নিজস্ব প্রতিবেদক 
A Philosophical Novel by Bimal Sarkar
(From the “Kaler Chithi” Series)
Chapter 1: Time and Life
The morning light has softened over the sky of Cedar Park. A gentle mist crowns the hills, and far away, a line of crimson sun slowly rises.
Nabarupa stands on the balcony, holding a cup of black tea.
Her eyes carry fatigue, yet her face glows with serene affection.
The morning begins as always—
Anya, her eldest daughter, packs her school bag;
Arpita looks for her calculator;
and little Aditi, still half-asleep, clings to her mother’s neck.
Nabarupa runs her fingers through their hair—
as if every touch is a silent prayer:
“May light remain in your life, no matter how deep the darkness falls.”
Outside, the streets fill with the hum of engines—
some heading to H-E-B, some to Walmart,
others to their daily work.
The life of Austin flows like a rhythm where time never stops,
yet people often pause within themselves.
Arjun Sarkar, Nabarupa’s husband, is still asleep.
The scar on his chest has faded but not disappeared—
a mark left by a bullet he took while saving a stranger.
That single moment changed the script of his life forever.
For Nabarupa, that wound still burns softly in her heart,
but from that pain was born a strange light.
Arjun, nearly blind in one eye now,
often gazes silently out the window,
and Nabarupa thinks—
“God never blinds a man with one eye;
He only teaches him to see the world anew with the other.”
At ten in the morning, Nabarupa leaves in her car—
dropping the children at school before heading to the Global Village store.
Behind Mopac Highway stands the Manob Debalay Ashram,
and across from it, Subimal Chakraborty’s Speedy Stop Station.
That station feels less like a business
and more like a cultural heartbeat of Austin.
From afar, rows of bottled water gleam under the light.
A banner flutters—
“Serving Humanity is Our Business.”
Inside, Subimal-da is busy as always,
yet his face carries a simple, luminous smile—
a smile that seems to hold a fragment of humanity’s purest light.
Seeing Nabarupa, he says,
“Ah, Nabarupa! How’s the morning treating you?”
She smiles softly,
“I’m fine, Subimal-da. Only… time feels a little tired today.”
He laughs gently and replies,
“Time never gets tired, only people do.
Walk with time, and it will find your path for you.”
They step outside together.
Rupa Chakraborty is arranging winter clothes for the homeless,
while a young Mexican student loads water bottles onto a truck.
Nabarupa joins in, her hands holding blankets, her eyes filled with tenderness—
as if she knows that the answer to every pain in this world
lies quietly inside an act of giving.
By the time she returns home in the evening,
the sky is painted in gold.
Arjun sits by the window, gazing outside in silence.
Nabarupa sits beside him and places her hand on his shoulder.
Arjun murmurs,
“You know, I can still remember his face.”
In a calm voice, Nabarupa replies,
“The man whose life you saved—
not keeping in touch may not be his sin,
perhaps only his helplessness.”
Arjun remains silent, head bowed.
And Nabarupa thinks to herself—
“To love someone is not to fix them;
it is to try to understand their pain.”
Night descends.
A lamp flickers in her mother-in-law’s room;
the fragrance of prayer drifts from the shrine.
On the table lies an open book by Bimal Sarkar—
on page seventeen, these lines are underlined:
“Life is a contract with Time—
the quieter you become,
the more Time will listen to you.”
Nabarupa rests her hand on the page.
She feels, somewhere in this weary world,
a distant voice is whispering—
“Awaken the charioteer within you.”
(To be continued…)
