Mish' Fiction

She didn’t cry when her father died. Barely had the rituals been over, when she came to him.

“I want to go somewhere else, Mukundo Babu. Will you arrange for that?”

“Where? Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Somewhere far…”

“Pihu…”

“Please Mukundo Babu.”

“Start going to the college Pihu. You have already lost a year.”

“Either you can send me, or I can run away.”

“Send you? I am not sending you anywhere. You tell me where you want to go. I will take you there.”

“No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“You can’t come with me.”

“You are not going anywhere…”

“You can’t stop me,” she was so determined that Mukundo knew she would act on her threat of running away. He couldn’t exactly have imprisoned her, could he?

“Pihu. I had promised Kaka to look after you,” he pleaded with her.

“And I had promised him not to be a burden on you.”

“You are not a burden on me, and if you want to do anything to make my life easier, take control of your life…”

“I didn’t run away, did I? I came to you, I asked you…”

“You need to stay here, Pihu. Who will look after your house, your property?”

“Who has done it since Baba had fallen ill? Even if I stayed, you are the one who would have to do it.”

“Why do you have to go away?”

“I don’t know,” she averted her eyes. “If you want, I won’t go away too far. Send me to Darjeeling.”

“If anything happened to you, Pihu…”

“I will come back to you before I destroyed myself. And no. Don’t worry. I won’t commit suicide.”

“Hanging yourself is not the only way to commit suicide. If you waste away your life…”

“Don’t stop me, Mukundo Babu.”

He gave up. “Fine. But I will come with you and ensure that you are comfortable before leaving you alone.”

“Okay.”

—

“After I am gone, and you have fewer things to worry about, you should get married Mukundo Babu.”

Mukundo glared at her. He had given in, and was making arrangements for her stay in Darjeeling. But he had made his displeasure known.

“Come on, Mukundo Babu. Don’t be angry at me. I need to go away…” her voice drowned.

“Do you feel anything? Anything at all? In that heart of yours? Do you know that there are people who care for you, who love you, and who feel hurt when you seem hell-bent upon destroying yourself?”

She did not reply, but surprised him by suddenly hugging him. Mukundo held her, and looked directly into her eyes. “Won’t you, ever, tell me what bothers you, Pihu?”

“If I will ever be able to articulate what does, who else will I tell that to, but you?”

“Don’t go away, Pihu.”

“I have to. And if you are lonely, you should get married.”

“I will get married, if you stayed back.”

She smiled, “What does my staying back has got to do with you getting married? Who will you marry?”

“You.”

She stood motionless for a moment. A blush almost crept up her face, but she camouflaged it behind a forced, amused chuckle, as she stepped away from her. “That’s a weird idea of a joke, Mukundo Babu. I need to go back home. I have to pack. We leave early morning, right?”

—

Mukundo settled her in Darjeeling and came back reluctantly. She didn’t stay there for long though. She wanted to travel more. She travelled all around the country. She always informed him, even gave him the addresses where she was staying. Initially Mukundo was suspicious. When she gave him a hotel’s address in Delhi, he landed there unannounced and was relieved to actually find her there.

“You don’t trust me Mukundo Babu?” she smiled at him.

“Do you blame me for it? What are you doing here anyway?”

“Nothing. Spending time in this nice hotel room.”

“We can travel together Pihu, if that is what you want to do.”

“I have dropped out of college, but you have your job.”

“I don’t need that job.”

“I can’t have you leave everything for me. I promise you I won’t commit suicide Mukundo Babu. And you will always know where I am. And if I die, I will die in your arms.” She had chuckled at her own joke, while Mukundo had not found it funny at all.

“Shut up, Piyali.”

She had kept her promise, always told him where she was, and they talked on phone regularly. Until one day she announced that she was going on some trek in Himalayas and her phone won’t be reachable for at least a month.

“A month?” Mukundo had been alarmed.

“Don’t worry, Mukundo Babu. There are others.”

—

Mukundo had been counting days. It had been over a month and she hadn’t called. She had been so terrified of him coming after her and stopping her that she hadn’t even told him where she was going. He had been pacing in his lawn one evening when he heard the familiar voice.

“Mukundo Babu.”

What he saw shocked him to the core.

“Pihu! What’s the matter? What has happened to you?”

“Don’t come near me, Mukundo Babu. You might fall ill too.” She coughed hard.

She was wrapped in a shawl and at least two layers of sweater. Still she looked thin like she was starving. What had happened to her full, rosy cheeks and big, beautiful eyes? This shrunken face couldn’t be that of Piyali, could it? But it was. . She was carrying nothing other than a large purse. He ignored her warning, went near her and hugged her. He took her inside and called up the doctor before saying even a word to her.

“Will you explain?” he spoke to her sternly.

“I will try,” she smiled weakly, “But I am really tired, Mukundo Babu. Won’t you let me sleep for a while?”

She looked so miserable that Mukundo had a tough time in controlling himself. He could have given into tears.

“Will you eat something?”

“No. I am just thirsty.”

He got her some juice and she slept off on the living room sofa itself.

“I am too tired, Mukundo Babu,” she said when he asked her to go to one of the rooms.

—

“I will do the tests, but I am sure it is tuberculosis,” the experienced doctor said as soon as he saw her.

“That can’t be too bad, right? Just medicines and rest…”

“I think so…” he said.

Mukundo woke Piyali up so that the doctor could take samples for testing. After that he helped her to the gues room so that she could rest.

Doctor had done the tests on a priority basis and soon the results were confirmed. It was tuberculosis. Treatment started immediately and the doctor was surprised that he had been called in so late.

“You had promised me that you would take care of yourself,” Mukundo complained to her.

“I had promised you that I’d die in your arms,” she smiled.

“You won’t talk to me like that.”

“Don’t be angry at me, Mukundo Babu.”

“How can I not be?”

“If your last words to me were angry before I died, you will…”

“Piyali!” he was getting angrier.

“The last thing I had ever told Ma was that I hated her. Because she wouldn’t let me go outside to play on a hot, summer afternoon. She was trying to protect me, but I had raised hell. She had said that I won’t realize how precious she was until she was dead. And then she died Mukundo Babu… She died…”

Mukundo stared at her in stunned silence. It was clear that her mother’s death had affected her deeply. But she had never talked about it in past. Mukundo had started suspecting that childhood memories had faded away for her, even though their impact had stayed.

But apparently they hadn’t. He went and sat beside her. Tears were now flowing freely from her eyes. “She didn’t realize that I loved her, Mukundo Babu. I should never have said that. She left me…”

Mukundo remember her plea to her father in her drunken state. “I do love you Baba. Don’t leave me…”

Is this what had been plaguing her all these years? That self-loathing, that darkness…

It took him sometime to find his voice. “It was an accident Pihu. It was an accident…”

But she continued crying and he realized that the pain was too deep-seated to be relieved with logic.

“I hurt Baba a lot,” she spoke through her tears and sobs, “I didn’t know how to face him. He loved her so much and she died.”

Mukundo held her hand, but despite a strong urge to do so, did not try to stop or console her. Finally she was talking! He needed to hear it all out.

“Kakima had asked him to get married again,” she referred to Mukundo’s mother who was alive at that time. “He had refused. I didn’t know how to face him and I hurt him so much.”

No psychiatrist, no friends, no well-wisher had been able to figure out in all these years what was eating her up. Because of crying, her nose was clogging. He helped her sit up and gave her some water to drink. Then he sat down beside her and put his arms around her, pulling her close.

“Why did you never talk to me, Pihu?” he asked after a while.

She did not reply and slept off in his arms.

—

Mukundo was grim-faced as he came to her room.

“The antibiotics are not working Mr. Thakur,” the doctor had informed him, “A new incurable strain of TB has been reported recently. I am afraid…”

“Don’t look so sad, Mukundo Babu,” she said.

He forced a smile. “I’m not sad.”

“Don’t be, even after I am gone.”

“Where are you going? I am not letting you go anywhere even if I have to imprison you this time.”

“When have you succeeded in stopping me from doing what I wanted to do?”

He could not force his smile any longer. “You like torturing me, don’t you?” he said, his eyes moistening.

“I do love you, Mukundo Babu. I never said that, but I do. I have always loved you. And loved you in ways that knows no name, no limit. But those whom I love are cursed. My going away with save you from that curse.”

“Shut up. Just shut up,” he broke down.

“In this birth, Mukundo Babu, I was a lost, restless soul. I wasted my life. And troubled you so much. But I will do better in next birth. I promise.” He hugged her tight and cried his heart out.

—

“Mukundo Babu. I have given you nothing while I lived except troubles, tears and pain. I did not even help you in things that mattered to you. I cannot give you anything even in my death that you don’t already have. So, I am leaving whatever Baba left me for those who matter to you. Half of my inheritance in my will is left for Hope Foundation. I never contributed in person. It might make up a bit for that. The other half is left in your name. Gift it to your kids from their insane aunt. Do get married, Mukundo Babu.

Despite everything, I am presumptuous enough to think that you would value this reiteration – that I have loved you. Always. Deeply. More than I would have had the ability to express even if I wasn’t so broken.

Your life-long bother
A lost soul
Pihu”

Sonelal found Mukundo sleeping at his bedroom door, just like Piyali had done all those months ago, with the letter clutched to his heart. He wondered if he should wake him up. He decided against it. It was after several days that Mukundo had fallen asleep. Uncomfortable as his position was, some sleep would do him good.

He woke up in the wee hours of morning and paced up and down the living room, lost in thoughts. Later in the day he made a call to his lawyer.

“Yes. We need to register an orphanage and women’s shelter. What she has left to me should go to this organization,” he spoke on phone.

He unfolded the letter once again after disconnecting the call. “You think only you can do things your way. If I wasn’t stubborn, I couldn’t have loved you so much, Pihu. If you will come to me only in next birth, then I will marry only in next birth.” He took out a pair of ear-rings from his pocket and as he kissed them tears flooded his eyes again.

– The End –

After a fitful sleep of few hours, he gave up by five in the morning. There would be no point in going to her for riyaaz that day. He went to the attached bathroom to wash up; then came out of his room to the strange sight of Piyali sleeping at his bedroom’s door. She was sprawled on the floor with her back resting against the wall.

“What the…” Mukundo was exasperated. He looked for Sonelal, his housekpeer.

“When did she come?” he tried not to shout to avoid waking her up.

“About an hour back. I was still sleeping.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Didi won’t let me.”

“Then she should have waited in the guest room or living room…”

“I told her Dada, begged her to… She wouldn’t listen. She walked aimlessly around the house for a while and when I next saw her she was sleeping here. I didn’t know what to do.”

Mukundo shook his head in disbelief and went to her.

“Pihu. Get up Pihu. Sleep in a bed…”

She opened her eyes with difficulty. He helped her get up and put her to sleep in his own bed. Then he sent Sonelal to her house to inform Promila, before going back in the room.

—

He was sitting in a rocking chair sipping tea and reading newspaper when she woke up.

“Good morning,” she said in a small voice while rubbing her eyes.

“What is good about this morning, Piyali?”

He was angry! He wasn’t calling her Pihu. She gulped and stayed silent.

“Why did you come here at that unearthly hour?”

“I thought you wouldn’t come to me in the morning. That’s why…” she gave an explanation which would have been absurd, if it weren’t she who was giving it, and if it wasn’t Mukundo who was listening to it.

“Why should I have come? Were you in any position to even wake up, much less do riyaaz.”

“If I stopped singing, you would never come to me?”

He sighed, “I am very angry at your Piyali. And you can’t distract me from that. You were drunk last night.”

The memories and the mortification of last night returned to her.

“Do you understand,” he got up from the chair and stood close to her near the bed, “That you are not a little girl anymore. You are a grown woman and people can take advantage of you.”

“Are you listening to me?” he roared and she jerked in fear. This kind of anger from him was a first.

“Mukundo Babu…” she was incredulous.

“I feel like slapping you. Hard. But if Kaka doesn’t do it, what right do I have?” he was still thundering.

“I. Am. Sorry,” she said in a low, but clear voice.

It had an immediate effect on Mukundo. She didn’t apologize; not often. She must have gotten his point. His anger cooled off.

“Go home and apologize to Kaka.”

She nodded and got down from bed.

“Wash you face before leaving,” he reminded her.

She nodded like an obedient child and went to his bathroom.

He remembered something else just as she was leaving.

“Pihu!”

She turned to face him expecting to be admonished further.

“Last night you said something weird. You told Kaka to not leave you, to not… Why?”

Her face lost whatever colour there was left.

“Why Pihu?” he asked again, firmly, but gently.

“He. Has. Cancer.” She replied slowly, measuring her words, as if scared of uttering them.

Mukundo wasn’t as shocked as he should have been. Her knowing this could have been the only explanation of what she had said. “How do you know?” he asked in a concerned, soft voice.

“You knew?” she asked in return.

He didn’t reply.

“Of course, you did,” she said sadly, “That’s where you have been taking him recently, haven’t you? To see the doctor.”

“Who told you?”

“Nobody. I saw the report.”

How? She hardly stepped into her father’s room, except when needed. And the report was safely tucked away in the cupboard. But he did not ask. Interrogating her would not be a comfort to her.

Silent tears started falling from her eyes.

“Come here,” he mumbled as he drew her in his embrace, “Stop worrying. He is going to live for many, many years. And then, I am there for you, am I not? You have nothing to fear, Pihu. Nothing at all. Stop crying.”

She looked flushed as she withdrew from the hug.

“I will go home.”

“Shall I drop you?”

“No. I am fine.”

“Tell Promila that I will have breakfast there with you and Kaka. Okay?”

She nodded and left.

Mukundo noticed her ear-rings  in the bathroom before leaving for her home. He put them in his kurta’s pocket with the intention of giving those back to her.

—

When Mukundo walked in, he noticed that Piyali had already taken a bath. She was sitting at the dining table wearing a light blue salwar-kameez, her long, washed hair wetting her back. She was serving something on three plates, presumably one each for herself, her father and Mukundo. He stared at her silently for a few moments. Things had changed. They had changed a lot. What he had told her that morning was true. She was a grown up woman now. And he had become acutely aware of that when she had turned to him dancing like that… He felt for her ear-rings in his pocket, meaning to take them out. Then he decided against it and kept them back. He took a deep breath before making his way near her.

“Shall I call Kaka?” he asked.

“Hmm,” she nodded without looking at him.

There was an awkward tension at the dining table as all of them picked at their food. Mukundo had already informed Mr. Banerjee that Piyali knew about his condition.

“Pihu,” Mr. Banerjee decided to break the ice.

“Don’t talk about last night Baba,” she preempted him.

“I am not scolding you, Shona…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” there was an edge in her voice. Mukundo looked at her disappointedly. She felt his eyes on her and said in a subdued voice, “I am sorry. About everything.”

Mr. Banerjee sighed, “You need to get yourself together, child. You already know about my condition. What do you plan to do? Be a burden on Mukundo all your life?”

She looked up startled; then said slowly, “No. No. I won’t do that.”

—

Debendra Banerjee’s health deteriorated faster than Mukundo had expected. Piyali spent a lot of time by her bedside; still not talking much. When she was not around him, she was often in horrible mood, screaming at slightest of the problems, running out of the house for hours, and she had practically stopped attending college. When Mukundo sat with her, and tried to make her talk, she would cry for hours. She would even be calm around him, but he had his job and other work to manage as well.

“Where are you going?” she came to his house once to find his getting ready to step out.

“For some work. Do you need me?”

“For Hope Foundation’s work?” she asked about his NGO.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

He hesitated before answering, “Sonagachi.” It was the biggest red light district of the city.

“Take me with you.”

“No. Not there.”

She laughed, almost bitterly, “I couldn’t be at risk there, Mukundo Babu. With so many willing women…”

“Shut up,” he didn’t like how she talked. And it wasn’t the men frequenting that place that he was worried about. He was worried about her. What if it gave her ideas… He shivered at the thought… He hated not being able to trust her with her well-being. But what was the option? She came to him to seek peace. She let him see the best and worst of her.And yet – even he didn’t know the source of that self-destructive darkness within her, which engulfed all the brightness of her mind and heart.

“You work with women there. I can be helpful…”

“When you grow up to be a responsible woman, I will take you there. For now, if you want to help, come to the school tomorrow.”

She didn’t come to the school. She was not at home at all at that time.

He found her by Mr. Banerjee’s bed one morning. She was awake the entire night, as her bloodshot eyes revealed.

“What are you doing?” he had dragged her out, “You have to stay well.”

“He was in lot of pain.”

“You can’t relieve his pain by torturing yourself.”

“You are right, as usual,” she said and walked off to her room, hopefully to sleep. Although that meant she won’t go to college again that day.

—

To be continued

She talked so little to her father. Once in a while when she did, it was often in the form of shouting or quarreling for no reason. It made him an unhappy man, and it broke Mukundo’s heart too. After his wife’s death, he had been living solely for his daughter. His helplessness and pain were evident to everyone.

And yet – it was not possible to dismiss her as an insensitive soul. It was the same girl who would spend the entire night by her father’s bedside if he fell ill. One person she did defer to was Mukundo, although she fought with him. There was an inexplicable pain he saw her dealing with about which nobody was able to do anything. It manifested sometimes in her self-loathing and at others in her hatred and distrust of the entire world. But he had never seen her articulate it as well as during their Gourinagar trip. It was a village of displaced farmers, who were still waiting for their compensation, pitiable as it was going to be. Mukundo ran an NGO, which, among other people, worked with these farmers too.

“What is the point of living, of life, Mukundo Babu?” she asked as they made their way back to their little hut-dwelling one evening.

He got alarmed, but realized that she looked thoughtful, not suicidal. “Everybody finds their own reason, Pihu.”

“What is your reason? Why do you live?”

“I live for the beauty that is there in the world… I live to be able to create something. Creation is powerful… I live for people…”

“For people like these… Here in this village…”

“Them too, yes.”

“And what is the point? They still whine and curse their luck.”

“They are poor, displaced farmers, who are struggling to stay alive. What do you expect from them? Just because we mean well, things don’t get well for them.”

“How would it matter if they died?”

“Because they are poor?”

“No. How would it matter if even we died?”

“Life is a precious thing. It is our duty to preserve it. That is why God has given us the instinct to preserve it. Why are you talking like this?”

She jerked out of her thoughts on realizing what he might be thinking. She smiled at him sadly, “No. Don’t worry Mukundo Babu. I might not be sane, but I am not suicidal either. I am too much of coward to commit suicide.”

“Committing suicide is cowardice, Pihu. Staying alive is not.”

“Nah! That’s just philosophical nonsense. I will never commit suicide, because I am too afraid of pain. The physical pain that would invariably precede death. Would you be able to cook some fish tonight, Mukundo Babu? I am tired of eating dal and vegetables every day.”

“Let’s take a detour to the market to see if some fish is available.”

At the end of the trip, he had asked her, “Will you come again?”

“I don’t know. Probably no. Why?”

“I can use your help, Pihu, in my work. Here. Or even back in Kolkata.”

She had chuckled, “So that I have something to keep me occupied? And I don’t go around acting insane? No Mukundo Babu. That would be a very selfish reason to impose myself on the poor, unhappy people you are trying to help. I won’t work with you.”

“Previous semester’s results will be declared tomorrow,” he had changed the subject, “I hope you hadn’t left your answer sheets blank in the exam.”

“No,” she had said matter-of-factly, as if there was nothing amusing or extra-ordinary about the question.

—

“Where is she, Mukundo?” Mr. Banerjee called him at eleven at night.

“I will go and bring her back,” he replied.

“Why don’t you tell me where you find her? You don’t have to do all the running around yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me, Kaka. I am fine. You please take rest. Go to sleep. It’s so late…”

“How can I, Mukundo? How can I?”

“I’m leaving right away.”

He knew where she would be. The jamming place, which was more about drugs and drinks than music. He had found her there several times earlier too. And she would just go completely silent if he tried to admonish her, or make her talk about what took her there.

“Are you taking drugs?” he had asked.

She had shaken her head on that – the only reply he ever got.

Mukundo felt nauseous as he entered the place amidst loud and erratic cacophony of musical instruments. How could Piyali stand this? Piyali – with such a soulful voice and such natural grasp of the all that was beautiful, serene, soothing about music. His Piyali! He looked around anxiously for her and was shocked. Earlier she would usually be lying in a corner by herself, quiet. Today the sight of her would have put the scenes from hippie movies to shame. Why was she dancing like that? He walked as fast as he could through the maddening crowd to reach to her group. She suddenly turned with her chest thrust out swaying wildly to the tune of some song Mukundo did not recognize. He didn’t want to think of the word lewd, but what else was it? She froze as she saw him. It was as if suddenly someone had jolted her out of an alternate world and brought her back to the reality. The expressions of shame and guilt washed over her face as she withdrew. Mukundo must have looked very angry, because by the end of it she looked terrified and she ran out. He could not follow her as swiftly, but when he did catch up with her, she was waiting near his car looking dull and depressed. Thankfully she hadn’t run off. He opened the passenger door and she went in meekly. He drove silently, acutely aware of the smell of alcohol coming from her. She fell asleep by the time they reach home.

“Mukundo Babu,” she looked at him and giggled, as he woke her up and helped her out of the car. The alcohol and sleep seemed to have erased the memory of her earlier mortification. “I knew you would come. I had no money to come home.”

“Why didn’t you have money?”

“I gave it all away.” Mukundo believed her. She was capable of doing that.

“Why didn’t you take the car?”

“I hate that car.”

Despite feeling a strong urge to give her a piece of mind, Mukundo knew that she was in no condition to listen or understand. As he supported her wobbling form through the short walk to the door, he hoped that Promila, and not Mr. Banerjee, would open the door.  But his hopes were quashed.

“Piyali!” the alcohol was impossible to miss.

Mukundo silently continued taking her to her room, when she spoke to both their surprise.

“Baba. Baba – I do love you Baba.”

What was up with sudden proclamation of love!

“Don’t leave me Baba. Please don’t die…” And she passed out again.

Mukundo and Mr. Banerjee stared at each other wide-eyed for a moment. Then Mukundo proceeded to take her to her bedroom. He made her lie down on the bed, took off her sandles and tucked her in. He stared at her innocent face for a moment before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

“Go to sleep, Kaka,” he preempted Mr. Banerjee’s attempts to talk, “She is safe. We will talk tomorrow.”

He himself was more anxious than usual that day.

—

To be continued

“What happened, Kaka?” Mukundo ran into Banerjee household after having received a call form Debendra Banerjee that he was needed there. He had just returned from university.

“Another one of her episodes Mukundo. She hasn’t eaten anything since last evening. No dinner. Didn’t have breakfast, or lunch today. She won’t even come out of her room…”

“Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

Debendra Banerjee threw up his hands with a guilty and resigned look. Mukundo understood that. Mr. Banerjee just didn’t know what to do about his daughter. Ever since she had lost her mother as an eight-year-old, things had gone haywire. She would alternate between being violently aggressive and alarmingly dull. Sometimes she would work hard for a month before exams and do very well. At other times, she would leave her answer paper empty. Sometimes she listened to her father, and at other times shouted at him and left home in a huff. Mukundo was usually her ultimate cure, but Mr. Banerjee felt very guilty about disturbing him all the time for Piyali. The two families were very close. Right from the time of Mukundo and Piyali’s grandfathers. Mukundo’s deceased father and Mr. Banerjee were childhood friends.

“I told you to leave me alone,” Piyali screamed wildly when Mukundo knocked at her door.

“Open the door, Pihu. It’s me.” He waited in silence. She opened the door after half a minute or so, then walked away from him to stand near the window. He shut the door before going after her.

“What has happened?” he asked gently.

“Nothing.”

“Sane people don’t stop eating and start locking themselves up their rooms because of nothing.”

“Who told you I am sane?”

“Insane people have their reasons too; even if those are twisted.”

She appeared to be seething in anger, but stood tight-lipped.

“Is it something I did?” he asked patiently.

“Why did you stop me from eating yesterday?”

“Stop you from eating? When?”

“In the evening.  At the mall.”

“You were having ice-cream.”

“So what?”

“You know you are prone to cold. And it will spoil your voice.”

“So what if it does. What will the world lose?”

“I don’t know about the world, but I don’t want to lose this sweet voice. You know how much I like hearing you sing…”

“You never come for riyaaz with me anyway…”

“I had to grade papers Pihu. Had a deadline to meet.”

“And Gourinagar to go to… And so many other things to do…”

“Okay. Listen to me,” he smiled indulgently, held her by her upper arms and turned her around to face him, “I have submitted the grades today. It is winter holidays and I won’t go to Gourinagar for at least a week. Okay? I am here for you. Now come out and eat. You have brought the entire world on its knees.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Enough. Come out now,” he said gently, and took her hand. Even though she did not look reconciled, she followed his lead. She did not meet either her father’s or the fussing housekeeper’s in eyes as she sat down at the table. Still looking cross, she ate whatever was put on the plate before her, while Mukundo sat beside her.

—

“Why do you hesitate so much Kaka? You should have called me last night itself,” Mukundo was talking to Mr. Banerjee later in the evening.

“What will happen to this girl, Mukundo? What is wrong with her?”

“Nothing is wrong with her, Kaka. We have already taken her to every psychiatrist and all kinds of doctors in town.”

“And yet, she can’t be trusted to be on her own, can she? And after me…” his voice drowned.

“After you? Why are you talking like that…” Mukundo did not continue as Mr. Banerjee was not listening to him. He had gotten up absent-mindedly and was walking towards the cupboard of his room. He took out a paper and handed it to Mukundo.

Puzzled, Mukundo opened it to get the shock of his life. “Cancer?” he asked tentatively, hoping against hope that he had read the report wrong.

“Bone cancer,” Mr. Banerjee confirmed, “Third stage. Difficult locations. Won’t be cured.”

“When did you…”

“Last week… I didn’t pay attention to the pain earlier, thinking it was age… I have been careless.”

“Kaka. Surely there is something…”

“Mukundo, my son,” he stopped him, “I am not worried about myself.  Sooner or later, I have to go. I had just hoped that this girl will be a bit more stable by then, as the doctors had assured. That she would settle down as she grew up. But there are no signs…”

“She is eighteen Kaka… It’s not exactly the age when people stabilize…”

“I know…” Mr. Banerjee closed his eyes, as if trying to hide the helplessness they will betray.

“Two things, Kaka,” Mukundo spoke, “Firstly, I don’t believe that we have to give up on your health. There are so many treatments available these days…. Secondly, whatever happens, you can trust Piyali to me…”

“That is what I have done all these years too, Mukundo. She has hardly been my cup of tea. But she is not the only one I am worried about. You too… Your parents would have expected me to ensure that you settle down, but…”

“You have tried, Kaka,” Mukundo smiled, “But you know where I stand on that. I have no interest in getting married.”

“Life is long Mukundo…”

“We’ll see. Right now, you must calm yourself down and stop worrying. Piyali would be in my care. Always. And take me to the doctor on your next appointment. When is it?”

“This Sunday.”

“Okay Kaka. And don’t say anything to Piyali yet. Leave that to me.”

Mr. Banerjee nodded.

—

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Mukundo woke Piyali up next morning at 6.00.

“Mukundo Babu. What are you doing here? At this time?”

“Somebody was complaining yesterday that I don’t accompany her for riyaaz. Whatever happened to that! Wash your face and come quickly. I will be in the music room.”

Debendra Banerjee looked on quietly as Piyali practiced a long aalaap, before the mukhda at whose sam Mukundo expertly started playing tabla to accompany her. She looked so serene, so calm, so much in control. Why could she not be like this otherwise?

Mukundo noticed him after a while and was about to interrupt the riyaaz when Mr. Banerjee indicated silently to him to go on and not bother about him. He left the room after a while.

“You will be all right today?” he asked after they finished the riyaaz. She nodded.

“What bothers you so much, Pihu?”

“Nothing. Why should anything bother me? Nothing bothers me.”

“Something does.  Every once in a while.”

“If I trouble you too much, you can just say so,” she grew cross.

He sighed, “No. You don’t trouble me. That is not what I meant.”

“Will you take me to Gourinagar with you this time?”

“You want to come?”

“Yes.”

“But it isn’t a comfortable place. There aren’t even any decent hotels to stay in…”

“If it is good enough for you, it is good enough for me.”

“Fine. Ask for Kaka’s permission.”

“He won’t stop me. It’s winter holidays anyway.”

“Still. Ask for his permission.”

—

To be continued