A Troop of Revolutionaries | S Story

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 A Troop of Revolutionaries

(A Short Story by M. Menonimus)
 
A Troop of Revolutionaries

A Troop of Revolutionaries

A Troop of Revolutionaries

Arup was my classmate during High School life. He was born to wage-earning parents. His father Sanjib managed his family by driving a trolley. Arup as a student was a mediocre one. But after passing the H. S. L. C. Examination, he was put to work because of his father’s untimely death. Since then the burden of the family fell on his head and hence he had to make an end to his further studies. Since then we seldom met because he had to stay away from home for earning his livelihood. He is now about forty years old. Last Monday he accidentally came to my home. I was happy to meet him as he was one of my intimate friends. But he seemed happier than me by meeting as he embraced me by the throat.  During our school days, we often walked together to the river bank enjoying the wavy waters of the Great Brahmaputra.

I asked, “Where have you from all of a sudden as a surprise?”

He replied, “I had been in Dibrugarh for the last ten years and have come home last Sunday.”

I asked again, “How about your children?”

He replied, ‘By the good grace of God I have three children: one son and the other two are daughters.”

I asked, “Have you got any new experience in that new place?”

He made a pause and then with a little smile said, “Yes, I have remembered a queer experience there.”

I asked, “What is that?”

He said, “Would you like to hear?”

“Yes, if you like to tell I would hear.”

Then he began to tell, “I worked as a manager under a Bengali contractor who worked in the P. W. Department. His name was Suvash. He was a fine man who took every care of us. Once he was in charge of constructing a bridge. Then he was in need of some plain wood to be used as pillars. He made an understanding with a forest official and took permission to collect some pieces of wood from the forest. One day he sent me along with twenty laborers to the forest. We took the necessary tools and instruments to cut trees and to carry away the logs we had taken a truck with us. At the time of our start, he warned us not to be afraid of the revolutionaries who used to stay in that forest in temporary tents in order to operate their revolutionary mission. We started our journey to the forest in the morning and at about ten o’clock we reached our destination which lay at the foot of the Himalayas. On the way, we met with wild deer, bears, boars and monkeys. The more we penetrated ahead the deeper became the forest. After reaching our destination, I put the workers to hewing some mature teak trees.

Just a furlong away from our workplace there was a gang of revolutionaries who lived in a huge tent. Then a member of the revolutionaries came out of the tent and after being asked I showed him a sealed note of paper given by the contractor. Seeing the note he said, “Keep up secrecy and make haste in having your work done and see that you return before it is noon.”

I assured him that we would try our best to have our work finished within the prescribed period of time. Then he went back to the tent. Some few yards away from the tent I saw that some cadres of the revolutionaries were sitting in a circle on a flat hill under a pear tree. They were talking to each other. I thought they were gossiping. They were five in number. All were wearing the dress corresponding to the uniform of the C. R. P. F. of India. All of them seemed to be above forty. Among these five there was one with a long mustache, stout body and bluish eyes. I guessed he might be the leader of the band. Another was a tall fellow with a plain face and a sharp nose. He sat face to face with the boss. The third one was a short one. He bore a flat nose and a yellowish complexion. The fourth one was characteristically an unfamiliar one as he had a short beard and he seemed to speak little. The fifth one was a comparatively young one as he seemed to be agile and active.

To quench my curiosity I went some steps ahead and sat in a relaxed mood under a teak tree about sixty to seventy feet away from them. They were talking among themselves in a carefree mood. I was attentive to what they were saying.

I heard the fifth one asking the fourth one, “Comrade, why have we gathered here?”

“I don’t know.”

The third one replied, “We are here because we had to be here.”

“Well, well. You are right, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

Then the second one, all of a sudden, looked at their leader and asked, “Sir, what was my original name?”

“Why?”

“I have forgotten, sir.”

“It must be looked in the register.”

The second one said, “Let our names go. Curse on the names! Let us think of the day. When the day will arrive at 1 p. m.?”

The leader replied, ”it is a very new and complex question. Our commander in Chief may know it.”

“Then what was the name of our country, sir?”

“I had not memorized it though during my school days our headmaster emphasized on memorizing it.”

The one who sat next to the boss of the congregation said, “I have heard that the name of our country must be either Bangladesh or something else.”

“Well, well, you bear a good memory. Thank you, comrade.”

Then the fourth one asked addressing the entire congregation, “What were the main objectives of our revolution?”

The third one replied, “Why?  Have you forgotten? I remember that to eat, drink and sleep and to do revelry was our objectives.”

‘It was one of our several objectives but what was the main one? He asked again.

One of them replied, “I can’t say.”

Another said, “It is a silly question. Why should we need to know? Let us kill and live.”

Then the Boss of the five shrieked out suddenly and replied, Yes, yes, I have remembered. It was freedom, freedom.”

“Freedom from what?”

It has been kept a secret from us. Only the president and perhaps the Secretary of our organization know it.”

The fourth one said, “Perhaps, freedom to get effaced the name of our state from the map of Asia!”

Then one of them with disgust said, “Let us leave them here and think of our breakfast. When will our breakfast be ready?” 

 The Boss said, “At 2. p.m.”

It was fifteen minutes to two. The sun was shining brightly. My labourers seemed to be sweating and tired. In the meantime, a woman of about thirty came out of the large tent and walk towards the tree. One of them, looking at her, said, “Look, our sweetheart is coming. Perhaps our breakfast is ready.”

Then the Boss said, “Why do you call her ‘our sweetheart’? In the daytime she is our mother. And at night when we sleep with her she becomes our sweetheart.”

“Yes, sir. Excuse me.”

The woman came up to them and said, “Dear comrades, you may come in, the super is about to be ready.” 

Suddenly one of them looked up at the tree and seeing that the tree was full of ripe pears, yelled out like a wild dog and said, “Look at the pears. How deliciously they would taste!”

Then the boss ordered the fifth one to climb up the tree in order to pluck off some ripe pears for them. All the rest pushed him up by the hip and with the help of his comrades, he climbed up the tree and reached the top of it. There were many ripe pears around him. But he seemed to be indifferent to the pears. Then the others who were standing under the tree gaping their mouth up began to yell out, “Comrade, give me the ripe one, and give me the ripe one.”

Another began to cry up, pointing to a red one, “turn left and pluck off that and throw that to me.”

But he began to swing on the branch of the tree like a baboon. His comrades began to shout at him but he seemed as if he was deaf and forgot why he climbed up the tree.”  0 0 0

A Troop of Revolutionaries

N.B.  The short story ‘A Troop of Revolutionaries’ originally belongs to the book ‘Neha’s Confession and Other Stories’ by Menonim Menonimus.

A Troop of Revolutionaries

Books of Composition by M. Menonimus:

  1. Advertisement Writing
  2. Amplification Writing
  3. Note Making
  4. Paragraph Writing
  5. Notice Writing
  6. Passage Comprehension
  7. The Art of Poster Writing
  8. The Art of Letter Writing
  9. Report Writing
  10. Story Writing
  11. Substance Writing
  12. School Essays Part-I
  13. School Essays Part-II
  14. School English Grammar Part-I
  15. School English Grammar Part-II..

Books of S. Story by M. Menonimus:

  1. The Fugitive Father and Other Stories
  2. The Prostitute and Other Stories
  3. Neha’s Confession

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I am Menonim Menonimus, a Philosopher & Writer.

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