Painful childhood

We all seven brothers and sisters, used to haul water, in buckets of varying sizes as per our capacity from the street tap to the second floor. We were mortified by shyness and the exercise was very painful for us.


As we seven brothers and sisters grew up, our imporvishment also grew proportionately.
The meager income of father becoming smaller and smaller to fill the increasing size of our stomach and our other needs.

One day I rushed home at lunch break to be told by my mother that there was nothing to eat.

Notice from landlord to quit, electricity disconnection. Perpetual disturbed sleep because of ever increase in the number of transport companies and their business in the locality. The whole night our building would vibrate shake and our ears would drum with terrible noises. With the added terror of the gonads in the area.

One day I was just entering the main gate of our building when one kalloo a vendor below told me “your father is being beaten up by Aftab and others। Near medrasa Nidae Islam” I rushed to the spot and burst into cry. I saw my middle aged sick father who was recovering from T.B bleeding profusely from his mouth sitting in a corner. Everyone knew what his or her beating was like. This man had committed scores of murder. The gang to which this man belonged had committed scores of murder in the locality and maimed thousands of people permanently by then. The same man i.e. Aftab and his accomplice Noorul Abshar pinned Quasim the twelve year servant of my neighbour on the sidewalk below and pulled out all his hairs from his head, in full view of people .It was 11 am in the morning people were milling around every where and rubbing shoulders due to office rush. Quasim shrieked madly every time and the goon burst into laughter.

The goons owed allegiance to Congress(I) under Marxist rule. They were by God licensed killers. Their pet and tried method was to batter their victims with wooden planks or batons and later burn the weapon of offence. No one ever went to police. A few of them did and met with their sure and painful end. There were some who wrote to the chief minister and ministers but there never never was a response.

Every day they bought some one and tortured him for hours on ends nearly the whole night near C.M.O High School building around which they had grabbed properties of poor people. They had their dens in those buildings. They had put up a signboard of Mr. Somen Mitra. The Member of Parliament from Kolkata. Many of the tortures would take place in his presence. Mr. Somen Mitra attended the office daily for two hours in the evening.

The shriek and heart rending whimper of the victims would travel far and wide. When the victim would fall unconscious they would throw buckets of water on him and then resume the beatings, most often the exercise would start after midnight and continue till morning. In the morning we’d find the street or side walk abnormally clean. Because the goons had washed the spot of vomit, faeces and blood.

It was heart of the city flanked by cheek jowl tall buildings and residential quarters, flanked by broad streets roads and tall buildings and medrasas mosques etc with local police station Bow Bazaar police station 5 minutes walk, Calcutta Medical College and University, Police Head Quarters, Government Secretariat at most within 15-20 minutes walk.

Calcutta Police beat officers would in their beat pass by the spot। Police jeeps and vans would pass by the spot umpteen number of times but would never interfere, matter of factedly.


Mostly in the evening, quite too often the area would erupt with explosions. The goons would play bomb game with other groups of neighboring localities I/e Eden hospital road, Bow bazaar satta group, .Rabindra Sarani. They would throw crude bombs here and there madly, their threats and abuses rising to crescendo. The flames would rise a storey high.. But interestingly there never was an occasion when any of them received any injuries. It was mostly the unsuspecting passer byes squatters or children who received injuries or died in the blast. Some time the exchange of bombs would take place across Chitranjan Avenue the most important road Motorcade of dignitaries would pass through the रोड,.