Rupali was thankful they had packed a dress for Meenal although they hadn’t expected her to get into water. She changed her clothes while everyone else got into their dry clothes. Then Paritosh noticed that Rupali hadn’t changed.

“Aren’t you going to change, Ms. Banerjee?”

“I didn’t bring dry clothes, Dr. Khanna. I wasn’t expecting to get wet. But don’t worry. It will dry soon enough. I didn’t go deep in water.”

“Your top is soaked.”

“It was just Meenal splashing water.”

His brows furrowed for a moment, then he said briskly, “Let’s go.”

He kept the windows of the car open and did not turn on the AC as they drove back. Without a word he stopped in front of a shop and got out of the car. He opened Rupali’s door and said, “I will stay with Meenal. Please go and buy yourself a dress.” He offered her his wallet, “There should be enough cash. If not swipe my card and have them bring the slip out for my signature.”

Rupali stared at him agape for a few moments, then found her voice, “That’s just not needed, Sir. In a little while my clothes will dry–”

“I’m not asking you, Rupali,” he sounded annoyed and there was an authority in the way he uttered her name – her first name. Throwing a quick glance at Maya’s impassive face, she stepped out.

“Mamma… Mamma…” Meenal called after her.

“She wants to go too,” Paritosh said, “Wonderful. Then we can all go. Maya, you want to come? You could buy something too, if you fancy.”

“No, thanks. I am fine buying my clothes in Mumbai.”

Rupali handed his wallet back to Paritosh and helped Meenal out of the car. Then she meekly followed him into the shop.

—

They discovered that the shop didn’t stock western clothes, only Indian.

“That’s fine,” Paritosh said, “She wears Indian.” Knowing that she won’t open her mouth about what she prefers, he ran his eyes over the mannequin displays. A white flaring, floor length dress caught his eyes and he immediately asked for it. His choice startled her out of silence.

“That’s almost a party dress, Sir. I don’t need it. Just something dry to change into,” she desperately addressed the shopkeeper, “Do you have a cotton kurti?”

“Yes, Ma’am. May designs–”

“Please show me something quickly.”

She picked up a kurti and legging at random and asked for a place to change. The shopkeeper directed her to a cramped storage space at the back of the shop. After assuring Meenal that she would be back after changing, she went in.

Once she was out of earshot, Paritosh got the dress on the mannequin also packed up. When she came out after changing, he was already paying and she didn’t know what he had gotten packed. She assumed it was a gift for Maya.

Paritosh dropped them at their home.

“He is a good man,” Soumitra said as they entered their home, “He really cares for you, Didi.”

“He scolded her!” Sugata protested.

“For her own good. Her clothes were soaked. She could not have fallen ill.”

“He scolded her all the same,” Sugata still complained, but knew that his argument held no water.

“Yes, he is a good man,” Rupali agreed, “Not just because he treats me well. He treats everyone well. And he is an excellent teacher too.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was in his class once, for a short time.”

“Before you dropped out?” Soumitra asked gravely.

She nodded, then forced herself to smile, “Anyway! I am so tired. Is it okay if I sleep for a couple of hours and then cook dinner?”

“Yes, Didi. Don’t worry about it,” Soumitra assured her; then asked gently, “Does he know about that? That you were in his class?”

“No,” she said, “How can he? It was a long time ago. I was there barely for a few weeks and he would have had so many students.”

—

“Dr. Khanna! Sorry for bothering again. I think I forgot my phone. It must be there somewhere in Meenal’s room.”

“No problem, Ms. Banerjee. Come in.”

Rupali couldn’t find the phone on the floor, table or the bed side table. She looked beneath the pillows and then saw it peeking out from under a bunch of papers. She reached out to pick up the phone, but forgot about it on seeing the paper.

She turned around and stared at a resigned-looking Paritosh.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” He sighed and picked up her assignment and phone. He handed the phone to her which she accepted absently. He leafed through the assignment. “You had to drop out because of your parents’ death?” he asked.

She nodded, then voiced her astonishment, “How did you find this assignment? It was so long ago.”

“Just one of those things that stay with you.”

She gave a hesitant smile and made to leave.

“Wait, Rupali.”

She looked at him questioningly. The last time he had addressed her by her first name was when he had been angry with her. Even if it was for her own sake.

“Did you ever consider resuming your studies? Finishing your degree?”

He wasn’t angry. Perhaps he used her first name when he was solicitous about her well-being.

She hesitated for a moment. That was not a question she had contended with before. She didn’t want to appear self-pitying. How should she respond?

“That ship has sailed, Dr. Khanna,” she said in a calm, neutral voice, “I have to make sure my brothers’ education doesn’t suffer. That’s all that matters now. I will see you tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night,” he murmured and then thought about the night she had before her. She would sleep for a few hours, cook dinner and then spend the rest of the night working another job. In the morning she would be back here. Perhaps she would manage an hour or so of sleep before that. Even if he gave her the idea of pursuing her degree from an open university, she just didn’t have time to study.

—

To be continued