She continued crying even after she was seated on the ground and it was ascertained that neither of them were hurt. He assumed that she was shocked and afraid. “It’s okay, Piyali. Calm down. You are all right. Safe…”

“You… your…”

“I am fine too. See. Not a scratch. I was careful, when I pulled you off.”

“I mean… your motorcycle…” she managed to speak through her sobs.

“Motorcycle? Oh!” he had completely forgotten the fate of his beloved vehicle. His heart sank for a moment when he saw its pitiable condition. Its engine was still running, but Mukundo wasn’t sure it could carry them back.

“I’m so… so… sorry, Mukundo Babu. I just blacked out. I couldn’t… Oh God! You are angry… You won’t talk to me…”

She had guessed it right. If it were anybody other than her who was responsible for that condition of his bike, Mukundo Thakur wouldn’t have talked to the person for rest of their lives, and done much worse than that, but… The one time he had acted on his threat of not talking to her, when she had eaten ice cream before her music exam despite him warning her against it, she had been so miserable that it had come to her father’s attention and he had had to intervene, with his frail nerves and all! Mukundo had vowed never to do that with her again, irrespective of how much she tested his patience. And this time he was feeling as guilty as she was.

“Calm down, Piyali. It is a bike, a machine. It can be fixed. What is important is you are safe. I have myself pulled a stint for which I shouldn’t talk to myself… Pulling you off a running bike like that. But… I couldn’t think of anything else. Come, Piyali. Let’s go home. Oh wait… How will we go… I will call the driver… He will bring the car…”

“The motorcycle?”

“It will have to go to Kolkata for servicing. I will find the number of the service center. Hope they can pick it up today itself.”

“Kolkata?”

“Yes. I can’t give it here. To people servicing Bajaj’s and scooties! Can’t imagine what they would do to this Harley Davidson…”

“I’m sorry, Mukundo Babu.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Not a word to Baba,” she reminded him as they got down at her home.

“Not a word…”

“I wish he wasn’t so nervous about everything… I wish I knew how to reassure him…” she started saying, but her voice trailed away.

“Piyali!” his voice was thick with emotions, “You are a good daughter. Nobody could do more for him than you do.”

—

“Your Maths journals, and sadness again!” her voice broke Mukundo’s reverie. He was in his library.

He smiled at her, “Not sadness, Piyali. Thoughtfulness. I like poring over them, and thinking them through.”

“Don’t they remind you of lost dreams?” She sauntered in and made herself comfortable in a chair opposite him.

“They are the closest I can be to my dreams.”

“Hmm… There are some books in your library that I have noticed… Can I borrow them?”

“Books? You? Wow! Of course, you can borrow them. You can steal them if you want. If there are books you want to read… Which ones?”

“I read enough of Sharat Chandra and Robi Thakur to Kaki,” she said, “So not those.” Mukundo smiled. Piyali spent several hours on weekends with his mother, who never talked, but clearly loved being read to.

She ambled through the aisles and was back with two books in no time. “These for the time being.” She must have marked them out for reading earlier. They were travelogues. Closest she could be to her dreams. Of travelling far and wide. She didn’t voice it often. For the fear of upsetting her father. But he knew.

“Kolkata Book Fair is round the corner. I will get you more such books from there.”

“That’d be great. Are you coming home? It’s tea time almost.”

“Yeah.”

Unless something pressing came up, Mukundo always had his evening tea with Piyali and her father. Then he stayed on for couple of hours. Sometimes practicing music with Piyali, sometimes helping her with her homework, and sometimes just engaging Mr. Banerjee in a conversation so that she could have time for herself.

Once a month, he went to Kolkata. He met up with his friends at the university, got the latest copies of Maths journals from them, bought some gifts for Piyali, any medicines for his mother and her father, which were not available in Haldia, and books for his library.

Studying Maths had been his dream. And initially there hadn’t appeared any difficulties in pursuing it. His father’s business in the port town of Haldia was prospering. He fully supported his son when he didn’t want to join business, instead pursue academics. After finishing his undergraduation, Mukundo was trying to decide where to go for his Masters and Ph. D. He had to choose between ISI Kolkata and couple of offers from American universities. But the disaster struck before he could make his decision. His father died in an accident. Mr. Thakur had the long term plan to put in place a professional management in his business. But no work had yet started in that direction. He was expecting to have many years to achieve the goal, which were snatched away suddenly by a stroke of fate. His death had another disastrous consequence. Mukundo’s mother never got over the shock and became withdrawn. She would neither speak, nor laugh, nor cry. She would also not step out of the house even to see the doctor.

These circumstances meant that Mukundo could not leave the town. He also had to take over the business he had never intended to involve himself with. Depression would have washed over him, but for one person in his life. Nine-year-old Piyali.

She had been more unfortunate than even him with the life and health of her parents. Her mother had died when she was six. Her death was a result of a road accident followed by internal injury and infection that went undiagnosed. Mr. Banerjee had been a nervous sort of man even before that. But this accident had spun his hypochondria and fear of traveling out of control. It had created a situation where instead of him parenting Piyali, she had to adopt that role at a very tender age. Thankfully, as their neighbor and family friends, Mukundo and his parents had stepped in to take care of the child and also help her cope with her father’s condition. But in the aftermath of his own father’s death, which left even his mother incapable of shouldering any parenting responsibilities, Mukundo had become Piyali’s de-facto guardian. This was the only responsibility that he did not grudge. The young girl had been his friend anyway and having her around pleased and calmed him like nothing else.

—

To be continued