The Unventured Passions

The Clever Ruse

Golden threads of morning light had transformed the dark of the dreadful night into an ambient optimism.
Batuk had rushed back at dawn, after the telephone call, with the head of Medical College board, Dr. Prantik Pramanik accompanying him to the Roy Chowdhury Residence.
Prantik Babu, the influential septuagenerian Dean of Calcutta Medical College, was a well-known Swadeshi sympathiser. His active rallies protesting against the 1911 massacre had earned him jail time as well, during his student days. And, since then his name had been indirectly involved in a multitude of activities involving Krantikaris, but always without any evidence. Even at this age, although not actively, but his contributions to the Swadeshi Movement of Bengal wasn't unknown to anyone. He was affectionate towards all his students, the aspiring doctors of the country, but in his heart special places were reserved only for those young men who had the potential of proving themselves as true patriots, beyond their regular medical lessons.

Batuk, reluctantly, was speaking to two young reporters from the Evening Daily outside the gate as Prantik Babu sat inside the ground floor guest room, the spacious one on the left to Batuk's bedroom. Owing to his broken limbs, Satya had stationed Anirudh there, unable to carry his huge frame up to his bedroom. Anirudh had lay there still, his eyes closed, breathing steady, inebriated under the sedatives, as Prantik Babu monitored the blood transfusion channel once again.
Bondita had stood beside him, ever ready to attend to her husband's needs.

"He seems to have lost a lot of blood." The old doctor sighed as Bondita advanced the small tub of hot water to him as asked.

"How many more blood bags would be needed?" Bondita asked patiently making a mental note of all the arrangements that were needed to be done.

"Two more." The old doctor looked up at her, as his expert eyes didn't fail to miss the tired patches of sleeplessness under her eyes.
"I'll arrange it, Mrs. Roy Chowdhury, you too should take a little rest now."

Bondita forced a smile of courtesy.
"I'll rest once he wakes up, fit and fine."

The doctor sighed and nodded, pulling out a small bottle of pills from his bag, and handed it over to Bondita, as she pulled out the writing pad immediately.

"When should I give him these?" She prepared to jot down the instruction.

"These are for you, Mrs. Roy Chowdhury. One after food, along with a little rest." He paused.
"I understand it's hard to keep up in such situations. But trust me, your husband is an extremely brave man, and he'd be back on his feet before you know it... But, then, he would need his strength by his side as well, wouldn't he?" He smiled tenderly, as tears started to form around the corner of her eyes.

"You're probably of my granddaughter's age, Maa... And, I won't give you false hope. Your husband had suffered a lot, no wonder, and would need time to heal. But have faith, and I promise he would definately heal."

"Please call me Bondita, Daktar Babu."

"Daktar Dadu for you, Bondita Maa... Call me Daktar Dadu." He touched Bondita's head gently, letting out a breath, as his heart muttered a prayer for her.

"Sir, how long will it take for Dada to be back on his feet?" Batuk had returned back, a little distracted, as he scratched his head unmindfuly.

"A few months. You tell me young doctor, how long do you think he should take?" Prantik Babu had gotten up from his seat as he prepared to exam the patched up bullet wound on Anirudh's shoulder.

Batuk let out a sigh.
"Dada would be fine in no time, he always does. But..."

"But?" Bondita interjected.

"But the reporters back at the gate, they asked what would happen to the case? The one for which he worked so much..." He sank down on the couch kept aside and ran his fingers through his hair in dismay.
"Tomorrow is the day to present the evidence to the Court."