Dibakara lost her mother a few days after he was born. He was her first child. His father Brundaban was a havildar in Orissa Police. Tall and well-built with a large drooping moustache, he was a heart broken man after his wife’s death. He was at a loss as to how to take care of such a small baby.
That was probably the time when the film, Gumrah, was released in different cinema halls which had a profound effect on the society. Films of that era glamorized, unlike these days, neither prostitution nor criminals but had some storyline; a few messages for the society and some entertainment through meaningful melodious songs.
After the death of Brudanban’s wife Sulochana, her younger sister Janaki agreed to take care of Dibakara, and ultimately she got married to her brother in-law, the cop. Along with her three children, Dibakara was taken care of by Janaki as if he was her own son. Young boy Dibakara could never know that Janaki was not her mother but a mausi-cum-foster mother. No one could make out the difference of attitude by the ‘step mother’ towards Dibakara during his childhood days.
In the afternoons, the ladies would either gather in the house of Janaki or under the mango orchard to gossip on different topics from cookery to torture of in-laws. None of the neighbours and friends knew about Janaki being the second wife of habildar Brundaban.
Janaki was beautiful and was matching in height with her husband who was near five-ten tall. Dibakara was entrusted with the duty of taking care of the cow at home and to do the marketing job which had some effect on his education but he never complained. He was good in studies and used to stand first in the class. Janaki’s friends were envious about her looks because she was a free-mixing lady with other police people.
One day, the topic of discussion came about a white cat ‘Chandini’ which used to play havoc in that colony. The white Chandini would stealthily drink milk from different houses of the colony. Once the lady of the house would come to know about it, she would throw it as the belief was one may suffer from diphtheria if a cat-contaminated milk is consumed. The other ladies from the colony would say the same and were worried as to how to get rid of that cat from the colony.
When everyone was talking about the spoiled milk due to ‘Chandini’, Janaki was keeping quiet.
“What do you do, Janaki, with the milk when ‘Chandini’ gets it contaminated?” A friend of Janaki asked. “Simple, I give it to Dibakara,” Janaki said.
That was a hot summer afternoon when most of the children were taking a nap inside the house. Dibakara could hear what her mother said. One day, he asked his class teacher about drinking milk contaminated by a cat. The teacher told him that there was a belief that drinking that milk may kill someone through diphtheria but books mention about blindness and other serious diseases about which, he said, he was not sure. Dibakara got confused and asked his father about the milk episode. That was when he came to know about his lost ‘mother.’
The next day, the whole colony was in a shock to hear that Dibakara has left the house and has gone to some distant place to escape from the clutches of the evil motives of his ‘mother’.
Years rolled by. The day Dibakara heard about the death of his father, he came running to put a flame to the body, it being a moral responsibility of the eldest son. By that time, he had become a police sub-inspector and was keeping track of what was happening in his family. Dibakara was shocked to know that his mother Janaki has become partially blind due to Toxoplasmosis — a cat transmitted disease — about which his father, with whom he kept in touch, had never told him.
“I wanted to harm you son, but God has punished me in a different way. Please excuse me I would remain as your mother till death.”A blind, sobbing Janaki said with tears rolling down from her lachrymal glands, like a hot spring.
Dibakara embraced his mother and said, “No problem, after all you are my mother and I am your son. Do not think of the past and repent over it.” There were tears on the face of those who watched the scene.
Art of Delay
By Dilip Cherian It’s telling that Punjab is still kicking the can down the road on appointing a regular Director...
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