6 years later

Mukundo and Piyali were playing a game of cards, with Sumedha perched up on Piyali’s lap when Mohima walked in.

“What is going on?” she asked, settling herself on the sofa.

“Baba is cheating, Thakuma. He isn’t letting Mashima win any rounds.”

“Is he now?” Mohima laughed.

“Perhaps your Baba is just better at it than me, Sumi,” Piyali said and threw her cards on the table, “I lost again.”

“That’s very ungentlemanly of you, Mukundo,” Mohima grinned, “You should have let her win a few times.”

“This ward of yours, Ma,” Mukundo replied in the same vein, “Has become too much a feminist to accept my losing willingly.”

“What is “too much of a feminist”?” Piyali made a face, “You are either a feminist or you are not.”

“I want a lemon soda,” Sumedha interjected with her demand.

“Go to the kitchen and ask Sonelal to make one for you,” Mohima said. After the child was out of earshot, she turned to Piyali, “Right now is as good as any other time, Piyali. There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What is it, Kaki?” Piyali grew nervous at Mohima’s somber tone.

“Nothing worrisome. Just some future planning.”

Piyali only shot her a quizzical glance, while Mukundo was startled. He knew what it meant when his mother used that phrase. Piyali didn’t.

“You know your mother wanted to get you married because she thought it was the only way to secure your future.”

“Of course, I do. But you–”

“Opposed the idea and brought you here, instead. Because you were too young to be married off just then. But now is the right time to start thinking about it again.”

Mukundo watched Piyali’s profile. She looked more stunned than either shy or anxious.

It was after a long pause that she spoke, in a trembling voice, “Am I a trouble here now, Kaki?”

“Don’t be silly, Piyali. Marriage is not a way to get rid of you. It is a way to find a life partner with whom you can happy your entire life.”

Mukundo stood up. “Perhaps I should leave,” he said.

Piyali shot him a glance and their eyes met for moment. For hours afterwards, he could not get rid of the notion that her eyes were accusing him of something. Of what? Certainly, she couldn’t be comfortable with his presence during that discussion. That was the reason he had voluntarily left. Or was it?

—

Mohima came to his room later that evening.

“She is behaving strangely,” his mother said.

“Who?”

“Piyali, of course.”

“You sprang up the subject of marriage on her from nowhere–”

“It’s not that. It’s not the suddenness. It’s rather the certainty with which she says she doesn’t want to get married.”

“Give it time, Ma.”

“I told her that I am not expecting her to get married tomorrow. I only wanted her to think about it. She wouldn’t have to get married to the first guy we come across. I asked her if there was someone–”

“There is no one,” Mukundo interrupted without meaning to.

“You have spoken to her about it?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“It’s just that—I don’t know. We always seem to know where she is. There has never been a mystery about her life or schedule.”

“You are right. But then what is it? And I assure you that it wasn’t shyness or unpreparedness for the discussion. She didn’t seem to be waiting for that perfect soulmate either. Her certainty was unnerving, even if she was saying it in a shaking, weak, guilty voice. Would you talk to her?”

“Me?”

“Haven’t the two of you left that little incident behind you? Aren’t you great friends?”

“We are, Ma. But–”

“Please Mukundo. You know I have an intuition about people. I wouldn’t ask you to do it if I thought it was merely her unpreparedness to think about it.”

“All right,” he said with a sigh, “I will try.” And he wondered how on earth would he initiate that conversation with her.

—

Piyali’s door was open and she was sitting with Sumedha, helping her with her homework. Mukundo knocked just to draw her attention and then walked in.

“Please sit, Mukundo Babu,” Piyali said without making much fuss, “We will be done with Sumi’s homework in a moment.” Since Piyali had finished her post-graduation and had taken up a job as a teacher, she had completely taken over the responsibility of overseeing Sumedha’s studies. “It helps me become a better teacher too,” she had said when Mukundo had expressed concerns about whether it will burden her too much.

“I will try to not disturb,” Mukundo grinned presently and pulled up a chair. He spoke again after the girls were done with the homework. “Why don’t you go out and play with your friends now, Sumi?”

“Isn’t Mashima coming with me?”

“You are a big girl now, Sumi. You can go by yourself. Don’t go farther than the park though, okay? Piyali will stay here. I have to talk to her.”

Piyali’s head jerked in surprise. Mukundo noticed, but pretended not to.

He turned to face her after Sumedha had left. “Ma asked me to speak to you.”

In an uncharacteristic reaction, she bowed her head and did not utter a word.

Mukundo chuckled nervously, “I absolutely don’t want to pester you, Piyali. Whatever you choose to do, it really is your life and your decision. Whatever makes you happy. Just tell me that you are not ready for the marriage discussion right now and that will be it. I came to talk only because Ma felt like there was something else behind your hesitation. Is there?”

She slowly lifted her head, but didn’t look at him. “I don’t want to get married.”

“Not now, right?”

“Not ever.”

Mukundo sat up on hearing that. For the first time, he gave credence to Mohima’s fear that something was going on in Piyali’s mind. Outwardly he spoke calmly.

“That is a fair choice, Piyali. You know me. You know about my friends, many of whom have made unconventional life choices and are happy. Including the choice of not getting married. But convention is there for a reason. It works for most people. If you decide to go against convention, you should have a good reason. And if you give me a good reason, I promise I will not pester you again.”

“I prefer to maintain my independence,” she said.

Her voice was flat, her slouched shoulders looked unconvincing.

Mukundo shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Marrying the right person is not about losing your independence. It is about getting some support. We all need support in our lives.”

“Nobody knows it better than me, Mukundo Babu. But I have support here, in this house.”

“Piyali–”

“I can’t stay here forever, Mukundo Babu. I know that. And I am capable to staying on my own. Even today. And I will do it whenever you think it is time for me to move out–”

“Stop it, Piyali. Do you really think that I and Ma want to send you away?”

He paused and Piyali realized that the question was not rhetorical. So, at last she shook her head.

“And you must realize that this conversation is no longer about your marriage. It is about your well-being. What I feel right now is that there is something to worry about. Something you are not telling me. What is it, Piyali?”

“Nothing. Nothing, Mukundo Babu. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am not ready to think about it just now. I–”

“Has anybody hurt you? Now or sometime in past?”

She shook her head.

“Is there someone you are afraid to tell us about? You know that neither Ma, nor I care for things like caste, religion or whatever else.”

Mukundo noticed a moment of delay before she shook her head.

“Look at me, Piyali,” there was a harshness and edge in his voice. Piyali looked up, scared. “You are not being honest with me, and let’s not even debate this. But you are not a child and I am not your guardian. So, I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t force you, but know that until you come clean I will be worried about you.”

With those words, he stood up and left.

Piyali buried her face in her knees and sobbed silently.

—

To be continued