পালিক ৮ Essay: Amit Shankar Saha On a Tramcar It was one May, when I needed to go to the University almost daily in the sweltering heat of the afternoon. Kolkata was baking then, especially because the Nor’westers had skipped the city. The heat was so intense that the coal tar on the road had melted and the iron of the tram lines shone despite the dust. The tramcar carried me every day in that month from Wellington Square to College Street, without complaining about the sun scorching its roof, although the people inside the tramcar grumbled and sweated. It was one of those early days when I first saw this pious-looking old co-passenger – a Muslim in a checked lungi, a starched kurta, and a white skull cap. He sat on the first seat from the entrance of the tramcar. The heat appeared to have little affected him. Outside, the air was simmering in a haze. So it seemed quite surreal that out of this haze, at the next stop, there emerged a ridiculously old man, who boarded the tramcar. This very old man was equally pious-looking, but was a Hindu, as could be discerned by his Vaishnavite cap that covered his head and ears. He tottered in his aged bones. All of a sudden the old Muslim man offered this much older man his seat and himself went further inside the tramcar to another seat. The same thing happened on the second day. The third day, the Muslim man purposely left beforehand the first seat at the entrance vacant for the older co-passenger and took a different seat. The hot summer afternoon had diminished the number of commuters and the tramcars were almost empty except for a few regulars. Then came one day when the seat, kept vacant by the Muslim man for the old Hindu man, was occupied by some other commuter before the tottering aged man had boarded the tramcar. This time the aged bones had to drag the body, as if in pain, further inside the tramcar to a different seat. The old Muslim man saw this. From the next day he made it a point to occupy the first seat at the entrance himself and offer it to the much older Hindu man when the latter would board the tramcar at the next stop. This went on for how many days I don’t know because after a month my University timings changed and I was not able to keep track of those two former co-passengers of mine. A year later, when it was again the month of May and Kolkata was yet again in the grip of a heat wave, one afternoon I got a chance to relive the experience of the old tram rides. As I boarded the tramcar I expected to find the old Muslim man at the seat next to the entrance. But the seat was vacant. At the next stop, I gazed intently at the simmering haze, hoping that the much older Hindu man will emerge from it to board the tramcar. But my disappointment compounded. Since then, many a times I have travelled on that same route, at various hours of the day, but have never again seen those two once-familiar old men. Now-a-days, whenever I give up my seat to any old person while commuting, I instinctively remember those two old faces. Those two old men have taught me how, transcending barriers, religious or others, there lies behind the infirmities of old age, the serene beauty of humanity.
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পালিক ৮
Born in Kolkata, Amit Shankar Saha is a PhD researcher in English Literature at Calcutta University. His interests lie in academic research as well as creative writing. He has contributed his stories, poems, and essays to several e-journals like Muse India, Cerebration, DesiLit Magazine, Boloji, Pens On Fire, Palki, etc. He is also a blogger.
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