It really does not matter when Kushan sings for the first time, but his voice reflected the mountains and reached the last drops of water in the river, making his sense awaken so that he could sing more. But no one in his village would feel any difference in his singing ability, and he would rather dream of feeling he could make a difference. So he waited for the rainy season when the sound of the drops of rain might move his voice to a new level, which he always aspired to achieve. He never thought to be a singer, but his voice caught the minds of the villagers where he is now. He often came beside the bank of the river, sat on the biggest rock, and tried to sing his heart out where his voice would reflect the mind of his own, or rather, he could hear his own singing.


At one point in time, the villagers wondered why Kushan sang the song when he did not aspire to go for the populace, which could be achieved once he reached Gangtok. But Kushan did not care about that because he would have liked to sing in the middle of the surroundings, where his voice could have been reflected.

Life in the village of Sikkim has always been slow to pass by, but the people would make hard work for their livelihood. The village is adjacent to the road that connects Gangtok to Siliguri. Kushan’s father has a small tea shop that is often filled with a few tourists. One day he was sitting just beside his father’s tea shop and watching the people come and go after passing by a few times for refreshment. They often took pictures on the road, and a few made the move to go down a small route to the river at the last end of the long slop. Where the first slop was started, Kushan often engaged himself in farming. He is not interested in selling the tea or talking with the unknown tourists. His father asked several times to help him, but every time he refused, specifying his engagement in farming.

It was the day of drizzle when the tourists turned almost none, and his father waited from the morning to greet a few, but no way till the afternoon, no vehicle stopped there. They might be busy reaching Gangtok too early, avoiding road problems due to rain. It was almost late afternoon when a vehicle stopped there, and Kushan’s father came out of his little shop to greet them. Four tourists were there who asked for tea. It was the middle of September, so late afternoon also brought the cooling environment back, which drew the sale of tea. For asking for tea, a lady was there who would like to see the adjacent places stared at the river, which was far downward. She put her first leg towards the slop for a downward journey when she heard a soothing sound coming out from the nearest. It was the song; though she did not recognize the language, it was soothing to her ears. She was searching for the voice when she found someone working on the farm land doing his own job while singing. The last essence of sunset captivated the lady’s mind too much.

–        Who are are?

Kushan stared at her without moving his lips. He was not surprised. Suddenly they heard the barking of his dog, Nilko, who ran towards Kushan but the lady felt the fear. But, when the dog moved towards Kushan, the lady felt relieved.

–        Who are you?

Kushan did not respond, but he played with the dog, starting with another soothing song. The lady stopped there when the song was the stimulus for setting the sun. She felt the song must have been about the setting sun. She could not recognise the language. In the meantime, other tourists came to join her, but Kushan hardly cared about them.– Beautiful, really beautiful.

–        My son sir.

When the lady and others agreed with the beauty, Kushan’s father took the pride of his son while standing beside them.

–        What he sings?

–        He sings about a man who lost his companion during the sunset, and tries to tell God why He takes his life when the darkness will wipe out after sometime, but her life never be revived.

–        He sings very well. Why don’t you put him on TV channel?

–        Where could we find that? Who could help us as we are living in a small village, far away from Gangtok?

–        Ok, we can do.

Kushan’s father looked at them with hope. In the meantime, Kushan was pampering the dog, and it looked appeased by it.

–        Kushan, could you hear, what they can tell?

Kushan did not look at them, he was finishing his farming work. He was still singing the song in a whisper.

–        Cannot hear your voice.

Kushan’s father looked at him, but Kushan could not change his voice. He was preparing to go downstairs towards the river crossing the greenish slops that came in his road. The lady and her team also followed him, along with Kushan’s father.

–        We can take him to Kolkata, he can be made a star with his voice.

Kushan could not stare at them, and he never asked them anything. He stood beside the river. His dog was still walking beside him. The last light of the setting sun dropped instantly, but his voice could mingle with the sound of the river. The lady and his other companions were sitting on a big rock a few yards away from Kushan, and now they could hear the song very well. The sound of the river seemed to be the background music of his song. One of the companions unlocked the mobile to take the voice for recording, but the lady put her hand on him, signing him not to take it. Kushan had not paid any attention to anything about them.

His dog was still waging its tail as it enjoyed the music.

Time passed, and the companions were getting impatient with someone for being ignorant.

–        Could we move now?

One of them asked the lady. The lady agreed with this point and stood to way back to the tea stall, but Kushan’s father became impatient as his son still did not look at them.

–        Kushan, what happened to you?

Kushan had not paid any attention, instead of that, he put his legs under the water of the river. He put his hands in the water and tried to sing as soothing as the flow of the river. It seemed that he tried to sing on the ears of the river. The dog was also following him to the river. 

–        Yes, we could move.

The lady, with much satisfaction on her face, finally left the place. Kushan’s father felt dissatisfied over the act of his son, but the lady consoled him by telling him, “Let him sing with his friend. We are blessed to see the movement and enjoy it. Let him sing with his friends


When they left, the dark light prevailed over them, but the song of Kushsan mixed with the sound of the flowing river made it possible to remember the song forever. The dog barked, perhaps in joy, to add the music to it.


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West Bengal