“Doctor Uncle, you tell us. What should we call her? Didi or Auntie?” two kids came to Paritosh and Rupali when they went to the orphanage for the weekly checkup and asked Paritosh to resolved their dispute about Rupali.

“What?”

“Mihir says we should call her Auntie, I think we should call her Didi.”

Paritosh laughed out loud, while Rupali blushed, “I think you might have taken the more advantageous position in betting on Didi, but why don’t you ask her what she would like to be called.”

“How about you just call me by my name? Rupali? It is a nice enough name, don’t you think so?” Rupali intervened.

“But elders are not supposed to be called by their name,” the kids were not satisfied.

“Hmm…” Rupali became thoughtful, while Paritosh laughed again. “They are not going to let you off the hook so easily, Dr. Banerjee.”

Her eyes shone on hearing him, “How about you call me Dr. Rupali? That is respectful enough.”

“Will Suma Auntie agree?” the kids consulted amongst themselves talking about their caretaker.

“She will. Don’t worry.”

“Okay then. Dr. Rupali. We will call you that only.”

“Good,” Rupali smiled and patted their heads.

“Well… Didi wouldn’t have been too bad,” Paritosh was still amused, “Auntie would be totally out-of-place, of course.”

“I don’t care how old I am perceived to be,” Rupali smiled, “But I… Just don’t feel comfortable with relations… It is better to keep it impersonal.”

“Why do you come here, then? This can not be impersonal?” he asked suddenly.

“Why do you come here?” she asked in return.

“That’s not fair. Turning the question on me like that.”

“No. No. I didn’t intend to do that. I am sorry,” Rupali was flustered.

“It’s okay. No need to get worked up. But yes – coming here is extremely personal for me. My first memories of life are of this place. I was here.”

Rupali looked surprised, “You are an orphan?”

“Daar ji had adopted me, when I was twelve. But before that…”

“Oh!”

“What?”

“I come here, because I could have been here,” she said slowly.

“How come?”

“My parents died when I was eleven. In an accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Insurance payout never came. They declared that it was a suicide. There was nobody to argue or fight with them on my behalf. Without the insurance money, no relative was willing to take on the responsibility of a young child, especially a girl. They had almost packed me to this place, when my father’s employers stepped in and took me in.”

“That was great. You were lucky. They obviously brought you up well.”

“Yes. I guess.”

“You don’t agree?”

“I don’t disagree… But sometimes I do wonder… If deprivation is better while growing up or a burden of favor? Did you never feel that conflict?”

Paritosh smiled in understanding. “Not exactly that. But yeah – I understand. We all have our shares of conflicts in that situation.”

“What was your conflict?”

“Luckily for me, I didn’t grow up with that feeling. It was only during Daar ji’s last days that I realized that I was a substitute for someone.”

“Substitute?”

“His daughter… Whom apparently he had lost due to his own fault…”

“Hmm…”

“What did your father do, by the way?” Paritosh asked shifting the focus away from his story.

“He was the principle at one of Nihar Education Trust’s schools.”

“You were adopted by Dr. Moitra’s parents?” Paritosh asked immediately surprising Rupali.

“How do you know?”

“Well… his father is a member in the hospital’s board. I have known him for last four years As head of the department, I have to work closely with the board. NET belongs to them…”

“Oh! I should have known…” Rupali mumbled.

“I… I am sorry if it became awkward for you. I am not going to talk about any of this to them, of course,” Paritosh assured her, “We don’t meet much socially, anyway.”

“Of course. I trust you. I have to. For some reason you have been a witness to my awkwardness a bit too often,” Rupali tried to laugh it off.

—

To be continued