The amnesia of Bipin Chowdhury (by Satyajit Ray)

The amnesia of Bipin Chowdhury
A short story by Satyajit Ray

Every Monday evening, on his way back from the office, Bipin Chowdhury would buy a book from Kallicharan's bookshop at New Market. All kinds of detective novels, thrillers, and ghost stories. Unless he bought at least five books, his appetite for the week was not satisfied. He lived alone at home; he didn’t like socialising, his friends were few. Those who came to meet him in the evenings discussed the work at hand and left. For those who wouldn't or didn’t want to, Bipin babu had a standard solution at a quarter past eight: he would say, "My doctor's advised me to have dinner at half-past eight. Hope you don’t mind… " Rest for half-an-hour after dinner, then to bed with a novel. How long the days had passed like this, even Bipin babu could not say for sure.

Today, as he leafed through the books at Kallicharan's shop, Bipin babu was aware of someone standing next to him. He looked up to see a friendly-looking gentleman smiling at him.

"Hello! Maybe you don’t recognise me?"

Bipin babu felt a bit non-plussed. He couldn’t remember ever meeting this man; the face did not even look familiar.

"Obviously you are a busy man. I guess you must be meeting a lot of people everyday, so perhaps"

"Excuse me, but have we met before?" Bipin babu asked.

The gentleman said, a little surprised, "Er... we met for a week, twice a day. I had organised the car for you - the car you drove to Hudrow Falls. That was in Ranchi: '57, no, it was '58. My name is Parimal Ghose.

"Ranchi? " Bipin babu now realised he hadn't made a mistake, this man had. Because he had never been to Ranchi. He had planned to, several times, but he had never got around to it. So, he grinned and said, "And do you know who I am?"

His eyebrows rose as he said, taken aback, "Wouldn’t I know who you are? Who doesn’t know Bipin Chowdhury?"

Turning towards the bookshelf, Bipin babu spoke gently, " Even then, you are mistaken. It happens some times: I have never been to Ranchi."

This time, the man burst into laughter.

"What are you saying, Bipin babu? When you went to see the waterfall, you stumbled on a rock and bruised your knee. I got you the iodine. I had organised a car for you to return to Netarhat the next day, but you couldn't go because you were still hurt. You don’t remember? A friend of yours was also visiting Ranchi: Dinesh Mukherjee. You were staying in a bungalow: you said you did not like the food at the hotels, it was better to hire a cook. Dinesh Mukherjee was staying at his sister's. The two of you were arguing about putting men on the moon, remember? You've forgotten everything? I'll tell you more: you had a shoulder bag, full of novels. Whenever you left home, you carried the bag. There...am I right or not?"

Bipin babu spoke solemnly. "Nineteen fifty-eight: which month are you talking of?"

He said, " During the Puja holidays. August, or perhaps September?"

Bipin babu said," No, definitely not. That year, I spent the holidays at my friend's place in Kanpur. You are mistaken. Excuse me."

But the man would not move. Astonished, he stared at Bipin babu, mumbling, "How odd. I spent an evening with you at your bungalow. You spoke of your family: you said, you had no children, your wife had passed away twelve-thirteen years ago. Your only brother was mad, so you did not want to go see the famous asylum at Ranchi. You said, it reminded you of your brother. "

Even when he was paying for the books and leaving the shop, that man was staring at him.

His Buick was parked at Bertram Street, near Lighthouse Cinema. He told his driver to take a detour before going home: take the road by the Ganges.

Sitting back in the car, letting the riverside winds cool him down, Bipin babu felt sorry. Why had he let that stupid fraud chap waste so much of his time? He had never been to Ranchi, could never have been. No one can forget what had happened just six or seven years ago, unless…

Suddenly, he felt his head spin.

Unless he was going mad. The memory of his brother nagged at him. It could be a family trait; he had heard of it and dreaded it for a long time.

But how could that happen? He was going to office every day, doing his work. A big company, he had such responsibility. He knew of no mistakes he had made. Just today, he had made a half-hour speech at a key strategy meeting. Strange! Yet...

Yet how did the man know so much of him? He seemed to know such personal details: his bag of books, his wife's death, his brother's madness. He was wrong only about Ranchi. Wrong - no, he was lying, lying deliberately. In '58, he was not at Ranchi; he had gone to Kanpur, to stay with his friend Haridas Bagchi. If he just wrote to Haridas, ... no, there was no way he could write to him. For a month now, Haridas was away in Japan on some work connected to his business. He and his family would be there for a few months. Bipin babu did not know his address in Japan; so proof with a letter was not possible.

But why did he need proof? If it were that he was in the dock for a murder in Ranchi in '57 or '58, then the question of proof would be meaningful. There was no need for proof now. He himself knew that he had not been to Ranchi. There, that's all; the matter was resolved.

Even though the winds of the Ganges had cooled him down, a doubt lay lodged in his mind, uneasiness remained. When the car was near Hastings Street, Bipin babu pulled up his trouser legs to find that on his right knee, there was a scar about an inch long. How old the scar was, there was no way of judging. Did he in his childhood cut himself on his knee? In spite of racking his brains, he could not recall any such incident.

They had reached the corner of Chorokdanga when he remembered the mention of Dinesh Mukherjee. That man had said that Dinesh Mukherjee was in Ranchi at the same time. Then he could ask him. He lived nearby - Beninandan Street. Should he go right away? But if this story of going to Ranchi was false, Dinesh might think it odd of him to ask; why, he may even think him mad! No, no, he wasn’t about to act childishly. He could hardly make such a fool of himself. Especially, as he had learnt - unfortunately, the hard way - how sharp Dinesh's scorn could be.

At home, in the cool quiet of his room, sipping his lemonade, he felt less uneasy. All these rascals. Jobless fellows, they spend their time troubling a busy man.

After dinner, as he lay in bed reading the new thriller, Bipin babu forgot about the man at Kallicharan's bookshop.

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The next day at office, Bipin babu noticed that as time went by, the incident at New Market became clearer and clearer in his mind. That round face, the sleepy friendly smile, and that laugh. If he knew all those personal details, how did he make such a mistake about Ranchi?

Just before lunch - at a five to one - Bipin babu could not restrain himself any more. He picked up the telephone directory to find Dinesh Mukherjee's number. It was better to call than meet; the chances of facing his scorn would be much less.

2-3-5-6-1-6. He dialled.

"Hello"

"Hi! Dinesh? This is Bipin here."

"Hi! What news?"

"I just wanted to check if you recall an incident from '58."

"'58? What incident?"

"That year, were you in Calcutta? First, I need to check that. "

"Wait! Wait! '58, fifty eight let me check my diary. Just hold on, please."

A little silence. Bipin babu could hear his heart beeping louder than usual. After almost a minute, Dinesh's voice returned to the phone.

"Got it. I had gone out - twice."

"Where?"

"Once in February, nearby, Kestonagar, to my nephew's marriage. And then, oh! this one you know. That trip to Ranchi. When you also went. That's it. But why do you need to know all this?"

"Ah! Nothing special - just a little thing I wanted to check. Thanks a lot."

He kept the phone down and held his head between his hands; his ears were buzzing, his arms and legs were cold. He ignored lunch. He had no desire for food; his appetite was gone.

As lunchtime neared to an end, Bipin babu realised he could not work in this condition. In his twenty-five years of service, he had never felt like this: he was always known as a tireless worker. His employees feared him; whatever the problem, however critical the situation, Bipin babu had never panicked or blundered. Keeping a cool head, he had always solved all critical situations.

But today, everything seemed to be topsy-turvy.

Returning home at two-thirty, closing all the windows in his bedroom, he lay in bed, trying to calm himself, to make up his mind what to do. People sometimes forget their past - after an accident, or being hit on the head. But to remember everything except for a specific event: he knew of no example of this. For a long time, he had wanted to go to Ranchi. He had been there, but had forgotten it; this was impossible.

Whenever he travelled outside Calcutta, he took his cook with him. But his current cook was a new man; seven years ago, there was Ramswarup. If he had gone, he would certainly have gone with him; but Ramswarup had left three years ago.

Till the evening, Bipin babu locked himself up in his room. He thought that even if someone came today, he wouldn’t meet anyone.

Around seven, his servant came to tell him that Giridhari Prasad had come to meet him. Giridhari Prasad was a rich merchant, a useful person to cultivate, but today, he was in such a state that he had to tell his servant he wasn’t well, he could not come down. Giridhari Prasad could go to hell!

At seven-thirty, the servant reappeared. Bipin babu was just drifting into sleep, a nightmare had just begun when he was woken up. Now who was here? "Chuni babu! He says it is very urgent business."

Bipin babu knew how urgent this business was. Chuni was his classmate from school. These days, he was in bad shape, in desperate need of a job. For a few weeks now, Chuni had been coming to him, hoping for a job, somewhere. It was not possible for Bipin babu to do anything, so he had to tell him 'NO'; but he just wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Irritated, Bipin babu asked his servant to tell Chuni that he would not be available, and not just today; he would not be able to meet Chuni for quite some time.

Just as the servant left, Bipin babu realised that his old school-chum might remember the events of '58. What harm was there in asking him?

He raced down the stairs to the drawing room. Chuni was leaving; at his entrance, he turned around, his face alight with hope.

Bipin babu made no attempt at false politeness. "Chuni, I had a … well, an odd question for you. I know your memory is very good - and you have come here often for a long time. Just see if you can remember - did I go to Ranchi in '58?

Chuni said, "'58? Yes, I think so. Or was it '59?

"You are sure about my going to Ranchi? "

Chuni seemed shocked. "Do you doubt going there? "

"I went? You are sure?"

Chuni was standing, now he sat down on the sofa. Then he looked sharply at Bipin Chowdhury for a few minutes and said, "Are you on drugs? I have never known you to do such things. You are a tough guy, you don’t really care about old friends - all this I knew. But you were always clear-headed, at least that's what I thought up to now."

Bipin babu said in a quivering voice, "You remember my going there?"

Without answering the question, Chuni asked a counter-question: "Do you remember my last job?"

"Yes. You were a booking clerk at Howrah Station."

"You remember that, and you don’t remember my booking your ticket for Ranchi? I saw you off at the station, the fan in your compartment was not working - I got someone to fix it. You have forgotten all this? What's happened to you?"

Bipin babu took a deep breath and collapsed on the sofa.

Chuni said, concerned, "Are you ill? You don’t look well."

"I think so. There's been a lot of stress at work lately. I will probably check out a specialist."

Perhaps because of Bipin's state, Chuni made no mention of his hopes of a job and quietly left the room.

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One could call Paresh Chandra a young doctor; he was less than forty, and seemed younger. His bright and intelligent face clouded over as he heard of Bipin babu's case. Desperate, he was saying,"You have to cure me of this problem. My business is in bad shape because of my absence. These days, there are so many new medicines. Isn't there anything for me? The cost doesn’t matter; if you need to get some foreign medicines, I can organise it. But you must cure my disease."

After some thought, the doctor said, "Do you know what the problem is, Mr. Chowdhury? This is quite new to me: I don’t have any experience in such cases. I can refer you to a good specialist, but I can suggest a simple way out. I don’t know if it will work, but you can try it out: there is no chance of harm."

Anxiously, Bipin babu waited for the doctor to speak.

He said, "As far as I can tell - and I think this is your belief too - you really went to Ranchi, but for some reason, you have completely forgotten the whole trip. I suggest that you go to Ranchi again. Then, you may remember the place and the previous trip. Currently, I don’t think we can do more than this. I will prescribe you a few tablets; these will help you sleep. You need the sleep; otherwise, your uneasiness and illness will increase."

Whether it was the effect of the tablets or the doctor's advice, Bipin babu felt much better the next morning. He called up the office to leave instructions for a train ticket to Ranchi that night.

The next day, he reached Ranchi and felt at the station he had never been here before. Wandering about the town, he soon realised that he was new to the roads, houses, natural scenery, the hills and hotels - everything! Would he be able to recognise Hudrow Falls? Will the waterfall remind him of the past?

Even though he did not believe it would, to avoid any regrets, he organised a car and drove down towards Hudrow in the afternoon.

Late that afternoon, two Gujarati gentlemen from a picnic party chanced upon an unconscious man lying on a heap of stone. Revived by water, Bipin babu's first words were "I can't remember Ranchi. I have lost everything. There's no hope."

The next day, Bipin babu returned to Calcutta. He had realised that unless he solved this mystery, there was no hope for him. His self-confidence, his enthusiasm, his intelligence, judgement - all these he would lose slowly. Finally, would he end up in Ranchi, in that…. ? Like his brother?

Beyond this, Bipin babu could not think anymore.

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When he returned home, he lay in bed, with an ice pack on his head. He asked his servant to call Dr. Paresh Chandra. Before he left, the servant gave him an envelope that had been left in the mailbox. A green envelope, on which was written in red ink, "Sri Bipin Behari Chowdhury. Urgent, very personal".

Though he felt ill, Bipin babu felt it important to read the letter. It read:

Dear Bipin,

I never thought I would see such an impact of your sudden success and newfound wealth. For an old school-chum, was it really all that difficult for you to help out? I have no money, my abilities are few. What I have is my imagination. I spent a fraction of that for a minor revenge.

The man you met at New Market is my neighbour; he is a pretty good actor. Dinesh Mukherjee does not like you; it was easy to convince him to help out. The scar on the knee - that was the fall at Chandpal Ghat - a long time ago: '36, was it?

What else? You'll recover now. A publisher has picked up a novel of mine. Life will go on, somehow for the next few months.

Your friend,

Chunilal

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When Dr. Chandra arrived, Bipin babu said, " I'm fine. As soon as I reached Ranchi station, it all came back to me."

The doctor said,"Very strange! Interesting. I think I should publish your case in a journal."

Bipin babu said, " The reason I called you: could you check my back? I slipped and fell in Ranchi. It really hurts."