The Revolutionary
Rahul’s voice on the phone sounded calm and composed. Little could I imagine, when I picked up that unknown number that afternoon as I was running down to court number 10 for the next case, that the man on the other side as he introduced himself was actually Rahul ,my roommate in college hostel, friend,confidante and guide during those amazing years that we spent together. “What the hell. Rahul . Don’t tell me. Where did you vanish. How are you? “ I blurted our everything together. He chuckled “ Still living. How are you? Let’s meet”, he laughed. “Am in Delhi for a week”. “ Ya of course “ I said, as I was still trying to come to grips with this event. “What are you doing. How’s Gita”, I continued. He cut me short. “When we meet”, he said. And after fixing the date and time for our rendezvous he hung up. I finished with my case and returned to my Chamber’s and sat down quietly. Rahul after twenty years, I thought , after twenty years , and distinctly remembered those parting words at the station on that hot afternoon “l will meet you one day Bengali Babu”, he had said as he boarded the train.
He was small and dark,with curly black hair and bright spectacled eyes. The size of his glasses were a little oversized for his small nose and wafer thin moustache on his upper lip but gave him that quick intelligent and impulsive look, on that hot day of June way back in 1979 when I opened the door of my hostel room to repeated knocks. I had moved in from Kolkata only a few days ago. The young man introduced himself as Rahul from Allahabad. He seemed to have a keen sense of humour when in the first few hours of our getting to know each other,he joked about the Bengali fondness for fish and that he is a vegetarian from the cow belt and we are likely to imbibe each other’s taste sooner than later and laughed loudly. His loud unabashed and expressive laugh was not only heart warming but infectious as well. Thus began my tryst with an energetic and passionate and impulsive man who did not only have varied interests from politics to cricket to music but also pursued them with gusto. And soon enough he was in the midst of the left inclined political activists of our days at college and would spend hours in discussing Marx, Lenin, Moa,Castro, Che, the French and Russian revolutions and so on. “Leave your books Bengali Babu, come and see the world with me “, he would tell me very often. I too told him he must concentrate on his studies and not get too involved into college politics. Sure enough his impulsiveness took him to the forefront of a political protest and he being one of those in the thick of things was among the few who were arrested and jailed. They released him after six days by which time while he became a hero in college, he was warned by the authorities that his activities could lead to his rustication from college. Unfettered he moved on. The small man soon turned into a firebrand young revolutionary not only in his political leanings but all other aspects of life as well.
I was in my room on that cold November late evening trying to study,when I had to answer the door and was confronted by an emissary,a fellow student who had been sent by Gita apparently desperately looking for Rahul. Those days women were not allowed to visit men’s hostel after some hours ,so the emissary was chosen to deliver the massage. I told him Rahul’s out and would not be back till tomorrow. The emissary however insisted that it was an emergency and I must go out and meet Gita who was waiting outside the college. Reluctantly I put on my warm jacket and ventured out in the cold night to see Gita.
Gita too was a small woman short and thin. She also wore glasses but had large eyes on a round face and full lips. She had long hair which she would tie down with some accessories and presented a neat and clean look. She had come all way from Mysore to study philosophy at Miranda house and was Rahul’s acknowledged girl friend. They were pretty close and I would often walk out of my hostel room during afternoons and early evenings to provide privacy to the couple. She I was told came from a very well to do family with interests in mining and had been sent to Delhi and Miranda to acquire adequate grooming more than knowledge of philosophy, to be desirable marriageable material. I suspect she was bowled over by Rahul’s Marxist leanings and the associated romantic image of the revolutionary. It was an impulsive love affair.
“Where is he? Every time I need him he is not around,” she protested. “ Well he told me he will be back tomorrow. What’s the problem, what’s the hurry.” I asked. She then went on tell me that her elder brother was in town and having been told about their story by her, was furious and wanted to meet Rahul just now. “Well just now is not possible “ I said. Those days there were no mobile phones. And after much hue and cry wherein she told me her family is never going to accept the revolutionary Rahul and why don’t I put some sense into him to take up a job etc. etc. she left. At that time we were in the final year of our post graduation Rahul in history me in literature. Gita was on the verge of completing her graduation.
After a few weeks Rahul told me” Bengali Babu wear your suit on Wednesday.You are going to attend a marriage “ What whose marriage “ I said. He laughed. “I am marrying Gita at the Arya Smaj mandir “ he declared. “ What’s the hurry? “I asked, “you still got to complete your post graduation. And what about your and her parents “. Haha, all that can wait Babu. You see Gita is pregnant with my child. I have no time” he laughed. Knowing his impulsive nature I knew there was no point in arguing further. He had decided to to move to Naxalbari along with his wife to work with the poverty stricken tribals and inspire them to fight for political change. I was worried about him and was awe stuck by his idealism. “ Bengali Babu, come out of your books, look at these people,feel their misery,try and live their lives for one day. Understand their exploitation, they are the living dead and we need to do something for them” he told me one day. Rahul and Gita left for Naxalbari soon. He did not wait to complete his post graduation. I bid them good luck as I saw them off that afternoon.
On our appointed day, I waited with my heart in my mouth,that afternoon,at my chambers at the High Court. I had a successful practice as a lawyer and was generally busy most days. I canceled all my appointments and waited for him. He came thirty minutes late. I could not recognise him. Here was an old haggard,bearded , thin and frail man barely able to walk standing in front of me. He seemed to be very unwell and there was a resigned and lost look about him. Had it not been for those bright eyes peering at me through those glasses I would have had serious doubts about his identity. He sat down quietly and looked at me. Memories of those days together probably engulfed both our minds as we looked at each other speechless for a long moment. As he spoke slowly with long pauses in between and as he searched for words, he was a pale shadow of the fiery revolutionary Rahul Srivastav I knew at college.
For next hour or so as I heard of his physical and mental struggles as he battled gamely for his belief to fight for the downtrodden, of the many times he had to go to jail and the tortures he had to undergo,I could not stop admiring the man sitting in front of me .“ Where is Gita? I asked him after a long pause. He sipped the tea which he held in his trembling hands. “That’s why I have come you Bengali Babu. Gita left me many many years ago while I was in jail. We had a son you know. I don’t know where they are. They released me from jail on health grounds. I am suffering from terminal lung cancer and don’t have much time. I want you to find Gita and my son “ he said. As I looked spellbound at him he continued “ I have inherited some money and a house in Allahabad. Please find Gita and give it to her” .
“ What about you? Where are you going? I asked.
This time he smiled which turned into the usual laughter so special to him” Don’t worry about me Bengali Babu. I am going back to my people. They love me you know” he said with that twinkle in his eye.
