“Mukundo Babu asked you to perform with him? On the stage?” It had been six months since she had started learning from him.

Piyali nodded looking somber.

“Shouldn’t you be like jumping in and out right now? Isn’t it like a dream come true?”

“He is angry, Sonali. Very angry.”

“What?”

“When I told him I can’t perform, he got very angry.”

“Wha… Wait… You refused?”

“Of course. I did. You know very well I can’t perform.”

“Why not?”

“Ma doesn’t like it, Sonali. That’s the understanding. I won’t leave music. But it will never be my profession.”

“Arr… Then don’t make it your profession. One performance can’t hurt…”

“It will hurt her. She would think I am changing my mind. And who knows… I might just get lured into it…”

“And now Mukundo Babu is angry. What did you tell him? Why can’t you perform?”

“I told him whatever came to my mind then. That I have a stage-fright. And that I need to study for exams…”

“But not the truth?”

“He isn’t expected to understand her, Sonali. I am not going to badmouth my mother before him.”

“What now?”

“He hasn’t disowned me or anything,” Piyali smiled sadly, “Hopefully he will be able to forgive me.”

—

“I know that you are lying to me. And I am very disappointed about it,” he told her the next day, “But…” He let out a sigh before continuing, “I don’t know what it is. There is something special about you. I can’t turn you away. May your devotion to music never falter!”

She listened with a bowed head. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She did not wipe them. He did not ask her to. They sat there and no practice happened until others came in at six.

He didn’t mention it after that. Their conversations got back to normal slowly. He even gave her a pass to the concert without showing any signs of resentment.

—

During the concert, two faces stood out for him as he sang on the stage. One was Aporna sitting in the first row, extremely careful about her new Jamdani saree. Second was Piyali sitting in the third row, her eyes closed, tears flowing down as she listened to him perform. She was wearing her red and black birthday dress. The best she had?

“Why were you crying in the concert yesterday?” he asked her the next morning. The concert running till late night had not affected their morning routine.

“You… You noticed?” she was caught off-guard.

“Umhmm… More tears than the heroines of the soaps Aporna watches. Had to notice.”

She gave a small smile, “What can I say… It was your performance… I was overwhelmed.”

“Why didn’t you agree to perform with me?” he suddenly sprang the question at her. He had decided earlier that he wouldn’t. But the question had again started gnawing at him since last night.

She looked up startled; then averted her eyes.

“I am not angry at you, Piyali. I tried, but I couldn’t remain angry at you. But I need to know. Why?”

“I won’t think of disrespecting you even in my worst nightmares, Mukundo Babu. But must you make it so difficult for me? I am a nobody. Too small for you to bother about.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Don’t ask me questions, Mukundo Babu,” perplexed, she rubbed her temples, “It looks like everything I say to you turns out to be wrong. I don’t know what to say any longer.”

“Fine!” he sighed and resolved to not bother her. He would behave normally. He would will himself to behave normally. “But here is something you must know. If by any chance, lack of confidence is the reason, then let me tell you that you are not a nobody, not ordinary. You are very special, Piyali. Very special.”

She felt a chill run down her spine and couldn’t meet his eyes.

He cleared his throat and said, “Let’s start. Maru Bihag.”

—

“So, Mukundo. Sumi tells me that you have a hard-working student to your liking now,” Mohima teased her son good-humouredly. They were having lunch. Sumedha was in school.

“Huh?”

“Piyali. Gayatri Devi’s student. I heard she comes for your 5 ‘o clock practice.”

“Yes. She does. And she is good. It’s a pity that she never got to learn from Pandit ji.”

“Baba wouldn’t teach anyone without money,” Aporna said flippantly.

“What is your problem, Aporna?” Mukundo couldn’t stand Aporna, or anyone, being disrespectful towards his Guru.

“I am just telling the truth. I knew him very well. He was my father, after all.”

“And if he did earn money, it was for your sake only.”

“When am I denying that? He was more practical than you would ever be.”

“Okay. Stop fighting you two,” Mohima intervened, “You fight worse than kids. I am sure both of you respect Pandit ji. We all do. There is no need to quibble over it.”

—

Mukundo had long grown indifferent towards Aporna. But these days he almost hated her. She was such a contrast to Piyali. Or Piyali was such a contrast to her. Whichever way, it was wreaking havoc on him and his emotions. Every time Aporna said or did something that he detested, he felt more and more pathologically attracted towards Piyali.

—

“It was raining yesterday when you left,” Mukundo erupted as she walked in.

“So?” she was baffled. Why was he angry?

“You could have fallen ill. It… It can’t do any good to you voice,” he added the second sentence as an afterthought, to give legitimacy to his fury.

“I had an umbrella, Mukundo Babu. I am careful. It is the season. It rains all the time.”

“I was asking you to wait. I would have dropped you..”

“You were asking me?” she frowned. When was he asking her… Not with words obviously. She remembered that he had motioned her with his hands. Must be asking her to wait. She hadn’t understood. “I… I am sorry. I didn’t realize. But Mukundo Babu, I couldn’t have waited. I had to be there by 8.30.”

“Where?”

“At my student’s home,” she said and seeing him raise his eyebrows, clarified, “I give tuitions.” She wasn’t running her own music classes already.

Mukundo looked less furious, but was still annoyed. She had been confused initially, but when she realized what had happened, Piyali felt overwhelmed. Her father had given her the love for music, but as a provider and a protector, he was inadequate. Even when he was alive, he was never a strong support to her or the rest of the family. Her mother barely managed to keep things together, struggling with all the responsibilities alone. Her brother was younger to her. Her neighbours were kind, but never had she had someone care for her like this, someone trying to protect her, make things easy for her. She would have liked to say something to him, but words refused to come out.

“Shall I get the Tanpura?” she asked meekly.

He nodded.

—

It was raining again, when she had left. But she had discreetly shown him her umbrella – a silent promise that she was taking care of herself. But Mukundo was annoyed with himself. He was letting on more than he should; more than she cared for.

“Baba,” Sumedha’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, “You had left your phone in the practice room. It isn’t even switched on yet.”

“Oh! Thank you, Shona. Come here,” he said wanting to forget all other inadequacies and complications of life in his daughter’s company.

“I am getting late for school, Baba. Thakuma is waiting for me with breakfast.”

“Hmm… Okay. Run along, then. You must not get late.”

“Bye Baba.”

“Bye.”

—

To be continued