Naxalite

Hindol Bhattacharjee

Translated by the author from the original Bangla story first published in Krittibas, March 2023.

On the pink wall, a square marble slab bears the inscription “Kutir.” Below it are the names Amalendu Roy, Chitra Roy, Kaushik Roy, Megha Roy, and Simli. The marble has become a bit dirty. The wall bears an iron gate that, when opened, creaks loudly, as if announcing an arrival. That’s when Simli’s barking starts.

This two-story house is home to Amalendu Babu and his wife, Chitra, on the first floor. Both are over sixty. On the second floor live Kaushik and his wife, Megha. They have no children, but they do have a young Labrador named Simli.

Houses like this are common in Kolkata, especially near the outskirts. So, why mention it? First, this is the only house of its kind in the area. The rest are all new apartment buildings. The tall buildings surrounding this pink house seem to gaze at it like giraffes. Sometimes, the house appears to be a prehistoric creature, surrounded by trimmed hedges and standing awkwardly in the midst of a concrete jungle.

The issue isn’t that the apartment promoters and local politically-backed goons haven’t tried to evict the residents and demolish the house to build an apartment complex. The problem is different. It’s been discovered that before this house was built, some Naxalite youths were murdered and buried beneath the land. Although no one investigated the incident later, from the local tea stalls to the market vendors, everyone would tell the story of “Kutir.” The land isn’t suitable for residential purposes. Abhiraj Contractors did try to rid the land of its supposedly ill-fated aura. If the land is indeed inauspicious, how can Amalendu Babu live here? Suggestions ranged from building a temple on the land to performing a yajna (a Hindu ritual) to purify it.

However, the power of myths and stories surpasses logic. Once a myth starts circulating through word of mouth, it spreads faster than wildfire. It penetrates people’s dreams and subconscious.

For instance, Babhin, who ran a tea stall in front of Amalendu Babu’s house, would often see four bearded men whispering among themselves near his stall at night. They would vanish into thin air when he approached them. Babhin wasn’t the only one to see these four ghosts; many others claimed to have spotted them near the local club, the police station, and even on Amalendu Babu’s roof.

Fortunately, Amalendu Babu and his family, including their dog, remained oblivious to such presences. However, they did benefit from the story of the ghosts, which gradually spread throughout the city’s outskirts, and prevented their molestation by landsharks and Kolkata’s infamous housing mafia. But not for long.

As a result, the police eventually discovered the truth about the four Naxalites who were murdered and buried beneath the land. One afternoon, APDR (Association for Protection of Democratic Rights) members visited the site, and soon after, a Martyrs Memorial was erected opposite Amalendu Babu’s house. The inscription on the memorial read, “Four unknown youths who dreamed of a different world.”

While people usually gather around such memorials to socialize, this particular one was avoided due to its proximity to Amalendu Babu’s house and the graves of the four Naxalites beneath the land.

Former professor Amalendu Babu is a closet Naxalite, but he loves watching the Bangla romantic film Sapta Padi. He can’t tolerate bloodshed and violence. He has even stopped eating meat. Lord Krishna is his favorite deity. Although he was a professor in Bengal, his true devotion was to Krishna. His wife was also a teacher. Their son and daughter-in-law work in an IT firm.

The family’s dynamics regarding the house are not peaceful. The son and daughter-in-law want a slick modern flat. They have no qualms about accepting lucrative offers from promoters. Amalendu Babu’s wife doesn’t mind either. However, Amalendu Babu is reluctant to leave the house because he loves it dearly. He thinks the house is alive; it talks to him, feels emotions, and even dreams. This eccentric attachment frustrates everyone, including his wife, Chitra, who performs puja twice a day. She says Amalendu Babu’s mind has gone crazy.

When the promoters’ harassment gradually decreased, everyone was surprised but not astonished, as they had already heard the ghost story. They had learned that the house was built on the graves of four young men who were murdered on that very land. However, they weren’t too afraid. And that’s when the story began.

2

As soon as the doorbell rang twice, Simli rushed downstairs and started barking loudly. Megha opened the door to find a tall, bearded man standing outside.

“I’m Sushant Roy from Lal bazar, Detective Department,” he introduced himself.

Megha invited him in, and as they sat in the living room, Simli continued to wail. Sushant began, “I’ve come here regarding a rumor. Is it true that there are four Naxalite corpses buried beneath your land?”

Koushik replied, “I wouldn’t know about that.”

“People often make up stories,” Amalendu Babu added.

Sushant asked, “So, the story is false?”

Amalendu Babu responded, “I don’t know.”

Sushant continued, “Look, if we spread the word that the story is false, the promoters will be back to harass you tomorrow. But if we say it’s true, there will be an investigation, and you’ll face trouble. So, which do you prefer? The promoters or the police?””

Koushik asked, “You believe in ghost stories and will bring the police in for an investigation?”

Sushant replied, “If this were a ghost from a zamindar’s house or a local goon, I wouldn’t have come. But these ghosts are of four Naxalites. They’re conspiring in the tea stalls and disappearing when seen. A few days ago, they were spotted near the police station around 10 pm and vanished into thin air. That means they’re a threat.”

Amalendu Babu asked, “What threat?”

Sushant said, “Even if the Naxalites are ghosts, they’re still a danger to the state. We need to catch them before they cause any terrorist activity.”

Koushik asked, “But they’re already dead. What can they do now?”

“You don’t understand, they can cause even more damage now. They’re Naxalites, after all. You saw what happened to that old human rights activist, didn’t you? He couldn’t even eat without his rice tube or see without his thick glasses. But we didn’t spare him. We didn’t let him eat or see. He’s dead now. If he were alive, he’d cause even more damage.”

“Oh, him! He was 87 years old. What could he have done?”

“I know you have a Naxalite mindset, Amalendu Babu. You’re an urban Naxalite, aren’t you?” Sushant was relentless.

Amalendu Babu remained silent.

“I know, I know everything. Don’t go down that path. Stick to your religion and whatnot. Why bring up guns and violence? You’re a professor, a gentleman. You’re old now. Tend to your garden, tidy up your house.”

“I understand that, but are you going to dig up the floor?”

“No, the house needs to be demolished.”

“What? Where will we go if the house is demolished?”

“Don’t you understand? Your house is haunted by four Naxalite ghosts. Can you keep living here?”

“Then where will we go?”

“Why worry? We’ll arrange for you to move into the best flat in a top-notch housing complex. Shift there and forget about this house. We’ll pay you for the land and the house. But we’ll demolish the house and dig up the land. Four Naxalite ghosts! Can you imagine? We will need to surround the place with snipers.”

“But can snipers kill ghosts?”

“No, but everyone will see our snipers surrounding your house, trapping the ghosts. The Naxalites. This will erase fear from people’s minds.”

“Fear of whom? The ghosts or the Naxalites?” Koushik asked.

Sushant fell silent for a moment, then sat down on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other.

He smiled wryly and said, “You see, just as you need to fear a virus, you also need to fear its host. But here, the Naxalites are the virus, and the ghosts are the hosts. The fear is more about the virus, isn’t it?”

“Then, to cut to the chase,” Koushik interrupted, “you’re saying our house will be demolished. But do you have a court order?”

“Look, to get a court order, we need to file a case against you first. For harboring terrorists. Then the case will become complicated. It’ll be a case of sedition. All four of you will be in trouble because of the ghosts. Instead, we’re offering you a flat, you get to keep your social standing, and we’ll take care of the packing and shifting. This is a war zone, this land on which your house stands. Remember that.”

Sushant stood up. “I’m leaving today, but I’ll be back tomorrow. Decide what you want to do. But we want this house, this land. We want everything, including the skeletons buried beneath it.”

After he left, everyone except Simli was struggling to process what had just happened. It was scorching hot outside. No one could be happy or sad in this bizarre situation. The bigger issue was that the country’s intelligence agencies were chasing ghosts, and they were afraid of those ghosts. This thought slowly started to sink in, and Amalendu, along with the other three, began to feel a creeping sense of fear.

“Can’t we just leave the house, like Sushant Babu said?” Megha asked.

Simli occasionally looked up at the sky and cried, and stared silently outside. Koushik followed her gaze but couldn’t find anyone. Were those four ghosts roaming around them?

“I’ve told Father. Mother keeps saying, ‘Let’s leave. Let them do whatever they want. Let them launch rockets, bring in tanks, fire machine guns, or drop atomic bombs. What’s it to us? We’re getting a shiny new flat, money, and freedom from this daily tension. The world has changed, and nobody’s walking that path of revolution anymore.'”

“What’s Father saying?”

“Father says the house is our shelter.”

“Oh, but we’re getting a shelter!”

“Father isn’t convinced. He says we’re being sent to jail in the name of shelter.

“Are we being arrested or something? You’re going to the office, I’m going to the office. Father can go wherever he wants, and Mother… anyone can come to our house. We can go wherever we want. Where are we prisoners?”

Koushik didn’t respond to this and instead closed the door to the balcony.

3.

“So, what have you decided?” Amalendu asked while sipping tea in the drawing room in the evening.

“We’ve decided to leave. They’re offering a good package. It’s best for everyone,” Koushik said.

“Yes, yes, so much trouble…” Chitra couldn’t hide her annoyance.

“Hmm,” Amalendu murmured.

“Alright, I will let them know. But…” Amalendu trailed off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chitra asked, her voice tinged with irritation.

“I’m not leaving,” Amalendu said.

“What do you mean? Chinta, tell your father to understand. At his age, it’s not good to be so stubborn,” Chitra said.

“What age is that? I never asserted my stubbornness at any age. You all got what you wanted. I stepped back when I was young, when I truly wanted to change something. I stopped writing poetry, got a job, taught, and saved money like a typical middle-class father. Today, can’t I stand by them for once?”

“Stand by whom?” Megha asked, surprised.

“Are you going crazy? They’re ghosts! We don’t even know if they exist. The country’s intelligence agencies have heard rumors of Naxalites and are coming. They don’t know whom to catch. They have power, planning, laws, and orders. An entire machinery. And those you want to save don’t even have bodies,” Koushik said, agitated.

“Yes, right?” Amalendu said.

“Yes, I mean, on the one hand, you have the entire state, and on the other, you have a concept. Ghosts are just a concept. Like revolution, it’s a concept. And you’re stuck in the middle. Alone. What can you do?”

“I’ll provide shelter,” Amalendu said.

4

Sushant made arrangements for their shifting. Without going into details, it can be said that the state did its job efficiently, leaving Koushik, Megha, and Chitra content – or, as they say in English, satisfied.

But Amalendu wouldn’t budge. Sushant simply said, “You all leave. We’ll take care of things. Amalendubabu won’t be harmed. I’ve left instructions to that effect. We’ll bring him to your new home on time.”

In an empty house, one sometimes feels like there’s another person inside. The sound of one’s own footsteps can be startling. One’s own whispers or murmurs can seem like someone else’s voice. Amalendu stepped out of the house, and the small garden they had made on the land seemed happy today. Several trees were blooming – chandramallika, bel, and jaba. The sun shone on the flowers. Even the lankagachh tree had new fruits. This land couldn’t be barren. Because beneath this land lay the bodies of four Naxalites.

Every piece of land has someone’s history buried beneath. And history is never a happy story. History means a thousand tales. Which tale becomes history depends on what you want to hold onto. As Amalendu thought about these things, he heard Sushant’s voice over the loudspeaker: “Amalendubabu, we know you’re harboring four extremely dangerous ghosts. If they were just any ghosts, we wouldn’t be here. But these four ghosts are Naxalites. They want to harm us. That’s why we’ve surrounded your house. You can’t save them. So come out. We’ll keep your house, your land safe. We’ll give you ten times its value. Come out. We’re responsible for ensuring your safety and taking you to your family.”

Amalendu didn’t get up from his chair. Meanwhile, Sushant started the countdown – eight, seven…

At that moment, Amalendubabu’s mind was flooded with memories of his mother’s face, Prashanta’s face, Dolli Chatterjee’s face, whom the young Amalendu had loved at one time. That night, the police hadn’t spared anyone from the United Front. The state spares no one, regardless of who’s in power.

As Sushant counted down – six, five, four – Amalendu stood up, holding a five-petaled jaba flower. What a strange flower! It had bloomed so beautifully, as if it hadn’t been seen in ages. Its beauty was pure as a children like a teenager’s dreamy face. Amalendu stared at the flower. Could his mother’s face be in this flower? Could Dolli’s face be here? Three, two, one… The countdown would end someday. Amalendu burst into a hearty laugh, a laugh he had never experienced before.

When he was taken away, Amalendu was almost unconscious. On the one hand, bulldozers were demolishing his house and CRPF personnel with machine guns were surrounding the area. On the other, Amalendu was laughing uncontrollably inside the prison van. This laughter, they say, didn’t stop even after that. People say he’s been possessed by a ghost. Some say that in his old age, he’s become a Naxalite. But who knows the truth?

x—x—x