Dipten, Prashanta and I used to study together at Vidyasagar College. The three of us were extremely close friends. We used to serve proxy for each other.⁽¹⁾ We would play truant together and go to the movies, and sit together in cafes and chat. Despite being so close, we did not even know whose families lived where.

Those happy days came to an end before our very eyes. Prashanta and I both had difficult family circumstances. My difficulties were particularly heavy. On the day of our parting the three of us went to the cinema together, ate to our hearts’ content and noted down each others’ addresses. We promised that whether or not we would write each other under ordinary circumstances, we would definitely let each other know about any major good or bad news.

Nearly four years passed. Those who were such close friends did not even write each other. Well, at least I didn’t write. I kept track though of who was doing what. After being actively engaged for some time in India’s independence movement, considering my difficult family circumstances, I had to take up a government job like a good son. The news drifted my way that Prashanta seemed to have gone to America to take some kind of training, while Dipten was studying at Calcutta Medical College. I felt a little angry and disappointed. I thought, studying in medical school or enlisting in the army might not be such major news. But is Prashanta’s going to America such an everyday event? No, they have surely forgotten me. Then let me forget about them too.

I did not have to stay angry with them for too long. One day, coming home from the office I saw that a huge letter had come from America. Elated with joy, I tore open the envelope. But after reading it I became quite distressed. He had written: “Hey, what’s the news of fifty-eight?” Dipten’s roll number was fifty-eight, so we used to call him by that name. “I’ve probably offended you. I hadn’t informed you before coming to this country. But even after you left Kolkata I’d met up with him a few times. On the day of my departure he’d even seen me off to the ship. But after sending two letters to their home address in Bhawanipur and not getting any response, I gave up writing. But how could I possibly forget! I think about you a lot, and this afternoon it was as though I saw Dipten right before my eyes! In the afternoon I was sitting in the library and going through a few books… I don’t think anyone else was there in that huge room. Something strange suddenly happened. I could sense somebody’s presence. I felt as though someone was trying to drag my mind from my book.

“My gaze suddenly fell towards the window on my right side. Standing near the window I saw Dipten, and in his hand he had a blunt blade. I clearly heard what he said: ‘Hey, can you check and see how sharp the blade is?’ Just as soon as I reached out to take the blade from his hand he drove it right through his own throat. A stream of blood gushed out. Next he seemed to moan as he stood, the black shadow of death descending across his eyes and face. I watched transfixed like a statue. I was powerless to move. When I regained my senses I looked around – where was Dipten? I started to wonder whether what I had seen was true or a dream. Or something not quite real, but not quite a dream either. I decided to write you a letter immediately. Let me know right away, brother – is Dipten all right or not?”

Upon getting the letter, I immediately wrote to my friend Mihir Banerjee asking him to tell me in detail everything he knew regarding Dipten. He wrote, “Dipten was studying quite well in the medical college. But since he had to depend on money from his in-laws, he was extremely ashamed. His wife would torment him about this constantly. Not able to bear the insult, one evening he went to a park in Kolkata and overdosed on opium. Deep into the night he came to the notice of one of the park’s gardeners. Despite desperately trying to save him, he made all the doctors’ efforts futile and passed on to the other side. At that time his fair complexion seemed to have vanished somewhere – it was as though someone had poured ink over his entire body.”

Having read Mihir’s letter, I realized that Dipten died in the last part of the night prior to the afternoon Prashanta had seen him put a blade to his throat.

[Author’s explanation:] Pratisáḿvedanika tathyánubhu’ti – jágradavastáy [Literally, “Psycho-reactive perception of real events in the waking state” tathyánubhúti = tathya + anubhúti]

Footnotes

(1) When one was absent from class, another would answer to the first’s roll-call number. –Trans.