Piyali was teaching senior classes. It was a good thing, because if she reached out to Sumedha and took interest in her, it won’t amount to her favoring a student. But that also made it difficult for her to make contact with the child. Finally she found an opportunity. Sumedha had gotten the gift of soulful voice from her father and her talent was apparent even at that young an age. She had been picked up for an upcoming music program in the school. Piyali pretended interest in the program, which wasn’t completely false, and went for the practice sessions.

Sumedha was painfully shy in the beginning, and also very fearful and dejected of the boarding life, but Piyali knew her way around the kids. She got her to open up slowly. But their relationship was sealed when Sumedha fell ill soon after the programme.

“I prefer to send children to their parents when they are so ill,” the warden confided in Piyali when she visited her in the sick room, “They are better cared for, and the risk of infecting other kids is not there. But her father lives in the US.”

“Is it okay, if I took her to my house?”

“Do you know her? You seem to take quite an interest in her.”

Piyali sighed and then replied cryptically, “She reminds me of someone I have lost.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s silly really, but…”

“I don’t think so. I will ask the principal. If he is okay with it…”

—

The principal didn’t mind and Piyali brought the half-unconscious child to her two-room house in teachers’ quarter. She applied for all the casual leaves she had accumulated. For the first two days, fever would not relent. Piyali barely even blinked and spent all the time by the sick bed, taking her temperature, giving her cold strips, feeding her liquid and semi-solid food according to the doctor’s advice, cleaning up if she soiled the bed and praying for her health.

Finally on the third day, Sumedha opened her eyes. “Pishima,” she mumbled, still unaware of her surroundings. Piyali felt a lump in her throat and controlled her tears with some effort.

“It’s me, Sumedha. Miss Banerjee. Are you feeling better?”

“I am thirsty.”

“Not a problem… Let me help you sit up… There… Good girl… Here you go… Water….”

Hardly had she had her fill of water, when she threw up.

“Oh God! Relax, relax, sweetie,” she rubbed the child’s back to help her. Partly from the exhaustion of vomiting and partly from the guilt of soiling the bed, Sumedha started crying.

“It’s over, it’s over Sumedha. You will feel much better now. Stop crying,” Piyali comforted her as she cleaned her up. Then she took her to the other room, lay her down on the clean bed and cuddled her.

“You are not angry?”

“What for?”

“I spoiled the bed.”

“You are ill, Sumedha. What could you have done? Don’t be silly. Just give me ten minutes. I will bring you something to eat.”

“I don’t want to eat.”

“But you must. Otherwise you will not recover.”

“I will throw up again.”

“Then I will clean it up again. It’s not your problem, sweetie.”

—

Two years later…

“You used to stay in Kolkata, Miss?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Did you know my mother?”

“No, Sumedha. Why do you ask?”

“Just like that. Would she have been like you if she had lived?”

“A thousand times better than me,” she turned away on some pretext to wipe her tears.

—

Another two years later…

“Mukundo, she is still not married. I know that for sure,”

“Who Boudi?”

“Piyali. Who else?”

“Why are you telling me that?”

“Come on, Mukundo. You know very well…”

“Who told you about it? It was not supposed to be known…”

Maitrayee sighed.

“Baba?”

She nodded.

“Hmm! He wouldn’t want to let an opportunity to insult a woman pass, would he? Did he taunt you for how your niece behaved?”

“Let it go, Mukundo. He is the elder of the family. I don’t take to heart anything he says.”

“Then why are you telling me about her?”

“Nobody knows what it was. But she was young, Mukundo. If she did make a mistake…”

“What do you want, Boudi?”

“Talk to her once?”

“Is she in Kolkata?”

“No.”

“Where then?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t want anyone to know. And Kaku worries about her, but respects her wish.”

“So let her be, Boudi. She won’t lack suitors. She has everything going for her.”

“And you? What do you have going for you except drinking?”

“Precisely why I shouldn’t talk to her.”

—

“How was your vacation, Sumedha?”

“One month is still left, isn’t it? But as usual, Baba could not stay away from his job for more than four weeks.”

“You go to your Kaku’s place, right?” She remembered Maitrayee’s and Shroban’s cozy, little home. One she would never go back to!

“Yes. Also visited my Pishima for a week. But Kaki insists on Baba staying with them. She wanted me to stay on, even after Baba had left. But Baba wouldn’t agree.”

“Well. Good you came back. Else I would have been bored.”

“Why do you always come back early, Miss?”

“I never go, Sumedha. Kolkata is bad in summers, isn’t it? My family comes here to meet me.”

“Are they still here? Should I go back to the hostel?”

“No. Your room is ready. They have already left.”

—

To be continued