Category: Original

Closing the Loop (Part 3)

Posted MishLeave a commentPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

“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

Closing the Loop (Part 2)

Posted MishLeave a commentPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

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

Closing the Loop (Part 1)

Posted Mish6 CommentsPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

“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

A Lost Soul (Part 4)

Posted Mish11 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

She didn’t cry when her father died. Barely had the rituals been over, when she came to him.

“I want to go somewhere else, Mukundo Babu. Will you arrange for that?”

“Where? Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Somewhere far…”

“Pihu…”

“Please Mukundo Babu.”

“Start going to the college Pihu. You have already lost a year.”

“Either you can send me, or I can run away.”

“Send you? I am not sending you anywhere. You tell me where you want to go. I will take you there.”

“No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“You can’t come with me.”

“You are not going anywhere…”

“You can’t stop me,” she was so determined that Mukundo knew she would act on her threat of running away. He couldn’t exactly have imprisoned her, could he?

“Pihu. I had promised Kaka to look after you,” he pleaded with her.

“And I had promised him not to be a burden on you.”

“You are not a burden on me, and if you want to do anything to make my life easier, take control of your life…”

“I didn’t run away, did I? I came to you, I asked you…”

“You need to stay here, Pihu. Who will look after your house, your property?”

“Who has done it since Baba had fallen ill? Even if I stayed, you are the one who would have to do it.”

“Why do you have to go away?”

“I don’t know,” she averted her eyes. “If you want, I won’t go away too far. Send me to Darjeeling.”

“If anything happened to you, Pihu…”

“I will come back to you before I destroyed myself. And no. Don’t worry. I won’t commit suicide.”

“Hanging yourself is not the only way to commit suicide. If you waste away your life…”

“Don’t stop me, Mukundo Babu.”

He gave up. “Fine. But I will come with you and ensure that you are comfortable before leaving you alone.”

“Okay.”

—

“After I am gone, and you have fewer things to worry about, you should get married Mukundo Babu.”

Mukundo glared at her. He had given in, and was making arrangements for her stay in Darjeeling. But he had made his displeasure known.

“Come on, Mukundo Babu. Don’t be angry at me. I need to go away…” her voice drowned.

“Do you feel anything? Anything at all? In that heart of yours? Do you know that there are people who care for you, who love you, and who feel hurt when you seem hell-bent upon destroying yourself?”

She did not reply, but surprised him by suddenly hugging him. Mukundo held her, and looked directly into her eyes. “Won’t you, ever, tell me what bothers you, Pihu?”

“If I will ever be able to articulate what does, who else will I tell that to, but you?”

“Don’t go away, Pihu.”

“I have to. And if you are lonely, you should get married.”

“I will get married, if you stayed back.”

She smiled, “What does my staying back has got to do with you getting married? Who will you marry?”

“You.”

She stood motionless for a moment. A blush almost crept up her face, but she camouflaged it behind a forced, amused chuckle, as she stepped away from her. “That’s a weird idea of a joke, Mukundo Babu. I need to go back home. I have to pack. We leave early morning, right?”

—

Mukundo settled her in Darjeeling and came back reluctantly. She didn’t stay there for long though. She wanted to travel more. She travelled all around the country. She always informed him, even gave him the addresses where she was staying. Initially Mukundo was suspicious. When she gave him a hotel’s address in Delhi, he landed there unannounced and was relieved to actually find her there.

“You don’t trust me Mukundo Babu?” she smiled at him.

“Do you blame me for it? What are you doing here anyway?”

“Nothing. Spending time in this nice hotel room.”

“We can travel together Pihu, if that is what you want to do.”

“I have dropped out of college, but you have your job.”

“I don’t need that job.”

“I can’t have you leave everything for me. I promise you I won’t commit suicide Mukundo Babu. And you will always know where I am. And if I die, I will die in your arms.” She had chuckled at her own joke, while Mukundo had not found it funny at all.

“Shut up, Piyali.”

She had kept her promise, always told him where she was, and they talked on phone regularly. Until one day she announced that she was going on some trek in Himalayas and her phone won’t be reachable for at least a month.

“A month?” Mukundo had been alarmed.

“Don’t worry, Mukundo Babu. There are others.”

—

Mukundo had been counting days. It had been over a month and she hadn’t called. She had been so terrified of him coming after her and stopping her that she hadn’t even told him where she was going. He had been pacing in his lawn one evening when he heard the familiar voice.

“Mukundo Babu.”

What he saw shocked him to the core.

“Pihu! What’s the matter? What has happened to you?”

“Don’t come near me, Mukundo Babu. You might fall ill too.” She coughed hard.

She was wrapped in a shawl and at least two layers of sweater. Still she looked thin like she was starving. What had happened to her full, rosy cheeks and big, beautiful eyes? This shrunken face couldn’t be that of Piyali, could it? But it was. . She was carrying nothing other than a large purse. He ignored her warning, went near her and hugged her. He took her inside and called up the doctor before saying even a word to her.

“Will you explain?” he spoke to her sternly.

“I will try,” she smiled weakly, “But I am really tired, Mukundo Babu. Won’t you let me sleep for a while?”

She looked so miserable that Mukundo had a tough time in controlling himself. He could have given into tears.

“Will you eat something?”

“No. I am just thirsty.”

He got her some juice and she slept off on the living room sofa itself.

“I am too tired, Mukundo Babu,” she said when he asked her to go to one of the rooms.

—

“I will do the tests, but I am sure it is tuberculosis,” the experienced doctor said as soon as he saw her.

“That can’t be too bad, right? Just medicines and rest…”

“I think so…” he said.

Mukundo woke Piyali up so that the doctor could take samples for testing. After that he helped her to the gues room so that she could rest.

Doctor had done the tests on a priority basis and soon the results were confirmed. It was tuberculosis. Treatment started immediately and the doctor was surprised that he had been called in so late.

“You had promised me that you would take care of yourself,” Mukundo complained to her.

“I had promised you that I’d die in your arms,” she smiled.

“You won’t talk to me like that.”

“Don’t be angry at me, Mukundo Babu.”

“How can I not be?”

“If your last words to me were angry before I died, you will…”

“Piyali!” he was getting angrier.

“The last thing I had ever told Ma was that I hated her. Because she wouldn’t let me go outside to play on a hot, summer afternoon. She was trying to protect me, but I had raised hell. She had said that I won’t realize how precious she was until she was dead. And then she died Mukundo Babu… She died…”

Mukundo stared at her in stunned silence. It was clear that her mother’s death had affected her deeply. But she had never talked about it in past. Mukundo had started suspecting that childhood memories had faded away for her, even though their impact had stayed.

But apparently they hadn’t. He went and sat beside her. Tears were now flowing freely from her eyes. “She didn’t realize that I loved her, Mukundo Babu. I should never have said that. She left me…”

Mukundo remember her plea to her father in her drunken state. “I do love you Baba. Don’t leave me…”

Is this what had been plaguing her all these years? That self-loathing, that darkness…

It took him sometime to find his voice. “It was an accident Pihu. It was an accident…”

But she continued crying and he realized that the pain was too deep-seated to be relieved with logic.

“I hurt Baba a lot,” she spoke through her tears and sobs, “I didn’t know how to face him. He loved her so much and she died.”

Mukundo held her hand, but despite a strong urge to do so, did not try to stop or console her. Finally she was talking! He needed to hear it all out.

“Kakima had asked him to get married again,” she referred to Mukundo’s mother who was alive at that time. “He had refused. I didn’t know how to face him and I hurt him so much.”

No psychiatrist, no friends, no well-wisher had been able to figure out in all these years what was eating her up. Because of crying, her nose was clogging. He helped her sit up and gave her some water to drink. Then he sat down beside her and put his arms around her, pulling her close.

“Why did you never talk to me, Pihu?” he asked after a while.

She did not reply and slept off in his arms.

—

Mukundo was grim-faced as he came to her room.

“The antibiotics are not working Mr. Thakur,” the doctor had informed him, “A new incurable strain of TB has been reported recently. I am afraid…”

“Don’t look so sad, Mukundo Babu,” she said.

He forced a smile. “I’m not sad.”

“Don’t be, even after I am gone.”

“Where are you going? I am not letting you go anywhere even if I have to imprison you this time.”

“When have you succeeded in stopping me from doing what I wanted to do?”

He could not force his smile any longer. “You like torturing me, don’t you?” he said, his eyes moistening.

“I do love you, Mukundo Babu. I never said that, but I do. I have always loved you. And loved you in ways that knows no name, no limit. But those whom I love are cursed. My going away with save you from that curse.”

“Shut up. Just shut up,” he broke down.

“In this birth, Mukundo Babu, I was a lost, restless soul. I wasted my life. And troubled you so much. But I will do better in next birth. I promise.” He hugged her tight and cried his heart out.

—

“Mukundo Babu. I have given you nothing while I lived except troubles, tears and pain. I did not even help you in things that mattered to you. I cannot give you anything even in my death that you don’t already have. So, I am leaving whatever Baba left me for those who matter to you. Half of my inheritance in my will is left for Hope Foundation. I never contributed in person. It might make up a bit for that. The other half is left in your name. Gift it to your kids from their insane aunt. Do get married, Mukundo Babu.

Despite everything, I am presumptuous enough to think that you would value this reiteration – that I have loved you. Always. Deeply. More than I would have had the ability to express even if I wasn’t so broken.

Your life-long bother
A lost soul
Pihu”

Sonelal found Mukundo sleeping at his bedroom door, just like Piyali had done all those months ago, with the letter clutched to his heart. He wondered if he should wake him up. He decided against it. It was after several days that Mukundo had fallen asleep. Uncomfortable as his position was, some sleep would do him good.

He woke up in the wee hours of morning and paced up and down the living room, lost in thoughts. Later in the day he made a call to his lawyer.

“Yes. We need to register an orphanage and women’s shelter. What she has left to me should go to this organization,” he spoke on phone.

He unfolded the letter once again after disconnecting the call. “You think only you can do things your way. If I wasn’t stubborn, I couldn’t have loved you so much, Pihu. If you will come to me only in next birth, then I will marry only in next birth.” He took out a pair of ear-rings from his pocket and as he kissed them tears flooded his eyes again.

– The End –

A Lost Soul (Part 3)

Posted Mish1 CommentPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

After a fitful sleep of few hours, he gave up by five in the morning. There would be no point in going to her for riyaaz that day. He went to the attached bathroom to wash up; then came out of his room to the strange sight of Piyali sleeping at his bedroom’s door. She was sprawled on the floor with her back resting against the wall.

“What the…” Mukundo was exasperated. He looked for Sonelal, his housekpeer.

“When did she come?” he tried not to shout to avoid waking her up.

“About an hour back. I was still sleeping.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Didi won’t let me.”

“Then she should have waited in the guest room or living room…”

“I told her Dada, begged her to… She wouldn’t listen. She walked aimlessly around the house for a while and when I next saw her she was sleeping here. I didn’t know what to do.”

Mukundo shook his head in disbelief and went to her.

“Pihu. Get up Pihu. Sleep in a bed…”

She opened her eyes with difficulty. He helped her get up and put her to sleep in his own bed. Then he sent Sonelal to her house to inform Promila, before going back in the room.

—

He was sitting in a rocking chair sipping tea and reading newspaper when she woke up.

“Good morning,” she said in a small voice while rubbing her eyes.

“What is good about this morning, Piyali?”

He was angry! He wasn’t calling her Pihu. She gulped and stayed silent.

“Why did you come here at that unearthly hour?”

“I thought you wouldn’t come to me in the morning. That’s why…” she gave an explanation which would have been absurd, if it weren’t she who was giving it, and if it wasn’t Mukundo who was listening to it.

“Why should I have come? Were you in any position to even wake up, much less do riyaaz.”

“If I stopped singing, you would never come to me?”

He sighed, “I am very angry at your Piyali. And you can’t distract me from that. You were drunk last night.”

The memories and the mortification of last night returned to her.

“Do you understand,” he got up from the chair and stood close to her near the bed, “That you are not a little girl anymore. You are a grown woman and people can take advantage of you.”

“Are you listening to me?” he roared and she jerked in fear. This kind of anger from him was a first.

“Mukundo Babu…” she was incredulous.

“I feel like slapping you. Hard. But if Kaka doesn’t do it, what right do I have?” he was still thundering.

“I. Am. Sorry,” she said in a low, but clear voice.

It had an immediate effect on Mukundo. She didn’t apologize; not often. She must have gotten his point. His anger cooled off.

“Go home and apologize to Kaka.”

She nodded and got down from bed.

“Wash you face before leaving,” he reminded her.

She nodded like an obedient child and went to his bathroom.

He remembered something else just as she was leaving.

“Pihu!”

She turned to face him expecting to be admonished further.

“Last night you said something weird. You told Kaka to not leave you, to not… Why?”

Her face lost whatever colour there was left.

“Why Pihu?” he asked again, firmly, but gently.

“He. Has. Cancer.” She replied slowly, measuring her words, as if scared of uttering them.

Mukundo wasn’t as shocked as he should have been. Her knowing this could have been the only explanation of what she had said. “How do you know?” he asked in a concerned, soft voice.

“You knew?” she asked in return.

He didn’t reply.

“Of course, you did,” she said sadly, “That’s where you have been taking him recently, haven’t you? To see the doctor.”

“Who told you?”

“Nobody. I saw the report.”

How? She hardly stepped into her father’s room, except when needed. And the report was safely tucked away in the cupboard. But he did not ask. Interrogating her would not be a comfort to her.

Silent tears started falling from her eyes.

“Come here,” he mumbled as he drew her in his embrace, “Stop worrying. He is going to live for many, many years. And then, I am there for you, am I not? You have nothing to fear, Pihu. Nothing at all. Stop crying.”

She looked flushed as she withdrew from the hug.

“I will go home.”

“Shall I drop you?”

“No. I am fine.”

“Tell Promila that I will have breakfast there with you and Kaka. Okay?”

She nodded and left.

Mukundo noticed her ear-rings  in the bathroom before leaving for her home. He put them in his kurta’s pocket with the intention of giving those back to her.

—

When Mukundo walked in, he noticed that Piyali had already taken a bath. She was sitting at the dining table wearing a light blue salwar-kameez, her long, washed hair wetting her back. She was serving something on three plates, presumably one each for herself, her father and Mukundo. He stared at her silently for a few moments. Things had changed. They had changed a lot. What he had told her that morning was true. She was a grown up woman now. And he had become acutely aware of that when she had turned to him dancing like that… He felt for her ear-rings in his pocket, meaning to take them out. Then he decided against it and kept them back. He took a deep breath before making his way near her.

“Shall I call Kaka?” he asked.

“Hmm,” she nodded without looking at him.

There was an awkward tension at the dining table as all of them picked at their food. Mukundo had already informed Mr. Banerjee that Piyali knew about his condition.

“Pihu,” Mr. Banerjee decided to break the ice.

“Don’t talk about last night Baba,” she preempted him.

“I am not scolding you, Shona…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” there was an edge in her voice. Mukundo looked at her disappointedly. She felt his eyes on her and said in a subdued voice, “I am sorry. About everything.”

Mr. Banerjee sighed, “You need to get yourself together, child. You already know about my condition. What do you plan to do? Be a burden on Mukundo all your life?”

She looked up startled; then said slowly, “No. No. I won’t do that.”

—

Debendra Banerjee’s health deteriorated faster than Mukundo had expected. Piyali spent a lot of time by her bedside; still not talking much. When she was not around him, she was often in horrible mood, screaming at slightest of the problems, running out of the house for hours, and she had practically stopped attending college. When Mukundo sat with her, and tried to make her talk, she would cry for hours. She would even be calm around him, but he had his job and other work to manage as well.

“Where are you going?” she came to his house once to find his getting ready to step out.

“For some work. Do you need me?”

“For Hope Foundation’s work?” she asked about his NGO.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

He hesitated before answering, “Sonagachi.” It was the biggest red light district of the city.

“Take me with you.”

“No. Not there.”

She laughed, almost bitterly, “I couldn’t be at risk there, Mukundo Babu. With so many willing women…”

“Shut up,” he didn’t like how she talked. And it wasn’t the men frequenting that place that he was worried about. He was worried about her. What if it gave her ideas… He shivered at the thought… He hated not being able to trust her with her well-being. But what was the option? She came to him to seek peace. She let him see the best and worst of her.And yet – even he didn’t know the source of that self-destructive darkness within her, which engulfed all the brightness of her mind and heart.

“You work with women there. I can be helpful…”

“When you grow up to be a responsible woman, I will take you there. For now, if you want to help, come to the school tomorrow.”

She didn’t come to the school. She was not at home at all at that time.

He found her by Mr. Banerjee’s bed one morning. She was awake the entire night, as her bloodshot eyes revealed.

“What are you doing?” he had dragged her out, “You have to stay well.”

“He was in lot of pain.”

“You can’t relieve his pain by torturing yourself.”

“You are right, as usual,” she said and walked off to her room, hopefully to sleep. Although that meant she won’t go to college again that day.

—

To be continued

A Lost Soul (Part 2)

Posted Mish3 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

She talked so little to her father. Once in a while when she did, it was often in the form of shouting or quarreling for no reason. It made him an unhappy man, and it broke Mukundo’s heart too. After his wife’s death, he had been living solely for his daughter. His helplessness and pain were evident to everyone.

And yet – it was not possible to dismiss her as an insensitive soul. It was the same girl who would spend the entire night by her father’s bedside if he fell ill. One person she did defer to was Mukundo, although she fought with him. There was an inexplicable pain he saw her dealing with about which nobody was able to do anything. It manifested sometimes in her self-loathing and at others in her hatred and distrust of the entire world. But he had never seen her articulate it as well as during their Gourinagar trip. It was a village of displaced farmers, who were still waiting for their compensation, pitiable as it was going to be. Mukundo ran an NGO, which, among other people, worked with these farmers too.

“What is the point of living, of life, Mukundo Babu?” she asked as they made their way back to their little hut-dwelling one evening.

He got alarmed, but realized that she looked thoughtful, not suicidal. “Everybody finds their own reason, Pihu.”

“What is your reason? Why do you live?”

“I live for the beauty that is there in the world… I live to be able to create something. Creation is powerful… I live for people…”

“For people like these… Here in this village…”

“Them too, yes.”

“And what is the point? They still whine and curse their luck.”

“They are poor, displaced farmers, who are struggling to stay alive. What do you expect from them? Just because we mean well, things don’t get well for them.”

“How would it matter if they died?”

“Because they are poor?”

“No. How would it matter if even we died?”

“Life is a precious thing. It is our duty to preserve it. That is why God has given us the instinct to preserve it. Why are you talking like this?”

She jerked out of her thoughts on realizing what he might be thinking. She smiled at him sadly, “No. Don’t worry Mukundo Babu. I might not be sane, but I am not suicidal either. I am too much of coward to commit suicide.”

“Committing suicide is cowardice, Pihu. Staying alive is not.”

“Nah! That’s just philosophical nonsense. I will never commit suicide, because I am too afraid of pain. The physical pain that would invariably precede death. Would you be able to cook some fish tonight, Mukundo Babu? I am tired of eating dal and vegetables every day.”

“Let’s take a detour to the market to see if some fish is available.”

At the end of the trip, he had asked her, “Will you come again?”

“I don’t know. Probably no. Why?”

“I can use your help, Pihu, in my work. Here. Or even back in Kolkata.”

She had chuckled, “So that I have something to keep me occupied? And I don’t go around acting insane? No Mukundo Babu. That would be a very selfish reason to impose myself on the poor, unhappy people you are trying to help. I won’t work with you.”

“Previous semester’s results will be declared tomorrow,” he had changed the subject, “I hope you hadn’t left your answer sheets blank in the exam.”

“No,” she had said matter-of-factly, as if there was nothing amusing or extra-ordinary about the question.

—

“Where is she, Mukundo?” Mr. Banerjee called him at eleven at night.

“I will go and bring her back,” he replied.

“Why don’t you tell me where you find her? You don’t have to do all the running around yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me, Kaka. I am fine. You please take rest. Go to sleep. It’s so late…”

“How can I, Mukundo? How can I?”

“I’m leaving right away.”

He knew where she would be. The jamming place, which was more about drugs and drinks than music. He had found her there several times earlier too. And she would just go completely silent if he tried to admonish her, or make her talk about what took her there.

“Are you taking drugs?” he had asked.

She had shaken her head on that – the only reply he ever got.

Mukundo felt nauseous as he entered the place amidst loud and erratic cacophony of musical instruments. How could Piyali stand this? Piyali – with such a soulful voice and such natural grasp of the all that was beautiful, serene, soothing about music. His Piyali! He looked around anxiously for her and was shocked. Earlier she would usually be lying in a corner by herself, quiet. Today the sight of her would have put the scenes from hippie movies to shame. Why was she dancing like that? He walked as fast as he could through the maddening crowd to reach to her group. She suddenly turned with her chest thrust out swaying wildly to the tune of some song Mukundo did not recognize. He didn’t want to think of the word lewd, but what else was it? She froze as she saw him. It was as if suddenly someone had jolted her out of an alternate world and brought her back to the reality. The expressions of shame and guilt washed over her face as she withdrew. Mukundo must have looked very angry, because by the end of it she looked terrified and she ran out. He could not follow her as swiftly, but when he did catch up with her, she was waiting near his car looking dull and depressed. Thankfully she hadn’t run off. He opened the passenger door and she went in meekly. He drove silently, acutely aware of the smell of alcohol coming from her. She fell asleep by the time they reach home.

“Mukundo Babu,” she looked at him and giggled, as he woke her up and helped her out of the car. The alcohol and sleep seemed to have erased the memory of her earlier mortification. “I knew you would come. I had no money to come home.”

“Why didn’t you have money?”

“I gave it all away.” Mukundo believed her. She was capable of doing that.

“Why didn’t you take the car?”

“I hate that car.”

Despite feeling a strong urge to give her a piece of mind, Mukundo knew that she was in no condition to listen or understand. As he supported her wobbling form through the short walk to the door, he hoped that Promila, and not Mr. Banerjee, would open the door.  But his hopes were quashed.

“Piyali!” the alcohol was impossible to miss.

Mukundo silently continued taking her to her room, when she spoke to both their surprise.

“Baba. Baba – I do love you Baba.”

What was up with sudden proclamation of love!

“Don’t leave me Baba. Please don’t die…” And she passed out again.

Mukundo and Mr. Banerjee stared at each other wide-eyed for a moment. Then Mukundo proceeded to take her to her bedroom. He made her lie down on the bed, took off her sandles and tucked her in. He stared at her innocent face for a moment before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

“Go to sleep, Kaka,” he preempted Mr. Banerjee’s attempts to talk, “She is safe. We will talk tomorrow.”

He himself was more anxious than usual that day.

—

To be continued

A Lost Soul (Part 1)

Posted Mish8 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“What happened, Kaka?” Mukundo ran into Banerjee household after having received a call form Debendra Banerjee that he was needed there. He had just returned from university.

“Another one of her episodes Mukundo. She hasn’t eaten anything since last evening. No dinner. Didn’t have breakfast, or lunch today. She won’t even come out of her room…”

“Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

Debendra Banerjee threw up his hands with a guilty and resigned look. Mukundo understood that. Mr. Banerjee just didn’t know what to do about his daughter. Ever since she had lost her mother as an eight-year-old, things had gone haywire. She would alternate between being violently aggressive and alarmingly dull. Sometimes she would work hard for a month before exams and do very well. At other times, she would leave her answer paper empty. Sometimes she listened to her father, and at other times shouted at him and left home in a huff. Mukundo was usually her ultimate cure, but Mr. Banerjee felt very guilty about disturbing him all the time for Piyali. The two families were very close. Right from the time of Mukundo and Piyali’s grandfathers. Mukundo’s deceased father and Mr. Banerjee were childhood friends.

“I told you to leave me alone,” Piyali screamed wildly when Mukundo knocked at her door.

“Open the door, Pihu. It’s me.” He waited in silence. She opened the door after half a minute or so, then walked away from him to stand near the window. He shut the door before going after her.

“What has happened?” he asked gently.

“Nothing.”

“Sane people don’t stop eating and start locking themselves up their rooms because of nothing.”

“Who told you I am sane?”

“Insane people have their reasons too; even if those are twisted.”

She appeared to be seething in anger, but stood tight-lipped.

“Is it something I did?” he asked patiently.

“Why did you stop me from eating yesterday?”

“Stop you from eating? When?”

“In the evening.  At the mall.”

“You were having ice-cream.”

“So what?”

“You know you are prone to cold. And it will spoil your voice.”

“So what if it does. What will the world lose?”

“I don’t know about the world, but I don’t want to lose this sweet voice. You know how much I like hearing you sing…”

“You never come for riyaaz with me anyway…”

“I had to grade papers Pihu. Had a deadline to meet.”

“And Gourinagar to go to… And so many other things to do…”

“Okay. Listen to me,” he smiled indulgently, held her by her upper arms and turned her around to face him, “I have submitted the grades today. It is winter holidays and I won’t go to Gourinagar for at least a week. Okay? I am here for you. Now come out and eat. You have brought the entire world on its knees.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Enough. Come out now,” he said gently, and took her hand. Even though she did not look reconciled, she followed his lead. She did not meet either her father’s or the fussing housekeeper’s in eyes as she sat down at the table. Still looking cross, she ate whatever was put on the plate before her, while Mukundo sat beside her.

—

“Why do you hesitate so much Kaka? You should have called me last night itself,” Mukundo was talking to Mr. Banerjee later in the evening.

“What will happen to this girl, Mukundo? What is wrong with her?”

“Nothing is wrong with her, Kaka. We have already taken her to every psychiatrist and all kinds of doctors in town.”

“And yet, she can’t be trusted to be on her own, can she? And after me…” his voice drowned.

“After you? Why are you talking like that…” Mukundo did not continue as Mr. Banerjee was not listening to him. He had gotten up absent-mindedly and was walking towards the cupboard of his room. He took out a paper and handed it to Mukundo.

Puzzled, Mukundo opened it to get the shock of his life. “Cancer?” he asked tentatively, hoping against hope that he had read the report wrong.

“Bone cancer,” Mr. Banerjee confirmed, “Third stage. Difficult locations. Won’t be cured.”

“When did you…”

“Last week… I didn’t pay attention to the pain earlier, thinking it was age… I have been careless.”

“Kaka. Surely there is something…”

“Mukundo, my son,” he stopped him, “I am not worried about myself.  Sooner or later, I have to go. I had just hoped that this girl will be a bit more stable by then, as the doctors had assured. That she would settle down as she grew up. But there are no signs…”

“She is eighteen Kaka… It’s not exactly the age when people stabilize…”

“I know…” Mr. Banerjee closed his eyes, as if trying to hide the helplessness they will betray.

“Two things, Kaka,” Mukundo spoke, “Firstly, I don’t believe that we have to give up on your health. There are so many treatments available these days…. Secondly, whatever happens, you can trust Piyali to me…”

“That is what I have done all these years too, Mukundo. She has hardly been my cup of tea. But she is not the only one I am worried about. You too… Your parents would have expected me to ensure that you settle down, but…”

“You have tried, Kaka,” Mukundo smiled, “But you know where I stand on that. I have no interest in getting married.”

“Life is long Mukundo…”

“We’ll see. Right now, you must calm yourself down and stop worrying. Piyali would be in my care. Always. And take me to the doctor on your next appointment. When is it?”

“This Sunday.”

“Okay Kaka. And don’t say anything to Piyali yet. Leave that to me.”

Mr. Banerjee nodded.

—

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Mukundo woke Piyali up next morning at 6.00.

“Mukundo Babu. What are you doing here? At this time?”

“Somebody was complaining yesterday that I don’t accompany her for riyaaz. Whatever happened to that! Wash your face and come quickly. I will be in the music room.”

Debendra Banerjee looked on quietly as Piyali practiced a long aalaap, before the mukhda at whose sam Mukundo expertly started playing tabla to accompany her. She looked so serene, so calm, so much in control. Why could she not be like this otherwise?

Mukundo noticed him after a while and was about to interrupt the riyaaz when Mr. Banerjee indicated silently to him to go on and not bother about him. He left the room after a while.

“You will be all right today?” he asked after they finished the riyaaz. She nodded.

“What bothers you so much, Pihu?”

“Nothing. Why should anything bother me? Nothing bothers me.”

“Something does.  Every once in a while.”

“If I trouble you too much, you can just say so,” she grew cross.

He sighed, “No. You don’t trouble me. That is not what I meant.”

“Will you take me to Gourinagar with you this time?”

“You want to come?”

“Yes.”

“But it isn’t a comfortable place. There aren’t even any decent hotels to stay in…”

“If it is good enough for you, it is good enough for me.”

“Fine. Ask for Kaka’s permission.”

“He won’t stop me. It’s winter holidays anyway.”

“Still. Ask for his permission.”

—

To be continued

The First Option (Part 11)

Posted Mish9 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

On her eighteenth birthday, Mukundo had a chat with her. “You are officially an adult now, Mou. Here are the papers of the bank account you can now operate independently.”

“Thank you, Baba.”

“And Mou. This also seems like the right time to have an adult discussion with you. About Ahwaan. If you have any curiosities, questions, if you ever have to face that part of your life, you should be prepared.”

“Baba!” she had been touched.

“I mean it, Shona.”

“Would you mind Baba, if someday I try to find him?”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. But just in case…”

“Wait a minute,” he had gone away for a moment and had returned with an old photograph. “You mother had given it to me all those years back. As a way of introducing him while asking for my help in convincing your grandfather for accepting him.”

“She had asked for your help?” Mou was surprised.

Mukundo had laughed, “Life is queer, Mou. Yes, she had asked for my help, and I had happily helped her too. But anyway. This is his photograph. I kept it, I don’t know why.”

“Baba. It won’t hurt you, if I keep it, would it?”

“No,” his reply was unhesitant, “So long as you assure me that I have not failed you as a father.”

“Oh. You haven’t Baba. Why do you even need an assurance? Everyone knows. You should know too.”

Presently she thrust the photograph in Ahwaan’s hand. “My mother had known you at one point of time. But when I met your sons in the jail, they said that I should be thankful that I don’t have a father like you. And I am. I am thankful.”

“How is Piyali?” Regret seemed to be hitting him after all.

“She is very happy. She has been so all these years. And yeah – she wasn’t the one who had kept this photograph. So, don’t get any ideas. I got it from my father. Now the final one. Good Bye.”

—

“Baba!”

“Mou! Shona. What’s up?” Mou sounded unusually emotional on phone.

“Nothing Baba. Just wanted to say that I love you.”

“Me too Mou. But why suddenly… Is something the matter, child?”

“Nothing to worry about. Just met some people who didn’t have a father like mine.”

“Nothing to worry about?”

“No. Nothing. I won’t lie to you Baba.”

“Yeah. I love you. And I trust you.”

“Me too, Baba. Good night.”

“What was it?” Piyali asked after Mukundo disconnected the call.

“Mou called up to say that she loves me.”

“Huh! Just that?” What was up with this sudden display of emotions.

“Hmm…”

“Mukundo Babu? She is not up to something stupid, is she?”

“I think she has met or found out about Ahwaan,” he replied.

“What?” Piyali got worried. “Why? How?”

“Calm down, Pihu Rani. That man isn’t exactly going to elicit fatherly respect from anyone.”

“You know something more then? What is it?”

Mukundo told her about his conversation with Mou on her eighteenth birthday and how he had given her the photograph.

“Why would you encourage her to…”

“I didn’t encourage her, Piyali. I just promised to support her in whatever she wanted. I didn’t want her to feel alone and do something stupid instead of seeking our support. And her curiosity was genuine.”

“Did she tell you now that she met him?”

“No. I guessed.”

“And you are sure that her meeting didn’t go well?”

“I fancy myself to be a liberal man, Pihu Rani. I have maintained that I wouldn’t interfere in my adult daughter’s life. But you know… it is a little difficult to do that as a father,” he gave a know-it-all smile. Piyali raised her eyebrows questioningly. Mukundo chuckled and continued, “When I realized that she would want to know about him one day or the other, I figured I myself needed to find out what was in store for her. So, I sort of kept an eye on him. I have some acquaintances in Mumbai who helped.”

“And?”

“And it isn’t pretty. I am sorry for what happened to his family. But none of it is surprising given what he did to you back then.” He briefly told her whatever he knew about Ahwaan and his family.

“And you think she has found out too?” she asked.

“I think so.”

“Is she okay?”

“It would have been disturbing, but she is brave as you have always maintained. And I think she appreciates the life you gave her all the more now.”

Piyali shook her head and replied with a smile, “The life you gave her, Mukundo Babu.”

“You, Pihu Rani, underestimate what you have done. And you blindly worship me. Remember that you had decided to bring her into this world before I even knew, much less support you.”

“Probably because somewhere, deep down, I knew you would help me. I didn’t know what form will it take, but I had taken your support for granted.”

“Give me all the credit you want. It seems to make you happy. So, I will bear it,” he repeated her words from ten years ago with a smile and she laughed.

“I have a complaint against you.”

“What is it?”

“You keep secrets from me, Mukundo Babu. You never told me that Mou wanted to find out about Ahwaan. And that you had been spying on him…”

“Piyali. I…” he looked guilty, “It wasn’t intentional… I…”

“It’s okay Mukundo Babu. I was… I wasn’t serious.”

“I don’t keep secrets from you Piyali,” Mukundo still felt the need to explain, “You know everything about me. I just didn’t like to mention Ahwaan before you. He didn’t bother me. Not even Mou. We were not the ones whom he had given bad memories. You were. So, unless necessary I didn’t want to…”

“You were protecting me, as always…”

“There is something else too…”

“What?”

“You have been over-protective of my status as Mou’s father. I sometimes felt that you were harsh on her if you ever felt that she was undermining my position. Although she never was…”

Piyali chuckled, “I was always tough with her. Both parents can’t be spoiling the child; you didn’t leave me with much choice.”

“Piyali. I haven’t said it in a while…”

“What?”

“I love you.”

Forty-eight year old Piyali blushed at that like a new bride. But she replied boldly, “I love you too!”

– The End –

The First Option (Part 10)

Posted MishLeave a commentPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“Our father disowned us.”

“Disowned? Why?”

“Because he didn’t approve of our career choices.”

“Career choice as a drug dealer?” Shivendra raised his eyebrows.

One of the brothers looked angry at the sarcasm, but the other chuckled and restrained him by holding his arm, “This wasn’t a choice Mr. Vyas. This was rebellion. We wanted to get into movie-making. But that wasn’t an appropriate enough choice for him.”

“That was it?”

“For us? Yes.”

“For him?”

“I don’t know. He had been a puppet in the hands of his parents all his life. He expected us to do the same.”

“How so?”

“Are you going to print all of this?”

“You don’t want us to?”

“Actually… Go ahead… Please print it. He should be exposed for the insensitive, coward he is.”

“Tell me.”

“Before his parents he could never open his mouth. He married our mother for a fat dowry, because his parents wanted that. He had her abort our sister because his parents did not want a girl child…”

“And who are we to say that those weren’t his own wishes, which he explained away with the idea of being the obedient son,” the belligerent brother added.

“True!” said the first one, “We were too young to understand then… But our mother was so disturbed by that forced abortion that…” His voice trailed.

“She lost her mind,” his brother added, “He never took her to a doctor or psychiatrist, of course. The crime would have come out in open.”

“Where is she now?” Mou asked.

“In a mental asylum. It’s too late for her to reveal anything and keeping her at home was being difficult for him.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“No. Don’t be sorry,” the first brother said sadly, “Be thankful that you don’t have such a man for a father.”

“Who looked after you in your childhood, given you mother’s… condition?” Shivendra continued the conversation.

“Nobody!”

There was a pause, as even a seasoned reporter like Shivendra struggled to maintain a façade of objectivity.

“But you were the sons. He must have been concerned about you?”

“Yeah. He was. He would keep threatening us once in a while that we must perform in school as per his expectations; otherwise he would disown us, until the day he did act on his threat, because we won’t do engineering or MBA.”

“Wouldn’t agreeing to him have been better than this?”

He looked thoughtful, “Probably. Or there would have been better ways of rebelling too. Problem was that there was no one to help and support us then. This wasn’t a conscious life-long choice. We were just looking for a quick way of making some money so that we could act on our dreams… But once you are in…” his voice drowned again.

Mou looked at her papers. These twenty-two year olds had already made the worst of their lives. And not despite, but because of their father. Their biological father. The papers did not have their father’s name. She could not help asking.

“What is his name? Your father’s?”

“Will you do me a favor?” asked the more mature of the two brothers.

“What is it?”

“I will tell you his name, his address. Would you interview him and ask him if he ever thinks that letting go of his parental ego would have been better than this.”

Mou looked at Shivendra. Was an interview with the father on the cards? Would he talk?

“We, of course, would like to interview him if he is willing to talk. What is his name?”

“Ahwaan Sharma. His address is….”

Mou’s mind went blank for a moment. She wrote down the address with some difficulty.

“Mou. I have to leave for Delhi for a week. But we can’t wait that long to do the father’s interview. Do you think you can do it? I can ask someone to accompany you…” Shivendra told her when they were back in the office.

She thought for a moment and then replied, “I’d do it. But do you think he would talk?”

“Chances are thin. You can’t probably even get into his house, if you tell him why you want to talk. And assuming you get in on some pretext, you might still be thrown out. So, be careful. Don’t go too aggressive. We can do the story without him too.”

“Okay.”

—

“Please contact our PR department,” was the response Mou got when she tried to reach Ahwaan for an interview.

“It isn’t about the company,” she reasoned.

“According to company policies, executives are not supposed to talk to the press in personal capacity.”

While an interview was not happening, she still wanted to meet him once. She decided to take the brute-force approach. She found him walking out of his house where she had been waiting for him for several hours.

“Mr. Sharma?”

“Yes,” he turned to her and looked startled for a moment. Mou knew that she looked a lot like her mother. His startling on seeing her and the unaware silent staring that followed confirmed to her that she had found the right man.

“My name is Mou Thakur,” she started explaining and handed her business card.

“You have been badgering me with request for interviews,” he recognized the name, “And don’t want to come through the PR department.” He had gotten his bearings back.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t want me to tell your PR department what I wanted to talk to you about.”

His composure vanished again. Was it really her? Piyali’s daughter? Mou Thakur? His name was Mukundo Thakur… Did she want to talk about… “It’s about your sons,” she said. Ahwaan felt like he was caught between a mountain and a hard rock. This wasn’t particularly better than what he had been worried about.

“What sons?” he tried to not let his anxiety show, “I don’t have any sons.”

“Twenty-two years old… That’s all they have seen of the life and the world. They could have had everything, but they are lodged in a jail and their life is a dead-end.”

“I have disowned them. I have no sons,” he maintained his stance.

“Hmm… You are quite an expert at disowning and abandoning people, aren’t you? And ordering abortions for that matter.”

“Who are you?”

“Proud daughter of my parents.”

“What is your mother’s name?”

She chuckled sarcastically, “How funny! That a patriarch like you should ask for my mother’s name, and not my father’s. Anyway. The interview was a lost cause. But your disowned sons wanted to ask you something, and me too. That’s why I tried so hard to meet you. Would letting them pursue their dreams not have been better than this? And if your conscience, for once, knocks at your heart, there might still be something you could do for them. Arthur Road Jail is the address. Good bye, Mr. Sharma.”

“Wait Mou,” he stopped her anxiously, “Do you know me?” He could not gather courage to ask her directly yet.

She took out a photograph from her purse.

—

To be continued

 

The First Option (Part 9)

Posted MishLeave a commentPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“Make some space on the bed,” he took control of the situation again and whispered to Piyali. Piyali nodded and hastily proceeded to pick up the books from the bed and put them on the table.

Mukundo took his daughter to the bed, and tucked her in. “Get some sleep. You are exhausted. You are working too hard,” he told her with a smile.

She clutched onto his hand. “Don’t leave, Baba,” she said, still choking on her words.

“I won’t move. Have I ever left your bedside when you are sick?”

She managed to smile and closed her eyes. Piyali brought a comfortable chair for him to sit on beside the bed. She also sat near him. They stayed silent for a while. He spoke after ensuring that Mou was asleep. “You were right. I shouldn’t have let my fear and insecurity show. I scared her.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” she pressed his hands and assured him.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I told her that…”

“Mukundo Babu,” she interrupted, “All those years back, when I had come to you with her as an unborn baby, desperately trying to make some sense of life, desperately trying to do the right thing, you hadn’t asked me any questions. You hadn’t questioned whether she should be allowed to live or not, something even my own father had questioned. As far as she is concerned, I don’t need to ask you anything.”

Mukundo looked at her silently for a few moments before replying, “You know how everyone finds our father-daughter relationship to be extraordinary. It has been possible because she trusts me. And she does it because you have taught her to. In action, in words. Mou, and my relationship with her, is the best gift you have given to me, Pihu Rani. Thank you.”

Humility! It hadn’t left him till date. “Give me all the credit you want,” she said with a slight chuckle, “It seems to make you happy. So, I will bear it. Let me get you some tea.”

“I meant it, Piyali.”

“I know,” she smiled at him before going out.

“Baba!” Mou woke up after about two hours, “You are still here?”

“I told you, I will be. Feeling better?”

She smiled and nodded looking embarrassed. “You almost scared me by understanding my feelings too well. I was confused, sad, even angry,” she said, and added hastily, “Not at you.”

“I know,” he held her hand, “Ask me Mou. Whatever questions you have.”

“Why do you love me so much?”

He gave her a knowing smile, “Why do parents love their kids? The most loved kids are those who remind their parents of the love they share. I love you so much, because I love your mother as much.”

“But most people plan for kids before…”

“I had no hopes of ever getting my love, let alone plan for kids, Mou. If you hadn’t happened, my life wouldn’t have happened. Try not to find it morbid. But while you mother suffered for a while, the outcome of that suffering was life-long happiness for me. I have tried to share that happiness with her, and with you.”

“I love you, Baba. I hope… I haven’t hurt you. Now, or earlier…”

“Mou. Shona, kids are supposed to create some troubles for their parents and take them for granted once in a while. You have done you share,” he chuckled; then turned serious, “That doesn’t hurt the parents. It makes them happy… That there is someone in the world who knows that they would do anything for her. I am very proud of you, my child. Come here. Give me a hug.”

“Baba,” Mou spoke hesitantly after breaking the hug, “There is something I wanted to ask. And if you think I should not know, you can say ‘no’. I won’t mind…”

“Yes. If I think you should not know, I will say ‘no’, young lady. So, cut the chase and just ask,” he grinned at his dramatic reply.

“I didn’t ask Mamma. I thought you should decide whether to answer it. What was his name? The man who abandoned me and her?”

Mukundo thought for a moment before replying, “You trust me Mou. And I trust you too. If anything else comes to your mind, you must tell me. His name was Ahwaan Sharma. Any other information we may have about him would be fourteen years old. But if you want to know…”

“No. That’s okay, Baba. Thank you.”

—

10 years later…

“Mou,” her boss Shivendra Vyas called her to his office and explained, “You remember I told you about this extensive story we are doing on changing parent-child relationship in our society.” Mou had recently joined this Mumbai-based magazine as a field reporter after finishing her studies in media and journalism. Her career choice had been inspired by her mother’s.

“Yeah.”

“And we have a very interesting interview lined up with twin brothers currently lodged in Arthur Road jail. Caught for weapon and drug trade. They come from a well-to-do family. Their father is a top executive in an FMCG company here. I think interesting family dynamics would come out form this interview. Want to accompany me?”

“Of course, Sir.” she replied because it was a good professional opportunity. But there was a bit of trepidation in her heart about the topic. Parent-child relationship. She had been lucky with her parents. But a little curiosity in her heart had refused to die for last ten years, since the day she had discovered that she had a biological father she had never seen or met. She would wonder what the life would have been like if she had grown up with him. Sometimes she imagined the worst, and sometimes she wistfully thought that it would have been even better than her current life. And starting with this interview, she was going to open another Pandora’s Box. What other people’s lives have been like with their parents? What were these brothers doing selling drugs, when their father could have provided everything for them? Just like her Baba.

The initial questions of the interview focused around what they had done, who were the people they were involved with, and how they ended up getting caught. It appeared from their answers that they were mere pawns in the large scheme of things. Why would they do something like that?

—

To be continued