Word Of Honour – By Bhaskar Banerjee

In the year 1969 or ‘7o, almost 48 years back, I was merely teenaged then and my father late Basudeb Banerjee who was a police officer and greatly admired for his honesty and dedication to his profession was a good writer also. Some stories written by him were published in magazines of that time. One day he told me a story as he used to do occasionally in his pass time. Here I’m recollecting one of his story he told me that struck me greatly and I can’t forget till date. While he narrated the story he added that it was not a story but a fact he experienced in his life.

Well, I do not request you to remind Shakespeare’s drama “Hamlet” or “Aerial” of ‘The Tempest’, but when I was only 25 years of old a very peculiar incident happened to me which dominates my memory to this day.

I served as a 2nd Officer of Police in a remote village police station of the Southern part of Bengal. Beside the Officer-in-charge, we were two officers and just about ten constables was the total strength of that police station. I had a soft corner for a Muslim constable named Abbas Khan. He was very faithful, dutiful, obedient and moreover, he possessed a peculiar type of strong commonsense which helped me many times. Therefore, I used to take him to investigate the crime cases happened to our jurisdiction.

I had a hobby of photography and at that time I had a very costly imported camera of my own. Wherever I used to go I took the camera and Abbas with me. Abbas had also a very good sense of photography because his last posting was in the Photography Section of the Central Investigation Department. He used to handle my camera occasionally. I did never mind that. Once he accompanied me to a place of occurrence of a sensational theft case, while returning Abbas told me very submissively, “Sir, could I make a request to you?” “What ?”- I asked him. “Sir, I need your camera for some days”. “Why”?- I inquired. He told me that at the end of the month he would go for two weeks leave to attend a marriage ceremony in their family at a remote village of Basirhat Sub-Division and he would snap photographs there.

In those days it was very difficult to reach the destination where Abbas was to go. First of all, one would reach Basirhat by bus and from the bus-stand to Abbas’s village is almost six miles. I asked Abbas how he would cross that six miles to reach his home. He replied -simply on foot. I agreed to hand him over my precious camera, provided that had to be returned me intact. Abbas exclaimed, “Sir, my Word of Honour in the name of Allah, I promise nothing would happen of your camera and it would be returned to you safely.” Abbas got the leave, packed the camera very safely and left the place by boat. I accompanied him up to the ferry-ghat, once-again reminded him about the safety of my camera. Abbas cried out, “Sir, rely on my Word of Honour”.

I was busy with my duty and forgot about the days of return of Abbas and one fine morning while working, an Ast Sub Inspector, Nareshbabu reminded me, “Sir, 15 days have already been passed but your Abbas did not return and even he did not send any message to Office about his whereabouts.” I became much perturbed thinking about my precious camera which I loved more than my heart and rashed into the room of Officer-in-Charge and asked him, “Sir, any information of Abbas from Reserve Office, Alipur?” He replied, “No, I wonder, Mr Banerjee, what about Abbas.” I narrated everything to O.C. He rebuked me much and at last said, “I must send a message to Alipur asking about the whereabouts of Abbas, wait and see.” Immediately I applied for 10 days leave and got it sanctioned. One fine morning I left for the destination to Abbas. I was very much anxious because within that period no report reached from Alipur office about Abbas.

At the late noon, I got down from the bus. I asked some persons about the village of Abbas. They told that it would be at least three miles and had to go on foot. However, I tried to walk as fast as I could to reach the destination. I found people working in the field far away but I did not meet anybody on the way. After nearly an hour it became afternoon. All of a sudden a thin bush just at the sudden turn of my path I heard somebody calling me, “Sir, sir, hear me.” I turned back and found to my extreme astonishment, Abbas, came out from the bush and stood in front of me. He told me hurriedly, “Sir, sir, my Word of Honour. I can’t accompany you but Please go to my home which is just a furlong from here and asked my father about the particular corner of the eastern part of my thatched hut and there you will find your beloved Camera. Please go, be hurry, I’ll meet you here.”Abbas hurriedly entered the bush again. I cried out at the top of my voice, “Hello, Abbas, Abbas, hear me, hear me.” But no reply came from him. I stopped for a while. In those days villagers used to ease themselves in such places so, I thought that Abbas was in hurry to ease himself. However, I went straight for 10 minutes and found an old Muslim gentleman coming towards me. I was in uniform. The old man stopped before me. I asked him innocently, “Well, do you know Abbas’s house?” The old man enquired, “Are you from Police Station?” I disclosed my identity and to my extreme amazement the old man burst out crying, uttering the name of Abbas. I was completely at a loss. I could not understand anything. The crying old man took my hand and led me to his house. All the members of the family burst out crying when I uttered the name of Abbas. I asked them, “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?” The old man said, “Sir, Abbas is no more. He passed away nearly ten days back suffering from sudden food-poison.” I being stupified sat down on the floor of the hut with a thud. I became completely at a loss and chills run down the spine. My voice became choked with freight. Everything suddenly became pitch black to me. They brought water and sprinkled on my head and face and after some time I came to my sense. I asked them for water, And then being in somewhat normalcy I said “What are you saying, is it true? I met Abbas just now a few yards back beside a thick bush and he told me about my Camera.” I told them everything in detail. All the members of the family became dumb and requested me to show the place where I met Abbas. They asked the Moulabi of that village to accompany us. I took them to the exact place where I met him. Tears were rolling down from the eyes of the aged father of Abbas and others gathered there. And I too was sobbing. The old man said, “Sir, this is our family ‘Burial Ground’. Here we buried Abbas some days back. I could not understand how you met him.” I told them emphatically, “Yes, I met him. Believe me.” And at last, the village Moulabi appeased them saying, “The Police Officer is correct, it is Abbas and he kept his words even after death.”