The wind was blowing slowly and the new born chirping in their nest on the jungle gernium flower plant close to our veranda and the mommy bringing home tiny worms in her break. While I enjoyed watching the birds’ family, the present scenario pollution impact in our day to day life sadden me, even the tiny nest had several plastic strings entangle between the twigs. I pointed the same to my uncle, he too shared few words regarding plastics dumping in the river and disturbing the aquatic lives, and from the plastic strings reminded him of threads which he once used to tie a talisman.
I was sitting on the veranda by my uncle, he was sitting on a brown armed plastic chair, and me on a cane stool with an orange floral print cushion, he took the joy of sharing an experience ruminating his gold old days,
He started, “During those days when I was working in a big Tea Estates as Head Tea House, every morning at 4.00 AM , I paddled to the factory and by evening 5.00 Pm I paddled back….
“Mon, ahila” (Mon, you came), “Mon, juwai niki ?” (Mon , you are leaving?), were the words of a shop keeper near our factory within the Tea Estate, Sometimes I buy few necessities and sometimes we exchange smiles and sometimes ideally our conversation lengthen to 5 minute or 10.
An aged man, whom I address as Bordeuta, with his grey hair, a little bald, a mole on his right cheek and a thin moustache, with full sleeve white vest and knee length white dhoti was his daily attire, during the summer he fan himself with a bamboo hand fan while he sit on a bench made of bamboo under the shade of a huge banyan tree.
I was done for the day and was in a hurry to be back home, for your awaiting aunt and cousins, then little kids, Bordeuta stopped me , I held my bicycle’s brake, the rattling sound stopped, which was at its highest note on the pebbled road, Bordeuta with much annoyance said, “Listen, I am disturbed”,I questioned, “But, why?”, “Do you know someone practising witch craft?” I replied, “I have heard of one Deauta bez in our locality”. He than narrated his story of how a family is troubling him, all the four brothers takes away goods from his shop and when money is asked, they threaten him and land slaps on his cheek instead, and sometimes thrashes his goods here and there and now, they does regularly.
Almost dark fell, and I had a long distance to paddle home, I left him saying, “I will talk about it tomorrow”, reaching home, sipping a hot cup of tea and the bites of some freshly fried pokoras relieved the day long tiredness and than the grocery list to the market and the conversation with my Maa, your aunt and the kids fighting for the toffees were all in my brain.
Next day, hurriedly I paddled to the garden, at noon for a short break I walked out of the factory, my eyes caught of Bordeuta’s and at the first glance his query flashed back my mind, before I could start anything, he approached and repeated his story and asked me to bring him a Talisman to get rid of the troublesome family. I could not refuse his repeated plead, But, on the other hand I was not of a kind to go to a witch or a warlock and bring him what he asked for, slowly it became a daily affair, and whenever he see me, he would ask me for the talisman. One day only to avoid his repeated request I assured him, “I ll talk to the warlock and get you help”. My words worked as ointment in an open wound. He gave me a betel nut and a leaf,( it is offered in respect) and Rs. 11/- as fee for the said purpose to be given to the warlock. I went to a tea stall, another person, Padmeswar Tamuli was with me, with the Rs. 11 in my pocket both of us had tea and sweets and since I don’t have the habit of chewing betel nut I offered it to my friend, he cut it with a knife and coated the leaf with lime and a hint of tobacco he chewed it and his lips were red alike applying lipstick.
After eating up the money and the betel nut my thought started haunting me with a feeling of guilt.
Finally an idea strike my brain I took a yarn, but I got only a white one, since I did not have red thread, I painted the thread with the red ink from my pen and tried all the calligraphic skill in a piece of white paper very carefully made curves and dots alike Arabic letters and folded it to the possible smallest and wrapped it carefully in a piece of newspaper.
Next, day I paddled to garden, the dhoti wearing old man’s eyes relieved seeing me, he was waiting for me, I smiled and assured him that his problem will sort out from now onwards, and offered him the wrapped small thing and spoke him silently to put the calligraphic bit of piece to put in a empty case of metal talisman and tie it in the red thread given along and later tie it in his waist chanting God’s name and no one should see it, I mentioned the last words in the fear of being caught of my scribbles which makes no sense.
Days passed and then a month, the machines were functioning in full swing, everywhere the aroma filled of freshly processed Assam Tea. I nearly forgot of my skill to give Talisman as remedy. I was in a hurry, to reach home before the dusk falls. While crossing the Bordeauta’s shop, he signalled with his hand and cried, ”Wait! Wait!”. I stopped and the rattling cycle too, “Mon, thank you for the talisman, it is working, their elder son died and since then their trouble has also lessen”
After few days, he stopped me again, “Mon, you have really gave me a very good thing, their second son has got job in a company and he has shifted to a new place”
Again after a week,” their third son has diagnosed with some serious illness and nowadays hardly he comes out of his house”
After six months, “Their fourth son has married a girl from Rongdoi Village, the only daughter of her parents and now he has started staying in Rongdoi”
I continued paddle years after years, Sometime I buy in his shop and continued exchange of smiles and sometimes conversation, he was always grateful for the talisman, one day I learnt that he died and the shop run by his son, one day his son in a thankful note mentioned, “Deauta (Father), once mentioned me that you brought him a talisman from a warlock, the magic worked and he was freed from all the disturbance, he wore that till his last breathe”. I still wonder, was it a coincident or a faith?”
My phone rang, an emergency call from office, I excused my uncle and left. It is true sometimes strong faith works as miracle.
Tripti Gogoi 