Tag: modern indian love story

The Genius (Part 3)

Posted Mish2 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

At first, he thought that the library was empty. But he decided to look in anyway. In the part designated by his father as the reading corner, she lay motionless. She seemed to have fallen asleep. When he went close to her, he found that the tears had barely dried on her cheeks. She had cried herself to sleep. Her anger earlier had only left him dumbstruck. But this sight tugged hard at his heart. The melancholy that he had briefly witnessed in her countenance earlier now started to engulf him. She was unhappy! That was a possibility he had never entertained. Not because she had a particularly cheerful disposition. But because she seemed to be above petty expressions of joy or distress. A dry acceptance of it was her way of dealing with the world. ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ she seemed to say, ‘But it is what it is.’ They had always had a camaraderie of sort and she told him about people around her. But he didn’t remember her ever complaining. Had he been missing something all through? Or had something drastic happened now? He made to wake her up and ask her, but hesitated. Then almost in a trance, he gently caressed her hair and then left abruptly.

—

Piyali opened her eyes in confusion. Had she been dreaming or was Mukundo there a moment ago? And did he… She ran her fingers through her hair retracing his touch, but felt unsure. She fell back on the chair with a sigh. She had been stupid to yell at him. For something so unreasonable too. He might not even have realized that she was upset. And even if he had, he wasn’t obliged to acknowledge it or to fix it. The amount of time and attention he had given to her all these years should have been more than enough for her. But despite herself, she kept wishing for a little something more. He was friendly. They talked. He understood her. He helped her. That’s all there was to their relationship. A great deal, but not enough. She wanted more. Perhaps she wanted friendship. But that wasn’t possible. Why would he want to have friendship with her? He didn’t lack friends. And she was too much of a freak for anybody to seek her as a friend. Why would Mukundo? He was gracious, so he was kind to her. But asking for anything more would have been a stretch on even his generosity.

—

Mukundo visited her house the next morning, hoping to catch her there and hopefully start a conversation afresh. She had stepped out of the house, but he sat down with her father to have a cup of tea.

“Which job is she finally taking up, Kaku?” he asked her father in the course of small talk.

“I don’t know, Mukundo. You know how difficult it is to figure out what is going on in her mind,” Debendra Banerjee replied. They really struggled with a genius daughter at home. They had never known how to deal with her and it being difficult was an old complaint Debendra had.

Mukundo laughed and responded as ever, “She is alright, Kaku.”

He was still laughing when he turned towards the door to find her standing here. There was an inscrutable expression on her face. Then without a word she made to go to her room.

“Piyali,” Mukundo called her, “I was going for a walk. Would you care to accompany me?”

For a moment, it looked like she would refuse. But then she said, “Okay. I will meet you outside in five minutes.”

—

“I am sorry,” she said before he could begin the conversation.

“What for?”

“For yesterday. I yelled at you. Obviously, I shouldn’t have.”

Mukund wasn’t feeling half as calm as he was pretending. But he was emboldened by the thought that she cared for what he thought. So, he managed to hide his nerves.

“The outburst was a little odd coming from you, but you are not supposed to apologize for it. I apologize that I caused it by not listening to you. Tell me what was troubling you.”

She shook her head, “Nothing. It was an irrational outburst.”

At her outright refusal, the confidence he had worked up disappeared. “I am sorry,” he said, hiding his embarrassment behind a tight smile, “For assuming you needed help. I should have known better. See you later.”

Piyali felt a panic rise within her seeing him leave, “Wait, Mukundo Babu!”

He stopped and looked at her with the most neutral expression he could manage.

She ran up to him, “What did you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“That you should have known better. Known better about what?”

“That you are not a person who needs anybody’s help with anything.”

Piyali flinched, “Why would you say that, Mukundo Babu? Am I arrogant?”

“When did I say anything about being arrogant?”

“What other kind of person doesn’t need anybody’s help with anything?”

“An arrogant person may not take anybody’s help, but they do need help every once in a while. It is a self-sufficient person who doesn’t need help. And that’s what you are.”

“Sounds like a fancy way of saying arrogant. Or difficult, as Baba keeps saying. And you tend to agree.”

That gave Mukundo pause. Was she acting out? Why? He pushed aside all his confused, embarrassed feelings about her and tried to engage with her so that he could get to the bottom of things.

“No. That’s not true. And you know it, don’t you?”

“How am I supposed to know it one way or the other?”

“Because you are not only a Mathematics genius, Piyali. You are also an extremely wise person. You can read people. Including me. And this makes you so unique–” he stopped abruptly. It was as if he had been stumbling through an unfamiliar terrain in darkness and suddenly a lightning had illuminated a path ahead. He took a deep breath before speaking again, “Are you lonely, Piyali?” For someone so unique, that would be an obvious problem, won’t it? Why had he not thought of it before.

Piyali, who had been listening to him with rapt attention, started at the question. If he had slapped her publicly she couldn’t have looked more mortified. Pursing her lips, she replied, “No.” And then she left.

Mukundo cursed himself silently. He was pretty sure he had hit the nail on the head. Except that he shouldn’t have. He should have probed gently. In that sudden moment of the cursed enlightenment, he didn’t think through his words.

—

To be continued

The Genius (Part 2)

Posted Mish3 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

She had put her early ability of reading to full use. She had run out of school books pretty quickly. She was ready to write her tenth exam two years before she actually did. But fudging her age by five years would have been a bit too much; so they had waited. Aurobindo had given her a free hand in the use of their library. In all the spare time that was left to her, she had ravaged the books there. Then she had run out of them and had started requesting specific ones from Aurobindo. The elderly book-loving gentleman – delighted to find a youngster so hungry for books – had fulfilled all her requests. Before long Mukundo was getting her photocopies of journal articles from myriad disciplines from his university library.  Her Ph. D. was in Mathematics, but she could have held forth on her own against the scholars of humanities, history, economics and other disciplines of sciences too. In school, her teacher had been scandalized and had appealed to her guardians to talk to her when in one of the mock exams, in an essay on Gandhi, she had included Ambedkar’s criticism of the Mahatma! ‘She will fail if she writes such nonsense. Please make her understand’ she had beseeched. Aurobindo had spoken to her, “You are not wrong in what you have written, dear child, but your teacher is right in saying that examiners don’t want to read this. For the purpose of examinations, stick to the textbooks, would you?”

She had nodded. Given that she had done well, Mukundo assumed that she hadn’t pulled any such stunts while writing the exams. That’s what was even more astonishing about her than her brilliant mind. That she was also wise – much beyond her years. She had an uncanny understanding of human nature which Mukundo thought was quite unlike the stereotypical mathematical genius of novels and movies. Those people seem to understand nothing beyond the narrow sphere of their talent. Piyali, on the other hand, could read people inside out.

Once there was a mean teacher at her school, who was perhaps aware that his pupil knew more than him, and had been nasty to her. Some cooked up incident of her indiscipline had reached principal’s office. The guardians had been dutifully summoned by the school. Aurobindo, who usually played that role, was out of town. So, Mukundo had accompanied Debendra Banerjee, who by himself, would have been too nervous to meet the principal of the fancy school. The principal, Mukundo was sure, understood the situation, but she was more concerned with not undermining the authority of a teacher than with anything resembling the truth. There was no other choice. Piyali had to apologize and promise not to interrupt the teacher again in the class. Mukundo was furious with himself. He felt like he had failed Piyali by not being able to convince the principal. That evening he had talked to her, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t fix it for you, Piyali. You and I know that you were right. The teacher is no good and–” But Piyali’s reply had left him speechless, “He is insecure, Mukundo Babu. It is understandable. His job depends on his authority. He doesn’t like it being challenged.” A grandma couldn’t have sounded more like a grandma!

With this rare combination of intelligence and wisdom, she was frighteningly self-sufficient. She didn’t need anybody’s help. Not in her studies, obviously. But not even in coping with school, teachers and her friends, or the lack of them. She eschewed praise. She didn’t need anybody’s approval. Sometimes nobody at home would know of her achievements in school until several days later, when they would hear of it from someone else. She didn’t want congratulations and reassurances of how great she was. She was a world unto herself. That’s why Mukundo didn’t tell her a lot of things. She seemed beyond reach. His and anybody else’s. What could he tell her apart from expressing his own awe over her awesomeness? She didn’t need that. And deep down, he was afraid of how she evaluated him. Despite her outward politeness and a tolerance of what must seem to her the brainlessness of other people, her self-sufficiency seemed to make her dismiss other people and their petty concerns. He didn’t want to risk knowing how she felt about him.

Presently, he stirred himself and tried to think about her accusation. “Why don’t you ever take me seriously, Mukundo Babu?” Unbidden, an almost forgotten memory nudged its way back into his mind. Piyali would have been around ten-years old back then. Mohima had brought the girl to him.

“Mukundo! Piyali wants your help with her lessons. Can’t you spare an hour for her now?”

Mukundo had laughed, “I didn’t know this girl has such dark sense of humor! She can help me with my lessons any day, not the other way around. And she knows that. Don’t you, little girl? What are you up to then?”

Piyali had run away at that. Mukundo had assumed she was disappointed because her plan of playing mischief with him had been preempted. Now he wondered. She wasn’t a mischievous sort of child, was she? Had she indeed needed his help? Was she disappointed because he had not taken her seriously?

Today, again, she had come to him and said that she needed his help. And he had laughed. He had laughed from habit. Almost as soon as he had done it, he had realized that she might not be asking for an academic help. But before he could right the situation, she had taken offence, shot him that question and left.

He cursed himself for being such a jerk.

“Where is Piyali?” he asked Debangi. He had run to the outhouse that the family occupied. The outhouse was owned by the Thakurs and was in the same compound at their house, but at some distance.

“I don’t know, Mukundo. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Where can she go?” he panicked.

“Why are you so upset? Where could she be? Most likely in your library. Where else does she ever wish to be?”

He hoped Debangi was right.

—

To be continued

The Genius (Part 1)

Posted Mish10 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“Why don’t you ever take me seriously, Mukundo Babu?” She had started the question angrily, but in the tiny span of time it took her to utter all those words, only a heavy cloud of melancholy remained to envelope her mellifluous voice and large, round eyes.

It wasn’t an extraordinary question. A lot of people could have asked that to Mukundo and it would have made sense to him. But it was Piyali asking that question. Piyali? Piyali wanted him to take her seriously? What for? Why would she care for him? She was —

He was so dumbstruck that Piyali quickly lost hope of any answer from him and turned on her heels. She walked away. Not quickly, rather listlessly. But Mukundo’s feet seemed glued to the ground and it didn’t occur to him to go after her. His mouth also seemed to have forgotten how to make sounds. He didn’t even call her; didn’t ask her to stop.

It was only after he found himself staring at nothing, because Piyali was out of sight, that he came to.

Piyali had always been a precocious child. She was speaking clear and complete sentences by the time she was two. In an extraordinary feat she had started reading both Bengali and English when she was three, to the surprise – almost shock – of the adults around her. They had worried if the child was meeting someone they didn’t know, because nobody around her remembered ever trying to teach her to read. She was too young for that. Children her age had only started going to playschool, that too only if their parents were too busy. But this mousy girl was already reading fluently. Otherwise extraordinarily communicative, she had no clear answer to how she had learned to read. After keeping an eye on her for a few days, everyone had satisfied themselves that there was no dark stranger lurking around meeting her unsupervised; it was only then that they had relaxed, patted her back and congratulated themselves for knowing such a brilliant child.

The moment of realization for Mukundo had come a couple of years later. Piyali was five-years old then, Mukundo seventeen. He was practicing solving some mathematical reasoning questions for the entrance exams he had to write that year. Piyali had come to his room as she often did. She had peered into the questions he was working with.

“Answer for the first one is option D,” she had said in a quiet voice.

Mukundo had grinned. Reading was already an easy task for her. She must have seen his answer in the notebook he was writing in.

“For the second one also D.”

And then she had gone on to give answers to all the ten questions on that page. An increasingly astonished Mukundo had written down her answers after the fifth question, because he hadn’t yet solved those himself. Then he solved those and found that she was right about all of them.

“How on earth—Piyali. Have you seen the answers at the back of the book?”

“No, I haven’t,” she had replied matter-of-factly, already used to occasional accusations like those in school.

“Okay. Let’s see,” Mukundo had taken another book out of his bag. He had bought it that morning only and there was no way Piyali could have read it earlier. He opened a page at random and asked her to solve the first question on that page.

“It’s B. The answer is B.”

Mukundo didn’t have the patience to solve it himself to verify. He looked at the answer key to find that she was right once again. He made her solve twenty more questions at random. Towards the end of the exercise he would no longer be surprised when her answer turned out to be right once again.

Mukundo himself was an intelligent student, he was doing well in his studies and was even a bit vain about it. He wouldn’t miss any opportunity of mocking his cousins who struggled at school. But that teenage-vanity didn’t come in the way of him recognizing that this little friend of his was a genius. Her father Debendra Banerjee was an accomplished gardener who worked in Mukundo’s house. Her mother Debangi had worked as his nanny when he was younger, and now helped around the house, supervising other staff on Mukundo’s mother’s behalf. She was good at her job too. Neither of them, however, could be credited with passing down that extraordinary brain to Piyali.

Mukundo spoke to his mother, Mohima Thakur, “She is a prodigy, Ma. Trust me, this girl is super bright. She could crack this paper right now. Most of my classmates struggle with those questions. I saw her reading Priyendra’s older books today.” Priyendra was Piyali’s elder brother, three-years her senior. “What would she do in those nursery classes. Talk to her teachers. Let them allow her to skip classes.”

She did jump classes, though not fast enough for Mukundo’s estimation of her skills. Still the problem of minimum age for writing class tenth exam sprang up. One could try to get an exemption. But a workaround was deemed suitable by everyone. She was born a year before birth certificates became compulsory. So, her date of birth could easily be manipulated while registering for the exam so long as the school looked the other way. The school did, because it was pretty common for kids to register a date of birth later than their real one. A practice driven by the mindset that put a premium on government jobs, which often had a maximum age limit. If the child was technically younger, he would have more time to land such a coveted job. In Piyali’s case it was used in the other direction. She was shown to be three years older than she really was. So, she finished class tenth at the age of twelve and class twelfth at the age of fourteen. Her undergraduate education, which Mukundo’s father – Aurobindo Thakur – had sponsored, was in one of the best Science institutes of the country. It had flexible policies. She amassed enough credits to get a degree within two years and they allowed her to have it. By her real age of twenty she had a Ph. D. from the same institute. Now she was armed with multiple job offers from a number academic and research institutes and would pick up one of them in next month or so. Mukundo fervently hoped that she would choose to stay in Kolkata, but he hadn’t told her that. Just like he had never told her how much he had missed her when she was away for her higher studies and how he looked forward to her vacations that she spent in Kolkata. He had not told her a lot of things.

—

To be continued

The Long Wait (Part 9)

Posted Mish3 CommentsPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

Meena looked confused to see Rupali at her door.

“It’s odd. I know,” Rupali spoke first, “You don’t know me. You don’t even like me. But Auntie, I was feeling lonely, and I wanted to talk to someone.”

“Come in.”

“Do you want some tea or coffee?” Meena asked despite the awkwardness.

“Do you make boiled tea? Like in India? I am sick of drinking dip tea here.”

That brought smile to the older woman’s face. “Sure,” she said, “I will make some. Sit down.”

They sipped tea in silence for a while. Then Rupali asked, “Why do you dislike me, Auntie?”

Meena flushed at the direct question, but replied, “I don’t dislike you, Rupali. Both my sons have fallen so hard for you. If anything, I think you must be an incredible girl. And lucky.”

“Lucky? I haven’t felt lucky in a long time. And I definitely do not feel lucky to be the cause of a feud between two brothers. But there is something you should know. Just because Dr. Khanna likes me, it doesn’t mean that he has stopped caring for his brother. In fact, when this entire situation came to fore, one of the first things he told me was that he would be happy if I and Aniket got together.”

“He did?”

“It made me mad, but yes – he did. There are a lot of things I would do for him, but Auntie, even he can’t make me love somebody I don’t.”

Meena sighed, “I suppose so. Girls of your generation are not like us. We were so used to listening to people and obeying…”

“You are right. We are not like that. We have a mind of our own. That is not a bad thing, Auntie.”

Meena nodded. “Your love for your children can make you do irrational things. You will not understand that today. But when you and Paritosh have your own children, both of you will understand me.”

Rupali managed to hide how startled she was. Despite her outward resentment Meena had already accepted that Rupali and Paritosh would get together and marry!

After talking for a while longer, when Rupali got up to leave, Meena asked, “You weren’t really lonely, were you?”

“Guilty as charged, Auntie,” Rupali accepted gracefully, “But I did really want to talk to you. And I am glad we talked.”

“Me too.”

“And you know who is really lucky? Not me. I lost my mother and my father doesn’t care about me. Your two sons are lucky. Aniket grew up fatherless, but he had Dr. Khanna to care for him. Like a father. More than a father. And Dr. Khanna had lost his mother. But he had you to care for him. More importantly, to protect him, when he needed the most.”

“What– What do you mean by that?”

“He told me, Auntie. How you protected him from his own father.”

“He told you?” Meena’s looked stupefied, “What did he tell you? That I protected him?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“He never… He doesn’t talk about that. I assumed he didn’t care or didn’t remember those days.”

It was Rupali’s turn to be surprised. She thought for a moment and then said, “The fact that he does not tell anyone else, but told me, tell us how important I am to him. And the fact that he did tell me, tells us how important you are to him. If you ever doubted that, you shouldn’t.”

“Thank you,” Meena spoke through choked throat.

—

Rupali walked into Paritosh’ office when it was time for him to leave, shut the door behind her and sat down across the table from him.

“Well, someone looks happy,” Paritosh said.

“I spoke to Meena ji today.”

“What!” Paritosh’ countenance changed instantly, “Why did you? I had told you, you didn’t need to…” He paused to look at her, then added, “Okay. That triumphant smile tells me it went well. What happened?”

“I found out that she doesn’t hate me.”

“I didn’t think so either. She just wants you to love Aniket.”

“No. She is just acting out, Paritosh.”

“What do you mean acting out? She is not a teenager.”

“No. She is just terrified that you don’t need her.”

Paritosh turned serious now. “What does that mean?”

“Think about her life, Paritosh. Married at a young age to a man far too old to be her husband. I don’t think she ever really connected with him. Aniket was a baby. You were all she had. You brought her here. But this place was alien to her. She accepted your lifestyle and Aniket’s. But she never found a friend here. She talks to her family and relatives back home. But her only meaningful adult relationship is with you. She loves you like a son and needs you like a friend. She must have been feeling that you are drifting away. And she is trying to assert her position in your life. That’s all.”

“Now that you say it, it sounds so obvious. I wonder why I never thought of it like that.”

“Because you always saw her the way you had seen her as a fourteen-year old boy terrified of his violent father. She was the angel of strength who protected you. You never considered that she was a regular woman with her vulnerabilities, weaknesses and needs.”

“Rupali! Have you been fooling the university?”

“Huh?”

“Are you a Computer Scientist? Doesn’t look like it. A a psychiatrist or a therapist. More likely. Or rather a psychic or a hypnotist. Or a magician? How on earth did you manage to solve the biggest puzzle of my life in a few hours?”

“I am none of those, Paritosh. I am just–”

“Rupali!” he became concerned on seeing her turn emotional.

“I am just someone who has been needy for a long time. I just managed to see that need in someone else too.”

Paritosh got up from his chair, came around the table and held her close. Then he kissed her gently and said, “Let’s go home.”

“Not today. Today I want you to go to Meena ji, ask her to cook for you, and not tell her why she is wrong in resenting our relationship. But tell her why I matter to you and why you need her to accept me.”

“Fine, Rupali. I will do all that. But when I come back home after that, I want you there. Will you come?”

“I will.”

– The End –

The Long Wait (Part 8)

Posted Mish3 CommentsPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

She ate ravenously. He had been right in assuming that she hadn’t eaten during the day.

After clearing the dishes Paritosh sat her down and held her hand, “My brother is sixteen years younger to me. Which means, Rupali, more or less, so are you.”

“I am aware of that.”

“You had asked about my faith in our relationship. And I realize now that I shouldn’t have ducked the question. Here is the thing. I have complete faith in our feelings. But relationships are more prosaic than feelings. They may not work for something as silly as someone leaving a wet towel at the wrong place.”

She replied after a pause, “Doesn’t that mean one needs to want a relationship to work for it to work?”

He smiled, “You have ensnared me, Rupali. And with good reason. See, I think about how young you are and worry about your innocence and inexperience because of which a relationship not working is so beyond your imagination. But it doesn’t take you even a moment to come to that very wise conclusion. You are right. But correct me if I am wrong. You never dated anyone ever since you have come here, have you?”

She flushed, “How does that matter?”

“Even though I had asked you not to wait.”

“Even though you had asked me not to wait, you yourself didn’t date anyone from then on. Although I know for sure that you dated other women before that.”

“I have seen enough of the world to know that this is a relationship I want to make work. You closed yourself to that world too soon.”

“That’s such an unfair line of argument.”

“Rupali! Don’t get mad. If I worry about your inexperience and innocence, I also have complete faith in your maturity. So I am not saying that you are wrong in wanting to make it work. I just want you to take a little more time with it. That’s it. Anything I say is not because of my lack of faith. But only because I care.”

“I know. You care. I have taken the time to think about it every single day since I have landed here. It was purely professional, but in that first meeting itself I knew that you cared about my education. And I hadn’t known until then how much I wanted someone to care. I didn’t want to fall for you. I didn’t want to make my life complicated by having feelings for my Ph. D. supervisor. I did everything to keep it under wraps. But I always thought about it. Waiting was not a decision. It was the only option I had. Nobody else could live up to that simple need I had. Of caring.”

He cupped her face and kissed her.

“Then stop worrying. Let things take its course. I am not going anywhere. And even if there are a thousand reasons why it can’t work – including my family, I am committed to making it work. Have that trust.”

“I will.”

“And don’t ever give up on eating and life and me,” he chuckled, “Come to me if anything upsets you. Even if I am the reason you are upset.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

They kissed again and then stayed on the sofa for a long time in each other’s embrace.

“When does your roommate come back?” he asked.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“I should get going then.”

“You could stay,” she replied eagerly.

The invitation took him by surprise and it took him a moment to speak, “I would, happily, Rupali. Except that I am too old to be sneaking around in the morning when you roommate is back. And as you yourself said we aren’t ready to announce it yet.”

Disappointment clouded over her face. “Perhaps we should.”

“We should wait until you degree is official. So, why don’t you come with me instead?”

“To your home?” she mumbled more than asked.

“Yes. Where we have to make things work. Will you come?”

“I will.”

—

Paritosh switched on the porch light and started unlocking the door when Meena appeared on her own porch.

“Paritosh,” she called out.

“Meena ji?”

“Did Aniket–” she stopped short on noticing Rupali. “Never mind. I will talk to you later,” she said and went back inside her house.

Paritosh sighed and opened the door.

“Will you wait for five minutes? I will check on her,” he requested Rupali.

She nodded.

She was sitting on the sofa in the hall when he came back. He took his seat beside her and looked at her cautiously.

“What?” she grew conscious.

“Are you annoyed?”

“That you went to check on Meena ji? No. I am not. Why would you ask that? Is something wrong?”

“No. She just wanted to inform me that Aniket is coming home for a week.”

“Can I ask something personal?”

“You don’t need permission, Rupali.”

“How has your relationship been with her over the years?”

“Cordial, familiar, friendly. She doesn’t necessarily understand my way to life, but she defers to it. I extend her the same courtesy. But we don’t hesitate in speaking our mind before each other. She would get angry if I forgot to bring something from the market that she had asked me to bring. And… I had told her about you.”

“You had? When?”

“Pretty early on. Before my brother got drunk and all hell broke loose.”

“What was her reaction then?”

“She was not happy that I had feelings for a woman I couldn’t pursue. And she wanted me to consider some potential brides all the way back from India.”

“She has been looking for potential brides for you?”

“Like a good Indian mother. Pretty much ever since I have come here.”

Both of them chuckled.

“Why did you never get married, Paritosh?”

“Ah! I don’t know. I suppose it was Aniket’s responsibility. I suppose I never felt free to marry and start a family when I had him to care for.”

Rupali took his hand in her and pressed it. “You are incredible. And I want to tell you this today. Even if nothing else works out – for whatever reasons – wet towels, or your family, or changes in my circumstances — I will always be happy that I met you, knew you and that we had what we have right now.”

He shifted closer and cupped her face, “I may have given that impression when I advised restraint, but know this Rupali. Where you are concerned, I don’t intend to be a martyr. I will do anything and everything to make this work. All you need to do to help me is ignore my family and their tantrums.”

She smiled and leaned in for a hug. He obliged.

“It has been a long day,” he said when they separated, “Do you want to take the guest room or…”

“For all your talks of not wanting to be a martyr,” she replied boldly, “Why don’t you for once tell me what you want.”

“Fair enough!” he chuckled, “Come with me.”

He led her to his bedroom.

—

When Rupali woke up, Paritosh was already dressed up for office.

“What time is it?” she enquired, surprised.

“Eight thirty.”

“Oh!”

“You are well within your right to be completely laid back and relaxed these days. But I have a regular job to do. So, here is the key to the house if you do want to step out at all. Otherwise feel free to laze around. Just don’t go hungry. The kitchen is well-stocked.”

Rupali gazed at him for a long minute, full of amusement and fondness. Then she nodded and smiled mischievously, “Yes Sir!”

Paritosh planted a kiss on her forehead and left.

—

To be continued

The Long Wait (Part 7)

Posted Mish4 CommentsPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

Meena was waiting inside Paritosh’ apartment when they reached there.

“Meena ji? What happened? Is something wrong?”

“I needed to talk to you. Alone.”

Rupali shuffled uncomfortably. “I should go home,” she said.

“No. Just wait… Wait in the study. I will take you there.”

Paritosh took her into his study-cum-office and assured her that there was nothing to worry about.

Paritosh had shut the door behind him. She wouldn’t have overheard the conversation in the hall except that he grew really agitated and loud.

“For God’s sake, Meena ji. You are right. It’s not like arranged marriages back in India. Just because I am dating her it doesn’t mean I am going to marry her. I have no idea where this is going and you want me to be clear about what happens ten or twenty or fifty years down the line. I don’t know and I need some space and time. Please.”

She startled when Paritosh opened the door to the study.

“I want to go home,” she blurted.

“What! Why?”

“Just like that. I’m tired and sleepy. The meal was heavy.”

“Are you upset about Meena ji showing up? Because trust me, Rupali, that is not your problem.”

“No, Dr. Khanna. I am not upset about her showing up.”

Paritosh himself was exhausted after the argument with Meena. So, he gave in.

“Fine. I will drop you.”

“Don’t spoil me,” she gave a tired smile, “I will be fine on my own.”

Her tone brooked no dissent and Paritosh found himself looking on helplessly as she left.

—

Rupali didn’t turn up at his office and it was already time for him to leave. He hadn’t called her, expecting that she would turn up sooner or later. Now he was getting worked up. She was upset last night. He had thought she would come around and tell him what was upsetting her. She hadn’t. Was it non-trivial?

She must have looked through the keyhole, because she didn’t appear surprised to see him when she opened the door.

“Should I come in? Or do you want me to wait in the car until you join me?” he asked, controlling his voice with difficulty. She seemed to have come out of some hell hole. Despite her face being freshly washed it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was still in the clothes she had slept in last night and she had been crying!

In reply, she just stepped aside, indicating that he should come in.

“You are alone?”

Now she had to speak, “My roommate is out of town today.”

Paritosh stopped short on hearing her croaked, hoarse voice.

“To hell with pretenses,” he grumbled and grabbed her by arms. “What’s going on, Rupali? I have never seen you like this. You are scaring the hell out of me.”

The tears that she must have been controlling with all her might immediately came back and she started sobbing.

“Rupali!” He pulled her in an embrace, “What’s wrong? Has something happened.”

Her sobs subsided although the tears continued to hang in her eyes, “No. I don’t know. I am perhaps just being stupid. I am sorry.”

“Be stupid before me, if you have to. But stop crying for God’s sake and stop torturing yourself. About whatever? Why didn’t you call me or come to me if you were so upset?”

“You also didn’t call me.”

“I—I…” Paritosh struggled for a moment, then sighed and replied honestly, “I was dying to see you, but I had work to do. And I thought I shouldn’t disturb you while you are writing your final report or studying for your interviews. I am sorry. I should have checked in with you. Is that what made you so upset?”

She didn’t reply. He held her hand and said, “Let’s go and sit somewhere.”

She walked him to the hall, where they sat down next to each other on the sofa.

“It’s not just about me not calling, is it? You are upset about Meena ji’s unannounced visit last night.”

“I am not upset with her.”

“With me, then?”

“I am not complaining, Paritosh. I think it is great that your family matters to you.”

“And I have told you I will not let them come between us.”

“But you care about Meena ji. You care about Aniket.”

“In case you have not noticed, I care about you too. I care a lot.”

“But if there are a thousand reasons this relationship may not work, it won’t be worth your while to antagonize you family for me. When you aren’t sure where this is going– And I know this is stupid and premature–”

“Rupali. Stop belittling yourself.”

She fell silent and he also stayed silent for a while.

Finally, he spoke, “We need time for this. I am not sure if you have had your meals today. Why don’t you freshen up and meanwhile I will order something to eat and make us some coffee? You have a coffee machine in the kitchen?”

She nodded.

“Great. And until then, Rupali, stop worrying. Because here is the thing. I am not going anywhere.” He planted a kiss on her cheek, then made her stand up and go to the bathroom. He ordered some food and went into the kitchen to make coffee.

—

To be continued

The Long Wait (Part 6)

Posted Mish6 CommentsPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

They ran into Meena at the gate of his house.

“Meena ji?”

“Paritosh. My washing machine was not working. So I have put some clothes in yours.”

“Oh – okay.” He looked at Rupali, then back at Meena, catching the curiosity in Meena’s eyes and apprehension in Rupali’s. Then decided to make an introduction, “Meena ji. This is Rupali. You know about her.”

Meena’s face blanched. Aniket had shown her Rupali’s photos long back, but her hairstyle was different now and she had forgotten her face. Sudden appearance of this girl by Paritosh’ side stupefied her. She nodded and walked off to her house.

Paritosh and Rupali looked at each other confused, then he led her inside.

She looked around and then smiled, “This place looks so different when people aren’t around.”

“Good or bad?”

“Just different.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy, of course, that I can be here without other people being around.”

“Me too,” Paritosh nodded and motioned her to sit, “And while I had never thought about what we would do to celebrate the day you could be here with just me, I did have something marked out for celebrating your successful thesis defense. Give me a minute.”

He went to the kitchen and came back holding a wine bottle and two glasses.

“Vintage?” Rupali checked the bottle

“Ummhmm….”

“And old. It must be expensive?”

“That’s why it has been saved for a celebration.”

“Dr. Khanna!”

“What?”

“I appreciate it, really. But I don’t know anything about wines except that I end up ordering them over beer.”

For the first time in the day Paritosh realized how young she was. And how inexperienced compared to him despite her maturity. Would anything meaningful come out of it? Or had their unacknowledged loyalty to each other for so many years only been a result of attraction for forbidden fruit?

“So, this is not your idea of celebration?” he asked.

“That’s not what I mean. I am saying this precious bottle will be wasted on a newbie like me.”

His spirits lifted. “That is not a problem,” he declared, “There is always a first time for everything. And what better day to try something new than the day a new chapter of your life begins?”

He poured the wine, they clinked their glasses and took the first sip.

“How is it?”

“I have no clue what subtle taste, aftertaste or texture I am supposed to be looking for. But I am pretty sure that this is the best drink of my life.”

“To the first time,” he toasted.

“To the first time.”

And after that they discussed nothing other than her thesis defense, felt too tired to go for dinner, ordered pizza and then Paritosh dropped her home despite her protests that he didn’t need to.

—

Meena was inconsolable and Paritosh out of his wits. She could not get over the idea that Rupali had come between two brothers. How could Paritosh bring her home like nothing had ever happened?

“She did not come between the brothers. For God’s sake, Meena ji. She never loved Aniket. How is that her fault?”

“She is no good for this family. Aniket moved away because of her.”

After an hour of arguing, Paritosh left, defeated. He was baffled. He had never imagined that his decisions will be questioned by Meena. And despite the awkward history with Rupali, he had not imagined that she would continue to hold that two-year old grudge against Rupali.

“Can we go to your place?” he asked Rupali the next day. He didn’t want to risk running into Meena again with Rupali.

“My roommate is there.”

“You have a room to yourself, don’t you?”

She blushed and chuckled, “Yes. But she would be in the house. And she is a student at the university. I am not sure we are ready to announce ourselves in that circle yet.”

“You are right.”

“What’s wrong with your house?”

“Nothing. Just thought we could have a change of place.”

“Meena ji was not happy to see me.”

He sighed and shrugged acknowledging her accurate observation.

“Why? She doesn’t think I am good for you?”

“She thinks weirder things than that. Don’t bother about her. I will handle it.”

“If you are bothered, then so am I. You can be honest with me. I am not going to take offense.”

He cocked his head and smiled fondly. Then he leaned forward, “You know as a teacher I tend to let students solve problems on their own. But men have fantasies of protecting their women. Will I ever get to protect you from something?”

She flushed and appeared speechless for a moment. The sudden romantic turn in the conversation had caught her by surprise. But she recovered in a few moments and replied, “You already are protecting me. From loneliness, despair. But my fantasies don’t involve me looking away when you are dealing with a problem.”

“Fair enough,” his smile widened, “I will tell you.”

He explained to her in brief what had transpired between him and his step-mother last night. She looked thoughtful.

“Rupali. There might be a thousand reasons why our relationship may not work out. But I won’t let my family be one, I promise.”

“What thousand reasons?” she asked, surprised.

It was Paritosh’ turn to be taken by surprise. It took him a moment to gather himself before he jokingly replied, “You can’t think of any, can you?”

She grew embarrassed, “I was being stupid, of course. You were not being literal.”

“No. I wasn’t,” he looked at her curiously.

She squirmed under his gaze and asked, “Did I freak you out?”

He shook his head, “No Rupali. What you surprised question told me was that you have a faith in us. That’s not a reason to freak out.”

Her tone was cautious, “You don’t have that faith?”

“One would think we are discussing Christianity here,” he laughed, “Come on. How about we go and get dinner at a nice place and then head to my home?”

Through the dinner they mostly discussed about the companies she was applying to. She wasn’t planning on an academic career.

“Most of my dream companies are in this area itself. So, I hope I can get in one of them.”

“Unless you walk into the interviews stoned, I am sure you will.”

“That sounds like overconfidence, Dr. Khanna.”

“It’s not. But I thought we were done with Dr. Khanna, Dr. Banerjee.”

“I don’t have my degree yet. I am not Dr. Banerjee.”

“Don’t change the topic, Rupali. I do have a name, you know, which the entire world uses to address me. Except you. That needs to change.”

“It’s the habit.”

“A habit you voluntarily broke yesterday. That’s how it should remain.”

“Fine!”

“Fine what?”

“Fine. Paritosh!”

“Better.”

—

To be continued

The Long Wait (Part 5)

Posted Mish2 CommentsPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

2 years later…

Paritosh stood near the window, looking out, the door of his office wide open. Rupali knocked and stepped in, without waiting for his permission. He turned and smiled at her, then stood at his place with his hands in his jacket pocket and his shoulder hunched over. The way he usually stood when he was trying to come up with a way to explain a complicated concept.

At last, he sighed, relaxed and looked back at her. “That went well,” he said.

She smiled back, hesitant, “You think so?”

“I do,” he said and then added after a pause, “Dr. Banerjee.”

At that moment, she didn’t know her place in the world. Even physically, she felt like she was hanging between the floor and the roof, not knowing whether she was supposed to ascend towards the sky from there, or descend to feel the solid earth beneath her feet.

They had not spoken about it for over two years. They had spoken about Computer Science, her research, their friends, eating preferences, even their families and their relationship with their parents. But they hadn’t spoken about themselves. About this tension between them. The need to be close and far at the same time. The meetings always at public places. Hundreds of potential phone calls and face to face meetings converted to online chats and emails, for the fear of snapping something fragile that kept their lives stable.

Then he walked towards her as she stood rooted, her palms sweaty and her throat dry. He reached around her and shut the door before asking – straight and flat – flat in voice, but his inner turbulence betrayed by those smoldering eyes, “Are you seeing someone?”

“No.” The clarity of her voice surprised her. She had expected a choked hissing sound to come out of her throat. But she was loud and clear. And she was thankful for it.

In a weird gesture, he pressed his palms against the back of her head. In the very next moment, she realized why. He had pushed her against the door, almost violently. But for his hand cushioning it, her head would have been hurt. It wasn’t, but his hand… His action was speedier than her thoughts though and before an image of the situation had completely formed in her head, his lips were pressing against hers. His tongue hungrily devoured her mouth next and moments later she coughed from lack of breath. He withdrew as swiftly as he had commenced and looked lost for a moment before gathering his wits and stepping back to give her some space.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. She looked up at him. The fierce passion from moments before had been replaced by taut lines on his face. He was tense again. With concern.

She shook her head to dispel his worries, although she had indeed been uncomfortably out of breath moments ago.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I got carried away.”

“What wasn’t?”

“You were supposed to enjoy it, not get suffocated,” he smiled, but in a contrite way.

“But I enjoyed it,” she retorted. She had! Perhaps not in the way Paritosh had meant her to. Not in the way that had left her panting with desire. But she had enjoyed this long-awaited affirmation of being wanted by him.

He shook his head with a knowing smile.

“I did,” she reaffirmed, then grabbed his hand, looked him straight in the eyes and added, “Paritosh.” Fulfilling her side of the bargain with that one word.

Paritosh drew a sharp breath and closed his eyes. Her finally addressing him by his name had the same profound impact on him that her earlier ‘No’ to seeing someone else had had. But instead of an uncontrolled passion, this time he was gripped by warmth and security. He put his arms around her and drew her in a gentle embrace. She snuggled up to him happily.

“What shall we do now?” he said, languorously.

“I don’t know. Live, I suppose?”

He chuckled.

“Yes. Live,” she said, “You have punished me long enough.”

“Punished you? Why would you say so?”

“When was the last time I was allowed alone in this office with you?”

“Allowed? I wasn’t allowing myself to mess up with our lives. My punishment, if that’s how you want to think of it, was not for you. I was punishing myself.”

“I am in a generous mood right now. So, I will admit that argument.”

Paritosh laughed, “Thank you, Your Honor.”

Then he kissed her again. This time he was slow and mindful for her pleasure.

“What should we do now? Shall I ask you out for a coffee?” he grinned as he held her close.

“I think I am done with coffee shops for a long time now.”

“Would you…” he hesitated for a moment, then finally asked, “Would you like to come home?”

She buried her face in his chest and replied, “Happily.”

—

To be continued

The Long Wait (Part 4)

Posted Mish9 CommentsPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

Dear Rupali,

I don’t know if you will ever read this. Perhaps some day. Perhaps never. But in case you do. I want you to know that when you told me about your relationship with your father, I had wanted to say more than just “I am sorry”. I had wanted to say that you will never again be uncared for. Whatever happens, I will always care for you. I had also wanted to tell you that I will care for you despite knowing that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. I also wanted to tell you how proud I am of you.

I couldn’t say all this. And a lot more. You know why.

Perhaps you still understand everything I don’t say.

Perhaps you don’t.

Perhaps someday I will find out.

Perhaps never.

Right now, this letter, like all others, will take its place in my locked drawer.

Love
Paritosh.

—

“Aniket! I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?” Paritosh motioned his brother and Meena inside his house.

“I will make some tea,” Meena walked to Paritosh’ kitchen with confident familiarity and Aniket sat down on sofa. For a long moment, he didn’t utter a word. Since their confrontation in Paritosh’ office, the brothers had not talked much. Paritosh pretended that nothing was the matter, but Aniket wasn’t as obliging. Paritosh was about to conclude it will be another one of those fruitless meetings, when Aniket finally spoke.

“I want to speak to Rupali.”

“Okay,” Paritosh replied with studied casualness, “When you want to speak to someone you call them.”

“I can’t.”

“The last I remember,” Paritosh added cautiously, “You were the one who had stopped taking her call. So just call her now.”

“She is the one who is not taking my calls now.”

Paritosh sighed. “In that case, it is obvious, that she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“That’s why I am here. You can get her to talk to me.”

“How can I get her to do something like that?”

“She works for you.”

“Of course. And that’s why I have no business dictating who she should or shouldn’t talk to outside of work.”

“And it is your business to fall in her love with a woman half your age.”

“That has got nothing to do with you.”

“Has it not?”

“Aniket. There is nothing between her and me. There can’t be. She works for me. It is unacceptable at the university. Don’t you understand?”

“I don’t think so. I think something has been going on between you two since even before she set her foot here. Come to think of it. She was my friend. How come I didn’t even know that she was applying to your university, and specifically corresponding with you to be her supervisor?”

“Have you considered,” Paritosh no longer felt like he was talking to his baby brother, but rather an adversary; his tone became caustic and harsh, “That the reason could be the same that you have yourself told me a thousand times? That you were least interested in her Ph. D. applications and were struggling with your backlogs while she was diligently applying for the Ph. D. programs, writing Statements of Purpose, getting recommendations, and was also helping you with stay afloat through the last semester of the college?”

“Paritosh!” Meena had come back with tea, “Why are you talking to him like that? Weren’t you the one who had always warned me against making an issue out of his academic performance?”

“Well – you know what? He is no longer a vulnerable adolescent. He needs to grow up.”

“You can help him, Paritosh.”

“Meena ji. He is not asking for a fancy car, or a permission to go to a college I know would be too difficult for him, or an expensive toy. No, I can’t help him.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“It might have just worked out in India. But in this country, if the two of you follow her against her wishes, you will be in trouble for stalking. So, for God’s sake, take my advice. Leave that girl alone.”

Then he stood up to leave, “I have some work to do. I am going to my office. Please remember to lock the door when you leave.”

He called Rupali up from his car, “Have you finished reading those papers?”

“No Dr. Khanna. I need another day–”

“Never mind. Meet me with your notes on whatever you have finished reading. I will be at the coffee shop in fifteen minutes.”

—

When Aniket announced that he was taking up a job on the East Coast and was planning to leave, Paritosh told Rupali about it.

“Is his mother going with him?” she asked.

“I won’t trust him with another person’s responsibility.”

“It is so sweet of you to take care of her. To take care of them both.”

He thought for a bit, trying to decide whether he wanted her to know. Then he spoke, “She had taken care of me when I needed it. I can never forget that.”

Paritosh’ father was violent man. His mother died when he was fourteen. Perhaps succumbing to the injuries from domestic violence. With nobody to manage his father’s temper and drinking, Paritosh lived in constant fear of being beaten up; fear that was realized far too often. He would have run away from home and lived the life of vagabond had the old man not decided to remarry and bring a much younger bride home. Meena was barely ten-years older than Paritosh. He could never bring himself to call her mother and hence always addressed her as “Meena ji”. Whenever it felt like his father was about to lose temper, she would find a way to take her husband to their room. She would keep Paritosh away from them at such times and he never quite figured out if she also took the beatings like his own mother or if she had a way of calming him down. But he did know that she protected him in those crucial years when his life could have been destroyed forever.

Two years later, Paritosh left for college, Aniket was born and his father died. The drinking had consumed him. After Paritosh finished his degree, he came to the US for Ph. D. and brought Aniket and Meena with him. His father had left considerable family property for them. Over time he sold them all, brought all the investments to the US and bought two adjacent houses – one he stayed in, the other was for Meena and Aniket.

“I knew I wasn’t going back to India. The memories of my father would haunt me,” he told Rupali.

“Neither of us has a happy father story. But yours is too horrible.”

“It’s over. It has been a long time.”

“Thank God for that.”

—

To be continued

The Long Wait (Part 3)

Posted Mish2 CommentsPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

Paritosh couldn’t sleep. She wanted to wait for him. How tempting the idea was! He had asked her not to do so.

But perhaps she still would.

What he now knew for sure was that he was going to wait for her. Till today, he hadn’t known if she would reciprocate his feelings. Sure, he had noticed her appreciative glances every now and then. But that fleeting crush on a Ph. D. supervisor – an authority figure, whom you looked up to – was quite common. It usually subsided with time. Over the years he had developed an immunity to such glances. Those came and went away, he didn’t even notice them. Those didn’t mean that a student had really strong feelings for him or loved him. So, he hadn’t assumed that Rupali’s admiration meant anything either. It was not humanly possible to be happy about assuming so. Heart trumps brains when it comes to things like love and happiness. But he was definitely relieved. Because acting on those feelings was out of the question. So, it was better she didn’t have them. That helped him keep a lid of his own emotions too.

But now that check had disappeared. Thanks to a rash act by his brother. Now he knew that she was struggling with the same emotions as he. And her emotions were strong enough that she had blurted them out in front of his brother. Strong enough that she wanted to wait.

What will it be like two or three years down the line? Will they survive the tension between them? Will she still feel the same towards him by then? What if his brother was still in love with Rupali then and resented their relationships?

He had no answers to these questions. What he did know – he turned in the bed and thought again with a smile playing on his lips – was that he was going to wait for her.

To ensure that they didn’t slip up and make a mistake before their moment came, he will have to make some rules. He sat up, grabbed a notebook and scribbled something down.

—

Rupali realized that not only had Paritosh reduced the frequency of their meetings, but when they did meet, he would always come up with some excuse to meet in a public place instead of his office. He was punishing her, she concluded. She would put up with it, she decided. She was, after all, responsible for taking them both to the brink of a career suicide.

The consolation was that after a few days, when she had started playing along with his punishments, herself proposing to meet at the campus coffee shop, or one the open quads while requesting meetings, and making sure that she wasn’t the first one to reach for a group meeting or get-togethers, their conversations went back to normal. Even though it was at a public place, they would still spend hours discussing the latest papers either of them had read, or figuring out her research plan.

One day, about two months later, she felt bold enough to enquire. “Is everything fine at your home? Are Aniket and his mother okay?”

“Why yes – Rupali. You don’t have to bother about them.”

“I don’t have to. I just want to. Just normal human curiosity, you know!”

Her annoyance showed and Paritosh mellowed.

“Of course. Don’t be angry, Rupali. I just– I sometimes worry that you might get entangled in things and lose your way. But I am reminded as often that you know your way around the world and I needn’t act like a guardian to you. Not that I make a good guardian,” he chuckled here, “Look at how messed up Aniket has turned out.”

“Aniket doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you. Most fathers can’t care for their children the way you care for him.”

“One could say I have spoiled him.”

“He is fine. He will find his way, in time.”

“You talk like you are his grandmother’s age or something. You are the same age. And you know what you want from life. He mostly doesn’t even know what he wants the next hour.”

“I didn’t have a choice. I had to know what I wanted from life. Else nobody was going to give it me.”

Due to complications during her birth, Rupali’s mother had to have her uterus removed. She could not bear any more children and Rupali’s father wanted nothing more than a boy. Her mother died when she was ten. Her father didn’t remarry, which was surprising considering how badly he had wanted a boy. He wasn’t in the least bothered about bringing up of her daughter.  After her mother died, some relatives from the extended family took care of her for a while, but soon enough she was taking care of not just herself, but also the entire house. The good thing about her father’s indifference was that he never objected to whatever she wanted to do. She when she prepared for her engineering entrance exams, got admitted into the Computer Science program of one of the best colleges in India, and after that decided to go to the US for her Ph. D., her father did not stand in her way. He didn’t drop her to the college hostel on her first day as the other parents did. He didn’t even come for the convocation when she was awarded a degree as well as many other prizes. But he didn’t mind when she needed money for anything.

Now, with her fellowship, she didn’t even need money. So, she was practically living on her own.

—

To be continued