“I am joining the Congress.” His words made Kabir frown a little cluelessly.
“You will still be working in the city, right?” He asked, unsurely. The moment his brother lectured him about the nation needing young blood and him going away for some time, Kabir viewed him as an escapist. Someone who was running away from his responsibilities towards his family like a coward.
Kabir became more responsible towards his nephew and began sending home money after his brother was gone. The occasional letters that arrived from him let Kabir know two things: one, he was alive, and two, he was constantly moving from one place to another. In the middle of the next summer, the Police came to the Indian Coffee House and sought out Kabir to ask some questions about his brother. It scared him to know that the police had even been to the village looking for him. The Manager felt Kabir was also involved in something illegal that would harm the business, and let him go.
Kabir was clueless for a while as to what he could do when his roommate suggested trying as a daily wager in the station area. For some weeks, Kabir was taking sacks of cargo to the railway yards and managing to earn enough for his fees. Most days, he would eat less to save up, but it left him with very little time to study. It was no shock to him when he failed to clear his honours finals and had to take the degree without it. On the day of the result, Kabir was taken to the Metia Bruz Baiji Bari by his roommate for a celebration. Although Kabir was unsure of it, he did not want to refuse. The glittering world of the lanes was a different universe to him. He somehow managed to befriend Mohini Bai, one of the young dancers whom he spotted in a corner reading a book. They talked about the book for a while, and Mohini invited Kabir to come the next evening to watch her perform. Kabir was not someone who understood art. His hands were rough from odd jobs, and any entertainment was a luxury for him. But something in Mohini Bai intrigued him. She was very young, almost a teen. He did not wish to say no. He thought it was going to be one day, but then he met some interesting people at the Mehfil. Bonomali was about his age and was working in La’at Saheb’s office. Hearing of Kabir’s plight, he offered Kabir a job at his place. Kabir was more than happy to work for Bonomali’s family. They were a posh, reputable family staying in the heart of the city, and his job was to assist his old father with odd things. Reading the newspaper or writing a letter. Kabir, however, did not stop going to the lanes of Metia Bruz. Soon, he was debating politics with Bonomali and a few others. He strongly believed that what his brother believed in was wrong. No amount of a round table conference could bring freedom. Freedom was to be fought for. With blood, sweat and tears. Babus with their pleated Dhuti and Khaddar Panjabis could not bring freedom, sitting in their luxurious living rooms.
Bonomali seemed to disagree. The debate went on for long hours into the morning. Then Kabir was about to leave to report to the job when Bonomali stopped him. He wanted Kabir to meet someone. “You are ready,” he said.
“Ready for what?” Kabir looked perplexed at Bonomali. That night, Bonomali took him to one of the rooms in the back of the Kothi and introduced him to Upendra Gangopadhyay. Kabir was unsure and reluctant. Bonomali made him believe he would do the same odd jobs he did now, only with his eyes and ears open. There was no risk involved. Kabir agreed, more because they were paying him well and he needed the money now that his nephew had gone to school. Kabir did not know when he had started taking risks, eagerly, to gather more information and help the group. He had no idea what the group did with the information or how many people, except Bonomali, Upendra or Sharat, were involved. The group majorly worked on a need-to-know basis, and Kabir did not mind. He did not want to get into trouble.
But one day changed everything for him. He was walking down College Street, running some chores, when he saw a protest group outside the Presidency College. He could read their placards and their demand for equal rights for Indians in comparison to British citizens in India. A police car came by, then two. There was a commotion among the protestors. Shots were fired. As everyone ran helter-skelter, Kabir noticed a bloody body on the road. He was one of the protestors. Was asking if someone’s basic rights are worth being killed over? His blood boiled. He could not sleep for the next three nights and waited for his meeting with Upendra. When he finally met Master Moshai, he asked for riskier jobs. He wanted to drive the British hooligans out of the country for good.
Kabir was doing the same job with a different zeal now. He was extra risky but extra careful. Kabir often thought of his brother abandoning his family. A letter or two every few months was not worth it. That made Kabir decide he had chosen this life, and he would not ruin another by marriage and vows he could not keep. He had no time to fall in love, no time to spend at home. Kabir’s plan was foolproof. He would see India on its independence day dawn and then find a job with the newly formed native government. He looked forward to it. But then Adhir and the others decided that they were doing the same thing they were against, and it could not go on this way. Kabir was appointed at the house of the Magistrate as his cook. He had been training under the cook at Bonomali’s house for it in secret. He was ready for his job, unaware that he was not alone in the mission. Meera was introduced to him by Sharat. It was not the first time she was working undercover, but her first time in Barishal and her first time with a partner. At first, they were awkward and unsure. Playing with strangers was easy. But then Kabir slowly found a friend in Meera. In between their few assignments in disguise, Meera and Kabir discovered that despite their separate backgrounds and separate journeys, they had both seen enough of the world not to be fooled by it. They both had no home to return to and a past they never discussed. The air of mystery in their friendship attracted Kabir. He had never had a friend in his life who was truly there for the sake of a friendship without ulterior motives.
Meera was younger than him but wiser. He learnt much about life from her reactions and was grateful for it. But he was unsure whether someone like Meera would feel the same for him. Kabir was glad that their intel helped bomb the Magistrate successfully. But it meant that they had to stay under cover and not meet Meera for some time. That was when Kabir realised he missed Meera. At first, he assumed it was because of a habit he had developed, but soon his wise heart realised it was more than that. He feared that his emotions would hinder his mission and ruin their friendship. He decided not to express himself to her in any way that would affect what they had built on a foundation of respect and trust. Little did Kabir know that life had other plans.
