“Daddy. I have finished milk. A full glass of it. Mou Auntie. Now tell me the stories.”

“Sure. Come here. Or do you want to walk outside?”

“Outside.”

“She is fond of outdoors.

“Like both of you.”

“Yes. She can already trek with me on the nearby hills,” Siddhartha’s eyes tinkled with fatherly pride.

“Once your Mamma and I had a fight…” Mou began her story.

“You used to fight?”

“Yes. All the time.”

“But fighting is not good.”

“You can fight with friends. But you must make up quickly.”

“Daddy. You are my friend, right?”

“Yes,” Siddhartha grinned, knowing where this was going.

“Then I can fight with you.”

“But you must make up quickly,” Mou reminded her.

“As soon as Daddy brings me chocolate, I make up.”

Mou and Siddhartha laughed out loud, much to Smriti’s delight.

Smriti was still very active after they had come back in to the house. “Shall I show you Mamma’s photos, Mou Auntie?”

“Sure.”

“I recognize you in some of the photos.”

“You do? That’s very clever.”

“But Daddy doesn’t have any of their wedding photographs. He said they were destroyed in an accident.”

Mou looked uncomfortably at Siddhartha, who smiled helplessly.

“Do you have any photos of their wedding on your phone, Mou Auntie?”

“No sweetheart. I didn’t have a camera phone then.”

“How sad! I will bring the photographs,” she ran off to her room.

—

“It was really good of you to come, Mou,” Siddhartha said when she made to leave the next morning.

“Time flies, Prof. Sen. I had meant to come much earlier. But something or the other…”

“Make time now… I need a replenishment of Mamma stories,” he said jocularly.

“Don’t worry. She is old enough now. I will talk to her on phone and supply those.”

—

Another 12 years later.

“You have written so many exams. I’m sure you will get through one of them, darling. Must you go to Kolkata as well?” Smriti was done with her board examinations and was now writing entrance tests for various medical colleges.

“What is the harm, Daddy? Why leave anything to chance?”

“It’s too far. And I am not able to come with you.”

“I have been to Bangalore, Daddy. And Mou Auntie will be there to receive me as soon as I reach.”

“The weather is horrible. You are not used to it at all.”

“So it was in Chennai. Now really. You must stop making alibis and let me go, Daddy.”

Siddhartha gave up. He usually did, when it was only his feelings, and not rationality, that meant to stop Smriti from doing something. Because Karishma had wanted him to give her choices. But he must have a chat with Mou and ask her to keep away from Karishma’s families, especially her husband’s. The fact that Smriti had grown up to look so similar to Karishma made him even more uneasy on this occasion.

Smriti was so insistent on going to Kolkata for the same reason for which Siddhartha wanted to stop her. To find out about her true identity. She knew that her mother was from Kolkata. And a few months back she had discovered that Siddhartha was not her father. It had started in the biology class, when the teacher had told them about the relationship between the blood group of parents and children. Along with her friend Tanu, she had tried to guess her mother’s blood group. But she had realized that hers and Siddhartha’s blood groups were not compatible at all. If the father had Siddhartha’s blood group, his child could not have had Smriti’s, irrespective of what mother’s was. She had meant to go to the teacher, but Tanu had stopped her.

“I think I know the reason,” she had said.

“What?”

“I have overheard my parents… I think… you are adopted.”

Smriti’s first reaction had been of disbelief. But the proof was right before her eyes.  What should she do? Who should she ask?

“Please don’t tell anyone that I told you about this, Smriti,” Tanu had pleaded, “My parents hadn’t meant for me to know it…”

Smriti had gone to her old nanny. The woman was now quite old and sick. She had initially refused to say anything, but had finally relented. “Your parents were his friends and they had died in an accident. But don’t tell him anything, sweetie. He loves you so much. He has devoted his life to you. He would be heartbroken.”

Smriti could not disagree with that, but the question of her origins, her identity gnawed at her. She was particularly perplexed because all her life, Sidhartha had told her stories of her mother as if they were married. But if she was adopted, then where was her father? What were these stories? What exactly was her mother’s relationship with Siddhartha? She saw this trip to Kolkata as a possibility to answer these questions. Not only she prevailed upon Siddhartha to allow her to go, she also made her trip two-weeks long. “This is the last exam, Daddy. I can take a holiday,” she had reasoned, “And I am sure Mou Auntie doesn’t mind.”

—

Smriti had pestered Mou to take her to see the house her mother had grown up in. Mou had lied to her that her family no longer lived there and Mou wouldn’t know anyone even if they were there. But even if she could see it only from outside, she must see it.

While they stood at some distance from the house, someone came out of it. Mou was startled to see that it was a lawyer of her acquaintance. Not wanting to be noticed, she tried to hurry Smriti away, but the lawyer had seen her.

“Mou. Hi.”

“Hi Srinivas.”

“Hello,” he also turned to Smriti had greeted her. Mou felt compelled to introduce them.

“This is Smriti, my friend’s daughter. Smriti. Srinivas is a very famous lawyer in Kolkata and I often meet him for my work…”

“So what are you doing here?” Srinivas interjected before Mou could give an alibi to go.

“My mother had grown up in this house,” Smirit replied, before Mou could, “Since I was visiting Kolkata, I wanted to see it.”

“Is it? What’s her name?” Srinivas was suddenly more interested.

“Karish…”

“I’m getting late, Smriti. Sorry Srinivas. We must rush off.” She practically dragged Smriti away.

“What happened, Mou Auntie?”

“He is a creep, Smriti. Too bad I have to meet him for work. Else I would not want to even recognize him. Especially when I am with you,” Mou replied truthfully. She had assigned his unnecessary curiosity about Smriti to his usual sleaziness.

Although Mou did, in general, not want anyone to know about Smriti and Karishma, she hadn’t imagined that the lawyer would have particular interest in knowing about it.

“Why did you never marry, Mou Auntie?” Smriti asked Mou that evening.

“Because men are hopeless.”

“Daddy is not.”

“No sweetie. Your Daddy is not. But he was taken. What could I do?”

Smriti chuckled.

—

To be continued