Almost four years have passed since the incident took place. Sometimes I feel it was a dream. But then I realise I did experience it and it would be wrong for me to dismiss it as an illusion.

Let me assure you first that during the past ten years, I have been perfectly sound of body and mind. And I have led a most ordinary life — the monotonous routine existence of a schoolteacher.

That day, while I was teaching class four, I noticed Kamakhya struggling to snatch something from Sudhir’s hand. When I scolded him, Kamakhya said that he merely wanted to look at the medal which Sudhir had won in a badminton or swimming competition in his locality. I gave the boys a long lecture on friendship and brotherly feelings. And then I asked Sudhir to bring the medal to me. I took a casual look at it and immediately sat up straight!

This was no ordinary medal. It was a big, old, intricately engraved one. On one side there was an imprint of Queen Victoria in her youth and an inscription. The room was dimly lit and I had left my spectacles in the staff room, so I asked one of the students to read it out for me. He read it very slowly and with great effort — Crimea, Sevastopol, Victoria Regina. On the other side was inscribed — Sergeant SB Parkins, Sixth Dragon Guards, 1854.

How had Sudhir Saha of Nilmoni Das Lane in Calcutta got this medal? I asked him and he explained that it belonged to his grandfather. An Englishman had given it to him. Sergeant Parkins, whoever he was, must have got this medal almost eighty years ago. If he were alive today, he would be at least a hundred and six!

It was a Saturday and I had decided to go to my village for the weekend. I thought I would take the medal along and show it to Jethamoshai, one of the village elders. Jethamoshai was fascinated by history and would be happy to see it. I told Sudhir I would return the medal on Monday.

After school, I collected my bag and caught the 2.30 train from Sealdah railway station. When the train reached my village, it was 5.30 and by the time I walked the two miles home it was dark. No one lived in my village home. An old woman from the neighbourhood came in and cooked for me whenever I went there. She told me that Vrindavan, my childhood friend, had also come to spend a fortnight there. I was very pleased to hear this and I decided to visit him immediately. I thought I would show him the medal too.

Vrindavan’s house was across the river. As I walked along the bridge, I noticed that the river was in flood. The water had overflowed the banks and had entered the fields on either side. I stood there, watching the river for a long time. It was growing dark. The bats were flapping around. Not a soul was in sight.

To be continued

Excerpted from Lukose’s Church & Other Stories
Publisher: Katha

Illustrations: Suman Choudhury