Existence

Gora, having killed his assailants, did not know what to do next. He had kicked one in the gut with the point of his boot and had seen him collapse. The other, who held a crude local-made rifle, aimed at his torso and pulled the trigger. But the automaton jammed and the gunpowder backfired killing him instantly in a blast. It was then that Gora realized that he had nothing else to do. His bike had skidded into a steep ditch, which lay murkily by the side of the road and there was no vehicle in sight either going to or coming from Azamgarh.

He squatted under a tree and reclined his head on its trunk. He sat still to contain the shivering in his bones, even though he had no idea presently that in a few days’ time he will be charge sheeted for murder and put on trial in a court of law. He thought what if he had died instead of his assailants in the incident. He imagined that there lay on the road, in place of two bodies, one body bearing his resemblance and wearing his clothes. He tried hard to imagine a world in which he did not exist but could not because his perspective of such of world implied his existence beyond death. Wracked by such an existentialist pang he fell down on the ground drowsily.

When he awoke it was night. A few vehicles must have passed by on the road but none had stopped. He got up quite disoriented. He could feel the sting where the blood had clotted on his hands and feet. In a while he could faintly make out that the two bodies still lay on the road. And a couple of night creatures had ventured out of the wilderness to gnaw at them. He started walking on the road, though he could not make out whether it was towards his destination or away from it. He was apprehended at daybreak by a police patrol jeep.

The immediate consequence of the trial was that he lost his job. The trial lasted for two years. The judge took cognizance of the fact that his offense was not intentional and on sympathetic grounds sent him to rigorous imprisonment for only one-and-a-half years. But since he had already spent two years behind bars as an under-trial he was released right away. The next twenty years of his life Gora spent doing various jobs in and around Calcutta. No, he did not go to north India after that near-death experience he had there. He was never ever after as enthusiastic or fearless as he was during those days when he was working as a customer-relationship manager in the micro-credit lending agency in the villages of north India.

Recently, while he was sitting in a business process outsourcing company in Park Street, where he worked as a call center employee, he received an overseas call. When the caller gave her name he was reminded of a young girl who was immediately under him in his business network twenty years ago. He instinctively replied, “I am Gora.” There was a momentary pause at the other end. By the time the call was disconnected he had come to know that the caller was now an overseas operations manager of a multinational bank, which had its origin as a micro-credit lending agency many years ago. How the world has progressed! Thereafter he realized that one does not have to necessarily die to not exist. And there was not much imagination required either.

Amit Shankar Saha was born and bred in Calcutta. He is currently pursuing PhD research work in English Literature at Calcutta University. His interests lie in academic research and creative writing. His works have appeared in e-journals like Cerebration, DesiLit Magazine, Muse India, Humanicus, Rupkatha, Boloji, Pens on Fire, Many Midnights, Palki, Kritya, A Long Story Short, Writing Raw, Word Catalyst Magazine, etc. as well as in print journals like Families and Pegasus. He has also contributed to the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. He blogs at www.amitss6.blogspot.com