Mish' Fiction

“Is Kaki fine?” she dropped by his office a couple of days later. Although he had kept his promise of visiting her at home, she still came by once in a while.

She almost knew the answer by the looks of him. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark circles around them. As if he hadn’t been sleeping well.

“I don’t know,” he said, then added after a pause, “Perhaps not. There is a biopsy scheduled for tomorrow.”

“Biopsy?” she asked, alarmed.

“They suspect… stomach cancer. At her age it won’t be easy.”

She had never seen him so dejected before. She held his hands and took him out on the terrace.

“I feel like such a moron, Karishma,” he spoke with an urgency. He must have been dying to talk to someone, “I should have taken her stomach troubles and heartburns more seriously. But she kept saying it was nothing, just old age, and I kept believing it. Only when it became difficult for her to eat did we go to the doctor. And now…”

“We don’t know yet that it is too late. Let the biopsy results come. They can manage cancer till quite advanced state these days. I’m sure it will be all right.”

He smiled, weakly, and said, “Yeah. Perhaps. I’m sorry. I’m the one boring you with sob stories now…”

“Prof. Sen. These are not sob stories. In fact, I would hate you if you didn’t tell me. Will you call me after the biopsy results are out tomorrow? Please?”

He sighed, “Okay. I will.”

—

A letter had come from the accountant and Karishma was going to her father-in-law to hand it over to him. But she stopped short at the door when she heard him discussing Siddhartha with his wife.

“Siddhartha called. He needed some money,” Mr. Jain said.

“What for?”

“Don’t you know? Jhilmil has been diagnosed with cancer.”

“Oh! That. Yes. How much?”

“Well. His expenses will be endless. Whatever we could give, he said.”

“How will he ever return it?”

“I don’t know. But I can’t just say no.”

“Why not? Haven’t we already done enough for them? And what is the point in sinking money in the treatment of such an old woman? For how long will she live anyway?”

“Oh, for God’s sake. I hope you don’t expect your own sons to reason like that should something happen to you. Anyway, you leave this to me. I will figure out what to do.”

To ensure that she was not caught eavesdropping, she knocked when she heard her mother-in-law’s footsteps approaching the door. She handed the letter and left without a word.

—

She came in without knocking and he didn’t notice because he was busy on phone.

“Yes… So can I get a loan against it? Right… yes… A personal loan I guess…”

She waited until his call was over. He jumped in surprise on seeing her in front of him.

“Karishma. When did you come?”

“Just now.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. Please sit.”

“I’m so disappointed with you.”

“What for?”

“You didn’t think it important to tell me that you needed money for Kaki’s treatment.”

“But… It’s okay, Karishma. My savings will last for a few months. And I am making arrangements for more–”

“Before going ahead and taking loans against whatever you have, how about tapping some friends?” She held out a checkbook for him.

He took it uncertainly and asked, “What is it?”

“My checkbook. All the leaves are signed. I will keep you updated on how much cash the account has.”

“Oh my God!” he sprang out of his chair, “Karishma, I can’t–”

“You don’t remember what I had told you, do you?”

He looked at her blankly.

“That I will never have much for you. But perhaps some money….”

“Karishma–”

“You are ready to borrow from my father-in-law, perhaps even from my Uncle. So why not me?”

“They would know what they are doing. They won’t hand me blank signed checkbooks. And you, Karishma – you may need your money someday. If anything goes wrong–”

“Won’t you give me shelter, if something goes wrong?”

“Karishma!”

“As you yourself predicted, I might need it someday.”

“What are you–”

“Don’t cast me aside, Siddhartha,” she grew tearful and didn’t realize that she had used his first name. He did and gulped hard on hearing that. She continued, “Please promise me that you won’t borrow until I can’t help you any longer. Please!”

How stubborn and difficult could she get! Was she going to throw away everything she had because he had bought her a plastic bracelet all those years ago.

“It was a twenty-rupees plastic bracelet, Karishma. It isn’t worth throwing away your small fortune.”

“My mother-in-law thinks that your mother is an old woman already. It isn’t worth spending money trying to cure her cancer. Do you agree?”

“What the–”

“Exactly. You know better than to put price-tag on everything, don’t you? Please? Prof. Sen?”

He stayed silent for a long time, staring at the checkbook in his hand. Then he dropped it on his table and came around to face her.

“If I try to refuse any longer,” he said, “It will be an insult to you, to us, and to your generosity and capacity to love. I will use it. I will have to. And I will try to use it responsibly. You also promise to tell me accurately what your financial situation is like so that I can decide how far I can go. Will you promise me that?”

She nodded.

“And there is something else. Just a while back you had called me Siddhartha.”

Her eyes widened. “I had?” she flushed, “Sorry – I didn’t–”

“Will you, in future, continue to call me that? If we are friends, isn’t it high time that we got the formality of Prof. Sen out of the way?”

She gulped. “I don’t know. I am so used to it. I will try.”

“Please do,” he smiled. For the first time that day she saw a genuine smile on his face. She reciprocated automatically with a smile of her own.

—

To be continued

“Ah! There is our Professor Sahab!” Vikram exclaimed when Siddhartha walked up the stage with his mother to meet him and Karishma for their reception. Siddhartha’s mother was supposed to be there for their wedding as Vikram was her old employer and benefactor’s son. But she had not been feeling well and hence had to contend with coming for reception.

“Congratulations Vikram, Karishma,” Siddhartha wished them formally and introduced his mother to Karishma.

Karishma, bent down to touch the old woman’s feet despite her protests. “Such a humble child. God bless you,” Mrs. Sen crooned.

“Your son’s find, Jhilmil Kaki,” Vikram grinned and then turned to Karishma, “I hear that all the kids in your household have Siddhartha to thank for passing their school exams. Did you also study under him?”

“Not for the school tuitions,” she replied without flinching, “But the university Maths.”

“Ah, right! How could I forget. You are a Maths student. That’s why my father wanted you in the family. Somebody has to be able to do the accounts right. And Siddhartha Babu here, the son my father always wanted but could not have, wouldn’t agree to be the family accountant.”

“That’s enough, Vikram,” Siddhartha said more harshly than he intended, although because Vikram was much younger to him, he didn’t hesitate in giving him a piece of mind once in a while. He was a carefree fellow who didn’t mind much. “You sound drunk.”

“Drunk on happiness, my friend. Now! When are you getting hitched? Kaki, why don’t you do something?”

“He is stubborn as a mule,” his mother replied, “I can’t throw a girl at him, can I?”

“I and Karishma will launch a joint venture now, Kaki. Don’t worry. What do you say, Karishma?”

“You should get married. I’m sure you will make some woman very happy,” Karishma addressed Siddhartha directly.

Siddhartha searched her face for a moment to see if there was any reproach or complain in her words. He could find none. She was sincere. He sighed and then plastered a smile on his face, “Let’s get through with one wedding first.”

—

“Karishma! Come in. How are you?”

She walked into his office, smiling, unlike the last time.

“You don’t visit here as often as you used to visit back home.”

“There are no kids to be tutored by me there. What brings you here?”

“You? I came to see you.”

His smile disappeared, “And you are again meeting a friend at the university, I suppose? Not me?”

She grinned, bashfully, but didn’t look contrite.

“You shouldn’t do that, Karishma,” he said gravely, “This isn’t right. You have a–”

“You don’t trust me to behave myself,” she interrupted, growing stiff and frowning.

“Be fair in your assignment of probability. Consider the possibility that I don’t trust myself. But–” he had blurted something he shouldn’t have and needed to change the topic,” It seems you are still angry with me. What is going on? How are things with Vikram? How is he?”

“He think Mathematics is all about doing the sums like in accounting book. Other than that he is fine, I guess,” she smiled, but it looked like a grimace. “I should leave,” she added immediately and made to stand up.

“No, wait! Karishma, please. I am sorry. I can’t seem to do things right by you ever. But the fact is, I am really happy to see you. Thank you for coming. Please stay a while.”

She didn’t look cheered up, but obliged him and kept her seat.

“Would you like to go out and get a coffee or something?” he asked, hoping the break the ice.

“We shouldn’t go out. Someone might see us.”

He nodded, “You stay here. I will get some from the staff room machine.”

She opened her mouth as if to protest, but then closed it without speaking. When he came back with the coffee he found her hunched over the table with her head buried in her hands.

“What is it, Karishma?” He was seriously worried now.

“Nothing,” she looked up, “Good you got coffee. I had a slight headache.” She took the cup from him eagerly.

“I think I am getting bored,” she said after a while.

“Why?”

“There is only so much housekeeping you can do. There isn’t much else to do. Vikram is also often away on business trips.”

“Perhaps you should consider joining the master’s program from the next term.”

“I asked. But they don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“And why not?”

She sighed. “They expect me to have a baby, and hence more responsibility, soon.”

Siddhartha did not know how to respond to that. He held his cup in both hands and came around to his seat.

“Karishma. What is it?”

She grinned now, “Nothing, really. I shouldn’t bore you with my silly sob stories. What about you? What have you been up to?”

So he told her some stories about work and from there they got into some academic and some political discussion. It was like their car rides back home. After about an hour, Karishma got up to leave.

“I really should leave now,” she said, “Thank you, for humoring me.”

“Don’t talk like that, Karishma. Please.”

“Drop by sometime, will you?”

“I will.”

—

Siddhartha ran into Karishma and her mother-in-law on his way out of the hospital.  He had brought his mother for some tests.

“Karishma, Auntie? What happened? Who is unwell?”

“Just a routine checkup,” Karishma replied hastily, “What about you? Kaki? Are you unwell?”

“She has been feeling weak lately. We have just given the blood samples for some test.”

“Hope it isn’t anything serious.”

“Hope not.”

They took each other’s leave, but after a few steps, Siddhartha looked back and found Karishma looking back at the same time. He thought she looked anxious. She thought the same about him!

—

To be continued

“Come in,” he said automatically, when he heard the knock, expecting it to be student. So looking up and finding her in the doorway startled him. “Karishma?” He stood up and went around his table as she walked in gingerly. “What happened? What brings you here?”

“Are you free for a while? I needed to talk to you.”

“Of course. Please sit,” he motioned to a chair, but she shook her head and looked at back door of his office. His office was in one of the oldest building of the university, and had its downsides with old plumbing and wirings, peeling plasters and water leaks. But one advantage was that it was spacious and had an attached balcony, almost as big as a terrace. It was a favorite spot with her. When she had to wait for him to wrap up his work before dropping her home, she preferred to be out there with a book than wait in his office. “I find the insides stifling,” she would say.

Presently he nodded and led her out on to the terrace. They stood in silence for a while gazing at the overcast monsoon sky.

At last she spoke, “I’m sorry about Saturday–”

“I’m sorry,” he interjected, “I had no idea Uncle hadn’t told you. But…” He hesitated and took a deep breath before continuing, “It’s little late, Karishma. Are you set against the idea of marrying Vikram?”

They were standing side by side, and weren’t looking at each-other. Their eyes were still fixed on the horizon in front of them.

“I’m not aware of anything objectionable against him. So, I guess not. I am not set against it. Anyway what does it matter?”

He turned towards her and in an uncharacteristic gesture held her. “I’m sorry, Karishma. I really am. If there is anything I can do–”

“I didn’t come here to hear you apologize, Prof. Sen. I came to say thank you.”

He stepped back, his brows furrowed, “What for?”

She fished around in her purse and took out two objects that made his eyes go wide.

“Thank you for the kindness you have always shown me. At times I might not even have known, but at others, I have.”

In one hand she was holding the old doll he had rescued from Aaradhya on their first meeting. In the other a blue plastic bracelet.

His stared fixedly at the bracelet, suddenly finding his throat parched. “You knew?” he croaked.

“This doll,” Karishma talked about the other object instead, “Was tattered ever since I got it because it was with my parents on their last fatal ride. They had gone to attend a wedding and I was at home because my exams were going on. To compensate for that, Papa had promised to bring me a gift. This was that gift. They never came back from that ride, this doll did. Just like this. Their last gift for me. Since you helped me get it back from Aru Jiji I always kept it hidden to safeguard it. And this-” She came to the bracelet then, “Is the only real gift I have received after the doll. Right now they are buying loads of gifts for me in preparation for the wedding. Apparently I am rescuing the family and the business with this wedding. Everyone is obliged. But I will never forget that you had remembered a friendless girl when nobody cared for her.”

Siddhartha did not try to stop his eyes from getting moist. “It was nothing, Karishma,” he replied in a heavy, throaty voice, “I never thought… I never found you wearing it. I assumed you didn’t get it or no longer wanted it.”

“It was too precious to risk wearing.”

It hadn’t costed him even twenty rupees. Even with his limited means in those days he hadn’t thought twice before buying that little piece of plastic.

“The Jains are really looking forward to this wedding, Karishma,” he said, “You will be the eldest daughter-in-law. You will have responsibilities and people will look up to you. You will not be friendless again.”

She looked at him as if she didn’t hear him at all and asked, “Did you ever think of me? Would you have married me if your obligation to the two families wasn’t in the way?”

“Karishma!”

“I need to hear. One way or the other,” her voice shook and she averted her eyes, but she still stood her ground.

“You must know this. My debts are not yours to pay. What I can or cannot do about you has nothing to do with my obligations.”

“Then?”

“God! Karishma, don’t you understand? Nothing works in my favor. I am the most unsuitable person you could think of. I am too old for you. I could be your father you know–”

“I don’t think my mother will appreciate the insinuation,” she replied, slightly bitterly.

“Joke about it if you want, but I don’t belong to your community and while what I have today feels luxurious to me, I am still too poor to ask for your hand from your family.”

“Poor,” she snorted, “How much did it cost?” she lifted the bracelet to him.

He stood before her, tongue-tied. His face, contorted with pain and guilt, struck her and she grew contrite.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m firing away at you as if you promised me something and then betrayed me. That wasn’t my intention. It just… I did really just come to say thank you. You have been a good friend to me. And I will never forget that.”

“I hope to be your friend even in future, Karishma. If you can put up with it.”

“Remember to visit me sometimes then. And I will never have much for you. But I will have money, I have been assured. Eldest daughter-in-law and all. If this ‘poverty’ of yours ever really becomes troublesome… Oh what am I saying… But will you kiss me once?”

If he was surprised by that, he didn’t show it. He cupped her face and bent forward. Then planted a kiss on her forehead.

“I am not going to. Because I really want you to start your new life on a hopeful note. I want you to be happy. And if you felt you were dishonest at the beginning of a new relationship, you will not be happy.”

They went back to his office silently.

“How did you come?” he asked.

“Car. The driver is waiting. I should leave now.”

“Wait. There was something I had to bring to you anyway. Perhaps you can take it right away. Vikram’s mother had asked me to pick these up for you from the jewelers. Her gift.” He handed her a velvet jewel box. She opened it to find two heavy gold kangans inside. She turned the open box towards him and said, “I’m afraid you will have to make the trip home. This is for everyone else to see. My gift–” she lifted the plastic bracelet to him once again, “I am taking with me.”

He stood motionless as she walked away. At the door, she turned, “Also, I have come out on the pretext of meeting a friend at the university. Nobody knows I am meeting you.”

And then she was gone.

Siddhartha closed the lid of the jewel box and slipped it back in his drawer. Then he slumped back on his chair. What had just happened? It was madness and he should have known better.

—

To be continued

Siddhartha jerked back to reality when his mobile rang. It was his mother who was waiting for him to take her to the temple. He assured her that he would be back in time and then drove to his home.

—

Karishma stared at a blue plastic bracelet through her tears. She must have been fifteen or sixteen years old at that time. Kanishk had been given the responsibility of taking the girls to the market for their knick-knack shopping and he had pulled Siddhartha along. “I need some company. I will be bored out of my mind while this giggling bunch shops for the most useless things in the world,” he had said.

The money was with the older girls. Karishma had spotted this bracelet when Aaradhya was getting the billing done.

“Jiji!” she had run up to her just as she was paying for the purchases, “Could I have this–”

But she was interrupted by Aruna, Aaradhya’s younger sister, barging in dragging Aaradhya out to see something exciting she had spotted in another shop. Karishma could have tried calling them back, but she had never stopped feeling like an outsider. So she did not. She had kept the bracelet back on the shelves.

The next day she had seen Siddhartha sneaking out of her room. She had gone in to find that bracelet on her study table. She hadn’t confronted him about it. He, obviously, hadn’t wanted her to know. Else he wouldn’t have entered her room.  Clutching the bracelet to her heart, she had cried for hours.

The bracelet was too small for her wrists now. Even back then she had never worn it. It had felt too precious to be worn and risk damaging. She had kept it like a souvenir.

She had only watched him from afar in those years before university. After refusing to take tuitions from him, she had never gathered the courage to strike a conversation with him. Despite him supporting her, she was worried that he might have taken offence. Besides, she was a shy creature and striking conversations or making friends was not her strong point.

The one good thing about not having spoken to him back then was that she had been spared the necessity of addressing him in any way. Else she might have had to call him ‘Bhaiya’ as her cousins did. Even at that young age she knew that her feelings towards him were not sisterly in any way. Not that she expected any fruition of her real feelings.

Talking to him at the university had made it easier. She could just address him as Prof. Sen or Sir and he didn’t ask her otherwise. She had been elated to discover in him an approachable man of gentle manners and great empathy. He didn’t show her pity, but great care. He didn’t talk down to her, but was happy to mentor her.

Her cousins had opted for Arts. As the only one among them who was studying Science with a major in Maths, her college schedule differed from theirs. So Siddhartha would often drop her home and they would talk about everything under the sun on these drives. Everything, but he never asked about her tattered doll, or the blue bracelet, or her refusal to take tuitions, or her parents. She was partly grateful, and partly disappointed. It kept things comfortable, but it also meant that he was avoiding any intimacy beyond a point.

He was the only person she could call a friend despite not having spoken to him throughout her adolescent years. Because she had felt connected to him on account of those little, subtle moments of kindness he had shown to her.

But she was also convinced that he didn’t see anything more in her than a friendless, orphaned girl who should be treated with kindness. So she didn’t harbor any hopes about him. At least not until she started hearing murmurs about her family planning her wedding and him visiting her uncle to talk about it.

How was it possible to for such huge dreams to be built and shattered in a matter of weeks?

—

Siddhartha paced in his room. He had earlier dropped his mother to the temple for a day-long program and was now alone in his house. His mind was in a whirlwind. Karishma hadn’t yet been told who they were planning to get her married to? Nobody in her family thought it necessary? Even after the talks had almost been finalized? And she, perhaps, doesn’t want to marry Vikram and blames him for the debacle? How was he to know her family will act so callously?

But perhaps, he paused, he should have known. She hadn’t lacked for the material comforts while staying with her mother’s family. But she had been friendless, ignored and bullied. He knew it. When Mr. Jain put the task to him, of mediating this relationship, he should have asked her first.

And now it was too late. Not only because the wedding was almost finalized. But also because there was more than a wedding involved here. Guptas were going through some financial difficulties and needed a partner to tide over until things turned around. Jains had agreed to step in and this wedding would seal that deal. If she backed out of it now, it will put the family in trouble in more ways than one.

Even as he prepared himself to talk to her and make her understand all this, a corner of his heart burned with guilt. He was doing wrong by her. The guilt was made worse by how she had phrased her question. “With someone else?” she had asked. Could she have seen through his despairing longing and desire for her? And if she had, didn’t she realize the impossibility of it?

—

To be continued

“Prof. Sen!”

Siddhartha had just stepped out of Guptas’ residence and was surprised that Karishma should choose to stop him there on the pavement.

“Karishma? What happened?” Her usually smiling face was contorted with distress. She appeared to be holding back her tears with difficulty.

“You have been arranging for my wedding? With someone else?”

Someone else? “You mean Vikram?”

“You have been arranging this?”

He brows furrowed. Had she realized only now? It had been three weeks since he had been mediating between the Jains and Guptas. Vikram’s father, Aditya Nath Jain, had been in the US with his wife and hence had been unable to carry out the conversations himself. Vikram himself was on Europe tour with his friends. Both were expected back in Kolkata shortly, though.

“You didn’t know?” he asked.

“You thought I did?” He saw a flash of anger in her eyes, but she immediately looked away. “Right. Sorry,” she mumbled and turned on her heels.

He stood frozen to his place his worried eyes following her until she disappeared inside the gate.

Could her ‘someone else’ really mean what he was now thinking? Was she expecting him to…

Siddhartha kept looking back until he reached his car which he had parked on the side street. Even after climbing in the car he didn’t start driving for a long time. He recalled the first time he had come to Guptas’ house with Kanishk and Samrat, his friends at the university. He was doing his masters then. It had taken him some time to get a hang of relationships in the huge, joint family. But on the very first day he had seen the then thirteen year-old Karishma. following and begging Aaradhya, one of the older girls in the family, for her doll. The older girl didn’t seem interested in the doll itself, but only in teasing Karishma.

“Aru Jiji, please. Please give me the doll back.”

“It’s such a tattered doll. Why are you so obsessed with it?”

After watching them for a while, and seeing Karishma close to tears, Siddhartha had been unable to hold back. His friends had gone in to change their clothes and he had been sitting by himself in the hall. “What is a tattered doll to you?” he had told the older girl, “Why don’t you give it back to her if she wants it?”

Aaradhya was surprised to a see a stranger and a guest intervening. More from shock than understanding she had shrugged, tossed the doll at Karishma and left. Karishma had clutched the doll tight and had eyed him curiously, but had left without saying anything.

“Oh, this is a madhouse,” Kanishk had told him later, when he had told him about the incident, feeling that he needed to confess his intervention, “You don’t want to fix quarrels in this house, whether of the children or of the adults. But I think it was good you helped Karishma. Poor child is having a tough time adjusting here.”

“Who is she?”

She was the only child of one of Kanishk’s aunts – his father’s sister. Her parents had died in a car accident a few months back. In the ensuing family politics her lot was thrown with her mother’s family rather than her father’s.

“They didn’t live with my uncle’s family. There was some quarrel going on. Karishma is not used to staying with so many people. She is shy and gets bullied.”

Siddhartha had sighed! He knew something about getting bullied, even if he was not shy. His father had died when his mother was pregnant with him. She didn’t get any support from either her own or her husband’s family. The Jain family, also a huge, joint business family like Guptas, had given her shelter and work. His upbringing and education had been sponsored by them. A maid’s son studying with them and going to their school did not sit well with some of the older kids. They had outgrown it by the time he had first witnessed Karishma’s predicament, but his childhood had been rough on him.

As a college student he had started giving tuitions to school-children to start earning some money and ease his mother’s burden. He had managed to get a scholarship and his tuition fee was waived. But there were still other expenses and he wanted to lessen his dependence on the Jains’ charity as far as possible.

That was why he was visiting Guptas that day. Kanishk had asked him to meet his father as many kids in the household could use a good Maths tutor. It might as well be him who they knew to be a brilliant student of Mathematics.

It was ten years ago. Since then he had taught several children in the house, many who lived there, and many others who were either relatives or neighbors to the Guptas. They all usually gathered in that house so that he didn’t have to visit all of them separately. Over the years he had become such a permanent fixture in that house that he was almost a part of the family.

Karishma had refused to take tuitions though. “I can study on my own,” she had declared.

“But you will be going to class eighth now, Karishma. Things can become difficult,” Kanishk’s father, Mr. Gupta, had tried to reason with her.

“Papa used to say that tuitions are not needed.”

“Let her be, Uncle,” Siddhartha had taken her side, “I myself never took tuitions. If she thinks she doesn’t need it, I don’t think you should force her.”

“’Papa used to say’ is anyway the end of any argument with her,” Mr. Gupta had sighed and left it at that.

She did become his student eventually though. But it was at the university. He had taken up a job there as an assistant professor by the time she had joined the university. And she had chosen to study Maths which was his department. It was in the last three years of university that she had started opening up to him. Siddhartha had immediately realized that she was more intelligent and level-headed than the average child growing in that household. Perhaps an early loss or hardship made you wise and hard-working. He still continued to give tuitions to those kids who wanted it in that house, although he did not need to do so for money now. And tutoring college students was a better bet for getting some extra income outside of his salary. But he was grateful for all the money that came to him from them when he needed it the most.

—

To be continued