Mish' Fiction

Six Months Later

Sarah

It was the six-month anniversary of my leaving Hojukeri. What kind of life I must have had, you might wonder, that the anniversaries I remembered were of incidents like those, incidents of loss and desperate measures. How had I been in all these months, did you ask? Not bad. Not bad at all.

On that fateful night, I walked all six kilometers back to the bus-stop where I had first disembarked to reach Hojukeri. I got on the first bus that came there just before the dawn broke. It happened to be going to Madikeri , and not to Bangalore where I intended to go. That was fine by me, because my first priority was to get away to a place where he would not be able to find me easily. It was better to catch a bus to Bangalore from Madikeri anyway. I was more likely to get a seat. A pain shot through my heart as I thought of that. He was the one who had suggested that to me once. It couldn’t have been too long ago. But it looked like a lifetime away now.

I had about four thousand rupees with me. I had to find a way of getting as far away from Hojukeri and Bangalore as I could and start earning my livelihood before I ran out of that money. I managed that by buying the cheapest bus tickets available from Madikeri to Bangalore and then from Bangalore to Pune. Going to Pune was not premeditated. That just happened to be the furthest destination to which I could immediately find an affordable bus from Bangalore. When I reached Pune I was down to one thousand and five hundred rupees in my possession. I asked the way to the nearest church and sat in the nearly-empty pew a long time. Then I got talking to a sister there, introduced myself and told her about my need to find a roof over my head and job to pay for it. It was quite a task to convey all this in a convincing manner without revealing anything about what made me leave Hojukeri, but I managed it. She directed me to a nearby hotel which had cheap, livable rooms. She also told me about a local classified paper which should have advertisements for job openings.

Without getting into more details, let me just tell you that I found a position as an English teacher in a Marathi-medium school and also managed to rent a small, rundown room to stay in. Life wasn’t luxurious, but I wasn’t starving any longer. I spent my free time volunteering with church and teaching poor children. Once I had settled in Pune, I got in touch with the employee and gave him my new contact number. He was to contact me only for the marrow donation. He agreed to that and kept his word. About a month later, he called me for the donation. I went to Bangalore, went through a simple procedure and then came back. Rajesh Goenka accosted me again. He wanted me to come back to the family. I reminded him again that I had no family, and that I was an orphan. I told them not to trouble Mr. Roychowdhury about me as I no longer worked for or stayed with him. For good measure I also told him that he should not try to find or contact me or I will go to police.

The threat must have worked, or once his son’s life was saved he no longer cared; either way, I wasn’t troubled by anyone from Goenka family again.

Until that day, when it was the six-month anniversary of the date that made me a friendless, orphan again.

—

The young man at the door was nobody I knew.

“Sarah?” he asked tentatively. His pronunciation of my name was perfect, but his voice revealed what his face didn’t. It was too much like his father.

“Who are you?” I asked, although I already knew.

“My name is Naman. Can I come in?”

“I don’t think I know you. So, no!” I made to shut the door.

“Sarah. Please. I owe my life to you. Trust me I can do you no harm.”

“What do you want?”

“I just want to know my sister.”

I took a good look at him. He was begging. But his demeanor was graceful. He looked not arrogant, but determined. His illness had left its effect on his physique, making him too lean for his frame, but he still made his presence felt. Not for the first time in my life, I felt small before someone who should have been an equal. We shared a womb for nine months. But since then he had received the grooming, education and opportunities that I could not even dream of. I was luckier than most abandoned infants; Home of Hope was probably the best that could have happened to someone without a family. But it was nothing compared to what my twin brother had. I felt bitter yet again.

Still I stepped aside and let him in. I can’t quite fathom why I did that. Was it his aristocratic manner, so unlike his father’s? Or was I so lonely that the intimacy and company – and even gratitude because I had saved his life – that a twin brother promised was difficult to turn away from?

I was uncomfortably conscious of how dingy my room looked from the moment he stepped in. But I did not show it. I had two plastic chairs in the room and I motioned him to sit on one. He accepted the water I offered him and drank it in one go. Despite his calm exterior, he was nervous!

“I don’t know where to begin…”

“You didn’t need to come here,” I cut in sharply. Oh the joys of acting nasty!

“I needed to. Not for your sake, but for mine.”

“How can I help you?”

He stayed silent for a long moment, rolling the empty glass in his hand before putting it down. “By letting me in,” he spoke at last, “In your life, I mean.”

“Why would you want that?”

“You have every right to be angry, Sarah.”

“I have no right to be angry with strangers.”

“Trust me, I didn’t know who the donor was until I had already recovered. When I found out…”

“Yes. How did you find me at all? I had strictly asked…”

“Thakur Uncle didn’t betray you,” he defended the employee, “I indulged in spying, even on him and his phone records. He never gave them to me. And despite having your number, I don’t think he has figured out which city you are in, much less where exactly you stay.”

“Then how did you find out?”

“I hired a detective. With the phone number, it was easy for him.”

—

To be continued

On rummaging through the drawer, I first found her mobile, then her bank passbook and debit card. The bank account was opened when she came to work here. This was the account to which I transferred her salary. So, this was where any money she had to call her own resided. With card as well as passbook left behind, how was she going to manage? I grew frantic with worry. Getting her back was not my immediate concern now. The first thing I wanted to be assured of was that she wasn’t wandering around without any support or money. Could she have taken out the money in cash? How could I be sure? If only I could see her account statement… May be if I spoke to the manager. But why would he help me? Finally her neglected drawer helped me there. The two letters, one with her Internet banking username and the other with the password, were also in the drawer. I hoped she hadn’t changed the password and rushed to my bedroom with the letters. I locked myself in the room. I fumbled with typing and almost lost access by making too many attempts with wrong password. But in the last allowed attempt, I managed to log in. My heart sank on seeing her transaction history. After her first salary, she had withdrawn five thousand rupees and nothing since then.  How much of it would she still have on her? Even if she didn’t spend anything during her stay here, which was likely – her needs were so limited – she had visited Bangalore to see Father Jacob.  Bus tickets and other expenses there, she couldn’t have more than three thousand on her now.

Oh Sarah! My stubborn, little angel. You could at least have taken the money that was your own. Where are you now? How do I find you? How will you manage? I buried my face in my hands and sobbed hard.

“Daddy!” Annie was knocking at the door.

“Wait,” I washed my face before opening the door for her, “You had your breakfast?”

“Has Sarah Auntie left, Daddy?”

“Why do you ask?”

“She came to my room last night.”

“She did? What did she say?”

“She kissed me and said that I should be a good girl and make you proud.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“She didn’t say anything else. Did I do something wrong, Daddy? Did she leave because of me?”

“No. No sweetheart. It’s… It’s not your fault.”

“Was she angry with you?”

“Yes.”

“Will you bring her back, Daddy?”

“Come here,” I kneeled so that our eyes were level, “I don’t know if I can bring her back, Annie. And yes – it is because she was angry with me that she left. But I promise you I will try my best. Are you mad at me?”

“No Daddy. I love you.”

—

I readied Annie for school and sent her with Kaveri. Then I went back to Sarah’s room. There was a note on the table that had escaped my attention the first time.

“You shouldn’t ask me to forgive you,” the note said, “I am not the one who has to forgive. I was a part of the sin. When I look inside my soul, really look, I see its corruption. I was hoping that the situation would be as it suited me, instead of finding out for myself. I ask for God’s forgiveness. For me as well as for you. If you want to do anything for me, please try to find peace. I don’t have to say this, but still. Please don’t make it more difficult by looking for me.”

“Sarah!” Assured of Annie being away at school, there was nothing to stop me from crying out loud. I sobbed hard and loud until my throat grew so dry that not a sound could escape it, and my body so dehydrated that it could not produce the tears it needed to keep up with my pain.

The incessant knock finally forced me to get up.  It was Chanda at the door. I was, anyway, I too exhausted to scold someone for disturbing me so. With her I didn’t have the moral authority to do so. If someone in the world could play the “I-told-you-so” card for most genuine reasons, it was her.

“Annie will return from school in couple of hours. She would look for you,” she announced, pretending not to take any notice of my swollen, haggard face. “Lunch is ready. You haven’t had any breakfast. So, I am bringing it to your bedroom.”

“Did you know, Chanda, that she was leaving? Did she tell you? Did you see her go?”

“No,” she replied calmly, “I didn’t. As much as I want to see you happy, Protim, I respect her for her decision.”

“At least that much good has come out it. Nobody can doubt her moral uprightness, nor blame her for being a gold-digger,” I felt bitter despite myself. Damn you, Sarah! Why was love not enough? Why did you not talk to me face to face? Why did you not question me? Why did you not let me question you? Why are religion and morality hard only on good and innocent people, while the real sinners and culprits roam free and happy? I would have liked to see you squirm and admit your defeat as you failed to answer this for me.

“Yes,” Chanda replied curtly and left. She believed that I deserved what was happening to me. May be I did. But even if I was the sinner, wasn’t all this unfair to Sarah too? With me she could have had a happy, content life she deserved. And what about Annie? Hadn’t she loved Sarah more than her own mother? Did she not deserve to be loved? Why must she have a selfish wench for her biological mother and a too-upright-for-her-own-good as the surrogate one she adopted?

And why had her God allowed her to leave with not even five thousand rupees in her hand. What did she plan to do? Where did she plan to go? And that’s when the possibility hit me. She did have somewhere to go now.

—

To be continued

Breath caught in my throat as I heard that. I could not keep my eyes fixed on the table and looked up at him. His pain and distress was plain to see.

“I don’t know if she was right. I never ordered the DNA test. I didn’t ask for divorce again. But the confrontation freed her from any need to even pretend. Everyone soon knew me for a cuckold. You have not known this high society, Sarah. You have no idea how vitriolic it could be. I had given up on my happiness. But I was worried about Anaya. It would affect her as she grew up. Then one day, about a year back, a solution presented itself. Sunita left of her own accord. Just a note that she was leaving and that I should not look for her. You can’t imagine my relief at that. I had no intention of looking for her. I just let her parents know so that I would not get into trouble, wrapped up my life at Bangalore, bought this plantation and settled down here. Ananya was not used to her mother being around anyway. She didn’t ask about her for long. I was no longer thinking about divorce, marring again or any of it. I just let things be. Anaya’s welfare was still at the top of my mind and that’s why I wanted someone… You know the rest of it.

“I was mad in love, Sarah. I should never have kept all of this from you. I would have needed to wait a year or two before I could apply for divorce on the grounds of desertion.

“No!” I snapped, in as loud a voice, as my starved body allowed.

“Sarah, please! I know you think divorce is a sin. But… But can’t you see the situation? Do I have no right to be happy? Must the villains win and innocent suffer to prove their faith?”

“I need to eat and sleep,” Tortured though he was, he did not insist on carrying on the conversation when he heard that. He ran to the kitchen himself, and brought back some rice and vegetables, hastily arranged on a plate.  Eating was difficult. I alternately felt like crying and throwing up. But I kept at it. I was going to need my strength for what I must do next. It won’t do to make decisions with a hungry body and feverish mind.

He escorted me back to my room. “Sleep well and don’t worry about anything, Sarah. Please give me one more chance and I promise I will set it all right. If you want to stay elsewhere until then, I promise I will arrange for that. I…”

“You need to sleep as well. Please go back to your room and don’t wait for me here. Please?”

“Whatever you say.”

He wanted to kiss me, but I turned away before he could act. I knew what an exercise in self-control it must have been for him to not grab me, pull me to him and attack my lips. But he exercised that control.  As I turned to close the door, I took one long look at him. It would stay imprinted in my heart forever.

—

I was angry at him, mad angry. He knew what principles I abided by. He knew them very well; he had made me to say them out loud several times with his annoying, pushy ways. Then he deliberately deceived me, never letting on how marrying him would make me a sinner in God’s and my own eyes.

But try as I might my anger did not result in loathing. My love, and now even pity – because he had suffered and no one could deny that – were the triumphant emotions. Staying on was easy to justify. Must the villains win and innocent suffer, he had asked in that forceful, convincing manner of his.

But I had to go away. If the notions of right and wrong were mutable to suit our personal situations, their entire point was gone.  To be good, we had to do the right thing even when it was most painful for us.  To keep revising the definitions of right and wrong for the sake of our comforts was a manifestation of our weakness, our aversion to the sufferings we must accept.

I would have liked to make him understand this before leaving. But I knew my limitations. I wasn’t going to succeed with him in an argument that would challenge his passion. So, painful as it was to me, even more painful as it would be to him when he found out, I must slip away before dawn, before he could do anything to make me stay. He will be devastated, but he must seek his peace with God. There were wrongs that we mere humans could not set right. We neither had the right, nor the ability to do so.

—

Protim

I had not had a wink of sleep, but I stayed in my room until dawn, to honor her wishes. I wished she would fight with me, admonish me for leading her astray, even claim to hate me. Any of that would have been better than the ominous silence she had treated me with. Any of that would be revealed a little bit more about what was going on in her head than artificially composed demeanor. It didn’t help that her yes showed nothing but love and pity. And yet, she seemed to have built this impregnable wall around her.

At the first sign of morning light, I camped up at her door again. All was still. She must have been exhausted. I decided to let her sleep as long as she needed to. I paced up and down the corridor near her door, driving myself insane by trying to practice all possible ways in which I would ask for her forgiveness and beg her to give me a chance to set this right.

“Daddy!” Ananya appearing there brought me out of my trance.

“Annie! What happened?”

“Aren’t you and Sarah Auntie coming for breakfast?”

“What time is it?” I suddenly looked around and realized the sun was well up in the sky. I must have been pacing for three or four hours.

“I am hungry.”

“Ask Kaveri Auntie to feed you, Annie. I will be eat a little later.”

“Where is Sarah Auntie?”

“Sleeping. Why?”

“She doesn’t sleep in this late.”

“She was tired, Annie. You have your breakfast now. Go.”

But I was as alarmed as Annie on realizing just how late it was. After Annie disappeared out of my sight, I gently pushed the door. It was unlocked. Sarah often left it unlocked, so that part didn’t really worry me. However, as soon as I entered the room, I could see that the bed was not slept in. The bathroom door was ajar and there was no one in there. I threw open her cupboard. All her clothes – no – everything I had ever bought her was lying there. But not the dresses she had come here with. I took a desperate look around the room.

She was gone!

Sarah

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

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

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

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

‘Even worse, if you cause a divorce.’

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

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

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

—

Protim

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

“Sarah!”

“I need water.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sarah

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

To be continued

Sarah

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me arrange to have you dropped back.”

“My taxi is waiting.”

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

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

“It’s none of your business.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

“None of your business.”

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

“I know. I tutor his daughter.”

“And not widowed or divorced.”

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

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

—

Protim

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?” I had to ask.

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

“Talk to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

—

To be continued

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

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

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

Sarah

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

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

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

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

—

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

I had to go to Bangalore.

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

“What happened?”

“They want what from you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Protim

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

“Sarah…”

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

“Sarah, I am sorry love…”

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

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

“And I? Do I love you?”

“Yes. Like nobody has ever loved me.”

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

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

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

“That is what keeps me going.”

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

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

“Rajesh Goenka.”

“Goekna!”

“Do you know him?”

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

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

“When do you have to go?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I will book a taxi for you.”

“But…”

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

—

To be continued

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Protim

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

“You have a problem with Sarah?”

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

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

“What if…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Does it trouble you?”

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

“Do you know how much money I have?”

“What? No! And I am not…”

“You are not marrying me for money?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let them wonder.”

“Don’t you wonder, Sarah?”

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

We were even!

—

To be continued

“You won’t leave.”

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

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

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

“Where to? Delhi?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I ask you to come here as my wife.”

Why did he continue to mock me?

“Come to me, Sarah.”

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

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

I did not answer.

“You do not trust me at all?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me look at your face.”

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

“I want to read your face.”

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

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

—

To be continued

Protim

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

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

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

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

“You had left your mobile behind.”

“I forgot.”

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

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

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

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

“No. You are not.”

“Your guests have left?”

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

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

“To return?”

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

“My wife?”

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

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

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

“You are getting married soon, I think.”

“Soon. I hope.”

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

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

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

“There is this place in Delhi…”

“In Delhi?”

“Yes. In Delhi.”

“It’s too far.”

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

“It’s too far.”

“Too far from?”

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

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

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

“And?”

Sarah

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you are unhappy about leaving it?”

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

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

“Why do you have to leave?”

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

—

To be continued

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

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

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

“Sorry for disturbing…”

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

“I need to go…”

“What?”

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

“Is he?”

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

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

“Right now.”

“For how long?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No Ma’am. Just a bag.”

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

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

“Yes Sir.”

—

Protim

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

“Oh my God! What happened Protim?”

“Daddy! I could have fallen off.”

Debjani and Annie screamed in chorus.

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

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

Had I lost her?

—

Sarah

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My brother?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

To be continued