There was an eerie feeling about the town of Duliajan, when I entered it. Located at the North Eastern part of Assam, this was the town I was born and brought up in. This visit was, however, the first time in ten years that I had made to my hometown.
I looked around, aghast. The once-charming houses of Duliajan were turned into ruins. It seemed as if all the colours of Duliajan had been sucked out and it stood before me – lifeless. Eight years back, the town met with an accident. Heavy leakage from gas pipes burnt out the whole town. Many survived, others died. And now, I was back on official work.
I work for an Oil Company. So, when a chance of visiting Duliajan came in, I grabbed it, and there I was.
A sudden halt of my car brought me back from my daydream. I looked to my right and saw a burnt bungalow.
“Strange! That didn’t exist before.” I said to the driver. He didn’t reply. He started the car and drove on till we reached the only remaining part of the town – the guest house, which was on the outskirts.
“Hello! I am from OIC, Mumbai. I’m here on official purpose.” I conveyed to the Receptionist. She nodded, smiled and gave me the keys of Room No. 13. The room was spotless clean. I freshened up and lied on the bed to take a quick nap. It was evening, but I was too tired.
Suddenly, there was an electricity failure and the window panes started fluttering with the strong winds.
“Mitakshara”
I sat upright on the bed and looked around. Maybe it was the wind. No one knew my name out here. Next morning, I found my driver missing. I had to go to the field site on foot. As it was not too far away, the idea was feasible.
On my way I stopped in front of the burnt bungalow. It has some kind of an attractive force that I couldn’t deny. I went inside. No, there weren’t any cobwebs. It was rather clean, though time had worn out its walls.
“Mitakshara”. I heard it again. It wasn’t the wind. “Mitakshara”. I went through the door and into the bedroom, half consciously. It was so dark. Hardly any ray of light reached inside. Out of the blue, a cloud started to take shape. Horrified, I rushed out of the door, and outside the bungalow.
I couldn’t concentrate on work that day. “I’d be leaving tomorrow morning and everything will be fine.” I repeatedly told myself.
On returning from work, however, I couldn’t contain myself and went straight into the bungalow, to where the cloud had formed. “Mitakshara! Please don’t leave me. I need your help.” I looked around to see a half burnt face of beautiful lady, floating in the air. I shouted in fright. I tried to rush out, but my legs were somewhat rooted to the ground. The wind blew hard. Enough to shut the doors and windows.
“What do you want?” I shouted
“Your forgiveness” replied the face.
“My forgiveness? But why?” I enquired once again.
“The pipe that had leaked eight years ago – well – it was because of me. I was a gold digger. So when my friends, out of a prank, told me that I’d find five lakhs beneath the ground, I went there straight away. While digging, I accidently stroke the pipe, making a slit in it. I freaked out. I could have told someone. I could have got it repaired. But I was ignorant. It was an isolated place, and so, thinking it to be my golden chance, I rushed away. Soon the nearby areas caught fire. It spread. So much that it got out of hands. Many people fled. Few tried to control the fire. All of them died. Guilt engulfed me. So, I jumped into the fire. Now, I’m compelled to stay on earth because my sins don’t let me got to heaven, yet my sacrifice won’t send me to hell.” She was crying by the time she finished.
I cooled down. “What will my forgiveness do for you?” I asked, slightly angry at her.
“If you forgive me, I’ll be free to go to heaven.” She replied. “But why me?” I asked yet again.
“Don’t you see,” she voiced out quite loudly, “You are the last remaining daughter of Duliajan. Those who fled were aged people or weren’t born here. You are the only one left who was born in this town. Your forgiveness will release me.” said she.
I was in a fix. “She is the reason my people got finished. She is the reason why Duliajan is not Duliajan anymore. She was the reason for all the doom. Why should I forgive her?” I thought and said –
“Yes. I forgive you.”
Her tearful eyes sparkled with a new found happiness and relief, and she disappeared.
When I came out the house, everything seemed bright. I felt myself rise from the ground and sour among the clouds.
“Mitakshara! Mitakshara, get up. You’ll be late for work.” Said my mother, back home in Mumbai.
