Mish' Fiction

Siddhartha woke up as soon as the dawn broke. He woke Karishma up too and together they tried to find their way back. Midway, they met the policemen who had come in search of them. They were taken back to the hotel and finally everyone was at ease. After breakfast, they started back for Mumbai.

Karishma and Siddhartha were seated in different buses, both of them hardly aware of people around them.

“It won’t work, Siddhartha,” he recalled Sonali saying, “I can adjust. But you would be miserable. You want children so much. And if you are miserable, it won’t work out. Not at all.”

His problem had been discovered unintentionally, while treating an innocuous, temporary urinary tract infection. He had thought it right to tell Sonali right away. He hadn’t tried to influence her decision in any way; he hadn’t tried suggesting options about which he knew more than Karishma did. Thinking about Karishma brought a faint smile to his lips. But he shouldn’t think about her. She was being kind, but that didn’t mean anything more. It couldn’t. She was too young to know her mind. She had far too idealistic notions of the world. But yes – he couldn’t help comparing her kind, understanding reaction with Sonali’s. As if the pain of his inadequacy was not enough, Sonali had tried to impress that the relationship must be broken for his sake, and not hers. He was the culprit whichever way one wanted to look at it. But it was her decision to make. He had gracefully retreated. Not bothering even to point out to the cruelty and irrationality of her logic.

But did that bring him peace of mind? Wouldn’t it have been better to be impotent? To not have the desires in the first place, when there was no legitimate way of fulfilling them? Desires that he had gone around fulfilling in the ways he was averse to. He had never visited a prostitute during his student days. A sort of coming of age ritual many of his friends followed. But now – faced with the prospect of life-long loneliness he had given in.

He could never be at peace. And what he had seen in Karishma’s countenance yesterday could destroy her peace too. He would have to talk to her. He made a mistake in getting so intimate with her. He would have to rectify that.

—

“Still traumatized, aren’t you?” Mou asked gently.

Karishma smiled back, “Not really. If he hadn’t reached there, it would have been a different matter. I would have died of fear and anxiety.”

“Don’t talk like that. Who is calling now?” she took out her ringing phone. “It’s from your home Karishma. Why would they call me?”

“Probably my phone is not reachable. But I don’t want to talk to anyone, Mou. Tell them I am in a different bus and I will call once we are back in campus.”

Karishma started looking out of the window and didn’t see Mou’s changing expressions as she talked on phone. She didn’t even pay attention to her friend was talking about. Mou’s face was pale by the time she disconnected the call. “Karishma,” she touched her shoulder. Karishma grew surprised as her friend held her tight. “Listen carefully. And don’t be weak.”

“What is it, Mou?”

“Uncle… You father had a heart attack…”

“Another one?” Karishma’s eyes grew wide is shock.

“Yes. You need to go home urgently.”

“Mou… Is he…” She was shaking awfully.

“He is alive. Right now. But you need to go. We’ll pass by the airport on our way back. I am going to talk to Mrs. D’Souza. The bus will drop us at the airport and we’ll buy you a ticket. Okay?”

Karishma nodded absent-mindedly. All color had drained out of her face. It was deadly white. She followed Mou listlessly as they got down at the airport, Mou found out about the next available flight and booked a ticket for her. She hugged her before leaving. “Take care, Karishma.”

“Mou!” she finally came to herself, “Will you inform Prof. Sen?”

Mou nodded.

“What will you inform?” she muttered, “Tell him that I won’t come for the weekly meeting and I will miss the presentation too.”

“Don’t worry. I will tell him.”

“Pray for my father, Mou,” she was close to tears now.

“Oh Karishma. Don’t worry. Everything will be all right.”

She gave her another tight hug and Karishma walked towards the check-in counter.

—

Karishma had been her Daddy’s girl. In that huge household, with so many children growing up together, it was hardly possible for any grown up to lavish any special care on any of the kids. Someone or the other was always in the need to instant attention owing to some accident or illness. Nobody was ignored, of course. There was just too much communal care to allow any personal bond. But she still had that with her father. He seemed to understand what she wanted. Her going away from home for studies was an extra-ordinary decision in her conservative business family. But he had made it possible, although she hadn’t openly asked to be allowed. He had seen her applying to this prestigious college and had promised her that if she got the admission, the rest would be his responsibility.

This was the third heart attack he had had in last few years.  She wanted to hope despite herself. But her mind would just not shut up with its doomed predictions. Moroseness prevalent at her home was hardly unexpected when she arrived. Everyone rushed her to his room.

“He has been asking for you since morning,” she was told.

“Karishma. My child. Is that really you? Or am I hallucinating?” How weak he sounded. Her heart sank, but she controlled her tears.

“It’s me, Papa. I have just come.”

“You’d be tired.”

“Not at all, Papa.  It was a short flight. But you must not talk, Papa. You are weak.”

“Time to cling to life is over darling. You must listen to me carefully.”

She was incredulous about what she heard. She was the eldest child in her generation. When she was little, the family business had gotten into serious financial trouble and they were on the verge of bankruptcy. At that time, an acquaintance of theirs, a Jain family, had come to their rescue. “That was not the time of these fancy credit instrument and insurances,” her father explained, “Only someone shelling out hard cash could have saved us.”

That family had its own problem. There had been some scandals about the girls for that family for last two generations. They were, therefore, derided by the community and no respectable family wanted to have any marital ties with them. They wanted a promise from Karishma’s family that when she grows up, she will be married into their family. It hadn’t, at first, been acceptable to Karishma’s father. But finally it had been decided between them that the agreement will be kept only if the boy turned out to be suitable. That was, he should turn out to be well-educated, well-settled either in family business or outside, and had no bad habits.

—

To be continued

“Karishma…” It was almost nightfall. The word was unfamiliar in that voice, because he always called her Ms. Gupta otherwise. But she could have recognized that voice from amongst thousands.

“Prof. Sen,” she shouted back, but heard him calling her again. From behind the rocks, her voice was not reaching him. She dragged herself out in the open braving the rain and shouted again. “Sir, I am here.” He heard her this time and ran towards the voice. “Call again, Karishma,” he shouted after a while. She shouted back. In two or three such attempts he had reached her.

“Thank God. You are safe,” he hugged her to her surprise. “How could you wander away so far? Leaving your phone behind? Without informing everyone? Do you know how worried I was? All of us? Come inside. It’s raining crazy.” He tried to drag her back, but she cried out loud.

“What happened?” he was alarmed.

“I have sprained my ankle.”

“Oh God!” Without showing the least bit of embarrassment, he picked her up in his arms and took her inside. She wasn’t thin. He was strong! The rocks were now shielding them from rain. He settled her on a flat stone, took out a cigarette lighter, and kneeled to examine her ankles.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “It can be fixed. But it will hurt for a moment? Can you bear that?”

She nodded, but howled worse than a woman in labor, when he did jerk her ankle. It was fine after that though, as he had promised.

Temperature had dropped considerably because of rain and she was shivering. He had only a thin cotton jacket over his shirt and that too partially wet. But he took it off and offered it to her.

“It’s okay,” she hesitated, “You’d be cold too.”

“I’m the chaperon here,” he said and forced her to accept the jacket.

“Can we go back?” she asked.

“It’s dark already. Even I would not be able to find our way back. The police would have been informed. It is better if we wait for someone to find us”

She nodded.

“Would you be fine?” he asked looking concerned.

She nodded and spoke after a pause. “Sorry. For all the trouble. And thanks for finding me. As if getting lost was not bad enough, I also sprained my ankle.”

“I suppose I would want my children to be chaperoned, if they are accident-prone as you are.”

“I’m not accident-prone. It can happen to anyone on hills.”

“No? And what is that?” he pointed to a scar on her forehead, “You got that last Sunday in the football ground, didn’t you?”

“How do you know?” she was surprised.

“I was there.”

She knew he was there. He played tennis on Sunday mornings. The court was adjacent to football ground. And it was to watch him that she went there every Sunday. What she was surprised about was that he had noticed.

“Well. Not my fault really. The ball came my way. They should have been careful while playing.”

He laughed pleasantly, “Indeed. They should have been careful? And not you? Karishma! People come to the grounds to play. Not to watch opera. What were you thinking, sitting there, lost in some other world?”

She pouted outwardly, while dying with embarrassment on the inside. Did he know why she was there?

“You like children excessively, don’t you?” she said to change the topic, although regretted even that. Why couldn’t she hold her tongue before him? It would again go back to marriage and what not.

He stared at her for a long moment before answering, “Yes. I like them very much.” He knew what had prompted the question. She had seen him with the school-children. He did not ask the reason even for pretension.

“Then you should have your own?” she was uncomfortable with the silence and was unable to think of anything else to talk about. Jane Eyre. May be she should discuss Jane Eyre with him. But heck! She couldn’t remember even the opening line of that novel.

He took a long pause again before speaking making her restless, “I can’t have them.”

“If you won’t marry, you can, of course, not have them.”

“No. I can’t have them even if I marry ten times, Karishma. It’s me. I have a problem.”

She was tongue-tied for a while. “I… I am sorry… I… Obviously I didn’t know… I should… Is it… just…” She stopped. She couldn’t give words to the question that came to her mind. Was it impotence? Or just the infertility? But he understood it. Since he had already spoken so much, he went ahead and clarified that too. “It’s not impotence. But quality of semen…”

She let out her breath that she had been holding for a while.

He was facing away from her. She walked to him after a while. “That is hardly the end of life, Prof. Sen. There are so many options in today’s world. You can adopt. There is IVF. There could be other treatments.”

“Thanks to your feminism, Karishma, men don’t have to fight duels in defense of their manliness. But there are certain manly things whose absence even the modern society does not accept.”

“And it is one of those things, about which the society is more cruel to men than to women,” she added thoughtfully. A woman unable to conceive would be an object of pity. But not in the same way as a man not being considered man enough.

A silence prevailed, which she broke enthusiastically. “I agree that a large part of society can be quite stupid. But that doesn’t mean everyone is. I’m sure there are women who know better.”

He turned to her with a sad smile. “Give up, Karishma. The woman I loved didn’t know better. I don’t want to dream any longer. Looks like nobody is going to find us now. We’ll have to spend the night here. Sorry.”

“At least, I am not alone,” she assured him with a smile and went back to her seat. He also found a corner for himself and sat down.

She started discussing Jane Eyre with him now and after a while they both felt sleepy.

“Try to get some sleep,” he said.

“Yeah,” she acceded.

But once she laid herself down on the rocks, despite the exhaustion, she could not sleep. She kept her eyes closed for a while. But deliberately keeping them closed was irritating. She opened them after a while. The lighter was still on. She looked at him in its dim light. Then she could not stop herself. She got up, went to him, bent down and planted a quick kiss on his forehead. She stayed still for a moment to ensure that he had not woken up. They came back to her place and lied down. After a while, she drifted off to sleep, despite the dampness and cold. She didn’t see him opening his eyes after she had lied down, and looking at her tearfully.

—

To be continued

They climbed up the hill and found a shade to rest under. The lunch could wait. People formed different groups, some gossiping, some playing games. One large group was formed immediately for playing cricket. They found an area that was flat and large enough. Mou sat down with a group for playing cards. Cards didn’t interest Karishma. She picked up a book and wandered off.

“Still working on the project?” her secluded spot was discovered by him.

“Prof. Sen,” she smiled at him and got up. “Not working. It is fun to read in the natural surroundings. But yes – since I am reading the book, I’d as well use it in the project.”

“I won’t disturb you, then,” he said and made to go away.

“No. Please. Stay,” she said and felt awkward at her eagerness.

He pretended not to notice any awkwardness and sat down. She did likewise.

“So, where are you from?” he started the conversation, “You stay in the hostel, right?”

“Yeah. My family is in Kolkata.”

“Who all?”

“Oh. Lots of people,” she chuckled, “My parents. My younger brother and sister. I have one each. My grandparents, two of my uncles and their families.”

“That’s grand. Must be fun.”

“It’s a zoo, jungle, I don’t know what! But yes – it’s fun. How about you?”

“I have no family left. I had lost my family to an accident in childhood. I was saved somehow and was brought up by an elderly maternal uncle. He was quit old and died soon after I started working.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It has always been like that for me. I don’t remember life being any other way.”

“But that solves the mystery,” she said playfully.

“What mystery?”

“Why you are not married. There is no one to coax you.”

He laughed at that, but Karishma was able to discern a pain in it. His laughter was not of amusement, but an attempt at hiding something. The mystery was not solved, then.

“I like that explanation,” he said.

“You should get married though,” she persisted despite being unsure about the appropriateness of the topic.

“Why?”

“For one, you’d make a cool Dad. Not wanting chaperoning for your kids.”

“I hope you are not planning on opening a marriage bureau. You’d do a very bad job of convincing people to get married.”

She grinned. But before she could reply, she heard Mou calling her name.

“Karishma. Lunch time. Where are you?”

“Here. Coming.”

Mou followed the voice and came there. She looked embarrassed to find Siddhartha there. “Sir! Good morning, Sir,” she greeted him awkwardly. He nodded in acknowledgement and got up.

“Shall we go for lunch?” he looked at Karishma. She nodded and they walked off.

—

Mou accosted her after lunch.

“What was going on?”

“What?”

“Hum-tum ek kamre mein band ho…” Mou sang meaningfully and whistled.

“Mou!”

“Fine. At least tell me what you talked about.”

“It’s sad, Mou. He is all alone in the world. No family.”

“Hmm… The way you are going, it won’t be the case for long.”

“Excuse me?”

“You seem all set to make him a family.”

“Mou!”

“No. I am not shutting up this time. What are you doing? A fool can see that you are falling in love.”

“Mou. That’s a forbidden territory for me. My family would be… you know very well.”

“I know very well. It is you who seems to have forgotten.”

“I’m in no danger, Mou. Even if I fall for him, I am sure he would not think of it as any more than a school-girlish crush for a teacher. Besides, it isn’t happening. I am not going to let it happened.”

As she wandered around again, she noticed that a group of school children had also come up the hill. Probably it was a picnic day for them too. Their carefree manners and games brought a smile to her face. And then she noticed the one whose company she was trying to avoid after lunch. Siddhartha Sen had joined the group of children and was playing with them. He was laughing and enjoying their tiresome games. She gazed for a minute; then deliberately turned away. She started walking around the hills alone.

—

“This is going to be a storm. Pack up everyone. Quick. Come on. Get in the buses,” Mrs. D’Souza and student volunteers got busy is trying to get everyone in the buses.

“We have to make sure nobody is left behind. Let’s do a count in every bus before leaving,” Siddhartha suggested and everyone agreed. He was unable to locate Karishma anywhere. Where was she? And of course, there could be others missing.

“Four people are missing.”

“Who all?”

“George is not there.”

“Sahil.”

“Karishma is not there, Ma’am,” Siddhartha heard Mou’s voice, “And her cellphone is left behind in her bag.”

“Vikrant is also not there.”

“Can’t reach any of their phones.”

“George, Sahil and Vikrant had gone to fetch the cricket stuff,” someone recalled.

“I will go and check for them,” a student volunteered, “Give me extra umbrellas.”

“Who has last seen Karishma?”

Nobody could recall seeing her after lunch. Siddhartha hoped that someone else would volunteer the information. But when nobody did, he had to speak. “I had seen someone walk northwards. It must have been her.”

The other three students and the one who had gone to look for them were back by then. Some other students volunteered to look for Karishma accompanied by Siddhartha. They looked around quite far and shouted her name. But had no success.

“I think she has wandered too far, Mrs. D’Sourza,” Siddhartha consulted the other faculty guide, a young lecturer in Philosophy department “There is no point keeping all of them here and making them anxious. I will look for her. You take them back on the buses. Send a car form the hotel and…”

“But how can you do it alone, Prof. Sen?”

“Don’t worry. I am trekker. But if we aren’t back by midnight, inform the police.”

“She is trekker too,” Mou said, her teeth chattering, from cold as well as anxiety for her friend.

“Then she would be all right,” he assured Mou in a gentle voice, “Just stuck somewhere because of the storm.”

“Can I stay with you?”

“No. That won’t help. By myself, I can search a much wider area. You go back to the hotel and don’t worry. I will find her.”

The confidence in his voice assured Mou, though he himself was sick with worry. What had possessed her to wander away like that?

—

To be continued

“I am glad that you are using this opportunity, Ms. Gupta” Mou giggled, “Let me try to mimic how he does it.” She tried, but Karishma was not impressed.

“No. No. You don’t say it like him.”

“Aww… How can I? I don’t get to see or hear him up close, do I? Why don’t you try it.”

“Okay here,” she bowed her head a little and then looked up, “I am glad that…” Suddenly she stopped and blushed furiously.

Mou raised her eyebrows.

“Forget it,” Karishma said, “I am no good at mimicking.”

—

They hadn’t begun their weekly project discussion yet, when someone came to see Siddhartha.

“Yes?”

“There is a note from director’s office, Sir.”

“Thanks you.”

Siddhartha opened the envelope. “Our director sometimes refuses to recognize that there are things like e-mails available now,” he sounded amused, not irritated. “Ah! Good job, Ms. Gupta.”

“Sir?”

“Director is happy with the results of projects as an alternative to continuous evaluation. Very few people have opted for it. But they are all doing good work. So, he has appreciated me for the idea. And your project has been mentioned specifically.”

“It was your idea?”

“So was continuous evaluation. So all bouquets and brickbats can be thrown my way.”

She smiled. He wasn’t bad-tempered at all. In fact, he was great at conversations. She wondered about his general moroseness. Why?

“So, what were we to discuss?”

“The novel doesn’t explain the source of Heathcliff’s wealth at all,” she complained. She was going to present Wuthering Heights that week.

“So, your job is to think of the possibilities.”

“Like?”

“The economic structure of the England at that time had started being fluid due to flourishing trade. Mrs. Dean mentions that he looked like he had served as a soldier. He might have joined something like East India Company. That could be one source. Besides given how devoid of any scruples he was, he might even have cheated someone out of money. Probably a woman of some small fortune whom he would have seduced.”

“Hmm… I’d put that in my presentation. By the way, I understand that the characters here are narcissists, selfish… and the entire tone of the novel in dark. It’s about ruthless vengeance. But still, there is one thing I find difficult to digest.”

“What?”

“That Heathcliff should like to torture Catherine’s daughter as a part of his revenge. I can’t imagine a man doing that to the daughter of a woman he loved. ”

Siddhartha looked amused. “Even at its darkest, you do see some romance in love.”

“Don’t you? I mean… if I were to write a novel like that I’d make him a really ruthless man to the rest of the world. But he would kill everyone else, and probably even get her married to his son, only to have her – his lover’s daughter – close to him so that he can give her the fatherly love. And that would redeem him.”

“That would be a fantastic read, I am sure. And more palatable. I agree with your sentiments. I can’t imagine anyone I know who would have tortured the daughter for revenge.”

She grinned as he finally accepted her idea.

“I hope you are getting time to study for your other subjects with this project. There are no weekly tests, but you will have to take exams.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she replied. The new semester was in its fifth week, and with five meetings and other occasional interactions, they had become quite casual with each other. But what vexed her was that he still continued to call her Ms. Gupta.

“Are you coming for the picnic? It’d be fun,” she asked as she gathered her notes to leave.

“I have to. I have the shepherding duty,” he smiled.

She had seen him smile many times now. But it still made her heart skip a beat.

“Shepherding? What on earth does that mean?” she asked ill-concealing her blush.

“Ah! Well. I am the faculty guide ala your jailer ala your shepherd along with Mrs. D’Souza. It is only in India that we would consider it necessary for post-graduate students to be in need of chaperons. You are old enough to choose our government, some of you old enough to govern.”

She laughed, “What can be done? Parents want it.”

“Parents have to be the most senseless creatures in the world.”

“So, you wouldn’t want your kids to be chaperoned?”

His good humor disappeared and his face hardened all of a sudden. Karishma looked at him anxiously. Had she said something inappropriate?

To her relief he smiled. It was evident that it was a forced smile. But it meant that whatever offended him, he wasn’t going to take it out on her. “I suppose not. That would be hypocritical, won’t it? When as a teacher I don’t want the chaperoning duty?”

She smiled as sweetly as she could manage, hoping to placate him with that and came away.

—

“What is his story, Mou?”

“Whose?”

“Professor Sen’s. Why is he not married?”

“Professor Sen. Aha! No more Mr. Perfectionist, eh?” That as a nickname Karishma had given him when on the first day of the class, he had stopped her form attending it, because she was late by few minutes. Her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. She didn’t like missing classes. She had stubbornly sat outside and taken notes. “Mr. Perfectionist cannot stop me from being anywhere else in the world, can he? The classroom might be his fort for that one hour,” she had grumbled.

“Shut up, Mou. He isn’t as bad as he looks from afar. He can actually crack jokes.”

“All right. And that makes you interested in his single status. What’s going on Ms. Gupta?”

“If you don’t want to talk, don’t. Stop teasing me pointlessly.”

“Arr… Okay, okay. Don’t be mad. Thing is, nobody really knows his story. Some people think that because of his bad temper, no girl can withstand him.”

“But his temper is not bad at all.”

“Some even think that he is gay.”

“He is not gay.”

“And how can you be so sure about that?”

“I know.”

“You do?” Mou’s eyes twinkled with mischief again and Karishma pretended to hit her.

Mou guffawed and dropped the topic. “Shall we pack for the picnic? There is an overnight stay. So, we need to carry essentials.”

“Let’s use a single suitcase. If we carry jeans, there won’t be much to pack.”

“Okay.”

—

Siddhartha slumped on the bed after packing his overnighter for the picnic. “So, you wouldn’t want your kids to be chaperoned?” her voice rang in his ears. How was he to know whether or not he would like them chaperoned, when he wasn’t going to have them? And he had desired children so much.

“We will have two of our own and we will adopt two,” he had told Sonali once.

She had rolled her eyes at him. “Why not open an orphanage, then?”

“No. Not orphanage. A home with as many children as possible. I don’t think I will be able to provide for more than four though.”

And she had laughed – her loud, merry laughter that used to mesmerize him. It produced those dimples on her cheeks…

He jerked himself out of the memories. They could bring no peace, no happiness.

—

To be continued

“Hello Ms. Gupta,” Mou grinned at her when they met next.

Karishma gave an exaggerated sigh and pressed her chest dramatically. Mou broke into a giggle. “What happened in the great Professor Sen’s office?”

“He is drop-dead gorgeous, Mou!”

“Ah! So, it took some personal attention from him for you to admit that?”

“Whatever that means. He said something about my assignment. And I blabbered something stupid about continuous evaluation. I bet he was laughing after I left, if those facial muscles are capable of flexing for a laugh.”

“You want to impress him, eh?”

“That would be fun, won’t it?” Karishma grinned.

“Good luck!”

—

Karishma lingered outside his office. This was the third time in the day she was doing it. The last two times she had lost courage and gone back. The same would have happened this time too, except that the door suddenly opened.  She was standing right in front of it at that moment. She startled and jumped back.

“Yes?” Siddhartha asked briskly.

“Prof. Sen… Sir!! Good morning… I mean good evening, Sir.”

He frowned and looked at her quizzically. “You wanted to meet me?” he asked.

“No… Yes Sir. But you were going somewhere. I can come later.”

“Only to the restroom. Why don’t you wait in the office for five minutes?”

“Yes Sir.”

She took a deep breath once inside the office and tried to collect her thoughts. She had spent so many hours trying to gather the courage to knock that she had forgotten the alibi she had in mind for coming there. What was it? Ah, right! The assignment. Anna Karenina as a feminist character.

“Yes. Tell me, Ms. Gupta. What did you want?” he came and sat on his chair.

She had gathered her wits together and spoke with reasonable calmness. “You had made a remark about my assignment. Anna Karenina one. That there was a lot to debate. I was wondering about that. We could probably have that debate… sometime?”

“Sure. Now?”

“Yeah. Why not?” she would be missing her philosophy class, she realized. But she might not have the courage to come back if she left now.

“What is more interesting than you not considering Anna a feminist character is that you consider Karenin one.”

“Yes. I have given reasons for thinking that way.”

“But if Anna, at best, is an accidental feminist, isn’t Karenin one too? When he doesn’t fight a duel or is permissive towards his wife, he is not thinking about her, but himself.”

“Feminism is not only about women’s welfare. It breaks the patriarchal stereotype not just for women, but men too. A man is allowed to be what would derogatorily be called being sissy or being a cuckold. He doesn’t have to be manly the way patriarchy asks him to be. And it is fine. Doesn’t make him a lesser person. Anna doesn’t assert and claim her feminist rights even when given a chance by her husband. He does. Although he doesn’t have the feminist vocabulary to justify his decisions. So, he uses politics, importance of his work and religion for it.”

Siddhartha found it pleasant to listen to her fervent speech. He was no longer as interested in having a debate as in listening to her talk.

“So, you are unforgiving to Anna,” he said suppressing a smile.

“I pity her. I don’t blame her for being what she was, for wanting to live a life she wasn’t granted. But God forbid if I were as weak as she was, if I caused so many people so much misery by my actions. Whatever be the society’s failings and hypocrisies, if I did something like what she did, I’d die much sooner than her. I’d rather fight the hypocrisies bravely than fall a victim of it weakly.”

“You would,” he could not help smiling now.

His smile mesmerized and unnerved her. “I’m… talking too much…” she averted her eyes.

“No. It’s fine. It’s interesting to see that you get so emotionally involved with characters you read about.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled at that, “Mou says I am an idiot to be doing so.”

“Mou?”

“My friend. She sits next to me in the class.”

“Ah! Anyway. I see that you have already missed a class.” She flushed on hearing that. He had known that she was missing a class! “You should not miss another.”

“Yes Sir,” she got up hurried.

“Just a minute, Ms. Gupta,” he stopped her.

“Yes Sir?”

“You were saying something about continuous evaluation the other day? You don’t like it.”

“Uh… Yeah. I know it is supposed to make us study and all. But preparing for tests all the time is not fun. You need time to read, reflect and discuss.”

“Hmm… Okay. You can leave now.”

“Good night, Sir.”

“Good night.”

—

“Choices, indeed!” Mou made a face.

“What happened?” Karishma asked. Mou had been looking at the noticeboard.

“So, apparently the academic senate has come up with a proposal to give us an alternative to continuous evaluation. Instead of tests every week, we could do semester-long projects with presentations every week, under any professor who agrees. So, which is the greater torture according to you, Karishma?”

But Karishma had gotten busy reading the noticeboard and didn’t reply.

“This is interesting,” she said at last, “I should like to go for it over the tests.”

“I’d never do that. But to each his own. Come. We are getting late.”

“Do you remember by when do we have to register if we want to take it up the next semester?” Karishma asked Mou as they walked to the class.

“I think till the end of next month. So, who are you doing it with, Ms. Gupta? With SS?” Mou winked at her. She’d call her ‘Ms. Gupta’ whenever she wanted to tease her about Siddhartha.

Karishma just grinned in reply.

—

“So, what project would you want to do?”

“One idea I had was to create a resource for lay people wanting to read classics. There are several historical and sociological reference that keep people from enjoying them even if they can get past the archaic language.”

“Hmm… Like?”

“Can I use your laptop? I will show you a website which does it for Jane Austen’s work… Here. See. For example it explains why those ladies who didn’t need to work for anything else kept sewing and mending all day. Apparently clothes were not as cheap then. This one here explains how costly the transportation was… Things like these.”

“Interesting. I think this can be taken up. But you will have to do at least one book per week for it to qualify as a valid project. Will you be up for it? It will be time-consuming.”

Ah! The demanding teacher was back. But she wasn’t going to back out now.

“Yes, Prof. Sen. I can do that. At least it saves me from weekly tests.”

“All right, then. Next semester. After the class schedule is announced, we should fix up a one-hour slot ever week to catch up on the progress. Ideally one day before the weekly presentation.”

“Yes Sir.”

“I am glad that you are using this opportunity, Ms. Gupta” he said all of sudden.

“Excuse me?”

“The opportunity of doing a project instead of taking the tests. You disliked that, didn’t you?”

“Yes Sir,” a hesitating smile formed on her lips.

—

To be continued

Anna Karenina as a Feminist Character

Feminism is a collection of movements and ideologies aimed at defining, establishing, and defending equal political, economic, cultural, and social right for women. After reading this definition on Wikipedia, I couldn’t think of a single reason why Anna Karenina should be considered a feminist character, and why it should be such a popular topic of assignments and tests.  If Anna was a feminist, she was an accidental one. A modern reader will not judge her on moral grounds for destroying her loveless marriage. But her capability for rational and sensible thinking is seriously in doubt.  She was fully aware of how precarious her situation was. How could she ever hope to continue seeing her son in that situation? She rejected a divorce in the hope of not breaking that relationship, which even a modern reader can guess was impossible in her circumstances. In the process she rejected even the little feminist choice the circumstances were providing her with. If she were a feminist and sincerely believed herself to have the right to choose, she wouldn’t have been ashamed of herself. At the very least, she should either have had the strength to stay away from society and still be happy, or to not feel tortured at the jeering.

If there is a feminist character in the novel, I would rather say it is Karenin, Anna’s husband. The novel is not generous to him. His act of not going for a duel is considered unmanly. But what can be a more vulgar display of patriarchy than fighting a duel over a woman’s sexual life.  He gives her the freedom to continue seeing her lover, if only external proprietary were maintained, and he wasn’t forced to own up the situation publicly and give divorce. The novel portrays this too as the sin of non-passion. I am inclined to think that he gave her as much freedom and choice, while still shielding her from the harm and ridicule, as the society and laws allowed him. He is the feminist character in whose portrayal the novel doesn’t do enough justice. After all, wouldn’t the male feminists of today be considered sissy in a publicly-acknowledged patriarchal society?

The assignment was much longer and had gone beyond word-limit, but Professor Siddhartha Sen read on without taking his eyes off the notebook even once. By the time he finished, a smile was playing on his lips. A smile, which if it were seen publicly, would have surprised his colleagues as well as students. He was known as a good, but an extremely demanding teacher.  He wasn’t ill-tempered, but he wasn’t amiable either. In particular, he was a strict disciplinarian. He reached his class five minutes before the scheduled time, started the lecture at exactly the scheduled time, and once the lecture started, he wouldn’t allow anyone to enter the class, even if they were late only by a minute or a half. Deadlines for his assignments were similarly strict to the last minute. He collected them from his mailbox right at the deadline and even if others came in while he was still collecting them, they won’t be graded.  Not even a missing comma escaped his attention while grading the tests and not failing his course was enough of an achievement even for the best of the students. And he didn’t smile.

—

Karishma’s eyes widened when she looked at the notebook returned by the teaching assistant. Mou, her best friend, peeped in almost at the same time and shrieked. “OMFG.  Karishma Gupta. Ten on ten. On an English assignment? From SS of all people?”

“Hush Mou. Until I see this on the final grade-sheet, I do not believe it. I think he had intended a zero. By mistake a line has been drawn before it and it looks like ten. This is not expected of Mr. Perfectionist, is it?”

“Oh shut up, you sly creature. If you don’t want me to read you assignment, just say so.”

“Read it, if you wish. It’s not like he is going to give the same assignment again,” she carelessly flung the notebook at Mou, who caught it with some difficulty. Then she coolly reminded her, “But you would do better to rush to the class. He is giving a quiz today, do you remember?”

“Damn this continuous evaluation. And SS takes it to heart. Other professors are not so keen on giving tests every week.”

Another surprise awaited Karishma, once the test was over.

“I will need help in carrying these papers to my room. The TA is absent,” Siddhartha Sen said to nobody in particular after collecting the test papers from students.Then suddenly he looked at her, “Ms. Gupta. Would you mind carrying them?”

Karishma was too nonplussed with his request to take note of everybody’s eyes on her. The question in her mind, and in those eyes was the same, however. ‘Siddhartha Sen knows her by name?’

She got up looking dazed, picked up one stack of test papers and followed him silently to his office.

—

“There… On the right side on the desk,” he told her where to keep the papers. “You assignment was quite interesting.”

“Huh?” she was startled.

“Are you unwell? You look lost.”

“No. No… Thank you. But I am fine. I was just a little preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied?”

“There are more tests today. This continuous evaluation is getting on our nerves.”

“Well… At least, it keeps you all on your toes.”

“Keeps making us prepare for tests all the time. Leaves little time to study.”

“Ah! Students are dying to study otherwise, you mean?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I cannot speak for everyone, but even those who do want to study, cannot.”

“Hmm… Anyway. I was saying that your assignment was interestingly written. Although there is a lot of scope for debate, the originality was commendable.”

Her face flushed despite herself. It was indeed ten on ten then. She wasn’t being bashful in front of Mou. She indeed hadn’t been sure of that, having done the assignment recklessly.

“Thank you, Sir,” she managed to mumble before leaving.

Siddhartha could not suppress a smile seeing her walking away hurriedly as if bitten by something.

—

To be continued