The Oraon And The Divine Tree

  Chapter 2

  I

  Sensation of thrill coursed through Nimchand Maheshri, shortened Nimu, as the large headline of the notice written in red ink flashed across his vision and he got closer to read the content. His wife Urmila had reminded him of the colored bangles before Nimu took the morning bus for Jalpaiguri town to pay monthly installments of his loan-repayment to the bank. So after bank job he took a rickshaw for the bangle shop at Kadamtala. The bare bodied swarthy shopkeeper grinned to welcome his old customer and spread out a heap of multi-colored glass bangles on the mat. Nimu selected twenty varieties and handed over the sample bangle for measurement and the shop keeper started selecting bangles of appropriate size from the spread out lot. It would take some time, Nimu thought and he stepped aside and his vision fell right on the interesting notice pasted on the wattle wall of the shop. He got closer and read the ad again and again. The wasteland of the Rosemary tea garden would be sold out and willing buyers were to call on Srimanta Banerjee at his office at Dinbazar between 12 noon to 4 p.m.

  The ad triggered Nimu and he decided to meet the person right away and try for the land. The notice seemed to have been pasted very recently, but he should make haste before anybody else could get it. ‘It is not too late’, he thought. Nimu had learnt from his uncle, Meghraj Kalyani, a promoter and dealer of building materials at Siliguri, that the high road connecting Siliguri and Jalpaiguri through the forest, only a furlong north of the tea garden, would soon be constructed and clearing of forest had already started. So the price of land close to the road would soar to the sky in no time. Nimu, however, had no interest in land speculation. He had a plan to set up a saw mill on the plot of land.

  The Forest Department had already started selling through auction saal trees, on either side of the planned road, to the timber merchants. Transport cost of logs could be reduced if they were carried to the Siliguri center after sizing in a local saw mill. Meghraj had emphasized that a saw mill near the forest would be highly profitable and Nimu should try his best to buy some land close to the site. The notice elated Nimu and he thought that the marshy land could be a good site for the saw mill. There were a large number of good trees in the land. Selling out the timber of these trees would cover the cost of clearing and filling the lowland. ‘But who’s this Srimanta Banerjee and would he agree to sell the land to me at affordable price?’ Nimu said to himself. Moreover, some other buyer might have already booked it. Anyway he should at least try to explore the golden opportunity which had come his way like a gift from the heaven. So he resolved to call on Mr. Banerjee right away and try his luck.

  Nimu received the packed bangles, paid the shopkeeper and hailed a rickshaw for Dinbazar. Then he returned to the shop and asked the shopkeeper if he knew the advertiser.

  The shopkeeper smiled, ‘Oh, he’s the well known Gittuda,’ he lowered his voice, ‘the Gitttu mastan. You should know him. He’s now the owner of the land.’

  ‘Oh my god, it’s Gittuda!’

  Nimu rode the rickshaw in an ebullient mood. Gittu knew him well and if the land had not already been booked, he stood a fair chance. His father, Babulal Kalyani (like all business men of the Maheshri community he never used his family name while in business) used to pay every year a sumptuous subscription to Gittu’s Kali puza at Maskalaibari and in return was protected from all the minor mastans and illegal tax collectors. Nimu was amazed to think of the high position Gittu mastan had achieved.

  II

  Gittu’s father was a poor priest who used to eke out his living by performing rituals and puzas in the households and clubs around Maskalaibari and Raninagar. He was an honest person and could somehow get his three beautiful daughters married to educated Brahmins. Gittu, the only son, was the youngest of the siblings. From his very childhood, unlike his parents and sisters, he was notorious but his deceptive looks and smartness could easily befool anybody. He was fair, tall with sharp nose, luminous large eyes and wispy hair. He was more interested in body building, boxing and karate than studies and had been rusticated from school after he had assaulted a teacher in the exam hall. Thereafter he took to blacking cinema tickets at cinema houses in the town, formed a group of hoodlums and soon became a bully to local people. He helped a political party to rig elections and in return was protected by a renowned political leader from police complications. He initiated a Kali puza near his house and it was patronized by the political leaders and every year an MLA or minister inaugurated the ceremony. Many shopkeepers of the town and the adjacent villages used to pay heavy subscriptions for the puza and a considerable portion of the collection that was left after meeting the puza expenses was divided among the goons, Gittu appropriating the lion’s share.

  Soon Gittu gave up cinema ticket blacking and took to bootlegging and arranging illegal gambling. His income increased by leaps and bounds but he became a headache to his honest parents. His lifestyle injured the feelings of the dignified honest priest who with his wife became a permanent resident of an ashram at Rishikesh after bequeathing his house to Gittu.

  Gittu married Nirmala, the daughter of a respectable school teacher and the beautiful girl, by her love and strong personality, could soon bring Gittu under her command. Nirmala had fallen in love with Gittu at first sight and sought the permission and blessings of the would-be in-laws promising to mend their mischievous son. Gittu’s parents were overwhelmingly impressed by her mail and rushed back to Jalpaiguri and arranged for the marriage right away. They, however, could not keep Nirmala’s request to stay with them as it was no longer possible for them to return to the din-and-bustle of mundane life from the serenity of religious life in the ashram. Gittu loved Nirmala deeply and was faithful and at her insistence he gave up drinking and drugs. She earned the acclaim of many persons for her power to mend the notorious mastan, but bad people used to say that she knew witchcraft and art of bashikaran. Soon after marriage, Gittu dissolved his gang and started a partnership hotel business with a friend at Kolkata.

  A few years ago continuous labor trouble over huge amount of unpaid salaries and defalcation of provident fund money had destabilized production at Rosemary tea garden. The company had bribed the trade union leaders to help them overcome the crisis. But the latter, notwithstanding their utmost efforts, failed to resolve the problem because of the adamancy of two labor leaders Ganesh Tirke and Budhu Ekka who had considerable command over the laborers. They refused to heed the leaders and Albert Bhagat, a Christian Oraon lawyer, took up the matter to labor courts. At the advice of the helpless political leaders the owners sought help of Gittu who readily accepted the offer and within a month dead bodies of Tirke, Ekka and Bhagat were found in the lower shoals of Tista River and the political leaders were prompt in hushing up the case. The police recorded it as a boat mishap. As a reward Gittu demanded the marshy land which he knew would soon fetch a very high price and the owners readily transferred the ownership right of the land to Gittu’s name. Now Gittu had decided to sell out this land, buy the partner’s share of the hotel with the proceeds and get settled at Kolkata where he would be free from the hangover of his misdeeds here and this would also please his wife and parents.

  III

  Notwithstanding jerks and jolts of the rickshaw along the broken road Nimu got engrossed in deep cogitation. How these worthless naughty people get high up the ladder of riches and social status! Should he follow the crooked path of Gittu or remain satisfied with moderate achievements that ethical living could ensure? But why should he follow the mischievous path that leads to disquiet of mind? The achievements vanish abruptly as they are gained. You move up fast by unfair means and fall down fast to hell, Nimu said to himself. His father had always remained honest and satisfied with moderate riches and this ensured him mental peace. He advised his sons and daughters to be righteous and religious. He narrated mythical stories of Ravana and Duryodhana and their ruin in spite of enormous prowess, and he also cited examples of present day wealthy but dishonest businessmen who had to suf
fer ignominy in the end.

  Nimu himself had seen the miserable downfall of many nasty fear-rousing mastans. Vanta mastan

  was once the terror of their locality. He was at first a taxi driver. He had joined the Naxalites and after fall of the Naxalite movement he used his past political stigma to terrorize people and gradually became the leader of a notorious gang. He got the patronization of political leaders and he was confident that no body could do him anything. He even cared a fig for the district Superintendent of Police. One evening, he was informed that a member of his gang had been beaten up severely by the rival gang. He could hardly guess it was a trap and he at once took out the motor cycle and confidently raced up to the spot alone and was beaten to death.

  Similar was the fate of notorious Madhu, the son of a smuggler hotel owner. He was lusty and a menace to the girls of poor families. Nobody could do him anything as he used to bribe the police and help the politicians in elections. Once he broke into the house of a poor smith, tied the man with the cot and raped his young wife before his eyes. The police as usual refused to take up the FIR. The following month Madhu was returning home tipsy from the grog shop. When he came under the shadow of a large rain tree, he heard a whistle behind and as he whipped around he was beheaded by a chopper. After murdering the mastan the smith along with the blood-stained weapon surrendered himself to the police. Honesty is the best policy and crime leads to destruction in the long run, Nimu thought.

  It was not at all difficult for Nimu to find out Gittu’s office as the rickshaw puller knew it well and after alighting from the rickshaw Nimu in his simple attire and rustic demeanor hesitated to enter the two storied posh office.

  Nimu looked un-smart in his gaits and never cared for his attires. He was the youngest son of Babulal Maheshri. Two of his sisters, one younger than him, were married to businessmen at Coochbehar and none of his three elder brothers, all of whom were brilliant students, had any interest in their family business. The eldest was a chartered accountant at Siliguri, the second a college teacher at Kolkata, and the third a lawyer practicing at Jalpaiguri court. Nimu was not good at his studies and did not like the school but he had keen business sense and liked more to work at his father’s cloth shop. In the mid-term examination in history paper he was elated to find a question on Emperor Asoka which he had memorized the night before. However, while writing down the answer he mixed up everything and wrote stuffs like:

  “Emperor Asoka used to dig up wells by the side of the highways so that passersby fall unawares into the pits……..He had provided employment to many forest animals to the government hospitals……..He had sent out Lord Buddha to Ceylon by a Boeing aircraft to propagate religion.”

  The history teacher read out the ingenious script in the class inviting uproarious laughter and making Nimu the victim of ragging by the batch mates. Nimu stopped going to school. Babulal, who knew that this son was not for studies, was happy, all the more so because he needed a helping hand in his business as he had already been inflicted with hypertension and gout problems. He arranged for Nimu’s marriage to a girl from Bikanir and by the process got a good dowry that financed remodeling of the shop. Nimu soon took charge of the shop and his sincerity and performance was more than Babulal had expected.

  At the time of marriage Urmila was a sixteen year old beautiful girl and her affable and ingratiating nature soon won the hearts of Nimu and his parents. She could make good achars and pickles and exchanged them with neighboring Bengali girls for lessons in spoken Bengali. Nimu soon started saving money to expand his business but he was very cautious. He avoided speculative business much in vogue among the young businessmen and he always sought business advice from his shrewd uncle who loved him like his own son. Recently his uncle had advised him to procure some land near the timber forest and start a saw mill. So, this opportunity was a boon for him. But would Gittu with such a posh office heed to his request? The thought made his heart sink.

  IV

  But soon he braced himself up controlling, by deliberate efforts, his trembling feet and palpitating heart and stepped into the premise. The well decorated office with upholstered sofas, swinging chairs and beautiful paintings with a large photo of goddess Kali and the spiffy girls at the counter made his hear flutter again. The girls, who were busy gossiping, squinted at the crass yokel with an oddly worn dhoti, a long sleeved crumpled shirt, pox-marked silly face and parted hair soaked with amla oil emitting offensive odor. The older girl with a large chignon and chiseled face asked gruffly,

  ‘What do you want here?’

  ‘I… I…. want to meet Gittuda, I mean, Banerjee babu,” he stammered making the girls double up in laughter.

  The parrot nosed younger girl stopped laughing and glowering at his shabby countenance asked,

  ‘what do you want from sir? He does not give alms.’

  Nimu dredged out a silly smile and said politely, ‘no, no, I’ve not come to seek help. I want to talk with him about the tea garden land.’

  The older girl raised her eyebrows in amazement, ‘want to buy the land, have you any idea about the price? Okay, wait on the sofa. He’s likely to come in half an hour.’

  Finding him still fumbling the girl said harshly, ‘I’ve asked you to wait, haven’t you heard me?’ Nimu dropped on the sofa awkwardly making the girls burst into uproarious laughter once again. He remained seated with drooping eyes trying to ignore the girls and soon his mind drifted along to religious thought. Can a notorious person like Gittu earn the favor of goddess Kali simply by hanging her photos on the wall and offering her puza and showbiz devotion? Babulal used to say that ostentatious devotion springs from guilt complex and fear of punishment for unethical deeds.

  ‘Ar-reh Nimu, you’re here?’

  The lively address interrupted Nimu’s thought and he looked up to see Gittu standing in front, spruce in green stylish trousers, bright checkered shirt, a beautiful striped necktie and haircut like a Hindi film star. Nimu stood up obediently in his candid way and said ebulliently,

  ‘how are you Gittuda? I saw your ad about sale of tea garden land.’

  ‘Come upstairs to my chamber.’ He then turned toward the bewildered receptionists and snarled,

  ‘why have you left him seated here and did not send him right over to my chamber?’

  ‘Sir how could we know he’s a V.I.P? He dropped in incognito,’ the older girl mumbled.

  After Nimu had followed Gittu upstairs, the older girl gasped, ‘my god, how I could guess this simpleton to be someone important!’

  The other girl said, ‘these blood-sucking kaiyas are like this. They amass millions by deceiving poor people but move around like beggars.’

  Nimu followed Gittu to his chamber through a swing door and the latter motioned him to a chair across from him. This room too had on its wall a large photo of goddess Kali along with a wall clock and photos of Ramakrishna and Rabindranath. On the costly glass cover of the table there were a small folding calendar, a pen case and a couple of cover files. Two large olive colored armoires close to the back wall, each with life size mirror on the shutter, gave the room a gorgeous look.

  Gittu loosened his necktie, pulled it over his head and hung it on a hook projecting from the wall at the far end. He lighted a foreign brand cigarette by a Chinese lighter and queried, ‘how is Kalyaniji?’

  ‘Babuji has some gout problem and recently taking med for high pressure.’

  ‘So you’re now looking after the business?’

  ‘Not exactly. Babuji sits at the gaddi in the morning and I help him and I do all outside jobs.’

  ‘Now tell me if you’re interested in the land.’

  ‘That’s why I’ve come here. Has any other customer already approached you?’

  ‘I had just pasted the ad the day before yesterday. Only two or three have contacted me but none of them seem to be solvent parties. So if you’re interested, we may proceed.’

  ‘Certainly, I would buy it right away if the price is affordabl
e. Are you the owner or broker?’

  'I’m the owner now,’ Gittu smiled proudly. ‘I had helped the owners and they gave me the land as a reward.’

  ‘What’s your offer price?’

  ‘Only ten lakh plus registration cost. Don’t think it’s too high. You must have heard about the highway and land at the place now is gold.’

  ‘Oh ten lakh?’ Nimu gasped.

  ‘Considering future prospects, it’s dam cheap. If I could wait a year I could have easily sold it at thrice the price. But now I badly need the money. If you simply keep the land and resell next year you’ll get a lucrative profit.’

  ‘Then why are you selling the land right now?’

  ‘I badly need the money. I’ve a partnership hotel at Kolkata. The partner has decided to sell his share at ten lakh and not a single rupee less. If I don’t buy it right now he would have freedom to sell it out to some outsider and that may create problem for me. Besides I like to be the sole proprietor and move over to Kolkata with my family as early as possible. You know political change is likely in the next election and this may put me to trouble here. So the earlier I leave North Bengal the better. Nimu, like an elder brother, I advise you to buy the land without delay. You could do highly profitable business in the growing township.’

  Nimu hesitated a little and said politely, ‘Gittuda, you know me well. Can’t you fix it at eight?’ Gittu smiled affably, ‘yes I know you’re a very candid and honest person and I’d be the happiest

  person if I could reduce the price. But I badly need the ten lakh.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll pay your price. Now I don’t have money or check book with me and I’ll pay the necessary advance tomorrow.’

  ‘No advance is needed. Your word is enough. Meet me this week with your advocate brother and I’ll hand him over the preliminary papers for searching and all that. Better give my mobile number to Hemchand-da and he may talk over phone to me.’

  The papers were all clean and there was no problem in registering the transaction. Hemchand and Meghraj lent Nimu a part of the money required to buy the land including searching, registration and other expenses.

  Following local custom, work at the marsh was inaugurated by worship of the elephant god Ganesh, the serpent goddess Manasa and local apparitions. After the religious rituals, the laborers sang and danced merrily and thereafter haria was distributed among the laborers and they returned home tipsy. They did not forget to keep haria for the elephants in earthen vessels at different corners of the land.

  At night, scores of elephants came out to drink haria potted in large earthen vessels and trampled the bushes and thickets, broke off branches of trees making the land look cyclone devastated.

  V

  The next day before clearing started, fume of an herb was spread to chase away the snakes. The laborers started chopping off the bushes and branches of trees with axes, choppers and sickles and clearing the ground with hoes and spades. The birds on the trees fluttered away in panic and the animals in the burrows took shelter in the forest.

  The clearing started with much fanfare. The small bushes of fern, kalkasundi, akchhatti, datura and akanda could be easily rooted out and small branches of all the trees except the mango tree were all cut off and the bare trees looked like skeletons spreading out their bonny limbs awkwardly. The congeries of cut off twigs and branches were useless to Nimu and he gladly permitted the Rajbonshis of the nearby villages and madeshias of the tea garden to clear them off. Some took them for herbal use and some for fuel wood. Children hollered around and collected fruits of futki, akchhatti and telekucha and nests of birds. A madeshia laborer caught an ichneumon and took it along at daybreak for a good feast. Some snakes were also killed and madeshia laborers took them for eating after chopping off their heads.

  At night, against the enchanting glare of the moon, the mango tree stood like a colossus, lonesome and morose, all his dear companions being annihilated mercilessly by barbaric invaders.

  The following day, the laborers started felling the bare trees and the logs were carried off by open vans and small trucks to a saw mill at Siliguri. In a few days the lowlands and ditches were filled with sand carried by vans from the river bed and now the place looked neat and refreshed.

  While making payments to the laborers in the evening, Nimu asked them when they would start felling off the giant mango tree. At this the laborers looked panic stricken and an aged Rajbonshi laborer took Nimu aside and told him the legends that had deified the tree and emphasized that no laborer of the locality dare fell it.

  Nimu became flummoxed. How could he set up the saw mill with the tree at the middle? For the next few days he scoured through all the nearby villages but no laborer agreed to perform the sacrilegious job. Nimu too was impressed by the legends and while he related the stuff to Urmila, she too got panicked and suggested him to wait and resell the land after price increase. Nimu got disheartened. Would his long cherished dreams be shattered after so much toil? He thought it would be better to seek advice of Meghraj.

  Meghraj assured Nimu that he would collect laborers from Bihar and Nepal through some labor contractors but it may take time. While Nimu mentioned the legends his uncle laughed and said, ‘they are simply cock and bull stories fabricated by the rural folk’. He explained to Nimu that this was but a rare species of mango tree that grew at some remote areas of northern Bihar. The marshy land was a site for safari camps of the Raikut kings of the Baikunthapur estate and it was quite likely that the tree had grown from some mango seed thrown out by the hunters in course of their safari camping.

  Meghraj’s argument was convincing to Nimu who returned home triumphant. I’m not going to set up the mill immediately, Nimu said to himself. I’ve already spent much of my savings to buy the land. Furthermore I’m to repay loans. So I cannot buy machineries for the mill right now. So I may wait until the Bihari and Nepali laborers from outside are contracted. Suddenly an idea struck him. Last month Urmila had painted her hands with beautiful tattoos. Nimu’s mother Lakshmi Devi had paid the godna- expert madeshia girl Saiba a higher fee than usual. She, later on, told Nimu that the condition of the girl was miserable. Her husband Etwa had lost his job at the closer of the tea garden he used to work in and the company did not pay the dues of unpaid salary and provident fund. She had three children and old widower father-in-law. The husband and wife were now eking out living by performing odd jobs.

  The recollection made Nimu ebullient and hopeful. He would offer unemployed Etwa the job of a permanent porter in the shop if the latter agreed to fell the tree and to come out of financial problems Etwa would gladly accept the offer for sure. Next morning he took a rickshaw for the shanty of the laborer.

  VI

  The shack with thatched overhanging roof stood on a small plot of occupied railway land. The rickshaw could not move along the narrow track leading to the house and Nimu had to walk over to the house and while he called the laborers name aloud, Etwa and Saiba came out with smiling faces revealing their ivory-white well-set teeth and were astonished to sea the rich Marwari at their doors. The children also jostled around their mother. Saiba who wore a red bordered white pandhat, the sari worn from above the breasts up to the knees with neck and legs bare, brought up a bamboo mora but hesitated to ask a rich Marwari like Nimu to sit on it. Nimu smiled affably to watch her embarrassment and promptly took the mora from her hand and sat right down on it. Then he went forthright to the job stuff. The faces of both of them were brightened to hear about the job and they were also a bit puzzled why shethji himself had come all the way over to their house to give the information. He could as well have sent for Etwa to his gaddi through some servant. Both of them, however, were delighted at the golden offer and thought that God had heeded to their prayers.

  Nimu, however, was honest enough to disclose unequivocally the string attached to the offer and the reason why he could not find local laborers for the job. This made the faces of Etwa and Saiba pale. The tree was planted by the deities.
How could Etwa fell down such a sacred tree? Saiba said unequivocally,

  ‘Sethji, we are poor, but considering the well being of my kids I cannot let my husband fell a divine tree and incur the curse of the deities. You ask us to do anything else and we would oblige, but not felling the sacred tree.’

  Utterly disappointed, Nimu made for the rickshaw and noticed Etwa’s old father Dhanesh beckoning him from behind. He stopped short and Dhanesh coming close to him asked straight away, ‘If I myself perform the assignment would you offer my son the job?’

  ‘Certainly, but at this age, can you fell a vast tree?’

  ‘Yes I still have the prowess. I’m the best axe-man around here. I’ve lost strength with age no doubt but I could compensate with skill and technique.’

  ‘Have you seen the tree?’ Nimu queried.

  ‘Hundreds of times,’ Dhanesh smiled. ‘I’d been an employee of Rosemary garden and used to see the tree everyday. Then there was labor trouble and I was among the retrenched. Fortunately my son then got a job at another garden. Now he too has lost it.’

  ‘But people say it’s a divine tree.’

  ‘I don’t buy it. Dharmesh and Singbonga reside in saal trees, not in mango trees. Moreover, my wife was a Birshait Munda and their family influenced me to become a Birshait in faith and since then I don’t subscribe to the tribal superstitions. I, however, stick to the basics of sarna to love nature and plants.’

  ‘If you love plants, how could you kill a vast tree?’ Nimu said jokingly.

  ‘You know the thieves, sponsored by the politicians of the ruling party, are destroying the entire forest. What additional harm could be done by felling an isolated mango tree?’

  ‘Better consult your son and daughter-in-law before taking final decision.’

  ‘No need. I’ll do the job anyway if you promise my son’s job.’

  ‘Then come to my gaddi tomorrow and I’ll take you right over to the spot.’