Salisbury! What a day dream!
Today he stands on the sidewalk of a really big European type city. Big houses, banks, hotels, shops, wide back roads, electric trams running on one side, Zulu rickshaw pullers pulling rickshaws, selling paper paper. Everything seems to be new, as if he had never seen these scenes in his life.
He has come to the locality, but he is absolutely penniless. He doesn't even have money for a cup of tea. He was very happy to see an Indian shop nearby. How long have you not seen the face of your countrymen. The shopkeepers are Muslims, wholesalers of soaps and perfumes. Very large store. Seeing Shankara, he understood that he was miserable and in danger. He helped himself to two rupees and asked to meet a big Indian businessman.
With two pockets of money, Shankar stood in the way again. When he came, he said, "Thank you very much for the two rupees." I borrowed it from you, but if you have money in your hand, you have to take this money. An Indian restaurant in front. If he could not curb the greed for some good food, how long he did not give civilized food! He went there and ate puri, kachuri, haluya, meat chop and cake for one taka. With two or three cups of coffee.
He glanced at an old piece of paper on the tea table. In one place it is written in large letters on the headline:
National Park Survey Party’s Singular Experience
A lonely Indian found in the desert
Dying of thirst and exhaustion
His strange story
When Shankar saw it, a photo of him was also printed on the paper. A completely fictional story has also been given to his face. He has never told such a story to anyone.
The name of the newspaper is 'Salisbury Daily Chronicle'. He went to the newspaper office and introduced himself. The crowd gathered around him. It is learned that the reporter's team tried hard to find him. Shankar got fifty rupees for telling the story of breaking his leg in Chimanimani mountain and taking photos. Before that he came with two pieces of money from that kind Muslim shopkeeper.
He wrote an article on volcanoes. If you name the volcano in it - 'Mount Alvarez'. But this is the story of such a huge living volcano hidden in the forests of Central Africa — whether one believes it or not. He didn't even let anyone know about the steam in the cave of Abishi Ratna. People will run in groups in search of him.
Then I went to a bookstore and bought a bunch of English books and magazines. How long have you not read the book! If you see a picture in a movie in the evening. Sometime later, at night, while reading a book under the electric light in a nice hotel bed, she would occasionally look out the window at Prince Albert Victor Street below. Trams are going downstairs, rickshaws are going, bells are ringing in Indian coffee shops, sometimes two-wheelers are also going. It seemed like another picture — a pool of fire in front, a group of coyotes and hyenas sitting in a circle in the distance. Behind them, the wolf's two round eyes are burning like a fire in the darkness.
Which dream? That terrible night spent in Chimanimani mountain, or tonight?
In the meantime, Shankar has become a famous man in Salisbury.
The reporter's crowd filled his hotel hall all the time. The newspaper man comes to contract to print his travelogue, someone comes to take photos.
He informed the Italian Consul General about Attilio Gatti. Old documents from his office revealed that Attilio Gatti, an aristocratic Italian youth, had been killed after a shipwreck off the Portuguese coast of West Africa in August 189. Then no trace of the young man was found. His relatives are rich and aristocratic people. From 1890-95, they set fire to consulate offices in East, West and South Africa in search of their missing relatives, and prizes were announced. They had given up since 1895.
With the help of the aforementioned Muslim shopkeeper, he sold four stones for Rs. The price of the other two items went up even more, but Shankar wants to take those two stones to the country to show to his mother. He has no intention of selling now.
The blue sea.
Standing on the deck of a Bombay-bound ship, Shankar thought of this adventure of his life as he watched the coconut bansham shores of the Portuguese port of Beira in East Africa. This is life, this is how he wanted to enjoy life. Human life is the wrong measure of human life. He has enjoyed ten years of life this year and a half. Today, he is not just a wanderer, but a co-discoverer of a living volcano. He will make Mount Alvarez famous in the world. Far from the Indian Ocean, the birthplace of the motherland, the holy land of India, his mind has now become restless. His mind is curious as to when the high peak of the Rajabai Tower in Bombay will announce the proximity to the coast of the motherland from afar. Their dinghy will go to the bank of the river in their bud tree.
Goodbye! Alvarez friend! মনে In this happy moment of returning to your homeland, today seems to be your word. You are the people of that group, the whole sky whose roof is the house, the whole world whose footpath. Bless from the lonely tomb of your majesty, so that I may be like you in life, so carefree in happiness and sorrow, so fearless.
Goodbye! Friend Attilio Gatti! You were a friend for many births.
You have all learned how true that ancient Chinese rhyme is.
Better a poor horse than no horse at all. Better a poor horse than no horse at all. Better a poor horse than no horse at all. Better a poor horse than no horse at all.
He will have to return to Africa again. Now the pull of the homeland is a big pull. Now he will spend some time in the lap of his homeland. He will then try to set up a company in the country.
.. Appendix.
While in Salisbury, Shankar met Dr. Fitzgerald, the famous biologist, curator of the South Rhodesian Museum, especially to tell him about Bunip. Shortly after returning to the country, he received the following letter from Dr. Fitzgerald:-
The South Rhodesian Museum
Salisbury, Rhodesia,
South Africa
January 12,1911
Dear Mr. Chowdhury,
I am writing this letter to fulfil my promise to you to let you know what I thought about your report of a strange three toed monster in the wilds of the Richtersveld Mountains. On looking up my files I find other similar accounts by explorers who had been to the region before you, specially by Sir Robert McCulloch, the famous naturalist, whose report has not yet been published, owing to his sudden and untimely death last year. On thinking the matter over, I am inclined to belive that the monster you saw was nothing more than a species of anthropoid ape, closely related to the gorilla, but much bigger in size and more savage than the specimens found in the Ruwenzori and Virunga Mountains. This species is becoming rarer and rarer every day, and such numbers as do exist are not easily to be got at on account of their shyness and the habit of hiding themselves in the depths of the high-altitude rain forests of the Richtersveld. It is only the very fortunate traveller who gets glimpses of them, and I should think that in meeting them he runs risks proportionate to his good luck.
Congratulating you on both your luck and pluck.
I remain,
Yours sincerely
J.G. Fitzgerald