EXCERPTS FROM MY NON- FICTION WORK - BLIND MAN'S TRAVELOGUE , DEAD MAN'S DIARY
Chapter 1:
Welcome ‘Eyes’
So, your eyes have started reading me. Funny, isn’t it? A ‘sighted’ man reading a blind man .You know,I said to Sam, my publisher, ‘Do you think they will ever read my book’ to which he replied ‘I really don’t care’. ‘Three-fourth of the year we just publish anything and everything... cheap sex, failed love stories, murders, vampires, gay and lesbians...’ . ‘And the remaining one-fourth?’ I asked. ‘We just publish absurd’ Sam replied. ‘Absurd?’ I got a bit confused to which he laughed loudly. ‘Don’t you think a blind man writing a travelogue that too with the likes of Marco Polo and Vasco Da Gama in it is very much absurd’ he said. ‘Ok,’ I said, ‘so have you read it?’. To which Sam replied ‘I don’t read, I just publish’.
So, may I know your name please? Nothing very important you know, but it helps me to connect .By the way, can I call you Eyes? Nice name hah .I know you must have got angry by now, thinking you wasted your money buying the book.I wonder Eyes, what made you go for it? The title, the short write-up at the back, thinking you might find some cheap sex in it? Or like Sam ...since it’s ‘just absurd’. Eyes, you also think it’s absurd? A blind man’s travelogue? Isn’t it? Tell me frankly... you also think I can’t travel like you hah...countries, places, monuments. But I do, Eyes. I travel every day, to those places where you perhaps have never set your foot. Eyes, you think it’s all dark for me, isn’t it? People say eyes are the window to your heart. For me, they are just useless. But it’s not dark Eyes, as you think. My world is very colourful you know, more like a rainbow. Eyes, I see people like you every day, I tread places, I even observe women you know, not with my eyes though but with my head. Eyes, you know I never met Sam, my publisher before he came to me and said he wants to publish my book. I was surprised Eyes for he knew all the stories I shared with Dead Man.
It all happened on a freezing night I think. I was dozing off in my rocking chair. Chintu had put a thin blanket on me. A small boy, perhaps two- three years old, I really don’t know. He has got a happy smile, Eyes. He calls me ‘Dauu’ can’t pronounce properly, words dissolving in his mouth with a sweet fragrance. My doors are always opened Eyes, and Chintu comes in whenever he wishes to tell me his stories. You know, we both have a lot in common. We imagine things. Like last month, when Chintu’s parent went to Kashmir and left him behind due to cold and unresolved fear, he imagined Kashmir. Eyes, you know what he said to me? ‘Dauu, you know Catch-me is full of snow and gun’. I was surprised. ‘How do you know, Chintu’ I asked. ‘I just saw in my head’ he said. I smiled and held my right hand out in the air. He caught my hand and played caterpillar walk on it.
Eyes, I think Chintu also came that night. He must have found me dozing and had put the blanket on me, switching of the television. I remember before I slept off they were speaking about some disturbance and revolution in Egypt. I don’t remember what time of night it was, when I woke up to a strange noise. ‘Who is it’ I said, a bit loudly out of fear. ‘Relax, you can’t see me...no one can see me’ the voice said and I laughed. You know Eyes what I said to him. ‘I don’t know about others, but yes I can see you’. To which he laughed. ‘Really’ he said, ‘then tell me how I look’.
Eyes, you know how I see and imagine? by hearing those voices. Each one has a distinct tinkle to it. Sweet voices, harsh voices, arousing voices. I remember my mother and her sweet voice after my birth. Then slowly it changed to agony and I heard her subdued cries at night. I felt the wetness of her pillows. Like my father’s harsh voice of despair. The son he dreamt of which he never got. You know Eyes, like when I hear a sweet voice ringing like the chandelier in my ears, I imagine her size...a ripe mango or more of a melon. ‘You look more like a mist’ I said to the voice. It moved a bit before settling somewhere near. ‘What’s your name?’ the same voice asked. ‘Blind Man...and your’s’ I enquired. ‘Dead Man’ he said. ‘Nice, so what your want’ I said. ‘Your doors are open...thought you were expecting me’ he laughed. ‘My doors are always open, Dead Man’ I said to him. Eyes, you can also come some day. Would love to have a cup of tea with you if you can make me one and share my stories with you. But I must tell you beforehand, I don’t share my opium reserve with anyone. Sorry, Eyes. But it’s the only thing I love the most, it dissolves all the pain and push me to a new world. A beautiful world, I must say with wings. Ok Eyes, I know you are getting restless to know the story so let’s get straight into it.
‘So Blind man, have you ever gone places?’ Dead man asked. ‘Yes, I said ...alone at times...and at times with great travellers’. ‘Great travellers...hmm...Like?’ . A cold wind went passed me. ‘Are you feeling cold, dead man?’ I said. ‘No, I really don’t feel much...you continue’. ‘ You see ,by great travellers I meant the likes of Marco Polo, Hsuan Tsang, Ibn-Batuta,Vasco Da Gama and of most recent times..Swami Keshavanand’.
‘Interesting’ Dead man said. ‘ You know blind man, I am maintaining a diary and I really think your travelogues would do great to it’ . Surprised to see a dead man writing a diary, I asked ‘what’ there in your diary?’. ‘I draw pictures of hope and faith’ he said. Eyes, this made me laugh, and laugh loudly. Hope and faith for a Dead man. Just as a Blind man’s travelogue made you laugh. I think it made him angry for he asked, ‘Don’t you believe in God?’. ‘My God is very dark, dead man’ I said. ‘For the time I was born, I had always heard he never listens to those who can’t please him. And, how can I, Dead man? You see, I am blind’. ‘Ok’ he said ‘but my God is still fresh in my heart...leave it, tell me about your adventures’.
Eyes, I thought which one to start with caz there were many. You know Eyes, once I lost my way to a local brothel. ‘Hey, what do you want here’ a loud shrill voice came from behind. Eyes, she perhaps had betel nut in her mouth. I was afraid you know. ‘I have lost my way’ I mumbled. ‘Then you have come to the right place’ they all laughed. Someone hold my hand and took me ahead. It was a soft hand Eyes, concealed by a hard cover. As I walked, I heard those moaning noises. Strange, moaning noises. I wanted to run away, but all looked same. It always looked the same Eyes, from my birth. But Eyes, I think dead man is waiting and I must go to that story.
‘There’s plenty Dead man, stories of my travels and adventures’ I said. ‘Start with anyone, it doesn’t really matter’ Dead man said somewhat sounding like Sam. ‘Ok, I will start with the story which Marco Polo said to me while standing on the Great Wall of China’ I remarked.
Note from the Author :
This is the Author Saptarshi Basu here, Eyes. I am sorry if I bored you and if not, then thanks...do visit the page as Blind man will speak to you soon...
About the author:
Saptarshi Basu, a Gold Medallist in Mechanical Engineering, has been in IT industry for last 8 years and has worked for the top 3 IT companies of India (INFOSYS,TCS & WIPRO). However, writing has always been first love, his passion. His Debut novel- LOVE {LOGIC} AND THE GOD'S ALGORITHM is now a national best-seller in Infibeam, a premier online store.
His second Novel , AUTUMN IN MY HEART published by Vitasta Publishing with Times group launched in november'11 has already created a lot of stir due on causes of broken heart and homosexuality.
Blogging and travelling are the biggest pursuit of him. He maintains a blog called http://saptak-firsttry.blogspot.in/ which had huge following with visits from all over the world. He had subsequently travelled and lived in London, Toronto, San Francisco, Dubai till he came back to Kolkata, his hometown.
Saptarshi Basu also does screenplay writing for movies and columns for some online magazines
