COLUMN: Tunnel of Time
(This is aimed at children in the 9-12-year age group)
By Shevlin Sebastian
Every morning, at seven, Ayaz Hussein, 11, put a large gunny sack over his shoulder and set out from the Kidderpore slum in Calcutta. He spent the whole day wandering the streets, especially in the rubbish dumps. He picked up small bits of paper, bottle caps, paper packets, empty bottles and anything else that could be used again.
At the end of the day, he went to a shop on Diamond Harbour Road and gave everything to Siddique Khan.
The shop owner weighed what Ayaz brought and paid him Rs 2 a kilo. Ayaz collected, on average, three kilos, and so he earned Rs 6 a day. His father had been a painter of houses, but he did not have a regular job. When he got a job, his father would be busy for three weeks at a stretch. Otherwise, he would be idle.
His mother earned Rs 200 a month by working as a servant in a rich Bengali businessman's house. She worked from seven in the morning till seven at night.
A few days later, at midnight, Ayaz stepped out of his one-room house. He was on his way to the toilet. It lay past two houses to the right at the end of a lane. As Ayaz turned right, he saw, in the bright moonlight, a shocking sight.
A man was stabbing another man in the chest.
Each time he plunged the knife in, the other man let out an agonising groan. So shocked was he that Ayaz let out a cry. The killer looked up and saw Ayaz. What struck Ayaz was that his eyes were fierce and menacing.
Ayaz realised that he must run away at once: his own life was in danger.
Ayaz took to his heels and was out of the slum, running as fast as he could. He went down the deserted Ekbalpore Road.
Ayaz looked back. He felt a lump of fear in his throat. The killer was following him, but he was still some distance away. Ayaz could see the white shirt and white pyjamas the man was wearing. The road now curved a little to the left, so Ayaz vanished from the killer's view.
He was now near St Patrick's School. The gate was partly open; he slipped in. To the left, there was a lighted room. Ayaz saw a thin old man with white hair, wearing a vest and dhoti, sitting on a charpoy in front of the room.
He was Balram, the durwan of the school.
Gasping, Ayaz said, 'I want to hide,' and before getting a reply, he walked past Balram and entered the room.
To his left, he saw a wooden bed alongside one wall, its four legs placed on bricks. Ayaz went down on his knees, lifted the bedcover and crawled under the bed.
After a while, he heard Balram come in. The light was switched off; then there was the sound of the latch being drawn.
As Balram turned around, he noticed a man at the gate. So he stepped out again.
'What do you want?' he enquired.
In the light of the street lamp, Balram saw that the man was slim and of medium height. He had a thick, dark brown scar across his right cheek.
The man pulled out a knife and pointed it at Balram's throat. 'Old man,' he said fiercely. 'Did you see a small boy running down the street some time ago?'
'Yes, yes,' Balram answered quickly. 'A boy wearing brown shorts and a vest?'
'That's the boy,' the man said, pointing the knife so that its sharp, pointed tip was a mere millimetre away from Balram's throat. 'Which way did he go?'
'I saw him go towards Diamond Harbour Road.' Balram's voice shook in fear. 'I called out to him, but he was running very fast.'
The man gritted his teeth. 'Now, listen, not a word about this to anyone. If I come to know that you have informed the police, you are a dead man.'
Balram's gentle black eyes widened in shock. He shook his head. 'Please spare me. I will not tell anyone.'
The killer stared hard at Balram. After a while, he turned and started to run towards Diamond Harbour Road.
As soon as the man vanished from sight, Balram took out a lock and key from the fold in his dhoti. With trembling hands, he locked the gate. He entered the room and closed the door. Balram went to the bed, lifted the counterpane, and looked at Ayaz.
'You can come out,' Balram whispered. 'The man has gone away. I told him that you had run off towards Diamond Harbour Road.'
Ayaz came out from under the bed and stood up.
'Chacha, thanks for saving me.'
Ayaz brushed the dust off his vest and shorts.
'Oh, that's all right,' Balram said, sitting down on the bed. He looked intently at Ayaz: the boy had a sharp nose, keen eyes and a chin that jutted out. 'He looked like a very dangerous man. So tell me, why was he chasing you?'
'I live in the Kidderpore slum,' Ayaz replied quickly and nervously. 'About half an hour ago, I came out of our hut to go to the toilet.'
Ayaz narrated how he had accidentally seen the man stabbing another man and how he had let out a cry in fear. He had been forced to run away to save his life. 'Chacha, if you had not saved me, that man would have surely killed me.'
'Son,' Balram enquired in a soft voice. 'Did you see the face of the man who was being stabbed?'
Ayaz shook his head. 'I was too frightened to notice his face.'
Balram stood up. 'You sleep on this bed. You had better stay here till the morning. The killer may still be around in our area, looking for you.'
'Yes, Chacha,' Ayaz nodded in agreement.
'I will sleep outside on the charpoy,' Balram stated. 'I usually do so on summer nights.'
It was already morning when Ayaz woke up. Balram was standing in front of a small mirror hanging on the wall near the door. He was using a razor to shave his face, now covered with white shaving cream.
Balram turned around and said, 'So, young fellow, did you have a good night's sleep?'
Ayaz sat up. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. 'Yes, Chacha.'
Sunlight came in through the window and lit up a part of the floor.
'It's now eight o'clock. There is a glass of tea placed on a low table. Drink it; then you can go home.'
Ayaz went to the table and gulped down the tea.
'Chacha, I have to go now. My parents must be wondering where I am. I will come to see you later.'
'Be careful,' Balram said.
Ayaz stepped out of the room into the sunlight.
(This is an excerpt from the novel, 'The Mystery of the Midnight Incident'.
Published in The TeleKids section of 'The Telegraph', Kolkata on October 2, 1997)
