Never before Asmi had set foot on the temple, she had never seen the people gathered in front of the Durga Puja idol; she came from Siliguri, her native land, for a visit in the time of Durga Puja, watching both the mountain and Puja. The cold breeze was compelled to fasten both hands in her jacket, and as the days came to an end with flickering last night, she kissed the sky and broke into dozens of different rays. She tried to pick up the one that could illuminate her mind. She sat on a big rock and decided on the temple and surfing her mobile phone to pick up the contact of Rudro.
-Rudro… Rudro!
-Where are you, Asmi?
-In the middle of the last rays of the days, surrounded by the mountain.
-But I need you! Asmi moved her mind to the far-east road, which winds to the market.
Someone was asking about something hurriedly. He tried to find out the originator of the voice.
-Asmi Asmi, I will call you later.
Though it was unseen, she recognised that it was the voice of a boy. The unseen voice was calling for something, and all the householders were running from their house and pronouncing the same name like a chorus.
-Suresh
Asmi could see the boy who was running from the down sloping of the road. He seemed to be confused, and he tried to address every one of them. He was running till the last slope of the road started where he would vanish, but how could Asmi leave him till her queries would be quenched? She followed him silently but hurriedly. She saw the boy went to every house where the house owners were waiting for him with a floral arrangement, including flowers. Picked out a big plastic packet where still few flowers were kept and asked them to put the flowers in. They did.
He visited almost 10 households in picking up the flowers and piled those in the packet. Asmi felt queer when another six boys of his age joined him running from the lower end of the road. They also got one plastic packet in each hand, and they have already collected the flowers. It seemed that it was a joy and responsibility of the incident in collecting all those flowers.
But what for? What for?
In the meantime, Asmi was collecting the visuals of collection of flowers by the boy as soon as mobile phone ranged again.
-Rudro …. Rudro …
The boy was in a hurry to collect flowers as the drum beat started in Kalibari for Sandhi Puja. When she thought about returning to the temple, the boys gathered together and whispered with one another for some quick discussion. Then they were running towards the temple, and Asmi had no choice but to follow them. They scattered with two boys in a group and took the position beside three entrance doors on the outside of the temple. Asmi did not reach all the entrance doors but kept an eye on the door of the main entrance.
In quick succession of time they wore dhoti and kurta and filled that they were refreshed with a recent bath. The boys were sitting opposite to one another on the foot of the door, and whenever any of the girls were entering the temple, one of them would put one fresh flower on the both feet of her and then put it on the forehead and kept it in another packet as a safe custody or as a sacred thing to be kept. It seemed that they were performing the religious rituals, undermining the age of the girls. One of the boys was doing the rituals, and the other was collecting the flower and putting it in the packet in a very sacred manner. Maybe they would be offering it to God. While they were collecting those flowers, the faces of the boys became brightened up. During this time of Sandhi Puja, usually the local people gathered there, and they seemed quite used to it. A few of the visitors or tourists went there, and they were very surprised at the gesture of the voice. Sometimes they could ask them to stop it, but the local people came to their rescue as they smiled at those who denied and made them understand the sacredness of this. Even on behalf of the boys, they requested them.
Asmi could not enter the temple, but she saw from a distance how it would be concluded. She has not counted the timing, but when the boys packed up their packets, she felt that the task was over. Again, her mobile rang- Rudro… Rudro.
All the boys again gathered at the east entrance for the main entrance of the temple; they had not spoken in your words but looked at each other and started to run. Asmi could not stand alone; she had to find out what these boys could do next. She also ran. The boys were running towards the east from the temple and crossed the local households and stepped up at the feet on the nearest mountain. They could not stop till they saw the oak tree. They sat on the ground and opened this plastic packet. They squatted on the soil and took the flowers one by one from the packet and decorated the feet of the oak tree like the decoration done at the time when we prayed to God. Asmi somehow felt that the quiet tree was waiting for this.
Like a prayer, they folded their hands and chanted something that Asmi could not comprehend. She could not resist herself but moved towards them and stood behind them quietly as a silent listener. As the boys completed their prayer and started to move out of it, they stopped watching Asmi.
-Why?
-What?
The boys were very surprised that someone was following them. When she tried to ask the question, they also asked another question to her.
-What are you doing?
-Why ?
When Asmi could not but stare at the tree and the flowers, which were decorated to make it as god, one of the boys started to speak.
-Do you want to know about it?
-Yes . Isn’t it odd?
They have started to tell her.
-A few years ago, during an evening like this, a small girl of our age of ten returned from
the jungle after collecting the stalk; a brute man, or Asur, tortured her and strangled her to death. Her body was discovered at the feet of this tree. But after the incident, some said that they had heard the cry of the girl. For days it was heard by a few, when the Pujari of the temple suggested paying floral tribute on the same day when the girl was lynched to death by the boys of this mohalla who are reaching 10. But before that, they have to collect the flowers after touching the feet of every girl or woman, because otherwise those flowers could not be called sacred.
-Sacred!
-Yes, we don’t want to be the killer of another woman. How can we? My mother, my sister!
Only respect…
The boy could not complete the sentence and left the place instantly. But Asmi carried the same word from where they had left.
-Respect…respect… again, the mobile phone ranged.
When she thought of responding, she was unexpectedly watching the Pujari, or the priest, of the temple approached the oak tree with folded hands. The priest squatted on the stone as a prayer was being made. Closing his eyes he chanted something. When he returned, he saw Asmi.
-Are you a tourist?
Yes, but…
-I have seen they are telling you the reason. But still, I can hear the cry of the girl.
-Girl! The cry!
—Yes, sometimes her voice, sometimes others… God knows when the cry of the innocent will stop. Stop. Stop. But who will hear… Who will tell everyone to respect ….
Without uttering any word, he just left, leaving Asmi in the bond of the word “respect’. The light breeze made the flowers move a little bit, and Asmi felt that she also heard the sudden cry of a girl.
-Asmi
-Rudro
-Why are they crying?
The last 3 words she was muttering- respect, respect, and respect, but Rudro still waited for her reply.