Soul-mate (Part 5)

Posted 2 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

Mukundo sprang out of the sofa as he heard the news. Alka was in the kitchen making tea, while he was watching TV in her living room.

“Alka!”

“What happened?” she came out on hearing his panicked cry.

“There has been a landslide near Darjeeling.”

“Ohh!” she understood his alarm. Piyali had gone to Darjeeling on a college trip.

“I am leaving,” he announced.

“Where for?”

“Darjeeling.”

“What? Wait. Do we even know the details…”

But he did not wait and almost ran out of her apartment. She turned her attention towards the news report being telecasted. She called him after half an hour.

“They are repeatedly saying that there are no casualties, Mukundo. In a day or two, the road route will be reconnected and everyone will be back.”

“I can’t reach her on phone.”

“That is always the case when something like this happens. I am sure she is fine.”

“I will talk to you later. I have to catch a flight in an hour.”

“Flight? To?”

“Bagdogra.”

“From there you still have to take a road. And the road is blocked, Mukundo.”

“I can’t just sit here. Bye.”

Mukundo found a hotel as close to the blockage as possible and practically stayed parked exactly where the road was blocked. They didn’t let anyone pass through that day. They will still clearing and repairing the road. It was dangerous. Early next morning, pedestrians were allowed. The place was still too far from Darjeeling. So, it was useful only for those who stayed nearby and were stranded away from home. But Mukundo left his rented vehicle at the hotel and walked on with as much cash as he could carry. He hitchhiked, took lifts or paid for transportation by any means possible, without bothering about his security. On reaching Darjeeling, he headed straight to the hotel where he knew her group was staying.

“Mukundo Babu!” Piyali was surprised beyond imagination, “How did you reach here? And so soon?”

He surprised her even further, when instead of replying, he went ahead and hugged her. “Thank God, you are safe.”

“Yes. I am fine. Calm down,” she could feel how anxious he was. What else could inspire someone to reach there in such a short time and under such impossible circumstances?

“Your phone was unreachable.”

“Everybody’s is. Even hotel landline was not working. Else I would have informed you. I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Not your fault,” he was finally relaxing.

“How did you come? They said blockage was still there.”

“You will find out as we go back. We will leave immediately. I don’t want to risk staying for another landslide. Pack up. Meanwhile I will find a taxi that can take us till the blockage.”

They took a taxi till the blockage, crossed it on feet, picked up his rented vehicle from the hotel on the other side, drove to Bagdogra and took the first flight back to Kolkata. He toyed with the divorce papers again at the night.

Soon! He decided yet again.

“She worships you, Mukundo,” Alka told him.

“And I am not a God.”

“Right. But my guess is that if it came to that, you would protect her with your life.”

“That’s your reading of my impulsive nature. Yes – I am like that.”

“Mukundo. I am serious. It is not unthinkable, you know. You and her…”

“What the hell! Has Mahendra corrupted your mind or something? Yes – she worships me. She is so grateful to me that… that if I ask her to go back to the same hell where she came from, she would do even that. For my sake. But it doesn’t mean that she and I… Even if everything else can be kept aside, our age-gap is too big Alka. It doesn’t make sense. And the reason I had brought her here was so that she can have a dignified life. She should be able to make her own choices in life. That marriage was not her choice.”

“Do you know what she told the neighbor who questioned her about your relationship…”

“Why is anyone questioning her about our relationship? If anyone is, I’d take care of it.”

Alka sighed. He was in no mood to listen. “All right. Forget it. Why am I wasting the little time that we have. With these exams and all…” She tried to kiss him, but he stopped her.

“Not now, Alka. I am not in mood. I am going home.” He got up from the bed abruptly and left.

Alka was not surprised. The psychologist was not able to see for himself that he was in denial! He had been distant for a while now. And as someone who had grown to know him intimately, she knew the reason very well. That fool was in love with his wife, and not able to accept it. And with a wife, who would lay her life if he gave the least indication that that’s what he wanted! He didn’t realize how much of his time and life revolved around her and how much he talked about her. How obsessively he tried to know about her small, little needs and fulfill them! How were her studies going? Did she manage to buy all her books? Was her library subscription expiring? How would she go to college? Could Alka check with her if she needed to go shopping? He didn’t know what she liked to eat and she never told him anything. Did their TV subscription have all the channels she wanted to watch? Was she finally able to make friends in college? Was she making the right kind of friends? And now, was she being troubled by the neighbors?

For the last one, Alka would have some explanation to do before Piyali when she met her next.

“You have been having trouble with neighbors?” She was back from college, when he reached home. And he lost no time in questioning her.

“Trouble? What trouble?”

“Someone asked you something? About me, about us?”

Piyali was surprised; and felt betrayed. Why would Alka go and tell him about it? It was an unspoken understanding between them that they didn’t talk about Mukundo and whatever was discussed between them didn’t reach him.

She decided to tell him that. “That was a long time ago, Mukundo Babu. And nothing happened that you should be angry about. I didn’t say anything…”

“What did you say?”

She fell silent.

“I am asking you something. What did you say?” he was annoyed.

“Why are you being so insistent?” she asked gently, and somewhat nervously.

“Why? Because I have brought you here. Nobody has a right to question that. And if you are facing a problem, I should know. I expect you to tell me.”

“There is no problem, Mukundo Babu. It was a long time ago and I gave her a reply that silenced her forever.”

“What did you say?” he repeated his earlier question.

She gulped and averted her eyes. She spoke slowly, weighing each word, “I told her that you were like The One after whom you were named. Lord Krishna. He married sixteen thousand queens, to save them from society’s cruel insinuations. That didn’t make his character questionable. Rather it made him the God. Unless she thought she was great enough to question Lord Krishna’s character, she had no right of questioning yours.”

Mukundo stared at her in astonishment. Two conflicting feelings were clamoring for his acceptance. The first one didn’t like this entire “marrying women to save them from society” idea. It was so utterly regressive and it established women as someone who could not have an identity separate from men. He hoped that Piyali did not believe that. But the second feeling was that of… It took him a few moments to identify it. It was a feeling of pride. She had silenced the woman in the best possible way. A comeback that she would have had no answer to!

“I know you find the idea regressive,” Piyali started explaining after a pause, because she was worried about his reaction, “And I agree with you. It was just…”

“It was a witty answer,” he interrupted with a smile to assure her, “Well done!”

Piyali thought her heart would literally swell with pride. He appreciated her!

“And you are right. I find the idea too regressive. I acted on it amongst people who were regressive. But you shouldn’t try to live your life with those standards. I am no Lord Krishna and…”

“I know. You want me to become independent. I want so too. And I will do it.”

“Good!”

To be continued

Soul-mate (Part 4)

Posted 1 CommentPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

Mukundo gave her generous amounts of pocket money. “What will I do with it?” she would often protest.

“Save it, if you can’t spend it. But if you need something, you shouldn’t have to wait for me.”

Alka took her to shopping malls and theaters. They often went to book stores. It was in one of the trips to bookstores that she stumbled upon one of the Mills & Boons stories. After that she went to the bookstore on her own too and bought dozens of them with her pocket money. While Alka was introducing her to English literature and she was thoroughly enjoying the process, she also felt a thrill in using her newly learned language skills to read those steamy romances. Each of them was her own story. She had a knight in shining armor in Mukundo. He had rescued the damsel in distress. And she loved him with her heart and soul, even if he did not understand it. The only thing missing in her story was that… there was none of that irresistible sexual attraction. Not on his part anyway. The kind that brought those Mills & Boons heroes back to the heroines, despite all the misunderstandings and outward hatred. ‘That is unrealistic,’ she would remind herself time and again. She would think of Alka. So beautiful, intelligent, educated, classy, mature. His equal. She stood no chance.

And yet sometimes, she dreamt…

Mukundo was surprised. He had come back at his usual time, but Piyali was not in the hall. Usually she waited for him there with tea and snacks. He asked Sonelal about her. She was in the TV room. He went there. The door was open. Piyali was sitting on the sofa with her legs perched up. Her hands were around her knees, while her chin rested between them. She was deeply engrossed in whatever was being telecast on TV.  Curious, his eyes darted towards the television screen. There was a romantic Hindi song in the background and an intimate scene between a young couple was on. He looked back at Piyali. She was as good as hypnotized. He smiled patronizingly and shook his head. She WAS a kid! Trying to grow up.

He went to freshen up and came back to the hall for tea. She had also reached there by then.

“I didn’t realize when you came in,” she said with some embarrassment.

“You were engrossed in TV.”

She flushed, “I watch that show. I had missed last night. So, I was watching the repeat telecast.”

“Hmm…” He didn’t say anything. But he knew that she had gone to watch TV last night at her usual time. She hadn’t missed the episode. She was watching it again!

That night he thought about her for a long time. How glued she was to the TV that evening. It was obvious why she was watching the repeat telecast. The scene on the show had caught her fancy. A perfectly natural thing to happen at her age. There was only one glitch. Her life had been anything but natural. Her studies were keeping her occupied, but sooner or later she would be done with it. She should live a normal life after that. That would mean a job, a home, and… marriage. But she was legally wedded to him. So, she’d have to be legally divorced. But when should he do it? It wasn’t needed right now. Plus if he dissolved the marriage right now, her staying in his house would unnecessarily become scandalous. In good time, he thought. No sexual relationship and “incompatibility” should be good enough reasons to get a divorce quickly by mutual consent. But he made a mental note to check with a lawyer and have the papers ready well in advance.

In three years, she completed her 10th and 12th exams from National Open School. Her progress was incredibly fast.

She blushed hard when he congratulated her for that. “What do I have to do the entire day except study? It is hardly an achievement.”

“It is a big feat, Piyali. You should be proud of yourself.”

She would have liked to ask if he was proud of her. But she couldn’t.

“You have scored good marks. If you want, you could join a regular college for under-graduation.”

“Can I?”

“Why not?”

“I would be older than everyone there.”

“Not so much. And how does it matter? There is no age for getting educated. School admission would have been difficult. So, open school was better. And you made the best use of it. By finishing everything so quickly. There is no reason you should miss out on college experience.”

She smiled gratefully and nodded.

“What do you want to study?”

“English literature. And psychology,” she said with slight hesitation.

“Good,” he said. He didn’t notice that she had chosen his and Alka’s subjects. At least he didn’t comment on it.

The next day he got the divorce papers prepared. At right time, he would discuss it with her. It would be awkward. But everything about their relationship was awkward. That they continued to live their life comfortably together was the surprising part.

Mukundo gasped as he looked up. He was waiting for Piyali at the breakfast table. After that they were to go to buy books for her first year college syllabus. And she walked in! Piyali stopped in her tracks for a while as she saw him staring. He recovered and averted his eyes. He must have unsettled her. But he was himself so unsettled. What was it today that made her look so different? And hot, he had to admit for want of a less suggestive word. Then he looked up again, with a more normal expression in his eyes. In the meantime, she had reached the table.

“Alka didi gifted it to me,” she explained her dress. It was nothing extra-ordinary. A simple pink, cotton salwaar kameez. But he had always seen her in sarees and it stood out. “She said nobody wears sarees in colleges these days.”

“She is right,” Mukundo had found his bearings back, “And it suits you. You look unnecessarily old in sarees.”

“Do you like it?”

Mukundo hesitated for a moment. Was she asking for his permission? Probably just approval. He should stop over-analyzing her behavior all the time. “Yes,” he said and she was satisfied.

“You will need more of these if you have to wear them to college,” he said as they ate the breakfast. They used cutlery at the table now. Alka had taught her how to use them.

“I have four. Should be enough.”

“Let’s buy some more after we have finished with book purchases. Today I am not going to the university anyway,” he said.

It was a decision, not a suggestion. He didn’t do that very often. So, she didn’t even try to object.

He toyed with the divorce papers as he sat sprawled on his bed that night. He had decided to talk about it to her that day. But he couldn’t. What went wrong? Was what he had felt at the breakfast table the reason? What had he felt anyway? Nothing. He was over-thinking it. It was just awkward talking about divorce. It was natural to be unwilling to go through it. But he wasn’t running out of time. He’d do it. Sometime soon.

To be continued

Soul-mate (Part 3)

Posted 3 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“What are these, Mukundo Babu?” Piyali was surprised when he tried to hand her several shopping bags that evening.

“Some sarees for you.”

“Oh! But I don’t need them. I already have…”

“Yeah. About them. Please stop wearing white. You are too young for that.”

She was startled. Then she looked away. Mukundo suspected that her eyes were getting moist. She took the bags from him without saying anything or meeting his eyes. Mukundo decided to leave her alone and made to go away. But she stopped him.

“Mukundo Babu,” she called him, “I wanted to ask you for something.”This act of him giving her sarees seemed to have introduced some familiarity between them and she had found the courage to talk to him.

“Tell me.”

“I have nothing to do here all day. You have so many servants. You don’t need them. I can do the housework.”

His smiled, “Let’s talk at the dinner table.”

Fish was served for the first time since their return form Uttarpara. Piyali, wearing one of her new sarees, a pale blue one, eyed the dish curiously. He scooped some out in a bowl, but instead of taking it himself, he passed it to her. “You like fish, don’t you?”

Her lips quivered. “I have forgotten what it tastes like.”

“Take it, then. It tastes good.”

She looked hesitant.

“Eat it Piyali. There is nothing wrong, nothing to worry about.”

Her hands were trembling as she mixed some curry with her rice and took the first bite.

“Is it good?”

She smiled nervously and nodded in reply.

“Great. Let me take some too.”

“So, are you settled in? Comfortable here?” he asked when they were almost done with dinner.

“Yes, I am,” she replied in a low, but sure voice.

“Don’t mind my questions. I just want to know about you. Have you gone to school?”

“Long back. Till class fifth.”

“So, you can read and write? Bengali?”

She nodded.

“English?”

“A bit.”

“Hmm…”

“I am not educated…” she said in a nervous, self-reproaching tone.

“But you can be.”

“How? It’s too late…”

“No, it isn’t. If you have the will… Do you want to study?”

“I… I don’t know,” she stuttered, “Should I?”

He sighed, “I’d prefer if you decide for yourself. But until you start doing that, yes. I think you should.”

“I can’t go to school now.”

“There are other ways. There are open schools, where you can give exams. And we can have a tutor for you.”

“Tutor? That would be too expensive.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

She looked down and played with her food as she spoke slowly, “I’d like to study. I like reading. Back in Uttarpara, I often picked up books and magazines when no one was around and read them.”

Mukundo was pleasantly surprised, “You did? What did you used to read?”

She told him the names of some novels by Tagore and Sarat Chandra and some Bengali magazines.

“That’s impressive.”

She blushed.

He took her to his library after dinner. “Those shelves all have Bengali books. You can read whatever you want.”

She stared wide-eyed at the library. “There are so many books here.”

He laughed, “You are at a professor’s house. That is the least you should expect.”

“Right,” she mumbled absent-mindedly still trying to get used to the idea of having so many books at one place.

“I hope you won’t get bored now?”

She smiled nervously, “No.”

“Great. I will leave you with the books then, until you feel sleepy. We will soon find good tutors for you and then you will have your hands full with studies.”

“Mukundo Babu,” she stopped him.

“Yes?”

“How will I ever pay you back for this?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment; then spoke in a deep, profound voice, “I did what I did with you because I believe that nobody, no human being should be robbed of his or her basic dignity. Even if one gets used to being trampled around, like you probably had, it doesn’t make it right. So, despite knowing that it would upset your life the way you had known it all these years, despite knowing that it may not be comfortable, and despite knowing that even if you disagreed you won’t be able to voice your disagreement, I took the risk and brought you away from there; because, to me, maintaining the dignity of individuals is society’s responsibility. So, I poked my nose in what shouldn’t have been my affair. If you think that I did the right thing, then you have to prove me right. Study well, become independent, take control of your life, your dreams, and most importantly, become a person who nobody can take for granted, who would not let anybody walk over her, ever.”

Piyali felt something inexplicable, something that made her entire being tremble. She couldn’t have given words to it. She had read Tagore’s play “The Dancing Girl’s Worship”. Was this how the dancing girl felt in Buddha’s presence? She would wonder for a long time to come.

“How are the studies going?” Mukundo asked. They usually caught up with each other during dinner.

“I am struggling with English.”

“Your English tutor told me that you know enough for your class 10th exam.”

“But I want to be fluent.”

“What for? It is just another language. It’s not like you have to be fluent in English to prove yourself,” he wanted to make sure that she didn’t develop an inferiority complex. Given her background, mastering English would not be easy for her.

“I want to learn better because I want to read more in English.”

“Why? Are you already out of Bengali books?” he chuckled.  There was nothing wrong in her wanting to learn and read in English. But he was curious about her reasons; so he continued prodding.

“No. They are different.”

“They are. But how so?”

“They are… They talk about things that are different from what I know about, what I identify with.”

“Why would you want to read things you do not identify with?”

“Because… I sometimes identify so much with Sharat Chandra’s heroines that I feel depressed. I would like to believe that the world can be different.”

He sighed, “You are not like them now, I hope.”

“No. No,” she figured that she might have alarmed him, “Don’t get me wrong, Mukundo Babu. That’s not what I meant at all. I was thinking of what I was and what I would have been had you not landed in Uttarpara then…”

“Yeah. Don’t worry,” he smiled in assurance, “And I think it is really good that you are motivated to read English. Whether our nationalist sentiment is pleased or not, it is the international language and being fluent in it opens up several doors. I know someone who can help you.”

And that’s how she was introduced to Alka.

“My colleague at university,” Mukundo introduced her when he brought her home the next evening, “Professor of English, who also moonlights as communication trainer. You can’t have a better teacher.”

Piyali smiled nervously. She had overheard Mahendra’s and Mukundo’s conversations once in a while. Mahendra would not stop lamenting about how Mukundo’s and Alka’s relationship was not right. Piyali had to suppress pangs of jealousy. He was her savior; this marriage was just a means of saving her. She didn’t have any rights on him. It was presumptuous of her to feel jealous. But she hadn’t expected that he would bring her home.

Piyali folded her hands in greetings. Alka smiled kindly at her and that surprised her. Did Alka not feel jealous? Insecure? Or was Piyali so insignificant in Mukundo’s life that she didn’t see any reasons for jealousy?

Alka won her over with time. They did not talk about either of their relationships with Mukundo. But they did talk about everything else. It was an unusual friendship, but one that grew to be strong. She became not just her English, but also the lifestyle tutor. Piyali didn’t have many other opportunities to make friends. She was on speaking term with the neighbors, but her strange relationship with Mukundo was difficult to explain to people. So, she could never make any close friends.

To be continued

Soul-mate (Part 2)

Posted 3 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

Dinner was done with. Mukundo had instructed Sonelal to not cook fish, or put any onion or garlic in the food. As a widow she hadn’t been eating those for eight years. He didn’t want to introduce a sudden change. On dinner table, she had worn one of her older sarees. Almost white. Thankfully she did have some glass bangles, a bindi and sindoor on her. It made her looks slightly different from how he had seen her in her village. She hardly ate. Mukundo didn’t use the cutlery and ate with his hands to ensure that she did not feel out of place. But there was still enough of novelty around to make her feel uncomfortable. He realized that she was not used to eating in company. She probably ate alone, in some corner of kitchen every day. And probably even the suhaagan women in her society didn’t eat with men. He wondered for a while, if he should ask her to take food to her room. But he decided against it. Even if it was uncomfortable for her to begin with, he did not want to set a precedent for a practice that was so regressive and unacceptable.

He tossed and turned in the bed as the events from the last couple of days replayed in his mind.

“What is wrong with you, Mukundo? You are going to marry that girl?” Mahendra was incredulous.

“Hmm…” He was preoccupied with his own thoughts.

“Hmm? Have you wondered how Alka will react?”

That got Mahendra his attention, “Alka? What has it got to do with Alka?”

“It has got nothing to do with Alka? She is not your girlfriend? You are not sleeping with her?”

“We are not in a romantic relationship, Mahendra.”

“Ah! You think so Prof. Thakur. Women in our society do not sleep with men they are not in love with.”

“What a progressive image you have of women in our society,” Mukundo had chuckled.

“I can’t believe it. You are finding it all funny?”

“No. I am not. Mahendra, I hadn’t planned on marrying a village-belle. I had come here in summers to be able to work on my novel. But my own life now seems to be becoming a novel.”

“You talk like you don’t have a role to play in it.”

“All I am saying is that it is not comfortable for me either. But it won’t do to panic about it.”

“It would do very well to pack your bags and run away at night from this wretched place.”

“And how do you think will it affect Piyali?”

“Why? She is head over heels in love with you, or what?”

“She is too scared to feel any other emotions. And these people will eat her up alive. I can’t run away now.”

“It’s not like these people believe in widows marrying.”

“Her step-mother is very happy at the prospect of getting rid of her. If that hope is snatched away from her, she won’t be kind to her.”

“She hasn’t been kind to her till now either.”

“Precisely why I had to come to her defense. When she started off before me, I could not withhold.”

“So, what exactly happened? She started scolding Piyali and you came forward like a knight in shining armor to take her away?”

“No. It was less heroic than that. I tried to reason with her that Piyali was only helping me with some housework, and nothing was going on about which she needed to panic. But she wanted me to shut up as  it was their family matter.”

“And?”

“And I said that any civilized person cannot silently witness an innocent girl being treated like that. She was amused that I found a widow to be innocent. Innocent women didn’t get widowed so early. And if she was so innocent, was I going to marry her? If not, then I should hold my tongue, because she belongs to her family. They can do with her whatever  they please.”

“And you said that you were going to marry her.”

Mukundo sighed, “Yes!”

“What are you? Rajnikanth?”

“It is ridiculous. But it has happened.”

“So, you are going to marry her?”

“Yes.”

Mahendra threw his hands up in despair.

“Whoa! Mukundo. You are joking, right?” Alka was incredulous.

“I’m not. You can ask Mahendra.”

“And that is exactly how you got around to marrying? Because you said you would – in the spur of the moment.”

“So, it is!”

“I know you don’t like it that I am so realistic. But this… This is foolish by most people’s standards.”

“I know. This is foolish by even my standards. But I couldn’t back out. She would have been miserable.”

“Wow! And what do you plan to do with her?”

“Give her a dignified life. And try to make her independent.”

“And that’s what she wants?”

“I don’t know. I can only introduce her to a different life. If she likes it, she’d get it.”

“And if she doesn’t like it?”

“She is my wife. She is secure. She will get everything she deserves.”

“Including the right to no adultery by her husband?”

“Oh! Come on, Alka. I’m not… She is a kid. A traumatized kid.”

“She won’t always remain so.”

“If she does grow up, she’d know what is good for her.”

“Great then. I have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m no closer to finding my soul-mate. Unless you are…”

“Nope. I don’t believe in soul-mates. Realist, remember?” She laughed and put her arms around his neck.

“How the hell do you manage to do that?” Mahendra asked at the university.

“Manage to do what?”

“Dismiss people and their questions.”

“Because I genuinely believe that others have no business poking nose in my business. I am free to marry whosoever I want and I don’t have to explain it to anybody.”

Mahendra shook his head; then asked after a pause, “How is she doing? Piyali?”

That drew a sincere reply from Mukundo, “I don’t know. But I think she is adjusting.”

“What is your plan?”

“I have a goal. To give her a dignified life. I have no plans.”

“And you think it is dignifying for her that her husband sleeps around with other women?”

“Her dignity has been tied for too long with a husband. I think it is high time that it be dissociated and she starts living her own life.”

“Alka is right. Even the dreamiest people would appear realist compared to you.”

“Name the devil, and the devil is here,” Mukundo laughed as Alka entered the room.

“Who is calling whom devil?”

“I have to go home. I will leave you two to deal with devilishness. Good night.”

“Alka. I need your help,” Mukundo said after Mahendra left.

“Tell me my prince charming.”

“I need you to buy some clothes… sarees actually for Piyali.”

“Why?”

“She only seems to have white sarees. It’s depressing. And I don’t think she’d be comfortable shopping around in Kolkata yet.”

“Okay. Then why only sarees? I can get her some other dresses as well. Probably some salwar-kameez.”

“That’d need her to be there for the correct measurements etc. I don’t know if she would be comfortable.”

“I can take her shopping. Introduce me to her.”

“Not yet. You will overwhelm her. For now, just the sarees.”

“Okay boss!”

“And don’t buy white please. Not necessarily all bright, but must have some color.”

“Sure thing.”

To be continued

Soul-mate (Part 1)

Posted 7 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

Mahendra decided not to stay on. Mukundo asked the driver to drop him home. Sonelal looked confused as he saw a saree and sindoor-clad Piyali getting down from back seat of the car. Piyali herself was bewildered. Mukundo knew that awkwardness was going to be his constant companion from now on. So, he decided to face it.

“She is Piyali,” he introduced her to Sonelal, “She is from Uttarpara. She will live with us now.” Sonelal nodded still looking confused. Why would a woman from Uttarpara live with them? Mukundo added after struggling with words for a while, “Actually… We got married last night.”

“Who? Who got married, Dada?” Sonelal asked in astonishment.

“We. Me and Piyali. Now close your mouth and take the luggage.”

“Right… Right Dada.” It made no sense to Sonelal. Mukundo Thakur getting married? Just like that? To some random woman from Uttarpara? He saw Piyali taking out a bag from the car.

“Let it be Boudi,” he hastened to take it from her, “I will carry it.”

“That’s… that’s okay…” she spoke nervously. She didn’t belong here! Servants were not there to serve her. She herself was one of them… She didn’t know what to do?  In confusion she looked at Mukundo.

“Let him take it,” he said understanding her confusion. They walked inside and waited in his room while Sonelal carried and deposited both their bags in the room.

“Shall I bring some tea? Or will you directly have dinner?” Sonelal asked before leaving the room.

“I will let you know,” Mukundo said and dismissed him. Then he turned to Piyali, “It’s quite late. You must be tired. Change into something comfortable. Then we can have tea or dinner as you like.”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but was unable to gather courage. “What is it?” he asked, “You want to say something?”

“No… Yes… I… I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“I don’t know what I am supposed to do… Tonight… On wedding night…”

“What?” He was exasperated at first; then felt amused. “You don’t know what to… You mean you have never slept with someone.”

She gulped and nodded. Mukundo could see how mortified she was. He decided to put her out of misery. “Relax. You don’t have to do anything. Absolutely nothing. You will change into something comfortable, eat and then go to sleep. Okay?”

She stared at him, as if unable to make sense of what he said.

“Do you understand?” he asked, like the teacher he was!

She finally nodded uncertainly.

On second thoughts, he decided not to leave her alone immediately.

“Sit down, Piyali. I want to talk to you for a while.”

She mechanically made to sit down on the floor.

“No. No,” he almost cried, “Not on the floor. This is not Uttarpara. Take that chair and sit down comfortably.” He pointed towards the chair lying near his writing desk.

She gulped nervously, but did not resist. She gingerly pulled the chair out, turned it so that she could face him, and sat down. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I know that things are overwhelming for you,” he started speaking, “And I don’t know myself if I took the right decision is bringing you here. I wish you had a chance to make the decision for yourself. But your family would never have given you that chance. Am I right?”

She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. She struggled to keep her tears in check.

“But all that later. What you said just now doesn’t make sense. You are widowed. How could you not…”

“I never went to my in-law’s place. The accident happened before that. He died. Soon after the wedding…” she replied in a small voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. But that still didn’t make sense. They might not have immediately consummated their marriage. But for a girl who was married, how she could be so naïve and not know… He couldn’t contain his curiosity, “How old are you, Piyali?”

“I… I don’t know,” she stammered.

“You don’t know?” he frowned.

“I mean… Let me calculate… Ten… ” she mumbled as she counted something on her hands, “Eighteen, I think.”

“Eighteen?” his eyes widened in surprise. She was just eighteen. When did she get married and widowed? He fervently hoped that she was at least eighteen. Else he would have married a minor!

She misunderstood his shock to think he didn’t believe her estimation of her age. She spoke as a way of explanation, “Everyone says I was ten-years old at the time of wedding. And I have performed pooja for eight of his barsis… So…”

“Ten?” Damn! She was a child-widow. What had he taken upon himself? If she had been living like how he had seen her since she was ten, most of her life had been traumatic. Would he be able to fix that? How?

She just nodded, unaware of the storm going on in his mind. She was preoccupied with her attempts to understand his motives. Why was he asking those questions? Was he trying to judge if she was suitable to be his wife? Why would he do that? She, obviously, wasn’t suitable. Why had he taken that decision? Why had he married her? Despite having convinced herself that he was a perfect gentleman, she could not rid her head of that conversation. The one she had overheard between her step-mother and their neighbor.

“Why would a Professor from Kolkata want to marry a village girl, Savitri? That too a widow?” the neighbor had wondered aloud.

“How do I know? The quirks of city-dwellers.” Savitri had been disinterested.

“Don’t mind Savitri. But there is something I am sure of. And I think it is my duty to warn you.”

“What is it?”

“You know there are those places in cities. Kolkata especially. I think all this care for her is just a drama. He wants to sell her off.”

“Hasn’t she already sold herself off,” Savitri was least bothered about the fate of her step-daughter, “As it is, her presence and her character is becoming a trouble for my daughters. Let him take her away and do whatever with her.”

Recalling that conversation terrorized her. She jumped out of the chair without realizing it. She trembled uncontrollably.

“Piyali!” he noticed her state and rushed to her. He made to hold her, but stopped. “What happened? Talk to me. Are you scared?”

Despite her vulnerability, she could not mistrust that caring voice. “A little,” she managed to mumble.

“Piyali. You are safe here. It’s not a lot, but you have known me for over a month. You don’t need to be scared of me.”

Was there a tinge of disappointment in his voice? Was he offended that she did not trust him? But she did trust him. Janani Kaki, her neighbor, she was used to talking rubbish. Of course, she shouldn’t take her words to her heart. And she should not offend him because of her. He has made such a sacrifice to restore dignity to her life.

“I am not scared of you, Mukundo Babu,” she said with as much strength in her voice as she could muster.

“Good. I know that the change in overwhelming and sudden. It is natural to have misgivings. But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make you comfortable.”

She nodded.

“And yes. About us… You don’t have to worry about this wedding thing. I couldn’t have brought you away without this. But this is not how marriages should be done. There has to be some understanding, some compatibility. I am never going to impose upon you. So, don’t be bothered about me. Okay?”

That was too radical for her to comprehend. She looked at him wide-eyed; nervous and scared. If he didn’t intend to accept her as his wife, what did he want?

He read through her confusion and smiled kindly. “None of it is making sense to you. Let it be. Everything doesn’t have to be sorted out today. Tonight, just focus on resting and feeling better. You stay in this room. I will take my stuff to another room.”

“But this is your room, right?”

“Yes. But you can stay here…”

“I don’t need this room, Mukundo Babu. I don’t need any room. I just need some corner to sleep in…”

“That is not how anyone sleeps here, Piyali. There are beds to sleep in,” he was mildly irritated.

“But you keep your room. Give me the room you were going to take.”

He sighed, “Fair enough. Let me take you there.”

He settled her in another room and made to leave. But something struck him just before leaving. “Let me show you how to use the bathroom?”

“What?”

“There are no hand-pumps here. You may not know how to use the shower, geyser etc. Let me show you.”

She nodded, gulping yet again. He did want to leave her alone so that she could rest and wrap her head around the massive change that had come in her life. But things kept coming up. This was absolutely the final one for the day! Except for dinner.

To be continued

Epilogue (Lover’s Eyes)

Posted 19 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“Ladies and Gentleman. A big hand for the man who has a unique combination of achievements to his credit – a successful businessman, recently revealed to be the gifted artist the world had known only with a pseudonym till now, and a most generous philanthropist. In honoring him today, we are honoring ourselves!”

Mukundo walked to the stage amidst loud applause. His gait was not as powerful and straight as it used to be thirty years ago. Despite having adopted a very healthy lifestyle, as he had promised Piyali, the age had finally caught up with him.

“Good evening everyone,” Mukundo started his speech with a formal greeting, “The reason I accepted the invitation to this ceremony is so that I can counter the allegations made against me in the introduction right now.” This drew a chuckle from the audience. “The reality is that my life was well on its way of being wasted. I was a self-destructive person and did everything that made even the people who had known me from childhood, shrink away from me. I was too disillusioned and angry with life, with people, with their treacheries. Amidst all this there was one person who gave me a hope that life could be better. And when that hope did not bring me out of the self-pity I was wallowing me, fate went a step ahead and destroyed her to shake me out of my idle, wasted existence. All these qualities you ascribe to me today have been made over her destruction. It seems like she had come to this world only to set me right. That is how my artist mind thinks of her. But when I put my rationality to work, I know that with care and caution, what happened to her was avoidable. It happened about thirty years ago, but HIV was avoidable. Today the medical science has progressed much further. Medicines are a lot more reliable. And yet – even today – prevention is better than cure. And even today, HIV patients need a supporting hand. What I did after she left me was what I had to do. It wasn’t a heavily deliberated decision, no great sacrifice, no act of magnanimity.  It was the one and only obvious use of my house, and my life. So, the care centre was created for HIV patients in my house, and the money that I made as a shareholder in our family business, or through my paintings, funded it initially. As the project expanded and got beyond my own financial and operational abilities, help poured in from different quarters and you all know what it is like today. Unfortunately, the work is not over. We are yet to cure or eradicate the malady. It needs an even greater push. Our foundation, now, wants to contribute to relevant research in the area. It needs money, more money. I am sure the help will pour in as usual. But I have decided to do my bit. There is a surprise waiting for your today, which was not pre-announced at my request. This is something I have kept close to my heart all my life, never shared with anyone. But now the time has come. If there are people in the audience who have appreciated my paintings, what you will see now are the ones I consider my most beautiful, at least most soulful. This set of thirty two paintings traces her life – short as it was, which gave meaning to my own life.”

At the cue, a curtain at the back of the stage went up, and thirty two paintings came in the full view of audience. There she was! For the world at last. A baby in the crib, crying, laughing, ready for school in her uniform and two pigtails, practicing dance, leaning on table doing homework, performing on stage, frowning over something, a grown up college student, a young woman in her wedding attire, a wife in saree and sindoor and single pigtail, then on the bus stop trying to avoid him, perched up on a stool and hanging a painting in her new home, looking sick and pale as the disease progressed – the series ended with a painting of her on her death bed. After the painting in the wedding attire, he had made all others after her death. From his memory, as usual.

It took the audience sometime to glance through the paintings. And the applause that erupted after that was thunderous and refused to die down.  He finally had to lift his hands to signal the audience to quieten down. When they finally did, he explained that he had made five sets out of the paintings, each having a painting from one representative phase of her life. For the first and last painting, he had made five copies, so that each set will have them to complete the story. These sets were up for bidding and the proceeds will be used by the foundation to fund HIV research.

Mukundo leaned back on the back seat of the car on his way back from the ceremony. He was tired. Not just from the evening’s exertions. But from the life’s as well. He had lived too long without her. He pressed a covered rectangular packet close to his heart. On her request, he had made her nude painting on a small canvas. “I want to be able to keep it beside me when I die,” she had said. After she was gone, he kept it with him all the time. Wrapped up to keep it from others. Today he had let go of all her other paintings. This one was his own.

“Mukundo Babu,” the driver called his name when he didn’t get out of the car. They had reached the apartment in which Piyali had lived and which was now his home and painting studio. His parental home had been converted to the care centre. Mukundo did not respond. Worried, the driver got out and opened his door. He tried to shake him gently to wake him up. But his body fell to one side. Lifeless! But content and smiling. The rectangular package fell in his lap. Driver picked it up with trembling hands. It had a small note on it – “Send it, as it is, with me to my funeral pyre.”

– The End –

Lover’s Eyes (Part 8)

Posted 4 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

Debangi was so guilty and ashamed that she didn’t even try to give her opinion on the arrangements for Piyali. Mukundo still offered her an explanation that it was better for Piyali to continue to stay in the apartment. It was closer to the university and to the hospital. And back at home, there were too many people, mostly staff, many with small kids. She needed increasingly hygienic surroundings, which was easier to achieve in a smaller house where there weren’t many other people. She agreed to everything he said. Priyendra was emotional to meet Piyali. He surprised Piyali and Mukundo by apologizing to her on behalf of their mother.

“My kid brother has grown up, Mukundo Babu,” she said lovingly.

“Yes,” replied Mukundo, “And has become responsible too. He had done very well in school last year. I’m sure he will do as well as you in his board exams.”

Piyali patted his head affectionately and he blushed a little.

For next one year, Piyali was continuously in and out of the hospital. But she really wanted to finish her post graduation, which Mukundo had gotten her enrolled into with so much hope.

“I don’t want to deceive myself, or you, Mukundo Babu. I won’t be able to work after university. I won’t be able to do justice to any job. But I want to study. I want to fulfill at least part of my dream, your dream for me.” She was already not in a position to do much of housework. Mukundo had hired a house help. Because even he spent most of his time tending to her. He drove her to the university, waited for her in the library while she attended classes and took her back with him. There were times when he had to drive her to the hospital in the middle of a class. Sometimes she would feel depressed, “It’s not worth it, Mukundo Babu. You life is getting wasted running around with me all the time.”

“These are the only meaningful days of my life,” he wouldn’t entertain her concern and she would then pull all her will-power together to get better and go back to attending her classes.

After her exams were over, Mukundo decided that there was no point in rushing to the hospital all the time. He made all the arrangements at home. He also hired nurses to be with her all the time, although he himself hardly ever left her side. But many a times, professional decisions needed to be made – some medicine to be given, some injection to be administered!

It went on for another two years. Medicines made her condition better once in a while. On those days, he took her on long drives. They never stayed out of home till late, never ate or drank anything outside; it was not safe for her failing immune system. At times she noticed him eying some street food or some sweets. “You should take some, Mukundo Babu,” she would urge him. But he wouldn’t do that. Even at home, he had taken to eating only what she ate. His dedication had taken everyone by surprise. He never tired, never got bored! He didn’t need alcohol, and he didn’t get any time to paint. He did continue to handle the business, but mostly worked from home.

Despite all the precautions, of maintaining just the right temperature in her room, of bringing her just the right food at right temperature, of giving her only purified water boiled twice on top of purification, she had caught cold. And then pneumonia. The doctor visited her and shook his head helplessly. She was dying.

She also knew that. So, she finally decided to ask that one question that had hung unanswered between them.

“Can I ask you something, Mukundo Babu?”

“You don’t have to wait for my permission, Piyali.”

“Why did you let me get married?”

“I’m sorry,” his grief was apparent in his voice. If he had stopped her then, today she wouldn’t be on her death-bed.

“I am not blaming you, Mukundo Babu. Please don’t react like that.”

“What can I say, Piyali? What right did I have over you?”

“You had all the rights. You were scared of claiming them. Why?”

He sighed.

“I had read your diary once,” she confessed, “I know there was something that held you back. But I don’t know what it was. Tell me, please.”

“Thank you,” he said after a few moments of silence, “Thank you for asking. It’s not like I expect it to be any justification of what happened. But still… You should know. Whatever be my flaws…”

“Mukundo Babu. If it is something that will cause this self-loathing in you, that will give you pain, I don’t want to know it.”

“What does give me pain, Piyali, is seeing you here. Like this. Every other pain, whatever I had, has paled in comparison to this.”

She smiled sadly, “So, the only way I could rid you of pain was to give a bigger pain.”

“Did you lie to me when you said you had read my diary? Because if you had, you would know better. Ever since Ma died, the only thing that has kept me anything like a normal human has been you, the time I spent with you.”

“Her death was traumatic, wasn’t it?”

“Her death would have been sad, depressing. It was her murder that was traumatic.”

“Murder?” Piyali was surprised.

“You were hardly a few months old then. You wouldn’t know. But then, nobody knew. Even those who did, pretended not to. It was all in the family, after all.”

“What are you saying, Mukundo Babu?”

“It was my father who had killed her, Piyali. He was a drunkard. That day was no exception. He was pitch drunk. The room was locked from inside. But I was at the window looking through the glass. I banged on it. He didn’t hear. Or didn’t bother. Everything was hushed down afterwards. My grandfather was an expert at these things. This business wasn’t built with honest money. Although he was shrewd enough to clean it all up later.”

“I am sorry,” she whispered feeling horrified.

“It was a good thing Baba himself died a few months later. Otherwise, I am sure he would have died at my hands. My anger was overwhelming and dangerous.”

“Mukundo Babu!”

“I have the same blood in my veins, Piyali. I have a monstrous soul. I am a dangerous person.”

“I have never seen you getting aggressive, Mukundo Babu. Why would you think like that about yourself?”

He smiled weakly, “No. You have never seen my bad temper. It doesn’t show itself up before you.  Probably that is the reason your presence often made me want to become normal. But I was scared of what I was capable of being. The only difference between my father or grandfather and me was that I was aware of how dangerous I could be. Drinking and every other objectionable thing I did was a way to avoid facing and giving rise to the monster I felt within myself.”

“You have punished yourself for crimes you never committed. You have been unfair to yourself, Mukundo Babu.”

“I don’t know about that. But I have failed you miserably, Piyali.”

“No. Stop talking like that. If someone is at all at fault for my condition, it is probably Ma. But above everything else, it’s just my fate. Nobody is really responsible. And least of all, you.”

“You have never believed other people’s words against me, Piyali. It is no surprise that you don’t believe mine either.”

“Fate has not been kind to us in this birth Mukundo Babu. But in next one…”

“For your sake, I would start believing that there is a next birth.”

“And in this one, when I am gone Mukundo Babu,” Piyali said somberly, “Please don’t start drinking again. For my sake.”

He looked at her with moist eyes. He didn’t say anything, but the promise was understood.

“Will you,” she asked hesitantly after a pause, “kiss me once?”

He was startled; and overwhelmed; and it showed on his face. It looked like he was going to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Yes,” he managed to speak through his choking throat, “Willingly… And desperately.”

He bent down and at first just gave a quick, soft peck on her lips. Their eyes locked into each other and if there was anything unspoken remaining between them, it was all said in those few moments. Then he started bending down again. “No,” she whispered, “It’s dangerous.” “I can risk much more,” he replied and gently thrust his tongue in her mouth. She was physically weak and soon out of breath. So, he broke the kiss sooner than he would have liked. The blushing smile on her face made up for that though.

“There is something else I want to do,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“What?” she asked with some alarm.

“Paint you. Nude.”

She averted her eyes, “It’s too late, Mukundo Babu. I am too ugly to pose for you now.”

“When have I ever needed you to pose for me?” his reply was unhesitant, “And you are the most beautiful girl this world has ever seen. Never try to argue about that. Not with me.”

Tears started flowing from her eyes, but he gently wiped them off.

– The End –

Lover’s Eyes (Part 7)

Posted 3 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

A year passed this way and Debangi never tried to contact Piyali. Mukundo was angry, but Piyali begged him to keep quiet and not bother her in anyway. “Despite everything , she is my mother, Mukundo Babu. And Baba’s condition, Priyendra’s responsibility… She is under too much pressure.”

“If she didn’t treat you this way, she could have had your help. And mine!”

“She doesn’t think a daughter can be of any help,” Piyali had said sadly, “But you can help her.”

“Yes. I am not throwing your family out, Piyali. And beyond that, she doesn’t consider me good for anything anyway.”

Debangi was a simple woman. Almost too simple. She didn’t have much of a mind of her own. She believed and did what the customs of society dictated. To her credit, she had tried her best to look after Mukundo after his mother died, even though she herself had an infant Piyali to take care of. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Twelve-year old Mukundo was battling with confusion, angst and low self-esteem. He needed someone to see through all of that and help him navigate through it. Debangi couldn’t do it. She watched helplessly as he developed such bad temper that everyone was scared of him. Except probably his grandfather. She did notice his attachment to Piyali though and found that when he was with her, it had positive, calming effect on him. She was fine with that; for next few years at least, until he grew up and found his own avenues for letting his angst and insecurities play out. Drinking, visiting prostitutes and escorts, staying out of home till late nights, even drugs once in a while, not to mention the short-temper that continued to wreck havoc. She tried to pull Piyali away from him then, but it was too late. He already held a magnetic attraction for her daughter! She was a servant. And after his father and grandfather’s death, Mukundo was the de-facto head of the house. She couldn’t say anything to him. But she developed a dislike for him, which she did not try to hide in her behavior and actions, even if she could not give words to it. His temper got more under control over time as the responsibilities of business fell on him and as he discovered art as a means of expressing himself. Piyail’s friendship continued to be his lifeline. Debangi’s dislike did not go away, however. He still drank, visited prostitutes and did suspicious things, according to her. Mukundo did not blame her for that. Not until he realized that her dislike for him had come in the way of Piyali’s wellbeing.

Mukundo had been bitter about her treatment of her daughter, but had agreed to Piyali’s request of not saying anything to her. Piyali would often ask him about her family. She didn’t usually ask directly about Debangi, but she did about her father and brother. “Your father is still in coma,” he would inform her every time. His condition refused to change. It neither got better, nor did it deteriorate. But not once did he hear any murmurs about Piyali in his house. Not from Debangi, not from any other staff.

So, he was extremely surprised when he found Debangi waiting for him one evening. “I need your help, Mukundo Babu,” she looked helpless, not like her usual assertive self. He got worried thinking that something might have happened to Piyali’s father. But that was not the case. “I need to find Piyali,” she said.

“Why?”

Mukundo hadn’t acted surprised by her request. He should have been. He had never been told that Piyali had left her home. But she was so engrossed in her own worries that she did not notice that.

“I have done so wrong by my child,” she said miserably. Then she narrated the story that he already knew by heart. About what had happened to Piyali after that fated blood report. She carefully omitted to tell him that they had accused him along with Piyali. He didn’t point that out either. What brought this sudden change in her feelings, he wondered while she talked. Soon enough she came to that. “Pronab is on death-bed. His illness was much advanced. He would have had it for four or five years at least. He couldn’t have gotten it from her,” she told him and broke down, “She was right all along Mukundo Babu. I didn’t believe her!” She also told him more about Pronab. His lifestyle had always been questionable. She never cared to find out before fixing the marriage.

Mukundo could not hide bitterness in his voice as he asked, “And you didn’t care to find out about her all these days?”

She shook her head guiltily.

“What do you want now?”

“Find her Mukundo Babu. You have the contacts, and resources. She is not at the place she had taken up at first. But my heart says she is not dead. She can’t be. Please find her. You have always cared so much about her…”

Mukundo wanted Debangi to suffer! Also, he wasn’t sure if it was up to him to reveal anything about Piyali. She herself would have to take that decision. So, he just told Debangi that he would see what he can do and left her.

He was already a little worried that day. Piyali wasn’t looking well after returning from the university. Medicines for AIDS were often highly experimental. They had often changed them in last one year to avoid side-effects.  The doctor had looked worried last time. He had confided in Mukundo that he was not happy with the situation. Medicines were not working as well as they should have. And she had looked extra tired today. He had stopped her from cooking and had ordered food. She’d have to skip university tomorrow. He’d take her to the doctor. Debangi could wait. If Piyali has suffered for so long for no fault of hers, Debangi could suffer for a few days for being so cruel and insensitive, for her bullheadedness.

Next morning Piyali looked like all energy had been drained out of her. Mukundo lost no time in taking her to the doctor.

“Admit her here for a few days. Her immune system is giving way. When outside, she needs to be extra careful,” the doctor told him grimly.

“You will be all right,” he told her as she lied on the hospital bed.

“I won’t be, Mukundo Babu. But that’s all right. I just wish…”

“Tell me.”

“I wish I could see Baba. He is now at home, right?” They had brought him home several months ago. There was no point in keeping him in the hospital. Debangi herself looked after him.

Mukundo sighed. He decided to tell her, “Mashi is trying to find you.”

“She is? How come?”

“She found out that Pronab was sick for several years.” He didn’t talk about him being on death-bed. That might bring her morale down.

“Take me home, Mukundo Babu.”

“A few days here and then we would go, okay? If you want I will get her here.”

She nodded.

“Do you want to talk to her now?”

“Yes,” she whispered as tears threatened her eyes.

He picked up her mobile that was lying on the nearby table. He had gifted it to her recently. “I will wait outside,” he said and made to leave, but she clutched his hands.

“Please stay,” she said.

She spoke to her mother, assured her that she was all right and was crying by the time she disconnected the call.

“Don’t cry,” his said gently, “Everything is all right.”

She nodded but still continued to cry. He wiped her tears with his hands and feeling overwhelmed himself, bent down and kissed her on forehead.  “Don’t cry. Please,” he whispered to her again. She heard what he hadn’t spoken. That it hurt him to see her cry. She made an effort and wiped off her remaining tears.

“Mukundo Babu,” she said after a while.

“Hmm?”

“I like it there. Staying in that house… Our house… Home…” He looked at her quizzically; so she continued, “Ma might want to take me back home. I miss her. I want to see Baba, meet Priyendra. But I… I like staying there…”

She had almost spoken his mind out. He liked it that she was reuniting with her mother and was happy about it. But he also had become used to having her to himself. If she went back with her mother, that would change again. It won’t be as bad as it was earlier. He wouldn’t have to wait for her to come to him and would be able to meet her freely. But it won’t be as good as it was now. He didn’t want anything to change. But he was unable to say anything about it. And then he had to leave her alone at nights in the apartment. As her condition deteriorated, that wouldn’t be a good idea. So, if she wanted to go back… But she had resolved his dilemma now. At least one part of it. She wanted to stay. He would be able to explain it to Debangi why she should stay.

“Me too,” he said with a smile, “But there is one problem which needs to be resolved.”

“What is it?” she asked anxiously.

“I am not comfortable with you staying there alone at nights. Something needs to be done.”

“I know the apartment is too small for you, Mukundo Babu. Still, could you stay with me?”

He stared at her in surprise. “With you there, that apartment is the world to me, Piyali. But are you sure?”

“I was sick last night, Mukundo Babu. At one point, it seemed like I could feel my death. And I realized, then, that I no longer cared for the world.”

Mukundo’s eyes moistened. He held her hands and kissed them one by one. “Leave the rest to me,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“And somewhere, deep down, I desperately wanted to prove to Ma that she had been wrong about me, about us. That is accomplished now. I don’t care any longer. Not even for her approval.”

They heard a knock at the door just then. A nurse came in and told them that they had visitors.

“Must be Mashi,” he told Piyali.

“Stay with me,” she said.

“Yes. I will. But let me check and escort her in.”

To be continued

Lover’s Eyes (Part 6)

Posted 3 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“What? How?” Mukundo was shocked and could not help asking at this point. She didn’t know. What she did know, however, that she had donated blood while in college and had been tested earlier. So, this was a recent development.

“Must be Pronab then,” Mukundo said looking horrified.

“He refused to get tested. He claims that even if he has it, it would be because of me… Because I…”

“He is accusing you of cheating?” Anger rose in him again.

She nodded.

“What the hell. He is… Oh my God!” it suddenly dawned on him why she was so reluctant to talk. “With me?” He asked incredulously.

She nodded.

“He thinks I have AIDS?”

She just bit her lips.

“Because I go to bad women?” Suddenly he didn’t feel awkward discussing this with her.

“Mukundo Babu, please…”

“That’s why he threw you out, instead of helping and supporting you? He thought you were cheating? Why didn’t you tell Mashi?”

It turned out that Debangi didn’t trust Piyali either. She herself had suspected Piyali’s and Mukundo’s relationship. And that was one of the reasons she had jumped on the first chance to get her married. “She asked me to stay away, to not bring ill-name to the family. She didn’t want to ruin Priyendra’s prospects.”

“And that’s why she asked you to stay away from me too?” Mukundo asked with a chill in his voice.

She didn’t say anything, but it was obvious that the answer was a ‘yes’.

“That has been enough of nonsense,” he said in the same voice, “Pack up whatever you have to, and come with me.”

“I can’t,” she panicked, “I will not come with you Mukundo Babu. That would…”

“That would what? Why should you suffer for other people’s stupidities?”

“It would upset Ma. Baba is bedridden for months, Mukundo Babu.”

“If she doesn’t understand her own daughter…”

“It is also your reputation…”

“My reputation? What reputation do I have that I have to think of?”

“Think of mine, then,” she pleaded, “I can’t go back to the same people with this scandal on me. I don’t have that much courage, Mukundo Babu. And how will it all affect Priyendra? He is young. He shouldn’t get caught up in all this and get distracted.”

Mukundo sighed. That logic was irrefutable. “But I can’t let you stay here.”

“I’m fine with it.”

“I’m not. Until I make other arrangements, you will stay in a good hotel. Let’s go from here. This moment.”

“I need to inform the landlord. There is rent to be paid… And notice period”

“Give me his contact. I will arrange for his payments.”

“Mukundo Babu…”

“Time for pretenses is up, Piyali. I should never have let you get married. Look at what has happened. Irreversible damage has been done. But, it can’t continue like this. Let’s go. I don’t want to stay here for another moment.”

Mukundo had started painting again. Piyali was settled in a well-furnished two-bedroom apartment. She had left the teaching job she had picked up at a school and had joined the university for her post-graduation. “I know you have started to like teaching. But you also wanted to study, remember? Do your post-graduation and teach at a college. Who will stop you?” Mukundo had argued.

He had taken her to a specialist doctor.

“It has been diagnosed very early on,” the doctor was encouraging, “We do not have a cure for it yet. But with medicines, viruses can be kept in check and there are all the hopes that, with some precautions, she would live a normal life for many years to come.”

Mukundo had beamed at the assurance, even as Piyali had shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She knew that the treatment would be expensive and the doctor also mentioned that next.

“So long as it isn’t beyond the money I have, there is no need to be bothered about it,” Mukundo had replied firmly, “And even if it is so, just tell me. I will figure out where to get the money from.”

The doctor had chuckled at that. He knew Mukundo’s background, “No. It is very much within what you have, Mr. Thakur. But it is still substantial. So, I had to mention it.”

Mukundo had shrugged at that. Before they left, the doctor had stopped them to give one final piece of advice hesitatingly, “Medicines or no medicines, the danger of transmission is always there. So, you have to be careful about that.”

Piyali had turned red on hearing that. Mukundo had held her hand tight as he had replied, “We understand that, doctor. There is nothing to worry about.”

He spent most of his free time at her apartment, giving rise to more gossips amongst servants and neighbors, who wondered about his regular absence from his house. She had refused to have any house help here and he had respected that wish. It was good in a way. There was no danger of any news of her traveling back to Debangi and others back in the house and neighborhood. Piyali could live her life secluded from her earlier society as her mother wanted and as she herself wished. But she wasn’t living with any compromises at least.

She cooked every day. For herself as well as him. “I had no idea you cooked so well, Piyali,” he had told her the first time she cooked.

“Nothing surprising. Ma had been training me since I was thirteen!”

“You never cooked anything for me earlier.”

“Ma bothered me so much about it that I used to get annoyed. So, I never did it willingly. Although what you ate at home once in a while would have had something cooked by me.”

“Hmm…”

He often cleaned the house while she was at the university. She had been horrified the first time she had come back to squeaky clean house.

“Who did this?”

“I did!”

“You?” she was shocked, “Oh God! That’s… absurd Mukundo Babu. I would have done it. How can you…”

“I am fairly fit and fine, Piyali. I am not that old. I can do a bit of physical work,” he had joked.

“It’s not that. Mukundo Babu. If you are worried about my studies, fine. I will keep a house help. You have never lifted a finger all your life. Why would you…”

“Because I like it,” he had told her sincerely, “Because I want to make this place a home. Something I haven’t felt in a long time about any place. Not since Ma died anyway…” His voice had drowned.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t be sad,” she had urged.

He had smiled sadly, “Am I imposing myself on you?”

“No,” she had been overwhelmed, “If you like it, do it. But if you stop liking it, if you get tired, or if you find it to be drain on your time, please stop doing it. I am used to it and I can do it very easily.”

He hadn’t stopped doing it. Instead, she had gotten comfortable with the idea that he would work around the house. Slowly, she even started coming forward and asking him for help, when she felt tired or felt that she could use help.

They bought grocery together. He insisted that she should buy more dresses for herself. After initial hesitation, she had given in. She even got him a few new shirts and kurtas of her choice.

She had hung the painting on the wall. “You don’t have to keep it, Piyali,” he had said, “It must give you pain.”

“I don’t associate it with him, Mukundo Babu. You had given it to me. That is all that matters,” she had replied with a disarming smile.

Life had fallen in a rhythm. If someone watched them, they would have looked as good as a married couple. Except that he never stayed there at night. If someday her secret life and existence was to be revealed to anyone who knew her, they need not raise finger on her character. He wasn’t bothered about his own!

To be continued

Lover’s Eyes (Part 5)

Posted 4 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“Why did you go to meet him?” Pronab demanded of her when they were preparing to go to bed.

“Whom?”

“Mukundo Thakur!” Don’t take his name, she wanted to cry. But she swallowed her bitterness.

“How could I come here and not meet him?” she said plainly.

“His character is well-known to everyone. Don’t forget that you are a married woman now.”

“He has always been my friend and guardian…” she retorted despite herself and was greeted with a slap. Back in Haldia, she wouldn’t have been surprised. Even if she managed to not provoke him the entire day, he got a kick out of slapping her in bed. But she hadn’t thought that he would do it here too! She was stunned into silence. He dragged her and pushed her on the bed. She bit her lips and tried to keep it noiseless. The servant quarter had a single bedroom and her mother and brother were sleeping in the hall right outside. What if they heard!

Her letter had come by post. It didn’t carry her name anywhere. His neither, except on the envelop with the address. “For my sake, if nobody else’s, please don’t drown yourself in alcohol. Please take care of your business and don’t let the artist in you die.” That was all it said.

After she had left the room with her brother, he had noticed the diary. It wasn’t where he had left it. When he picked it up, and flipped through it, it opened naturally to certain pages. The pages that had recently been read and where pages were pressed. And then on one page, he had noticed the stain. Of teardrops! That explained her changed behavior. She had read it all. She knew! And when that letter came, he had to pull himself together. She shouldn’t feel guilty for him. He hoped that Promila or Piyali’s mother or Priyendra, somebody will convey to her that his drinking was back to normal. And that she would be able to infer that he was attending to his business again. In fact, he was getting more involved than earlier. Because do what he may, inspiration for a painting would not come. What could he do with the time in hand, except attend to business? In few months time, it became known to the servants and the neighbors that he was going to office. They wondered and gossiped about what could have happened? Was he going to get married? To whom? They hoped it was not to one of those bad women he visited, and not to one of those strange ones he used to bring home.

Mukundo brought his car to a screeching halt at the bus stop. She recognized it and started walking away before he could pull the tinted windows down. Surprised and worried, he got out, without caring that he had left the car standing where a bus normally would.

“Piyali!” he shouted after her.

She had no option now. She stopped and turned to him. “Mukundo Babu!” she feigned a surprise. But she acted badly. He was sure she was trying to avoid him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

She fell silent.

“Are you with someone?” he asked next.

She shook her head.

“Get in the car,” he said.

She silently followed him. That was no place to avoid or explain.

Mukundo started driving towards home.

“Don’t drive to home, Mukundo Babu,” she requested.

“Where to, then?”

“Take a left at the next circle. I will tell you the way.”

It was then that he noticed. All the changes introduced in her by her marriage had reverted. She wore a salwaar-kameez, had her hair in a pony tail like earlier and there was no sign of sindoor. It was all so mysterious. But he decided to wait with his questions, until they had reached someplace they could talk. It had been nine months since her visit home. What was she doing in Kolkata alone? And why would she not go home?

The car had to be left at the main road. The streets of the slum area were not wide enough for it. Mukundo’s heart sank as she led him through those stinky, narrow streets to a three-storied, dilapidated building. They climbed up the stairs and finally entered a house on the second floor. It was just a small room, that served as the bedroom, kitchen, dining as well as the living area. The painting he had given to her stood out as the only adornment the walls had. There was no furniture in the room, only a thin mattress covered with a clean, but old bedsheet. He could not see any bathroom. Everyone in that building, or at least that floor, must be sharing one. Even in his servant quarters, Piyali was used to much more comfortable living. And after marriage, it must have been better. What was going on here? Something drastic for sure. And she hadn’t told him! Hurt and anger surged through him at the same time. But he kept his outward reaction in control. Don’t let the monster rise in you, he told himself, not now, not before her!

“I will make some tea,” she said wanting to avoid discussion for as long as possible.

“We can get tea outside, if you need it. Sit down, Piyali. And tell me what is going on,” he seated himself on the mattress hoping that if he acted relaxed, she would relax too.

“I have left his house.”

“Your choice?”

She shook her head.

“How long has it been?”

“Little over a month.”

“Why didn’t you come home?”

She stood silent.

“Does Mashi know?”

She nodded.

“She asked you to keep away?”

She answered with a nod again.

“What the hell, Piyali,” he got up from the mattress and came near her, “Why did I not know? I may never have said it in so many words. But was it not understood that you could always come to me? In fact, you should have,” he emphasized ‘should’. “You owed that much to me,” he finally added. She knew all about him. She had read his diary. She had sent him the note asking him to pull himself together, showing that she cared and she was not disgusted.

“If I came to you,” she said in a quivering voice, “It would only have given credit to their accusation.”

“What accusation? What has happened?”

She shook her head, not wanting to talk.

“That won’t do. That won’t do at all. You have to talk to me.”

“Why did you come after me?” she started crying, “You shouldn’t have.”

“Why did I come after you?” he was offended, “You know very well why I did. And I didn’t come after you until I thought that you were settled in your own life, did I? Even though I had my doubts. But now? With this?” He pointed at the room with a sweep of his hands. “You are asking why I came after you? What would you do in my place? Don’t do this to me, Piyali. For God’s sake. Talk. Tell me what has happened. What accusation were you talking about? Did it have to do something with me?”

Her shoulders stooped. She was giving in to his insistence, even as she continued to cry. He held her and led her to the mattress. He made her sit on it and held her hands. “No matter what happens, till I am alive, you are not alone. I am sorry that I left you to your own devices all these months. I thought it was for your welfare. I was wrong. But don’t punish me for it, please. Talk to me.”

A blood donation camp was organized in the town. Piyali had wanted to donate and thankfully Pronab did not stop her. He went with her. The blood was to go in the blood bank only after testing it. There was an option for donors to receive the blood reports for free. Piyali had opted for it. When the report came, her life fell apart. She was HIV positive.

To be continued