“35 years…..35 long
years, still it seems just the yesterday when I took oath as a first time MLA”
Mayank Chakrdhari thought, sitting on his favorite chair having two lions
carved on both of its front legs.
The chair was
gifted to him in a large felicitation ceremony when he, later, became the Chief
Minister of state. It was the biggest rally of that time. City Maidan was full
to the capacity. It was flooded with his cutouts and party flags, and when
Mayank Chakrdhari raised his arms in acknowledgement, whole ground had come to
life, at once, with a big naara of “Mayank
Chakrdhari Jindabad”.
Mayank switched
on the TV and the same scene was playing again today. The difference this time was that it was not for him. It was the felicitation ceremony for a new leader.
City ground was again filled with people, cutouts, flags and TV crews. Earlier
there was only Dordarshan and it took
around two days for news to reach people. Now everything was on TV, live. The
new leader was made to sit on a similar chair on which he was sitting.
“History repeats
itself, only the Actors change” sighed he.
Lawn of his
house was full of flowers. Gardening was his new hobby. He has brought the best
varieties of flowers, nurtured them for months and in this winter season, lawn
was filled with different varieties of beautiful flowers. He looked at it
proudly and asked Shayamlal, his helper of many years, to bring the chair in
lawn, along with the newspapers. Afternoon sun was glowing in a cool winter
day. There was a time when this lawn used
to be filled with people, never allowing the grass to grow. It always had
barren spots in the middle which Mayank disliked immensely. But now though the
grass has grown, uniformly, all over the lawn, but what he missed, now, was the
company of his people.
Mayank had
wanted to promote flower export from the state during his tenure because
climate and soil were suitable for horticulture. But he was forced to shelve
the plan as his colleges felt it would seen as generous grant for his castemen-
he belonged to a caste which was known for gardening skills. He agreed and
rejected the proposal from a private enterprise which wanted to enter into an
agreement for flower export from the state. Many other such projects were also
shelved for one or other similar reason. Later on, same colleagues questioned
his commitment towards the development of the state. Mayank closed his eyes and
a faint smile of realization was apparent on his face.
He asked Shayamlal
to call the new leader. He wanted to wish him. Shayamlal informed that he could
not connect to the new leader. Mayank didn’t say anything and simply nodded his
head, but deep within, he knew that the new leader had refused to talk. Mayank
was not even invited for the function. In his prime, Mayank could not attend all
the functions he was invited for, and now he waited for invites so that he
could meet some people. It was very lonely at this secluded quarter. His son had
moved to US, daughter was happy with her family and wife left some years ago
out of illness.
“Yeh duniya agar
mil bhi jaae to kya hai….” these immortal lines came on their own and he started
singing.
Mayank left the lawn
when the Sun went deep west and went to his bedroom. He didn’t open the door
till afternoon next day. Worried Shayamlal knocked on door but got no reply. Intuitionally,
he informed both, police and ambulance, together. News spread like a wild fire
and the new leader announced that Mayank would be cremated with full state
honours. People kept pouring in to pay their obeisance to the departed soul. News
channels ran special programs on him for the whole day.
“The world which
had rejected him in life, has embraced him in his death” thought Shayamlal,
standing in the corner of the house. He brought some flowers from the lawn and
put them along the body of Mayank.
(Embedded photo courtesy Google Images)
