Gurmeet Singh Bekraar
It was during the preparatory holidays that he decided to go home. Exams were far away towards the end of the May. He hailed from Bihar and his father was a colonel in Army. The person I am referring to was Jagmohan Sahay- my room partener.
Hostel Life provides plethora of opportunities to observe life from close quarters. Away from home, away from family in an alien world, monotonous solitude propels you to expand your vision.Its a learning period, every day , every moment you come to learn the complexity of life. And without a whimper, you realise that a sense of responsibility has become a new trait of yours. You are , all the time answerable to your stupidities.
Sahai’s open minded approach may have made him a queer personality but within his mealy -mouthed nature, housed an affable and a passionate disposition. At odd times he would barge into the room of other hosteliers and demand a cup of tea or coffee. Everyone was acquainted with his eccentricity yet no-one ever protested on his face. We hosteliers would often revel in his mimicry so as to irritate him. Once pestered he blurted out choicest expletives in his vernacular language.
Once he returned late for dinner and found the mess gate locked.Upon enquiry he came to know about the fast (which the mess in routine observed once a fortnight). He felt outraged and kicked the mess manager room door. The manager politely advised him to go to the market for dinner as mess was closed. But as obdurate as he was,he refused to listen and warned that if he didn’t arrange meals for him he would go and get food from the warden ! He literally ran towards the warden house and knocked at his door.
Our warden was a tough guy and brooked no nonsense. We watched all this and feared that soon Sahai will be back having been severely reprimanded by the warden for his audacious tomfoolery. To our utter surprise ,he came back laughing after having his royal meals at warden’s house. Needless to say, the mess manager couldn’t be seen next day at his desk in the mess hall.
Unlike us, he was endowed with an undiplomatic characteristic of calling a spade a spade on the spur of the moment. And we rest of hostelier were always carrying an unwanted guilt in the back of our mind that we can’t grudge against any wrong happening around.
Once on an annual celebration at our hostel auditorium, a minister was invited and few speakers who were pre-guided to shower eulogies on the Minister occupied most of the time till Minister’s turn. Upon his turn, the Minister spoke at length about his own hostel life experiences decades earlier. At the end he boasted of his doors were open for 24 hours for any grievance by the public. Before the thanksgiving speech by a student was to be delivered, our Babu Sahai(ala Babu Moshai in the flick Anand ) rose up to speak the unspeakable. He quickly jumped over to the dias, and let the obnoxious cat out of the abstruse bag. He revealed the truth of warden’s bumbling control over the hostel affairs, poor , unhygienic meals of the mess, lack of cleanliness, missing of newspapers and a disfunct TV in the recreation room. He disclosed how the newspapers meant for library reached Warden’s house everyday. At the inglorious exposures, the befuddled warden blanked out , but somehow kept watching the ominous proceedings whereas the Minister looked purposely askance . No-one dared to stop him whereas a section of back-seated boys clapped in affirmation.
When the datesheet of the final exams was annouced, Sahai confided in me that he’s planning to go to home before the exams. On the day ,he was to board the train, he returned late from the market in the evening. I warned him that he was very late for the train. He told me that he had gone to buy special ladoos from RN Bazaar for his newly wed bhaiya- bhabhi. By the time he reached station the train had departed.
Back in Hostel, I derided him for his ill-timing of his market visit. I sincerely advised him to drop the home visit which he outrightly rejected. Peeved at his rebuttal ,I flew off a teaser at him ; Okay if you don’t take my advice, you would never reach your home if you go. I flippantly cursed him that he would fall ill in the train and die unknown and unrecognised, for want of care and treatment. I could never had foreseen such an unseemly end ,had Destiny not put these diabolical words into my mouth.
Sahai did leave for his home next day on another train which he deboarded at an earlier station for further on road journey to his hometown Gaya. Alas, he never reached home. The bus in which he was travelling was ambushed by the miscreants on the way. The communal riots had erupted there, as infamously called Biharsharif riots 1981.All the passengers were waylaid and were segregated .As Sahai wore a beard, he was mistaken for a Muslim and despite his heart-rending appeals, he was hacked to death by the rioters.
We came to know about his death a month later when a monthly magazine ran an article exclusively on him. A tidal eruption of tears ran amuck in my eyes , my heart sobbed in grief and guilt on the day of mass mourning, observed in the hostel. My ill-fated friend had stood by my poignant premonition.
He died unknown and unrecognised !
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