Bhaskar, shared his name with the Sun God. Though not religious he respected the majesty and power that was associated with his name. Today was a very important day for him. As he readied his satchel his mind drifted back to the earlier days of his life. He had finished his B.A. from the Government College of Coimbatore. He had performed well and had secured a silver medal — a prized possession that was hidden away in a dark and dusty cupboard of his ancestral home in Coonoor. He had always liked to debate and discuss politics. On completing his degree, he decided to take up the civil services examination. Two failed attempts later Bhaskar found himself as a teacher in a Govt School in Madurai. He taught little children English and Tamil. At first he oversaw Classes 1 to 4 but in a couple of years he was teaching students from Classes 4 to 8.
Bhaskar loved teaching the young children. He knew that he was providing his students essential skills that would help them throughout their lives. While the other teachers would absent themselves from time to time, Bhaskar was very punctual and took his job very seriously. Government schools are known for inefficiency, understaffing, and very large student to teacher ratios. But Bhaskar would never do a shoddy job. He took his students on a journey of understanding and discovery. From the history of the alphabet, to the basic rules of grammar, onward to the power of metaphor and the magic of poetry, Bhaskar ensured his students would ignite their imaginations and take flight as delightful practitioners of ancient and beautiful languages. During his time as a teacher he had been exposed to various political movements. He was a keen follower of politics and wrote articles and opinions on things he felt strongly about. While he never wrote anything that could be considered inflammatory, his thoughts were radical. He was a staunch supporter of Hindi integration in the Tamil way of life. The rest of India functioned mostly in Hindi while the average Tamilian could hardly speak the language. This caused him great grief. He had even started taking Hindi tuitions on weekends for students who were interested at no extra charge.
Get Alok Jain’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
As time went on Bhaskar was married to Kanimozhi. She was a journalist with a leading Tamil newspaper. She covered political events. Bhaskar knew that their interests aligned and had married her without a second thought. They spent long weekends arguing about the latest turn of events. Opinions were laid bare and discussed, debated and on some very good days, agreement was finally reached. It took Bhaskar about a year to figure out that his wife was a sympathizer of the Tamil Eelam. She felt motivated to join the cause of the Tamils fighting for independence in Sri Lanka. At first he tried to reason with her but as time went on he realized her mind was made up. After 2 years of marriage, ‘Kani’ as he fondly called her, decided to leave home.
A year after her departure she decided to contact him again. She had come to bid him goodbye. The LTTE had designated her to the suicide bomber squad and they were going to finish of an important target. The target was a member of the Sri Lankan parliament who had come to Madras on a diplomatic mission. He had been very vocal against the LTTE and was inclined to fight the LTTE with greater military might. Bhaskar had tried very hard to persuade her from giving up on the mission but her mind was made up. She provided him a few details of the attack. The target would be presiding as the Chief Guest at an event in a private school. His felicitation would be the trigger for the attack.
Which brings us back to the present. Bhaskar is adjusting his satchel and sitting under the canopy of a tent. In the backdrop is the administrative office with a stage built to the side to seat the graduating students. The playground has been covered with carpet, and chairs are neatly arranged for parents to watch as their wards proceed to a new chapter in their lives. Bhaskar has arrived early and is seated in the corner of the front row. He notices Kani among the support staff who are helping with the last-minute stage setup. As Kani walks out of the stage and beyond the tents, Bhaskar scales the barricade and stealthily follows Kani. As soon as he turns and enters the administrative building he notices a makeshift changing room. Kani is inside and is donning the explosive laden belt with which she hopes to take the Minister into oblivion. Bhaskar removes a sickle from his satchel, knocks on the door and slashes Kanimozhi’s neck. Her scream reverberates across the playground and a security guard with a loaded gun enters the scene. He quickly takes aim and shoots.
Bhaskar’s father is performing the last rites of his son. Bhaskar is placed on a pyre of wooden logs waiting to be lit. His lips are curved in a gentle eerie smile. His father remembers a particularly happy day from the past. Bhaskar was just 6 years old. His father had taken him to a tea plantation. The fog had just lifted and the entire valley was visible. It was as if nature had scooped the earth to form a bowl filled with green tea and the pleasant smell of Spring. It was a viridian wonderland. In the distance the toy train was chugging along, topped with a plume of cloudy smoke. The birds were chirping and their pet dog was barking and wagging its tail in a playful manner. Bhaskar, generally a dull and grouchy boy, had broken into a smile.
