Radio

It has only been six months since I bought the radio. A good one, the shop – from where I bought it from – told that it had to be charged after every two days, but if one week passed, there was no problem with the charge.

To tell the truth, I actually – desperately – needed the radio. I am a bachelor – the thought of marriage never came to me. I work as the head of a software company, situated in Bowbazar. While working over there, I sometimes felt very lonely and depressed sometimes. So, the eleven hundred prized radio, actually gave some entertainment to me – just to say that I am not alone.

It was the night of 19th July. It had been raining since six, and it showed no signs of stopping that night. Along with that, there was the sound of the thunder and the blue flash of lightning – a truly good night for me and my radio. I turned on my radio, and sat down by the window, watching the surroundings around him. With this device, I don’t know how many decades I go back with this! From The Beatles to Michael Jackson, ‘My Name is Anthony Gonsalves’ to ‘Koi Mil Gaya’ – and many more as well!

At ten that night, after completing supper, I covered myself with a blanket – it was very cold. I looked at the table-clock – 11.10 p.m. Suddenly, I thought to check out the various buttons it had. You might wonder why hadn’t I done that before, for I had been extremely busy from the day I had bought the radio, so I thought: let’s do it.

I got down the radio from the top shelf, and placed it on the top of my bed. The structure was simple: the speaker was on the front side. On the top were six buttons: Play, Pause, Stop, Record, Forward and Backward (single tap for Backward, double tap for Forward), and Other Media.

I had tried out all the buttons, except the record one. I tapped on the ‘Record’ button. At first there was static – I didn’t understand why it happened, but then I remembered that you had to double press it to record something. Pressing it once, you only…

A thought suddenly grappled me: I had not recorded anything since the last six months it had been in my possession. So, how did the static…

My thoughts got interrupted by something, which – to this day – remains a mystery to me.

The *crick* *crick* sound subsided, and then I heard another voice – no, not of static, but the voice of a man. Amidst the growing static, I heard these words:

‘I…..I Sukanta Go…..Goswami…..this is my las…..last se….n. sen…ten…ce……my jo……b….job……jo….b…ha……s fa….i….l…ed….failed. I….I…..can…..can’t t…a….k…e….tak…e…i..t..a…..ny…..mor…e…anymore….so……I’m now h….a….ng…..ing……hanging my….self’

The last broken words terrified me. Whose recording was this? The voice was getting broken off. Suddenly, I heard the loud scream of that man! And then, static, static and static!

I turned off the radio. Silence prevailed for some time. In trembling hands, I put the radio where was it, and then immediately rushed to my bed, and got into my blanket – downright terrified.

That night was one of the most difficult I ever had! Every time I closed my eyes, the voice of that man came to me, whispering the words which I had heard. I then decided, to go over to Alipore – where I had bought the radio, and make an inquiry about this terrifying incident.

The next morning, as according to my plan, I set off for Alipore at nine in the morning - radio in my hand. I couldn’t rest until I knew about what I heard yesterday.

Reaching there, I saw that the shop had just been opened. A young boy was sitting at the counter, checking the register. I asked him, ‘Excuse me, has Mr.Ghosh come?’

‘Yes sir. Please sit on this chair. He will come to you in a while.’

I was just about to take my seat, when Mr.Ghosh – the shop owner and a very good friend of mine – appeared. He greeted me.

‘Good morning, Jayanta! What happened?’

I was beginning to tell him about the incident, when I saw his gaze fixed upon the radio.

Following his gaze, I said, ‘Yes, you guessed it I think. Last night…’

‘…you heard the last sentence of Mr. Sukanta Goswami, right?’ Ghosh interrupted, finishing my sentence.

‘Yes! But how did you know?’

Ghosh sat down on a chair. While cleaning his spectacles he said, ‘This device was manufactured back in March 2018. Its first owner was Sukanta Goswami. But at that time, his job was so over tasking – or so the newspaper said – that he…. you can look over in this book.’

Ghosh then picked up a book from a shelf – a very old one, where Ghosh kept all important news in there – cuttings from newspapers. He indicated to me a page, where a news-cutting covered the whole page.

I stared at it – motionless – at the information given over there.

The news was given as this: 23-year old Sukanta Goswami, was found dead, hanging from his balcony, in his 2/1 Park Street residence. The police told that his death had occurred yesterday – the 19th of July – from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m.

The strange thing was that, the voice which I had heard had occurred around the same time…

‘There is another thing. The police gave me a cassette, which had been found in his bed, and when I heard it, I got goose bumps.’ Saying this, he pulled out a tape-recorder, and that cassette. After three minutes, the recorder started playing, and the voice which I heard was very familiar to me – the words were also very known to me. The cassette contained the voice of a young man, and he was witnessing a special event….

Sukanta Goswami’s last moment.

***

M.Macabre

21.06.2020

Dedicated to: Redi

Image courtesy: Google Images