Tag: Indian romance

The Normal Life (Part 3)

Posted Mish6 CommentsPosted in English, Inspired, Protim-Sarah

When I came down for tea, there was another young woman in the hall. She spoke Kannada and introduced herself to me. Her name was Kaveri. She was a local woman and worked as Ananya’s aayah. Chanda had too much to look after, as she did all the cooking and cleaning. So, Mr. Roychowdhury had hired Kaveri to look after his daughter.

“Annie baby is sleeping,” she informed me, “And I hope Sir comes before she wakes up. She has been quite cranky today. She would demand to see her Daddy.”

“She is very attached to Mr. Roychowdhury, then.”

“What is a motherless child to do?”

I thought of inquiring about her employer’s routine and when he was expected home that evening. But I checked my curiosity.  It would appear too forward and intrusive for a newcomer. I, instead, focused the conversation on my ward and her mother.

“Her mother is dead?”

“Don’t know.”

“Don’t know?”

“Some people say she’s dead. Some say she ran away. Some say they are divorced. Chanda Auntie doesn’t say anything. So, I don’t know. And I am not really the kind to put my nose in other people’s affairs. All I care about is that Sir is a really good employer. A gentleman.”

‘Unlike his driver,’ I thought as I recalled the man who was supposed to pick me up today. I had been civil with him to the end. But that was only because of the strange circumstances. In any other situation…

I was tired, and at Chanda’s advice went to bed early. Neither Mr. Roychowdhury had returned by then, nor Ananya had woken up. So, I could meet neither of them on my first evening.

—

I slept soundly despite unfamiliar surroundings and the room whose size threatened to gobble me up. I woke up at five by habit. The hilly air was chillier than what I was used to in Bangalore, but not uncomfortable enough to keep me in bed. I got up and washed, then felt puzzled. What was I to do now? No assigned duties?

I looked out of the window. The house was in the middle of a coffee plantation and the vast expanse tempted me to take a walk. I didn’t notice the short figure doubled over amidst the plants and was so startled when he suddenly stood up that I let out a small cry.

“Ah! The ghost again!” my acquaintance from the previous evening exclaimed.

The recognition and the oddity of his remark struck me at the same time. “Excuse me?”

“Good morning, Ms. Jacob.”

“What ghost?”

“I don’t suppose you have cat paws. So, your ability to appear from nowhere without making a sound can only be explained by you being a ghost.”

“I see. You have a penchant for plausible explanations, instead of the exotic.”

“I had wished you ‘good morning’. To think that Annie is supposed to learn from you.”

“Let my employer be the judge of my suitability.”

“Ahan!” an all-knowing smile formed on his lips. “Sure,” he added, “From what I know, he would like to meet you at breakfast.”

“Thank you. Have a good morning.”

—

I struggled between the four dresses I had. Two black ones, one of which I wore at night and was still wearing while on my walk that was cut short.  The other black one I had worn the previous day. One was a cream dress, with a bit of lace. Too festive, I thought with my orphanage standard and settled on the brown one. I redid my hair and applied a little face cream. There was a full-length mirror in the room. I looked at myself critically. Was I ready for Mr. Roychowdhury? Well. This was the best I could do. And anyway. My job was to teach his daughter, not to groom her for some beauty contest. My fashion quotient didn’t matter. I repeated this like a mantra to myself. Deep down, I wanted to impress him, but I knew my limitations. I wasn’t capable of being the fasion-queen. Better be the intellectual, then.

Chanda was setting up the table when I entered the dining room. Kaveri also stepped soon after her. There was no sign of the father or the daughter.

I tried to silently rehearse my introduction, but I only grew nervous.  And the sight of the man who was followed by a child in his tow did nothing to calm my nerves.

His eyes brightened up almost menacingly at my sight. “There Annie. That’s your new friend,” he addressed the child, “Ghost Teacher.”

“Ghost?”

“See. You scare her,” he looked back at me with a crooked smile, as he helped the child into a chair.

“You are the one scaring her with this nonsense,” I replied with a sharpness I hadn’t imagined using with my employer. But he hadn’t given me time to collect myself and give a studied reaction. “Hello Ananya. I am Sarah.”

“Are you a ghost?”

“Do I look like one?”

“I don’t know. I have never seen a ghost.”

“And one never sees a ghost. If you can see me, I am not a ghost.”

“Daddy?” the child won’t be satisfied unless she heard it from her father.

“I was joking, Annie,” he replied not angrily, but impatiently.

“And she can speak English?”

“Yes. She can,” he replied to her daughter, then explained to me, “Most people here, including our staff, speak Kannada. She doesn’t know Kannada. Never needed to learn it in Bangalore. I myself know only a little. I hope you know…”

“Yes. Of course, I know Kannada.” And that’s when it struck me. Why had I expected the driver of the house of speak impeccable English? That should have been the giveaway that he was… my employer. I could feel the blush creeping on my cheek. Just then my eyes met his and it seemed that he had read my thoughts and was thoroughly amusing himself at my expense. I wouldn’t give him that pleasure. I willed myself to appear normal.

He had already taken his seat by now. “Sit down,” he ordered me unceremoniously. Then frowned and added a reluctant-sounding, “Please.”

“Thank you.”

I knew even as I was eating that I was being gluttonous. But I just could not help ravishing the hot breakfast of idli, bread and egg with fruits. It wasn’t very often that we got to eat such delicious food to our heart’s and stomach’s content at Home of Hope. Everything was rationed there. Chanda might not be a Kannadiga or South Indian, but her idli’s were soft, and sambhar delectable. And she had made enough to feed the entire orphanage. For at least ten minutes I had as good as forgotten other people on the table – my employer and my ward. And Kaveri who was helping Ananya eat. And Chanda who was bringing more eggs, toasted bread and sambhar to the table.

Mr. Roychowdhury must have noticed how greedily I was eating. He waited until I had finished eating and had picked up coffee to speak to me about the job.

—

To be continued

The Normal Life (Part 2)

Posted Mish5 CommentsPosted in English, Inspired, Protim-Sarah

I got down from the bus at a stop before the town of Madikeri. I was expecting someone to meet me there. The village, I had been told, was about six kilometers from that stop. It was better to stop there than going all the way to Madikeri, as that would have taken me four kilometers further from my destination. But I didn’t see anybody who was looking for me. It wasn’t a particularly busy stop. Other passengers who had disembarked with me dispersed soon and I found myself alone. There was only a small coffee shop at some distance from the bus stop shelter. At first I waited patiently, but grew anxious when half an hour passed.  The sunset hour was looming. It couldn’t be safe for me to be there for much longer.

Trying to appear unabashed and nonchalant, I walked to the coffee shop and got myself a cup of meter coffee. I asked the shopkeeper about my destination – Hojukeri. It was six kilometers from there, as I already knew. No bus would be available until next morning. Could I walk? Yes. I could take the way through fields so that I would have two kilometers less to walk. But if I was a stranger to the area, taking the mud road was a better option. It was the fourth village along the road. I sipped my coffee slowly, hoping that the shopkeeper would offer some more assistance, in some way. But he was an absent-minded man, who didn’t mind answering the questions that were put to him, but paid no further attention to me. A young woman asking about a village so difficult to reach at this hour, with nobody to accompany her, did not pique his interest as it would normally have done for anybody else in his position.

Realizing that no further help, or information, was forthcoming, I gulped down the rest of my coffee, tendered exact change for him, and set off to the village. I should have been afraid that that I might reach the wrong place, or never reach there, or given that nobody came to fetch me, I might no longer be wanted there. But I wasn’t thinking of such possibilities. I was solely concentrated on reaching where I had to. I put my arms through my bag’s strap and made a makeshift backpack out of the duffle bag. It wasn’t as comfortable as a regular backpack would be. But it would be less tiring in my six kilometers walk than having to carry it in my hands or one of the shoulders.

—

Apart from an occasional worker returning after the day’s labour, and a few stray animals, I didn’t have any company for first two kilometers of my on-foot journey. So, a jeep occupying a good portion of the narrow road was bound to draw my attention. I stopped in my tracks.

“What bloody roads…” A man appearing from the driver’s side of the jeep startled me.  He also noticed me, but didn’t show any signs of being embarrassed about his swearing. “Yes?” he asked her gruffly.

“Has your jeep broken down?” I asked.

“No. I like camping out. In the middle of a road hardly wide enough for my jeep.”

“Oh…. What?”

“Do you lack basic common sense, Miss? Of course, it is broken down. But you are walking, right? You can just go around it. You need not complain.”

“I… I was just asking if you need some help.”

“Are you a mechanic?”

“No.”

“I thought so. Leave now.”

I frowned and made to leave.

“Excuse me,” he stopped me.

“Yes?”

“Are you carrying a phone?”

“No.”

“Not carrying a phone? In this time and age? Heights of uselessness.”

“Excuse me?” his inexplicable rudeness got on even my orphanage-trained patient nerves, “Why aren’t you yourself carrying one, then?”

“Because…”

“I am sure you have a reason. And a lame one on top of that. So, please do allow for the possibility that others have their reasons too.”

“I see. What kind of reasons they may be?” Later I would know that he was amused at this point, but then I was too angry to notice.

“Like people can’t afford it…” I stopped short. Why was I talking like this to a stranger? My only concern was to offer help. And if he didn’t want any… But I could try once more. “Anyway. If you want to call someone, I could go to a phone booth…”

“The nearest one is three kilometers away.”

“I have to walk for at least four kilometers this way. So, if you can give me the number and message…”

“Where are you going?”

“Hojukeri?”

“Where in Hojukeri? Where are you coming from?”

“I am not comfortable telling a stranger all about myself.”

“If I wanted to abduct you, I would have done that already. But you have yourself declared that you have no money. So, what will I take the risk for? Anything else you can give, there are less dangerous ways of getting that.”

I flushed. And if only to hide my embarrassment, replied to his question, “I am coming from Bangalore. I have to go to Mr. Roychowdhury’s farmhouse.”

“Sarah Jacob?”

“How… how do you know?”

“It’s you I was supposed to pick up. But the jeep broke down…”

“Oh!”

“Would you mind babysitting this monster,” he pointed to the jeep, “While I go and make some arrangements to send you to your destination? And also to fix this?”

I hadn’t realized that I was subconsciously so anxious about my situation. Knowing that my future employer hadn’t just abandoned me gave me such relief that I did not refuse his rude driver’s offer even for formality’s sake. I no longer fancied walking, not even for another hundred meters. So, I nodded at him. He left once I was safely inside the jeep.

—

He came back in an old, rickety ambassador accompanied by a driver and a mechanic. He asked me to go home with the driver. Presumably he’d follow after getting the jeep fixed.

At home I was met by the housekeeper – Chanda. She was a kind-looking, elderly woman.  But she spoke mostly Bengali and some broken Hindi. I spoke Kannada and English, and extremely broken Hindi. Communication was going to be a funny, when not problematic!

But there was something inviting about her. She was, obviously, glad to have me there and showed me around enthusiastically. The tour ended when we reached the room on the first floor that was to be mine. With gestures and both our broken Hindi, we managed to understand each other. She was inviting me for tea after I had freshened up.

The idea of a room to myself, with an attached bathroom to top that, felt unreal. There was too much space… Just for me… What was I to do with this? How was I to stay alone? Over time I came to love the privacy I had for the first time in my life. But it was a bewildering idea just then.

To be continued

The Normal Life (Part 1)

Posted Mish5 CommentsPosted in English, Inspired, Protim-Sarah

Sarah

“Thank you, Father,” my voice cracked.

“You are welcome anytime, my child,” Father Jacob smiled fondly.

“Father. You must know… That I am not running away from God or His work…”

“Sarah! You cannot take what Sister Nivedita says to heart. You know how she is. But she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“I know that, Father. But what you think and say matters…”

“You are a restless soul, Sarah…”

“Because I don’t have enough faith?”

“Don’t berate yourself, my child. All work is God’s work. You don’t have to be in church to be of service to Him. Nor do you have to be a wife to do your duty towards mankind. The avenues are endless. And if you want to choose one to your liking, there is nothing wrong in it.”

“You are reassuring, as always.”

“I am not faking it, if that’s what you imply. You are going to help a motherless child. I can’t think of a nobler thing to do. And I am sure you will not give Mr. Roychowdhury a reason to complain.”

“I will not, Father.”

“God bless you, my child. Have a good night’s sleep. You have to leave tomorrow morning.”

—

But sleep eluded me. I had always wanted it. To get out of the confines of the church-run orphanage. To live a ‘normal’ life. I wasn’t exactly unhappy at the orphanage. But the idea of a ‘normal’ life had tempted me. I had never known that normal life. Home of Hope – the orphanage – had been my home since I was a day-old baby. Rumor had it that I must be from a well-to-do family. Father Jacob, then a much younger Brother Jacob, had found me on the steps of the church on a cold Saturday morning. I must have been fed well before being abandoned. Because I was sleeping soundly in a well-padded basket, beneath an old, but expensive, warm baby blanket.

Not everyone at the Home of Hope was like me though. Some had been with their families before they were orphaned, their guardians succumbing to diseases, poverty, crime, drugs or other unspeakable circumstances. Most of them did not have pleasant stories to tell about their earlier lives. Orphanage authorities had a tough time trying to rid them of the influences of that period – habits of swearing, stealing, physical aggression and what not.

But it was none of their lives that represented normal life to me. Whatever vague idea I had of it was from Vineeta. I was five years old, when she had come to Home of Hope. She must be a year older to me, and her parents had died unexpectedly, in a car accident.

She had been so frail, so vulnerable. She cried all the time, asked for her parents and barely ate. When she did come to terms with the death of her parents after a about a week, it was with me that she talked the most. She told me about her parents, her house, how her mother cooked for everyone and fed her lovingly, how her father always brought gifts for her and loved her. She didn’t have chores to do, she did not have to make her own bed, and she could always eat whatever, or how much ever she wanted. The only time her parents admonished her about food was if she ate too little.

Few days later, Vineeta was gone. Her maternal Uncle came and took her away. She still had a family. She needn’t stay in an orphanage.

She had barely been a part of my life for two weeks. But she had given me an itch for a lifetime. The itch to have a normal life outside the orphanage.

Once the girls of the orphanage grew up, there were usually two respectful ways for them to settle their lives. They either got married, usually into lower-middle class Christian families, with the help of the patrons of church. Or they took up church duties, often choosing to become nuns. Them taking up jobs was a recent development and still very rare. Most old-timers, Sister Nivedita being one of them, frowned upon it. Surprisingly though, it was the oldest and the senior-most Father Jacob who supported the choice of these girls. I was a beneficiary of his generosity. He wouldn’t say it in so many words, but he worried about me more than the other girls. Because of what he called the ‘restlessness of my soul.’ He had himself looked out for a job for me. This job had been recommended by a long-time trusted friend of his. Mr. Protim Roychowdhury was a friend of this friend. He had recently bought a plantation at a small village near Coorg and had shifted there with his five-year-old daughter. He wanted a home-tutor for her. He did not trust the local school education much. He needed someone who could stay with them. Not many city educated women fancied staying in a village, howsoever scenic the hills and plantation might be. As for me, I had to start a normal life. If it was to start in a hilly village in Coorg, so be it. Father Jacob was satisfied with my position, as it would not throw me out in the big, bad world at once. I would be at someone’s house and could transition gradually.

But, would it all work out?

—

“We could have sent someone with you, Sarah,” Father Jacob offered once again.

“I will be fine, Father. I really will be,” I assured him yet again.

It was time to take leave from my friends, teachers and caretakers. I felt guilty. I wasn’t as emotional as I had seen the other girls become when the time to leave came. It had been my home for twenty years. But all I could feel was anxiety, trepidation and expectation of what was to come. The thought of leaving all these people behind did not bother me. The only exception was that little tug at my heart about Father Jacob. Let me not be modest and declare the truth. I had been his favorite. He had found me and had saved my life when I was abandoned at the church steps. He had been my friend, philosopher and guide. He had given me his name. I was Sarah Jacob. And this Sarah Jacob was now going out – to live a normal life.

Those who have not been in my position would not understand my excitement about moving from a city like Bangalore to a village in hills. Going from a happening place to a stagnant one. But I was excited. What mattered to me was that I was going out of the orphanage and would live my life on my own. A real life!

To be continued

Not the Lovers (Part 9)

Posted Mish8 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

Mukundo began typing an apology. He had crossed the lines too soon. Why would she go so silent otherwise? He had either freaked her out or…

The knock on his bedroom door stopped him from hitting send.

“Piyali!” he grew wide-eyed as he opened the door.

She smiled nervously.

“What are you doing here?”

“That’s not a fair question after the message you sent…”

“You shouldn’t have come…”

“Why not?”

“All this is… too much… too soon…”

“Twenty three years of my life… a broken engagement… almost scandalous… Weeks of uncertainty… Confronting my father… It is too soon?”

He let her in before he replied. “You had lied when you said that I knew everything about you. This was a side I had never known…”

“You had chosen to ignore and overlook.”

“And you never tried to show me…”

“You were beyond me, Mukundo Babu.”

He sighed. “I can’t blame you for thinking so. I should have known better…”

“Hmm… But things would have been pretty boring, if we had known all along…”

He chuckled and pulled her in his arms. “Thanks for coming, Piyali. You have no idea what it means.”

She smiled shyly and averted her eyes.

“But you should leave now,” he added, “It’s late…”

She looked offended.

“I will always respect your decisions and judgment, Mukundo Babu. Obviously yours are superior to mine, like they have always been. But I will ask for one concession now. You can’t keep treating me like a child. If you think that ours should be a platonic relationship. Not just now, but even forever, that’s what I will go with. But you still can’t treat me like a child…”

“No. I can’t. And that’s not the reason…”

“We aren’t married yet…” she couldn’t help taking another guess at the cause of his hesitation.

“No silly,” he smiled fondly, “I am not in that camp. I am just scared…

“Scared?”

“Yes. Scared… Of the intensity of my feelings… I had been oblivious of them all these years. And now that I aware… they are so strong that they threaten to tear me apart… And I worry about what they will do to you…”

“Let’s get torn apart together then…”

He looked at her for a long moment, and she met his gaze steadily.

“Yes. Let’s,” he said at last, “Let’s tear each other apart. Let’s get torn apart together. It’s worth it.”

She closed her eyes as his breath on her neck made her hair stand up. Then he went ahead and planted a kiss there.

“Mukundo Babu!” she hissed.

He withdrew slightly, but continued holding her; then led her to the bed.

“It hasn’t been long,” he whispered as he laid her down, “Since I first imagined you here… on this bed… in my arms… But ever since I did, I didn’t remain the same man… The idea of love, marriage, family… It didn’t remain alien to me any longer… It became real… It became a necessity even…  After a long, long time, Piyali… the idea of being rooted, of being connected to one person again became appealing to me…” He held her close and tight as he bared his heart to her, “Everyone, including you, thought that I had over-reacted to a betrayal in my life. Sometimes even I thought so. But you know what I think now? I think it was my destiny that I should react like that to it. So that I had the patience to wait for you… Having you was my destiny… One I can’t complain about…”

He noticed the tears that had filled her eyes and were now running down her cheek. He lowered his lips and kissed them away.

He withdrew for a moment to take off his kurta. As he looked at her shivering form and a thought suddenly struck him.

“I know… it isn’t a good time to ask. But I must know. Is this… your first time?”

She drew in a sharp breath at the question, and closed her eyes before nodding.

He had asked the questions only out of a concern for her well-being. So, he almost felt ashamed that her reply caused his desire to swell even further. Primitive instincts! Checking those with difficulty, he told her, “It might be awkward, or uncomfortable. And if that happens, you must tell me.”

“Mukundo Babu, please!” she was impatient and embarrassed at the same time.

“No. Skirting around won’t do. You must tell me. Promise me.”

She nodded.

His primary urges were so potent that it took him all his will power and some more to not immediately pounce on her. He slowly undressed her and gave every inch on her body his attention. He waited for the confirmation of the effects of his ministrations in her low moans and hard breaths. Only then did he let go of his restraints and enter her. If he hadn’t warned her about potential discomfort, she might have cried out. But being forewarned, she managed to bite her tongue in time.  It was painful, painful enough to drive out all other sensations she had been feeling just moments ago. It, however, gave her opportunity to notice how ecstatic he was.  She closed her eyes feeling his presence around and inside her. After the first sensation of pain died, she realized that it wasn’t that bad. It was still uncomfortable, but not painful. Few moments later, she started enjoying it. And before she knew it, she was moaning again.

—

“Are you okay?” he asked even before he had caught his breath.

“Yes.”

Relieved, he collapsed beside her. After a while, he propped himself up on his arms and gazed at her.

“What?” she asked, happy, but embarrassed.

“So many questions are bubbling up in my head. But I shouldn’t be asking right now?”

“Why not? Ask.”

“Okay… Then first of all… How was it?”

“What?”

He grinned.

“Oh God! Mukundo Babu. No!”

He laughed. A hearty and happy laugh.

“Do you have something else to ask?” she pretended being cross.

“Hmm… yes,” his eyes twinkled with mischief. She had never seen him like this earlier. And it was heartening to think that she was the cause of his liveliness. But to her disappointment he grew sober as he spoke, “It’s odd to be asking this. I don’t know if I should… But with you, Piyali… I tend to think I can take liberties.”

“Of course, you can, Mukundo Babu. Just ask…”

“You and Pronab… I am surprised, you never… You had decided to get married!”

She sighed. “I told him I was not comfortable and he respected that.”

“Hmm…” a slight smile appeared on his face. Given that she had been so forthcoming with him, he assumed that it was an alibi.

“I wasn’t lying,” she said, “I wasn’t comfortable.”

“It feels boorish to say this – but I am happy to hear that.”

“And I am happy to see you happy, whatever be the reason.”

“Don’t be in any doubt about that. You are the sole reason.” He bent and kissed her forehead.

She smiled, overwhelmed.

“We need to get married soon,” he said again, “But right now there are facades to be maintained. You need to go back.”

“Yes,” she sat up, clearly sorry at the realization, but understanding the necessity of it.

“Piyali.”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Mukundo Babu.”

– The End –

Not the Lovers (Part 8)

Posted Mish5 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

His smile after Mr. Banerjee left was strained and she did not fail to notice it.

“I hadn’t planned it, Mukundo Babu,” she started explaining, “It’s just that he asked about you, how you were not quite yourself and then one thing followed from another… I put you in a situation you were not prepared for. I am sorry.”

“It has ended very well, hasn’t it?”

“I would think so…” her throat went dry at the thought that he didn’t sound enthusiastic. “But looks like it hasn’t…”

“Oh! Piyali. Don’t hate me for this. I am just confused.”

“Confused?”

“I don’t know what to do… what to say… What do you want me to do, Piyali? What will make you happy?”

“Mukundo Babu!”

“I am not… not joking…” he sighed.

“Mukundo Babu… I am not a stranger. You have known me all my life. It’s absurd that you should be anxious about me…”

“That’s why I am anxious. Because I have known you all your life. But I have never…”

“Oh God! I got it all wrong, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Mukundo Babu. I should never have opened my mouth before Baba…”

“Why are you saying that?”

“What?”

“Why should you not have spoken to Kaku? What was that?”

“What’s wrong with you, Mukundo Babu? One minute you look so crestfallen that I said what I did. And the next minute you are wondering why I regret saying it?”

“Crestfallen? Oh no! Now – I am the one doing it all wrong. That’s not what I meant. Wait… Let’s start from the beginning…  Just the thought of you going away had made me miserable. I had been an absolute idiot to not realize what our relationship had to be. And so… I never treated you like a… like a lover… And I may not know how to…”

“Didn’t you claim to know that you now know what romantic tomfoolery I liked?” she smiled assuredly now.

“Yes… yes… And yet…”

“You won’t be arranging for midnight delivery of teddy bears for me?”

“I can, I suppose…”

“But you won’t be comfortable.”

He looked guilty.

“What you need to remember, Mukundo Babu,” she went forward and held his hands, “Is that the romantic tomfoolery did not keep me committed to that relationship. Even though Pronab was a great guy. Because he was not you. He had to give midnight teddy bears, because he could not have given me the comfort of arranging a library I love and know by heart.  He didn’t even know how gardening beside you relaxes me and rids me of all my exhaustion and stress.  He couldn’t have introduced me to, or shared with me, the joys of early morning riyaaz. He wasn’t you. But even he could see that I could do without a lover. I couldn’t do without you, Mukundo Babu. Don’t be lover, if you don’t want to be…”

“But I want to be… Just that… Ideally, we should have given each other time before telling anyone else… But that was not possible. I couldn’t have… gone ahead with our relationship when I had such doubts about its acceptance. I couldn’t have risked both ours heartbreaks…  So, it had to happen the way it did. And now here I am… I want to be the lover you deserve, Piyali. I’m just afraid…”

“Why do you want to be that?”

“I want to see you happy.”

“Then don’t try to be my lover. Just be my Mukundo Babu.”

“And continue scolding you for not being disciplined?”

“Yes.”

“And continue using you as my slave labor?”

“Yes,” she chuckled slightly.

“And continue dragging you out of your bed for riyaaz even on cold, winter mornings.”

“Yes. Please.”

“That sounds simple enough.”

“It is.”

“But I may want more.”

“What?”

He disengaged his hands from hers and cupped her face.

“Piyali!”

The change in his voice was unmistakable. He was her lover, whether he wanted to be or not. He didn’t have to try!

She averted her eyes.

“Piyali. May I?”

She gulped hard, and nodded slightly.

He gently rubbed his lips against hers, and teased them enough to make her open her mouth. But the passionate assault she was expecting after that never came. Instead he withdrew. She looked at him in confusion.

“I need to go slow,” he said in a voice heavy with desire, “You and I – we need to get used to this.”

She wanted to scream out that there was no need to go slow. That she was ready for this and much more. But she couldn’t have said so much to him. Instead she just threw her arms around his torso and gently rested her head against his chest. Then ever so slightly, she planted a kiss there, drawing an audible gasp from him.

He gently pushed her away.

“My restraint is weak, Piyali,” he said, his eyes smiling helplessly, “Don’t test it. Kaku is outside. There will be a lot to answer for.”

She flushed and stepped back.

Much to her annoyance and his, his phone rang.

“Who is it?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Subodh.” That was his accountant.

“Take it,” she said, although she did not want him to take the call at all. But she remembered how anxious he was about playing the role of a lover. So, she didn’t want to stress him out. He needn’t feel that he was under any obligation to live his life differently, just because she was now there…. Well – she had always been there in his life. But now she was there as his lover! She didn’t want him to regret that.

He nodded and picked the call.

“What… Wrong numbers… Last date? … I must come there? … Why Subodh, couldn’t you…. Let me see… I will call you back…”

“What happened?”

“Some property tax papers had to be filed. They got submitted with wrong data earlier. And today is the last day to file corrections without fine…”

“You need to go?”

He nodded, looking guilty yet again.

“Then go. I am not going to disappear,” she managed to smile.

“I will be late in coming back.”

“Till when is the office open?”

“Filing has to be done online. But I must go over…”

“See you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah,” he smiled and awkwardly stepped away. He should have kissed her. He should have said bye. But instead he abruptly turned on his heels when he reached near the door and went out. Piyali slumped back on her bed.

—

“Awake?” she was surprised to see his text. He never texted. He would rather call her, if he needed to talk. But then, never before had he needed to talk to her at midnight. Only she did that, on his birthday.

“Yes. Came back now?” she replied

“Just a while back.”

“Go to sleep now. It’s too late.”

“Probably it’s my turn at tomfoolery now. But Piyali. I have never pined for anyone, not even for you, like I am pining for you now. I wish you were here…”

Her breath caught in her throat on reading that. Was it he, indeed? His romantic tomfoolery was good enough to kill her in a moment. To think that he thought he couldn’t be a lover! She wondered how to reply.

—

To be continued

Not the Lovers (Part 7)

Posted Mish5 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“What happened, Pishima?”

The old woman looked pale and haggard as she disconnected the call.

“Nothing, my child. Nothing to worry about… It seems Pronab has fallen ill.”

“Ill? He was fine until…”

“Dehydration, it seems. Nothing to worry about, really. But we will have to postpone the engagement… Don’t worry my child…”

“I am fine, Pishima. But will he be okay….”

“Yes… Yes…”

—

The first thing Mukundo noticed on entering Piyali’s room was a pink lehanga laid out on the bed. He smiled uncomfortably at her. “You are all right?”

“I am. But I am not sure about everyone else. Pishima is so miserable right now. I think his parents have confessed to her what he told them. That he doesn’t want to go ahead with the wedding. Baba has only bene told the story about his illness though. What do I do?”

“Put them out of misery. Tell them that you are okay with his decision.”

“Hmm… And I won’t be lying either.”

“Go on, then.”

—

“Pronab told you?” Her Pishima was aghast.

“That’s fine, Pishima. The face is that even I was growing uncomfortable. I am not sure I was ready to go away from Baba and Mukundo Babu.”

“Whatever could you mean… You can’t spend your life waiting on these two men, my child. And this…”

“Pishima. This wasn’t meant to be. It’s not his fault. He just sensed my hesitation. Tell Baba the truth and let go.”

“You? How could you…. Pihu…”

“I didn’t tell him to do this, Pishima. Trust me. But I am relieved. So, please let go…”

—

“You didn’t call me. I have been back from work for half-an-hour.”

“I have gotten out of the habit…” Mukundo smiled weakly.

“Well… Things are back to normal now, aren’t they?”

He took some time before replying, “Are they, Piyali?”

“Mukundo Babu!”

“We can’t keep looking the other way, Piyali. If we really want things to be normal, we have to talk it out.”

She nodded willing her heart to stop thumping the way it was.

“You have sacrificed a great deal for me, Piyali. The promise of a wonderful future…”

“We are starting on wrong foot then. I didn’t sacrifice… I merely got out of a situation which would have made us both miserable.”

“Granted. But even if for a short while, you had dreamt of love, a married life, a family, hadn’t you? Shouldn’t that dream be fulfilled?”

“Can… it… be?” she looked down and asked in a quivering voice.

“I don’t know. There are other people involved… But before we try to find out, we must know whether it will be acceptable to you…”

“Must I answer that first?”

“You are the only one who has to answer that, Piyali. Because as for me… Pronab has been very generous, God bless him. But he took away my peace of mind, by making me acutely aware of all your charms I had missed. By showing me just how desirable a woman you are… God! Piyali. Will I ever get out of this mess I have created…”

“Mukundo Babu!”

“Is it acceptable to you?”

“You know everything about me…”

“I need to hear it.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere except beside you my whole life. And if it helps, I didn’t just discover one day that you are attractive. I had a school-girl crush on you for long time. It just didn’t seem wise to act on it though…”

The most natural reaction for Mukundo was to pull her in his arms and let her feel his need. He even moved forward to do just that. But stopped short. Piyali noticed him clenching his fist and realized what effort it took for him to control himself. She gave him a helpless smile.

“Go Piyali. It is a long way before things can be normal again. I need to figure something out.”

She nodded and turned on her heels to obey him.

—

“Is Mukundo not coming today, Pihu?” Mr. Banerjee asked when the tea was brought in.

“Don’t know, Baba. I didn’t go there today.”

“Is everything okay, Shona? He has been behaving weird since…” his voice trailed away. He didn’t want to remind Piyali of the broken engagement.

“Baba. You don’t have to feel bad about the engagement incident. It was for good, trust me. I wasn’t ready to go away. Me and Pronab are still friends.”

“Are you?”

“We are.”

“If you are all right, what is wrong with Mukundo?”

“He is lonely, Baba.”

He sighed. “Is it a surprise, if he is? That one incident, years ago… And he refused to get married ever…”

“Is it too late for him now, Baba?”

“Why would it be too late? But does he think otherwise now?”

“Suppose he does, but suppose the girl in question is an unlikely candidate… like suppose she is not his age…”

“Why are you talking about, Pihu…”

“Suppose it is someone you don’t quite approve of…”

“Pihu, why are you being so cryptic? Ask him to talk to me. If it is someone he is having difficulty talking to, I am there. More importantly Didi is there. You know how deft she is with all these things…”

“Supposed it’s me…”

“Pihu!”

Just then they heard a click at the door and an unsuspecting Mukundo walked in. He stopped in his tracks though on noticing the expressions on their faces.

“What… what happened?”

Piyali started talking hurriedly. “Baba. Whatever you think, I assure you he hasn’t done anything that you can object to. Don’t be hard on him, Baba…”

“Go inside, Pihu. I need to talk to Mukundo.”

“Baba…”

“Leave.” Piyali didn’t remember when her father had been so firm while talking to her. He wasn’t shouting, but she knew that she had to obey him. With one frightened glance at Mukundo, she left them to go to her room.

—

It would not have been more ten minutes before there was a knock on her door. But Piyali was sure she had waited for at least an hour.

“Is this what you want, Pihu? You are sure?”

“Baba…”

“Answer my questions, Shona.”

“Yes Baba.”

“Well then… So be it. What do I want except your happiness?”

“Baba!” she couldn’t believe her ears for a moment.

“What?” he smiled at her.

She ran to him and hugged him, “Baba. Thank you, Baba. Thank you so much…”

“God bless you, my child. God bless you both…” Only then did she notice that Mukundo had accompanied her father. His smiling face was all she needed to see to know just how happy and content he was.

“Pishima will be mad at me,” she said as she withdrew from her father’s embrace.

“I have left you to other people’s care for far too long. For once, I will take responsibility for your happiness, Pihu. Don’t worry about Didi. I will handle her.”

“Thank you, Baba.”

“Just let me know when you want the wedding to be. I am not risking an engagement this time.”

They all laughed. He planted a kiss on her forehead and left her room, remembering to shut the door behind him.

—

To be continued

Not the Lovers (Part 6)

Posted Mish7 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“Did he say something, Pronab? Why is he so upset? Why is he drinking non-stop?”

“Sit down, Piyali.”

“Pronab. Is something the matter?”

“You have often worried about your Baba, haven’t you? Who would look after him after you leave? And you have…”

“Mukundo Babu…”

“Yes. He would. He would look after your Baba. But what about Mukundo Babu himself, Piyali?”

“What do you mean? Is there something wrong…”

“Your Baba doesn’t even realize how much he is going to miss you. But Mukundo Babu does. He is already missing you…”

Tears ran down her cheeks. “He is suffering because of me…”

“Piyali. My relationships didn’t work out in past, because I wanted a magic in them. I saw it in you. But I was mistaken slightly. It wasn’t with me Piyali. It was with him.”

That alarmed her. “What are you talking about, Pronab? I accept that Mukundo Babu is… he is the most important person in my life. And would continue to be so. But there is nothing…”

“Nothing even remotely romantic or sexual about your relationship. I know. And yet – he has this all-consuming need for you. What you have… It would be a pity to destroy it for another romantic or sexual relationship.”

Piyali had an uncomprehending, stupefied look on her face.

Pronab had to continue explaining, “Let me guess what you are thinking. You think I have changed my mind and am now playing all these tricks with you to absolve myself of the responsibility. No. Piyali. I have not changed my mind. I am only giving you and him a chance to change your minds. And if you decide not to, I promise that the rest of our lives would go on like we never had this conversation. I do love you, and I will support in whatever you decide to do. For now, I think you should deal with him yourself.”

—

“Pishima. Have you seen, Mukundo Babu?”

“He was complaining of headache. I think he has gone home. Must be tired with all these preparations. Where are you going…”

But Piyali ran out without bothering to reply.

—

“You aren’t exactly her brother, are you?” Pronab’s words would not stop haunting him.

“She is learning to speak better every day. Soon, she wouldn’t tire of calling you by name – Mukundo Dada…” Debangi had remarked all those years ago.

“Why should she call me Dada?”

“What else would she call you?”

“Why? I have a name.”

“But you are elder to her… That would be disrespectful…”

“I am not her brother. She won’t call me Dada.”

“Oh! This is our little rebellious American,” his mother had interjected, “Let it go, Debangi. And who knows…”

But Debangi wasn’t going to let go either. Finally a compromise had been reached. She would call him Mukundo Babu.  It was respectful enough.

This wasn’t the day or situation in his mind when he had childishly fought about what Piyali would call him. But was it providence? What was his mother hinting at with her interrupted “Who knows…”

“Mukundo Babu!” Startled out of his thoughts, he spilled some of the drink from the glass he had again filled up for himself.

“Piyali. What are you doing here? You should be getting ready…”

“After all the love and care and protection you have given me for so long, this was the best I could give you? This pain… This desolation… These drinks…”

“What is your favorite color, Piyali?”

“Pink. Don’t you know?”

“And your favorite sweet dish?”

“The ice cream you make…”

“Have you had a boyfriend?”

“When I was in fourth standard…”

“The one with a running nose?”

“Shut up! Don’t insult him… He is a police officer now.”

“I should be scared, then. Is there anything about you that I don’t know, Piyali?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes. Now I even know what romantic tomfoolery you enjoy. And how beautiful a bride, and how lovely a wife you will make… But it’s too late…”

“Nobody will ever be more important than you in my life, Mukundo Babu. Wherever I am…”

“No. At least on that count your fiancé is right. That is not possible. And that will not be right for you or for him. He will be the most important person for you from now on. And that’s how it should be…”

“Why should it be like that?” Pronab’s voice rang in the library. He was standing at the door.

Piyali and Mukundo stared at him embarrassed. For how long he had been there?

“I am sorry, I could not help listening,” he explained, “Kakima sent me here to find you, Piyali. Why should it be like that? Things can change. We aren’t even engaged yet.”

“I appreciate your spirit of self-sacrifice, Pronab,” Mukundo spoke, “But please don’t do anything rash. It will only result in misery and scandal.”

“Mukundo Babu…”

“No. Listen to me. We are all under a lot of emotional stress. And yes – I will suffer. But all of us know that you two will be happy together. You have also accepted it, haven’t you? Don’t let go of that certainty for a very uncertain alternative possibility that we have here. Me and Piyali, we are not lovers. And nobody might accept us as such. Who knows how Kaku or Pishima will react? Everyone will be unhappy…”

“And what does Piyali think? You don’t think you can make a one-sided decision for Piyali, do you, Mukundo Babu?”

Piyali stood bewildered, looking from one to the other.

“Piyali. Don’t feel guilty. And don’t let your guilt cloud your decision. It’s unfounded. You are not giving me pain. Or desolation… All these years, you have anchored my life; made it worth-living. You deserve your happiness, my love. And I will be very happy, if you are happy. Trust me.”

He was quite unaware of the unusual expression he had used for address her – ‘my love’. But Piyali, and Pronab, noticed.

“Listen to your heart, Piyali,” Pronab said.

“Don’t send me away, Mukundo Babu,” Piyali spoke after a long, uncomfortable pause, “We don’t have to create a scandal. We don’t have to be lovers. I will just not get married. It is as simple as that.”

“But Piyali. Pronab…”

“I’d like to wander some more, Mukundo Babu. In search of that magic. Who knows…”

“The engagement. Guests have been invited…”

“Leave that to me to get it postponed. Without a scandal… I promise… You two go to Kakima. And you would do well to use a chewing gum, Mukundo Babu. I can smell alcohol even from here. I am going home. Mom and Dad are furious that I am here since morning.”

—

To be continued

Not the Lovers (Part 5)

Posted Mish3 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

By the time Pronab and his parents had left, Piyali was exhausted and uncomfortable despite her initial enthusiasm to adorn herself to impress them. She tripped when she got up. Mukundo supported her and walked her to her room.

“Who had asked you to wear this monstrous dress? You look good enough in your salwar-kameez…”

“Well –for a change – it got a complement out of you, instead of complaint.”

“Piyali…” he softened immediately, “I…”

“I was joking, Mukundo Babu. Relax.” She sat down and squeezed a large teddy bear in her arms.

“Where did that come from?”

She blushed. “Pronab! He is mad, Mukundo Babu. He had it sent yesterday at midnight. To celebrate three-week anniversary of our first meeting. Can you imagine such tomfoolery?”

She had worded it ostensibly as a complaint. But she wasn’t complaining at all. It was her romantic dream come true. Since she was old enough keep awake till midnight, she had always wished Mukundo on his birthday at midnight. Either by barging into his home, or at least on phone. But he thought the practice childish and never returned the favor on her birthday. Wishes could wait until morning.

“Change into something comfortable,” he told her and came out of the room.

—

Their engagement was scheduled for after pujo.  The wedding would be in February. Pronab’s family was to stay in Kolkata for pujo. Piyali was on cloud nine.

“We must show Pronab all the Kolkata glory of pujo, Mukundo Babu. He has never seen it. And will probably never see it again.”

“How about you? You will never see it again, either.”

“I will. I will come for pujo, even if he doesn’t,” she was defiant.

Mukundo just smiled. “Where is your hero though?”

“He should be here any moment. There! Pronab!”

“What happened,” she asked him. He looked stressed out.

“It’s so crowded.”

“What is the fun of pujo, if the pandal is not crowded? Come. Have some…”

“Oh! Thakuma has brought home some five different kinds since yesterday. But I don’t like this, Piyali.”

“But it’s bhog..”

“I know. But I don’t like it….”

“No problem. Let me and Mukundo Babu finish it. Then we can walk around pandal…”

“I am suffocating here…”

“Take him out, Piyali,” Mukundo suggested, “He is not used to this.”

“Okay. Let’s go…”

“Umm… actually…” Pronab interjected, “Thakuma is expecting me at home soon. Some guests are coming. You stay here, Piyali. I will see you later.”

“Will you come in the evening? There are performances… Ours too…”

“Yes sweetheart. I will. Promise…” he said and leaned to kiss her, but she stepped back.

“Right…” he grinned, “Not here!”

She found it difficult to meet Mukundo’s eyes after that, even though he pretended that nothing had happened.

—

Pronab was thoroughly bored through their classical performance. But that made him acutely aware of how much they enjoyed performing together. It didn’t look like the rest of the world mattered. He might be a bad listener. But there others in audience who appreciated what they were singing and who had gone crazy applauding the performance. But even they didn’t seem to exist for Mukundo and Piyali.

When they sung a duet next, Pronab had to acknowledge that they deserved all the applause. It was a bliss hearing them sing together.

Gum hai kissi ke pyaar mein, ye dul subaha sham
Par tumhein likh nahin paun, main uska naam….

After the performance, the joined Pronab in the front row. Mukundo went again after a while for a solo song.

Chalo ek baar phir se ajnabi ban jayen hum dono…

Piyali tried to conceal it, but he could see tears in her eyes. “What happened?” he asked, concerned.

“Nothing,” she smiled to through her tears, “It’s his singing. Even if he sings the happiest song in the world, I am moved to tears. Don’t tell him though. It will be embarrassing.”

Towards the end of the program Piyali went on stage with a solo performance.

Ye galiyan, ye chaubara, yahan aana na dobara…

“What happened, Mukundo Babu?”

“Nothing. It just her singing. Don’t tell her, please. It will be embarrassing.”

And what was up with the choice of their songs? Those almost sounded like subtle messages to each other.

“An ice cream, Piyali?” Pronab asked as they were leaving the pandal.

“No. It isn’t good for my voice.”

“But you ate one at Mukundo Babu’s place…”

“Yeah. He started making ice cream at home because I could not give up my temptation. There he controls the ingredient and even temperature. Sometimes I only get a milk-shake instead of ice cream,” she chuckled, “But it tastes good.”

—

“Pronab!”

“What’s up, sweetheart? We are coming in the afternoon for the engagement. Couldn’t you wait?” he teased her on phone.

“You have to help me. I don’t know what’s up with Mukundo Babu. He is… He is behaving strangely. He is avoiding me. And he has been drinking since morning. Everybody is too busy with preparations to notice…”

“Arr… what can I do, Piyali? Why don’t you…”

“I… Pronab. I don’t know. Oh God! I am panicking… I can’t…”

“All right. Stop worrying. I will be there in twenty.”

—

“Do you love her?” Pronab found Mukundo on verandah around midmorning.

“Excuse me?” Mukundo was baffled.

“Do you love Piyali?”

“What kind of question is that, Pronab? Of course, I love her…”

“Nah! Not that… Do you fantasize about her? Have you thought about taking her to bed…”

“Have you gone mad?”

“It’s a very valid question. She is an attractive woman. And you two have been so close…”

“For God’s sake, Pronab. She is a baby!”

“Was… She was a baby. We all were, at some point of time…”

“Have you changed your mind? Is this your sick way of getting out of… By insinuating…”

“I am not insinuating. I was only asking. Let me guess. Here is how it is. All you want is that she remained close to you. Closer to you than to anyone else. And you don’t need to take her to bed for that. You don’t feel that need for her. But you do want to possess her. You have… all these years. And right now, probably the only regret you have is that she is going to go away. If only she had stayed in Kolkata… But here is what you have failed to take into account. As soon as she has a lover, or a husband, whether he is in Kolkata, or in Texas, he takes precedence over everyone else. You don’t remain the closest person to her. He becomes that…”

“I don’t know what you are implying. But if you hurt her, Pronab, I swear…”

“No. I won’t hurt her. If neither of you breaks down before the engagement ceremony, everything will go on as planned. She will have my love all our lives. Because I have never had anyone better than her. And am unlikely to have in future either. I will have her loyalty, devotion, unconditional acceptance and affection.”

“Then what is your problem?”

“Problem is not mine, really. I will have a good life. But what you have here – between the two of you – is magic. It is what I wanted in my life. I don’t think I can have it. You, on the other hand, have it. Even without being lovers. But if you won’t be her lover, someone else will be. And then… this magic will be lost forever. And you aren’t exactly her brother, are you?”

“You must be drunk, Pronab. Just go back and…”

“You are the one who has been drinking since morning, Mukundo Babu. Think it over.”

“I can’t be her lover. I have never given her what a lover should… Never pampered her… Never gave her a complement… Never…”

“Point is not what you didn’t do. Point is what you can do. From now on… And even about the past. If you looked at yourself form her eyes, you would be surprised… But to do any of that, you need to stop drinking…” Pronab said and walked out of the verandah.

Mukundo stared blankly at his glass. For a moment, it looked like he would throw it away. But he changed his mind and gulped the remaining content down in one go.

—

To be continued

Not the Lovers (Part 4)

Posted Mish6 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

It had been a year since their return from US. Mukundo had still not accepted his life in India. He missed his friends, his school, his sleepovers, his pancakes and baseball!  His parents had tried their best to make up for everything, taking him to best continental and American restaurants in the city, enrolling him in swimming classes, getting him video cassettes of his favorite movies and shows, but he had stayed cross with them. They expected him to get over his tantrums over time. But what really worried them that he had difficulty making new friends here. He was a fairly well-adjusted kid back in the US.

Mukundo remembered the fateful day when his mother had dragged him with her to their neighbor and long-time friends the Banerjees. Their daughter, Piyali, was three-months old. He had looked at the baby curiously as his mother had rocked her in her arms. Her eyes were already big then. Apart from them her little hands had drawn his attention. Curious, he had touched her hand, and to everyone amusement she had gripped one of his fingers. It must have been a coincidence that she had decided to exercise her hand at that moment, but Mukundo had found it quite hilarious. He had laughed heartily with others. He had come back the next day on his own.

“Would you like to hold her, Mukundo,” Debangi, her mother, ad asked him.

“She is so little. What if I hurt her?”

“You won’t. I will teach you exactly how to hold her… Come here…”

And he kept coming back. When she grew old enough to follow him, she went to him as often.

Apart from music, in which his father had started training him when he was much younger, Piyali became the anchor of his life.

—

“I haven’t slept the entire night,” Pronab declared when he entered her room. She had decided to meet him at her home instead of a public place today.

“Me neither.”

“So, what was Mukundo Babu’s verdict?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That was the reason for last night’s dinner, right? You needed his approval.”

She shrugged and smiled, silently accepting his speculation.

“So?” he continued walking towards her.

“You passed.”

“In his exam. And yours?”

“That is more difficult to answer.”

“Tell me, then, what should my answer to my parents be, when they ask me.”

“Listen to your heart.”

“Right now, it says that I should…” he drew her in his arms, “crush you in my arms.”

“Listen to it, what can I say?”

“Don’t stop me, then,” he bent down and planted a peck on her lips. Encouraged by her reaction, he sucked her lower lips, then attacked her mouth, tasting her to his heart’s content.

She was shaking by the time he pulled back. He tightened his grip further. “I was very skeptical when I had come here, Piyali. But impossible happened. Your charm was impossible to avoid. I fell in love.”

She rested her head on his chest.

“So, what was the ‘it’ that you saw in me?” she asked him later.

“What?”

“’I will know it, when I see it.’ What did you see?”

“You are fishing for complements?”

“I just want to know, because I want to live up to whatever you see in me…”

“Hmm… Let’s see… I think what bewitched me about you is that you are innocent, without being dumb. I see the hopes of a fairly-tale romance in your eyes. But you will forgive me if the fairy-tale doesn’t come true. Because you accept people with their faults.”

“We have barely known each other for three weeks. How could you have seen that in me?”

“Pardon me for saying this. But your father, for example, is by no means an ideal father. What I have heard from Kakima, and from what I have seen… You have to turn to others, Mukundo Babu, for example to help you in time of need…”

“Pronab, please…” she looked distressed.

“Yes. THAT. See – how you still love me. I hope to learn that from you. To accept people with their faults. My parents,. Myself. And hopefully, my wife – if she has any faults that is.”

“What do you know? I, of course, have many faults.”

“Like?”

“I am not at all disciplined. I would have failed all through if Mukundo Babu hadn’t made me follow a strict schedule for studies. I would keep postponing everything to the day of the exam. It is true with everything. Music practice, getting a job… He has literally made me do everything in time by being a tyrant.”

Pronab smiled, “I will learn to live with that. There is enough goodness to compensate for that one fault.”

“Nobody has given me complements at this rate before. I might as well be floating in sky right now…”

“How is that possible?”

“Why not?”

“Your Baba never praised you?”

“Oh! He is so blind in parental love that he sees no fault in me.”

“Mukundo Babu?”

She laughed out loud, “Can you imagine Mukundo Babu paying me complements? No way. He scolds me all the time. For good reason. But still… Do this… do that… Go home and sleep… Don’t eat ice cream, it will affect your voice… finish your homework first, then only can you go and play….”

“I can’t imagine him doing any of that… All I have seen in him is concern for you and your well-being…”

“That has always been there. But you are right. He has been strange recently. Sometimes too aloof. And other times too tender. So unlike him.”

Pronab opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and changed the topic. “Ready to meet my parents? They are coming tonight.”

—

“Piyali. Are you ready?” Mukundo knocked at her door. Pronab’s parents had come home.

“Mukundo Babu. Come in, please. I need your help.”

“What happened?” he came in hastily and stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw her. She was wearing a deep maroon, taant-silk saree, along with a heavy gold jhumka and necklace set. He worried for a moment that those thick bangles on each of her delicate hands might sprain her wrists. Her hair was already done in a loose, low pony tail and she was finishing her makeup with a simple red bindi. There couldn’t have been a more faithful representation of traditional Bengali beauty. How grown up and mature she looked. No wonder, she was getting married.

“Promila Kaki is too busy with guests, Mukundo Babu. I don’t who else to ask for help. The saree is so difficult to manage. I need a pin in my pleats. I am unable to put it myself. Can you? Please?”

He literally bit his tongue to stop himself from blurting out something inappropriate. He took the pin she chose and knelt to bunch together the pleats of her saree.  It took some effort, but finally he managed to set them straight.

“How do I look?” she was anxious.

“They might not wait for the wedding to take you with them,” he smiled and replied, “You already look like a bride. And the most beautiful one at that.”

She stared at him curiously.

“What?”

“Nothing… You have never given me complements like this before?”

“I haven’t?”

“No. Never.”

Yet another thing he hadn’t realized about her. That she had grown up to be a beautiful woman, who wanted her feminity and beauty acknowledged, appreciated…

Outwardly he just gave her a weak smile. “Come quickly. Everyone is waiting.”

People in the drawing room was as awestruck with her beauty as Mukundo had been. Mr. Banerjees eyes grew moist when he saw her.. He got up and gave her a quick side hug. Mukundo noticed appreciative smiles on her soon-to-be in-laws’ faces and the amorous glow in Pronab’s eyes.

The now familiar knot in his throat came back. He left the room, though he came back soon. In the hustle-bustle of seating Piyali and the introductions with Pronab’s parents, he felt that nobody noticed his brief absence.  Unknown to him, Pronab did though.

—

To be continued

Not the Lovers (Part 3)

Posted Mish2 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“Nothing for you, Piyali?” Pronab asked as Mukundo brought two mugs of beer.

“I don’t drink, Pronab.”

“Have you forbidden her from drinking, Mukundo Babu?” he asked jocularly.

“No. But I didn’t realize when she grew up to be old enough to drink. So, I never offered…”

“Mukundo Babu!” Piyali’s cheeks grew red and hot while the two men laughed.

A while later, conversations turned to sports and Pronab was surprised when Mukundo started talking about Super Bowl.

“How do you know so much about it? Since when have you been following it?”

“Since childhood.”

“Wow. I didn’t know Indians…”

“If it helps, Mukundo Babu is a US citizen,” Piyali interjected.

“He is? Oh! How come?”

“My Baba was there. A faculty of performing arts at a school in New York. I was born there.”

“When did you come back?”

“I was about ten years old.”

“Interesting. You didn’t mind coming back to Kolkata.”

“I wasn’t happy initially, of course. But this city grows on you.”

“Wow! Do you still go there?”

“Umm… yeah…”

“Mukundo Babu travels all over the world.”

“That’s great. And what do you do otherwise? Professionally?”

“For bread and butter – there is the family property to look after. For my sanity, I teach music. At some schools and I also have some students who come here.”

“How do you manage to balance the two?”

“I keep my music lessons confined to the first half of the day.”

They talked on and conversations flew naturally. Piyali felts at ease.  It was close to midnight when they finally thought of having dessert.

“Shanti Kaki has fallen asleep, I think,” Piyali said, “I will bring it. Ice cream, right?”

“Yes. You will have to leave it…”

“I know. At room temperature for ten minutes and then blend it before serving. Don’t worry.”

“So, why arranged marriage, Pronab?” Mukundo asked after Piyali was out of ear shot.

Pronab let out a sigh. “I’m surprised it hadn’t come up till now.”

“Piyali is intelligent. Her instincts are also right. But she hasn’t exactly seen the world. Someone has to ask! And please don’t tell me that it is because you are an Indian at heart.”

Pronab laughed, “No I won’t tell you that. But couple of disclaimers first. One – I haven’t decided on the arranged marriage yet…”

“I am aware of that,” Mukundo interjected impatiently. He wanted to get this over with before Piyali came back.

“Secondly, I realized only recently that nobody here knew my story. I don’t know whether Kakima didn’t know herself, or she knowingly kept it from people.”

“Never mind.”

“I was in a serious relationship until three months ago. My parents were against it…”

“She was a gori American?” he smiled.

“It wouldn’t have been a problem, if she were white. She was black. They couldn’t imagine holding black grandchildren!”

“And you gave up…”

“No. I fought with them. I told them that I would make my own decisions. I even moved in with her. Things sort of settled. When I visited my parents, they pretended that she didn’t exist. And we let it be at that… But…”

“But?”

“It turns out that it is easier to fight the external battles, or big crises, that threaten a relationship. What is difficult to put up with is the mundaneness of life. When all you have to fight with is each other. And you start annoying each other with where you keep your wet towel, what you like in dinner and whether or not you like to go to bars every night…”

“You broke up?”

“It had gotten ugly. I am only thankful we weren’t already married. Else it would have been tough.”

“Hmm… And you didn’t want to fight with your parents for another…”

“I wasn’t sure any longer if what I wanted from the relationship was practical. Probably my parents were right. That I hadn’t been sold into an impossible American dream. If you have to make compromises to keep a relationship anyway, I wondered if arranged marriages were not a better bet. At least you didn’t start with a dream of a soul-mate. You are prepared for those compromises. And I was being given a chance to know the girl before deciding…”

“Have you decided?”

“No. But I am aware that I will soon have to. But first, Piyali has to know about this. How do you think she would react?”

Mukundo had to think before replying. “I don’t know. It is strange. We are best of friends. She spends so much of her spare time with me. But I don’t know what she thinks about relationships, marriage… Whether she is mature enough to see in your story what I see? Or if she is too romantic about first love? I don’t know. I don’t know if she has had any relationships before… I never asked. She never told me.”

Pronab smiled. “Let me guess… You weren’t joking when you said that you didn’t realize when she grew up…”

“I wasn’t. Even if I was joking, it was only a half-joke. The idea of her getting married was so unexpected for me that I was thrown off the game. I didn’t realize until today that I needed to have this conversation with you. That too, before the two of you made up your mind… It’s just…” he stopped short on realizing that he had already spoken too much.

Pronab stared at him curiously for a while; then changed the subject. “I will tell her my story right away.”

“You don’t have to,” Mukundo shook his head and tried to get his bearings back, “I mean you don’t have to tell her before me… You can choose to…”

“Since I don’t know how she will react, I think it is better if it’s done when someone is around to support her, in case she takes it badly. Nobody better than you, Mukundo Babu.”

Mukundo nodded although he was terrified at the idea of having to console Piyali should she not take it well.

But she surprised him with her calm response. “Thank you for telling me, Pronab. I don’t know right now how I feel, or how I should react. Give me some time.”

“Of course!” Everyone was relieved.

“I should leave now. It’s past midnight,” Pronab finally said.

“How have you come?”

“A taxi is waiting for me.”

“Great. Have a good night then, Pronab.”

“Good night, Mukundo Babu. Good night, Piyali.”

—

“So?” Piyali looked at Mukundo expectantly after Pronab left.

“He is honest, and clear-headed, Piyali. He will never deliberately hurt you. He will not share your passion for classical music and dance, of course. But he would happily take you to the movies. Hollywood and Bollywood alike! So, beyond this, you have to listen to heart.”

Piyali blushed and chuckled. “Thank you, Mukundo Babu. Thank you so much.”

“Run along now. Go home and sleep. It’s too late. You will fall ill.”

“Oh, I won’t! But I will try to sleep anyway.”

Mukundo looked wistfully as she pranced away. She was a young woman in love. She will have to “try” to sleep, because it won’t come easily to her agitated, love-sick self. The object of her affection returned her feelings. They were yet to confess to each other, but if nothing unexpected happened, she would be married soon. And would fly away! He had been a myopic idiot to not foresee this day. But now he would have to get used to his life without her.

—

To be continued