He released her slowly, despite having wanted to do it immediately. If he reacted that way she might grow conscious and be hurt. What should he do? How should he take the inevitable awkwardness away? Yes! He would pretend that nothing unusual happened. They wouldn’t talk about it and it will go away, won’t it? Anyway, he was going to be away for several months.

But how should he continue the conversation to make it sound normal? He wanted to ask if she was okay. But asking that might have meant acknowledging this… Ugh… What should he do?

“Dinner?” he asked before he had really reached a conclusion.

She looked at him puzzled. ‘Don’t…. Don’t do that, Piyali. Don’t ask questions with those innocent eyes of yours,’ he screamed inwardly.

He didn’t know what she made out of all this, but she just nodded. He had to leave for the airport after dinner.

“Don’t let him get to you, Piyali,” he told her before leaving, “Don’t wallow in self-pity. Study well for your last semester and don’t let your grades suffer. You can do that, can’t you?”

She nodded. “You will call, right?” she asked, her anticipation barely concealed.

“Of course. And I will send you my number once I reach. You can call anytime you want to talk.” What the hell was up with this formal permission-taking for calling, he thought with some irritation. What was she thinking? But he didn’t dare ask.

—

“Meet him once, Pihu. He is also in bay area. It will work out just fine,” her father was getting on her nerves. What was this sudden obsession with trying to get her married? The convocation had just been over. She was going to Stanford for her masters. She was just twenty-one -years old.  Her Baba had never come across as one to believe in early marriages. Why was he after her life now? She finally lost her patience.

“Baba. I don’t want to meet him. Or anybody else, for that matter. I know who I want to marry.”

“Oh! Who?” he asked looking worried. What could explain this peculiarity of Indian parents? They would be after their children’s lives to get them married. But the idea that the children too might be thinking of their own marriage sent them into nervous fits!

“Mukundo Babu!” she replied insolently.

“What? What did you say?”

“Mukundo Babu. I want to marry him.”

“Is this some kind of a joke?”

“No Baba.”

“In that case, don’t ever say that again.” Piyali had never felt such chill in her father’s voice.

“But Baba…”

“Shut up, Pihu. Not another word. You will make a fool of yourself and of me too. You don’t seem to have any idea about how ridiculous you are being…”

“Baba. At least listen to me. How can you just…”

He lost his temper and raised his hands. For the first time in his life. But he was stopped before his hand could reach his bewildered daughter. “Kaku. Stop.”

“Mukundo!”

“You can’t raise your hands on her like this, Kaku?”

“Do you have any idea what this girl was saying…”

“She is just a child, Kaku. But you and I know better, don’t we? You can’t hit her,” Mukundo could feel Piyali’s hurt, angry eyes on him. But he did not meet them. “Go to your room, Piyali,” he told her without turning towards her. Tears of insult and guilt filled her eyes as she ran away from there. So, he had reached there just in time to witness her shame, and instead of supporting her, to shame her further?

—

Mukundo slumped in his work-chair in despair. What had she done? Before talking to him, why did she open her mouth before her father? They hadn’t been incommunicative. They had talked on phone over last few months. About usual stuff. About her day, her studies, her assignment submissions, project presentation, his teaching, research and people he was working with. Once in a while he had noticed that longing in her voice, in a lingering pause before disconnecting, in a little sigh, which wasn’t just for a friend, but more. The same longing that he had been feeling for almost four years now. Since the day he had seen her at a wedding in the neighborhood. Dancing away, wearing a low-cut choli with her pink lehanga, the thin dupatta across her chest and around her neck barely doing anything it was supposed to do. He had realized that she was a grown woman now — beautiful and desirable. He had been shocked at his own thoughts involving her — drifting away in a forbidden territory. He had been her friend, philosopher and guide forever. He had known her since she was an infant. He had always loved her. He had always seen an intelligent and cheerful girl in her, whose company he enjoyed, whose smile warmed his heart and whom he hated to see sad. But this was different. Different and wrong. His feelings for her would never be socially acceptable. Her father would be disgusted and so would be she. Not knowing how to deal with it all, he had stopped visiting them. Until she had come to him crying, afraid that she had somehow angered him during the wedding and needed to atone for it. He had no option, but to go back to her, to give in to her whim, to visit her every month, to witness her relationship with Ahwaan and to console her when it went awry.

All that was fine, but his own feelings should not have been revealed to her. Yet they were, and it was going to destroy her. He wasn’t surprised that Mr. Banerjee found the idea preposterous. He had always anticipated that. Many a times during their phone calls in the last few months, he had thought of clearing the air. He had wanted to explain to her that she needed to forget what had happened just before he had left and their relationship should remain platonic and pure. But he couldn’t muster courage to discuss it on phone. He’d do it in person. Because if she was hurt, or felt bad, he needed to be there to support her, to help her heal.

But she didn’t wait for him to do that. What was he to do now?

—

Piyali had stopped coming out to meet him when he visited them. She waited for him to come to her. He did not do that. Had she understood it all wrong, then? Her father looked miserable. Thankfully he did not try to get her to meet any potential groom.

“What you wanted, Pihu, was a childish wish. You are no match for each other,” he explained to her affectionately on the day she was to leave for US. “Focus on your studies there, and do well.” For some reason, she felt that those were Mukundo’s words, more than her father’s. But to him, she just nodded. When they came out to leave for airport, she found Mukundo waiting for them with his car. “I will drop you,” he said. After loading the luggage in the boot, Mr. Banerjee sat with him on the passenger seat and Piyali got into the back seat. Their eyes met a couple of times in the rear-view mirror, but she averted them every time.

“You have checked everything. Tickets, passport? The letters from the university? No liquid in your handbag.” At the airport, Piyali silently bore her father’s fussing over everything. Was Mukundo Babu not going to say anything?

“Take care,” he said as she made to walk in. So close, and yet so distant! She nodded and walked in. She did not look back even to wave to her father. She did not want anyone seeing her tears.

—

To be continued