As Mukundo emerged from that dreadful twelve-year old memory, he realized that something extraordinary had happened. Piyali had left crying. He had never seen her cry. Not even when she was hurt while playing as a child. Not when she had fallen sick with Dengue, not when she was scolded by someone, not when she was nervous before an exam. For the first time in these twelve years, he had witnessed her cry. The alarms bells rang loud. What if she did something disastrous?

He ran out of the study and hesitated for a moment. She may not want to see him right now. He should perhaps send someone else. But who could he send? Not Sonelal, surely. He wouldn’t know what to do if he found her in a vulnerable state. Mohima? But what would he tell her? How will he convey the emergency? No. There wasn’t time for any of that. He would have to go out himself.

Once he stepped out of the house, he spotted the banyan tree in distance. He remembered her sheltered behind the tree the previous day and he instinctively knew that that’s where she was. He ran through the garden, not caring about what plants he stepped on and what flowers he crushed.

As he neared the tree, the sound that was coming from behind it was clear. She was crying. He resisted the urge to go and face her directly. Instead he called out her name, softly, “Piyali!”

The sobbing stopped immediately.  He heard her standing up, sliding her back up along the trunk of the tree. He imagined that she was dizzy and weak from illness and crying; and needed support. But he dared not intrude.

“What is it?” she asked, still sheltered behind the tree.

“You have cold. The garden is still damp from the rain. You can’t stay here. Go home and rest.”

“I will go.”

“Come with me, please.”

Some scuffle, perhaps a frantic attempt to wipe the tears off her face, blowing of her nose into her handkerchief, and then finally she emerged. He pretended not to notice the obvious signs of crying. He offered her his hand, she took it and he walked her home, breaking his silence only at the end to exhort her to rest.

—

Mukundo couldn’t have laid out his step by step reasoning that helped him reach the conclusion. But he was soon convinced that it was his presence in Piyali’s life that was creating all the troubles. So as difficult as it was for him to let her go out of his sight, he argued and fought with everyone to let Piyali go to Delhi for post-graduation if that’s what she wanted. Her father was concerned about the expenses, but Mukundo, taking the baton from his own father, made him accept that expenses will be borne by him.

But the next moment of reckoning came when it was time for her to go to Delhi. Mohima told Mukundo that he should go with her to help her settle down.

“Ma. I can’t go!” he blurted.

“Why? I am sure you can get leave for a few days from the university. Classes won’t pick up for a few weeks anyway.”

“Baba or Debendra Kaku can go…” he offered a feeble alternative.

“You know your Baba is not keeping well. And Debendra Babu would be quite lost there. You need to go. What is going on here? Even Piyali was making excuses that you won’t have time and what not. When have you not had time for her?”

“Ma. She is not a child anymore. It won’t be appropriate for her to travel with me.”

“Oh, come on, Mukundo! You are like a—” she stopped suddenly, gave Mukundo a long look, and then finally asked, “Do you like her, Mukundo?”

“Of course, I like her. We all like her, don’t we?”

“That’s not what I am asking.”

Mukundo blanched. He had to think of something that will do the damage control quickly. “You are getting funny ideas in your head, Ma. Fine, I will go. Rest your brain. But I won’t have time to go by train. We will take a flight. If she has too much luggage for a flight, let’s book it through transport.”

—

Her admission had been a breeze, she had done so well in her exams. But getting a hostel accommodation was another beast. So, they had to find a private accommodation. It was a shared apartment. Piyali said that a cheaper, shared room would be fine, but Mukundo insisted on getting her a private room. He would have rented an entire apartment for her, but staying alone was not a good idea.

Finally, everything was settled and it was time for Mukundo to leave for the airport.

At that moment, Mukundo finally decided to voice his feelings.

“Piyali. This is a new city and can be challenging. You are intelligent, and wise, beyond your years. But I will still say this. Don’t do things that you know very well aren’t right or safe. Here, people… especially men, can take advantage of you if you let yourself be vulnerable and there won’t be anyone to help. And now that I won’t be there to bother you, you will be all right, won’t you? Are you happy?”

His question was sincere and the suffocation that she so wanted to avoid returned all at once.

“Are you not happy,” she croaked, “That there will be one less undeserving refugee crowding your favorite Kolkata? If you are, then I will be all right. This city will not care about who I am. I will not come in anyone’s way and nobody will need to bother me.”

It’s not like it was not coming, but those words felt almost like a physical blow to Mukundo. He rubbed his temple and took a long time to collect himself.

“I was twenty-years old,” he finally spoke, “Still in college, a spoilt brat, drunk on the fantasies of youth. You are the same age now. But you are nothing like that. So, I can’t tell you that you should understand. You won’t understand by looking inside your own self. But perhaps you have friends who are intellectually and emotionally as hollow as I and my friends were back then. Those who know nothing, but think the world of themselves and of their ill-formed understanding of the world. Those who think that they own the world and have the wisdom to dictate how it should be run. It didn’t give me the right to say those hurtful words, but it does explain where they came from. From nowhere, Piyali. And I am sorry, not just because I uttered them, but also because in all these years, I didn’t apologize for them, didn’t try to make amends. Not because I didn’t care for you. But because I was scared to bring it up. I was hoping against hope that you had forgotten. But you have that sharp memory of yours, don’t you? You never forgot. I don’t think I can ask for your forgiveness now. But I am sorry nonetheless. You can continue to hate me for rest of our lives. But please don’t let me be the reason that you take even a single bad decision in your life. I am out of your life. Please take care of yourself.”

He didn’t have the heart to see her reaction. So, he immediately turned on his heels and left.

—

To be continued