Lost!

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Lost!

Khaled

Musafir is known to be a handicap in the Bengal society. He has squinted eyes and spiked hair for which he is ridiculed by everyone in the village. Whenever he enters the village hotel for drinking tea, all the people in the hotel start a “party” with him and disturbs him by all means. They hold his hairs tight and poke him on his waist but Musafir only has a scowl on his face which is his usual response at being annoyed. Though, I am involved in mocking him with other villagers, I personally believe that he is from another “another planet” and he is unable to settle with us.

He writes scriptures with such a language which is unknown to everyone, even to the greatest scholar and witty person among us, Sufi Bhai. All of us, including Sufi Bhai, don’t give importance to his work at all. No one knows what is his name and when asked he stares at the inquirer and at last the questioner comes to a conclusion that Musafir is mad. This name is given by us which means gypsy or nomad. Likewise, his family background is unknown to us. He lived in a small hut, just as if a picturesque on the top of a mound. The four walls in his hut is filled with amazing creative pictures and some kind of construction plans.

But alas! None cares them at all. That’s why, he has a grudge against all of us. However, it is ususal that the aesthetic sense of a lunatic would mean just another idiosyncrasy to common villagers.

For a few days, we–the villagers is being noticing that Musafir is not coming out of his home. And to our astonishment, Musafir directly declared not to let anyone of us in within the next three days. We are very anxious because an attraction towards forbidden things is human nature. He did not seem to bother us despite the punishments which are decided against him if he doesn’t open his door. Finally, Musafir neglected the village Chairman himself!

Finally, after breaking into his house, we watched what he had been doing for these days without keeping any relationship with other villagers. He is apparently a debtor to all of us. As he is suppsedly an orphan, he receives charities from all the well-being villagers. Even all his bills in the local hotel are paid by our landlord – only because he was handicapped. He has no right to misuse our money in such a manner.

We weren’t ready to believe what we have just seen in his home. A twin brother of Musafir greeted us in a hoarse voice. Musafir, himself, stood at an angle towards his brother. He held a square box, consisting of several switches, towards his brother. His brother’s voice indicated that he was very near to his death.

The Chairman asks him, “Why have you hidden your twin brother for so many years away from us? Why have you tortured him to death?” Before he finishes, Musafir begins to nod as his spiked hair swirls through the air. Then he begins, “No! You are terribly mistaken! It’s a robot!”

-“Now don’t give tell me all those cock and bull stories about Robots. We have never even heard of such a word! Sufi Bhai! Did you ever hear anything like that in your whole lifetime?” Sufi Bhai nervously and instantly responds, “No, never!” Musafir then tries to explain that a robot is a machine that can do all the works that human beings do. “But how can a human being make another human being?” The same question arises in everyone’s mind which is given in a form of speech by the Chairman. Before Musafir could respond against the allegation, Chairman roars at him, “It’s enough, Musafir! You have deceived us all. You act like a disabled person. Undoubtedly, your acting is more than perfect, but this time, you’re caught red handed my boy!” To make all of us believe that the robot was not his twin brother, Musafir shows everyone that it was made of iron. Sufi Bhai promptly gives an explanation to this. “Look, my people! Musafir has a family outside our village. I will try my best to fin out if you all assist me. And now, this freaky magician hypnotizes his own brother to gain all the paternal belongings and make it all his own! Chairman, such a black magician like Musafir should not remain alive for a moment longer. I recommend we hang this cover-up artist and liar.He wasted enough of our money and belongings. He must be executed right now!” Sufi Bhai’s interpretation was enough to convince the authority. Musafir cannot be allowed to utter a word.

Accordingly, the following morning, he is hanged to death. We unanimously decide to burn all his belongings as it would only bring more curse on our village. But we are astound to find nothing in his home. Everything has magically vanished along with his death as if he has taken it away to afterlife. Curiously, just after Musafir’s death, we never found Sufi Bhai in our village!