Mish' Fiction

“I think there is a lot we can do to improve the quality and quantity of research output from the institute. Our publications in top journals are really dismal compared to the number of people we have,” Rupali said at the yearly all-faculty meeting.

“US-returned syndrome,” Sameer Malhotra murmured under his breath, but he was sitting close enough for Rupali to hear this.

“Dr. Banerjee,” the director addressed her, “No doubt that we have to keep an eye on our research output, but the number of publications in the journals you are referring to may not be a good measure.”

“Why not?”

“Well, when you say top journals, most of them are American or European publications. And the peer review process is clearly biased against India and other developing countries.”

“I am afraid that we put too much blame on the biases and take too little responsibility ourselves. Something as simple as improving the language and coherence of the papers can overcome a lot of what we call biases.”

“What do you propose?”

“Apart from the more serious task of looking at the quality of research we are doing, we should start with a simpler task of making sure it is presented right when we submit the papers. A lot of editing for American and European academic publishers happens in India these days. There are qualified editors available who can give inputs on the quality of writing and even comment on the loopholes in the research presented. I think we should take help of such editors.”

“So, now, Dr. Banerjee wants us all to take English classes from some editors,” said one of the senior professors flippantly, “I am sure you did not do that to get your papers published in those journals when you were at NYU. Or did your advisor make sure that those issues were ignored for you because you were representing the great New York University?”

“My advisor made me sweat it out until I wrote things properly,” Rupali was not provoked and replied calmly, but firmly.

“Do you really think that writing the stuff the right way, whatever it is, will increase our acceptance rate?” the director was also annoyed, but he maintained his calm.

“That is one of simpler things to do. Of course, we have to look at the quality of research too. Isn’t it funny that the most active Indology research happens not at our institute, but at Cambridge or Oxford? I think we need to do more collaborative research. I can give examples for History. The latest genetics research can tell us a lot about the movement of humans in the prehistoric era. A lot of genetic data can be studied with the help of statistics. Why shouldn’t we join hands with genetics and statistics researchers and revisit theories like Aryan invasion or Aryan-Dravidian divides? There are a lot of questions that need answers and can be answered by inter-disciplinary research and use of modern technology.”

“Where will the funds come from?”

“Like it comes to all these universities in the world.”

“Easier said than done, Dr. Banerjee, in this country,” Sameer Malhotra spoke up, “All your genius research happened at the New York University. It is better if you speak on this after a year or so, when you have seen how things work here and how difficult it is for us.”

At least he addressed her as Dr. Banerjee, instead of Ms. Rupali, she thought inwardly.

“I agree, Dr. Malhotra!” someone else said and suddenly Rupali felt very angry. Paritosh was not in the meeting due to some other engagement.  But she remembered that he wanted her to stand up for herself.

“All right,” her voice was controlled, but her fury was impossible to miss, “One year is what I need. If there are even two people in my department, who think they can do more than blame the entire world for their miseries and they are willing to collaborate with me, I promise then we’d have at least four papers in the top ten history journals. Let’s talk at next year’s faculty meeting.” With that she got up and stormed out of the meeting room, leaving some people thoughtful, some baffled and some others angry at her impertinence in leaving the meeting without seeking the director’s permission.

—

Paritosh had called her in his office. He had not done so himself. He had asked Meher to inform her. It was unusual. He looked worried when she reached there.

“What happened? Is something wrong?” she asked apprehensively.

“What did you do in the faculty meeting today?” he replied with a question.

“What did I do? And who told you?” she was taken by surprise.

“The director called me. What had happened?”

“Nothing important, I think.”

“Tell me, Rupali. Everyone thinks you were very impertinent in the meeting.”

“I am sorry,” Rupali genuinely appeared so, “I… I didn’t realize it would become your problem.”

“Don’t test my patience. Speak now,” Paritosh sounded so stern that it transported her right back to her student days. ‘No. The class has already started and you may not disturb the rest of the class.’

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she got her bearings together and replied, “I was just giving my suggestion on how to improve the research output and publication numbers from the institute.”

“And you insulted senior faculty members?”

“I didn’t insult anybody. I was the one who was insulted.”

“Tell me what happened?” Paritosh said impatiently.

Rupali narrated the incident exactly as it had happened. By the end of it Paritosh had an amused smile on his face.

“What is so funny?” she felt irritated and could not hide it. A few minutes back he was behaving as if the sky had fallen, and now he was smiling.

“Nothing. But what were you thinking? Four papers in one year in the top ten journals.”

“One is down!”

“Excuse me?”

“I just got an acceptance e-mail from the Journal of Modern History.”

“Congratulations, Dr. Banerjee,” Paritosh was genuinely happy, all traces of anger, worry and even amusement had vanished from his countenance, “I am very proud of you.”

“Thank you. But–”

“Yeah. But– You can speak for yourself. But you do understand that even if you managed to get ten of your papers published, it isn’t going to get you much credibility with people here. They will still think it is the result of your NYU connections.”

“I know.“

“You need to apologize to the director.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong. I am not going to apologize for saying the right things.”

“You left the meeting without asking for director’s permission.”

“That is their problem?” Rupali looked incredulous.

“Yes. Listen to me, now. I am not asking you to apologize for anything else. I, personally, don’t think leaving the meeting was a big deal. But people here do give importance to such things. Pick you battles wisely. There is no point in fighting over petty things. So, send an e-mail to the director apologizing for leaving the meeting. You can inform him of your paper getting accepted in the same e-mail. And if that is not enough, you can also say that you still stand by what you had said about the research output. Will that keep you happy?”

“I will skip the last part. Let the results do the talking,” Rupali pouted while saying this, but she had seen Paritosh’ point.

“Good,” he smiled.

“And Rupali,” he interrupted just as she was about to leave.

“Yes Sir?”

“It is a good idea to stand up for yourself. You did well.”

She couldn’t contain her grin at that, “Thank you!”

“Now figure out how you are going to live up to the challenge.”

“Yes Sir,” she was suddenly feeling so happy and confident that even sky was not a limit for her.

—

To be continued

It was a party hosted by the director of the institute for all the faculty members – a yearly ritual he followed to improve relationships with the faculty. Rupali reached out for a plate about the same time as Prof. Sameer Malhotra did. She withdrew her hands.

“Please go ahead,” she said with a slight smile to him.

“Oh no! How can that be, Ms. Rupali,” Rupali cringed at him calling her Ms. Rupali. He always did that. Neither would he use her first name as some senior faculty members did, nor would he address her as Dr. Banerjee as others did, “Ladies first. Especially when the department is trying so hard and going out of the way to hire them.”

Rupali sighed. Sameer Malhotra didn’t make any bones about being a chauvinist. As a rising star in the department Rupali had been a target of his potshots for a while now. But he was fairly senior to her and she resisted the urge to talk back at him.

“Oh yes! The department has made mistakes for years. By hiring slothful gentlemen over ladies with papers published in American Historical Review and other leading journals. Time to correct that. Right, Dr. Malhotra? I am sure you have seen Dr. Banerjee’s CV,” Paritosh suddenly appeared at the scene.

Sameer Malhotra laughed foolishly, picked up a plate, and moved away leaving them alone.

“Thank you,” Rupali said gratefully.

“You are welcome, but you should speak up for yourself.”

“Yeah,” Rupali looked embarrassed, “I just… I don’t know… He is so senior…”

“He is your colleague and you are his equal. But it’s okay. You don’t have to take the burden of fighting back every time. For now, I am there. Come let’s get something to eat.”

Rupali smiled nervously and followed him.

—

The next day Sunidhi had to go on a five-day trip to some tier-2 cities. They had to visit the retailers and come back with a report on how to meet the next quarter’s sales target. The plan was made sometime back and Sunidhi had chosen Aditya’s as her partner. She regretted it now. But what could be done? Work was work!

It was their third town on the third day of the trip and Aditya had come back to his room after a tiring day of retailer visits. He lied down on his bed and smiled unknowingly. He was thinking about Sunidhi. How intelligently she analyzed the historical novels and their characters, how aggressively she dealt with the retailers, how carefree was she when she laughed at her own jokes, how dominant she sounded when she dealt with a mentee who had made a mistake, how stubbornly she insisted on splitting the restaurant bill, and how lovely was the way… she loved him.

But they weren’t meant for each other. She was meant for someone who deserved her. He deserved nobody. He couldn’t even dream of someone as wonderful as her.

He tossed and turned in the uncomfortable bed of the best hotel the small town had. Her room was next to his. If he fell asleep and had nightmares and if she heard him scream in his sleep…. No. He wouldn’t live to face her if that happened. How was he going to manage? He had to find another room, far from hers. He couldn’t trust the thin walls of these cheap hotels.

He got out of the bed and decided to go to the reception to ask them to change the room. He would have to think up a reason for demanding the change? Mosquitoes? Bed-bugs? Broken lock?

Damn! Why did everything turn dark? Light? Light was gone? Did they not have an active backup? No. It would probably be several minutes before someone started the generator. But he was scared. Those hands were creeping up on him. Someone needed to save him. Mom won’t come. She wouldn’t know. Before he knew it, he was drenched in sweat. He needed to find someone. There was a door there. He rushed to it and banged on it. Damn! It was her door. Why didn’t he remember? Her room was next to his. She shouldn’t see him like that. He made to leave. But she was already there by then.

“Is that you, Aditya? What happened?” She was using the backlight of her phone to see him. A little light. Just a little But, it gave him hope; it gave him strength. He was safe. It wasn’t dark. There was no hand creeping up. He turned to leave, but she held his hand.

“You look ill, Aditya. You are drenched in sweat.”

“No, I am fine,” his mind cleared as the fear receded. He was able to talk now.

“You are not. Do you remember how you were banging the door? Come in.”

“No.”

“Come in. Now!”

He buckled under her authoritative tone and followed her. She gave him some water to drink. He took it, feeling thankful. The generator started and the light came back.

“Tell me now. What’s the problem? You are sweating like you are recovering from high fever or something.”

“Yes… Yes… I think I had a high fever and was slightly delirious. Probably had a bad dream and woke up scared. With the sweating the fever has gone down now. I can go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“No. No, Sunidhi. Thanks, but I am fine now.”

“Okay. These walls aren’t particularly thick. I think you can just shout if there is a problem and I will be able to hear it.”

‘That is precisely the problem,’ Aditya thought sadly. But he smiled outwardly and said, “Sure. But I think I will be fine now.”

“All right. Good night.”

“Good night, Sunidhi.”

But Sunidhi had a sleepless night after that. The thoughts of Dr. Khanna’s observation kept her occupied.

—

“Aditya. Do you mind coming home with me today?” Sunidhi asked Aditya the day after they were back from the trip.

“Anything specific?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Okay.” Aditya was hesitant, but he didn’t refuse, “What time do you want to leave?”

“Around six?”

“Okay.”

—

To be continued

“Your inputs were fantastic in the discussion, Aditya,” Sunidhi recalled the first time they had gone to the book reading session. A lengthy discussion had ensued on a character of the novel and she had been impressed with Aditya during the discussion.

“You don’t have to act the encouraging mentor outside the office too!” Aditya was dismissive about the complement.

“I truly mean it.”

“Thanks.”

“And anyway, now the training period is almost over. Like a good parent I am all set to let my babies go and treat them as friends and adults from now on,” Sunidhi said and laughed.

Aditya also smiled, “You have been a good mentor, Sunidhi. I will remember this time all my life.”

“Thank you. What are you doing for lunch?”

“Nothing planned. How about you?”

“Same here. Shall we go to some restaurant?”

“A good deed needs no permission. What’s your favourite cuisine?”

“I really like Italian. And yours?”

“I don’t mind Italian either. Let’s go to Sapori D’ Italia.”

“Okay. But what is your favourite cuisine was my question?”

“I like Chinese. But right now we’ll go for Italian.”

“Okay.”

They drove to the restaurant in Sunidhi’s car. When they parked and got out of the car, she spoke hesitantly, “Aditya – one thing…”

“Yeah?”

“You shouldn’t insist on paying the bill. We must split it.”

“Ah! Okay.”

“I hope you didn’t mind my being upfront about the bill. In past there have been awkward situations once the bill comes. And then – sometimes just to avoid making a scene, I have to give in. So, I thought I will take precaution beforehand,” Sunidhi said when they were seated.

“Don’t worry, Sunidhi,” Aditya smiled assuredly, “I expected this from you and I respect you for how you are.”

“But you don’t agree to it?”

“I absolutely agree to it.”

“But you look awkward.”

“It’s not because you are wrong or that I don’t agree with you. It’s because women like you are in minority. Put yourself in my shoes for a moment. I hope you would agree that most women don’t think like you. And if I don’t offer to pay the bill, they will take offence. They will think of me as… mannerless? Do you agree?”

“As much as I hate to, I do agree,” Sunidhi replied with a sigh.

“So overall, to be on the safe side, I’d like to fight for paying the bill. But since I know you now, I know that I can and should do the right thing i.e. split the bill. If you were with someone else, irrespective of what they think, they would try to do what is socially more acceptable. Because they don’t know how you think. Do I make any sense?”

“Unfortunately, you do.”

“Hey. I am sorry.  Looks like I spoiled your mood.”

“Oh no! You just said the right thing.”

“But you look sad.”

Sunidhi did not reply, just shook her head. The slight smile on her lips was sad.

“You can tell me, Sunidhi.”

“I feel like a moron sometimes. Most people find it too difficult to adjust to me. I’m too rigid, they say. Perhaps I am. But what am I to do if the acceptable standards are not right?”

“Nothing. Why should you do anything? Just be what you are and don’t feel bad about it.”

Sunidhi smiled, “Thank you, Aditya. You have been very nice.”

“My pleasure. Let’s order now. I am really hungry.”

They had started hanging out together. That’s how Rupali and Aditya got introduced. Sunidhi was the only friend Rupali had in the city. So, she often joined them.

Despite everything, Aditya’s strange reaction to the kids kept popping up and it bothered Sunidhi to no end.

“Stop honking like that, Aditya,” Sunidhi had to shout to get Aditya’s attention. She was tired; so Aditya was driving her car that day. They were waiting on a red signal when Aditya had started honking incessantly.

He seemed to come out of a trance when he heard her voice. He looked at her, and spoke incoherently, “The kids… on the carrier of the bicycle… he was playing with them…”

“What are you talking about?” Sunidhi asked looking concern.

Aditya regained his composure, “Sorry. I got distracted.”

“It was something about the kids again? What is the problem, Aditya?”

“Nothing. Look the signal is green now. Let’s go. You need to sleep.”

And then the mystery had deepened a few days back. She had to fill up the feedback form for her mentees as the training period was coming to an end. She picked up the files she had received from the HR. As she turned through the pages, she realized that she had gotten some confidential papers by mistake. She shouldn’t be looking at them, but she couldn’t help looking at Aditya’s. And she was surprised as she came across his papers related to tax exemptions. He had several donations to the charities and all of them… worked for children.

Meanwhile, her own feelings for Aditya were making her restless. She shared it with Rupali.

“I don’t know what others would think about it, Rupali, but I think I am in love with him.”

“What is there to think about? Talk to him. From all you have told me, and from whatever I have seen of him, he also seems to like you.”

“I think he is hesitant. May be because he is younger?”

“If that is so, you should know about it. But it would be idiotic on his part to let that become an issue if he likes you. Talk to him.”

Sunidhi hadn’t disagreed. She had told Rupali almost everything but nothing about his mysterious attitude towards the kids. She, still, did decide to talk to him.

“I have cooked today. Do you mind coming home for lunch?” she asked Aditya after coming out of the book club meeting the next Saturday.

“What came upon you? Why have you cooked?”

“It hasn’t turned out that bad, Aditya. You can try.”

“I didn’t mean that at all. Let’s go to your home.”

“That was good,” Aditya complemented her after they finished the lunch, “You undermine your culinary skills when you say you can’t cook well.”

“Thanks. That’s really sweet of you. But I know where I stand. I just didn’t feel like eating outside today.”

“Good for me. Feel like that more often.”

They chatted about the book club discussion, office and the upcoming transfers for a while before Sunidhi came to what she really wanted to discuss.

“Aditya. There is something I have been meaning to ask you. I don’t know if I have the right, but I still want to.”

“Why are you beating around the bush? I thought we were beyond such formalities after all these days.”

“Yeah. But… It’s not like I know everything about you,” Sunidhi had smiled weakly.

“Most of the things in our lives are so useless that they are not worth knowing about. What do you want to know?”

“Aditya, what is this love-hate relationship you have with kids?”

“What?”

“You always behave as if you can’t tolerate kids and are so uncomfortable, almost angry around them. But you donate to charities that work for kids. What’s the deal?”

Aditya stiffened, “How do you know about the donations?”

“How does it matter?”

“It’s not important anyway.”

“It is. It affects you. That much I can see. And if it affects you, how can it not be important?”

“Let it go, Sunidhi.”

Sunidhi felt his unwillingness and was disappointed, “Aditya – just wanted to clarify that I didn’t unnecessarily want to poke nose in your affairs. It’s just that–”

“I know, I know, Sunidhi that you asked because you care. But–”

“You can’t confide in me?”

“Your care and concern are wasted on me. I am not the person who deserves this.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t explain that.”

“Aditya – you can be straight forward and tell me that you don’t want me interfering; or that you don’t trust me–”

“If that was true, I would have told you. But it’s not about you. You are the most wonderful girl I have ever met, Sunidhi. I only want happiness for you. So, let me be. You cannot find happiness with me. Nobody can. I am sorry. Try to forgive me.”

He had left her house immediately, while she had looked on helplessly.

She had made couple of other attempts to talk to Aditya, but all of them had been as useless. And then she had met Rupali at her mother’s birthday party. After the party was over and Sunidhi had sobered down, Rupali had told her about Dr. Khanna’s observation. Was it indeed about him, then? And not about her. But why? How?

—

To be continued

‘Can’t be too difficult to guess that these two love each other,’ Rupali thought to herself and was about to say something to Paritosh, when he spoke, “What’s wrong with this chap? Some problem?”

“No. Why do you think so? He just cares for her. So–”

“No. Not that. He generally has something in his countenance that shows constant… anxiety, even fear.”

“You are talking like a psychic.”

Paritosh laughed slightly, “Sorry. I am unnecessarily alarming you with my speculations.”

“It didn’t look like you were merely speculating. What did you see?”

“Well – I am no professional psychiatrist. But I have read a lot on mental health issues. The way he was constantly twitching his car keys and those sudden, very slight shudders tells me that he might need some help. Perhaps something is bothering him.”

“I see. By the way, why don’t you pick up some food? Everyone has started eating.”

“Sure.”

—

Sunidhi was lying on her bed, but was unable to sleep. Last five or six months would have been as ordinary for her as any other. But for Aditya.

She thought of the time she had overheard the group of trainees talking in the canteen.

“She’s a total bomb, yaar. She looks all prim and proper in the office. But I am sure she is a bitch outside,” Feroz had said and Ankit had added some remarks to similar effect. The only woman trainee Amrita was on leave. So, the boys were at liberty to have their “boy talk” over lunch.  Sunidhi knew they were talking about her, but the male-dominated corporate world had hardened her. She didn’t care. She was about to leave when she had heard Ankit addressing Aditya, “Where are you going, Aditya? Not eating?”

“I have some work.”

“Work?” Ankit had laughed, “You can be truthful, mate. You don’t like anyone else talking about her.”

“I will be truthful. I don’t like anyone reducing anyone to a sexual object.”

“There goes Sunidhi’s blue-eyed-boy!” Feroz had said and he and Ankit had laughed.

“You are incorrigible,” Aditya had replied and gone away.

Sunidhi had found herself smiling at Aditya’s words, but had also worried about Feroz’s. What was it about “blue-eyed-boy”?

In their first year, management trainees worked across four different projects for three months each. As it happened, Aditya had been assigned for two consecutive trimesters under her.

“Since you have to do the next three months also with me, I was thinking we should put you on children’s products?” Sunidhi had told him.

“No. No. Please. Not the children’s products. Anything else! I don’t understand kids.”

“Well – I am afraid I have only two product lines where I can put you.  And I think you won’t want to go for women’s hygiene products. I was thinking of putting Amrita there.”

“Is there a policy that only women can work there?”

“No. No. Nothing like that,” Sunidhi had interrupted him quickly, “There is no policy like that at all. It is one of the most profitable and fastest growing product lines and most senior managers would clamor to have it under them. But we have seen reluctance in the recent graduates – men, of course. They seem hesitant and embarrassed.”

“I don’t feel that way. Is it okay if I work on… women’s hygiene products? I hope I don’t sound weird, but I don’t want to work on children’s product.”

“It’s perfectly fine. In fact, it shows that you are already professional and mature. I am sure Amrita will be happy that she isn’t getting gender stereotyped. She would like working on children’s products.”

“Thanks, Sunidhi.”

The way Aditya had hesitated before uttering “women’s hygiene products”, Sunidhi felt sure that he was as embarrassed about it as most fresh graduates were. But he seemed to have something stronger against children’s products.

Over time she had noticed that he had a dislike for kids. Perhaps it wasn’t even a dislike; he almost seemed scared around them. She remembered the CSR activity their group had participated in. They had gone to an orphanage. Apart from gifting them sweets, chocolates, clothes and study materials, they were also to spend half a day with the kids. Aditya had been aloof most of the time. Once she had coerced him into coming with her and play with the kids. As the team leader, she was supposed to involve everyone. She was playing with a toddler and in the process playfully patted him.

“What are you doing?” Aditya had practically jumped over her and dragged her away from the child.

“What happened, Aditya? What did I do?”

“Sorry. I mean… the child might be uncomfortable.”

“Come on, Aditya. I wasn’t hurting him. He was enjoying the little game. Calm down and come back.”

He had also curtly refused Amrita, who wanted his help in playing with a small girl who had tired her out by running around and whose energy levels were showing no signs of ebbing.

He had been silent on their way back. Once they were in the office, Sunidhi had asked him discreetly, “Why do you hate kids so much?”

“Just like you hate Mayonnaise!”

“That’s an odd comparison.”

“Whatever!” He had walked off.

But they had bonded over other things.

“Hey! You are reading Dalrymple,” she had found a book on his desk.

“Yeah. I like reading historical fiction as well non-fiction. And he researches so extensively for his books.”

“True. True. Even I like them. Have you read Cuckold by Nagarkar?”

“Not yet. But I intend to. I have heard about the book.”

“I found it really interesting.”

“Do you have a copy?”

“No. But you know what. I usually borrow books from a book club. It’s close to the office. You can also become a member. They also have these weekly book reading and discussion sessions on Saturday.”

“Do you go for those?”

“I used to go. But fell out of habit. I would definitely like to start again. At least on the weekends one should stay away from these sales charts and targets and growth.”

“I would like to come along if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. Having company will motivate me to go regularly. Let’s start from tomorrow itself. I can also get Cuckold issued for you till you get your membership.”

“Sounds cool.”

—

“May I come in, Sir?” Rupali knocked at the open door of Paritosh’ office.

“Rupali. Come in. What’s up?”

She stood there, hesitating for a moment.

“Sit down. What is bothering you?” he asked.

“It’s a student.”

“What happened? You got a distress call again?” he asked with concern.

“No. It’s not about the counseling forum. This student in my class came to me after the mid-semester exam.  And…”

“And?”

“And he was going bonkers. He says he needs to pass the exam, else he would have no option but to commit suicide. I have seen his papers, he cannot pass. What do I do?”

“Who is he?”

Rupali hesitated in giving out the name.

“You can tell me,” he assured her.

“Mohit.”

“Mohit Mishra?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. So here is the rule of thumb. Those who do commit suicide are not the ones who talk about it.”

“But what if–”

“I know, Rupali. You are kind of shaken up after Rakesh’ attempt. But don’t be. In fact, it is likely that this guy is just trying to cash in on that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And especially about this Mohit Mishra. He is too clever for his own good. And highly manipulative. I don’t know how they learn all of this at such young age. Don’t worry. And if he tries these tricks next time ask him to talk to the HOD. Okay?”

“Yes Sir,” Rupali finally seemed relaxed and smiled, “Thank you.”

—

To be continued

Mouli sat silently for a while after Paritosh finished narrating Amrit’s story to her. Then she sighed and said, “Paritosh. You are good man. Amrit is lucky to have you in her life. Most people, who are suffering, are not so lucky.”

“I just did what I had to.”

Mouli then went on to ask the questions relevant to her research; about his experiences with the doctors and mental health facilities, about costs, about awareness amongst people around him, any differences in social treatment of the issue between small town where Amrit came from and metros like Mumbai. Paritosh patiently answered her questions and also suggested some of the issues she could dig deeper into during her research.

“Thank you, Paritosh. This has been very helpful,” Mouli said towards the end.

“Not a problem. You have taken up a noble cause. But Mrs. Banerjee…”

“Yes?”

“As I have already told you, most of my colleagues do not know anything about it, including, I think… ”

“Rupali?”

“Yes. I don’t mind if she knows, but it would be helpful if both of you are discreet about it.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Thanks.”

“Paritosh. Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah?”

“You have been very good to your wife. You have done your duty. Her well-being has been taken care of. You have the right to your happiness too. You can move on in your life. You should… You do know that you have good enough a reason for a divorce. I don’t mean to be insensitive, just practical.”

“I understand you, Mrs. Banerjee. Thanks for the concern, and the advice.”

—

“Rupali. Good that you came. I was about to call you. I was wondering if you would volunteer to mentor the students going for Youth Congress from our college,” Paritosh almost beamed on seeing Rupali.

“Me?”

“Yeah. Why not? You are very good speaker.”

“How do you know that?”

“You had won almost all the competitions as a student. At least the ones I remember being associated with.”

“You remember that?”

“I am in the History department. I have a fairly good memory.”

She gave an embarrassed smile, “Of course. I can do the mentoring, but only from next month.”

“Why?”

“Actually, that’s what I came here for. It’s Mom’s birthday on 31^st of this month. It is the first one since I came back from the US. So, I’m planning a grand celebration for that. I need to take off from work for couple of days.”

“That’s not a problem. Just make sure you inform the students and make arrangements for the make-up classes.”

“Sure. I will do that. There was something else too.”

“Yes?”

“Mom has insisted that you must come to the party. She has reminded me like twenty times this morning. So, please make sure you are there at our house at 7.30 in the evening on 31^st.”

“Me? What will I do there?”

“What does one do at a party? Eat, drink and enjoy.”

“Rupali. You must excuse me. I am swamped with work right now–”

“Mom is going to call you up. If you can convince her, you are excused!” Rupali smirked and left his office.

Paritosh sighed after she left. He had agreed to talk to Mouli when he met her at the mental health facility. But he really didn’t want to be an object of her pity. What was she up to now? Was she trying to be extra nice to him by drawing him in her social circle? She had also been quick to suggest how he should move in in life with another woman. Was she trying to…

Oh God! He was being too cynical. He was not a child that someone could make him do something against his wishes.  And probably it was just a courtesy she was extending to him as her daughter’s boss. A party wouldn’t kill him. He would accept the invitation, he decided and then returned to his work.

—

“Hello Sir! Do you recognize me?” Paritosh was taken by surprise when a girl, about the same age as Rupali, approached him at Mouli’s birthday party.

“Umm… Yes… But…”

She laughed out loud, “Sorry to put you on the spot. My name is Sunidhi Mishra. I used to be in your class too.”

“You always used to sit next to Rupali, right?”

“Wow Rupali!” Sunidhi teased Rupali who had joined them by then, “I’m famous because of you.”

“Shut up,” Rupali looked flushed.

“That’s not the case,” Paritosh felt the need to do some damage control, “I don’t forget my students. But I do fail to put the right names on right faces soemtimes. You will have to cut me that much slack. I am growing old now.”

“Oh! Don’t worry,” Sunidhi was still her cheerful self, “I will cut you all the slack you want. But not because you are old. You don’t look old at all. It wasn’t without reason that you were the first crush of half the girls in our class.”

It was Paritosh’ turn to look flushed. He shifted uncomfortably. Sunidhi was too young and too bold for his comfort. “It is difficult to deal with students outside the class,” he managed to say with a nervous smile.

“Which means,” Rupali came to his rescue, “That you need to shut up Ms. Sunidhi Mishra. Have you had a drink too many?” She dragged her away from there. She looked back once and gave a nervous, apologetic smile to Paritosh. He nodded to tell her that all was well.

“Paritosh,” Mouli located him next, “Thank you so much for coming here.”

“Happy Birthday, Mrs. Banerjee. It’s a fabulous party,” he said handing over a gift to Mouli.

“My birth is to my parent’s credit and the party is to my daughter’s credit. I have got nothing to do with all this,” Mouli said and laughed at her own joke. Paritosh also chuckled.

“Come. I will introduce you to some other guests in the party. I don’t want you to be feeling left out.”

“Sure,” he said, but silently prayed that this wasn’t an excuse to introduce him to eligible women. He was thankful when she introduced him to several people, men, women and couples, without any particular bias towards single women.

Paritosh went to pick up another drink when Rupali met him again.

“I hope you are not getting bored, Sir.”

“Not at all. Mrs. Banerjee is a fine hostess.”

“Sorry about Sunidhi. She is a bit stressed out and too drunk. I just made her lie down in my room. She is already fast asleep.”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah. She will be. Oh, there is Aditya. Hi Aditya,” she spotted someone and called out to him

“Hi Rupali. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Meet Dr. Paritosh Khanna. Our HOD.”

Paritosh and Aditya shook hands.

“Aditya is Sunidhi’s friend,” Rupali continued with the introductions, “He works with her in the marketing department.”

“Under her actually,” Aditya smiled, “I am a trainee. She is my mentor.”

“She is a mentor?” Paritosh looked amused.

“Don’t be fooled by how you saw her now, Sir. She is a real, tough business woman,” Rupali said.

“She indeed is,” Aditya corroborated, “But why is that hard to believe right now? Something wrong?”

“No. Sunidhi is just too drunk. She’s sleeping in my room.”

“She is unwell?”

“Don’t worry, Aditya. She will be fine once she wakes up.”

“I want to see her. Don’t worry, I won’t disturb her. If you don’t mind, where is your room?”

“Upstairs, second room to the right.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Paritosh looked on thoughtfully as Aditya left.

—

To be continued

The staff at the mental asylum had asked him if he would be willing to speak to researchers from an NGO who were preparing a report on the state of mental health facilities and awareness in different parts of the country. Talking to the caregivers was an important part of the research. He had agreed. Not only did he want to support research activities as an academician himself, but he also had strong opinions on the issue. That day after seeing Amrit, who was in no position to recognize him or talk to him, he waited for the researchers to join him.

“Paritosh?” Mouli was surprised to see him there when she arrived.

“Mrs. Banerjee? How come… Oh!”

“I volunteer with an NGO and I am researching… So, it’s you who I am supposed to meet.”

“I guess so,” Paritosh said, his face not giving away anything about how he liked the idea.

Mouli sat down beside him, “Can’t say that I’m happy to see you. Not here! I am sorry.” She now understood his earlier hesitation in talking about his family.

“Don’t be. We all live our share of life.”

“Yeah. So, who is it?”

“My wife.”

“Are you comfortable talking to me? If you’d prefer to talk to someone you do not know, I can arrange for another researcher to interview you.”

“I’m fine.”

—

Twenty-six years old Paritosh had come back from the US after finishing his Ph. D. Amrit had already been chosen for him by his parents. It wasn’t a surprise. He had been told about that. He was prepared, even excited, and was looking forward to meeting his bride. Meanwhile, he had gotten a job as a faculty member in a leading Social Sciences institute in Mumbai. His mother was not keeping well and it was decided that after the wedding Amrit would stay with his parents for some time to take care of his mother, while he would try to visit as often as possible. That was a dampener in the plans he had for his married life, but he wasn’t the one to defy his parents.

The wedding took place as planned. Amrit came home. After a month, Paritosh came to Mumbai to start his job while Amrit stayed back. Some time passed before his family told him about the problems. Amrit, apparently, often had seizures. She would lose control over herself and behave weirdly; sometimes going to the extent of harming herself and others. Paritosh got worried. He talked to her on his next visit home. To his horror, she broke down while confessing to him that her problem was not new.

She had been having those seizures for several years. The family was worried about it affecting not only her chances of getting married, but also that of her younger siblings. People might think all of them were mad! So, they had gone to great lengths to keep her problem a secret until they could get her married off. She begged him to not let people outside their family know about her problem until her siblings were married. After that he could kill her for all that mattered. She’d happily write whatever suicide note he wanted.

“I should kill myself. But I am too much of a coward. I am so scared of pain. But if you kill me, I promise, I won’t do a thing to protect myself.”

Paritosh was, at first, horrified to hear her talk so. Then pity overtook every other emotion. The situation he had landed into made him angry. But he could not be angry at her. What was her fault? She had no say in the decisions of her life. Brought up with shame and guilt about her condition, she just wanted to stay out of everyone’s way. She did that for her siblings and parents by getting married.  And once their lives were settled, she was willing to do it for him too. Proposing something as outrageous as her murder at his hands.

What was he to do now? He accepted his destiny. He explained to her, as calmly and sympathetically as he could manage, that she shouldn’t talk or even think about dying. He would take care of her. He tried talking to his parents. He would take her to Mumbai with him. His mother did not agree. Who would manage her seizures when he was at work? Besides Amrit was useful to her when she was healthy. She would stay with them as was decided earlier. Conditioned from childhood to obey his parents, it was difficult enough for his to argue with them. It didn’t help that Amrit also agreed with the opinion of his parents.

“Ma is right. I should stay here. But…”

“But?”

“I am not good for you. You should get married again. To a better girl.”

“Don’t be silly,” he had admonished her. But the maturity and calm he maintained for her sake, were no cure for the void and frustration in his own life.

Substantial property and gifts had come to him by way of dowry from Amrit’s parents. He did not know how his or Amrit’s life would turn out to be. So, he invested the money in her name so that she would have enough for herself, all her life.

Some more months passed. His mother’s health as well as Amrit’s condition deteriorated. Paritosh decided to put his foot down this time. He went home, intent upon bringing back his parents as well as Amrit with him. Both the women could get better treatment in Mumbai. But his mother died during that visit. His father did not want to be uprooted from the place that had been his home all his life. So, Paritosh came back to Mumbai with Amrit.

He took Amrit to the doctors, but they were not hopeful of recovery. Her condition would deteriorate day by day, they told him. If she had gotten help in her childhood, it could have been different. But now there was no hope. At around the same time they discovered that she was pregnant. Paritosh wasn’t sure that pregnancy and having a child was a good idea. But Amrit was extremely happy. She was convinced that her child will help her recover; that she will find the will to recover for the sake of her child. She was sorely mistaken. She had a seizure soon and she ended up harming herself so much that the baby could not be saved. The shock and guilt worsened her condition. Paritosh took a year’s leave from his work to take care of her. But there was no improvement. At the end of it he was left with no choice, but to admit her to the mental asylum, where she could be supervised all the time.

And that’s where she was for last eight years now. These days she wouldn’t even recognize him most of the time. Still, he paid his weekly visit to her.

—

To be continued

On her way to work later in the morning Rupali recalled Partiosh’ advice to her at the time of her appointment to the student counseling forum. He had said that this job was very sensitive and she should take care of her students. But she had been so preoccupied with her own resentment for him that she hadn’t paid enough attention to his advice. She had never intended to ignore her responsibilities, but she hadn’t thought through their gravity either.

She walked into his office for a meeting as they had agreed to do while leaving the hospital that morning.

“Sit down, Rupali. Are you all right?”

The concern in his voice surprised her, “Why are you asking about me? I have been so irresponsible. You should be…” her voice trailed off.

“I should be?”

“You should be scolding me. Throwing me out of the job. May be I should resign.”

“Come on, Rupali. I thought you were more of a fighter than that.”

“Sir?”

“Look. We all make mistakes. That cannot be the reason to give up.”

“You mean you don’t mind me continuing to work here?”

“Continuing to work here? What are you talking about? What makes you think…”

Rupali looked even more embarrassed and did not say anything. So, Paritosh continued, “Look Rupali. Like I said we all make mistakes. But it is important to learn from them and not repeat them. You are intelligent. You understand things. Yes – you have not been the most responsible person. You were not so even as a student.”

Another surprise for Rupali, “You remember things from then?”

“Of course, I do. A teacher always remembers the good students. You would know that now. But the point is this, Rupali. The student days are gone. It’s good to hold on to child-like creativity and innocence even as we grow up. But it’s absolutely necessary to let go of childish immaturity and irresponsibility. I’m sure you understand and will be able to do so, right?”

“I will try my best.”

“That would be more than enough, I’m sure,” he smiled.

—

“Rupa. Is everything all right, darling?” Mrs. Mouli Banerjee had noticed changes in her daughter’s behavior since her return from Kolkata. While finding her room neat and clean unlike earlier had been a pleasant surprise, her unusual reticence during evening tea on a Saturday alarmed her.

“Yes, Mom. Everything is all right. Why do you ask?”

“You are hardly talking.”

“Oh! Work life is boing as a teacher! Nothing interesting happens that one can talk about.”

“Then what are you doing there? Make something interesting happen!”

“I don’t know how to do that. Just getting the students to call me by my name, and not Ma’am, is so difficult.”

“Well. That is ambitious! Did you call any of your professors by name here?”

“No. But they never asked me to.”

“If they ask you to do that now, will you be able to? Some of them are your colleagues now, right?”

“Eh! I don’t know. But the point is they still haven’t asked me to. So, don’t try to trap me, Mommy dear.”

Mouli laughed and so did Rupali; and the melancholy hanging in the air diffused away.

“By the way, Mom, do you remember I had professor named Dr. Paritosh Khanna? I had told you about him. He had taught some of my courses back then.”

“The one who didn’t like you for some reason.”

“Yeah. And guess what!”

“What?”

“I asked you to guess.”

“Come on!”

“He is our HOD now.”

“Really? Is he troubling you? Is that why you have been looking so worried?”

“No. No, Mom. Don’t worry. He is fine now. Actually, quite helpful. Even I was apprehensive initially. But he is all right. Funny, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is,” Mouli looked thoughtful for a moment, but didn’t say anything about it.

—

“No Problem, Mom. I will take a cab or something. Bye.”

Rupali had returned from a study trip with a group of students. The bus had dropped them at the institute and all the students had gone back to their hostels or home when Paritosh overheard her conversation on phone.

“What happened, Rupali?”

“Nothing, Sir. Our driver had an emergency in his family. So, Mom let him take the car to his village. She had called to let me know that he cannot pick me up. I will call a cab.”

“I will drop you. It’s quite late.”

“You will unnecessarily have to drive into the city and then come back all the way. It’s not needed, Sir. I will take a cab.”

“I have been sitting in my office for last ten hours reading papers. I can do with some fresh air.”

“But…”

“Fresh air? You are not going to deny me that, are you?”

“You are being manipulative,” she smiled.

“Things you have to do for small pleasures in life,” Paritosh said with mock solemnity as they walked towards his car.

It didn’t take them long on the traffic-free roads at that hour and soon they pulled up in front of her home.

“Please do come inside, Sir. Mom would be really happy to meet you.”

“Umm,” he hesitated for a moment, then agreed, “Yeah. Sure. I’d like to meet her too.”

—

“Dr. Khanna. Very nice to meet you, finally. Rupali talks a lot about you.”

“I hope she says nice things.”

Mouli laughed at that and asked him whether he preferred tea or coffee.

“Coffee, I think,” Rupali answered, “I will get some.”

“Don’t bother, Rupali. I don’t need anything. I came in just to meet Mrs. Banerjee.”

“I and Mom would have chatted for a while over coffee anyway. It’s not a problem.”

Mouli engaged Paritosh in some small talk.

“So, Dr. Khanna…”

“Mrs. Banerjee, please call me Paritosh. I can’t claim to be young any longer, but I think I’m young enough for you.”

Mouli laughed pleasantly. Paritosh noticed absent-mindedly that she laughed like Rupali. Rupali looked a lot like her mother too. Except she was taller and also had longer fingers. Probably those came from her father.

Mouli’s voice broke his unintended reverie, “All right, Paritosh. Thanks for reminding just how old I have become. But with a daughter of that age, I cannot hope to hide that. I wish she hadn’t grown up so soon.”

The slight termor in her voice did not escape Paritosh’ attention. He knew that Rupali’s father had died when she was seven years old and her mother never remarried. Mouli’s entire life must have been devoted to her daughter.

“She has grown up fine. You should be proud of her.”

“Slightly immature still, I am afraid.”

“I would call it innocence which is a good thing.”

“You are being nice, Paritosh. But she has told me about all the irresponsible things she has done on the job in a very short time. Thanks for helping her out.”

“She might have exaggerated it. Everyone makes mistakes. Mature people learn from their mistakes and she did.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Rupali walked in just as Mouli was changing the topic of conversation.

“What about your family, Paritosh? Wife? Kids?”

Rupali noticed Paritosh’ discomfort immediately and intervened, “Come on, Mom! Can’t find a less boring topic to discuss than marriage and kids? Don’t become the nosy, old woman.”

Mouli laughed yet again, “Well, Paritosh has declared me to be an old woman just a while back. So, I might as well play the role.”

“Mrs. Banerjee. I really didn’t mean too–” Paritosh was genuinely embarrassed.

“Sir. Don’t fall for her leg-pulling. When she decides to entertain herself at someone’s expense, she doesn’t care that it’s her first meeting with them.”

“Did I ask something inappropriate, Rupa? Is there a problem in his family?” Mouli asked her daughter after Paritosh had left.

“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t know anything about his family. But he looked uncomfortable. That’s why I intervened.”

“That was clever of you.  Thanks for handling the situation.”

“You are welcome, Mom. But you should really not become the nosy, old woman,” Rupali made a baby face and the mother-daughter duo broke into a loud laughter.

—

To be continued

“Rupali. Rakesh’ parents are here. Would you like to handle them?”

“Yes… Yes Sir. I will.” She had no idea as to what awaited her and how she was going to handle it. But she was going to do anything to make up for dereliction of her duty earlier and this was one such chance.

“They might be distraught and might blame you or the institute. Be patient, but firm. Don’t say anything that can get the institute in trouble.”

On hearing the last piece of his advice, Rupali felt very nervous.

“No. I can’t handle it. I might do or say something wrong.”

“You won’t. Just go there and be calm.”

Rupali didn’t object further and went inside the room where Rakesh was resting and his parents were watching him over.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sharma!” Rupali addressed them softly.

They turned back to look at her. She answered their unspoken question, “I am Rupali Banerjee. I teach at the institute.”

“Who is responsible for this?” Mr. Sharma asked angrily.

Rupali froze for a moment on hearing that question. Was she the one? But she gathered herself together, “As the doctor might have told you, it was a suicide attempt. He might have been worried about his exams…”

“Nonsense. My son is not that weak,” it was Mr. Sharma again, while his wife just continued weeping.

“Mr. Sharma. It is best if we talked outside the room. We may disturb Rakesh otherwise.”

Mr. Sharma was not bothered, but his wife seemed to see her point. She nudged her husband and they came out in the waiting area. Paritosh was not there. Rupali was partly relieved that he wasn’t there to judge her. But she was also anxious about not having him around to rescue the situation should she fail.

“Mr. Sharma. I know it is a difficult time, but please try to understand that Rakesh would need support–”

“Don’t talk nonsense, young lady. My son has been a topper all through and–”

“Topper?” Rupali interrupted surprised.

“Yes Ma’am. Have you joined recently or what? I want to talk to someone senior–”

“Mr. Sharma. Rakesh is a decent student. And very good at sports and extra-curriculars too.  But no – he is not the topper.”

“Really? Now I must find out what is going on. You are now trying to prove him to be a bad student who attempted suicide because he was going to fail the exams. You are trying to prove him responsible for–”

“Please calm down Mr. Sharma.”

“Calm down? My son is being targeted by someone who is jealous and you are asking me to calm down?”

“Someone jealous? Why would someone–”

“Because he is good. He is the winner–”

“Okay. Let’s get this straight Mr. Sharma. Your son is not a topper.”

“I have received all his grade-sheets.”

“I will get you the originals. But that is not the point–”

“That is the point!”

“Mrs. Sharma. You know something, don’t you?” Rupali saw her fidgeting uncomfortably and addressed her directly.

“Y… Yes,” she looked at her husband guiltily and then looked down as she spoke, “The grade-sheets you got were tampered–”

“How can that be? They come directly from the institute, right?” he looked at Rupali for confirmation and then looked back at his wife, “How could he tamper them?”

“He didn’t. I did.”

“What?”

“I knew you would be mad and I wanted to protect him.”

Mr. Sharma stared agape at his wife. Rupali sighed. She was relieved that the situation was clear and Mr. Sharma won’t be able to hold the institute at ransom. At the same time, she felt sad for the boy. No wonder he was so stressed. She had spoken with him earlier and tried to convince him that he was doing pretty well with the academics and he need not take all the stress. But he never appeared to be at peace. Even multiple sessions with a therapist had not been helpful. He must have been distressed after the exams yesterday and made a call to the counseling service late at night. It came to her as she was on the pager duty and she had failed to respond in time…

Thank God, he survived. But if he hadn’t? Rupali shuddered to think of the possibility. She realized that Dr. Khanna had covered for her. She had to find him to thank him. But first Rakesh’ parents needed counseling. She turned her attention back to Mr. and Mrs. Sharma. Mr. Sharma was crestfallen.

“He hadn’t been doing well in his studies and to top that both of you have been lying to me. Let him wake up. He needs a piece of mind.”

“Mr. Sharma, please!” Rupali’s voice was confident and stern this time, “You will do no such thing unless you have decided that you want to lose your son for good.”

“What do you mean?” he didn’t like a young woman talking down at him.

“What I mean is that your son is a living being, an individual, not a medal you can wear on your chest. Let him be. He is doing fine. By putting him under so much pressure, you are doing him no good, only harm.”

“You don’t need to interfere. This is between me and my son.”

“Really? And just a while back you were ready to take on the entire institute and me because you thought we were holding him responsible for his condition. Mr. Sharma, he is not responsible. You are. And if it is between you and your son, we will do what an outsider strictly should. We will report it as a suicide attempt to the police, suspend him from the college and then you can deal with it, all right?”

“You are threatening me?”

“No. Only showing you a mirror. Everyone here, the institute, all of us, care about Rakesh. It’s high time you did the right thing for him too. Take your time and make your decision. I will wait for you in the hospital reception area.”

Rupali stormed out of the waiting area. She met Paritosh while walking towards the reception. She realized that he had witnessed her exchange with Rakesh’ parents and became nervous again.

“I messed up again, didn’t I?” she asked.

“It was unusual, but I think you did well.” Paritosh’ reply surprised her.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper. He might try to do something against the institute.”

“We will see. I think you need some coffee. Let’s get a cup form the canteen.”

Rupali followed him.

The silence, as they sipped their coffee, was broken by Mrs. Sharma’s voice, “Hi!”

“Hello Mrs. Sharma. I–”

“Dr. Banerjee, right?”

“Yeah. Rupali Banerjee.”

“Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For telling my husband everything he needed to hear for years now. Hopefully my son will survive now; and live his life–”

“Mrs. Sharma. I lost my cool. But I do have his best interest in my mind.”

“I believe you.”

“Meet Dr. Khanna. Head of the Department for History,” Rupali introduced Paritosh to her not knowing where else to take the conversation.

“Nice to meet your, Dr. Khanna. If it is all right with you, we would like to take Rakesh with us as soon as possible. And he should be fit to come back in a few days.”

“Sure, Mrs. Sharma. We’d look forward to having him back. Our administration in-charge Ms. Meher Khan is here. She will help you finish the hospital formalities,” Paritosh replied.

—

To be continued

Her performance in the first semester had been great and she had been very active in extra-curricular activities as well. So, all the faculty members knew Rupali when the second semester started. The response she got from Dr. Paritosh Khanna was, therefore, a rude shock, when she came to the class five minutes late.

“May I come in, Sir?”

“No. The class has already started and you may not disturb the rest of the class.”

Rupali was so taken aback that she hadn’t known what to say for a few seconds. But she had found her voice, “I am sorry, Sir. But I was held up with preparations for the cultural festival. It was just a couple of minutes.”

“Leave now, Ms. Rupali Banerjee,” he had thundered. Rupali’s face had turned red at the humiliation. She had no option but to leave.

And it had continued, until it had become the established wisdom that it was fine to be late in Dr. Khanna’s class so long as you reached before Rupali. It was fine to get distracted and play games sitting on the last bench in his class if Rupali was not in the group. It was fine to be late in submitting the assignments so long as Rupali was not the one also late for that assignment.

She had to be thankful that his bias against her did not reflect in his grading. He was never unfair while grading her examination papers or assignments. But his dislike and grudge continued to annoy her; and she continued to try to overcome it by the only means she knew of impressing the teachers. Doing better in their subjects. She worked harder.

“Ah! So much hard work being put into the Medieval History project. You have a crush on Dr. Khanna, don’t you?” her best friend in the college, Sunidhi, had remarked.

“Crush? Have you gone mad? Why would I have a crush on someone who is so rude to me?”

“Precisely because of that. He is, like, out of bounds for you. The enigma. All other teachers and students  – you have them eating out of your hands, Ms. Rupali Banerjee.”

“Shut up, Ms. Sunidhi Mishra. Don’t you try your psychology major on me!”

In response Sunidhi had winked at her and had run away.

“Crush indeed! I would crush him, if I could,” Rupali had thought as she had returned to her project.

She came out of her thoughts as the clock struck two. Damn! She had a class at two. She rushed out picking up her notes.

—

“Sorry? No, Dr. Banerjee. It doesn’t work like this. Sorry can’t undo any damage,” Paritosh shouted at her after he woke her up from her afternoon slumber at her home.

“I… I…” Rupali couldn’t think of anything in her defense. It was indeed a grave mistake. She had forgotten that she had to give an exam. Students kept waiting and she did not reach the examination hall. She was highly embarrassed. But what was she to do now? It had already happened. Paritosh was not doing anything to make it easier for her.

“Dr. Banerjee. We are an autonomous institute. We have a lot of academic freedom and we pass that on to the faculty members. You are free not to give the exams and assess the students in other ways. But when you do schedule an exam, you can’t just vanish leaving the students waiting. This unprofessionalism is not acceptable.”

“I don’t have any explanations, Sir,” she spoke in a defeated voice, “A mistake is made. I cannot undo it. But I’m ready to take any punishment for it that you deem fit.”

“Punishment!” Paritosh snorted, “What harm is a punishment going to undo? Anyway. Apologize to the students and work with the admin to reschedule the examination. Make sure that the students are not inconvenienced. As far as possible. Check the schedule of exams for other courses. We will discuss anything else later.”

“Yes Sir.”

—

“You need an outing, Dr. Banerjee,” Sunidhi suggested when Rupali called her and told her about horrible day.

“I’m in no position to plan anything.”

“Don’t worry about that. I am relatively free today. I will come to your home by six in the evening and pick you up. We will go to a disco or something and have some fun. Auntie is not there at home, right?”

“Yeah. Mom has gone to Kolkata.”

“Done then. A night out, like in college days.”

After roaming around in various cities since her graduation, Sunidhi had done her MBA and settled down with a well-paying job in Mumbai. Rupali was glad to have her best friend in the same city after she came back to India. It was definitely a huge support in times like these.

“You know what, Sunidhi, the students will be more than happy that I didn’t turn up for the exam. But Dr. Khanna! He has to make me feel bad. I mean – yes. It was a stupid thing to do. But he was acting as if I have caused so much trouble to those students. I can bet we will spot many of them in the same disco tonight – celebrating not having to take an exam.”

“I agree! But it’s okay, Rupali. Let bygones be bygones. And he is the head of the department. In his position, what do you expect him to do? He can’t laugh it off, can he?”

“May be. But just as I had started to believe that his grudges were a thing of past, this had to happen.”

When Rupali entered the disco with Sunidhi, she forgot all about her work-related worries and didn’t pay attention to her constantly ringing mobile.

—

They came out at half past three in the morning after partying and dancing. That’s when Rupali noticed several missed calls on her mobile. At around ten in the night, there were five calls from a student. This was followed by calls from couple of different phone numbers at the college. And finally there were more than ten calls from Paritosh, the last one at a quarter to three.

Rupali panicked. She called Paritosh back. He spoke calmly, but she could guess that something had gone wrong when he gave her the address of a hospital and asked her to come there.

The student, Rakesh Sharma, who had called her, had tried to commit suicide by slitting his wrists.

“He had tried calling you, Rupali. You hold the pager for counseling forum for this week, right?”

Rupali could not meet his eyes as she nodded, “Yes Sir.” She, then, asked hesitatingly, “Is he… in danger?”

“No. He is out of danger.”

“But… it will… become a police case or…”

“The director has taken care of that. The news won’t go outside. We have informed the parents also. They will be here tomorrow to take him with them until he recovers.”

Rupali didn’t have the guts to say sorry, “Sir. You can go home and take rest. I will stay here.”

“It’s okay. There isn’t much time left to sleep anyway. I will stay over as well.”

Rupali was heartily thankful that he didn’t scold her just then.  Her guilt was already too much to bear. If he had hurled any stinging words at her, she’d have broken down.

—

To be continued

“Rupali Banerjee! What a surprise!” Prof. Paritosh Khanna had been given the papers of the new joinee to the department just a while back. So, his surprise was still genuine when Rupali was ushered in to meet him on her first day of the work.

She smiled while replying, “Surprise indeed! I had no clue that you were the HOD here. I was interviewed by Prof. Rao.” Paritosh noticed that her features were more mature than what he remembered. That was to be expected, he thought. He remembered her as an eighteen year old student. Eight years had passed since then.

“Yes. Please sit down. I was on a sabbatical for two years and was working as the director of a recently started social sciences institute in Delhi. I restarted here just a few days ago.”

“Interesting,” Rupali replied trying hard to hide her uneasiness. Paritosh noticed it, but decided not to bring it up.

“Anyway. So, welcome to the institute – a second time – this time as a faculty member. I hope you will have a great time here. You have already met Meher in admin, right?”

“Yeah. She is the one showing me around.”

“Good. Feel free to reach out to her for any help. And, of course, to me as well.”

“Sure. Thank you, Sir.”

“See you around. And yes – let’s schedule a meeting sometime early next week to discuss the courses you are going to teach this semester. Meher should be in the meeting and also Prof. Sinha, our representative to the course committee.”

“Will do that, Sir.”

—

Dr. Khanna had been friendly enough in the meeting, but Rupali was not happy to discover that he was the head of the department. She had practically run away from her life in the US. To find some peace, and stability. And this hadn’t been an auspicious beginning.

She remembered her days as a student in the same institute. She was mischievous by nature and was known to be a prankster. She was also careless and reaching the classes late or forgetting about a quiz was quite normal for her. But she got away with it most of the time. She was intelligent and did well even without working too hard; hence she was well-liked by the faculty members.

Not by Dr. Khanna though. He seemed to have taken a dislike to her early on. Rupali had noticed it during the first course she did under him in her second semester at the college. He was, generally, not one of the most approachable or friendly faculty members. But a delay of few minutes in reaching the class was not a big deal even for him. Except when it was Rupali who was late. Her friends had figured out that even if they were late for Dr. Khanna’s class, all they had to do was to reach there before Rupali. He would not care about anyone else. But he would not allow her in the class if she was late; and hence anyone else coming with or after her would also be banished.

She never accepted it before her friends, but his behavior really bothered her. Outwardly, she made fun of his attitude, but deep down, she took pride in being loved by all. Dr. Khanna was an irritant; his dislike for her was a blemish on her otherwise perfect world. She thought about confronting him sometimes, but could never gather the courage. But she could not let go either. So, she tried to work harder than usual in his courses. It showed on her performance, but not on his attitude. Beyond studies, she’d be on a look out for extra-curricular activities where he was the faculty advisor, participate and do well in those, but to no avail. She had tried everything possible in the first two years of her college to get into his good books, but he remained indifferent towards her at best; and grudging at worst.

In her third year, he had disappeared going on a long, unpaid leave. The opponent in a duel had suddenly vanished, and her hopes of conquering him were quashed. She had been frustrated.

For her post-graduation and Ph. D. she went to the US and over time forgot about her little teenage issue, until that morning.

“Hello, Dr. Banerjee. Welcome to the institute,” Meher had greeted her in the morning.

“Hi Meher. Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Same here. We will have a lot of paperwork to do the entire day, but the HOD is free right now. So, you should meet him first.”

“Dr. Rao?”

“Oh no! Dr. Rao has left. Dr. Khanna is back in his place.”

“Dr. Khanna? Dr. Paritosh Khanna?”

“Yes. You know him?”

“He taught me when I was studying here.”

“Oh! That’s great then.”

‘Not really,’ Rupali had thought wryly.

—

“Good afternoon everyone,” Paritosh was addressing the monthly departmental faculty meeting, “As you are already aware, the primary agenda for this meeting is to nominate people from the department for the various administrative positions. But before that we must welcome Dr. Rupali Banerjee to our department as an associate professor.” He waited as a formal round of applause followed, “Most of you might already have met her and if not, I’d request you to make your acquaintance as soon as possible, preferably right after this meeting. By way of introduction, Dr. Banerjee has been an undergraduate student in this institute and some of the older faculty members here, including me, have taught her then. So, I feel not only the joy, but also pride, in welcoming her here as an accomplished young faculty. She has done her MS and Ph. D. from the New York University. Her doctoral thesis as well as post-doctoral research has already made waves in the academic world. And so we have high hopes that the addition of this young blood in our team will hugely benefit the students as well as the department and its research output. Please welcome Dr. Rupali Banerjee.” Another round of applause followed which Rupali acknowledged gracefully. She thanked Paritosh and everyone else in the department for helping her settle in quickly and said that she looked forward to exciting times in their company.

Inwardly she wondered about the Paritosh’ generous words. Had he forgotten his earlier attitude towards her? May be. He had been teaching for so many years. So many students would have come and gone – every year a few of them would have been good students.  He couldn’t be expected to remember everything about each one of them. It was perhaps surprising enough that he remembered teaching her.

‘Anyway,’ she shrugged off her thoughts and tried to concentrate on the meeting, whose focus shifted to her again after a while.

“For the students counseling forum, Dr. Banerjee, I was thinking of nominating you from our department. You have been a student here and as one of the youngest faculty members, I believe you will be in the best position to connect with the students and help them with their problems. So, can we send your nomination?”

“Sure Sir. I will try to do my best,” Rupali gave a formal reply. There wasn’t much to discuss about the proposal. As a young hire, she’d be pushed into various administrative roles; that was a given in the world of academics. This one would be as good as any other. But she was surprised when Paritosh asked her to meet him in his office after the meeting.

“How is it going, Rupali?” he was using her first name in private, she noticed. After their first meeting they had met only for departmental meetings or on some formal occasions, where others were also present. There she had gotten used to being addressed as Dr. Banerjee by him. Any chance meetings in department corridors involved no more communication than a nod and a smile most of the time.

“It’s been fine. Thanks for asking.”

“I just wanted to have a quick word with you regarding the responsibilities as a member of the students counseling forum. About some of the things you would need to keep in mind.”

‘Of course, he doesn’t trust me to do it right,’ she thought to herself; but smiled outwardly, “Sure Sir. I’m sure I can do with some help.”

He laughed slightly at that surprising her, “No. I am not offering any help. You don’t need that, I am sure. But just wanted to give you a word of advice and caution. Most of the administrative tasks are looked down upon by the faculty members. But there are some which are very sensitive. Student counseling is one of them. The kind of things that bother young people deep down, the kind of issues they deal with, and the far-reaching effects that they can have, are beyond our wildest imaginations. Help and support at the right time can prevent many a disasters. Young students have some experiences for the first time and a lot of it can be confusing. Particularly for those staying in the hostels, who might have come away from their protective families for the first time. So, do take care of your students.”

“I will keep that in mind, Sir.”

“Good.”

‘He has started understanding a lot about the confusions of the young students,’ she thought almost bitterly as she recalled her first brush with Paritosh several years ago.

—

To be continued