Voiced Whispers

A walk in the lanes and by lanes of Kolkata will reveal stories that one can hear in no other place, and see through no other sight. Every single person has their own story to tell.

This book is about one such story that was wound in a web so large, that getting out of it seemed impossible at times.

A young college going boy meets a girl on a journey back home. His inquisitiveness gets the better of him, and soon this mundane looking girl gets a lot more interesting. The more he explores into this girl, the more he is drawn towards his past. Flashbacks from the past keep disturbing his mind, as he embarks on a journey that will change his life forever.

Travel through the lanes of Kolkata, and more, as this young boy discovers a lot more about the city he thought he knew inside out. Discover the deep secrets that the city has to hide, as the journey goes on, both inside his mind and out of it. Will he finally find what he is looking for? Or will he get absorbed into the snares of his own city? Read on to find out!

PROLOGUE

It was just another day in a normal life that I had. The work was routine, the same analysis of different data that came my way. It was nearly seven when I left the office, after spending half the day there. The work was getting to me. I had become a member of the typical young Indian workforce – working day and night for a high salary, hoping to retire early and live off the savings.

I picked my laptop bag up from the desk and walked out of the office. I walked to my car and slid into the seat, exhausted. It was the last day of the working week, and I was really looking forward to the weekend. I needed a break from all the work.

I started the car and drove home smoothly. I was fortunate enough to not run into traffic on my way, and I reached home sooner than usual.

My wife wasn’t home yet. She was to return today, and her flight was arriving at 6:30 p.m. I had sent the driver with other car to pick her up, since I couldn’t go to the airport myself.

I hadn’t slept well in three days straight. I had spent the night in the office working, as the job’s deadline was today. It had to be done by someone, and that someone ended up being me. For some reason, I didn’t feel sleepy when I came back home. I walked to the back of the house and eased myself into the chair, as I let comfort take over me.

I stared out into the garden as I thought about the last twelve years.

Twelve years of living a routine life, graduating from a nice college, then doing an MBA, and then a job at a multinational company had somehow become the dream I was dreaming. This was not what I had set out to do, but somehow had ended up doing. I wanted to take up something different, something that I had a passion for, something that would drive me every single day, and this just wasn’t it.

It didn’t really mean that I had to leave my job for that, though. I could do it on the side, maybe take up some work in my free time, however little that may be. I stared out into the dark garden. I could hear the insects making a noise out in the garden, as the darkness covered me.

The thought of not having done anything much seemed to come to me repeatedly. But then, it wasn’t necessary to make life an adventure every day. It had been twelve years since it happened, but I had my fair share of an adventure, and it wasn’t going to be forgotten ever in my life. A smile pasted itself on my lips as I thought about all of it, sitting by the garden, going back twelve years in time.

CHAPTER 1

The train stopped at Panskura junction, as she walked in with her parents, occupying the seat opposite me. Both of us were sharing the window, sitting on opposite sides of it, staring outside into the darkness, occasionally looking at each other.

She wasn’t exactly the textbook definition of what you would call beautiful. She had long, dark, oiled hair, neatly tied into a long bundle. Her eyes were wide, searching for something that seemed to be hidden in those tracks, invisible, yet out there nonetheless. She didn’t smile much in the little time that I met her for, yet when her father bought her that handkerchief from the vendor, her face lit up with a kind of joy I hadn’t experienced in months. Here I was, with earphones plugged in, a tab in one hand and an i-Phone in another, yet frowning, bickering and complaining, and here she was, happy and content with whatever little she got. The contrast was shocking, but what was more disturbing was that I was the one at a loss; I was the unhappy of the two, and all I could do was observe.

I wanted to start a conversation, but being the typical Indian guy, I couldn’t. I just observed her movements, her actions, sometimes lowering the volume of the music to listen to her conversations. There was happiness in her face, yet a longing for something. There was love in her father’s eyes, yet a sadness that he was trying to hide. Something was wrong with this girl - this little girl, who was probably a few years younger to me. I wanted to know what it was, but then again, I wasn’t courageous enough to ask.

The train moved ahead, but my mind stayed right there, fixed on this one girl, who had managed to confuse me in a matter of minutes. What could possibly have gone so wrong, that this girl, who seemingly could be happy at every little thing, who appeared to be her parents’ shining star, was so sad? What was this grief that her parents’ had?

My stop was to come soon, and her father informed me about this, just as I had asked him to. Despite being a regular traveller, I would often forget when my stop would come, so I always used to ask a co-passenger to inform me when my stop would be nearby. That was when our conversation started. She asked me where I was coming from, and I coolly replied Kharagpur, where I was studying in an IIT. She didn’t really seem to care too much about it. I asked her where she was from, and where was she going? She told me that she was from Panskura, and was going to Kolkata, to live with her husband.

It took me a couple of minutes to understand what she was saying. I stared at her father, who suddenly seemed to be very interested in the floor of the train. I could see a few tears in her mother’s eyes. The girl smiled at me. She told me that she came from a very poor family, and her father needed to clear debts. He could not have supported his daughter’s upbringing. In exchange for the sum, he was forced to marry her to a much older man. He had no choice in this matter- it was a decision between saving all lives from starvation and torture. I just sat and stared at the girl, who was still smiling at me, blinking her tears back.

Till now, I had only read about child marriages in newspapers. Sure, I’d condemn them, look down upon them, and sometimes say a word or two against them. But to see it in front of me, to see a beautiful life being torn apart because of it, it was something else altogether. Today, we talk about women’s rights, debate about whether feminists are really required now or not. We talk about increasing rights for these women, but we forget that these women are not a statistic figure. We talk about them in percentages, we say that so many women are now x% safer on the streets, but what about the women behind these closed doors? What about the girl who would now work all her life serving a man she doesn’t even know? Something is wrong with the way we see things, and it better start changing now, because if it doesn’t, it’s just going to go further downhill. Women need rights, but their fundamental right is the right to being an independent individual. Its time they get that back.

My stop had now come, and I got down, leaving the train and her to their fates, standing on the noisy platform, quietly.

CHAPTER 2

The train started beside me, with her safely tucked in the window seat, looking out at me intently. I was everything she wished she could be, or so I thought. How different would it have been if she would’ve been a guy instead? Would it have mattered at all? Perhaps yes.

One has to be careful these days, for one doesn’t know whom one can run into. This person, although distant, was more close to me than probably any of my friends now, for we had something in common.

The images, blurred by the gentle hand of time, had started to form again. The same little girl being dragged by her father across the hallway, crying and whining at being tugged away against her will. The other man was pulling her along with a satanic determination in his eyes.

Father! No! Please!

There was no reply from him.

I love you father. I’ll be a good girl! I promise!

The same grim expression covered his face. He pulled her along.

Father! Father!....

The voice of the girl went away with her as the man pulled her along. I stood there, dumbfounded as she was taken away, unable to do anything, a powerless child.

I was jolted back to reality by my phone howling in my ears. Dad had been calling. It was customary for my parents to pick me up from the station; they wanted to minimize the time after which they’d see me, and they were ready to take the hour long journey back home for that. I took the call, and told dad that I had reached the station, and will be there at the car in five minutes. The car was parked in its usual spot- the No Parking zone by the side of the road. I’d tell dad off every time for this, but today I didn’t. I had something else altogether in mind.

Dad…

"I know, I know. No Parking means that the car shouldn’t be parked there. But paying Rs. 200 for fifteen minutes of parking is pointless! They really force us common people to break the