“Why did you go to meet him?” Pronab demanded of her when they were preparing to go to bed.

“Whom?”

“Mukundo Thakur!” Don’t take his name, she wanted to cry. But she swallowed her bitterness.

“How could I come here and not meet him?” she said plainly.

“His character is well-known to everyone. Don’t forget that you are a married woman now.”

“He has always been my friend and guardian…” she retorted despite herself and was greeted with a slap. Back in Haldia, she wouldn’t have been surprised. Even if she managed to not provoke him the entire day, he got a kick out of slapping her in bed. But she hadn’t thought that he would do it here too! She was stunned into silence. He dragged her and pushed her on the bed. She bit her lips and tried to keep it noiseless. The servant quarter had a single bedroom and her mother and brother were sleeping in the hall right outside. What if they heard!

—

Her letter had come by post. It didn’t carry her name anywhere. His neither, except on the envelop with the address. “For my sake, if nobody else’s, please don’t drown yourself in alcohol. Please take care of your business and don’t let the artist in you die.” That was all it said.

After she had left the room with her brother, he had noticed the diary. It wasn’t where he had left it. When he picked it up, and flipped through it, it opened naturally to certain pages. The pages that had recently been read and where pages were pressed. And then on one page, he had noticed the stain. Of teardrops! That explained her changed behavior. She had read it all. She knew! And when that letter came, he had to pull himself together. She shouldn’t feel guilty for him. He hoped that Promila or Piyali’s mother or Priyendra, somebody will convey to her that his drinking was back to normal. And that she would be able to infer that he was attending to his business again. In fact, he was getting more involved than earlier. Because do what he may, inspiration for a painting would not come. What could he do with the time in hand, except attend to business? In few months time, it became known to the servants and the neighbors that he was going to office. They wondered and gossiped about what could have happened? Was he going to get married? To whom? They hoped it was not to one of those bad women he visited, and not to one of those strange ones he used to bring home.

—

Mukundo brought his car to a screeching halt at the bus stop. She recognized it and started walking away before he could pull the tinted windows down. Surprised and worried, he got out, without caring that he had left the car standing where a bus normally would.

“Piyali!” he shouted after her.

She had no option now. She stopped and turned to him. “Mukundo Babu!” she feigned a surprise. But she acted badly. He was sure she was trying to avoid him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

She fell silent.

“Are you with someone?” he asked next.

She shook her head.

“Get in the car,” he said.

She silently followed him. That was no place to avoid or explain.

Mukundo started driving towards home.

“Don’t drive to home, Mukundo Babu,” she requested.

“Where to, then?”

“Take a left at the next circle. I will tell you the way.”

It was then that he noticed. All the changes introduced in her by her marriage had reverted. She wore a salwaar-kameez, had her hair in a pony tail like earlier and there was no sign of sindoor. It was all so mysterious. But he decided to wait with his questions, until they had reached someplace they could talk. It had been nine months since her visit home. What was she doing in Kolkata alone? And why would she not go home?

The car had to be left at the main road. The streets of the slum area were not wide enough for it. Mukundo’s heart sank as she led him through those stinky, narrow streets to a three-storied, dilapidated building. They climbed up the stairs and finally entered a house on the second floor. It was just a small room, that served as the bedroom, kitchen, dining as well as the living area. The painting he had given to her stood out as the only adornment the walls had. There was no furniture in the room, only a thin mattress covered with a clean, but old bedsheet. He could not see any bathroom. Everyone in that building, or at least that floor, must be sharing one. Even in his servant quarters, Piyali was used to much more comfortable living. And after marriage, it must have been better. What was going on here? Something drastic for sure. And she hadn’t told him! Hurt and anger surged through him at the same time. But he kept his outward reaction in control. Don’t let the monster rise in you, he told himself, not now, not before her!

“I will make some tea,” she said wanting to avoid discussion for as long as possible.

“We can get tea outside, if you need it. Sit down, Piyali. And tell me what is going on,” he seated himself on the mattress hoping that if he acted relaxed, she would relax too.

“I have left his house.”

“Your choice?”

She shook her head.

“How long has it been?”

“Little over a month.”

“Why didn’t you come home?”

She stood silent.

“Does Mashi know?”

She nodded.

“She asked you to keep away?”

She answered with a nod again.

“What the hell, Piyali,” he got up from the mattress and came near her, “Why did I not know? I may never have said it in so many words. But was it not understood that you could always come to me? In fact, you should have,” he emphasized ‘should’. “You owed that much to me,” he finally added. She knew all about him. She had read his diary. She had sent him the note asking him to pull himself together, showing that she cared and she was not disgusted.

“If I came to you,” she said in a quivering voice, “It would only have given credit to their accusation.”

“What accusation? What has happened?”

She shook her head, not wanting to talk.

“That won’t do. That won’t do at all. You have to talk to me.”

“Why did you come after me?” she started crying, “You shouldn’t have.”

“Why did I come after you?” he was offended, “You know very well why I did. And I didn’t come after you until I thought that you were settled in your own life, did I? Even though I had my doubts. But now? With this?” He pointed at the room with a sweep of his hands. “You are asking why I came after you? What would you do in my place? Don’t do this to me, Piyali. For God’s sake. Talk. Tell me what has happened. What accusation were you talking about? Did it have to do something with me?”

Her shoulders stooped. She was giving in to his insistence, even as she continued to cry. He held her and led her to the mattress. He made her sit on it and held her hands. “No matter what happens, till I am alive, you are not alone. I am sorry that I left you to your own devices all these months. I thought it was for your welfare. I was wrong. But don’t punish me for it, please. Talk to me.”

A blood donation camp was organized in the town. Piyali had wanted to donate and thankfully Pronab did not stop her. He went with her. The blood was to go in the blood bank only after testing it. There was an option for donors to receive the blood reports for free. Piyali had opted for it. When the report came, her life fell apart. She was HIV positive.

—

To be continued