The Daily Blackberry (Continued part 3)

"দ্য ডেইলী ব্ল্যাক বেইরী"র শেষ কয়েকটি পর্ব যোগ করা হলো সচলায়তনের পাতায়। প্রকাশিত আগের পর্বগুলো পড়ার জন্য ধন্যবাদ সবাইকে।
এই দীর্ঘ ছোট-গল্পটি খুব শীঘ্রই আমার ব্যাক্তিগত ওয়েবসাইটে যোগ করা হবে আমার আরও অন্যান্য প্রকাশিত উপন্যাসের সঙ্গে।

"দ্য ডেইলী ব্ল্যাক বেইরী"র শেষ পর্বে আপনাদের সমন্তব্য অংশগ্রহন আশা করছি।

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The Daily Blackberry - Continued
- A Long Short-Story
By Maskwaith Ahsan

( All characters and incidents are fictitious. Any resemblance to any one alive or dead is mere coincidence. The author cannot take responsibility for his vivid imagination.)

[Previously on Blackberry]

... ... ...

The Pianist

This is not about Roman Polanski’s Pianist, but a 60-plus youthful German and former head of the Blackberry. An Indology expert, secular at heart, humane by nature and a very good pianist, it was Dr Mueller who encouraged Rakesh into the world of Blackberry. Rakesh remembers the days when the house was a Whiteberry. Integration, peace and tolerance were Dr Mueller’s strengths. In sharp contrast to Lucifera he was a great admirer of above-average journalists. He believed in freedom of expression and association. Censorship was the most disliked word in his dictionary.

Sitting alone at the coffee corner Rakesh cherishes the golden days gone by. Compared to Lucifera’s iron curtain Mueller’s was a regime of happiness. He was not a demi-god but a true human being who would take journalists out on tours to places like Lorelei where nature and vineyards are at their best. Those were trips with a beautiful mind.

In the name of gender balance Lucifera promotes unprofessional commonwealth entertainers and dislikes good female journalists who are indifferent to his advances. Dr Mueller, on the other hand, was a fatherly figure, equally affectionate to both men and women. From politics to horizontal range of music and art, Mueller could discuss on everything worth discussing. Rakesh could never impress him with his index knowledge but sometimes his discourse on Upanishads really caught Dr Mueller’s attention.

The happiest moments of life are often the shortest. When Dr Mueller decided to leave Blackberry, the dusk of freedom also decided to scroll into the dungeons of darkness. Luci’s take-over was a cruel sunset; one without a Battle of Plassey. Rakesh sits dejectedly like an orphan. Luci’s commonwealth girls are scared to share a table with him, as they have been instructed to stay away from those who refuse to show unconditional subordination. It’s tough on these weak-at-work girls. But they have to ensure contracts for themselves before they reach their menopause twilight.

Luci’s Bonfire

While I write the last chapter of my long short story Lucifera is celebrating the anniversary of the Sub-continent’s independence in the colony of his Blackberry. An Indian island still ruled by Lord Clive. The irony of the evening is that Luci gets to cherish his own little colony where Naira cooks Indian food, Iqbal refills his wine glass, Nanny dances in his grasp, Tahmida ensures an environment filled with horse-laughter, Jarina cleans up after dinner, Gobi accompanies him like a psychophant-shadow and at least five interns playing music for the ball. These are the five puppets who have all been promised the same single available post. The perfect doctrine of cannibalism. A fight till death.

Those good journalists recruited by Dr Mueller stand in a corner. Luci keeps an eye on them. Diya’s eyes roll like surveillance cameras. I feel sorry for the likes of Rakesh and Rodela, caught up in Luci’s guantanamo. But that’s not all. Luci is also celebrating the departure of a colonizer from West India Company, who could lure the minds of both the good and the bad. August 9: the day Quit India Movement started is also the day Luci’s invisible colonizer left Blackberry. But there is a difference: that of the hungry beggar and the fasting monk.

The colonizer has departed but Luci still suffers from hallucinations. As if the Mask of Zorro cannot be removed. Dear Luci, look at me. I am the DJ now. Tonight you and your troupe will have to do mujra for me. Hold on. Stop. Let me ignite my cigarette. Don’t worry. It’s not your pyre. I will give you more time....