Mukundo could not get into a serious conversation with Piyali again while they stayed in Mumbai. Debangi almost never left her side and he did not have the heart to ask her to be away from her ailing daughter. On Debangi’s part, her sole focus was on Piyali’s physical recovery. As far as the reason of the mishap was concerned, she had declared Ahwaan to be a villain and had decided that marrying her daughter outside the community was a mistake. “You can never find out what sort of a person they are, if you don’t know people around them,” she would say. She didn’t bear him any ill-will for encouraging the match. She was only grateful that he was around, as always. But Mukundo himself felt responsible and wretched. His sole consolation was his belief that he would gain Piyali’s confidence again and really understand what was going on with her. So he was bidding his time until they could be back in Kolkata.

Meanwhile he had gleaned whatever information he could from Shanta. She had left Ahwaan’s home three months ago. She had enough money of her own to not bother anyone about it. She had been living in an apartment with Shanta. Shanta had accompanied her from Kolkata after her marriage. So, they were comfortable together. But while talking to her mother, Piyali had kept up the pretense that all was well in her life, while she had stopped talking to Mukundo altogether. Mukundo was exasperated on hearing this. Why had Shanta not informed them about the separation? Piyali had strictly forbidden her from doing so. What was the reason for fights and separation? Shanta couldn’t say, but it did seem like something about money?

Money? It didn’t make sense to Mukundo. Ahwaan was a high-flying investment banker. Piyali’s family wealth was immense. Which of them would need to fight over money? And fight so much that it should to lead to a separation within three months of getting married?

On their flight back, sitting across from Debangi’s and Piyali’ in a separate row, he recalled what she had told him about Ahwaan. She had met him through a friend when he was on an assignment in Kolkata. They had clicked almost instantly. He had accompanied her on her weekend camping, trekking and outings.  Mukundo always kept an eye on her outings to ensure that she was safe. Once, she had wanted to go camping in a forest some two-hundred kilometers from the city. Mukundo knew that the place had weeds that she was allergic to. But she wouldn’t give up. How could he possibly know about the weeds in that faraway place? And she could always avoid it. He had made her promise that the camp organizers would go to the nearest village and call him if she had even tiniest of the troubles. Hardly had they set up their tents, when she had started sneezing. The organizers did go to the village and call him. Without telling her, he had himself been staying in that village that night. He had brought her back immediately and admitted her to the hospital.

Despite this overprotectiveness, he didn’t bother much about people accompanying her. Most of them were her friends for years. There had never been any trouble with them. He hadn’t paid any attention when Ahwaan had slipped in to that group.

Her relationship with Ahwaan had become serious enough in the six months they were together and hence they were married by the time his assignment in Kolkata was over. She had left her job as an artist in a marketing agency and had shifted with him to Mumbai. And in another six months, she had felt depressed enough to slit her wrists. Why?

—

They settled her in the bed on reaching Kolkata.

“Do you want some tea, Mukundo?”

“That would be great, Kaki.”

“I will ask Promila to send a cup.”

“And you should take rest, Kaki. Piyali is alright.”

“I will take a nap.”

“Yes. Please do. And ask Promila to bring some tea for Piyali too. With cardamom,” it was her favorite, although Mukundo didn’t like his tea with cardamom.

“Sure. Aren’t you going to take rest?”

“I am fine for now. I will stay with her.”

He turned to Piyali after Debangi left. She looked ashen-faced.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Don’t be so nice to me, Mukundo Babu. You should hate me.”

“Hate you?” he averted his eyes for a moment; then looked back at her. She felt that his eyes would penetrate her soul. “You are such an idiot, Piyali. You never realized, did you, that I love you in more ways than one, in myriad ways?”

“Mukundo Babu!”

“There is one time when I have hated you in life. When I got that call from Shanta about what you had done. First, you didn’t talk to me for three months. Then… How could you do that? Did I mean nothing to you?”

“You meant more to me than I ever realized, Mukundo Babu. And I was so ashamed. I am so ashamed.”

“What are you ashamed of?”

She did not reply. But silent tears started rolling down her cheeks. Mukundo closed his eyes for a moment to contain his own and then gently wiped hers.

“Stop this,” he said feigning sternness, “You need to get better, not worse.”

The tea came. Mukundo took the tray from Promila. Promila stayed a minute to ask after Piyali; then left them alone again. Piyali sat up and picked up her cup with her right hand. She faltered a bit and instinctively tried to use her left hand to balance the cup. But that hand lied limp beside her. Mukundo noticed her faltering at the same time and held her cup with his hands to steady her. The little tea that spilled did not fall on her hand, but on his. Her eyes grew moist again, but she blinked back the tears and sipped her tea in silence. He did notice her emotional state though. He was used to noticing small things about her. If only she hadn’t been so far away from him, it would never have come to this.

—

To be continued