29/04/2019
Where the Good Roads Ends, There Starts Murshidabad
On our road odyssey to Nepal, we made a halt nearby a mosque In Murshidabad in WB. On the entrance, we met a long beard middle-aged man with sharp eyes and pointed nose being wrapped in a spiritual halo. He was burning a sweet potato for his breakfast. Our greetings broke the ice and our Keralite lineage made him talk. His name was Kajim. Through a very moving narrative, he unveiled us how deeply disillusioned the Murshidabad youth is.. how the land is starving.. how ill-educated the new generation is..how under-developed the region is.. his welled-up eyes said no one is coming to the Madrasa pointing to the huge empty building in front of us while sharing a burnt potato with us. On our way back home, we were happy to meet him again. He recognised and tried to make a broad smile with his clear eyes but his face could not hide the sadness at all. Intriguing, we soon realised he has nothing for breakfast. Silence spread. As he was stroking his long grey beard looking into the wilderness outside, We were all in tears and Kajim was numb. Staying for a while, We cooked and shared some food with him. Leaving him, we were all disturbed. Sad and moved.
Murshidabad seems like an ostracized land. Truly a Dark India. Ever since we met Kajim this Ramadan has got new meanings for us.
Thank you Abdul Rasheed Bavus for wordings.
Untold stories| Murshidabad
