TRAVELOGUE
Rendezvous
with Siraj-ud-daulah
A true story set in 1973, Bengal.
H
e thought he heard something rattling in the
bushes or was it his own heartbeat, which was
now pounding. His senses heightened. Nitai’s
two friends did not utter a word for about half an hour. A
thought dawned on them on the moonless dark night, “Are
we lost?” They struggled to keep pace with the lone figure
ahead of them, almost a fickle of a shape now, glowing like
a bunch of firefly in a tenebrous night covered by cowering
barren branches of thick arcane trees.
The sun stayed longer and the nights grew shorter.
The mornings were still misty as the cobbled streets of
Hathibagan in North Calcutta, lazily brought itself to life
from the slumber of late night addas. Dipping the rusk
in his tea, with a newspaper in hand, Nitai heard the
familiar sound of a tense debate filtering through the slow
chugging of a tram nearby. The Naxalite movement had
torn the city of Calcutta and debates on Marxism had taken
a centre stage, from coffee houses to class rooms and
around the beloved carom tables.
As he made his way towards the morning sparring session,
adjusting the dark belt on his white karate gi, Nitai, a stocky
teenager with a thick mane of curly hair felt a friendly pat
24
ISSUE 1 2018
on his shoulders. “So, exams over! What’s the plan now?”
asked Rouben, Nitai’s tall friend.
Inspired by the iconic Bruce Lee, Nitai, a student of
Chemistry, and Rouben, a full time tutor—had taken up
martial arts lessons in one of the many mushrooming
Karate classes.
“Let’s check with Kamal, I think we should do an outbound.
It’s about time!” said Nitai. “So, you do have something in
your mind because, I know Kamal won’t,” smirked Rouben.
While playing a game of carom, Kamal asked, “Why
Murshidabad?”
Nitai retorted, “Do you have any better plans?”
“Obviously not!” added Rouben.
Clueless and confused, Kamal said, “No, I mean, yeah!
Who cares!”
They never thought that an historical excursion would
round off into an untold adventure. They took a train
from Calcutta in the morning, and visited all the major
tourist spots in the small town of Murshidabad. Nitai’s
legs were hurting and he wondered if his friends too were