Free First Light by Sunil Gangopadhyay

Bharat’s thoughts raced ahead of one another. What had he done to deserve such a punishment? Who had given the order? One of the kumars of course. But why? He had never offended them by word or deed. In fact, his servile humility before his brothers had angered Shashibhushan. ‘Why don’t you stand up to them?’ he had asked time and again. ‘Are you not the Maharaja’s son?’ A sob rose in his throat at the thought of Shashibhushan. ‘
Ogo
!’ he let out a wail that cut through the dark silence like a knife. ‘Why do you treat me so cruelly? What have I done? Don’t leave me here to die. Have pity!’ The men jumped at the sound of his voice. ‘
Ei
!’
one of them shouted in a startled voice. ‘How did this spawn of a bitch loosen the gag? ‘ The other one dropped to the ground and delivered a series of stinging slaps on Bharat’s cheeks. ‘Open your mouth whoreson,’ he roared, ‘Or I’ll smash your head to pulp.’ Stuffing half the gamchha into Bharat’s open mouth he secured the rest firmly around it. After this the men brought out a razor and commenced shaving Bharat’s head. Bharat had a fine head of hair that rippled, dark and silky, to his shoulders. Their work completed, they rose to leave. ‘Son of apig!’ one cursed as he moved towards his horse. ‘Making love to a Laichhabi!’ the other spat venomously on the ground, ‘Who can save you now?’ Then, mounting their horses, the two men rode away.
    How long did it take to die? Not very long, surely. There were wild animals in the forest. Prince Niladhwaj, the king’s brother, had shot a number of tigers and their skins now decorated the walls of the palace. The men had chosen a clearing in the forest to bury him so that his head would be easily visible to the prowling creatures that swarmed the jungle. Any moment now and one of them would find him. And even if they didn’t he would die anyway—like Jesus whose hands and feet had been nailed to a cross. Shashibhushan had told him about Jesus. Crucified at sunrise. Dead by sundown. Would Bharat take longer to die because he was buried in the ground?
    Though his body had disappeared Bharat could move his head. He turned it this way and that, his eyes straining to see something—anything. But the darkness surrounding him was impenetrable. Tilting his head upwards he saw the stars winking and glowing, pale gold against a purple sky. His body was inert but his brain ticked away:
    Twinkle twinkle little star
    How I wonder what you are
    Up above the world so high
    Like a diamond in the sky.
    Was it
what you are
or
who you are
? How did one spell
diamond
. Was it D-I-M-O-N-D or was it D-I-A-M-O-N-D? Why couldn’t he remember? ‘What does it matter anyway?’ he thought suddenly, ‘I’m dying. I shall be dead in a few hours. I’ll never take dictation again.’
Making love to a
Laichhabi! What did that mean? Manipuri maidens were called Laichhabi. Like that Monomohini. ‘Don’t fool about with a
Laichhabi
,’
Ghosh Moshai’s servant Tarakda, had warned him, ‘They can be dangerous.’ But Bharat had never fooled around with Monomohini. In fact, he had gone out of his way to avoid her. It was she who couldn’t leave him alone. She followed him around, peeped in at his window, teased him and laughed at him. Oh, the things she said. They made him blush to the tips of his ears. He kept the door latched against her but the wood was old androtting and there was a gap between the panels. Once she had slipped a twig through the gap and managed to drop the latch. Terrified at the thought that she might force her way in, he had stood with his back to the door while she hammered on it with all her might. Then, her strength failing, she had poked the twig viciously into his back, over and over again, till it was raw and bleeding. And all the while she had