Where to begin this story I don't know.In one's life,when actually a  story starts and ends,it is difficult to say.Let us begin on a winter evening,when hour of dusk painted  the sky pink at the horizon.We were walking side by side along the Tram line.

He,a young boy with unkempt hair,a soft beard covering his chin and dreamy eyes.with a kurta and jeans,a Shantiniketani bag on his shoulder.In our college lingo,we used to call this type as aantel,[a short form for french pronounciation of intelectual] denoting a pseudo intelectual .

I was a contrast to him.With my hereditory heavy and tall  body,I was somewhat odd amongst my student friends.Very unlike general Bong students.Temperamentally also we were completely different.He true to his aantlami[use of intelectuality],was a widely read man,high thinking,and I more of an ignorant type.Yet the friendship flourished.One reason may be that we used to stay nearby and loved books.

That eve of winter evening,weather was very pleasant and we were walking towards the Calcutta Book Fair in Maidaan.Neel was a great book lover,as I have said already.He was also a great book thief,may be one of the best that Bengal ever produced.There was no big book shop or foreign libraries in calcutta,which  had not suffered from Neel.Offcourse he had a principle--he never stole from Public ,Government,College and National libraries,because he felt that in these places, books will not be replaced easily,so common readers will suffer.He also never stole books from anybody's house.

I onced asked him-Why do you steal books?Don't you feel it's wrong? He replied-The God has always  forgiven those,who steal Books,Flowers and Heart.There is no sin in these stealing.

In his house,his room was full of books, scattered all over.Every inch of it almost.I had asked him once--Why can't you keep it properly in a book shelf. He had grinned sheepishly and said--The way these books came to me ,book shelf can not come that way.

While walking together with him inside the bookfair,I was quite apprehensive of the situation.I never wanted to come with him.Neel's collections from earlier year's BookFair was not small.He ,once showed a few volumes of Britanica Encyclopedia to me as his achievement.He almost dragged me here.

He suddenly said--Sidd, let us enter Rupa's stall, first . The Rupa is a welknown publisher in Calcutta.I said-- Neel,I am definitely not with you.He smiled like a hero and said -You coward!You have to do nothing but to give me cover, when I will pick up a book.

He almost pushed me inside.My heart was pounding heavily.I could imagine that we were caught and being handed over to the police.I could also see that my Daddy,with a grim face came to bail me out and I was  searching a fissure in the floor where I can hide myself.

The crowd was too much.I was not able to see the books properly.'Where is Neel ? ''I do not know and I  do not want to know'.Suddenly ,a few people started shouting-thief,thief.there was a great commotion,inside the stall.I paled.I was feeling weak at my knees and my mouth went dry.I was having a cold sweat.I literally struggled and came out of that stall,out  in the open air, without looking at anybody.I never wanted to recognise Neel,at that point of time,nor I wanted to give him that chance of calling me,when he is in trouble.

I was almost running out  to get out of the Fair.Suddenly,I saw.............before an ice cream stall......Neel,with   his now heavy bag on his shoulder, was having an ice cream with a girl in pink sareee.

The mikes of the fair was singing-'Chukar mere  manko....kiya tune kiya ishara...'. In the receeding light of the day,with a sea of crowd around me.....I saw the  book thief...... Neel, stealing a heart from someone.