Ultimate Reunion (Part 4)
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