The Broken Fan

Kolkata is an overly crowded city. One may stand in awe thinking how so many adjoining houses are built in a meager piece of land. The congestion of these houses form different localities known by their varied and eccentric names. To an outsider, these names may seem as peculiar as the pet names Bengalis proudly entitle themselves with. ‘Taltala’, ‘Naktala’, ‘Baithakkana’, ‘Bowbazar’, ‘Jorabagan’ are the names of a few among the many streets in the city. The alleys that run through these localities are so narrow that they can be pictured as a game of maze where a newcomer can easily lose his way. Nevertheless, it is these crowded streets and the people residing in, their opulent culture, food, and art which contributes to the overall sublimity of the city.

In one such street, resides our little hero, Shontu. He is ten but one may not be able to predict his age from his lean body where muscles have barely left any trace and his short stature. Shontu is at home today because of some unknown reason which his mother is not able to decipher. He is in the bathroom sitting on the lid covering the commode seat. He seems quite absorbed in his delusional world where he is the superhero and the responsibility of saving the planet is on his strong shoulders. He cries, “Devil! I am not going to leave you this time. Today your end is certain.” He raises both his hands forming guns in the air by folding two fingers and pointing the other two towards the wall with his thumb pointing upwards. He manages to miss one or two shots from his adversary but gets struck by one on his right shoulder.

 As our hero gets injured and is about to get defeated, his ears recognize a familiar sound amidst his bawl (a sound produced when someone taps the window glass with a metal object). From the vent of the bathroom can be seen the house which is located just at the back of his own on the preceding alley. It is from this house the sound seems coming. To reach the ventilator, he stands on the commode top but it seems too high for his short legs to get there. In no time he walks out of the bathroom, runs through the staircase and rushes into the storeroom on the first floor.

Opening the window panes of the store room, he looks out with his shining big eyes for his only friend in the colony, Rinki. His little friend, somewhat seven or eight, on getting his sight, gently turns the curtain to one side and extends her neck out to assure her friend of her presence. As his eyes catch the glimpse of her cute, almost round face, his lips are pulled by his tiny cheeks projecting his small rabbit teeth that show the elation his heart has immersed in. From his left pocket, Shontu carefully takes out a small glass mirror. He holds the mirror in such a position in his right hand that the reflection of the Sun’s rays lights a small portion of the wall of her house. The lighted portion slowly travels through the wall to the leaves of the mango tree to the balcony and it finally lights that small round face, adorned with curly black hairs and brown eyes sparkling with a gleam that speaks for her emotions which otherwise her mouth can never convey. She embraces him by giving out the same smile. This conversation taking place between the two by the exchange of smiles is so unique in its projection that shows the semblance of a striving bee that is overjoyed when it finally gets a glimpse of a fully bloomed flower.

Just as this conversation between the two is going on, Shontu hears the faint sound of the ringing of the phone. For a moment, the smile on his tiny lips disappears and he wonders about something with discernible angst. His mother, Mrs. Protima picks up the phone and after talking for a few minutes, she throws the phone on the sofa and searches for Shontu in every corner of the rooms with her wide eyes.

She calls out, “Shontu! Where are you? Come out fast. It was your class teacher, Miss Shaw on phone. Today, it was your parent’s teacher meeting and you didn’t tell me.” Tiny drops of sweat that started appearing on his forehead confirmed the person he was skeptical about a few minutes ago. He thinks for a while and then comes down through the stairs taking every step in such a pace as if some unique idea can strike his mind and he can escape from his decree. He finally shows up; his head to toe trembling with fear which he manages to hide with a solemn look on his face.

As he encounters Protima, with her eyes almost devouring him and a distinguished rage in her tone, she asks him, “Why on earth did you tell lie. It was your class teacher and she informed me that it was your P.T.M and I didn’t show up today. Now tell me why you haven’t told me before.”

Shontu stands numb and still at his spot without uttering a single word. She goes on yelling with a slight increase in her rage, “I will tell you why. It is because you got just five marks in your math test and an eight in science.” She clenched her teeth with so much fury that it seemed today Shontu’s end is also certain. Shontu for a moment thinks why is he even standing there and wasting time. He at once leaps out of the room and runs for his life.

Protima picks a hand fan kept on the table and runs after him. Shontu is equipped with many powerful weapons and has won many fights against the devil in his fantasized world but in reality, nothing has ever saved him from his mother. The only weapon is held by Protima, i.e. the hand fan. The hand fan (called ‘hath pakha’) which has helped his mother win many fights against him, counts among other weapons such as roller (belon), forceps (chimte), comb ( chironi) or a broom (jhadu).

Shontu, though, manages to dodge his mother with skills he has been practicing since years, after a few minutes of the chase he fails to keep up the pace and falls in the clutches of Protima. She hits his small butt with the hind end of the fan. The hand fan made of bamboo has been frequently used by her to give him whacks. Though Shontu has not improved a bit and turns more playful and strong every time he gets hit, the hand fan has worn out because it has served all other purposes except the one for which it was bought.

As Protima attempts to hit him the second time, Shontu manages to escape from her clutch and it strikes the legs of the chair kept behind. The fragile handle breaks at once. She cries out, “You are turning more notorious day by day. God knows what will happen to this boy. I am going to meet your teacher tomorrow.” Saying these words to which Shontu has become accustomed, she leaves him alone in the room.

The hand fan lies on the ground broken into two halves. Shontu sits quietly at the corner of the room; his gaze fixed on the broken fan.