Behind the Familiar Wings

🖊️Roopsa Ganguly

When the zipper is pulled up, the world does not disappear instantly; it fades slowly, piece by piece. The sounds of the fair turn distant and uneven, air grows warmer with every passing minute, and breathing begins to demand attention. Inside the costume, there is no sense of time, only the awareness of one’s own body—sweat collecting, muscles tightening, and the quiet resolve to keep going.

Outside, the 49th International Kolkata Book Fair 2026 unfolds in its full splendour. Children run freely between stalls, parents pause to capture memories, and two cheerful ducks—Haso and Hasi—move gently through the crowd, waving and posing as if joy were second nature to them. To the visitors, they are comforting, playful, endlessly kind.

 

Inside those costumes are two men from Naihati: Pradip Halder, who becomes Haso, and Sukhendu Halder, who becomes Hasi. Once dressed, their identities dissolve. Their faces are unseen, their names unheard, yet their presence is felt everywhere.

The hours are long and unforgiving. Water is limited, rest is rare, and sitting down is often impossible. Vision blurs through layers of mesh, legs ache from constant bending, and every movement requires calculation. Still, when a hesitant child approaches, they lower themselves gently. When a toddler cries, they kneel despite the strain. When small hands cling to their wings, they remain steady and warm.

No one notices the discomfort. What they notice instead is reassurance—the sense of safety, the laughter, the sudden smile on a tired parent’s face. These moments sustain them more than anything else.

When the lights go out, Haso and Hasi quietly retreat. The costumes come off, leaving behind exhaustion and silence. Later, on a train back to Naihati, Pradip and Sukhendu sit among strangers, unnoticed, carrying with them the knowledge that for one day, they became joy for people who will never know their names.