UNDER THE LUNAR MOON

Constable Bejoy Talukdar stepped out of North Calcutta’s Shyambazar Police Station for the last time. He turned the ignition key of his jeep as his partner Subodh slid into the seat beside him. The clock on the dashboard read 6 pm. The skies had begun to darken and they could see the white contours of the moon forming in the horizon.

Subodh cast a sideways look at his senior. “How does it feel, Bejoyda?

In Calcutta an elder male's name is taken after suffixing the word 'da.' It means elder brother.

Bejoy answered with a hollow laugh. “Don’t know, Subodh. Feels strange that it will all end today.” He stopped the car in front of a large betel leaf shop in Hati Bagan.

“Come, Come, Bejoyda,” invited a fat man who squatted upon an elevated platform behind the counter. “Hey, Ramu! Serve the gentleman water,” he ordered his assistant who was only a boy. Ramu hurried to pour out two glasses of water from an earthen pot and held it out for the two visitors.

Bejoy patted Ramu’s head and addressed the fat man. “How are you, Gopal? And if your son spends the whole evening here, when does he study?”

“What to do, Bejoyda? I have a big family to feed and cannot afford to hire someone.”

Gopal extended an open packet of Gold Flake and Bejoy picked up a cigarette. He lit the cigarette and pointed the lighted end toward Gopal. “You’re ruining the boy’s future, I’m telling you.” Bejoy took out his wallet and extracted a two rupee coin and placed it on the counter.

“Please Bejoyda, not today!” Gopal said, folding his palms, his eyes moist.

“Are you mad, Gopal. You know I always pay.”

“I know, Dada. That is why I respect only you. Every constable and inspector from Shyambazar police station comes to my shop. Not a single person pays. They consider it their birthright. I don’t know what you are made of, Dada.

Elder Brother

“Come on, don’t get so emotional. Why do you want to spoil my record today? Come Subodh. “

“Whenever you are in this area, please come to visit, Bejoyda!” Gopal shouted from his shop as Bejoy and Subodh got into their jeep and drove away.

***

The radio transmitter inside the jeep buzzed. “Hello, Constable Bejoy.”

Subodh picked up the mouth piece. “Bejoyda is driving. I’m his assistant Subodh.”

“There is a complaint from Sonagachi. No. 30.”

Subodh shook his head. “Ok, we’re on our way.”

“Why are you worried, Subodh?” Bejoy asked him as the jeep inched its way through Calcutta’s notorious traffic jams.

“Today of all days! Sonagachi!”

“There’s nothing special about today, Subodh. I’m retiring today. That’s all. Life goes on.”

Reaching their destination, Bejoy parked his car in front of a tea stall. “Keep watch, Vinod!” he told the stall owner.

“Who will steal from a police car, Bejoyda?” Vinod said laughing.

“And make special tea. We are coming.”

Bejoy and Subodh navigated their way through the bylanes of Sonagachi, Calcutta’s red light district. A sea of painted faces and the stench of urine greeted them everywhere. They finally located House No. 30.

Subodh knocked on the door. “Open. Police.”

The door parted slightly and a scared face peered out.

“Have you filed a complaint?” Subodh asked.

“Yes. Please come in.”

Bejoy and Subodh marched into the house and stared in bewilderment at the sight in front. Some thirty women were packed into an uncomfortable room. Seeing the two policemen they started smiling and clapping. On a center table was a massive cake with the icing reading, “WE WILL MISS YOU BEJOYDA.”

Bejoy’s eyes welled with tears. It took him a few moments to finally find his voice. “There was no need for this, Mitali,” he addressed a plump woman bedecked in a gaudy sari and cheap imitation jewelry.

“Bejoyda, all these women felt safe because we knew you were on duty. From tomorrow, there will be no one. The other constables of your police station harass us and demand bribes and other favors. You know what favors.”

“Ok, ok, Mitali. Don’t worry. Subodh here is a good boy. He will be there.”

“You mean there was no trouble. You filed a false complaint to call us here!” asked an incredulous looking Subodh. The women greeted his outburst with peals of laughter.

Bejoy cut the cake amidst a lot of cheering and clapping.

***

“So, what do you think, Subodh?” Bejoy asked. They were seated inside the tea stall where they had parked their jeep.

Subodh sipped from his glass of tea. “About what, Bejoyda?”

“About a policeman’s job.”

“It is a thankless job. We try our best and everyday still feels that we take bribes.”

“Because we do, Subodh.”

“Not all, Bejoyda. Not you. Not me.”

Bejoy gave Subodh a quizzical stare.

“What, Bejoyda?”

“I know what you say behind my back, Subodh. You curse your luck that you are saddled with me.”

Subodh looked shocked and lowered his eyes. They sipped the rest of the tea in silence.

***

This time Subodh sat behind the wheel. He maneuvered the car through the thick traffic. “Can I ask you something, Bejoyda?”

“Yes.”

“You have served Calcutta Police for 40 years. Today, you will retire. You have always chosen to work in the evening shift. Your colleagues joke that you love the moon.”

“Yes. I do love the moon.”

“Is that why…”

Bejoy interrupted him. “Of course, not. I belong to a small village in Midnapor. When I was a boy, my Didi

Elder Sister

ran away from home. She wanted to work in the movies. While growing up, I heard people whispering that she has landed up in Sonagachi. I joined the police and worked the night shift for forty years because I wanted to search for her. I am still looking.”

Subodh shook his head. When he spoke, it was with much effort. “Bejoyda. What you heard about me is right. I’m sorry.”



Word Count: 998