Romu

Romu peeps over the broken brick wall. He could now see the dilapidated house clearly. It’s not even twenty steps from the spot where Romu stands. The house looks haunted.

The once-upon-a-time painted walls of the large house have now turned old and shabby with patches and damp here and there. Romu’s eyes fall on the huge collection of dried leaves and dead plants beside the house.

It seems more like a forest than a garden! Romu thinks to himself.

Suddenly, two men come out through the door of the house and stand in the little yard in front. They look strong and sturdy. Both of them wear the same clothes — white dhoti and white kurtas, reaching up to their knees.

The first man carries a jute mattress under his arms and the second man has a small potli with him. As the first man lays down the mattress on the bare ground in the yard, the second man sits on it and keeps his potli beside him.

As Romu continues to stare, a third man comes out from the house and walks up to the two men sitting on the mattress. He says something that makes the two men on the floor stand up in surprise. Romu strains his ears to catch bits and pieces of their conversation but finds no luck.

I wonder what they talk about! Every day I see these men chatting here. Who are they? Why are‒?

Romu’s thoughts get interrupted. He feels a warm touch on his right shoulder. He turns his face to see a man with a big moustache looking at him with annoyance.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” says the man in a harsh tone.

“I . . . I am Romu. I was just . . .”

Romu struggles to continue his words.

“Come with me!” says the angry man.

Romu follows him with fear in his eyes and anxiety in his heart. They both enter through the broken brick wall and walk up to the three other men, standing near the jute mattress.

“Shankar da, this boy was hiding behind the wall and listening to you all!” the man complains.

Romu looks at the three men. The strongest among them comes close to Romu and examines him from top to bottom.

“What are you doing here?” asks Shankar da, in a deep voice.

“I . . . I was . . . just watching!” Romu replies feebly.

“Have you come here before?” asks another man from the group.

“Let me talk to him, Ashish!” Shankar da glares at that man.

“Yes . . . a few days back,” came Romu’s reply.

“What have you seen?” Shankar da continues while scratching his chin and squinting his eyes.

“Actually, every day when I pass by this place, I see all of you exercising and wrestling in this yard. I love how you build your body and do breathing exercises!” says Romu.

“Have you seen anything else? Do you know what we do?” asks the man who caught Romu.

Romu lowers his face. His eyes fall on the jute mattress. He notices holes and tears on different spots in the mattress. Putting both his arms behind him, Romu starts scratching the ground with the sharp nail of his left foot.

“Yes, I know,” Romu speaks in a low voice. “You make bombs and talk about driving the Britishers out of this country!”

Shankar da raises his eyebrow and nods at Romu’s reply.

“Shankar da, what is he saying?” asks Ashish.

“How old are you?” Shankar da asks, tilting his head a little.

Romu straightens his body, uplifts his posture and replies, “I have just turned 17 last month!”

The man standing beside Ashish comes closer to Shankar da and whispers something in his ears.

Shankar da smiles and mumbles, “ Thanks, Manik!”

“Shankar da, are you thinking of him as a replacement of Ajay?” asks the man who had found Romu behind the broken wall.

Romu’s eyes glisten. “Will you take me into your group? I can run very fast! Maa says that I have spring attached to my legs!”

“Listen! Our movement is not about running fast, okay? It’s much more than that,” Ashish looks at Romu, his eyes full of irritation. “Shankar da, we can’t have him take Ajay da’s place. He’s too young!”

“So what? We need brave-hearted youths like him. Boys like him are our future! Only they can free our motherland from the shackles of British rule,” replies Shankar da with his head held high.

Romu looks at Shankar da with his eyes full of respect and reverence for the man. He goes near Shankar da and touches his feet.

“Welcome to our group. Tomorrow, you will be going on a mission with Ashish. We have pledged to put an end to the life of Albert Dorrington, the district judge of this area. He is responsible for the death of one of our close friends,” says Shankar da, placing his palms on Romu’s right shoulder.

Looking at Shankar da with awe, Romu asks, “But how will I help? I can’t do anything except run fast!”

“You don’t need to do anything. Just be there with Ashish. After you come back from tomorrow’s mission, I’ll teach you and guide you in every step,” says Shankar da.

—

Romu wakes up very early the next morning. He has his bath, wears his favourite set of kurta-pyjama and combs his hair as neatly as possible. Seeing his son’s changed habits, Romu’s mother stares at him, standing at the door.

Romu comes to his mother, smiles at her and touches her feet. His mother looks at him with curious eyes.

“Why are you getting ready? Is there something special today?” his mother asks all her questions at once.

“Yes, maa. Today is a very very special day for me. I will tell you everything once I come back,” says Romu with a faint smile on his face.

“May you live long, my son!” says his mother, placing his hand on Romu’s head.

As soon as Romu takes the turn from the ‘Khaddar Store’, he spots Ashish waiting for him near the broken brick wall. As the two of them walk slowly towards the district court, Romu observes his companion closely. Wearing a simple cotton kurta and a khadi dhoti, Ashish da continues to walk in bold, confident steps. He carries a small bag on his right shoulder that moves in a rhythmic way with every step that he takes.

After a walk of around 10 minutes, they reach the High Road. Romu looks at the large, red building standing at the end of the road.

“That’s the session court. Judge Dorrington’s car will come from that direction,” says Ashish da, pointing his fingers at the gate of the court.

Romu continues to stare. He feels his heart thumping against his chest and his hands becoming cold, even in this heat of mid-August.

After waiting for a while, Romu sees a black car coming towards them.

“That’s him!” cries Ashish da.

As the car approaches near, Romu sees Ashish da taking out something from his bag.

“Hold this,” instructs Ashish as he opens the newspaper covering and takes out the bomb.

Within a wink of an eye, Ashish tears the covering and hurls the bomb targeting the car. A huge explosion blind Romu’s vision and robs his hearing ability for a few moments.

“Run!” cries Ashish as he rushes to the pavement nearby trying to save himself from the police bullets. Puzzled and bewildered, Romu sees a bicycle parked nearby and hides behind it.

As the police posted outside the court continue to shower bullets on the attacker, Romu sees Ashish falling on the ground and failing to cover himself.

“Ashish da!” Romu tries to call his friend but words deny coming out of his parched throat.

Romu throws the bicycle and comes out of his hiding place. He runs towards the pavement and throws himself to save Ashish da from the attack of the unceasing bullets.

As he tries to cover Ashish da, a bullet hits him on his chest, shedding a pool of blood from his young body. Romu falls on the pavement. His forehead strikes against the hard and dusty concrete.

Romu feels dizzy. Blood flows out from his veins and soaks the dry and colourless pavement of the unknown street. Romu struggles to breathe as the second bullet strikes near his left ear and weakens him further.

Blood oozes out from his body. Romu’s tired eyes look at the sunny sky. The scorching rays of the sun dazzle him as his eyes close to welcome the perpetual darkness.