The English translation of a novel ‘Maharaja Dahir’ authored by Kolkata-based renowned novelist Debasree Chakraborti in Bengali language. The novel has been translated by Rajesh Giri
Lahore
Year 2021
It’s a quarter to five; now the cafe is slowly getting crowded. Several people are now sitting around Dr. Iqbal and Fiza, and many of them are also watching them. It is not clear whether there is any reason behind this notice. All eyes are now suspicious to Dr. Iqbal; if not stepped carefully, one mistake can end everything. Fiza is staring into the coffee cup placing her palm on her cheek, as if all the freedom of her life is hidden in this coffee cup. Today with great difficulty they were able to spend about five hours together. Fiza, Looking at Iqbal, said, “Our Buddha baba used to say, sometimes God appears in human form to help us. We can’t recognize him, but he wards off all our problems from our life, I think you are the God in my life.”
Dr. Iqbal wiped his hands with tissue paper and said, “Fiza this is not safe for us to stay here anymore. It’s five o’clock; it’s time for your car to arrive. Another thing, Basir Ahmed’s health may be bad today; if he is sick, then bring him to Lahore Central Hospital and admit him under Dr. Razzak.”
Fiza Leaning towards Dr. Iqbal said, “Dr. Razzak! City Hospital. Right?”
—yes, And you yourself will be a little careful today, if there is any problem just call me.
That day Dr. Iqbal left Fiza in front of the library gate and went to a magazine shop nearby. Fiza stood silently looking at the road. She was told to not look at Dr. Iqbal at all. Dr. Iqbal felt that he had done something very wrong by meeting with her in such a populated place twice. After a while Fiza’s car came and Fiza got into the car and left. After entering the flat that night Dr. Iqbal did not find Sabir Bhai. There is a lot of pressure on Sabir Bhai today, when the responsibility of such work comes, then what is day and what is night—no difference.
When it was eleven o’clock at night, Dr. Iqbal sat down to have his dinner. It is too late to come for Sabir Bhai. He just started to have dinner, at that time, a mobile phone rang inside Sabir Bhai’s room. He is not at home, but the ringing of mobile phone is coming out of his room. There are many such signals in this world; if you understand and use each signal properly, the goal will be fulfilled. Dr. Iqbal quickly stood up and ran towards Sabir Bhai’s room. The sound is coming from the drawer of the side table of the bed. Dr. Iqbal quickly opened the drawer and found the mobile. It was Sabir Bhai on the other side of the phone call. He said, “Basir Ahmed had a heart attack on his way home this evening, Fiza took him to the central hospital and admitted to Dr. Razzak. Initially a minor heart attack was diagnosed.”
—Where is Fiza?
—I called you to tell that. Fiza was in the hospital since evening. Basir Ahmed was admitted to the ICU, while Fiza sat on a bench outside the ICU. I was away. Operation of Fiza is scheduled for tomorrow i.e. Friday morning, I anticipated that an attack might come on her.
The one whose operation is due tomorrow, and she has been waiting in the hospital alone at night without a guardian, is the easiest opportunity to prey on. Fiza was sitting alone in the corridor of the hospital when a woman wearing a black burqa arrived shortly after 10:00 p.m. As soon as the lady reached Fiza, a black cloth bag fell from her hand at Fiza’s feet and some papers fell from inside the bag get scattered, some papers also landed on Fiza’s feet, Fiza being very worried was helping the lady to pick up the paper. I knew that they would not harm Fiza now and it was not right for me to come in front of them at this time.
— Don’t we have any of our people deployed there?
—Yes, many of our agents are in Lahore Central Hospital, handling their work around the scene at that time. Some were preparing the cabin for Fiza, some were waiting with stretcher for the right time for action.
Fiza fell unconscious on the floor while sorting out the papers with the lady. Immediately the lady started shouting and calling people, and immediately some people came with a stretcher and took Fiza to the cabin prepared for her. Half an hour before the arrival of this burqa cladded woman, an old gentleman came with a packet, handed over to Dr. Razzak. One of our agents secretly took pictures of that old man with hidden camera, with which the face of a terrorist named Ahmed of Tharparkar was found to match. Razzak was supplied with a bomb.
—Sabir Bhai, I am very worried, there shouldn’t be any damage to Fiza?
—Look, it’s not right to say so much on the phone, you won’t be upset at all; the path which we follow to work, there is no place for emotions, you only do what you are asked to do. You have to deliver ten million rupees to Basir Ahmed’s bungalow on Zafar Iqbal Road by tomorrow evening; the money is kept in a big apple basket in the cylinder cabinet in our kitchen. Tomorrow at 6 o’clock in the evening someone will bring a car, with him you will go to Basir Ahmed’s bungalow along with Abu Talib to deliver the money to Basir.
But Basir Ahmed and Fiza are in the hospital, will Abu Talib be agreed to meet me in the bungalow?
—He has already reached that bungalow tonight. There is a tab kept in the drawer of your bedside table, there are some video files saved inside the folder named Iqbal; some instructions are provided for you, watch the videos and delete the file thereafter; let me disconnect the call now, see you in time.
My Grandpa used to say, “Food never be wasted, food is Lakshmi, how neatly one approaches with the food plate, the more beautiful and stable his life becomes. His grandfather brought him to this difficult path, this old man has been controlling his life since the first day. Panchajanya is like the Brahmastra to Dadu, through which he continues to fight an invisible enemy. Grandpa said that after coming to this country from Bangladesh, he had to spend days without food in the refugee camp; the terrible death of his family and the terrible scenes of fighting over the corpses between jackals and dogs still do not let him sleep at night. The success of Mission Dahir Sen will fulfil grandpa’s life. It is as if he has been carrying a dead body on his chest all his life, until and unless that dead body is cremated at the end of his life, my grandfather will not be able to sleep peacefully. (Continues)
Click here for Part-I , Part-II, Part-III , Part-IV , Part-V , Part-VI , Part-VII, Part-VIII , Part-IX , Part-X, Part-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI
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Debasree Chakraborti is a renowned novel writer of Bengali language. Based in Kolkata, West Bengal, India, she has done Master’s in Modern History from the Kolkata University, and authored some thirty books, mostly the novels, with historical perspective and themes. Her most recent novel is ‘Maharaja Dahir’ that covers the history of Sindh from 662, the year of first attack on Sindh by the Arab armies till date.
Rajesh Giri, born in Kolkata, had his early schooling from Kolkata and then from Medinipur—a village in Bengal. He graduated from Calcutta University with Physics and Maths and Master’s from Burdwan University in 2016. Now he is associated with Adhdhyaan educational institution teaching Physics. History enthusiastic Rajesh Giri is particularly interested in the ancient civilization of India and other regions like Egypt, Mesopotamia, and North America. He loves traveling.
