The great interview by Dhiraj Das (article from Assam Tribune)

On opening the envelope, I could make out that it was a call for an interview. In fact, my friends at the hostel were already aware of it. The interview date was still eight days away. That night I boarded the bus for my hometown at Guwahati. Accordingly, I booked a berth in the Kanchanjanga Express, scheduled to leave Guwahati at 10 pm. During the auspicious day of my proposed journey, I bade farewell to my well-wishers (parents included) and started towards the railway station. I was joined by my friend Tapan who was also on the same mission i.e. our destination was the same. As Tapan’s reservation was not confirmed, I volunteered to help him to adjust with me for the proposed night nap. However, it was only on reaching the station that we got a real shock. Our scheduled train was cancelled and we had to return. The real problem for us was the fact that only three days were left for the scheduled interview. We decided to go back to our respective homes and discuss our future strategy on the way. And thus it was decided that we would be leaving for Calcutta (now Kolkata) by bus. The strategy was simple – board a Siliguri bound bus early next morning, get down at Siliguri and board a “Rocket Service” to Calcutta from Siliguri.
Tapan and I got geared up for the next few days journey. We obtained two tickets for Siliguri. On the body of our scheduled bus was seen clearly written “Saha Travels, head office Gossaigaon, Assam”. The bus started its journey at 7.15 am. A glance at my fellow passengers revealed that most of them were from other states and some of them were probably passengers of the cancelled Kanchanjanga Express. I tried to survey the wayside environment as our bus gained momentum after crossing the Saraighat Bridge. Tapan was glancing through some pamphlets on “Pest Management of Tea”, perhaps brushing up his memory for the scheduled interview. The warm sunrays of the July month were gradually piercing in through the window panes of the bus. Most of the passengers were trying to take an early morning nap, perhaps to make up for the hours lost in preparation for the day’s journey. For a moment I too felt drowsy and as I was about to close my eyes the bus came to a grinding halt with a flat tyre. I got down from the bus and found out that the bus had barely crossed Patacharkuchi, bordering the Nalbari district of Assam, when the puncture occurred. In fact, there were still another ten minutes of time to reach Pathsala where we could have had taken our breakfast. As the process of changing the tyre was on, I slowly treaded a few steps from the site and gazed at the highway in the hope that I may come into contact with Pranab da, whose house was supposed to be located at Patacharkuchi. This was revealed by Pranab da during our hostel days. However, my search was futile and after around half an hour I could hear the roaring of our bus. I retraced my steps to my bus and boarded it. By 12.45 noon the bus halted at Barpeta Road for the passengers to take lunch. After having lunch, the bus again started to proceed towards its destination. Within a few hours we had reached Gossaigaon. The bus came to a halt exactly opposite a hoarding in front of a small house which read “Saha Travels, Gossaigaon.” I realised that this was the local office of the travel agency. After having a cup of tea, I returned to my seat, anticipating that the driver would soon follow. However, suddenly I heard a commotion outside. On inquiry it came to light that the present driver was unwilling to drive anymore because he had not received the monthly salary that was due to him. Even after much persuasion from the management, the driver refused to oblige. Finally, a new driver was arranged. The evening rays of the sun were touching the horizon when we arrived a few kilometres within the Srirampur gate i.e. the Assam-Bengal border. Gradually, lines of trucks alongside the highway came to our view. The traffic congestion, according to the handyman, was much more than usual. Since our bus had halted for more than the normal time, I ventured out to find the cause of the delay and the traffic jam.
Suddenly, an ambulance, along with three Army patrol jeeps, passed me. And then only I realised that something serious was happening. On enquiry, it was revealed that something had been happening on the other side of the border. It came to light that there had been a heavy exchange of fire between two tribal communities which, according to the locals, were Bodo and Santhals. Many casualties was reported. The Army and the paramilitary were trying to counter the rival groups. The Army was instrumental in escorting all vehicles to and from the state of Bengal. The reported firing had been going on along a narrow strip of around four kilometres that connects Srirampur with Bengal.
I had taken off my shoes and started to relax on a charpoy along with some other fellow passengers of our bus. It was good that Tapan had purchased some glucose back at Paltanbazar. A handful of glucose powder helped me to energise myself and to ward off the existing fatigue in the heat and dusty environment. Just as I was relaxing, I could identify our driver lecturing a crowd of people. I got off from the charpoy and moved towards the crowd. The driver was busy entertaining the crowd with tales of gang wars that had been going on in Assam. He was busy boasting how he had been manoeuvering his vehicle from the clutches of various terrorist groups back in Assam. His way of interpreting things had already created a fear psychosis among the listeners. All of these listeners who had assembled were from other states and none of them appeared to have a geographical idea about Assam. I approached the driver and asked him in Hindi, as if to enquire about things back in Assam. He shot back: “Aap to bahar ke admi hai, Assam ke bare mein aap kya jaantey hain, Assam mein to khali oolpha aur tribal aatankbadi ka raaj hein. Raatko to Guwahati mein bhi oolpha log haathiyar leke khooley aam ghoomtein hain. Assam to bhayanak ho gaya.” Little did the driver realise that he had been talking to one whose hometown was in Assam and that too in the capital city. Infact, the driver was trying to create an unnecessary misunderstanding about the state of affairs about Assam. Then I realised that this was one of the reasons why people of other states had a misconception about Assam and its people. The fear psychosis actually spreads everywhere. Pretending to be a helpless passenger, I patiently listened to this individual.
Gradually our vehicle was escorted by army men into the state of West Bengal. Barely had we traversed a few kilometres when all of a sudden, our bus once again developed a technical snag. The gear system of our great “Saha Travels” bus failed to work properly and hence we had to travel at a snail’s pace of around 20 kilometres per hour till finally we reached a place called Hassimara. The time on my watch read 7.25 pm and the hectic events of the day had already started to drain me of my energy. I had already forgotten about my scheduled interview. My fellow seat mate and friend Tapan had dozed off. His pamphlet on “Pest Management of Tea” was still there on his lap, I grasped it and scanned through the pages. However, I was in no mood to study and gave up the effort.
The technical snag was repaired and the bus once again started its journey from Hassimara. At around 10.45 at night we reached Siliguri. It had already been decided between me and Tapan that since by the time we reached Siliguri it would be practically impossible to expect a bus service to Calcutta, hence we would be halting for the night at Siliguri.
However, we saw a ray of hope in the wilderness when we came to know that a bus had been readied at the station, which would be plying to Malda. This bus also had a flat tyre problem and hence its journey had got delayed by a few hours. This was a blessing in disguise for us poor souls and immediately it was decided that instead of halting for the night (which would result in the draining of extra money and time) we would be moving then and there itself, knowing fully well that on reaching Malda (hopefully), we would still have to travel another six or seven hours before we could reach our ultimate destination i.e. Calcutta . Hence we settled for the bargain and boarded the Malda bound bus. Tapan had purchased a few bananas on the way. Fearing a probable stomach upset after eating wayside restaurant food, we had a fill of these ripe bananas along with a few sips of water and some glucose powder (may Tapan live long)! I tried to take a nap. The day’s hectic journey had already robbed us of our precious time and energy and I did not know when sleep overcame me.
The whistling sounds of some policemen awakened me from my slumber. Peeping through the window, I realised that our bus had halted in the middle of the highway. A policeman had already started checking the belongings of the passengers. And a passenger with contraband hasish was accosted before finally our bus was allowed to move on. We did not have any other problems and the next day by 6.45 am, we reached Malda. We disembarked from the bus and, after freshening up, enquired about the next available bus service to Calcutta. Thus we restarted our journey and in the evening, at around 5.40 pm, we reached the Calcutta bus terminus from where we hired a taxi to reach 8th Russel Street where we retired for the evening to face the interview the next day.