Shadow

It is almost mid-night and Bir Singh Chatterjee, the newly elected chief minister is strolling back and forth in his elegant library. He is unable to digest his victory easily. Strolling with him is his shadow, a complete black figure, but his sole companion. Seeing the shadow, Bir Singh thinks that he is a Gandhian leader and at present a chief minister, so even his shadow should not be black. He advances to light the tube light to eliminate the shadow.

“Stop” there comes a strong command as his hand is about to touch the switch. He sees all around but sees no one; he experiences vague fears, his trembling fingers travel again towards the switch, “Stop there only”, and another command. Bir Singh shouts, “Who are you? Come forth, so that I can see you”. There is a muffled laugh which is echoed throughout the library. “Don’t you know me; I have been companion to you all these years. But alas! You always ignored me.” My companion?  Asked Bir Singh, I have always fought alone, and now when I am a winner, you deem to be my companion, I am not to be fooled. Come in front of me from your hiding as I am not going to believe that you are my companion”.

Again there is a muffled laugh which sends a chill through his spine. Hiding and me? Never, I am always before you, I am your shadow, the only witness of your heinous acts, which are labelled by you as social services. Bir Singh is terrified and looks towards the wall facing him and sees his shadow, and observes it for the first time. He is terrified, but controls his fears and replies, “I never commit any kind of heinous acts and I am well known among everyone for a clean-cut figure.

“I know how much clean and cut your figure is, I know all those things which are known only by you and any living being cannot even imagine such things for you. “Don’t you forget that Zarina, the ballerina, whom you black mailed and used as a weapon against your principal opponent and got rid of her once her task was completed. Do you remember the fund for flood-relief, which flooded your Swiss account and whatever reached the flood-affected didn’t give them relief. Why to forget your cabinet minister, whom you ruthlessly murdered for his only guilt, was that he raised his voice against you. And don’t think that I don’t know your relations with smugglers and terrorists and a team of professional murderers used frequently by you.

Bir Singh was sweating and trembling with fear, the drops of water sparkled on his fore-head in the dim light of the night lamp. He was utterly speechless due to the fear of retribution and public denigration if these things were exposed.

Again the dark figure spoke in a fiery voice evincing sorrow and anger. “All these things you have done before you were chief minister, and now when you have gained the chair, you will spread your network of corruption all over and spoil too many innocent lives and sell the nation in foreign hands. So get ready to die, I won’t leave you today, even if it means my own death”. Bir Singh saw two long slender, black and burning hands advancing towards his neck, he wished to shriek, but his voice along with his courage had melted to drops, which were shining over his face and he fell unconscious in his elegant library.

“We have lost a very efficient and a true son of our country, whose dexterity is beyond question, he was well known for his simplicity and fair politics, his death has made a fissure in our hearts, which would never be filled. I do not wish to tell you anything more, as we all know it, that it would be like showing a lantern to the sun, he still shines like a polar star, we can see him whenever we close our eyes, but can’t feel his warmth; Jai Hind; these were the words which made a part of the speech addressed by various dignitaries.

Puzzled were the doctors, who examined the body of Bir Singh, which lay in poignant condition with its right leg bent and white foam from his mouth, his still open eyes indicated some terror beyond description, and his hands were still on his neck.