Short Story
Mr. Rahman |
RUDRA KAMAL PHUKON (Ist Year, I.Sc.) |
Mr. Rahman! Āh..Ha..Āh..Hā..Ha..Mr. Rahman ..Ah... Hã ...... Mr. Rahman !'—only two words—and then a laughter, Ah Ha..' What does it signify! Is he a mad !! Then what was the back- ground of these scornful words from the mad? What made him so disheartened—so much melancholy? No curiosity grew in the hearts of mankind to discover the mystery. But some wicked boys were seen pursuing him from morning to evening pointing their thin fingers towards the poor fellow. Sometimes the stones were also thrown to him. Unlike the mad he did not harm them in any way He cast long glances towards them and sighed a while—then proceeded on his way. His favourite job was only to draw figures of weepy men and women alike on the ground with his colossal stick that he used to keep it always in his hand. Then he would say, "Mr. Rahman 1. .Ah...!
His deplorable condition and the heart-rending event was quite dark to the mass of people. He also did not seem to express it. We must blame him for this reason. Perhaps his crying heart thought that we could no longer bring consolation to him. So he only wandered in the town, drew figures and nothing else.
I was his nearest one, so I could perceive some of his sufferings— but not so perfectly as they were.
* * * * *
Then he was at college-perhaps in the first year. He was simple and honest. He was admired by his classmates for his good behaviour and high-minded nature.
At the same class there studied another girl. She was very luxurious. She had not the habit of wearing the same dress for an hour or so. Unaccountable is the description of her fashions and styles. So there was a vast difference between the two in their manners.
