The angel appeared and said, “Come.”
I started violently.
“What, already?” I said, “So soon?” His smile held a trace of amusement and some sadness.
“Yes, that’s what they all say. Every one of them thinks I have come before the appointed hour. Too soon.”
“But don’t I even get a chance to prepare myself a little?”
“There is nothing to prepare for. You don’t have to take anything with you, you know.”
In a final attempt to maintain what little pride I had left, I got up without any further protest.
“Very well, then,” I said, my head held proudly erect, “let’s go.”
“Leave your body behind here. You won’t be needing it any more.”
My hands moved over this illusory body of mine, caressed it like a mother loving her child.
“Help me,” I said to him, “come and help me detachmyself from my body.”
So on the broken steps leading into the pond, lay my body, discarded like a wet garment. I descended into the water with him. Formless, we began to fly, hovering over the water, just like dragonflies playing among lotus leaves.
The angel turned to me with some curiosity this time.
“Have you left behind any unfulfilled wishes?” he asked. “Any unsatisfied cravings? Dormant desires, which you could not even admit to yourself? Steps not taken to achieve fame perhaps?”
I stared at him with my sightless gaze for a few moments before answering his questions. “My desire for woman will always remain unsatisfied. So too my yearning for beauty. But that’s of no consequence anymore. For I know I cannot be immortal. One small regret, however, lingers within me – a regret for a game left incomplete.”
“What game are you talking about? A game of dice? You can’t fool me with that one. I know all about the famous tale of a game of dice with Death.”
“No, no, I don’t mean a game of dice. This is something else. Once upon a time, you see, I planted a seed in the earth. From this seed there sprouted a young plant. In time there was a flower, then a fruit, and then a seed from which there grew a new plant. And so it went on, until one day, when, just as the flower bloomed on my tree, I said, ‘Stop!’ The flower stopped. Its fragrance continued endlessly to fill the air, and its petals refused to fall to earth. Sunshine and moonlight lavished themselves on the flower, beseeching it to fade and disintegrate like other flowers – for that is the destiny of a flower. But that flower of mine is still there, untarnished as ever.”
“What are you trying to tell me through all this?”
“Please, believe me, this is not an allegory. It is a happening. Or you may call it my own private game. But I have to set that flower free before I go.”
“Very well then, you can go back.”
“Will you wait for me here? On the bank of this pond? I am a gentleman. I swear to you I will come back.”
Back from the water to the land, I hastily donned my discarded body, just as you pull on a pair of trousers in a hurry, and ran back to my tree. I plucked the flower, tore off the petals one by one and scattered them in the air. Each petal went its own destined way. Then I uprooted the tree and hacked it to pieces with my own murdering hands. The fragrance of my flower lingered faintly, and I breathed a farewell to it.
Afterwards, I retraced my steps back to the water. But the angel was no longer there. He was supposed to have waited for me! Over and over again I called him by name. But no answer came back.
Why did he disappear like that? Was he then afraid? If so, of what?
And, what now will become of me? For I have truly left everything behind. I can never find my way back again.
Excerpted with permission from ‘An Angel Afraid’ in Birdsong in the Night and Other Stories, Sunil Gangopadhyay, translated from the Bengali by Chitrita Banerji, Aleph Book Company.
