to let my wife live the rest of her life in reasonable comfort.”
The man peered out of the window of the bus and murmured to himself, “Another seven minutes should get us to Kaikhali” then turned to me and continued, “You see, all these thoughts kept swirling in my head over a long period of time, as I kept on pondering how to meet my commitment towards my family. There were times when I could not sleep the whole night, as I worried about this problem. Then, one day, just two years ago, one of my colleagues, who also worked as an insurance agent in his spare time, asked me, “Hey, Saibal, do you have any life insurance?”
I was astounded at my stupidity and wondered why I had not thought of this simple solution to my problems so long. I shook my head and said no. Subir said, “Why don’t you take out a policy. At your age, the premium should be quite low if you take a simple life cover, and it would be a solid safeguard for your family in case of your death.”
I said, “Subir, give me some time to think it over.” Not that I needed much time to decide on taking a life insurance policy. The time was required to calculate what the sum assured should be, so that my family’s needs in the foreseeable future could be reasonably taken care of from the insurance proceeds.”
“I sat up the better part of that night doing my calculations. I thought, with the house being there and a family of two, around fifteen thousand a month ought to be sufficient to meet daily expenses and education costs of my daughter till she graduated from college. A sum of around Rs 5 lakhs to Rs 7.50 lakhs would be needed for her marriage. This would reduce the corpus invested in fixed deposit and the interest income as well. But then, since my wife would be living alone, her expenses would also reduce, so she should be able to maintain herself comfortably from the interest income.”
With long term interest rates around 10% per annum, I calculated that a deposit of Rs 18 lakhs would be required to give an interest income of Rs 15,000 a month. Deducting Rs 7.50 lakhs for Dipti, my daughter’s marriage, there would still be a deposit of around Rs 10 lakhs, which would give a return of Rs 1 lakh a year, about sufficient for my wife to get by. To provide for contingencies and inflation, I decided that the sum assured should be rounded off to Rs 20 lakhs.
The next day, I went to Subir and proposed that I wanted to take a policy for Rs 20 lakhs. Subir whistled and said, “Rs 20 lakhs! Brother, you don’t cut corners when you decide on something, do you? Well, it is great and means a lot of commission for me, I won’t hide from you. But you have to undergo a medical examination and be certified healthy before the policy is issued. And since there is a hefty commission I will be entitled to, seeing you are my long time colleague and friend, I won’t mind sharing a part of the commission with you.”
So, the next week, I underwent a medical examination by the empanelled doctor of the insurance company, was categorized a “Class A” risk and asked to pay the first premium of Rs 9000. I wiped out nearly the whole of the balance in my savings bank account, paying the premium, but that was the least of my concerns. After what seemed ages, I was able to sleep soundly.
You asked me why I had ventured out of the house today. You see, the second premium was due today and the policy becomes effective only if at least two installments of premium are paid. I had to go to the insurance office and deposit the premium today in cash.”
We were approaching Kaikhali and as Saibal got up to leave the bus, he gave me a smile and said, “We won’t meet again, but thank you for giving me such a patient hearing. It is a load off my chest!”
On an impulse, I got up, curious to see the matter to its logical conclusion. I said, “If you don’t mind, I am coming with you to your home. You are a hale and hearty man, and I am sure that the prediction will be proved untrue in a couple of minutes. I want to see you acknowledge that astrology is not always correct.”
Saibal hesitated momentarily, then said, “Okay, come along, But how do I introduce you to my wife?”
“Tell her I am your old college mate, who you met on the bus after a very long time,” I said, as we got down from the bus and went to the rickshaw stand.
Saibal asked me hesitantly, “Would you mind telling me the time once again?” I looked at my watch and said it was a quarter to twelve. Saibal gave a sigh of relief and said, “We will be home quite in time.”
We sat silently as the cycle rickshaw twisted and turned through many labyrinth lanes to come to a stop before a modest one storied house. Saibal got down and paid the rickshaw wallah, saying, “Welcome to my humble abode” as he rattled the knocker on the door.
A pretty plumpish young girl of around fourteen opened the door. Saibal said, “This is my daughter, Dipti, and this is my old college friend …” Saibal stumbled, since I had not told him my name. “Kirti” I offered. Saibal said to his daughter, “Yes, Kirti kaku. We were in college together and we met on the bus today.”
We left our slippers just inside the main door and Saibal led me to a medium sized room, sparsely furnished with an antique teak wood bed at one end, two folding metal chairs and a metal table. At one corner of the room stood an old, pedal mounted air circulator, while against a wall was an old grandfather clock, showing eight minutes to twelve. Saibal gestured to a chair and said, “Do sit down,” while saying to his daughter, “Go, tell your mother that Kirti kaku is here.”
I sat down as Saibal tugged the air circulator across the room to a position near me and inserted the plug of the frayed electrical cord into the socket on the wall. A small bucket of water stood near an internal door and Saibal went and splashed the water from the bucket on the floor, saying, “I can’t afford an air conditioner, but I have found that if one pours water on the floor and switches on the fan, the air cools down remarkably in a matter of minutes!”
A short, sweet looking lady, with her sari covering her head, entered from the inner do with her hands folded in salutation. Saibal went to her and lightly grasped her shoulder, to her mild embarrassment, and said, “Kirti, this is my better half, Deepa, and this is Kirti, my friend from college. We met after ages, and I couldn’t help inviting him home to chat of the old days.”
Deepa smiled at me and said, “Please make yourself comfortable. You must be terribly thirsty in this sultry weather. Let me fetch you a glass of water.” Saibal said, “If you don’t mind, I will go inside and change into something more comfortable.” They both went inside.
I looked around the room. The room had a couple of wooden windows on one wall, which were partly open, allowing a small amount of light to stray inside. I looked at the old teak wood bed and decided that it must be the ancestral bed that Saibal had been speaking of. The one on which his father and grandfather had died and on which he wished to die in too. I looked at the grandfather clock, in another five minutes. I noticed that the electrical cord from the air circulator had been extended by additional wire to enable the fan to be pulled into the centre of the room from the plug point at the far end. The insulation tape at the joint was coming undone.
Saibal reentered the room, now bare bodied and clad in a lungi. He looked at me and asked, “Are you comfortable and getting enough breeze?” tugging the fan further towards me, so that the electrical cord lifted from the ground as it went taut.
“I am fine!” I assured as Saibal went across to sit on the bed with his legs folded under him. I saw him take a surreptitious look at the clock as he asked me, “So, what do you do and where were you going when you got down from the bus with me?”
As I made to reply, I saw Saibal looking towards the inner door as the curtain parted to reveal his wife entering the room with a glass in one hand and a plate of sweets in the other. As she came in, her feet got entangled in the curtain, so that she stumbled and fell, the glass and the plate flying from her hands as she did so.
Saibal cried out, “Careful!” as he leapt up from the bed and dashed towards Deepa. As he did so, his legs brushed against the taut electrical cord, so that it snapped from the joint.
To this day, I do not know whether it happened by accident or he did it by design, but as the live end of the wire sparked on the still wet floor, Saibal stepped on it, convulsed once, and fell down heavily. The whole thing happened in a trice, and I sprang up and ran to the wall and jerked out the plug from the plug point before moving to Saibal to see how he was.
Deepa had picked herself from the floor and sat besides Saibal’s prone body, shaking him and saying “Saibal, get up Saibal”. The girl, Dipti, had come in, curious at all the commotion and I called to her urgently, “Go. Run, go and fetch a doctor immediately.” As she whimpered and hesitated, I shouted again, “Don’t stand, go immediately and fetch a doctor!” Dipti dashed out and I cradled Saibal’s head in my lap as I vigorously rubbed his hand and pressed his chest to get his heart pumping again. And all the while, Deepa sat beside Saibal and kept repeating in an incredulous voice, “Saibal, what has happened, Saibal? Why aren’t you speaking Saibal?”
There was a whirr from the grandfather clock as it started chiming twelve. I knew it was of no use, that Saibal had died as predicted. With a heavy heart, I waited for the doctor to come and make final the prognosis and help me lift him to the ancestral bed on which he had wished to die.
It is twenty years since the incident occurred and I still ask myself, “Would Saibal have died if I had not insisted on accompanying him home to see the prophecy be proved incorrect?”
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