Ultimate Reunion (Part 4)

Posted 2 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

Her sitting in the car created a bit of a situation. The passenger door didn’t lock despite her trying twice.

“You need to pull it harder,” Mukundo told her.

The next time she pulled it too hard. It did successfully lock the door, but the loud bang startled them.

“Steady.”

“I… I am sorry… I have never been in a car like… this. Did I break something?”

“No. Relax. What kind of car have you been in?”

“The taxi… Ambassador…” The ambassador taxis usually seen on Kolkata roads could take a lot of slamming; in fact they demanded slamming, else they won’t lock, Mukundo quipped inwardly.

“It’s okay. Shall we go?”

She nodded, still looking nervous.

“Who do you have to take to the doctor?” he asked to divert her from her embarrassment about the door.

“Priyendra. My younger brother.”

“What happened to him? Nothing serious, I hope.”

“No. It’s the flu, I think. Everyone has it these days. But better be sure…”

“Yeah. Where do we go from here?”

“I… This is not the bus-route. I don’t know the way.”

“Tell me the address.”

“It’s near Garia haat.”

“I know the way to Garia haat. Once there, you would know the way to your home, right?”

“Yeah.”

He talked to her some more. Mostly about her studies and college. He was curious about her father, but wasn’t sure if he could ask her about it. Pandit ji had talked about Debendra Banerjee many a times. He admired him. “But he will perish. He isn’t made for this world,” he would lament.

When Piyali asked him to stop the car, Mukundo realized that Pandit ji was right about her father. He hadn’t left his family particularly comfortable.

“Which one is your house? I will drop you till there…” he said.

“Just few hundred meters from here. The car… won’t go in. It’s a narrow gully.” She was embarrassed about her poverty. But she didn’t want to be seen as embarrassed about it. So, she pretended to speak nonchalantly. Yet, her effort showed through.

Mukundo acted as if he didn’t discern any of that. “Okay,” he said and waited until she had disappeared from his sight into one of the narrow streets of the area. The area was only one grade above the slums that were aplenty in the city. The simile of a lotus growing in a dirty pond was quite accurate, he thought!

“Mukundo Babu dropped you home?” Sonali grinned.

“Yes. He did. And I idiotically slammed the door of his car so hard… I was afraid I would have broken something.”

“Why are you blushing?”

“Excuse me?”

“You look like he didn’t drop you home, but took you out on a date.”

“You are crazy, Sonali.”

“I think you are crazy. You have always been. About him. Obsessive crazy.”

“Shut up already, Sonali. He is my teacher.”

“It’s not like he is an old man or something. And hey! It is fine to have a crush. Just remember that he is a married man.”

“Married man! You know what! Let’s say you are right. And I have a crush on him. Well – I can have that. Why not? He is so charming. Especially when you get to know him closely. But what do you think I am? Some beauty queen? Or some Lata Mangeshkar of music? He won’t even spare me a glance, Sonali. So, you can put that little, conniving mind of yours to rest.”

“Oh Lord! You are furious. Okay. Just forget it. I tease you about so many people. What’s new? Why are you getting upset about it?”

“Yes. You can tease me all you want. Just don’t say anything about him.”

“All right,” Sonali threw up her hands and said on a reconciliatory note, “Shall we get some gol-gappas? My treat. To lift up your mood.”

“Fine!” Piyali grumbled.

Piyali found Mukundo standing in the corridor that led to the practice room, when she came the next morning. Was he waiting for her?

“Nomoshkaar, Mukundo Babu,” she folded her hands.

“Nomoshkaar,” he had started responded to her greeting verbally, instead of his usual silent nod.

“You woke up even earlier today?” she asked. She talked to avoid awkwardness. He was in her way and was making no effort to move. She couldn’t just stand there silently.

“How do you come here this early in the morning?” he asked ignoring her question. After he was done appreciating the poetry of lotus in a dirty pond, it had struck him that she lived at least fifteen kilometres away from his home in Salt Lake City. And her usual mode of transport was bus or tram. How did she reach there before five?

She hesitated. Why was he asking that? “By auto. Why?”

“It would be too…” he was about to say ‘expensive’, but checked himself. “It may not be safe,” he said instead, “At this hour…”

“No. It’s fine. It’s actually Salim Kaku – my neighbour. He drives at night usually. Fetches him good fare. And before going to sleep in the morning, he drops me here.”

“Hmm…”

“He has always been very sweet to us. Especially after Baba died…”

“Has it been long?”

“Five years.”

“I am sorry.”

“Life goes on,” she said wanly. Mukundo regretted probing about her father.

“Come in. Sumi will join us today.”

“That’s good.”

They often had casual conversations these days. So, she wasn’t surprised when he noticed her dress and asked, “Some special occasion? You are looking different.” She was wearing a new red and black salwaar-kameez, noticeably more stylish and expensive than her usual clothes.

She smiled nervously, “Nothing special. Ma got the dress for my birthday. So, I thought I will wear it.”

“And your birthday is today?”

She nodded.

“Then how is it not a special occasion? It is one. Happy birthday, Piyali. You could have taken a break today.”

“Break? For what?”

“To do whatever you like.”

“But this is what I like the best.”

Mukundo was pleasantly surprised. He looked at her fondly for a few seconds; then said, “In that case, come with me.”

He motioned her to follow him and they walked some distance to another room. It was relatively isolated from the rest of the house, even from the usual practice room. As she entered it, the sight of musical instruments, books, cassettes and CDs revealed that it was his personal practice room. She watched wordlessly as he uncovered a sitar and brought it to her.

“A Hiren Roy Sitar. Pandit ji had given it to me. Do you want to play it?”

She was tongue-tied and barely managed to nod as tears clouded her eyes. This was a big deal!

“Sit down, then. And stop crying. You can’t sing if you cry.” If Piyali could remember his cold voice from their first meeting, she wouldn’t have believed that this man speaking so tenderly to her was indeed Mukundo Thakur.

But she didn’t make that comparison. She wiped her tears and chuckled in embarrassment, “I’m sorry. It’s just that… You said that Pandit ji had given it to you. If I get to play it… Baba would have been so happy. He wanted me to learn from Pandit ji. He admired him so much. But that couldn’t have happened. You can’t imagine how happy I was when you agreed to teach me. It was like Baba’s wish getting fulfilled through you. And now this… Thank you. There couldn’t have been a better birthday gift for me.”

“Why couldn’t you learn from Pandit ji?”

“I… I don’t know. Baba always wanted it, but never took me there. ‘It can’t happen’ he used to say.”

“Hmm… Anyway. Let’s at least get started. Use your birthday gift before time runs out. Let me put an alarm for 5.45. We should be there for others when they come.”

She settled with Sitar and asked, “What should I play?”

Bageshree.”

He didn’t interrupt her even once until the alarm went off. He had just lost himself in the melody.

To be continued

Ultimate Reunion (Part 3)

Posted 4 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

She was already there when he walked into the practice room. She was more relaxed today, assured that she was there in time. She folded her hands in greeting and Mukundo nodded.

“Get the Tanpura,” he told her, “We will start in five minutes. My daughter may join us.”

She followed his instructions and sat down with Tanpura. She tuned it, then addressed him hesitatingly, “There was something I wanted to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“Learning from you, even one lesson, is nothing short of a dream coming true for me. And I understand how big an opportunity it is for me to be here. I’m really sorry that I was late on the first day. But I want to assure you that I don’t shy away from hard work and it won’t happen again.”

Mukundo was in a good mood having seen his daughter and now expecting her during the practice. He was amused. “Did you write that down and memorize it?” he asked with arched eyebrows. From the way she had spoken, it was clear that she had practiced that little speech.

She startled and fidgeted. This wasn’t the response she was expecting at all and was at a loss about what her response should be. Mukundo gave a slight chuckle, but before he could say anything to reassure her, Sumedha ran in. “Baba. I am in time, right?”

“Yes. Shona. You are in time. Come here.”

“Who is she, Baba?”

“She is Piyali. She is also very hard-working like you.” Their eyes met for a moment, and Piyali could read genuine reassurance in his. That relaxed her and she was ready for the practice.

“I need an alarm for six ‘o clock,” he announced, then turned to his daughter, “Can you get an alarm clock, Sumi?”

“I know how to put an alarm in your mobile.”

“My mobile is switched off. Someone may disturb…”

“Nobody will call at this hour, Baba,” she said and took the mobile out of his pocket. “I set the alarm. Will you start now?”

“Yes,” he patted her head.

Seeing Sumedha take such liberties with Mukundo brought a slight smile to Piyali’s lips. And it also brought back the memories. Of her father.

“Shall I follow you?” she asked.

“No. We can do that with others. Let me hear you sing Bhairava. I will be on tabla,” he replied.

She closed her eyes, thought of her father and silently asked for his blessings. Then she started with aalaap.

“Do that again. Ni-Sa-Ga-Ma-Pa… You can improvise.”

“Try dedh gat.”

Teevra… not shuddha…”

He helped her by correcting her, pushing her to improvise, and try difficult rhythms. She had been right in claiming that she didn’t shy away from hard work. When she didn’t get something right, or to his satisfaction, she tried and re-tried until she did it the way he wanted. Since he was not singing with her, he was aware of the time and surroundings. At six he didn’t need the alarm. He stopped her practice and had Sumedha unset the alarm before it rang. His other three students walked in just then and they restarted the practice together. Even Sumedha joined them while they practised simpler things.

“Can I have your mobile number? I needed…” he asked her the next day. Sumedha couldn’t get up and they were on their own.

“Yeah,” she was surprised at the request, but complied immediately and also noted down his number.

“I had wanted to call you.”

“Why?”

“I made fun of what you said yesterday. I didn’t mean to… I appreciate your sincerity.”

“That’s fine, Mukundo Babu. I didn’t think anything of it. You don’t need to explain.”

“That’s good. When your aim is to learn, you shouldn’t get distracted by petty things.”

“Yes. It was good that you joked about it. It makes you more human. I am a little less scared of you now,” she said and immediately wondered if she had taken too much liberty.

Mukundo was surprised at first, but then looked amused. “Shall we start?” he asked still smiling.

She nodded and got the Tanpura.

Gayantri Devi was lying on a cot in her veranda. Mukundo awkwardly stopped in his tracks on noticing Piyali seated beside her.

It had been a few weeks since Piyali had started learning under him and he had thought it appropriate that he should acknowledge Gayatri Devi for her thorough training. But with Piyali around… Piyali herself jumped out of the cot on seeing him. But she regained her composure quickly and greeted him with folded hands. “Nomoshkaar, Mukundo Babu.”

“Nomoshkaar,” he replied managing to put up a graceful smile and proceeded to greet Gayatri Devi. “Nomoshkaar, Gayatri Ma.”

“Mukundo! How nice to see you. It has been ages.”

“You haven’t been coming to concerts and programmes for ages.”

“I can hardly get up by myself these days. Piyali. Shona, will you please bring a chair for Mukundo? Or just ask Munni to bring one.”

“I will bring one,” she replied and went inside. Piyali was quite at home here, Mukundo noted.

“Ma told me you were not well,” Mukundo started conversing with her.

“It’s the age, son. It’s the time to pass the baton. I am so happy that you have taken Piyali under your wing. This girl has great potential. Like her father.”

“Her father?”

“You wouldn’t know probably. His name was Debendra Banerjee…”

“I have heard that name… From Pandit ji.”

“A brilliant man. Not worldly-wise, though. Didn’t know how to run his life. But left his daughter with a deep love for music.”

“I must thank you for recommending her. She is indeed good,” he acknowledged unhesitatingly.

Piyali came back with the chair and asked Gayatri Devi, “Shall I get some tea, Ma?”

“Not for me,” Mukundo refused, “I am fine.”

“How can that be, Mukundo? I don’t remember when you had come home last time. You must have some tea. Tell Munni Piyali…”

“Yeah,” Piyali went in a second time and came out soon. Munni, the house help, brought tea and snacks after a while. Mukundo and Gayatri Devi kept talking. About music, about people in the field, concerts, awards… Piyali remained silent through the conversation. She was in an august company… And feeling quite out-of-place.

Interjecting when there was a pause in conversation, she said politely, “Ma. I will leave now. I have to take Priyendra to the doctor.”

“Oh. Right. Poor, little thing. Flu it is, isn’t it? Okay my child. Do come again soon.”

Piyali nodded and touched her feet.

Mukundo also got up. “It’s time for me to leave too.”

“So soon?”

“Have to meet somebody. I will come again,” he said as he touched Gayatri Devi’s feet and then turned to Piyali, “How will you be going?”

“I will take a bus… or tram…”

“I can drop you home.”

She jerked back in surprise, so visibly that Mukundo hesitated for an instant. He hadn’t said anything inappropriate, had he?

“No, Mukundo Babu. I will be fine. And from here, my home is in the opposite direction to yours.”

“I have to go in the opposite direction only. Come with me. It’s not a problem.”

“Go with him, Piyali. It will save you some time. What is the harm?” Gayatri Devi supported Mukundo and that sealed the deal.

To be continued

Ultimate Reunion (Part 2)

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

Next morning Piyali was there at Mukundo’s place fifteen minutes ahead of time. She was already waiting for him when he walked in at five minute to five. He was startled for a moment because he hadn’t expected her to come back.  But he concealed his surprise well. He motioned towards the Tanpura. She picked it up, sat down on the carpet and tuned it. Then they started the practice.

Mukundo corrected her when needed, demonstrated the improvisations to her. After about forty five minutes, however, he stopped interrupting and just asked her to sing after him. Immersed in the singing, they were soon lost to the world. When they finally came to themselves, it was quarter to eight. Mukundo looked around and saw his other students sitting at some distance from them, listening intently. They must have come at their usual time! Then his eyes met with Piyali’s and confusion washed over both their faces. What had just happened? How did they lose themselves like that?

When Piyali grew conscious of other people sitting in the room, her face coloured. “Shall I leave now?” she asked meekly.

He just nodded. Piyali put the Tanpura back in place and left wordlessly, leaving Mukundo behind to explain, or to not, to his students what had just happened.

“If you have to give your life after music, don’t die twice as quickly by working so hard at other things as well,” Debangi Banerjee, Piyali’s mother, was annoyed with her. But she also worried about her.

“What are you saying, Ma?”

“You left at four in the morning. You are coming back at eight. You will fall ill at this rate. Stop giving tuitions in the evening. We can do without that money.”

“I know it isn’t much, Ma. But it, at least, covers Priyendra’s school fee.” She herself had her college tuition fee waived off on a merit scholarship. Priyendra was her younger brother who was still in school.

“You have only twenty-four hours in a day, like all of us. And you won’t give up music. Then stop abusing your body. It needs rest.”

“In two hours, that’s exactly what I am going to get, Ma. And Ma. Please stop worrying. I am not going to be like Baba. This is my promise, not just to you, but to myself too. I am not expecting music to earn my livelihood. It’s less than two years now. As soon as I graduate, I will find a job and you won’t have to worry any longer.”

“Not like him,” Debangi muttered under her breath, when Piyali went away to freshen up, “This craze for music and she is not going to be like him!” Then she hollered, “Will you have tea? Or shall I serve dinner directly?”

“I need tea, Ma. Have to study for a while. Don’t wait on me for dinner. I will take it before sleeping.”

Debangi had been running the family by taking up sewing and knitting for neighbours since her husband had died. Even when he lived, he could not have been bothered with earning livelihood, so occupied he was in his pursuit of music. Music for music’s sake. He could never think of making money from it. But some money kept coming because he always had students, most of whom, thankfully, paid on their own accord. But when he died in an accident, there were no savings to resort to. Financial planning could hardly be expected from someone who didn’t know how to make money in the first place.

Piyali was old enough at that time, about fourteen, to understand all this. She understood her mother’s frustrations; her disappointment in her husband as well as music. But for good or for bad, her father had instilled the love for music in her. It was her life, her soul. She couldn’t have given up on it. Despite knowing how irresponsible he had been, she couldn’t hate her father. She had just vowed to not be like him – in the matters concerning responsibility towards the family.

Mukundo woke up at four in the morning as was his habit. Instead to going to the bathroom immediately as he usually did, he stayed put on the bed for a while. He looked at his sleeping wife. What a disappointment his marriage had been. He hadn’t been sure about it in the first place. But it was Pandit ji’s wish. “You are the son I never had,” Pandit ji had said, “She has my blood. You have my music. If you come together, you will carry my legacy forward.”

Mukundo wondered if it hadn’t been too selfish on Pandit ji’s part. To have such whimsical ideas about carrying the legacy. How had marrying Aporna helped him in carrying the legacy forward? As far as he could see, he was doing in single-handedly. She had never been interested in music. She couldn’t tell her teevra ma from shudha ma. She couldn’t even tell sa from re. And Pandit ji, who used to be so strict with his students, had never as much as raised his voice at her. He had essentially let her do whatever she wanted. He was probably too conscious of her being raised motherless and had ended up spoiling her in trying to make up for her mother’s loss.

There was one thing that she liked about music. The glamour that came with it. It had come to Pandit ji and it had come to him. And it was probably to continue to be a part of that glamour that she had married him. The stage performances and adulation that followed had her beaming. She used to accompany her father in all his stage appearances and all his media interviews. She did the same with him after marriage. She would never bother to listen to him when he practiced, but she had her clothes and jewellery ready for every stage performance. She might not have time for him otherwise, but always had time to sit beside him during the interviews as loving and proud wife, adding her charming comments here and there. These days they hardly ever shared an intimate moment. In the beginning, his youth and his romantic and physical needs had made him seek her out. But over time that need had fizzled. The camaraderie that should have taken the place of youthful passion in the relationship had never developed between them. A strange resentment had come in instead. Neither of them could have put their fingers on what exactly they resented about the other. But they did. Outwardly, one could point out that it was because of their widely different feelings about music. But somewhere Mukundo knew that it wasn’t the case. He connected better with many friends who had nothing to do with music than he connected with his wife. Yes! That was it. There was no connect. Not through music, not through anything else. It was a strangely indifferent relationship. He was grateful to Pandit ji for a lot of things. But this was something he shouldn’t have done to him. His guru-dakshina had been too pricey. It had ended any possibility of him ever finding a partner, a soul-mate, or even some straight-forward romance.

“Baba,” Sumedha, his eight-year-old daughter peeped out from the adjacent room, when Mukundo stepped out of his bedroom, “Can I join your practice?”

Mukundo smiled affectionately, “You are up already? Brushed your teeth?”

“No. But I can do that quickly.”

“Okay,” he looked at his watch, “You have ten minutes. If you can make it before five, come in the practice room. But if you get late, you must not disturb, okay?”

“Okay Baba. I will not be late.”

Mukundo loved his daughter. She was his comfort and reassurance. She was already making good progress with her music lessons, and unlike her mother, she didn’t mind discipline and hard work. These days, she was even trying to get up early to join him in the morning practice. Today, he was going to get her company. And then there was someone else’s company too! He sighed as he thought of her. What on earth had happened yesterday? He did sometimes lose himself while singing, but that usually happened when he was alone, never when he was with somebody. Well, not until yesterday anyway.

To be continued

Ultimate Reunion (Part 1)

Posted 5 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“Hmm…” Mukundo was impressed, but held back on his appreciation. “Too much praise, too early, goes to a young student’s head. It is the job of a guru to be critical so long as there is anything to be critical about. That’s how he pushes the student towards perfection,” Pandit ji, his Guru, had told him. Everything Mukundo knew about music and teaching, he had learned from him.

Piyali’s nervous and questioning eye met his. She had big eyes, the most prominent and alluring feature on her thin, oval face. Her wheatish skin was smooth and had the radiance that betrayed her youth despite the maturity of her singing.

“What do you do?” he asked. She had just sung Raga Marwa for him.

“I am studying. B. Sc. Mathematics. 2nd year.”

Eighteen, at most nineteen years old, Mukundo guessed. Her music education till then had been good, as was evident from her performance. And she was still young enough to be coached into scaling further heights. He could take her under his wings.

“You will need a lot more practice.”

Her face clouded over. Can’t take criticism? Mukundo wondered inwardly. But Gayatri Devi would have been a strict teacher too.

“I will do my best, Mukundo Babu,” she replied looking determined. The cloud had passed.

He nodded. “You can come at six in the morning.” It was the time he gave to his best students. There were only three others in that group right now. He was placing her there. Piyali’s heart leapt at the idea. But she stayed composed on the outside. “We generally practice till nine,” he added.

The cloud came back and this time he couldn’t ignore it. “What happened? You do realize that learning music is hard work. And I don’t like compromises.”

“It’s not that, Mukundo Babu. Just that at 8.30 I have to…”

“Come at five, then. If you can…” Mukundo threw a challenge her way. It was a good opportunity to test her sincerity. He had almost expected her to withdraw. Other students in his morning batch barely managed to come at six. They would still be sleepy when they walked in. If they did come in time, it was only because of his reputation for being strict and turning away the students who reached even a minute late.

She looked at him agape for a moment. Five in the morning! Did he really mean it? Did he wake up by then? He appeared impassive. This was no joke! She took a deep breath and said, “Fine. I will be here at five.”

“Sonali. Sonali! Guess who is going to teach me from now on?” Piyali was exultant when she met her best friend on the way to college.

“Mukundo Babu accepted you?”

“Yes! And in the morning batch.” Sonali knew exactly what that meant. Ever since the possibility of Piyali joining Mukundo Thakur had come up, not a single day had passed when Piyali wouldn’t fill her up with all kinds of information about “Mukundo Babu”. Undoubtedly Mukundo Thakur was the most adulated classical singer of his generation in the city, and probably in the entire country. But Piyali’s veneration bordered on obsession.

“Congratulations! And how exactly are you going to manage all of it?”

“I managed with Gayatri Ma, didn’t I? It was she who spoke to Mukundo Babu’s mother about me.”

“I know that. But you yourself accept that Gayatri Ma has always been extra-ordinarily sweet to you. She adjusted her own time for you…”

“I know, Sonali. I know all too well. But anyway. I am going there at five in the morning. It won’t clash with anything else. Even the first tuition I have to give is at 8.30. I will leave at eight…”

“Five in the morning?” Sonali was incredulous, “How will you manage?”

“I will. Don’t worry.”

“And what does Kaki have to say about it?”

Piyali sighed, “You know very well. Ma never likes anything I do about music…”

“And still, you do…”

“So, what do you think? I am a bad daughter?” Piyali smiled sadly.

“You know what! Sometimes I do think that way. But then, most of the time I just marvel at you. Despite everything, you do not give up on music. Your classes, housework, tuitions to help run the house… And you still find time for music lessons and practice! I wish I were that obsessed about something.”

“I can’t give up my music. I love Ma, Sonali. You know I do. At least you should know that I do. Without her, we would have been on footpaths. But I am my father’s daughter too. And music is my life, my soul.”

“Sorry!” Sonali smiled in embarrassment, “I sometimes take the arguments too far. But you have my support. Don’t worry.”

Piyali also smiled. Sonali and she had been friends since childhood. Sonali always questioned her decisions. But at the end of the day, she did have unconditional support from her friend.

Piyali’s jubilation had vanished the next day.

“What happened? You went to Mukundo Babu, today. Didn’t you?”

“He turned me away.”

“Why?”

“I was late.”

“Late?”

“By two minutes!”

“Arr… For two minutes? At five in the morning…”

“I said the same thing and he had a reply ready.”

“Which was?”

“In music, if you are late by two seconds, you have missed the right time for the right note… and everything is spoiled.”

“What the… Even for all his reputation, this is…”

“But he is right, Sonali…”

“Come on. This is ridiculous…”

“This is discipline. And not only music, everything in life needs discipline…”

“What now?”

“I have one more chance. If I get late again, he won’t teach me.”

“And you are going to go back, of course?”

“Of course.”

“How was your new student?” Mohima Thakur asked her son during dinner.

“Not disciplined for sure. I had to turn her away today.”

“She was late?”

“Yeah.”

“By two minutes, Ma,” Aporna, Mukundo’s wife, interjected. “And he turned the poor girl away. I don’t know about music, but Baba has definitely passed on his fanaticism to him.”

“Aporna! If you can’t be respectful towards your father, at least be respectful towards my Guru,” Mukundo glared at her. Aporna just shrugged.

Mohima sighed. May God be with the girl, she prayed for Piyali. Gayatri Devi had sounded so fond of her. She had known her father and after his death and taken over as her music guru. But her own health was failing her now. “I don’t care so much about others, Mohima. But this girl deserves the best. She still has a lot to learn and she is keen to learn. Pandit ji is not alive now. So, I can only look to Mukundo. He should hear her sing once. And then he can decide whether or not he wants to teach her,” she had said.

“But Ma. You know that all my students start early…”

“She hasn’t been sitting around, Mukundo. She has been training since she was a child. First under her father, then under Gayatri Devi.”

“So what?”

“Don’t be so arrogant, my son. Gayantri Devi and Pandit ji were good friends. They respected each other so much. If she is recommending her, you should give her one chance, as a gesture of respect towards Gayatri Devi. She deserves that much.”

Mohima had a point and Mukundo had to agree to her.

“She won’t be able to pay though.”

“You know I don’t care about that.”

To be continued

The First Option (Part 11)

Posted 9 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 Leave 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 Leave 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

The First Option (Part 8)

Posted 2 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“For today… You had to remember some horrible things… And you got late for your office,” she chuckled, then turned serious again, “And for everything that you, and Baba, had to go through to bring me into this world.”

“I will give you one tight slap, if you ever talked like that, Mou.”

“Mamma…”

“No. I am serious. What nonsense was that? We have brought you into this world, because we love you. And if we went through anything for you, it was because you were our responsibility, not because we were doing some charity for your biological father. You were not his. You were ours. And you will remain that. Always. Do you understand?”

“Yes Mamma. And I am sorry for saying this. This isn’t what I meant. Please. Don’t be upset.”

“Should I stay back today, Shona?” Piyali softened immediately.

“No Mamma. I will be fine.”

“Sure?”

“Yes Mamma. Don’t worry.”

“Mukundo Babu!”

Mukundo was surprised to see her at the university. Even after all these years of being together, her sudden appearance brightened up his face. “What’s up? Bunking work?” He grinned.

“Need to talk to you…” Piyali hadn’t originally planned on telling him anything about her conversation with Mou. But she had hardly left her home for work, when she started feeling guilty about keeping a secret from him. She called her office informing them that she would not be coming and drove towards the university instead. This couldn’t be discussed on phone.

Mukundo became somber, “What is it? Everything all right? Is something wrong with Mou?”

“No. No. Just… Do you have a class now? Can we go to your office?”

“Let’s go.”

She slumped on the visitor’s chair when they entered his office.

“What’s wrong Guddi?” he still used all his nicknames for her. When Mou was born, he had joked that he had already used up all the endearing nicknames for Piyali. What would he use to address their daughter? And then he had named her Mou. Honey. She was about sweetness and love.

“Mou knows,” she said quickly before she would lose the nerves to say it.

“Mou knows?” he didn’t understand immediately.

“About… Ahwaan,” Piyali added in a weak voice.

Mukundo was startled as expected. His subsequent reaction, however, surprised Piyali. He sank down in his chair and closed his eyes. Next he buried his face in his hands. He was… scared?

“Mukundo Babu?”

He looked up. She had never seen him like this. So unsure… So insecure…

“She is all right, Mukundo Babu. Why are you so… No Mukundo Babu. You can’t be insecure about this. You can’t appear weak, or worse, scared. She looks up to you. You are her pillar of strength. Mine too…”

“This is one thing I have been so terrified of Piyali. I… I don’t know… We should have talked earlier; we should have been prepared. But I… I just didn’t have the strength. Would she still accept me like earlier? I am afraid of losing her, Piyali…”

She got up and went around the table to him. She put her hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I never realized how you felt… I thought you knew and understood… But I should have told you, explicitly, that you have been the best father in the world. At one time, I had decided to put everything on stake to bring her in this world. I had even been selfish enough to marry you despite believing that it wasn’t the right decision for you. But today, if she doesn’t realize how lucky she has been to have you as a father, if she doesn’t realize that her biological father abandoning us had been our biggest blessing in disguise, then she doesn’t deserve you Mukundo Babu. I will disown her if she hurts you; or if she doesn’t give you what is your due as her father…”

“Piyali!” her extreme emotions surprised him.

“I am sorry,” she gave a nervous smile and spoke softly, “None of that is going to happen. She is your daughter. Mature, understanding… She was very brave about it. But may be… you should talk to her.”

Mukundo was still nervous, but Piyali’s confidence gave him courage.

Mou was way past the age when children are unselfconsciously mean and selfish with parents. She now realized her responsibility towards them. So, she had controlled her reaction over the shocking revelations about her parentage while her mother was around. But she was anxious, confused, and ever angry. She was conscientious. She knew she shouldn’t be angry at her parents. Who should she be angry on then? Her real… no… biological father? But what for?

She was pacing up and down in her room, when Mukundo knocked at the open door.

“Baba?” she was taken by surprise.

“Bored of studies I see?” he smiled as he walked in.

“I was… just… taking a break.”

“You know something Mou,” he spoke with a nervous smile as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Mou was standing across from him near the window, “I have spent hours and hours with my colleagues in Psychology department taking their advice on what to do about it, how to talk to you, whether to volunteer the information to you… And despite knowing everything that professionals say about it, I have done the dumbest thing possible. Forget about talking to you, I never discussed it with even your mother. Probably you are angry right now. Probably just confused. Or sad. Probably your mother has warned you against hurting me. The professionals have always told me that I was trying too hard to be a good father. Your mother also thought that I would spoil you. Probably all that is true.  But the bottom line is that I have been the happiest and luckiest father in the world to have you. And I will continue to be that happiest father if you would share with me what is going on in your mind. Whatever it is. Even if you think it would hurt me. It won’t. Because even if I have tried too hard, even if I have spoiled you in the process, one thing I am really, really proud of is your trust in me, and the honest relationship we share. If there is anything you want to know, if you have any questions at all, if you want something…”

“Baba,” Mou interrupted him, “Please don’t cry. It scares me… Please.” Mukundo hadn’t realized when tears had started flowing out of his eyes. It affected his daughter, and she also started crying.

“Oh God! I am sorry,” he went to her, “Come here, Shona. I’m so sorry.” He hugged her, “There is nothing to be scared of. Oh God!” He realized that Mou was shivering from anxiety and fear. “Piyali! Piyali. Come here.” he got worried and called her.

“What happened?” Piyali rushed in.

“She is… she is crying…”

“Mou. Come on Shona. Stop crying. Don’t you remember what I told you? Nothing has changed. Why are you scared? Calm down, darling.”

Mou wiped her tears with one hand, while still holding her father with another. Then without saying word, she just embraced him again. Mukundo patted her head. He looked at her bed. It was strewn with her books.

To be continued

The First Option (Part 7)

Posted 4 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“Mamma! What is your blood group?” Fourteen-year old Mou asked Piyali, who was getting ready to go to the office. After Mou’s birth and few months of recovery, she had started on her journalistic career and had climbed its ladders steadily and well. She was the chief-editor of a major publication house in Kolkata. Mou’s classes were over for the year, and she was preparing for board exams which were to start two weeks later.

“A-positive.”

“And Baba’s?”

“O-positive.”

“How is that possible?”

“Why?”

“Mine is AB-positive.”

“So? Mine was also different from my parents.”

“Different is fine. But it is predictable. If my blood group is AB-positive, at least one the parents’ has to be B-positive or AB-positive.”

“I don’t know. I was never a Science student,” Piyali grew nervous and tried to end the discussion, “I am getting late for the office…”

“Mamma!” Mou was a perceptive child and Piyali could not get away from her, “Science doesn’t change because someone decided not to study it. This is not possible.”

“We haven’t gotten our blood group checked in a long time, Mou. Probably I don’t remember it correctly. Probably mine is AB-positive… How do I know?”

“Mamma! Before asking you I had seen your blood-group from your driving license. Baba’s too. What do I not know, Mamma?” Mou was determined. And scared of what she was going to find out! Piyali’s heart sank. She had thought of discussing it with Mukundo a thousand times, so that they could be prepared for this day, if it ever came. But she never got around to doing it. The idea of ever reminding Mukundo of Mou’s parentage repulsed her. He doted over his daughter. He was his friend, philosopher and guide; just like he had been to her. The generation gap seemed to disappear between the father and the daughter. How could Piyali break the harmony of this relationship? But what was she to do now? How will Mou react to the truth? How will Mukundo bear it?

“Mou. Your exams are at hand. Don’t bother yourself with pointless questions…” Piyali made a last-ditch attempt at avoiding the storm.

“Mamma, tell me. Now!”

“Fine Mou,” Piyali sighed, “But you have to promise me something. That you wouldn’t say a word about it to your Baba.”

“He doesn’t know?” Mou looked even more anxious.

“Of course, he knows,” Piyali got slightly irritated as she realized what Mou might have thought, “I don’t have any secrets from him. And I know you don’t either. But what I am asking you to keep from him is your knowing it. And not just with words, even with your actions.”

“What do you mean, Mamma?”

“Don’t hurt him Mou. Promise me, you won’t.”

“Mamma, please.”

“You have to promise me before I open my mouth,” Piyali spoke in her tough-parent tone. Since Mukundo had been excessively indulgent with her, the responsibility of keeping her in line, when needed, had fallen on her.  So, she didn’t have any difficulty in acting tough.

“I promise. Now tell me. Who isn’t my real parent?”

“You mean biological parent, Mou,” Piyali corrected her, “Who do you think has not been a real parent to you between us?”

“Don’t keep me in this suspense, Mamma…” Mou begged.

“You were born prematurely Mou. There was a complication and I had made him promise that he would choose to save you over me, if that choice had to be made. It was a tough promise to make, but he made it. And then he had literally flown in doctors from everywhere to save you and me. You were weak after birth, and fell sick easily. I myself was so weak and sick that I didn’t think I would survive to bring you up. But I knew that I could trust him to care for you even more than I would. Your Baba spent nights after nights tending to you when you woke up crying; and he put both of us to sleep. He continued taking care of you even when I was better, because he could not bear to see you crying. He just had to ensure, personally, that you were calm and comfortable in sleep; and otherwise! He was willing to pull you out of school, when one day you came home crying because a teacher had scolded you. If you wanted something, he would get it, irrespective of what it took, even when I opposed it. Mou. He never agreed to have another child, because he said that his family was complete and he didn’t need anyone else. Truth is that he never even accidentally wanted you to feel neglected, not that he would have done it…”

“Mamma. Please stop,” Mou grew overwhelmed and started crying. Piyali embraced her and tried to assure her. “Nothing has changed, Shona. Why are you crying? You are the most loved child in the world. Your Baba loves you like no one else can. What do you not have?”

Mou overcame her emotional outburst and wiped her tears. “I still want to know, Mamma. How did this happen? Who is my…” she paused for the right word before continuing, “Biological father? What happened to him?”

Piyali just told her about their relationship, her pregnancy and breakup. She initially did not say anything about him wanting abortion.

“Does he know about me?” Mou looked hopeful. Such hopes wouldn’t do anyone any good. It was better to be done with the ugliness once and for all.

“He wanted me to abort you,” she steeled her heart as well as voice and informed her daughter.

Mou’s face fell. Piyali suffered at her daughter’s pain too. But she was thankful that Mukundo was not around. Mou had to face it and move on from it someday or the other. He would have been heart-broken though.

“Parenthood is not about blood-relations Shona,” she pressed Mou’s hand and spoke somberly, “It is about love, care and responsibility. If you can trust my judgment, that man backing out of our lives was the best thing that happened to both of us. Otherwise we would not have had your Baba. That man could never measure up to Mukundo Babu, Mou. Never ”

“But what about Baba, Mamma? Did Baba marry you because you were pregnant with me?”

Piyali smiled, “No. He wanted to marry me. We both wanted it. Although it took some time for us to realize that the other person wanted it too.”

“You are not making any sense.”

Piyali briefly told her about the conversation they had after five months of their wedding. She didn’t tell her about Ahwaan’s role in it. The less curious she felt about him, the better it would be for her.

Mou had a smile on her lips when Piyali finished telling her how both of them had remained silent thinking about the other person’s discomfort. “I can’t believe this,” she said, “You were crazy. How could you not let each other know even after getting married? Five months?”

“What can I say, darling?” Piyali patted her daughter’s head and blushed slightly, “I could blame it all on the pregnancy hormones. But I know that was not the case…”

“Mamma!” Mou turned serious again, “Does Baba regret it any time? Does he regret me?”

“No,” Piyali replied promptly and matter-of-factly, “He doesn’t have an iota of regret. He is very happy, trust me. If at all he does anything, it is over-expressing his fatherly love. He spoils you.”

“I know,” Mou looked thoughtful.

“And he is very proud of you Mou. He has very high expectations from you. Don’t disappoint him. Starting from your board exams. Don’t get disturbed by what we discussed today. I had a wrong man as a lover once. I suffered because of it. Only for a while though. But you always had the right man as your father. You should have no regrets. Okay?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry, Ma.”

Piyali looked at her worried. She called her ‘Ma’ only when she was extremely serious. “What for, Mou? Why say sorry?”

To be continued

The First Option (Part 6)

Posted 1 CommentPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“What’s the matter?” Mukundo asked when they were back at home, “What are you preoccupied with?”

“Nothing.”

“Guddi! No secrets from me, please.”

“I met Ahwaan today.”

“What? Where?” he jumped in surprise.

“While waiting for the car, after the play.”

“And?” he was getting worried.

“He said that you had called him.”

He stayed silent. Did that upset her?

“And that you talked him out of marrying me,” she added.

“What! Piyali…”

“I told him that he was a liar and he should take his dirty tricks elsewhere.”

He sighed, “You trust me, right? I won’t do something like that. Not to you…”

She nodded, “He was obviously bitter that I had moved on and wanted to create doubts in my head. I know that you won’t do that to me Mukundo Babu. You won’t have done that even if you really wanted me. A selfish person like him won’t understand that wanting someone is not the only reason to accept them. I do know, however, that the only reason we are here today is because you care for me infinitely…”

“Wait a minute,” he interrupted, “He was wrong. And so are you.”

She looked up at him questioningly.

“I had called him up. But not before you came here. After that. After you had told me everything. I had called him up in an attempt to persuade him to reconsider your relationship. I did that although I had already proposed to you. So, yes, he was lying and was trying to mess up with you. But I hadn’t called him because I didn’t want you, Piyali.  No. I had called him because I knew that even if you accepted me, you would feel burdened about that decision. Whereas if he came back, you would be happy. I had called him because I cared for you; because I wanted your happiness more than anything else in the world. More than even my own. And I care for you, and want your happiness, because… Because I love you.”

It was her turn to be taken aback. Really? Did he say that?

“You never felt that?” he asked.

“You have loved me ever since I can remember anything, Mukundo Babu. Like a best friend, a mentor, a guardian… Who wouldn’t feel that? Why else did I keep running to you every time I had a problem, or every time I was happy? But I never flattered myself that I was good enough to be your partner…”

“And I never told you how precious you are,” he said as if thinking aloud.

“You treat me preciously, Mukundo Babu. That is not the point. Not at all,” her voice quivered.

“What is the point, then?” he asked sincerely and eagerly.

“You said that the wedding was a formality; that I shouldn’t act like a wife to you, and… it has been,” she averted her eyes and looked down, “five months since our wedding. You haven’t so much as touched me. I don’t blame you, Mukundo Babu. I never fancied…”

Mukundo looked amused and overwhelmed at the same time. Piyali stopped speaking. She felt foolish all of a sudden. Mukundo broke the silence, “Wedding was a formality because all that mattered to me was that you would be in my life. Rituals didn’t matter to me. I don’t remember when I said anything about not acting like a wife. But what I must have meant was that… just be yourself. Nothing needed to change between us. I loved you the way you were. I would always love you that way. But I can’t blame you for not knowing what I felt, Guddi. I wouldn’t have realized myself what you meant to me if Kaka’s job hadn’t taken you away from Kolkata. It has been what… ten years? You were fourteen at that time. I had teased you endlessly before you left that I won’t even bother to remember you. And you were so upset. I didn’t mean that, of course. But I hadn’t known just how much I would miss you either.  I didn’t have any work to do in Mumbai every three months or so. I came to see you. It was like a regular fix I needed…”

Piyali was wide-eyed with the revelations, “You never told me anything. Did you… did you tell Baba?”

“I was twelve when you were born Pihu Rani. I didn’t think it would be acceptable to either you, or Kaka. And you had your own life…”

She flushed, “I… None of it was serious Mukundo Babu. At least not before Ahwaan…”

“Nothing to get defensive about. It was natural. You were exploring your world… I did tell Kaka after the wedding though.”

“Was that why he was in a better mood before leaving?”

“Probably.”

“You could have told me then at least…”

He sighed.

“What is it…” she asked eagerly.

“You wouldn’t have believed me. Whatever little I did say, you thought I said it just to make you feel good. And also… wouldn’t it have made me look like an opportunist? As if I was trying to take advantage of your vulnerable situation… Then I didn’t want to put you under anymore stress. I didn’t want you to feel pressurized to reciprocate my feelings. Everything was so complicated and I was trying to simplify it…”

“Pressurized? You are my hero, Mukundo Babu. You have always been…”

“Not a lover, Piyali…”

“Because I never dared… never dared to think that I could be good enough for you. You were this responsible, wise, nice man… Good at everything. Good with everybody. Even someone as exacting as Baba spoke so highly of you. The couple of women I had seen you with… How many years would it have taken me to be like them. And by then you would have become even better. I didn’t dare, Mukundo Babu. I was just thankful that you had not forgotten me like you had said you would. And that you kept coming to Mumbai and meet us often. I had always been so awed with you that I didn’t even think of looking for someone like you for myself…”

“You had said that…”

“Said what?”

“That you weren’t looking for someone like me for yourself. When you had asked me to talk to Kaka about Ahwaan you had said that he won’t approve of anyone, because he would only want someone like me and you weren’t looking for someone like me.”

“Because,” she smiled through her moist eyes, “Because there is no one like you. There can’t be. It would have been a wild-goose chase to try to find someone like you. I had kept you in my heart as the hero. For real life, I had aimed for much less. I didn’t think you were an option.”

He did not say anything; just smiled.

“I didn’t realize that you were my first and the final and the only option. Do you still love me, Mukundo Babu? Do you want me?”

“What do you think?”

“You do.”

“Yes. I do.” He went forward, held her close and kissed her, gently at first, then probing her mouth for long, leaving her out of breath by the time they separated. “I know it has given wrong signals to you, Piyali. But I will wait for our baby to safely come into the world. This baby is the reason you are in my life finally. It is very precious to me.”

Him saying “our baby” did not escape her notice. Everything was indeed going to be all right.

To be continued