‘There are more unsung heroes than those in history pages.’ Manik babu said in his inimitable way. ‘What is the meaning of unsung, sir?’ Partho, the most notorious boy in class nine who was always on the lookout for any opportunity to embarrass teachers, asked. Manik babu took his time. ‘Unrecognised’, he said. The bell rang. He departed. The class erupted in laughter. It got a nickname for its new English teacher. ‘Unsung’. ‘Unsung’. Everyone uttered and giggled.
From next day, Manik babu faced difficult times to control the class. Whatever word he pronounced triggered a fountain of wild laughter. Manik babu lost his cool. He beat up all the laughing boys. From the open window, neighbouring class ten had seen it all. They now joined the laughing brigade of class nine. Manik babu was all at bay. He gave a sermon on good conduct. To no effect. The whole school mimicked and teased Manik babu with ‘Unsung’.
Manik babu answered the hostile school with a calm and incisive teaching. Every line of English text became alive with his probing reading between the lines. The short statured dhoti-clad man with a humble smile made himself synonymous with “A Daily Drama”and “Daffodils”. Daffodil flowers swayed in silent wonder as Manik babu described them with a sensitivity that touched the heart of those who just the other day made fun of him.
One day Manik babu found his entire salary went missing with the trademark faded bag itself he always carried from the Co-operative bank just after he put the entire amount in the bag. He looked around, found nothing suspicious. He came to school without wasting any more time with futile search. His classes could not suffer for the theft of salary. He took to funny Uncle Podger and his funnier ways of catching train to the workplace the way he did in other days. None in the school knew what happened to the man until Manik babu revealed it at the end of the day. ‘Didn’t you go to police station and lodge a diary?’ Durgashib babu asked bemused. Manik babu shook his head. ‘The man should be in dire straits and urgently needs money. Otherwise why should he steal?’ Manik babu counter-asked with his disarming smile.
‘Do you know Manik babu has committed suicide?’ Ratul da asked me as I was about to sip tea from a road-side tea stall last week. My hand jerked and the steaming tea spilled out. ‘Just now I’ve got the news on Facebook’, Ratul da said, glued to mobile screen.
‘The smiling man takes out his own life.’ I murmured.
‘What?’ Ratul da asked.
‘An unsung assassin’, I said.
Ratul da blew out a coil of smoke from Filter Wills. The smoke kept suspended in the air on a winter evening for some time before emerging mist devoured it for good.