Mish' Fiction

Paritosh remained silent for most part during the meeting Rupali had organized with other faculty members interested in collaborating with her on research. But he observed keenly as she discussed the research possibilities with her colleagues, refined the research questions, broke them down into actionable hypotheses and figured out what kind of help they would need from outside to carry those out.

“Obviously, we can’t have Ph. D. students right now, but we should look at hiring some research associates. And we need not look at people from particular disciplines. We should just hire good, intelligent people so long as they are interested and passionate about the research questions. We can look at hiring statistics and engineering graduates as well. They bring a different perspective and are very good and quick with quantitative techniques.”

“But will we get the permission to hire graduates of non-humanities discipline?”

Rupali looked at Paritosh. “I will talk to the director. It should be possible. But we can’t pay them beyond the sanctioned maximum for Research Associates.” he said.

“If our sponsors agree to pay them more?” Rupali asked.

“It can’t strictly be their salary. But we will see… May be as scholarships or something,” he had to help her in whatever ways possible.

“That should do. Let’s write down the research proposals for the five projects we have discussed. Then I and Dr. Khanna will work on the presentation to be made to the possible sponsors. Our aim should be to write at least ten good papers based on these and then we can expect to have three or four accepted in the top journals.”

Paritosh could feel that the three other faculty members sitting in the room were excited and motivated. There was something satisfying about seeing her like this. The nervousness and lack of confidence he had witnessed in her earlier was not how he remembered her as a student. This confident Rupali, whom people willingly followed, was more reassuring.

—

“Paritosh. Am I disturbing you?”

“Mrs. Banerjee? What a pleasant surprise! Please come in,” Paritosh welcomed Mouli warmly into his office.

“I’m sorry. I have come without an appointment.”

“This isn’t the Prime Minister’s Office. You are welcome anytime.”

“That’s so sweet of you. I had come to pick Rupali up for a shopping sojourn! I thought I’d say ‘hi’ to you too.”

“That was a really good thought. I am so happy to see you here. What would you have? Coffee? Tea?”

“Nothing. Don’t bother with formalities. Rupali would be waiting for me.”

“Still–”

“Listen. I had to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind my dragging you into our social circle?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course not. It’s a pleasure, in fact.”

“That’s great. Then you shouldn’t decline my invitation to you for a dinner tomorrow evening?”

“What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. Just thought you could join me and Rupa for dinner. It’d be a change for all of us.”

“Does Rupali know?”

“Does either of us need her permission for this?”

“You are too clever with words, Mrs. Banerjee,” Paritosh laughed slightly, “No. We don’t need her permission. I’d be happy to join you.”

“Great then. Eight pm. Tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you.”

—

They were having coffee after dinner when Rupali got a call. She looked at the number and told Mouli, “It’s Sunidhi, Mom. I will be back in a while.”

“Sure.”

“Paritosh. I wanted to thank you for being a friend and mentor to Rupa. She really needs one.”

“You are embarrassing me by thanking me for that. It’s my duty.”

“She’s my daughter. And I have been a friend to her more than a mother. I know her strengths and weaknesses. Her father didn’t live long enough to be there for her. She didn’t have a responsible man in her life while growing up. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t do anything to fill that gap in her life. She has suffered because of that. She needs a strong, guiding hand. Can I extract a selfish promise from you? Can you promise me to look after her?”

“You are worried about something. What is it?” her anxiety did not skip Paritosh’ notice.

“She doesn’t know about it yet. But I’m not going to live long. I am suffering from breast cancer. I can’t hide for long though. Soon enough, if I don’t tell her, my condition would.”

“Oh!” Paritosh was so shocked that he could hardly say anything.

“Sorry to bring you in between all this. But I’m a selfish mother–”

“Don’t say that. In fact, I have to thank you for trusting me so much. It means a lot for me. Really!”

“Thanks, Paritosh. I will tell her soon enough. Till then keep this a secret. But please promise me that you will look after her after I’m gone. She is intelligent. But she does have tendency to stumble about in life. And I’d die peacefully, if I know someone is there to support her when that happens.”

“I promise, Mrs. Banerjee! But you must not worry so much. You have raised a responsible daughter and–” He paused because they heard Rupali’s footsteps. She was coming back.

“Everything okay?” Rupali sensed the tension in the room. But Paritosh managed the situation.

“Yes. Rupali. Can I trouble you for another cup of coffee?” he said.

“That’s no trouble at all. I will get one. Mom. Shall I get one for you too?”

“Yes, dear. That would be awesome.”

Paritosh quickly turned to Mouli to complete his assurance, “I will be with her as her friend. Always. You have nothing to worry about.” He had to blink back his tears as he grasped the gravity of the situation.

“Thank you,” Mouli pressed Paritosh’ hands in gratitude.

—

“Sir, this is Rohan Moitra. He is joining us as an RA today. I already told you about him. Rohan, this is Dr. Paritosh Khanna. Our HOD. Make sure you keep him happy, else your meager salary won’t be released,” Rupali introduced them with the joke.

“Hi Rohan. Welcome. And don’t worry about keeping me happy. The toughest person to please here is Dr. Banerjee herself. If she is happy, everyone else will be.”

“Thanks, Dr. Khanna. I know that. Have known her for a while now.”

“Shut up, Rohan,” Rupali protested, “Focus on work now. After this, you should go back to Meher. She will help you finish all the other administrative formalities. I will be in my office if you need me.”

“Yes Ma’am!”

“So, Rohan,” Paritosh started the conversation after Rupali left, “What made you take up this job at a Social Sciences institute? Rupali told me you are a Computer Science graduate.”

“Yeah. I have been doing Computer Science for last five years. It’s good, but I needed a break and a change. I was considering various options, including working for some NGOs, but this looked like the most solid and challenging opportunity.”

“How so?”

“Rupali has a vision. You got to take it seriously.”

“Yeah,” Paritosh smiled. It wasn’t only him. She still had that ability to make people want to agree with her, he thought fondly, “You have known each other for long?”

“On and off. I was with her in school for couple of year. . But my parents changed cities often, so we lost touch. We met again in the US. Thanks to IGSA[1] of the university.”

“You went to NYU too?”

“Yes. I was in Computer Science though.”

“Hmm… Nice.”

—

To be continued

“Whoa! What’s going on?” Rupali’s office door was open. Paritosh was passing by and saw Rupali sitting on her chair with her head buried in her hands. Her table was practically covered with papers.

“Three-fourth of the semester has gone by, but I can’t seem to get through with this paperwork. I am really out of my mind. Why does everything happen on paper here in the twenty-first century?”

Paritosh laughed out loud, “Welcome to Indian academia, Dr. Banerjee. What happened? Let me see if I can help you.”

“Will you?”

“Sure. Show me.”

“What am I supposed to fill up in all these fields?”

“Just leave them blank.”

“Really? They aren’t marked as optional.”

“Nobody is going to read them. If it comes back, we will see.”

“You really know your way around all this, don’t you?”

“Ten years in the system. One has to know.”

“Yeah. And this?”

“You didn’t do any business in US, did you?”

“No.”

“Then write N/A.”

“Is it that simple? Why can’t they phrase question more simply?”

Paritosh smiled and helped her fill several more forms.

“There is something else I need to discuss with you,” she said after the paperwork was done.

“Tell me.”

“I got e-mails from two of the faculty members from our department and another one from Sociology who would like to do something about my little challenge during the faculty meeting.”

“That’s good,” Paritosh looked more thoughtful than excited, “But do you know about our record of publications in international journals?” He wanted to ensure that she was aware of the challenge she was up for.

“Yes. The last one to be published in a worthy journal was your paper, four years back, in the Journal of Contemporary History. And since then you haven’t published much.”

“I got caught up in administrative work, especially with the Delhi stint, and honestly didn’t focus much on research.”

“You can focus again.”

“I don’t know. I have lost the momentum.”

“Then you can regain it,” she smiled, “Besides, there is ample contributions to be made on the administrative side of things too.”

“Raising money, I believe. And I have no experience whatsoever.”

“I know where to start. My family’s business. Their CSR arm has been sitting idle,” she said and added theatrically, “They can contribute towards education in the country.” It drew a smile from him. She continued, “You just have to be there.” Seeing him silent and thoughtful, she suddenly felt awkward about the entire conversation. Why was she assuming that he was with her in the fight? He might not want to do anything with all of this. Despite his encouragement. “Am I imposing on you?” she asked.

“Imposing? No. Not at all. I want you to succeed, Rupali. And anything I can do for that is good. Fix up the meeting.”

“Thanks a lot, Dr. Khanna. That’s a big morale booster.”

He smiled, “So, what is the plan? Funding is one part. What about the research ideas?”

“I was planning to kick start the entire effort with a group meeting. Would you join that?”

“Sure.”

“When will you be free?”

“Monday? I don’t have any classes or meetings.”

“I will check with everyone and let you know.”

“Great! I should get going now. I have a meeting with the director. Should I tell him that you are putting your army together?”

“Dr. Khanna!”

“Don’t worry. I am joking.”

—

Rupali had started going to Paritosh for advice often and he seemed to be happy to help her. She mentioned this to Mouli.

“He is a nice man!” was Mouli’s reaction.

“Seems like that Mom. You are fond of him, aren’t you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just like that. If you like him, it makes it easy for me to trust him. My own history of understanding people has not been that great.”

“Rupa. Darling – don’t be so hard on yourself because some people turned out to be jerks. There are good people in the world.” Rupali didn’t say anything, instead just smiled sadly. Mouli continued, “Also dear, you must think about your future, about settling down. You look settled in your job now. You need to find a partner too. Else the life will get lonely after a while.”

“Mom. Please. I have you. I don’t need anybody.”

“I’ll not live forever. No parent ever does.”

“Shut up. You will live long enough.”

“Rupa…” Mouli made to say something, but checked herself.

“What?”

“Nothing. I don’t want you to spoil your mood by pestering you. But do remember this. I will be worried about you.”

“Mom!”

“It’s okay. Let’s not talk about it now. Will you make me another cup of coffee?”

“Sure, Mom.” Rupali was happy to end the discussion.

—

“Coffee?” Paritosh peeped in from the door and asked Rupali. She was working late due to an upcoming deadline for a paper submission. Paritosh was known to work late nights in the office. So Rupali was not surprised to see him.

“Sure,” she replied and got up to go with him.

“I am not in a mood for the pathetic coffee of faculty canteen. How about we drive a little and go to Mocha nearby?”

“I am not fond of faculty canteen either!” Rupali replied.

“So, how is the paper coming along?” Paritosh asked after they had ordered their coffee at Mocha.

“It’s coming along well. Having a couple of good Ph. D. students would have helped though,” Rupali replied wryly.

“Ph. D. students? I can get you as many as you want. This country is degree crazy. ‘Good’ ones, that too in humanities, are what are difficult to come by.”

“I know!”

“Did the condition of Indian academia come as a surprise to you, Rupali?”

“No. Not really. I was well aware.”

“Why did you come back then? And don’t give me the politically correct answer you would have given in your job interview.”

Rupali laughed slightly at that. “It’s a tough one. But I guess that country was not my type. Too lonely, too aggressive for me.”

“Professionally?”

“No. Professionally I would have managed. I managed fine, in fact. But the day to day life, the interaction with people, the relationships – I just didn’t get it.”

“What was the problem?”

She sighed. “Multiple problems. But worst of all– Have you ever been in love?”

Paritosh managed to hide his discomfort at that sudden question and cleverly evaded it, “I am too old to answer that now. You tell me. Have you ever been?”

“More than once! At least I thought each time that I was in love,” she gave a sad, self-deprecating smile, “The problem was that I was good at understanding ghosts of history, but not the people of present. I managed to fall in love with some illusions every time. The real people behind them were just not right.”

“Hmm…” Paritosh noticed that she was staring down at the table, and not looking at him at all. It was as if she had started talking to herself. She spoke again before he could say anything.

“That’s just another way of saying that I didn’t understand people at all and made mistakes all the time. Relationships, friendship, anything. I started feeling lonely and scared. I needed to go someplace familiar, and safe. I had to come back to Mom.”

She suddenly stopped her ramblings and looked up guiltily at him, “I’m sorry. I am boring you with my meaningless blabbers.”

“You don’t have to be so self-conscious before me. You can trust me, Rupali.”

“I know. Shall we leave now?”

She was embarrassed about baring her heart like that. Paritosh wanted to comfort her, but figured that any such attempt on his part might only make her more uncomfortable. He called for the bill.

—

To be continued

“During our trip, that night, you didn’t have fever,” Sunidhi came to the point quickly.

Aditya sighed, but didn’t say anything.

So, Sunidhi continued, “What was it?”

“Let it be, Sunidhi.”

“No. I can’t let it be. You can trust me, Aditya. We are friends.”

“Please.”

“You may need help, Aditya,” Sunidhi went forward and held his hands, “You can trust me. Tell me.”

Aditya withdrew his hands, leaving Sunidhi slightly embarrassed. But she tried to appear unaffected.

“Don’t touch me, Sunidhi. There is filth around me – around my body and my mind…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was five years old when my Dad died. I hardly remember anything about him. My mother was heart-broken and clueless. She had been so dependent on him. She didn’t know how to take care of herself and me. My Dad’s family was quite conservative. But her parents took the matter in their hands and decided that she should remarry. She agreed and they found a nice guy for her, who was willing to accept me along with her. She was happy again. She had found a dependable husband for herself and a loving father for me. Only problem was…”

“Go on, Aditya.”

“His love for me was not fatherly.”

“What do you mean?” Sunidhi blurted and then she thought of a possibility, “Oh my God!”

“When I cried at night and he assured Mom that he will put me to sleep. He didn’t sing me lullabies though. He just violated me, used me. At first, I was so young that I could not even express what was wrong in whatever was happening to me. I would tell Mom that I didn’t like him. But she would scold me. She’d tell me how much he cared for me and I must be grateful to him and return the affection. And when I started understanding what was wrong… I felt too ashamed to say anything. And he kept going, sometimes by cajoling me, sometimes by threatening me. He told me that no one would believe me. And he was right. Mom never seemed to notice anything. Or she was probably just looking the other way. Too weak to protest. She needed him to support her and I… I was not somebody for whom she’d have fought. I couldn’t do anything. I was seventeen years old, when I left home for my studies. Since then, I have never gone back home. Mom keeps asking me to come. But even now she doesn’t seem to question why I behave this way. She doesn’t seem to understand that there has to be a good reason why I don’t go home, why I haven’t gone in all these years. She comes and stays with me sometimes. But she still doesn’t understand… Perhaps she wants to continue ignoring. I don’t know. But between all this, I am a damaged person. Physically and emotionally. Keep away from me, Sunidhi. I am no good for you. I am no good for myself.”

“Don’t say that. And stop blaming yourself,” Sunidhi was horrified, but she comforted him.

—

“Sir. I must tell you this…” Rupali was panting as she flung open the door to Paritosh’ office, only to find him in a meeting with couple of senior professors of the department.

“Yes? Rupali. Is there anything urgent?” He kept a straight face to hide his embarrassment.

“Uh… No… I am so sorry. I will come later,” she replied sheepishly and left, regretting her imprudence. She should have knocked and asked for permission.

Half-an-hour later, she heard a gentle knock on her door, even though it was open. She looked up to find Paritosh standing there, “Can I come in?”

“Yes – of course. Please,” she was baffled as she got up from her chair. The contrast between their behaviors increased her embarrassment even further. Even with an open door, he knocked and asked for her permission before coming in. And she hadn’t thought twice before barging though the shut door of his office. It was especially awkward because he was the one who was so senior to her. He deserved the courtesy more.

“I’m so sorry for coming in like that, Sir. It was extremely inappropriate. I… I don’t know…”

“Rupali,” he interrupted in a firm, decided tone, “Calm down. You can come into my office anytime you want. You have the right and you don’t need to be sorry. If I’m busy, I will tell you.”

Rupali was too surprised to speak for a few moments. What exactly was that? “That’s really… sweet… of your, Sir,” she finally managed to say, “But… Anyway…” Since he wasn’t blaming her there was no point in apologizing repeatedly, “I will behave myself.”

“You behave perfectly well,” his tone was still the same and it puzzled Rupali. He continued, “What was it that excited you so much?”

“Oh… That… Yeah. You remember you had met Aditya at Mom’s birthday party and observed that…”

“That he might have some issues? He looked anxious and afraid, yes.”

“Yes. Sunidhi was going through a bad phase those days. She and Aditya liked each other, but he was shying away and was unsure. He wanted her to move on.He was even trying to get a transfer to get away from her life. All the time he kept assuring her that it wasn’t about her. But it wasn’t much of a consolation for her. She was annoyed and depressed.

“It changed with your observation. I told Sunidhi about it and that got her thinking. She entertained the possibility that it might indeed be about his mental health. So now, apparently, she has been able to talk to him and he is getting help.

“That’s good to know. It is always better to get help early. But what was his problem?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask anything more than what Sunidhi willingly told me. But I wanted to let you know and also thank you for this. Sunidhi is my best friend and it feels really good to see her happy, finally.”

“So, they are together now?”

“Not really. She has decided to give him space and not pressurize him. She is even ready to let go, if he really doesn’t want the relationship. But now it doesn’t hurt her that much I think. She cared for him and she managed to do what was right for him. So, it works.”

“That’s really thoughtful of her.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I didn’t do anything.”

“The possibility you pointed out made all the difference. Nobody was thinking in that direction. By the way, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“You remember when I had forgotten to give an exam?”

“I remember everything about you, Rupali.”

Rupali wasn’t sure why it gave her goose bumps, when he said that. She tried to hide it and continued, “You had scolded me so much for that and the same night I had made a graver mistake by not attending to Rakesh’ call. But for that, you never scolded me. Why?”

Paritosh smiled, “Rupali. As the head of the department and as a senior faculty member, you would agree that it is my duty to mentor young faculty members and steer them in the right direction.”

“Of course.”

“When you forgot about the exam, it was clear from your reaction that you thought it was a trivial issue. I could see where that attitude came from. The students would find it cool if you laughed it off with them. So, why really bother, right? But as an educational institute, as much as we value individual’s freedom and choices, we cannot shirk from our responsibility of giving basic lessons in discipline and responsibility to the students. And that lesson has to come from the faculty. So, even if you are not naturally so, I think it is necessary and a part of your duty towards the institute, that you stay disciplined before your students. That’s what I was trying to impress upon you. Since you did not appear to see that for yourself, I had to scold you. I’m sorry if I was too rude.”

“No. Not at all.”

“About Rakesh’ call, however, one did not need to be a rocket scientist to know that you understood the gravity of your mistake and that you would not repeat it. What had already happened could not be reversed. So, nothing was to be achieved by scolding you.”

“And you helped me out instead.”

“I tried to.”

“You are too wise!” Rupali exclaimed, with almost a childish admiration and awe.

The innocence with which she said it made Paritosh laugh. Then he turned serious and said, “Given how you have turned out, Rupali, I think I directed you the right way. I just hope you do not hold any grudges against me.”

“None!” She replied quickly.

“That’s good to know. Thank you,” he said in a distant, yet almost intimate, tremulous voice she hadn’t heard before. He left immediately. She was confused. Why did he thank her? She should be the one thanking him. For everything!

—

To be continued

“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