Dorji stood dumbfounded with eyes fixed onto that large peculiarly round boulder, which could perhaps be called a solitary one, but for the presence of a smaller one of its kind only a few feet away protruding from an undulating mass of sand on the banks of the Teesta. He lived not far away in the small hamlet called Simtang on the Siliguri-Gangtok highway — having spent 25 years of his life there; he knew its glades, pathways, and even the pine trees.

He gazed listlessly across the rumbling river into the morning haze of the woods lost in the depths of Kamini’s thoughts, “If only she could be, like before, beside me as close as water kissing the roots of that lone tree on the opposite riverbank and just not running afar, washing away the tiny but significant specks of happiness from my life like now.”

The morning sun tried to beat the cold gusts of the September wind and Dorji too made similar bids to disengage his mind from Kamini but ironically both matched only in their failure. The will to sit on that solid rock without Kamini eluded him now and again like the moon playing hide and seek behind the clouds. Finally, much to his chagrin, he decided to rest upon the smaller one in a position so as not to lose sight of the big one.

It was where he and Kamini used to spend hours together during their long association of four years — in total seclusion away from the maddening world, talking, laughing, complaining, weeping, and cajoling.

“How did this happen and why did you forsake me for no fault of mine? I think God and you somehow conspired to forsake me, He perhaps to demonstrate His absolute authority on Providence and you certainly to satiate your sadistic pleasures seeing someone’s heart bleed,” Dorji murmured to himself.

There were times when Kamini Gurung and Tundup Dorji would begin heated arguments or even quarrel, particularly when he broached the subject of their marriage. Kamini’s attempts to tactfully brush aside his insistence seemed to be having no impact on him. But this time only a few words from him lead her onto the path of permanent estrangement. Having lost her parents at an early age, the future of Kamini’s only mentally retarded brother always weighed heavily upon her sensitive mind.

Dorji gently picked up a small twig and unintentionally started scribbling something on the ground that eventually turned out to be a figure resembling his Kamini. He reached for his wallet and took out an old but neatly kept photograph of Kamini and after making up some deficiencies in the figure below spoke to her again, “Oh, my dearest Kamini! What makes you so indifferent and callous towards me? I never said or did anything to deserve punishment of such severity. There were a couple of more serious occasions in the past when we could have fallen apart, but it was you who said that this relationship of ours isn’t just like a bubble of water in its impermanence.

What has suddenly made you so harsh and so heartless, I still fail to understand. If in my obsession of love for you, I made a simple and logical proposal that we should now establish our relationship and marry, what was wrong in that? It was all natural and anyone in my place would have done so. After all we both are settled and what should prevent us from realising our dreams and start living the life of our choice that we have been cherishing all these years. What sin did I commit in saying this to you, tell me? O! My dearest one, please speak.”

His whole body trembling, Dorji slowly got to his feet and aimlessly strolled from one bush to another, piqued by the noise made by a dozen odd thrushes in the barberry bushes, which he otherwise used to enjoy so much with Kamini. Tastes change over time and happiness comes from within and he was not in the mood to realise this cardinal principle of enjoyment at the moment.

Taking a few whirls that appeared more like inebriation than any acrobatics, Dorji turned back and seated himself where he previously was, but this time, grasping his head firmly and staring furiously at the figure below created by him a few minutes back. For a moment he wished to spit at the image and destroy it forever with his jungle boots, but something within restrained him and an invisible struggle between heart and head ensued at the end of which heart won.

He bowed down and kissed the image as intensely and as warmly as he could, grossly unmindful whether it was sand or soil because for him it was Kamini and Kamini alone, and nothing else. Raising his head reluctantly, Dorji muttered gently, “O! My dearest Kamini, we both have perhaps failed our names-I, being Dorji should have been basking in the glory of my ancestral royalty. But far from allowing me this liberty you went ahead ruling me ruthlessly and condemning me. And you Kamini, which signifies one who is an abode and embodiment of infinite love even in the worst of tempests, practically abandoned me in high ocean currents to drown and perish. Ah! My dear, what a nice reward for my unflinching love? Is that what I deserved? O! My dear, should I say your ways of meeting the ends of love are as mysterious as they are malicious?”

A stream of tears rolled down his cheeks getting slowly absorbed in the sandy image below as silently as his words vanished into thin air. A sudden splash of water attracted Dorji’s attention and he saw a big fish leap into the air and drop back after taking a few spins as if to tell him that he was not alone in that moment of bewailing.

He got up and in a bid to follow his unexpected companion, took a few steps down the stream up to the point where local fish poachers had stealthily spread their nets to ensnare their catch of the day — bellies upside down with the use of gunpowder.

Disgusted, he returned but not before spying a large pack of deadly gelatin sticks with a detonator, fuse and timer device all set to play havoc with the poor aquatic creatures within a period of ten minutes. He thought to himself, “Oh My God! What will be the fate of my companion and his companions as they will soon be dead for the only fault of being born in a world where the poor and helpless are bound to suffer the cruelty and high-handedness of the rich and the resourceful — be it the richness of a beautiful face or that of wealth.”

Dorji abruptly cried in sheer madness, “I’ll show to the world right now and here itself, that fish have from the earliest times been dying for men, but today a man will die for a fish and I’ll sacrifice myself to save the fish who does not deceive, who does not wear many masks, who does not torture, who does not laugh when others weep and who does not go about kicking people whom they say they once loved. Today I’ll give up my life for the poor, dumb creatures and not for those who believe in killing people with sugar coated pellets of poison.”

Quickly but carefully Dorji untied the knot of the thick cord holding the deadly explosive tightly together with a piece of wood to make it float, unzipped two- thirds of his jacket and cautiously slipped the mass down his torso. He closed his eyes and only heard time ticking away from him, but suddenly, something struck his mind.

He got up and strode a few steps to the very rock that stood a silent witness to what he and Kamini had gone through in the past and what he was going through now and peeped into his jacket. He had only two minutes of life left and he wished to make the best use of it. He involuntarily reached for the mobile phone in his trouser pocket and hurriedly started pressing the maze of buttons, which often got obliterated due to his moistened eyes. Time running away from him as quickly as the sand in his fist, he doggedly continued with the last enterprise of his life.

Suddenly, there was a big bang, a mighty blast, a bloody blaze, a deafening sound, and silence interrupted only by the roaring waves of the Teesta dancing to its own tune. Dorji — a dear son of his parents, a caring sibling to his brothers and sisters, a helping hand to his colleagues, and a trusted friend to his companions, lay in charred, blood-soaked pieces littered all around that big stone, the citadel of his love.

***

In the busy life of Gangtok, silence surrounded Kamini Gurung in the retiring room of her office, which was suddenly interrupted by two beeps. She at once took out her mobile phone while sitting pensively on the couch and read the message on the screen, “The forsaken is going to the Forsaker above and implores that the forsaker below be forgiven. Wish you happiness ever and always hereafter, Tundup Dorji.”

The next morning, at almost the same time, some passers-by discovered the body of Kamini Gurung at the same rock — the only witness to Dorji and Kamini’s love, which no longer stood in silence, for it displayed visibly delible but infinitely lasting inscriptions in chalk: “If only he could have understood my problems a bit more, Kamini Gurung.”