the Thinker

Mr. Bagchi took a sip from his teacup and glanced at the morning newspaper. The headline read something like, ‘Government promises….’ He glanced through the other headlines and slammed down the newspaper on the tea table.

“Same news everyday, don’t they have anything else to report?” he thought irritably. It was not that Mr. Bagchi was not patriotic or not concerned about his taxes; it was simply that he desired for something different to happen in life. Anything would do; even an amusing and fabricated report like Superman was spotted in a nearby colony, selling mangoes to middle-aged women.

The thought brought a faint smile on Mr. Bagchi’s wrinkled face. He envisioned the reaction on his wife’s face, if he told her something like this. He got retired from his job three months back. Since then, she has been insisting that he should engage in some kind of activity. According to Mrs. Bagchi, Mr. Bagchi had started behaving strangely in the absence of a permanent job. She was not worried about their finances, owing to the FDs in various banks and savings they had accumulated over the past 35 years.

What made her anxious was the fact that her husband was quick with his temper nowadays. Also, he had become increasingly restless. Their one and only daughter, Meera, got married six months back. While she was around Mr. Bagchi still remained cheerful. It is no secret that most fathers share a better rapport with their daughters than with sons or wives. While she was around, she used to take care of her father’s interests. The two of them would huddle around the computer during their free time, surfing the net or play carom for endless hours. All this kept Mr. Bagchi’s mind at peace.

His wife could never participate in this discourse. She hardly had any idea or knowledge about computers and Internet. Even though Mr. Bagchi tried explaining her the usefulness of all these topics several times, she preferred sticking to her kitchen and puja, all of which appeared far less complicated to her.

Moreover, she has always been a reserved and quite person; not the kind who liked to read, discuss and debate.

So now, Mr. Bagchi was left to himself, wondering what could drive him out of this state of inertia. It was not that he did not agree with his wife about having a more active life. It was simply that he could not agree with her ideas of making life more interesting.

The other day, members of a local colony club came to Mr. Bagchi requesting him to takeover as their club’s president. At first Mr.Bagchi exuded a tepid interest in the task. However, it evaporated as soon as he heard his duties and responsibilities as a club president. All he had to do was to persuade people in the colony to pay more for the Durga Puja decorations every year and try to convince more people to become a member of the club.

When he asked them why they considered him an suitable candidate for the post, they simply implied (they did not dare to state the reason directly; Mr. Bagchi already appeared furious) that since Mr. Bagchi is a well-known and respectable person, he would be able to convince people to pay more for the Pujas, efficiently.

Mrs. Bagchi was not totally averse to their idea. There is no point denying the fact that she was well aware of her husband’s repute and the good will he had among his fellow human beings. But Mr. Bagchi flatly refused the club members and informed them that he had better things to do.

So now, Mr.Bagchi was searching for an ideal exit from this post retirement stupor. Moreover, he wanted a sound and enthusiastic companion who would be able to share his ideas and thoughts and provide him the required feedback. Though he shared an excellent relationship with his wife, he had found out over the past 30 years that there were certain kinds of issues and topics that failed to enthuse her; however hard he tried to indulge her.

She was good at her cookery and household work; she was reasonable fair at maintaining household expenses (it was not that Mr. Bagchi thought less of his wife’s financial skills, but he could not overlook the fact that she became quite relaxed on parting with money whenever she went out for ‘casual’ shopping).

Until he found a suitable way to administer his restlessness, he learnt to keep himself satisfied by shopping for groceries for the household. Hence, Mr.Bagchi set out of his home with an umbrella in one hand and a bag for carrying vegetables in another.

*

The market was always bustling with a huge crowd on Sundays. Sundays are family-meal days. People in the market generally appear in a cheerful mood on this day. Mr. Bagchi was an exception though. He and his wife do not exactly sum up to a family, they could be called a couple more appropriately.

Mr. Bagchi checked and rechecked the list of groceries and other food items that his wife had handed over to him.

“Potatoes, gourd, onion, tomatoes, eggs, bread, margerine, spices and chicken; guess I have bought everything,” thought Mr. Bagchi. He kept looking at the list and walked absent-mindedly, away from the groceries market. There were a series of small shops, which fell on his way to home.

“Hello Mr.Bagchi, where to?” asked Sunil Dhar, the bookshop owner.

“Going home. Had been to the market. Mrs. Bagchi wanted a few things from there?” replied Mr. Bagchi with a smile.

Mr. Bagchi was well acquainted with these shops and their owners for a long span of time. They have been around for the past 10-15 years. During his pre-retirement days, Mr. Bagchi was almost a regular visitor to Mr. Dhar’s shop. He used to check the back issues of Readers Digest, which Mr.Dhar stored for him. And if there were no books to look at, the two of them ordered hot tea from the nearby tea-stall and had a long, engaging chat. Those were the days when Mr. Dhar’s shop did not see many buyers and Mr. Dhar appeared least perturbed about the fact.

Nowadays of course, the scene was different. A new school had opened in the locality a year back and Mr. Dhar’s shop was crowded with school children. He was busy ordering new stocks of school textbooks, copies and other stuff. So there was less time for chatting sessions.

As Mr.Bagchi went past Mr. Dhar’s bookstore, he came across the mechanic’s store, the blacksmith’s stall and a pet shop…. “Wait a minute,” Mr.Bagchi stopped abruptly. “When did they start this pet shop?” he thought, bewildered.

He stood there for a moment and looked at the pet shop’s board.

“This shop was not there earlier,” thought Mr. Bagchi and entered the shop hesitantly. It was certainly bigger and noisier than the rest. However, the noises that hovered in this shop belonged to beasts and not humans.

The shopkeeper was not present there. Mr. Bagchi glanced at a staircase that led towards an underground chamber or something. He presumed that the shopkeeper must have gone there.

He looked around and saw loads of cages of various sizes arranged neatly around the place. The pet shop had an admirable array of animals, one could choose as pets. There were snow-white and biscuit-brown rabbits in small cages, chewing straw.

There were various sizes of aquariums containing fishes, which he had never seen or known before. He glanced at one of the smaller sized aquariums to have a better look at the tiny black school of fish, in it. They were not completely black; they had small and bright orange dots all over their body. It seemed as if the fishes were fitted with lots of minute electric bulbs that kept flashing as they swam around in the water.

The noisiest amongst the lot were the birds. There were too many of them and of various kinds. Some of them were very small in size; some medium and some were large like a parrot or a crow. Some were black and brown in colour with tiny red and yellow beaks. Some were yellow with a furry face.

“Canaries,” thought Mr. Bagchi, still marveling at the beauty of these birds. As he moved further ahead he found that there were two separate compartments within the shop containing other animals like cats and dogs. He examined the cats first. They were no less beautiful.

There was a silver gray one with fine black stripes all over it. There was a ginger coloured cat with loads of fur all over it. Some of them mewed and purred on seeing him; others simply stared.

The shopkeeper was still not around. Mr. Bagchi decided to have a look at the dogs’ compartment. Like the others, this collection was also unique. There were Dobermans, Spaniels and even St. Bernards puppies. But the beast that caught Mr.Bagchi’s attention was a Labrador pup within a small metal container. It had thick golden fur and small sparkling pair of eyes.

Mr. Bagchi went closer to it and bent down to take a closer look at the pup. It was definitely one of the cutest things he had ever known. He wondered whether he should try and push his hand through the container bars, just to touch it once-“I would not have done so if I were you.”

Mr. Bagchi halted suddenly. Did he actually hear someone say that or he imagined it? For one moment he thought that it must be the shopkeeper, who did not like to see a stranger fiddling with his animals. He looked around to see if someone was standing behind him.

No, there was no one. Suddenly he heard that strange voice speak again, "Where are you looking old man? I was speaking to you, look in front.”

Mr. Bagchi glanced at the direction where the voice asked him to look at. He could not see any other human; just the metal container with the cute little Labrador pup in it.

For one moment, Mr.Bagchi stood there, utterly confused. Was someone actually speaking to him or was it his imagination? Was someone playing a sick joke on him or old age was taking its toll over him? He stood there amidst all these doubts and questions, when the voice spoke again in a final attempt to relieve him of his fears, “God, you humans take so much of time to understand. Its me, I am in this container you were looking at.”

In the moment of revelation, instead of enlightenment, a strange mix of emotions surfaced on Mr. Bagchi’s face. He looked down at the Labrador pup, at once confused and surprised. His eyebrows narrowed, as if he was about to ask another question. And he indeed did so, though not verbally.

“It was really you?”

“No, it was a ghost. What do you humans think? Just because we choose not to talk or convey our thoughts to you, doesn’t mean that we are mute and dumb beings, who exist to boost your ego and play Frisbee with you.”

Mr.Baghi was positively amazed as he glared at the Labrador pup.

“What is your name?” he asked verbally this time.

“Brunnut,” the pup replied, this time it also seemed to move its lips.

“Brru..Brow..what?” asked Mr. Bagchi again.

“Oh, all right, call me Brunno if you please. To expect humans to pronounce my name correctly, is asking for too much,” said the pup (it appeared that it said so with a sigh).

Mr.Bagchi was about to reply when someone interrupted their conversation, “Yes sir, what can I do for you?”

Mr.Bagchi turned and saw a short and stout man standing behind him. He had a thin toothbrush moustache and a muddy complexion. He was smiling at Mr.Bagchi.

“Err, I was simply looking at the animals in your shop. I must say..truly, truly a remarkable collection,” said Mr. Bagchi, feeling slightly embarrassed at the fact that he was strolling around in a shop when the shopkeeper was not around.

“Thank you sir. So did you like anyone?” Asked the shopkeeper as his eyes moved from Mr.Bagchi to Brunno. “Aha! A fine pet he will make sir,” the shopkeeper exclaimed as he moved closer to Brunno’s container and Mr.Bagchi.

“Labradors are truly one of the finest breed among dogs. You will not find one like this anywhere else. Moti is too clever for his age,” said the shopkeeper, flamboyantly.

Mr. Bagchi instinctively looked at the pup, to see its reaction on being addressed as Moti. It seemed as if Brunno was scowling at the shopkeeper. “Moti! What a name to think of? I would have bitten off his butt, had he let me out for a second,” thought Brunno.

to be contd...