5 years later.

Piyali was surprised to hear her sing. That was Mukundo’s favourite way to use vivadi swar in his compositions. The school was organizing a charity show. Their music teacher had left before the term started and so for the time being she was filling up for her and auditioning students.

“What’s your name?” she asked after the girl finished performing.

“Sumedha Thakur.”

Piyali forgot to breathe for a moment.What was she doing here? Why would Mukundo Babu send his daughter to a hostel and not train her with him?

“You are well-trained in classical music,” she said hoping that she sounded casual.

“Thank you, Miss,” she replied. From their practice sessions, which she sometimes joined, Piyali remembered her as a vivacious child. Why was she looking so sad and sombre? Growing up? Homesickness?

“You have joined in this term?”

“Yes Miss.”

“Which class?”

“Standard eleventh.”

“That’s a tough one. So much to study. But I would really like you to perform a solo classical piece. You will need to practice a lot…”

“That won’t be a problem, Miss.”

Piyali smiled. Her father’s daughter! But what on earth was she doing here?

—

“Music doesn’t leave you, does it?” Debangi complained when Piyali returned to her house in teachers’ quarters. The house was a perk that came with the job. Debangi’s complain wasn’t like earlier. Now that Piyali had a stable job, which supported them fairly well, she wasn’t as insecure about music ruining their lives as she used to be. Piyali doubling up as the music teacher had made her days hectic; that was the only reason she worried about her.

Piyali smiled at her, “It is a Godsend, Ma. With the extra money, I can buy Priyendra’s laptop without digging into savings. Let’s pray that they don’t find a music teacher for the entire term.” Priyendra was now staying in Pune, pursuing his engineering degree.

“Hmm… And what about you? Do you plan to spend your entire life slaving for us?”

“What are you talking about? Who will I work for, if not you?”

“For yourself. Your own family.”

“Do I have a secret ‘own’ family tucked away somewhere?”

“You know what I mean. If your Baba had not left me so helpless and destitute, you would have been married long back, and I would be playing with a grandchild or two by now.”

“Ma. You can never stop worrying, can you? Until I had this job, you were worried about money. Until Priyendra had gotten admission, you were worried about his future. And now, grand children? Can’t we just be happy for a while? Life is good, isn’t it?”

“And we need to ensure that it remains good. You would need a partner, a support, family…”

“We will see when I feel the need for one.”

“It might be too late…”

“Then I would have learned to live on my own. Ma. Let this be final. I am not planning to get married. So you can cut short on your phone calls. I know what all of those have been for. But please. No. And even if you feel it is your responsibility to pester me, do not do it until Priyendra has finished his studies and gotten a job. I am not leaving you to your sewing and mending again.”

—

Piyali saw her sitting on the stairs in a less used part of the school building.

“Hello!”

She was startled and stood up abruptly. “Miss! Good morning, Miss.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I.. I was just going to the class.”

“Fourth period has started. Almost half-way through now. You have already bunked a class.”

She gulped. “I… I am sorry, Miss. I just didn’t…”

“Relax. Let’s sit down.”

She looked at Piyali incredulously.

“I am not encouraging you to bunk classes,” Piyali clarified. Damn the duties of a teacher! “But you have already bunked one. So, let’s sit down. I wanted to talk to you.”

Piyali sat down and Sumedha followed her gingerly.

“How is Mukundo Babu doing?” Piyali had checked her records and was now completely sure about who she was.

Sumedha was startled. “You know Baba?”

“I had known him. Some years ago. How is he?”

“He is… okay.”

“Did he come to drop you here?”

She shook her head, “Thakuma did.”

“And your Ma?”

Sumedha looked miserable at the question. Then she said slowly, “No. She didn’t come.”

“You miss home, don’t you?”

She nodded and grew emotional.

“Sumedha. What is it?”

She stayed silent.

“Tell me, darling. It’s all right,” five years of teaching and dealing with young students had given Piyali mature, motherly manners. Mukundo would have been surprised to see her like this.

“Nothing.”

“You would have been assigned a counsellor, right?” The school did that for all students.

“Yes.”

“Think of me as one too. Anything you tell me is strictly confidential.”

“How do you know Baba? Does he know you?”

Piyali smiled, “You know me too. You probably don’t remember. You were young. Your Baba and I used to practice. Early in the morning. At five. You were also there very often.”

Sumedha looked at her intently. “I remember… vaguely. Baba used to say you were very hard-working.”

“Like you. And I’m sure your Baba won’t mind if you shared your problems with me.”

She nodded. But before she could say anything, the bell rang.

“Next period. Don’t bunk this one. But will you meet me here, when the classes are over?”

“Yes Miss.”

“Good then. See you. Take care.”

—

Piyali comforted the sobbing girl and walked her to her hostel. She would need some time to come to terms with things herself. She stepped out of the campus. A mud path on the western side of campus led to a spinney. It was a secluded place and Piyali’s favourite spot to spend some quite, contemplative time. After seeing Sumedha off, she needed this time. Things had turned upside down in Mukundo’s life. He had stopped performing. His wife had left them. He still had students, but except for the practice time with them, he kept to himself, drinking and listening to records. The gloominess at the home had gotten to Sumedha, who had slipped into depression. She didn’t do well in her board exams. After that her grandmother had decided that hostel would be better than such home. “At least she would have some cheerful company of her friends,” she had said. Mukundo had been devastated, but he hadn’t objected. “I’m sorry. But your Thakuma is right. Study well,” he had told her when she was leaving for the hostel.

“Why?” Piyali had exclaimed more than questioned.

“I don’t know,” Sumedha had replied.

But Piyali knew – she thought so. How could you be so self-destructive, Mukundo Babu? She cried out loud when she was in her safe, secluded abode.

—

“Ask him to come here, Sumedha. Even if he doesn’t agree to perform, tell him to come and watch you perform.”

“He hadn’t agreed to come to drop me. He said he won’t be able to leave me behind.”

“He will come for the performance. Try it. Seeing him would make you happy, won’t it?”

“Shall I tell him about you?”

“No. Let that be a surprise.” Piyali was afraid that if Sumedha mentioned who her music teacher was, who wanted him to perform for charity, it would only deter him from coming.

“Miss,” Sumedha came back excitedly after making the call, “He is coming!”

Piyali hoped that she didn’t give away too much of her own emotions.

—

To be continued