“Piyali!” Mukundo shouted through the French window of his library. The rather low brick wall between their houses was not much of a barrier for this mode of comunication.

“Aashchhi…” came the irritated reply – I am coming.

Mukundo grinned unawares as he continued to sort through the books. She came running and complaining as expected.

“Can’t you give me time to even eat, Mukundo Babu? Must you start shouting? You know I come back only at three from work… Still…”

When she was younger, instead of work, she came back from school. Till a couple of months back, it was college. After finishing college, she was teaching at a dance school. Her complaint remained the same through these changes. And their effectiveness didn’t grow on Mukundo. He couldn’t help calling for her at the exact time he expected her to return.  Asking was his habit. Coming yet complaining was hers.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“It has been a long time. The books here need to be sorted. Help me.”

“Of course! Am I not your slave labor?” That was another habit of theirs. He liked having her by his side in anything he did. Maintaining his library, gardening, singing practice… She grumbled, but obliged him. And he knew better than to take her grumbling seriously. She didn’t mean it. She was as used to his demands as he was to her presence. How upset she got if he ever fell ill, or when he had to travel. She would wander around in his house, his library, his garden and tire Shanti – his housekeeper – out by asking every five minutes by when would he return or recover. Even though she knew the answer very well!

“It’s six-thirty. Kaku would be home. Shouldn’t we be going?”

After spending their afternoon together, they usually went to her house to have tea with her father – Debendra Banerjee. Piyali was the one to do time-keeping usually. So, Mukundo was surprised that she hadn’t noticed the time and was still lingering around.

“Umm… yeah…”

“What is it?”

“What should I ask him, Mukundo Babu?”

“Ask whom? Kaku?”

“Huh? No! I am talking about Pronab.”

“Who is Pronab?”

“Who is… What the hell… Didn’t Baba tell you his name?”

“Piyali! Will you please explain what you are going on and on about? What was Kaku supposed to tell me? And who is Pronab?”

“He forgot, as usual.” Piyali sighed and slumped on an easy chair.

“So, you can tell me. What is going on?”

“Pronab is some relative of Pishima’s. She talked to Baba about him. And I am supposed to meet him tomorrow.”

“For?”

She gave an annoyed grunt instead of replying. Was he deliberately acting dumb?

“Are… are you getting… married?” he was indeed caught unawares.

“Probably!” she was still annoyed. This time at her father, for omitting to talk about something so important with Mukundo.

“Oh!”

He looked perplexed. He didn’t know how to react to the situation.

“Baba must be back already. Let’s go.” she relieved him of the compulsion to react. She couldn’t get a meaningful answer from him for her questions then. So, it was better to abandon the conversation.

“Yeah… Okay…”

—

“Mukundo! I was waiting for you. You must come with me to meet Pronab tomorrow.”

“I had no idea…” he laughed nervously.

“You know me, Mukundo. Just slipped off my mind. If Didi hadn’t reminded me this morning…”

“Sometimes you really need to stop being the forgetful professor, Kaku,” Mukundo ostensibly joked, but Piyali could detect a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Only if Debangi was around…”

“Kaku!”

“Yes… yes… Let’s have tea. Promila, we should also have some singhara today…”

“Baba… You can’t be so forgetful that you forget your diabetes.”

“Once in a while is okay, Shona…”

“I will send someone for it, then…”

Piyali sneaked out with that alibi and did not go back to drawing room, where Mukundo and her father sat talking. Mukundo joined her in the verandah after a while.

“Getting married… Wow!” he came to stand beside her.

“You are completely taken by surprise,” she continued looking out.

“By shock, more like it.”

“Why?”

“Why do you have to get married?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Stupid kind, I suppose…”

She turned to look at him, expecting to see a smile at his own joke. But there was the same perplexed moroseness on his face as earlier. She looked away.

“I think the real question is not why I have to get married. Rather, why you never married…”

“Everyone knows that…”

“One betrayal… All those years ago…”

“Forget about that. I don’t even feel the need. But you will get married. And he is in the US. You will become a visitor to Kolkata. Yearly visitor if we are lucky. Otherwise…”

“I don’t know if I am getting married to him. Only if we both like each other… Only if…”

“Well…”

“Only if you also approve of him,” she added firmly despite his interruption.

“Hmm…”

“I don’t understand your reaction.”

“Me neither. Give me some time to digest this. We’ll talk tomorrow. Good night.”

—

“Didi will also be there. She is coming from Pronab’s grandmother’s place with him. She will come back with us though. We will take both our cars and leave mine with Pihu after lunch. She can take Pronab around in that. The three of us will come back in your car,” Mr. Banerjee explained the entire plan to Mukundo.

“What will you bet? This elaborate plan in Pishima’s,” Mukundo whispered in Piyali’s ear.

“Nothing,” she replied grinning, “I won’t bet anything. It is hers.”

Piyali’s Pishima, Mr. Banerjee’s elder sister, with her usual tact soon put everyone at ease over lunch. Pronab’s Bengali was labored and English was American. Not surprising. He had been born and brought up in US by the immigrant Bengali parents. But he was pleasant enough to talk to. There was an openness about him that Mukundo could not help liking despite his misgivings about the entire affair. He did wonder about why he would come to India for an arranged marriage. But this wasn’t the time or place to ask that.

Pronab was working towards a tenured position at University of Texas. But he also liked the idea of moving to Bay Area. It was the most happening place. He was in India on a long leave. His parents would join him later and would also like to meet all of them, should things progress… Mukundo noticed Piyali in her baby pink salwar-kameez. The color suited her so well. He almost wished she hadn’t worn that. Pronab was clearly as aware of her loveliness as Mukundo was. And how different her demeanor was today. The shy smile, those sidelong glances she threw at Pronab every once in a while, the soft, low voice in which she talked to him…

“How did you like him, Mukundo?” Mr. Banerjee asked him on their ride back. As planned, Piyali and Pronab had stayed back. He didn’t drive in India. Piyali would drop him to nearest taxi stand and then come back.

“He is quite likable. There isn’t much more you could know in one meeting.”

“Of course, of course, it will be Pihu’s decision.”

“Oh! I am sure she will like him,” Pishima butted in excitedly to Mukundo’s annoyance, “He might have been raised in America. But he is Indian at heart. His parents have made sure of that.”

Mukundo didn’t see the logic. Or even the meaning in that. What did being an Indian at heart mean? That he was willing to go for an arranged marriage? Or probably what he saw as a blind date being set-up by relatives instead of friends? Or was it that he celebrated his festivals and went to the temples? Could any of these have any bearing on Piyali’s future happiness? What would matter to Piyali in her married life? What were her dreams about her life partner? What romantic fantasies occupied her? He didn’t know! What was she talking about right now with Pronab? Was she telling him about her favorite color? Her favorite sweet dish? What was her favorite color? He liked pink the best on her. But did she like it too? He had learned to make ice-cream at home and often made it for her, so that she didn’t spoil her voice by eating those outside. But was that her favorite dessert? He had no fucking clue. By the time they reached home, he was so annoyed with himself that he didn’t want to spend another second in anyone’s company. He declined Mr. Banerjee’s invitation of joining them for tea and went straight to his home.

He walked into his library first. Many books still remained to be arranged. They hadn’t been able to finish the task yesterday. And now she wouldn’t have time to help him. He went to the garden and the thought that he would have to tend it on his own depressed him so much that he immediately scuttled out. He listlessly walked to his room and decided to sleep off his bad mood. He didn’t wake up even for dinner.

—

To be continued