Mish' Fiction

Sarah

“Not widowed or divorced.” Those had been his exact words about Protim. If half of it was true, why wouldn’t the other half be? He wasn’t divorced either. And so what if he had been? I couldn’t have sown the seeds of my married life on someone else’s divorced one.

‘It is your fault, you never bothered to ask him,’ the part of my heart that was dying to find an excuse for him complained.

‘That wouldn’t change the fact that you would be a sinner if you stayed with him,’ the other part said.

‘He could get a divorce even now,’ screamed the first.

‘Even worse, if you cause a divorce.’

The war of words continued, as I sat on the edge of my bed and the evening wore on. Some time well after midnight, the debate ended and the cruel, upright part won. I had no other option. I had to go away from him.

But I knew him for the passionate man he was. He would never let me go. I would have to lie to him and slip away. Still, better lie than sin.

I also felt faint by then. I hadn’t eaten anything since morning, and had not had a drop of water since I had come back late in the afternoon. I needed water. My head spinned as I got out of bed and opened the door. I let out a startled cry, when I realized that I was about to step on him. He was sitting sprawled on the floor, right outside my door.

—

Protim

I jumped to my feet as soon as I saw her. I must have drifted off into a fitful sleep, because I didn’t hear the door open.

“Sarah!”

“I need water.”

“Yes. Yes. And something to eat too. Let me take you to…” I made to take her arms.

“I can manage, Sir.” Sir? She had slipped back into her old ways. Had she given up on me already? Would she not even give me a chance to explain?

I let her walk ahead and followed her to the kitchen. She drew a glass of water from a pot and drank two glasses of it. Then she straggled over to the dining table and slumped on a chair.

“I do not deserve this, Sarah, but I still appeal to your kindness. You would hear me out, won’t you?”

She did not lift her exhausted eyes to me, but still nodded.

“Sunita – that’s her name. How odd that both your names should start with the same alphabet, because she was nothing like you. ”

Sarah

‘Probably Sarah is not my name,’ I thought to myself, ‘Probably Niharika is. Probably I wasn’t meant to be Sarah Jacob. Probably I wasn’t meant to tutor his daughter. Probably I wasn’t meant to meet him. It all went wrong in my life, from day one.’

“We met through, not surprisingly, our families. I was already thirty. Getting too old, my family pronounced, it was time to settle down. I gave in. Most of my friends were married, had kids; my life was getting lonelier and the days of youth when the idea of marrying and settling down looked laughable were over. My parents thought she would be the right daughter-in-law. I was supposed to decide in a couple of brief meetings, and I didn’t find anything objectionable in those, when we were usually seated within few meters of hordes of family members.  She was beautiful. I sometimes did wonder how she agreed to marry me. But then just congratulated myself on my good fortune. Probably I had made up in my intellect and personality, what I didn’t quite have in my looks.

“I was ecstatic and it lasted a few years. Then things changed. She was sullen and unhappy. We’d get into fight over practically nothing. It happens in all marriages, I was told. Have a baby, and you would be too busy to fight. I talked to her, almost begged her. She kept refusing, but one fine day she told me that she was pregnant. She looked happy enough about it and I was over the moon. Ananya was born, she had taken the looks of her mother and I was not complaining about it.

“But then things did not get better; in fact they started deteriorating even further, and now it worried me more because not only my happiness, but my daughter’s welfare was also at stake. Sunita hadn’t shown any interest in taking up a job or even voluntary work, when I had suggested it earlier, hoping it would keep her busy and happy. But now she would be away from home for hours, leaving Ananya to the aayah and servants. She would go ballistic if I as much as I tried to understand where she was going.  I cut down my teaching hours at the university to spend more time at home. While this helped me bond with Ananya, it did not help my relationship with Sunita. It brought home the realities that I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Drinking, drugs, gambling, adultery – what all should I tell you about, Sarah? It wasn’t a pretty picture.  Confrontation did not improve the situation. I was no good for her; she had married me under pressure from her parents, but she did not intend to let it stop her from enjoying her life. I was heartbroken – yes. But I was also old enough by then to see myself for the fool I had been. I had been living in a fantasy, romantic world of my own, while the real life, right under my nose, was taking its own course.

“I asked her for divorce, but she would not hear of it. If she divorced me, her parents won’t like it and she would not get any part of their money if they decided to disown her. Charade must be kept up. There was only so much I could take. How selfish could she be! I told her that I would drag her to the court for a divorce, and that I should have no problem in finding proofs of her adultery.

“You should have heard her laugh then, Sarah. I can see how sickening the tale is for you. You are too innocent for all this. I am sorry for bringing this upon you. But it’s too late to go back. Today you must hear. She laughed and told me that I did not need to go outside to find proof of her adultery. It was right in my home. She pointed and Anaya and sniggered, ‘All you have to do is order a DNA test. But remember, if you make adultery a ground for divorce, dear Daddy, she will have to be handed over to Mommy. She isn’t yours. Do you think you could have made a pretty creature like her?’

—

To be continued

Sarah

I was accosted by a large pot-bellied man as soon as I came out of the lab after going through general health checkup and giving a cheek swab.

“Saaraa?” he had a funny way of pronouncing my name, but I checked the urge to correct him.

“Yes?”

“Niharika. Your mother had wanted to name you Niharika.” His English was labored; he was obviously more comfortable in Hindi or Marwari.

Almost simultaneously I spotted the employee standing obeisantly at some distance. The man talking to me needed no introduction now.

“I have no father or mother; I am an orphan, Sir,” I didn’t stay to observe his reaction and walked to the employee instead, “If it matches, you can call me at the same landline number, when the time for donation comes. I should not be contacted otherwise.”

“God willing, it will definitely match, child.”

“I am not your child. My name is Sarah Jacob. Have a good day, Sir.”

“Let me arrange to have you dropped back.”

“My taxi is waiting.”

God forgive me for being vengeful, but it felt good. Oh yes – it felt good, to be able to dismiss these people without so much as a glance back.

“Saaraa wait,” the large man moved with surprising swiftness and stood tall before me, “Your work for Protim Roychowdhury?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

“None of your business.”

“Listen to me child. I am guilty of a lot of abominable acts, but I still can’t let you knowingly fall into a pit. That man is already married.”

“I know. I tutor his daughter.”

“And not widowed or divorced.”

“Thank you, for proving a second time in my life, just how disgusting you are. Stay away from me, or I will call for security.”

My rebuke to him hadn’t wanted for strength, but if he had intended spoil my enthusiasm about my upcoming wedding, he had succeeded in that. How odd it was that I had never talked to Protim about his first wife. I had just assumed that she was dead. Could it be otherwise? No! He wouldn’t do that to me. Oh God! If only I could fly into his arms right away and have all these aspersion blows away. But I must suffer several hours of road journey before that could happen. I couldn’t possibly discuss this on mobile he had so solicitously pushed in my hand as I was leaving.

—

Protim

It wasn’t her love or fidelity that I distrusted. How could I distrust that faithful, devoted creature? The weakness was in me. The darkness was in me. The horrible secret was mine. I had dismissed Chanda’s apprehensions, but that didn’t make them less potent. When it was too late, I knew that my impatience was my undoing. If only I had been willing to wait, and at least made myself legally eligible, she would have come around her religious convictions. But I wanted her. Not a few years later, but then. Love is not only blind, but foolish too. And when passion gets the upper hand in all the feelings that make love, foolishness starts bordering on dementia. I was demented. Oh! Who in their right mind would not have seen that?

But I wasn’t thinking of all this when I saw her back at my house. My only feeling was of relief and exuberance. She was back, yet again. She would be mine, forever. The wedding was in a week…

She willingly came into my arms, when I reached out for her. But there was a hesitation in her bearing.

“What’s wrong?” I had to ask.

“It’s silly, really,” she looked contrite. What for?

“Talk to me.”

“Yes. That’s what it is. I just need to hear it from you and then the notion would not even cross my head ever again. Ananya’s mother… Strange that we never talked about her. But she is dead, right? What was her name?”

Have you ever been dunked into a water tank without warning and kept in it until all the air has been let out of your stomach? If you have been, you would understand just what I was going through behind my stunned silence and blanched face.

Her face grew into a mirror of my own, when she realized that I hadn’t replied promptly and settled the matter for her. It was not good news, and she knew it.

I hadn’t been particularly nice and straightforward with her through the time I had known and courted her. I had laughed at her, had ridiculed her and had manipulated her. I had made her suffer through Debjani’s presence in my house, I had let her feel insulted, slighted and ignored. I had driven her to tears, all in my attempt to secure a place for me in her heart. When she was away visiting Father Jacob, I had promised myself that I would never torture her so and just beg her to accept my feelings. And yet, when she had come back, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from pushing her to the extreme, I had played with her feelings until she had been pushed in a corner and had to confess it all. It had worked out fine for me; I had her words before I opened my heart to her. But how she had suffered!  I ill-used her to get her. And yet now, when a little manipulation, a little lie could preserve her happiness, I could not get myself to say it. The trust in her voice, the devotion in her eyes, they didn’t let me lie and my tongue stayed stuck to the roof of my mouth. And through that cavernous silence of mine, the truth was revealed to her.

“She. Is. Alive. Your. Wife. Is. Alive.” She uttered each word slowly and distinctly as if she was unsure she would say them right.

—

To be continued

But not only was she not marrying me for money, she seemed positively repulsed by it. I had been dying to rid her of those two horribly drab dresses.  Now that I finally had the right to do it, she wouldn’t let me. She shrank away from the very idea of shopping or spending money.  I tried to sell her the idea in different ways. We could spend some time together away from home.  “Let’s take a walk. Shopping is hardly the way to spend time together. Besides, I don’t really need anything. Do you have to buy something for yourself?”

Giving up on the hope of her coming with me, I brought some sarees and unstitched dresses for her. But even sending her to the tailor was turning out to be a mountainous task. I finally had to threaten her rather boorishly.

“If I see you in brown or black ever again, I promise you I am going to take the dress off you. Literally!”

Sarah

He had hoped to scandalize me with a threat like that. But I knew what prompted it. He just couldn’t make sense of my discomfort with being pampered and that gnawed at him. But the more he tried to spend on me, the smaller I felt. After the wedding it would hopefully be a different matter. But I couldn’t change how I felt just then.

Still the crux of the matter was that things weren’t going well right now. He wanted to pamper me, spend lavishly on me, shower me with gifts; he probably also wanted me to look prettier, better dressed and whatever else he expected form his fiancée. It was time for me to overcome my ill-articulated hesitation and make him happy. So, I donned my laced, cream dress — which itself came as a surprise to him, “What have you been doing to yourself, Sarah? You wear such dull stuff all the time, that even thing simple thing is looking like a queen’s attire on you.” — and agreed to go to the town with him. Was he exulted? His childlike enthusiasm surpassed even that of little Ananya, who was also the part of the trip and received her own share of generous pampering from her father.

On my way back, he won’t hear of me wearing the dress I had worn to the town – my best till date. I used the store’s changing room to put on of the new ready-made salwar-kameez we had bought. I had never worn anything other than a dress before. I felt like my small frame had shrunk even further.

Was my discomfiture a sign from God? Of the things to come? In retrospect it is possible to see these connections. But at that time, I was more focused on ignoring and overcoming it.

—

Since my Bangalore visit I had known about my real family. They were rich and respected people. But knowing what they were and knowing the reason they had abandoned me had made things worse for me. Till I hadn’t known where I came from, all kinds of possibilities were open, and I was free to imagine something positive about it, although for most part I didn’t bother with it at all. But now that I knew, it made me feel even smaller. That was the reason I hadn’t told my employer, now my fiancé, anything about it. It couldn’t continue forever though. The call had come. They wanted to run some tests to figure out if my marrows matched and if I was medically fit to donate. And although I had refused to see my so called father or brother, I had agreed to help them through the person I had come to think of as the employee, the man who had left me on the church steps.

I had to go to Bangalore.

“Your family? Your real family? You know who they are?” I didn’t understand the deathly white turn his face had taken when I mentioned finding my family. I wasn’t sure what reaction to expect, but I had definitely not thought that it would scare him.

“What happened?”

“They want what from you?”

“I have a twin brother, who is ill and needs a bone marrow transplant. I am their best bet.”

“A brother? A family? You have known it for how long? You didn’t think it necessary to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to talk about it. And how does it matter?”

“How does it matter?” he paced down the room. Then he turned abruptly and by now the white of fear was replaced by the scarlet of anger on his face. “How does it matter? There is this entire clan waiting to take you away from me, and you ask me how does it matter?”

“A clan waiting for me? They had abandoned me on the day I was born. And not because they didn’t have money to raise me. But because I was a girl.”

“And now you have returned to save their son. Don’t tell me they aren’t throwing their arms, and doors, and fortunes open for you.”

I opened my mouth to make a heated reply; then closed it without saying anything.

Protim

It was what she didn’t say by closing her mouth and what she instead said through those questioning eyes of hers that brought me back to my senses. I had been driven insane by my insecurity.

“Sarah…”

“I don’t know what would be worse. Marrying for money, or marrying just to avoid desperate loneliness? ”

“Sarah, I am sorry love…”

“Love? Is it possible that I have agreed to marry you for love? Or is a poor orphan supposed to cling to anyone or anything that offers some company, even a lousy one, and copious money?”

“People don’t love me, sweetheart. I… I get scared.”

“And I? Do I love you?”

“Yes. Like nobody has ever loved me.”

“They are nothing to me. Nothing. If it was a stranger who could have been saved by my donating the marrow, you would not stop me from doing so, would you?”

“No. Go Sarah. Do what your kind heart bids you to do. Just… come back to me.”

“I am not going away from you. I love you.”

“That is what keeps me going.”

I kissed her on her cheeks. It was probably the first time I kissed her anywhere other than on her lips. My passion, it appeared, had been overwhelming every other emotion I felt for her. I needed to do better, I told myself.

“What is his name? Your… this boy’s father?”

“Rajesh Goenka.”

“Goekna!”

“Do you know him?”

“Would have run into him a club or at a party… ”

“Remember this. He means nothing to me. I haven’t met him and I have no plans of doing so. I am not meeting the patient either. I don’t need to.”

“When do you have to go?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I will book a taxi for you.”

“But…”

“I can’t come with you myself. And I am not letting you go in a bus. This is not up for question, my girl bride.”

—

To be continued

“Do you truly mean to marry me? And out of love? Not for the sake of pity or charity?”

“What would you have me do? You tell me, Sarah. Whatever I have tried to do to make you reciprocate my feelings seems to have backfired. So, now I come to you for counsel. Tell me what would you have me do to make you accept me.”

“Ask me, just ask me. But stay there. Stay afar and ask me.” I wanted to hear him when his proximity was not making me light-headed.

He sank down to his knees, out of sheer exhaustion and not for the sake of making a romantic gesture – that would have been so unlike him – “Will you marry me, Sarah Jacob?”

That was the end of me. I could not have held back even if Father Jacob, or the son of the God himself had appeared before me and asked me to do so. I walked to him, deliberately measuring my steps as I was afraid I would trip over something in my excitement.

“Yes. I will.”

He looked up at me and in that instant all his exhaustion melted away. He bolted upright and pulled me in an embrace so tight that I started struggling for my breath soon.

“Sorry. Sorry, my love. I just…” he loosened his grip when he heard me gasping for air. He looked at me for a couple of seconds and then attacked my lips. My virgin mouth could not have imagined a more violent kiss. He probed, demanded and I had no option but to give in. I had to remember to keep breathing through my nose, else I would have fainted.

He was aware of how ferocious he had been when he broke the kiss. “I should probably send you to Delhi after all. For a while at least. I am violent in love right now and I am afraid I will hurt you.”

I could think of nothing to say. No loving admonishments, no witty rejoinders. I couldn’t even meet his eyes and kept mine downcast.

“She is silent. And she is blushing. My feral cat. Crow has gotten her tongue. But for now, I don’t mind. I am happy. I am so happy that I am almost afraid of it. Are you? Are you happy Sarah?”

“Yes Sir,” I forced myself to speak for his sake.

“Protim. Protim is the name my bride-to-be.”

“Protim!” The name felt unfamiliar, but delicious on my tongue. I could get used to chanting that name, forgive me God! I was happy.

He kissed me gently then. Licking and grazing at my lips until I voluntarily opened my mouth to let him in. He explored it leisurely, giving me time to breathe every few seconds and he left me wanting for more, much more by the time he withdrew.

“I am tempted to sin,” he spoke in a hoarse voice heavy with desire, “But my God-fearing fiancée will hate me for that. I must arrange for a wedding quickly. But right now, we must go in. It’s getting chilly. Come. Come with me Sarah and never leave my side again.”

—

Protim

“So, you drive Debjani away by telling her about your little secret. But you want to marry Sarah?” Chanda had worked with our family for long, had seen me grown up and had left her beloved Kolkata to take care of my household. Her attempt at dissuading me from what she thought was wrong should not been such an oddity, but it was. Because she had never ever taken that tone with me. Despite her older years, she had always treated me as the master and given me the space and respect the position demanded. So, it took me a few moments to acknowledge the verbal outburst and prepare a response.

“You have a problem with Sarah?”

“I have a problem with you. It’s not right. Not for her. She must know…”

“Debjani did not leave because of my secret. She left because she thought I would not be rich enough because of that secret. Sarah does not care for that. There is nothing else that matters.”

“What if…”

“Gods are my witness that I am doing the right thing by her. Why should a friendless, poor orphan not have a loving home of her own? And she is one right choice I have made in years. If He does not let me do that, I defy the God and the men alike.”

“Sugarcoating is not going to change the reality. If you have such faith, tell her the truth and then see what happens!”

“That’s enough, Chanda. I heard what you had to say. Not another word on this. Especially not to Sarah. Remember that.”

Thank God that this country has so many different languages, some completely unintelligible to the speakers of others.  As I turned to leave, I realized that Sarah must have overheard parts of our conversation. Although her manners won’t let her linger around to hear it in entirety, and she had already hastened away from the room where we were, what really saved my day was that Chanda and I were conversing in Bengali.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry upon you. I just happened to pass that way… And Chanda was angry. Is something wrong?” she was uncharacteristically nervous when I caught up with her.

“No. Nothing you need to worry about anyway.”

“She.. she wanted you to marry Debjani?”

She had definitely heard the names. I decided to let her believe that that was indeed the problem. “Are you surprised?”

“No.”

“Does it trouble you?”

She looked away. “Yes. I wish I were a better match for you…”

“Do you know how much money I have?”

“What? No! And I am not…”

“You are not marrying me for money?”

“Of course not! Why would you say something like that?”

“Yes. It’s a good thing you are not a ‘better’ match for me, Sarah. Else that’s precisely what you would be doing.”

“But that’s what everyone thinks, right?”

I went forward, cupped her face and made her look into my eyes. “What really matters to you, my little fiancée? What I think? Or what everybody else thinks?”

A smile broke on her lips. The smile I could have killed for. I didn’t need her to speak out her answer. I had it. I had her.  Before I knew it happened, my lips had found hers, and she was responding feverishly. God! Hadn’t she grown into a terrific kisser already? And all the other things I yearned to teach her! But I must wait for the wedding. She won’t have it otherwise.

“Do you know how old I am for you,” suddenly I felt the need to confess at least one of my anxieties, “People will wonder what Protim Roychowdhury is doing with a girl bride!”

“Let them wonder.”

“Don’t you wonder, Sarah?”

“No. I don’t. Why should I? We don’t wonder about what has always been the way of our lives. Or what seems like that.”

We were even!

—

To be continued

“You won’t leave.”

“Yes. I will,” I stood abruptly and took a step or two away from him, “I am poor and ugly. I know my situation, but I am not a machine. I have feelings just like you, and I too have a heart that beats. It has its own little whims too. It won’t let me stay on a servant, as a nobody in your house. If I was even a bit prettier, if I hadn’t been cast away by my family as an infant, if I had a family to be proud of, respectable even if not rich, I wouldn’t have sat on the sidelines. I would have made you fall in love with me. I would have made it as difficult for you to part with me, as it is for me. But that is not so. And I can’t take this heart out of my body and still live. So, if I have to live, I must go away. And since I have to go away, why should I not tell you the truth? She is rich and beautiful. You are a match for her in prestige and in money. What is also true is that you are nowhere as handsome as she is beautiful. Still you are the one who is marrying down, not she. She is not equal to you in her intellect. She has neither your generosity, nor your openness of mind. I say this to you not as your employee, not as someone who is socially, economically and in every other earthly way inferior to you, but as a human being to another human being, as two people created by God with equal love in His heart, as two equal people. ”

“Two equal people. Yes, Sarah. Just that.” He also stood up, came close to me and gathered me in his arms. His lips found mine and I had to turn my face away.

“You are as good as married, Sir. I won’t be your mistress. Let me go.”

“Where to? Delhi?”

“Delhi or Timbaktu. How does it matter? I have spoken my mind. I can go wherever I want.” His arms were still around me and I struggled to free myself.

“Stay still for a moment, would you? You are like a bird that’s harming herself in a frantic attempt to escape the net.”

“I am not a bird, and there is no net that I am caught in. I am a free person, I have my independent will, and I will exercise it now and leave you.”

He did not respond, but did not let me go either. I had to finally give up struggling and stand still. As soon as I did that, he freed me.

“Don’t run away Sarah, not before giving me a chance. Let your will decide your future and my fate.  I offer myself, my life to you Sarah. It is up to you to take it, or discard it.”

“Are you so cruel that you would play these games with me now?”

“I am asking you to marry me, to be my wife, to share my life and to let me share yours.”

“You have already chosen someone else to be that.”

“You are not in a mood to believe anything, Sarah. Just stay still and silent for a while, will you? I will do so too. I need to gather myself together. I don’t want to make mistakes now.”

I could feel the chilly evening breeze on my flush skin and hot cheeks. Goosebumps rose all over my body. The birdsong, the unique birdsong of this house, of Hojukeri, of life, was on. And in listening to it I started weeping again. Silent tears defied my will and rolled down my cheeks. But I stayed still and silent just as he had asked. At last he spoke.

“Come to my side, Sarah and let us explain and understand each other.”

“I cannot come to your side. It’s not my place.”

“I ask you to come here as my wife.”

Why did he continue to mock me?

“Come to me, Sarah.”

“Your fiancée, the real one, stands between us.”

He strode towards me and gathered me in his arms again. “My fiancée, my bride and wife-to-be is here. In marrying her, I won’t be marrying down. She is my intellectual equal. Sarah, will you marry me? Please.”

I did not answer.

“You do not trust me at all?”

“It isn’t the first time you would be mocking me.”

“As a friend, yes – I have amused myself at your expense. What is the use of denying that? But I never meant disrespect, Sarah. I know how I appear, but I would not mock someone who was really an inferior. That would be an insult.”

“Ms. Mukherjee has your family’s approval.”

“Don’t you understand, Sarah? Did you yourself not point out all the reasons that I couldn’t possibly be in love with her? And if you must know the gory details, here they are. I have convinced her that most of my money is not really secure in my own hand. How I did that is something I don’t want to get into. And since she left, I haven’t heard from her or from my aunt. So much for my family. Why wouldn’t you listen to and believe me, Sarah? Me whom you know inside out by now. With all his crassness and lack of politeness and propriety. With all his insecurities and loneliness. Why wouldn’t you listen to me instead of trying to listen to those imaginary people you call my family?”

“You want me to believe that you truly love me? And that you have turned Ms. Mukherjee away because of me?”

“Damn Ms. Mukherjee. I was never going to marry her. Let’s not talk about her. But about you. You are a strange, unearthly creature Sarah. Poor, plain orphan or whatever you are, I love you and only you. I beg you to accept me. What would you have me do to make me believe you?”

“Let me look at your face.”

He let me go immediately and stepped back so that we could look each other in the eye. “Why?”

“I want to read your face.”

“Then do it quickly, girl. You will be the death of me with those faithful, but questioning eyes. I doubt you can read anything on a crumpled, scratched paper that my face must be. ”

He was agitated, his eyes were restless, and moist with tears held back with difficulty. He did look tortured. But I was scared still.

—

To be continued

Protim

I had returned from Mysore last night. The dinner I had come to looked forward to had been impossible to swallow. Yesterday she wasn’t sitting across from me and listening to me talk. Today  I aimlessly wandered around the plantation and I prayed; prayed like I had never done before. Let her come back to me and I would set everything right. No more games, no more manipulations. I would bare it all and beg her for her acceptance.

“Mr. Roychowdhury?” My breath caught in my throat. How could she appear without a sound? But as always, there she was as I turned around, wearing her brown dress. She had only two as far I could tell – one black and one brown. Unless she had the multiple dresses of same two colors sewn.

“Sarah!” There was something I had decided I had to do as soon as she came back. What was it? I was unable to gather my wits together. I was growing limp with relief. She was back. She was there. That moment was all that mattered. The next moment, when she could have disappeared as quietly as she came, or the next day, the next month, the rest of my life – none of it mattered.

“I am sorry, it took me longer to return.”

“You had left your mobile behind.”

“I forgot.”

I had assumed that it was deliberate, a message that she wasn’t coming back. An insecure man’s mind is a fertile one. It can conjure up believable reasons for most implausible things if those feed into the cycle of self-pity and insecurity he has fallen into. But a simple action that would decide the matter for him one way or the other eludes that fertile mind, so busy it is embellishing the imagined misfortunes. I could have called up at the orphanage, I could have driven down to Bangalore, I could have tried a thousand other ways to get in touch with her. But that mobile… Since the first time I had heard it ringing in the house after she had left, it had been mocking me, laughing at me, ridiculing my desires and dreams.

My exuberance on realizing that none of those misfortunes had been real was frighteningly violent. The mobile was left behind because of that simple human folly of forgetfulness. I could forgive her that. Heck! I could forgive her a murder or two if only she would…

“I am glad you are back. I thought…” Don’t say too much, I told myself. Nothing good could come from talking when my mind was so muddled up.

“I am not such a thankless creature, Sir. I won’t just disappear.”

“No. You are not.”

“Your guests have left?”

“They were here only for two weeks. They left.”

“To return soon, I hope. At least one of them…”

“To return?”

“Aren’t congratulations in order, Sir?” she smiled – a weak, worn-out smile, “I am not going to disappear on you. But I think it’s time I started looking for another job. Once your wife is here, a tutor may not be needed for Ananya.”

“My wife?”

“You might not even stay here. If you went back to Bangalore, or shifted to Mysore, she would have good schools.”

What had come upon her? How come she was yapping like that, without any provocation from me, and what exactly was she trying to convey? Had she rehearsed all this before coming?

“You are right. Once my wife is here, a tutor may not be needed for my daughter.”

“You are getting married soon, I think.”

“Soon. I hope.”

“Then I must find another job quickly and until then I hope I can stay here…”

“Yes. And I owe you to find another job for you, if you need one. I will do that. Would you like me to do that?”

“It would be very helpful, though I don’t want to trouble you…”

“There is this place in Delhi…”

“In Delhi?”

“Yes. In Delhi.”

“It’s too far.”

“Why should that matter to you? It’s not like you have family or friends here.”

“It’s too far.”

“Too far from?”

“From everything I have known. From Bangalore… From here…”

“You haven’t been here for long. And Father Jacob…”

“Father Jacob is dead, yes. And I haven’t been here for long. But I have still known this house, this plantation, Ananya, all the other people and…”

“And?”

Sarah

“And you!” I threw aside all caution and propriety. I had to go away. Why should I care? Why should I not unburden myself?

“Me! Yes. I don’t go to Delhi often. I haven’t been there in years and I have no reason to go there in future either. Once you are there, we’d hardly meet, if ever.  And Sarah, you would miss having a friend there, won’t you? Have we become friends, Sarah?”

“Yes Sir,” I didn’t add ‘the only one I have.’

“Friends who are about to separate. We should spend some time with each other, then, shouldn’t we? That’s what friends do. Come, walk with me. We’d sit somewhere quiet and spend some time together. To create a lifetime of memories”

We sat down at a spot of his choosing, I remembered to maintain my distance from him.

“I get a queer feeling sometimes, Sarah. That there is a thread. A thin, almost invisible one. But sharp as a razor. One end of it tied to my heart. And the other end is with someone else, tied to her heart probably. Should she go too far from me, that thread will snap. And it will cut across my heart and I will bleed myself to death. Do you understand that feeling? I guess not. You would go to Delhi and then forget about me.”

“That will not happen…” It was all very peculiar, but I was too grieved to notice it. I was a fully-blown balloon of emotions, ready to burst at the touch of a pin.  But at the same time, I was also a lifeless zombie. I could have been led anywhere by anyone, and I could have said anything to anybody.

“Do you hear this birdsong? I don’t know which bird it is. But I can recognize the song. You don’t hear in in Bangalore. Or Delhi. Probably there aren’t enough trees there. Or probably this bird doesn’t stay there. This place…”

“I wish I had never come to this place,” I screamed. The pin-prick had come. The balloon had burst. I broke into sobs.

“Because you are unhappy about leaving it?”

My emotions were running wild. They had no care for propriety, manners, or even the humiliation I would afflict on myself by talking my heart out.

“Yes. I am unhappy about leaving a place that has treated me with dignity, leaving people who have respected me, leaving Ananya who has given me an unconditional love of a child, and leaving you . You, who I have come to respect, whose company stimulates me intellectually, in whose presence I don’t feel suffocated, but constantly challenged to improve. Yes. I am unhappy about leaving you. I have to leave though. And it is like looking at a certain death in eyes.”

“Why do you have to leave?”

“Why? Why do I have to leave? You don’t see it, do you? How can you? What right does a penniless orphan have to feel insulted when a rich and beautiful woman from a respected family becomes your wife and the mistress of your house? Why shouldn’t I be happy pandering to her whims? Why shouldn’t I be grateful for my salary, and the roof over my head, while she claims you all for herself. Yes – I have no right. And still – I will feel insulted, I will suffocate and I will die a thousand deaths each day.  So, whether you think that I should leave or not, I will leave.”

—

To be continued

As I approached his study, I heard Debjani’s chatter. I didn’t want her around, but I dreaded meeting him alone too. This was the best I would have, I thought to myself as I knocked on the door.

“Yes?” his voice was gruff, in contrast to Debjani’s silvery tongue.

He bolted out of the chair as soon as he saw me entering.

“Sorry for disturbing…”

“What is it?” he cut through my preliminaries.

“I need to go…”

“What?”

“I mean, for a few days. To see Father Jacob. He is unwell.”

“Is he?”

“You think I would lie about something like that?” I couldn’t help getting annoyed. “You can ask Kaveri. She was the one who received the call.”

“I don’t have to ask anyone. When do you want to go?”

“Right now.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know…” I saw his eyebrows rising and realized that my reply was not helping his suspicions, “I would like to come back in three or four days, but if he is unwell and wants me there…”

“Very well. I will drop you to the bus stop…”

“I will find someone to drop me. Some bus or…”

“It is better to get a bus from Madekeri. You are more likely to find a seat. And I said I will drop you. Go, pack your stuff.”

“I wouldn’t mind a drive either,” Debjani threw in her weight, “I would come with you, Protim. You won’t have much luggage, would you Sarah?”

“No Ma’am. Just a bag.”

He opened his mouth, but closed it without saying anything. It had looked like he would refuse Debjani, but then changed his mind. It made sense. It won’t give the right message to his fiancée, if he insisted on accompanying me alone to Madikeri.

“Annie might want to come too,” he told me, “Ask her.”

“Yes Sir.”

—

Protim

I had never understood the metaphor of something slipping out of your hand like sand better than on that day, on our ride to Madekeri bus stop. On the way to the main road, at a spot about four kilometers from Hojukeri, I found myself pressing the breaks abruptly.

“Oh my God! What happened Protim?”

“Daddy! I could have fallen off.”

Debjani and Annie screamed in chorus.

Sarah was also shaken, but she did not say anything. Our eyes met for a moment in the rear-view mirror. And I knew that she recognized the spot too. This was where I had met her first with a broken jeep. I never could redeem myself since then, could I?

Annie’s affection for Sarah surprised me yet again. She kept badgering her to return early all through our ride and even when we waited on the Madikeri bus stand. Sarah herself looked close to tears, as she hugged my daughter one last time before stepping on the bus. For me, though, she didn’t even have a spare glance. She did not forget her manners. She thanked be adequately for granting her leave and for dropping her. But she did not meet my eyes even as she spoke.

Had I lost her?

—

Sarah

Why did I ever wish for a normal life? Inch by inch, my previous simple life from the orphanage days was crumbling down and the normal life was showing its true, complicated colors.

Father Jacob was breathing his last, willing himself to wait, just for me. He asked to talk to me alone as soon as I reached there.

“It is not for me to take this decision, child,” he told me, “Your real family has been asking about you.”

“You know them?” Shock couldn’t have adequately described what I felt.

“I didn’t always. But sometime back, someone came enquiring. About a child they had left… Everything matched.”

I was tongue-tied for a long minute. Did I want to know any further? What would I hear? Why was I abandoned? Could it be any good?

“You may not be ready to hear it all, Sarah,” Father Jacob spoke with difficulty, “But I don’t have time. I must tell you. I am sorry about that, my child.”

“Father. You are unwell. We can talk later…”

“No. No. Time is what I don’t have. You must listen. And you must be brave. Can you do that for me, Sarah?”

“Yes Father.” He deserved to unburden himself in his last moments.

My family was rich. A fairly well-known Marwari business family in Bangalore. The kind who want sons to carry their legacy forward. My father’s elder brothers had too many daughters already. I had a twin brother. So, when I was born they decided to keep only the son and… My mother was told that her daughter was still born. A trusted servant of the family was entrusted to dispose me off. And it was he who had come looking for me now.

“Why?” I willed myself not to choke on my words.

“Your brother needs a bone marrow transplant. They have tried hard to find a matching donor, but failed. You are their best hope.”

“My brother?”

“Your bitterness is understandable, child. But do remember that he was innocent is all this. And even for others. Forgiveness…” his voice trailed as I looked sharply at him. Then I felt guilty.

“Forgive me my weaknesses, Father. You know how I am.”

“You are all right, Sarah. And I know you would do the right thing. Open the cupboard, and bring me the diary from the right drawer.”

I did as he bid me to do. He leafed through the diary with difficulty and showed me the page with their contact details.

I copied it on a paper and kept the diary back in its place in the cupboard. Then I sat beside Father Jacob in silence for a long time. He was content to let me sit.

“Forgiveness,” I spoke finally, “That is what you would expect of me, Father, won’t you?”

“Yes. Although there is more for you if you go back to them than just peace of mind,” he smiled weakly, “You have a rich family, Sarah. You will never want for anything.”

“I am not going back to them, Father. I had no say when they threw me out. But I will have a say when they want me back. Whatever I do, I will do it on my own terms now. And no! I am not going back to them.”

“I expected no less from you, child. But forgiveness is still…”

“Charity they shall have, if God has made me capable of that. I hope the marrow matches.”

—

To be continued

Things between me and Debjani did not improve. It must have been written in stars that we should be at loggerheads. Two days after her arrival, Mr. Roychowdhuri had to go away to settle some plantation-related work. He had taken one of the plantation vehicles with him and his jeep was left behind. He was to be away only for a few hours, but a neighbor’s child did not wait for him to come back before he fractured his arm while playing in the fields. The boy’s parents rushed to our house to seek help. He needed to be taken to the hospital and no vehicle was available.

“Protim is not here. We can’t do anything,” Debjani declared.

“But his jeep is here. Do you know how to drive it, Uncle?” I asked the neighbor.

His brother did.

“You can’t just give his jeep away,” Debjani was incredulous and furious.

I had the same scruples, but the child was howling in pain and her utter disregard for the his condition drove me to stubbornness. “Let him decide what I can or cannot do in his house,” I told her and gave the keys to the child’s father.

But as soon as they had driven the child away, the dread set in. I had overstepped my boundaries. It wasn’t for me to decide. I didn’t run the house. How good a driver the boy’s uncle was? What if something happened to the jeep? What would Debjani tell him? What would he think of me? What would he do to me? Would he be mad enough to throw me out?

As the time for his return neared, I grew more frantic with worry. Finally I decided confess my mistakes to him before anyone else opened their mouths.

He frowned when he saw me waiting where the mud-road leading to the house met the main road. He got down from the vehicle and sent others away.

“Is something wrong?”

I gulped hard. “Poorna, your neighbor’s child, was hurt. They needed to take him to the hospital. I gave them the keys to your jeep. I am sorry.”

“If the child fine?”

“It was a broken arm. But I don’t know. They aren’t back yet.”

“You were waiting here to tell me about the child’s broken arm?”

“About your jeep. I just… couldn’t refuse. His uncle is driving it.”

He laughed. His crude, loud, unselfconscious laugh. And this time I could not help smiling.

“Come. Walk back with me.”

On reaching home, he made quite a show of calling the father, asking after the child’s health and offering them any help they may need. The effort was hilarious because of his broken Kannada. But it settled the matter. Debjani never opened her mouth.

Protim

It was insane what I was doing. Juvenile, immature. But I was desperate. I took leave from the university and spent the entire week at home. I flirted shamelessly with Debjani, much to my aunt’s delight. But she wasn’t the one I was concerned with. I made sure that Sarah was around us whenever I complimented Debjani, or said something to make her laugh. Annie was a willing, though unaware accomplice. All I had to do was to ask her to be around me, and she made sure to bring her favorite Sarah Auntie along. If Sarah tried to escape, I made sure Annie won’t let her. Despite her best efforts at avoiding eating with us I made her have all her meals with us at the table. My aunt scowled whenever she saw Sarah at the table, but she knew better than to say anything.

Despite my keeping a hawk-eye on her, she slipped away that day. Something caught in my throat when I realized that. Could I have overdone it? Had my guests insulted her? Had I? I excused myself and discreetly went upstairs to her room. It was unlocked as usual, but she was not inside. I dashed out of the back door into the plantation and called her name out loud. I won’t be heard inside the house, but if she was there, strolling in the overgrown grass, she couldn’t have helped hearing me. I moved about frantically until I heard a soft sob. As I looked in the direction of the voice, I knew where she was. I made my way towards her. She must have heard me approach, because she suddenly stood upright. It was the same spot where I had met her on her first morning in this house. She had wiped her tears, but her swollen, red eyes betrayed her crying.

“Sarah. What happened?”

“Nothing. I was feeling suffocated, so I decided to take a stroll.”

“And you didn’t think it necessary to tell me that you were going out?”

“Do I need you permission to step out of the house now?”

“I was worried, Sarah.”

“Don’t be. I am an adult. I can look after myself.”

“Yeah? Why did you run away then?” What was I doing? I had to woo her, not drive her away with my boorishness.

“Mr. Roychowdhury!” she hissed and gave me dagger eyes.

The approach of plantation workers at that moment interrupted our little tete-a-tete, though. The interruption also brought her back to her usual self and she strode towards the house to avoid further confrontation.

“We are not done yet,” I was talking to her back, “I am not going to create a scene in front of my workers or staff. But we are not done yet.”

She heard, she did not stop, she did not even look back!

—

Sarah

What did he think he was doing? He was going to marry Debjani. Chanda had told me as much. Mrs. Roychowdhury was her trusted source. Why did he have to torture me so by not letting me stay away? Was he trying to prove something to me? Had he found out how I felt about him? Did he want to exorcise me out of my impossible dreams? Well, he didn’t need to. I wasn’t dreaming. I just wanted to stay away!

As if my employer had not created enough upheaval in my life, I was informed by Kaveri that I had a call from Home of Hope. Father Jacob was unwell, probably breathing his last, and he had been asking for me. Whatever else happened in my life, nothing was more important than Father Jacob. My life, my sense of identity, my very existence was linked with him. I had to go to Mr. Roychowdhury and ask for his leave to go to Bangalore.

—

To be continued

“Daddy. We should go for picnic today.”

“Picnic? Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“I don’t know where anywhere is. Who gave you the idea anyway?”

“Sarah Auntie.”

“Sarah Auntie?”

“Actually Sir,” I had to explain. He would think that I was trying get to him through the child, “She saw a picnic on some TV show. She was after me to go for it. I wasn’t sure… So, I told her to wait until you came and ask you instead…”

“Hmm… So, you don’t want to go?”

“I do… I mean no… I… Basically I don’t mind.”

“All right. Then you have my permission. Take her and go for picnic,” he went back to his newspaper.

“But that would be boring.”

“Eh?”

“Annie is with me all the time anyway. Going with me would be boring for her. She would like to spend time with you.”

“Yes Daddy. You must come.”

He sighed audibly and put the newspaper down. “Fine then. Let’s go. The three of us. I have a spot in mind. Have Chanda pack us lunch and snacks. Also get whatever Annie will need from Kaveri.”

“Yes Sir.”

—

Protim

I had done a good job of pretending that I agreed to the picnic only for Annie’s sake.  But for how long could I keep my feelings under wraps? That woman was driving me mad. At first I assumed it was my loneliness. Anybody decent coming into that lonely life was likely to make me feel that I was falling in love. I had taken up the job in Mysore not only for the sake of professional fulfillment, but also to keep away from her.  I had to be amongst other people, my intellectual equals, to get a perspective on who I was and where she stood in my life. But the distance had done nothing to quell my fascination with her. I craved for her company more than ever. What was I to do? Did she have any inkling of what she was doing to me? I stole a glance at her while driving. There she was! The very picture of poise and propriety. Utterly unaware of the havoc she was wreaking. How I would have liked to pull up the jeep, chew up those lips of hers and crush her in my embrace until she had no option but to give in. But… But it wouldn’t do. If my Gods had given me more tact, a sweeter disposition, a handsomer face, I might have been able to seduce this daughter of Jesus. I had none of those, and yet I had to seduce her. How?

—

Sarah

The riverside appeared to be a favorite spot of his. “I like this place” was all he had said. But he wasn’t one for giving any kind of extreme expression to his emotions. By then I knew him enough to know what “I like this place” meant. It was here that he came to contemplate, or to run away from, whatever complications his life had. It was here that he prayed for peace. How I yearned to take his head in my lap, to ask him to close his eyes and run my fingers over them. How I wished to assure him that he was a good man and whatever it was that bothered him would be set all right.

But he wouldn’t care for those niceties, would he? In this lifetime, I wasn’t going to get a chance to pull his head in my lap!

He was intent upon relieving me of my duty to entertain Annie during the picnic. He played whatever games she wanted to play and asked me to relax and rest. I made use of his generosity and sat at the riverbank with my feet dangling in water. The stream was narrow and gentle there, and cold water was soothing on my skin. I had my back to the father and the daughter, who were playing a board game under a tree. It was better for my nerves, and my job security, if I didn’t stare at him all day long. I prayed for my peace of mind, and his, while I sat there.

“Do you like it here?” I would have been startled, if I hadn’t been aware that he was no longer chatting with his daughter. He had left her with a picture puzzle and I had heard his footsteps as he approached me.

“It’s beautiful,” I replied, but did not look back. I dared not meet his eyes. For some reason, tears were threatening to burst out of my own.

“Not just this… I mean this place, this job, the people…”

I forgot to breathe for a moment. For all his crude and rough exterior, he cares! I took a deep breath and brought my wayward feelings under control. I had to look him in the eyes and tell him. I pulled my feet out of water, stood up and turned to face him.

“You are very kind, Sir,” I hoped my voice was steady, “To me. I more than like it here. I am… I am happy here.” Afraid of saying more than was appropriate I immediately walked away from him to go to Ananya. Did I feel his gaze at me because I wanted to feel so, or was he really following me with his eyes?

—

Chanda was excited to be welcoming Mr. Roychowdhury’s paternal aunt in the house. The two women had known each other, when Chanda served at Roychowdhury house in Kolkata. Chanda was hungry for gossip and happy to have it in her mother-tongue. Accompanying Mrs. Roychowdhury was Debjani Mukherjee, her sister’s daughter, whom my employer introduced to me himself.

“Oh come on, Protim,” she exclaimed, “Isn’t Debjani a mouthful. How many times have I told you to call be Debi.” He responded with a smile, an almost hospitable social smile that I had never seen on him. Something pierced through my heart, but I knew it had no right to bleed.

“This is Sarah. Sarah Jacob. Annie’s tutor,” he continued the introduction.

“Tutor? No wonder, she looks the studious kind,” Debjani grinned.

If she meant to be derisive, I decided not to be oblivious of it and put on my best smile for her. “Welcome Ma’am. Is this your first time in Coorg?”

“First time in South India itself. And I am terrified. I have heard that Chanda has gotten into the habit of making idli-dosa all the time. I might have to retrain her.”

“Idli-dosa is not something to be eaten all the time, not even by South Indians, Ma’am,” I shouldn’t do this; I was aware of it even as I was speaking, but I just could not hold back. Why did Debjani inspire such bitterness in me within a few minutes of our first meeting? “There is much, much more to South Indian cooking. But I am sure Chanda Auntie has not forgotten her hospitality. She will cook what you like.”

Debjani whistled. “Ooooo. That’s one fiery teacher, Protim. Where did you find her?”

My employer fidgeted, but did not say anything.

“In an orphanage,” I looked not at her, but at him, as I answered in his stead; then turned to her, “Have a good day, Ma’am. You must be tired after the journey. Please take rest.”

—

To be continued

“Yes Sir.” I wasn’t going to haggle over a couple of paintings drawn in spare time.

“There was something…”

“Yes Sir?”

“I will be away for three days a week from now on.”

I stayed silent.

“You don’t seem to care about the reason. But…”

“Why would you say that?”

“You didn’t even ask why.”

“I didn’t want to be intrusive.”

“Ah! Propriety. If propriety could be sold in market, you’d be a millionaire by now, won’t you be?”

“Propriety is never up for sale.”

“No. It’s not,” a visible smile softened his features.

“Why would you be away?” I asked irritably.

“I have taken up a job at Mysore University. Three days a week, I will stay there and take classes. Monday to Wednesday. I needed to tell you because when I am away you would be Annie’s guardian.”

A thousand questions swarmed in my head. Why the job? If he wanted to continue working, why had he shifted to this godforsaken village in the first place? Bangalore was definitely a better place to be at. But having made a case for propriety just a while back, I dared not ask him anything. I quietly accepted the responsibility he had put on my shoulders.

—

Protim

Ananya didn’t take much time in adjusting to my absences. She and Sarah grew closer. Before long she started looking up to Sarah to take care of parental duties even when I was at home. When she didn’t feel well she would seek Sarah and would sleep with her. When she needed someone to play a game with her, or to read her a story, she went to Sarah.

They were playing a board game when I came home one Wednesday night. Ananya jumped at me and demanded her gifts. Sarah had looked on, smiling, patient as ever.

“All right. Let me catch my breath and let Manjunath bring my stuff from the car.”

“What have you brought for me?” Anaya demanded.

“It won’t take more than five minutes for you to find out.”

“What have you brought for Sarah Auntie?”

I was caught unawares. Sarah’s smile disappeared as a blush of embarrassment crept up on her cheeks.

“Sarah Auntie? Why? Was I expected to bring a gift for her?”

“Why not? You have brought me gifts every week, but never for her.” Unlike Sarah, her student was unabashed.

“Do you like gifts Ms. Jacob? Were you expecting one?”

My leg-pulling brought her wits back. She didn’t hesitate in replying. “Who doesn’t like gifts? But I had no reason to expect one, nor a claim on one. Ananya’s understanding is, of course, limited about this.”

“Hmm… There… That’s your gift. Take it and run along to Kaveri Auntie. I need to rest,” I sent Ananya to her aayah.

Sarah also made to leave.

“I didn’t ask you to leave.” Damn. Couldn’t I be more tactful?

“I… I thought you wanted to take rest…”

“I am yet to have my dinner. Have you had yours?”

She shook her head.

“I hope the dinner is ready.”

“I think so.”

“I will be there at the dinner table in five minutes.”

—

“So, you don’t think I should have brought you a gift?” I asked as I picked at my food.

“Why should you?” she didn’t eat as hungrily any longer as she had done in the initial days of her stay at my house.

“But if I got one, would it be wrong?”

She looked puzzled. I pretended not to notice her gaze and kept eating.

“Would it?” The best way to fight awkwardness was to be a jerk and keep insisting on answer to an ill-framed question!

“Mr. Roychowdhury. I have been brought up in an orphanage. I am not exactly adept at the subtleties of social behavior. Why would you pose a question like that to me? You yourself would know the answer better, won’t you?”

A bile suddenly rose in me despite myself. I laughed. “If I knew the ‘subtleties of social behavior’, you think I would have been holed up with you at this house in the middle of nowhere.”

“I hope you are not expecting me to teach you social behavior. The best I can do is teach Mathematics, English or Drawing to your daughter. That’s the limit of my abilities.” She was angry!

“Have you never received a gift?” I refused to take the bait. I would not acknowledge that she was angry.

“I have known those as charity. People trying to unburden themselves by… I don’t want any more of those.”

“Too bad!” I fished out a mobile phone from my pocket, “I already got you one.” I held out my hand for her to take the phone from it.

“What for? I don’t need this.”

“I do. I want to talk to you… about Annie’s progress when I am not around.”

“There is a phone at home.”

“Not convenient enough. Now take it. It’s an order from your employer, if you must be persuaded.”

“But… I don’t have money to pay the bill.”

“When you get a boyfriend, in good faith ask him to pay the bill. Until then I don’t think you will use it so much that I can’t afford to pay it.”

She flushed.

“And for God’s sake. There is no social situation here,” I said when she did not volunteer to take the mobile, “It is not charity. Just work!”

—

Sarah

I tried my best to steady my hand as I reached out to get the phone. But they betrayed me. I drew away my hand rather quickly.

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a gift.”

—

I was happy that Ananya kept me busier than before. Because, to my surprise, Mr. Roychowdury’s absence had created an aching void in my life. When he was around, I felt active, challenged. He kept me on my toes. He would appear from nowhere all of a sudden and start a conversation that would need me to keep all my wits about me. Earlier I used to think that all he did was annoy me with his moodiness. But I realized that I had come to cherish even his banal bantering like calling me a ghost. I looked forward to his return on Wednesday nights as eagerly as Ananya did. But while she was free to express her feelings, I had to restrain myself. I couldn’t look anxious before he came, nor appear jubilant after he did.

And I had started looking forward to his dinner-time conversations. Only four-days a week now. He was still as moody as ever. He could still be crude and crass. How abominable it was that he should turn the conversation about mobile bill to an imaginary, future boyfriend for me. But I had come to like even his coarseness. With him, there were no sugarcoated talks about the mercifulness of Jesus, goodness of mankind or the ultimate sanctum waiting for us. With him, it was only cold, hard, harsh truth. Bitter, sarcastic, gentle or direct, he spoke the truth!

—

To be continued