Mukundo was restless since his return from Delhi. The concert and the time he spent with Piyali on the following Sunday before catching his flight were his undoing. He realized not only how much he had missed her since she had left Kolkata, but also what he had missed in all those years before that. Never before had a concert or a conversation with her been so satisfying before. Now that she was expressing herself before him without reserve, he was even more enchanted than before. What was he to do about this ache he always carried around with him? His body and soul aching for her!

Soon Mohima noticed and she asked him, “Is there something you are not telling us, Mukundo?”

“What do you mean, Ma?”

“Ever since you have come back from Delhi… Was everything all right with Piyali? Is there any trouble?”

He was relieved. It was easy to answer that honestly, “No Ma. No trouble at all. She has adjusted to her independent life very well.”

“Then, are you in some kind of trouble? Why do I feel like you are never really here? You are lost, distracted, melancholy even.”

“You are writing poetry, Ma.”

“No. When you have to literally call you son five times before he realizes that you are talking to him, sitting right in front of him, you don’t write poetry. You worry.”

“Oh, Ma!”

“Either get a grip of yourself, or share with us what your problem is. It can’t go on like this.” She left him alone after this ultimatum. But Mukundo knew that it wasn’t the last he was hearing of it.

—

And the next he heard of it came in a different form. An alarming form too.

“Mukundo. When do you think you are getting married?” Mohima asked all of a sudden during dinner a few days later.

“What? Where did that come from?”

“From your mother.”

“You had promised me that you won’t be that kind of a parent–”

“Sure. But that promise was made when you were twenty-five. Now you are thirty-two.”

“That’s not fair, Ma.”

“Mukundo. We will not be around forever. Spending a lonely life will not feel like a good idea forever.”

“Can we just eat, Ma? Baba?” he looked at his father for support.

But all Aurbindo said was, “Your Ma is right.”

Mohima let it go after that and changed the subject. But Mukundo knew that his mother had figured out exactly what was going on with him and would not rest until she had made him confess. But why did she want to make him confess? She didn’t really think it was a good idea, did she?

—

This time Mukundo paid a visit to Mohima.

“Ma! You asked Piyali to find out why I won’t get married, did you?”

“I discussed it with her. This was not the first time.”

“I see. What is it that you want to know?”

“Whatever it is that you are not telling me.”

“Fine. You want to see me making a fool of myself. Then here it is. I don’t know why I have not married all these years. Just never felt right. But right now – yes, I like Piyali. Exactly in the sense that you had asked. I am in love with her. As absurd as it is, that’s the fact. Now you know it. Happy? Nobody else needs to know. I don’t know how I will get over it, but I will figure out. Now can we not talk about it ever again?”

“Why? Why not talk about it? I agree – there is an age-difference. But there is no law against it. There are all kinds of couples in the world. I am sure Debendra Babu and Debangi will be delighted–”

“Ma! It’s not about them. It’s about her.”

Mohima paused for a moment, then added, “Sure. But one needs to talk to her to find out what she thinks, right?”

“And if someone – say you – does indeed ask her, what do you think will she do? Will she be able to say no? Under the sheer weight of gratefulness, she will accept.”

“Wow! You have created a mountain so big in your head, Mukundo, that nobody can go past it. That will not do. Somebody has to talk. If not you–”

“You can’t talk to her, Ma.”

“I shouldn’t. You should.”

Mukundo had no option left, but to hastily promise, “Fine, I will. But don’t be after my life to do this. There has to be a suitable time and it may not be soon.”

“Fine!” Mohima acquiesced, although she didn’t look convinced.

—

Mukudno’s promise to Mohima was not sincere. It was made only to get her off his back. But what that conversation did make Mukundo realize was that Mohima didn’t think his feelings for Piyali were absurd or wrong. Was it possible, then, that it wasn’t indeed as absurd as he had thought it to be? Should he be okay with how he felt? But even if he came to terms with what he wanted, how was he to know what Piyali thought. Any other woman and he would have known how to flirt just enough to see her reaction, then perhaps ask her out on a date, then see how both of them felt about it and so on. That was not a path open to him in Piyali’s case. It was all or nothing. It was forever or never. And if it was to be never, even the slightest attempt to make it happen could break that fragile bond of friendship he had so recently established. So much to lose!

But he must do something, even if he didn’t know just then what it should be.

—

To be continued