Mish' Fiction

“What’s going on?” There was a crowd gathered outside the department’s building when Rupali reached there.

“Murder. Or suicide. I don’t know,” someone from the crowd informed her.

“What?” she ran inside. An entire wing was cordoned off. It included both her lab and Paritosh’ office.

She spotted Paritosh and pushed through the crowd to reach him. He looked distressed. “Where did it happen?” she asked him.

“In my office,” he tried hard, but his voice quivered.

“What? How?”

“I have no idea, Rupali. The door was open when I came this morning. Varun had jumped out of the window. Or had been pushed. Can’t say.”

She noticed him clenching and unclenching his fists. He was nervous! She took one of his hands in hers. He was startled. But she did not let go.

“It will be all right,” she said.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Do you want to go home?” she asked.

“I am not sure. I might be needed here. Police, students, media–”

“Okay.”

They stood there, unnoticed among other faculty members and students, while policemen scuttled in and out of the crime scene. Paritosh’ phone rang after a while. It was the director of the institute.

“I will take it outside,” he told Rupali and went away.

Rupalit grew worried when Paritosh did not come back for almost fifteen minutes. She called him. He picked up after a few rings.

“Dr. Khanna. Where are you?”

She heard a sigh before he spoke, “In the park. Behind the department building.” It was a well-maintained, but hardly visited park.

“I am coming there.”

—

“What happened?”

“You should go back to your hostel, Rupali. This is hardly a day to do any work.”

“Who is talking about work? What did the director say? Why didn’t you come back?”

“Let it be, Rupali. I will handle it.”

“I am not moving an inch from here until you tell me.”

“I am a suspect in the case.”

“What? That is ridiculous.”

“It’s not. It happened in my office.”

“So what! When did it happen?”

“Last night according to the provisional forensic assessment.”

“Were you even there?”

“No.”

“Then tell them.”

“Police respects the boundaries of an educational institution. If the director clears me of suspicion, then they won’t pursue that line of enquiry.”

“And?”

“The director tells me that he needs some concrete proof, or a witness to show that I was not in the department.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing. He advised me to not say anything hastily and prepare for a possible interrogation.”

“Just call the woman you were with yesterday evening at The Landmark Hotel.”

Paritosh looked alarmed, “How do you know?”

“I was there.”

“How come?”

“I was not stalking you. One of my maternal uncles was in town. I had booked a room for him there and I met him for dinner.”

“You must keep this to yourself, Rupali.”

“Why?”

“I can’t involve her in this?”

“Why not? What is more important to you right now? Avoiding a little marital discord or getting out of this horrible mess?”

“Marital discord? What are you– Oh!” he fell silent.

“Call her.”

“I can’t. It is not about me. It is about her.”

“Right!” Rupali walked away with clenched teeth.

Paritosh buried his head in his hands. What mess had he gotten himself into?

—

Rupali recalled the last night. She was at The Landmark Hotel with her Uncle. He had a late-night flight to catch and was in the city for a few hours. So, Rupali had booked a room for him to rest before his flight. They had come to the restaurant of the hotel for dinner where she had spotted Paritosh. He was with a woman. In her late 20s or early 30s, lean and fair. Rupali saw Paritosh comforting and consoling her. He even gave her a hug before they started their dinner.

She had felt incredibly jealous. It made no sense. Even if everyone else was right, and she was in love with him, she knew he was a married man. She had never felt jealous of Amrit. So, why now? Why seeing him with another woman was making her so jealous? Had she subconsciously assumed that if there was to be another woman in his life, it would be her?

She had returned late after dropping her Uncle off at the airport. Then she had tossed and turned in her bed for a long time. Only in the wee hours of morning her exhaustion had taken over her mental anguish and she had drifted off to sleep. She could not get up in time after that and had been late in reaching her lab, by when Paritosh was already in this mess not of his making. Despite the enormity of the situation, his unwillingness to call that woman as a witness strengthened her suspicions about their relationship even further.

Presently, Rupali sighed and toyed with her mobile. Finally, she made up her mind and made a call, “Kaku. This is Rupali. I need your help right away. Please speak to the commissioner of police…”

When she returned to the park after making the call, Paritosh was no longer there. She called him, but he disconnected. He sent a message immediately though, “In the director’s office.”

—

To be continued

Paritosh had been restless over the weekend. He had scolded Rupali for being unreasonable, but the hurt and disappointment in her eyes haunted him now. ‘It’s not a big deal,’ he kept telling himself, ‘She was indeed being a brat. Besides, she wouldn’t hold a grudge against me. That’s not what she is like.’ But he continued to feel miserable. Several times, he almost dialed her number, but checked himself in time. Calling her made no sense and it would be inappropriate.

Rupali found him doodling on a paper, when she came to his office on Monday morning. “What are you worried about?” she asked, knowing well what the doodling meant.

“Nothing,” he replied with a sigh, “The submission deadline for MT journal is coming close. We need to finish things quickly–”

“I have already run the results through Meteor and have forwarded you the results.”

“You have?”

“Yes. I sent you a mail last night.”

“Looks like I missed it. Let me check.”

“The improvements are quite good. It should get us an acceptance.”

“So it seems,” Paritosh mumbled as he peered at his screen after downloading the file she had sent, “Good. Good work, Rupali.”

“Thanks. Shall I start finalizing the paper?”

“Yes. By when do you think you can finish writing it?”

“Tomorrow afternoon? You will have enough time to review it, I hope.”

“Yes. Ample time.” With any other student, Paritosh would have added at least three to four days to the time they estimated to do the work. But with Rupali he didn’t need to do that. If she said so, she would send the paper the next day. Then he would have until the weekend to review and correct it for the submission.

“Okay then,” she got up to leave.

“Rupali,” he stopped her.

“Yes, Dr. Khanna?”

“Umm… If you see Suhas, can you please ask him to meet me?” Paritosh referred to another Ph. D. student of his.

“Sure. If I see him that is!” Rupali grinned drawing a smile from Paritosh. Rupali and Suhas were two extremes. If Rupali was one step ahead of Paritosh is doing her work, Suhas would often not even see him for weeks.

She made to leave again and was stopped by him again, “Rupali.”

This time, she just looked at him questioningly.

“I am sorry,” he finally spoke, “I was very rude to you the other day.”

“But I thought I had to say sorry,” surprise and confusion were evident on face, “Why are you apologizing?”

“You were just being yourself. I know that very well. So, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

“Being myself? You mean I act like a brat all the time? That isn’t much of a compliment,” Rupali smiled sadly.

“You don’t ‘act’ like a brat. You are a brat,” Paritosh chuckled as he said that, “And that isn’t a bad thing with you. Being every thing else that you are, it actually makes you very special.”

“I see. Not that I understand.”

“It’s okay. You are not upset, are you?”

“No. But if you think all that you just told me, why did you get annoyed in the first place?”

“I was not in a great mood. I told you I had come back for some work. I was with one of my Uncles yesterday. He is alone. None of his kids are in India. He is facing some issues related to the land records. You know how messed up those are in our country.”

“Can I help?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean my family is in real-estate business as well. They would have the right contacts.”

“Oh! Thanks, Rupali. But we don’t need to pull that string right now.”

“Fine. But let me know if you need–”

“Sure. If required, I will ask you.”

—

Rupali saw Suhas in the lab later in the day.

“Dr. Khanna wants to meet you, Suhas,” she told him.

“Why? You aren’t writing enough papers for him?”

“I can write papers for him, all right. But he is not the one who needs his Ph. D. You are. And you have to write your own papers.”

“You will make one difficult Ph. D. guide, Rupali. You are more difficult than Paritosh.”

“And how exactly is pulling my leg going to help you?”

“Yaar Rupali. Listen to me. Do you know why I am doing a Ph. D.?” Suhas sat down next to her and spoke in a conspiratorial tone.

“No,” she whispered mimicking his tone, “I don’t know. But I have been wondering about it. Why are you inflicting this pain on yourself, Dr. Khanna, the department and the mankind in general?”

“Because,” he whispered back, “My parents think that Ph. D. is another degree that can help me get a better job and a higher dowry.”

“I see.”

“Rupali. You are my friend, right? Please help me.”

“By writing papers for you?” she raised her eyebrows.

“No. Just ask Paritosh to give me a Ph. D. I promise not to enter academics and inflict any pain on future generation of students. I won’t even take dowry, I promise.”

“Of course, it is that easy. I ask Dr. Khanna and you will get your Ph. D. Why not?”

“If he finds a way to do it without creating any issues, he would be happy to let go of all his Ph. D. students,” another lab mate of theirs chipped in.

“Huh?” Rupali did not understand him.

“Except you, obviously.”

“And he will make do with one student?”

“He hasn’t taken anyone in since you came.”

“You guys are crazy. I don’t think I can work here. I am going to my room.”

“Arr… Rupali… Listen…”

But she picked up her bag and left. Her labmates laughed in amusement.

“What are the names of Sujeet Saxena’s two children?” someone shouted.

“LC Saxena and RC Saxena,” everyone else replied in chorus.

“Why does Rupali Banerjee call her advisor Dr. Khanna?”

“Because ‘unka naam nahin lete’.”

Another round of laughter followed before everyone went back to their work.

—

Rupali, Suhas and other graduate and undergraduate students working with Paritosh were gathered at his house. It was an yearly ritual for Paritosh to invite all his students to his home for dinner. Two of the female undergraduate students had not been able to make it. So, Rupali was the only female student in the group.

After spending some time with her fellow students, she slipped into the kitchen as a courtesy.

“Can I help, Ma’am?” she asked Amrit, who was busy giving instructions to a cook and a maid.

“Don’t bother. You are Rupali?”

“Yes. I was here last year too.”

“Is it? I am sorry. I know your name, of course. But I didn’t remember your face.”

“No issues. You can’t be expected to remember so many names and faces when you meet them only once a year.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

“Looks like the cook can take care of the stuff here. Why don’t you come out and join us for a bit?”

“No. No. What will I do there? You will be talking about computers and work. You should go back. The food will be ready shortly.”

“Amrit. Can you send some more pakoras–” Paritosh came to the kitchen and stopped in his tracks on seeing Rupali there. “Rupali. What are you doing in the kitchen?”

“She came to help me,” Amrit said appreciatively.

“And you let her do that, Amrit?” Paritosh frowned.

“No, she didn’t,” Rupali hastily intervened, “I am not doing anything here. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have. I don’t know how to cook all this.”

“You would be used to cooking Bengali food, right?” Amrit smiled encouragingly. She had assumed that Rupali was  embarrassed at her inability to cook. This was her way of coming to Rupali’s rescue.

“She is not used to cooking anything, Amrit,” Paritosh sounded curt to Rupali, “Come out now. You are sweating.”

“All right.” Sometimes Rupali did not understand Paritosh at all. It was within reason if he did not want a guest in the kitchen. But he wasn’t politely while asking her to come out, like he should do to a guest. He was ordering her around. Rupali stole a quick glance at Amrit. She was not affected by this exchange at all. Didn’t she feel bad, Rupali wondered. They exchanged a smile and Rupali followed Paritosh out of the kitchen.

“Why on earth would you go into the kitchen?” he asked her on their way back to the hall, still sounding irritated.

“Why on earth would you make such a big deal out of it? I had come to get water. I though I’d say hello to Mrs. Khanna. Is that a crime?”

“No.”

“And rest assured. I was not made to do anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Paritosh was now mollified and his gentle, dignified manner was back, “I over-reacted. It’s just that… That’s not your place.”

“Now you are being hypocritical. It can be your wife’s place. That is fine by you? But not mine.”

Paritosh sighed, “I didn’t mean it in a derogatory sense.”

“Really?”

“Are you interrogating me?” Paritosh tried to make light of it in an effort to wriggle out of an uncomfortable conversation that he himself was responsible for.

“And you are very successfully evading me.”

“Okay, lady. Ask me directly. What do you want to know?”

“I… I don’t know.” Rupali was suddenly clueless, “I forgot.”

“So, we were fighting just like that?”

“Yes. I guess!”

Paritosh was amused now, “Next time I call you a brat, don’t get mad. You are one. You proved that just now.”

“Right,” she mumbled, feeling slightly disoriented.

“Shall we?” Paritosh pointed towards the door of the hall, where all the other guests were busy with starters and drinks.

“Umm. You go ahead. I didn’t get the water I came in for.”

“Okay. Just don’t start cooking fish,” Paritosh joked and Rupali smiled in reply.

—

To be continued

Paritosh came out of his reminiscence when his phone rang. It was Amrit, his wife.

“Right… Yes… Yes… I remember…” he lied. He had forgotten about the wedding they had to attend that evening. He was supposed to buy a gift before going home to pick Amrit up. Amrit perhaps knew that he would have forgotten. So, she called. He was thankful for that. But he wondered sometimes. Instead of putting in so much effort in making him remember, why couldn’t she step out and buy something from the neighborhood shop herself? It wasn’t like she didn’t have time. But she seemed to have an aversion to taking any decision related to money, even minor expenses! His mother always said that he was fortunate to have a wife like that, who always deferred to him. He wasn’t so sure.

—

“This is quite late even for you!” Rupali was surprised to see Paritosh in the department’s common room at two in the morning. Having a night-out in the department was not uncommon for the students or young faculty. But not for others with family. Paritosh was known to stay till late, but usually even he left by midnight.

“I had to finish reviewing Smith’s paper.”

“When is the deadline?”

“Next week. But I am going on a break the day after.”

“Break?”

“Diwali. I have to go to my native place.”

“You had gone last year too.”

“I go every year.”

“For how long will you be gone?”

“One week.”

“Not fair.”

“What is unfair about it, Rupali?” this girl never ceased to amuse him with her antics, “You want to go home? You can go. I will approve your leave.”

“No. No. Who wants to go home? Mom is mad at me for not going there for Pujo. But your going away means that you will not come for our hostel day celebrations again.”

Every hostel in the college had a day earmarked as hostel day. They would host a party and entertain with stage performances on that day. Students living in the hostels invited their friends and faculty members they worked with to the celebrations. The hostel day for Rupali’s hostel fell in the same week as Diwali this time. Last year  Paritosh had missed it because he had been away for some conference on that day.

“I am sorry about that, Rupali.”

“Do you really have to go?”

“I told you, I go every year for Diwali.”

“That is not a reason to go. Do you enjoy going there?”

Paritosh sighed. Did he enjoy going there? He didn’t think so. He had never understood the fascination of poets and dreamers with village-life. Why were the villagers portrayed as nice, simple people? From what Paritosh had seen of his relatives in the village, they could eat an average city-dweller for their breakfast any day. And the family gatherings in his village, even around festivals, hardly felt festive. It invariably became a time to fight and bitch about what is being done with the farms and other properties of the family, who is stealing whose share and so on. Amrit, who wouldn’t step out even to buy some grocery on her own here, would fight it out like a lioness protecting her cubs. Paritosh preferred staying out of it. “Let it be, Amrit,” he would advise his wife too. But on that front, she did not defer to him. “How can I let it be? Ancestral rights must be protected, and not thrown away,” she was very clear about that.

“Dr. Khanna?” Rupali spoke again when Paritosh did not reply and got lost in his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you enjoy going to your native place?”

“No. I don’t. But we are social animals, Rupali. We don’t do things just for ourselves.”

“Do your relatives want you to come there?”

“No. I don’t think that they would miss me terribly.”

“For whom do you want to go then?”

“My wife! Amrit enjoys it. Very much. And my son too, I think. He would until he is still a child,” he smiled, “That may change in next few years.”

“Right,” Rupali’s face flushed. She suddenly felt  stupid, then fished for an opportunity to change the subject, “You were trying to get some coffee?”

“Yes. But this machine doesn’t seem to be working.”

“It won’t work the Computer Science way. We need mechanical engineering at work here,” she replied and tapped the machine hard a couple of times. Sure enough! Coffee started flowing.

“Thanks!” Paritosh picked the cup up and smiled.

“By the way, I think for someone talking about universal grammar in languages, Smith’s modeling is very weak. Prepositions, for example. The model would explain its usages in English, but definitely not in any Indian or middle-eastern languages.”

“Good point,” Paritosh nodded in agreement, “I am going to mention it in my review. Anything else?”

“No. As you had warned, the Maths did become too much for me after a while. It will take me some more time to go through the entire thing.”

“That’s fine. Whatever you managed to understand was beyond expectation. You have more course-work to do.”

“By the way, Dr. Khanna. I think you will enjoy the hostel day celebration more than Diwali at your native place. May be that should matter – at least for one year. Good night,” she said and walked out before he could process the sudden switch in the conversation. He looked confused for a moment. Then he smiled and shook his head.

—

“Rupali. What happened?” Garima interrupted Rupali while walking down the corridor in her hostel.

“Nothing,” Rupali replied hastily, “Why do you ask?”

“Why? You look like you failed a subject in your last semester and would have to wait another year for your degree.”

“What?”

“You look like you are on the verge of crying. Something is the matter.”

“Nothing major.”

“That’s fine. Who said you can’t share minor troubles. Come. Let’s sit in the canteen.”

“It’s not a trouble, yaar,” Rupali tried to appear nonchalant, “Just that Dr. Khanna is not coming for the Hostel Day this year either.”

“Aaaah!” Garima gave a meaningful smile.

“What?”

“No wonder you look heartbroken.”

“What heartbroken?”

“Do I have to tell you what heartbroken means?”

“Why should I be heartbroken? I am just annoyed. I had already purchased food coupons for him. It will be wasted.”

“I see. So, you are annoyed about wasted money? Since when did that start happening?”

“What do you mean since when? My family has money. I don’t. I do spend it wisely.”

“Sure. How many extra coupons do you have?”

“Three.”

“Dr. Khanna eats that much?”

“Silly. For his wife and son.”

“Ah! You were going to invite them too.”

“Of course. I was.”

“Okay. I can take one of the coupons from you. How much was it? Four hundred bucks?”

“Just take it.”

“Don’t care about the money, do you?” Garima winked at her and left, leaving Rupali flabbergasted.

—

To be Continued

“Dr. Khanna?”

“Rupali! Come in.”

“I’m sorry. You look busy. Shall I come later? Oh! You are reading the same paper. By Smith and his group.”

Prof. Paritosh Khanna laughed, something he did often in the presence of Rupali Banerjee, usually triggered by her childlike enthusiasm to know and do everything immediately. She sought instant gratification just like children. Only her candies involved complex Computer Science research! What else could explain her trying to read that paper even before it was published? It had come to Paritosh for peer-review. And it was the kind of paper whose review could not be delegated to the graduate students, not even to someone as bright as Rupali. The authors had, however, put up the paper on their website, as was a common practice among Computer Science researchers. She must have downloaded it from there.

“Let me guess,” he said, barely suppressing an amused smile, “You are stuck here.” He pointed to an equation used in modeling the use of proposition in a family of natural languages.

“Yes. How did you know?” Rupali asked, with a mix of curiosity and embarrassment.

“Because you have not yet come to Lecture 20 in Prof. Sinha’s class in Advanced Statistics.”

Rupali flushed. Paritosh tracked her  academic activities closely. Even if he was her Ph. D. Guide, this was him going out of his way. But if it was awkward, Rupali didn’t mind it. Because it also made her feel very special.

“Once you have attended that lecture, it will sound basic,” he assured her.

“Everything is basic for you,” she complained drawing another amused smile from him.

“And you are unwilling to wait for that lecture. Shouldn’t I have known? Sit down. I will explain the concept to you. But the second part of the paper may still be challenging,” he warned her.

“I get it. I am not to trouble you about this paper,” she pouted, her trademark innocent school-girl pout.

“Sit down, Rupali. You don’t have to emotionally blackmail me. I will explain it,” he said.

She grinned widely as she jumped into the visitor’s chair placed across the table from him.

After he was done explaining, and answering her myriad questions, she walked out with a visible sprint in her gait. She was excited! About understanding a statistical concept!

—

A year and a half ago, Paritosh had received an e-mail from Rupali and had replied with a single word. Her e-mail had her detailed curriculum vitae attached. She had written that she had applied to his institute for a Ph. D. and she wanted to do it under him. She had also asked him that if he liked her CV, could he check the possibility of accepting her in the Ph. D. programme without her having to write GATE. GATE was the exam most leading Indian engineering colleges forced any post-graduate or  Ph. D. aspirants to write to be eligible for admissions. She thought the exam was rather stupid and a waste of time.

And all he had written in the reply was “Why?”

Rupali had jumped with joy on receiving an instant reply from him. Then she had realized that it was a one-word reply. “Why?” ‘What the hell,’ she had cursed. She was prepared for acceptance, rejection, questions or even being ignored. But “Why?” Why did someone apply for a Ph. D. program? To do a Ph. D. of course! Impulsive as she was, she had also replied in one word, but with two question marks. “Why??” And Paritosh had laughed out loud. His momentary impulsiveness had been matched fair and square. So, in the next e-mail he had patiently explained his question to her.

The only blemish on her record was that she had not made it into one of the IITs. But her projects and her undergraduate research had more than compensated for it. He himself had met her at a Machine Learning conference in Zurich once and had been impressed with her paper presentation. She had contributed to many open source projects in the field. She would have gotten admission into any university in the US. With full financial support. Not that finances were  her problem. She came from a rich business family. Why would she want to do a Ph. D. in India? None of the bright undergraduates in Paritosh’ college ever stayed back in India for Ph. D. He himself hadn’t. Rupali was better than most of them. She had already defied all the stereotypes . Indians were not supposed to be good at research, and women were not supposed to be good at Computer Science. As an Indian woman she was good at both.

“You really don’t need a backup,” he had assured her over e-mail.

She had sent a belligerent reply. “Why are you acting as if you know what my plans are? Who told you this is a backup option for me? I have applied to Stanford and CMU as a backup. If you don’t accept me, I am, of course, not going to stay in India.”

That reply had made him laugh again. Even though he had met her in person only once, he remembered how animated she got when she talked. At this point, her innocent face would also have been flushed with her irritation at him. She would be an amusing sight to behold right now, he had thought.

If she wanted to stay back in India, it was no surprise that she wanted to do a Ph. D. under him. People around him had forever wondered why he came back to India. But then, it probably didn’t matter that he did. Unlike many others, his research productivity had not suffered after returning from the US. He was actively publishing in major journals in the field, getting invited to the conferences and was a well-respected researcher. He had worked as a guest faculty at several universities in the US and Europe for short-term, though he never accepted a long-term position outside India.

Despite all that, he had considered it his duty to impress upon her that staying in India was not the best option. But doing it over e-mail was difficult. He had asked her if they could talk on phone.

“Let’s talk in person. I am flying to Delhi next week. Would you be available?” she had replied.

He was happy to be available!

She had walked in wearing a jeans and a plain t-shirt. Her shoulder length hair was tied in a pony-tail. The only accessories she had on were a pair of small ear-rings and a watch. There was no visible make-up on her. She looked like any other youngster in an Indian metro. In fact more sober than most of them. Nothing in her appearance would give away even a hint of how rich a family she came from. At least not until you noticed that all the simple-looking stuff she was wearing came from expensive brands. They were not the fake ones bought off the streets in Delhi. Paritosh couldn’t fathom why he had noticed that. Perhaps because he knew her to be rich. Her face and features were feminine and innocent, and on them, her no-frills clothes, tomboyish behavior and demanding demeanor looked unnatural. As if she was putting on an act. But over last year and a half, Paritosh had dealt with her every day. She was like that only. There was no act! And now, to him, it no longer looked unnatural. She acted like a spoiled brat most of the time. But spoiled for higher things in life. Like her academic and research achievements.

“I don’t understand you, Dr. Khanna,” she was on the offensive from the very beginning in that meeting, “Just tell me this. Would you or would you not like to have me as your Ph. D. student?”

“I would like to. But I also don’t understand you, Rupali. Why would you not want to go to the US for a Ph. D.? You do understand that career-wise that will be the best thing for you.”

“And you, of all the people, are saying that? You have done most of your research from India?”

“Yes. But even I hadn’t stayed back for my Ph. D. Plus there were personal reasons.”

“I have personal reasons too,” she had retorted, rather than replied.

“Oh!” Paritosh had hesitated, “Do you mind sharing? Only if you are comfortable.”

“I don’t mind. I got inclined towards the field of Machine Learning and Computer Science research only because of you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You would not remember. You had come to our college for a tech-talk during our annual tech festival.”

“That was what? Four years ago?”

“Yes. I was in my first year. I had just joined the college.”

“I see,” This was an unexpected turn in the conversation and Paritosh was not prepared for it.

“I had gone to IIT Kharagpur next year only to hear your talk. Then, of course, the conference in Zurich–”

“I remember that. By the way, when people say ‘personal reasons’, most of the time they mean some problem, or obligation. Not this!”

“Well. If you need a personal reason of that kind, My Mom is terrified with the idea of my even stepping out of the house. Going out of the country will give her a heart-attack. Or at least she will behave like she is getting one. So, you see! Personal reasons!”

“But if I said no, you will go to Stanford or CMU, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, Rupali. It’s not a personal reason. What you are indulging in is hero-worshipping and–”

“Oh God! Doing a Ph. D. and more outside India has not changed you much, has it? You preach like Indian parents. But you know what! I can put up with that.”

Paritosh had sighed and shook his head. She was headstrong. Right or wrong, there was no changing her mind. He gave his consent. Even worked through the administrative hassles to get her exempted from writing GATE.

“What harm can writing GATE bring?” he had tried to persuade her to just go with the system, “You will easily get a record score there!”

“Is that your way of ensuring that I go to the US?” she had retorted and he had given up on trying to tame her.

—

To be continued