Mish' Fiction

When he came to her room in the evening, she made haste, and tried to lock the door from inside. But her hands were trembling, and try as she might; she was unable to bolt it. Mukundo went behind her, held her hand and helped her with the task. She was not in the least bit embarrassed. She immediately turned back and hugged him, as tight as she could manage with one hand. He reciprocated and soon felt her tears wetting his kurta.

“Hey!” He pulled back slightly to look at her face. “What happened? Everything is all right now, right?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Because of my uncertainties, you had to talk about things that you didn’t want to talk about.”

“It’s not like that, Piyali. I should have told you. You deserve to know everything about me. Just that… So much was already going on. I didn’t have the heart to dig up these ghosts of past.”

“Yes. I understand.”

He smiled, “Yes, you do. You understand me like nobody can. In future, don’t listen to others, even if it is your mother, and don’t run away like that. Talk to me, if you have an issue, okay?”

She nodded.

“And you must know that I would have told you someday, sooner rather than later. So, don’t mistrust me about that.”

She nodded again, like an obedient child.

“And since it is the time of confessions, there is one more. Hopefully it isn’t a big deal. Piyali – I haven’t been completely… I have had relationships. But never anything serious. It was always with the understanding that it can’t lead to anything. So, if you do come across someone sometime, don’t worry, all right?”

She blushed hard at that. There was something curious and amusing about her blushing. She had told to him about her sleeping with Ahwaan before wedding without as much as sign of embarrassment.  And at his confessions she was blushing like a school-girl. But there was something endearing about it too. Then she wasn’t talking to a lover, or about love. Then it was clinical – just a description of what had happened. Now, she was enjoying being a girl in love, listening to her lover’s confessions and blushing. Everything will be all right from now on. He embraced her again and protectively stroked her head.

He was surprised to feel her breath growing quicker and her tip of nose nudging against his chest.

“Piyali,” he whispered. She looked up at him with soft, moist eyes. Her lips were parted, practically screaming to him to take her.

“If I want you, you would want me, right?” she said. That was rather bold from someone giving that school-girlish blush just a while back. But this also showed that she was now confident about their relationship.

“Very much,” he replied, strongly aware of his increasing heart beats. “But somebody might come…”

“Nobody’s home. Ma is at the temple, With Shanta, and Promila Kaki. Everybody else is in servant’s quarters.”

“I’m not carrying protection…”

“I am safe…”

“So, you have decided to make me sin tonight,” he said as he brushed his lips against her neck. She moaned softly.

He wondered if they should wait until wedding. But quickly concluded that he couldn’t. The divorce will take time, and Ahwaan may even create troubles. If he didn’t have to wait, what was wrong today? If anything, it was perfect because today she wanted it. And nothing is life gave him more pleasure than doing what she wanted. Especially when what she wanted was to be loved by him.

He led her to the bed and held her close sitting on the edge. “I should be saying that I have imagined this moment so many times. But the fact is, Piyali, that I haven’t. I was too scared. I felt that if I as much as dreamt of it, you would know and would vanish from my life forever.”

“But I have dreamt of it,” she interrupted surprising him, “A thousand times since my adolescence. I have dreamt of it so often that I thought its reality can only be absurd.”

“I hope that’s not the case.”

“Not at all.”

“Tell me if you are uncomfortable,” he said as he laid her down and started kissing her all over. She could not help thinking that even in their best days, Ahwaan was never this solicitous of her comfort and pleasure. A few days back, Mukundo had surprised her by expressing just how passionately he felt for her. But here in the bed, he was just the same gentle, caring Mukundo Babu she had always imagined. And the way even her weak and sick body was responding to him, she knew that she could get used to it.

—

She woke up and stretched herself. Then she recalled what had happened. She looked around. He wasn’t here. After they were done, she had drifted off to sleep in his arms. But right now, she was fully clothed and tucked in. She looked at the clock. 9 ‘o clock. At night? Ma would have come back long ago. Good thing he didn’t stay in with her. But how come… He must have put her clothes back on. She blushed hard thinking of it. And then felt stupid. She hadn’t felt shy while practically begging him to take her to bed. And now she was blushing at the thought of… ‘I am a silly girl,’ she told herself, not uncharitably, rather feeling extremely happy.

She got out of her bed and went to the hall. The dinner was being served. “Pihu. You are up finally? How soundly you were sleeping. Mukundo has been waiting for so long. We were about to have dinner. Come join us…”

Her mother was still blabbering when she sat beside her. Her eyes met Mukundo’s. She noticed a knowing smile in them, and she blushed despite herself. Her mother, thankfully, either did not notice or did not think much of it. They had dinner. For most part the conversation was kept up by Debangi, who told them about various people she met at the temple.

Piyali was hardly listening. She was thinking about her situation. Her love, her life, her happiness had been right in front of her eyes all these years. But she had failed to recognize it. It took a disastrous marriage, a slit wrist and a dysfunctional hand for her to recognize and get it. Wouldn’t it have been nice, if it hadn’t been so hard? But probably it was for good. If she had gotten it too easily, she might not have valued it as much as she valued it now. She looked up at Mukundo. He was replying to something Debangi was saying. Her heart overflowed with such love for him that she almost felt like hugging and kissing him right there. But her mother’s presence restrained her. She looked at her mother and tried to make sense of the conversation, failing utterly at it.

“Mukundo. You were waiting for Pihu to wake up. What for?” Debangi said after they were done with the dinner.

He smiled and went to Piyali, “I was wondering, if you would…” he took out a jewelry box from his pocked, “accept it?” He opened it to reveal a ring.

Her eyes moistened and she felt like she would end up crying. She controlled herself with some effort. He didn’t realize it, but she had recognized the ring. Although Mukundo had avoided being around when she and Ahwaan were doing any wedding shopping together, while buying the ring for her, he had ended up being with them, probably because no car other than his was available for them.  Piyali had seen him eying this ring. When he was away, she had shown it to Ahwaan. But he had rejected it immediately thinking it was too plain. Piyali had not been able to insist after that, though she had really wanted to buy it. Today, her wish was fulfilled. Just then the cruel reality hit her. She made to lift her left hand, but… Mukundo didn’t miss noticing that. Before any signs of mortification could appear on her face, he quickly lifted her right hand and slipped the ring on it. She could not hold back now. She started sobbing and leaned on him, not bothering that her mother was watching them. Mukundo hesitated and looked at Debangi, but only saw a smile on her lips and tears is her eyes. There was no sign of disapproval. Relaxed, he put his hand around Piyali and comforted her.

She stepped back after a while looking embarrassed, but smiling. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“By the way,” he said jocularly to lighten to mood, “Kaki tells me that you haven’t slept as well in several days. What did you do today? You should do it more often.”

She blushed at that rolling his eyes at him.

“I mean whatever you ate must be good,” he added with a grin; then he gestured to her to touch Debangi’s feet for her blessing. They went to her together and bent down. But she stopped them midway and hugged them together. “May God bless you both,” she said, “I am so happy today!”

– The End –

Debangi wasn’t surprised to see that Mukundo had brought Piyali back, when she was sent a message that Mukundo wanted to her to come over to his house. They were sitting in his bedroom, silently, both lost in their own thoughts.

“Kaki!” Mukundo stood up deferentially, when Debangi entered and apologized, “I am sorry for giving you the trouble. I should have come over, but there was something I wanted to show you.”

Piyali looked at him startled. What was he going to show to his mother? Not that chamber, she hoped. It was romantic, but would be extremely awkward to show to her mother.

Debangi looked as uncomfortable as the two of them. She had been non-committal when Mukundo had spoken to her. She had just said that she would talk to Piyali. She had also said that she didn’t intend to do it immediately, because she really wanted her to recover first. Mukundo had agreed to her. But when she had gone into her daughter’s room just to sit with her for a while, she had gotten a glimpse of the portrait she was making. It had made her unsure about postponing the talk. If she got too emotionally involved… And she had ended up speaking to her quite unprepared. She wondered if Mukundo would question her on her haste.

She was relieved when he didn’t get into that. But the conversation was not quite comfortable even otherwise.

“Kaki. You have apprehensions about us,” he shot a brief look at Piyali, who was sitting with her eyes downcast and her hand on her lap. “Why didn’t you tell me? What makes you think that Piyali won’t be happy…”

“It’s not her that I am worried about, Mukundo. But you. I am not that selfish about my daughter that I’d forget how you have been more than a son to me…”

“Worried about me, because I have rejected ‘better’ woman?” he interrupted remembering what Piyali had said. That must have come from Debangi.

“Well – yes…”

“Kaki. Have you wondered why I rejected all of them?”

Even Piyali looked up at this. But neither she, nor Debangi replied.

Mukundo continued, “I don’t like to talk about this, Kaki. I have never told anyone. Not even you or Piyali. But today…”

Mukundo was about fourteen-years old, when he had accidentally discovered the dark truth about his ostensibly upright father.  He had another family. A wife, children. Three of them. Mukundo was the only child from his mother. He had also realized, to his utter astonishment, that his mother knew. But she continued to pretend that everything was all right with her family life. That was more comfortable than confront a truth which could have no pleasant resolution.

His mother might have reconciled herself to a loveless, but outwardly perfect, family life, but at that tender age, Mukundo could not come to terms with it. He was devastated at the idea that his father was not true to them. Unable to talk to anyone at home, and not knowing how to deal with his emotions, he had ended up finding solace in the wrong kind of company.  It had started with drinking and smoking. Then but one hot summer day, he was going to try drugs, when five-year-old Piyali had run into him.

“Where are you going?”

“To my friends.”

“I am bored. Take me with you.”

“You can’t go there.”

“Why not?”

He had tried his best to divert her attention, but something had come upon her that day. She just wouldn’t let Mukundo leave without her. She cried, threw tantrums, and physically clung to him. Debangi remembered the incident. She had also tried to make Piyali understand. But nothing had worked that day. She had to have Mukundo Babu to play with her that day.

“She had saved me that day, Kaki,” Mukundo said presently, “And had given me a purpose. Not only did I not try drugs on that day, but I was also forced to think. Ma’s stoicism had made me believe that there were no real connections in the world. People didn’t expect anything from each other. There was no point of affections, of relationships. It was all just a farce. But that day I saw how much trust Piyali put in me. If someday she realized what kind of a wasted person I was on the way of becoming, how broken would she feel. For her sake, I resolved on being right and not wasting my life. She became my anchor in life. Her well-being became my only purpose. And I rejected all those ‘better woman’, Kaki, because my life was devoted to her. And irrespective of where she went with her life, I knew that I will not be true to any other woman I married. I didn’t want to be what Baba was. And if you don’t believe she has this effect on me, see this.” He opened a cupboard and they found it filled with empty whiskey bottles. “This is what those six months – when she away after her wedding – had done to me.  More than this actually. I emptied it from time to time, when no one was watching. Didn’t want anyone to know and worry.”

Debangi and Piyali stared at him in astonishment. “I know what other question you have in mind,” he continued, “If that was so, why didn’t I say anything earlier? Why did I let her get married, even defended her choice before you?  But somewhere in your heart you know the answer, Kaki. I stayed silent because it was an awkward proposition. She is much younger to me, and I have known her since her childhood. In your heart you know that your objection was not only because you thought it was not a good match, but also because it sounded weird. You had not expected this. I didn’t want to say something and lose her forever. So – yes. That’s why it took a misfortune to hit her for me to open my mouth.”

Piyali noticed that he didn’t blame her and her rejection at all. He didn’t want her to feel even an iota of guilt.

There wasn’t much left for Debangi to say after this. She was shocked to hear about his father though. “Aurbindo Da! It is so difficult to believe, Mukundo.”

“I know. But I am not defaming my father for the heck of it.”

“No… No… Of course not.” She was obviously disturbed. How impossible it was to know people, even when they were so close to you. Who could have thought that Aurbindo Thakur had a secret life? Who could be blamed for not understanding Ahwaan? But she was sure that she understood Mukundo. And she would go with his decision. That has to be right for both him and her daughter. If there was any social awkwardness, she would figure out how to deal with it.

“Go home, Piyali. I need to go to the university for a while. I will come in the evening.”

She was unwilling to go away from him just then. But she was too shy to say so. And if he had work to do…

—

To be continued

She looked at the watch. It was barely noon time. He would be in the university at least until six. Exams were going on. He was busy. She went to his house and ran straight to the chamber. He had given her a key. She stood in the middle of the room and looked all around. All those beautiful portraits. But the girl she had seen in the mirror was not the one in these pictures. Neither physically, nor emotionally. She was damaged at both places. Ma was right. He had rejected many better girls. This won’t do… won’t do at all…

She broke down sobbing. After a while, she managed to lock the door and go to a bathroom without being noticed by his house staff. She washed her face and stayed there, until her face looked normal.

“Ma. I want to go to Baadi,” she told her mother after coming back. They referred to their native village as  Baadi.

“You do? Why?” Debangi was surprised. Piyali had never liked visiting the place. She found staying in the village too inconvenient.

“I need to get away for a while, Ma. I am getting restless here. I will stay there until my job starts.”

“But Pihu…” her mother hesitated.

“What happened, Ma?. Send Shanta with me. I will have no troubles. She will take care of things there.”

“That’s fine, Shona. But you know… people are too nosy there. Instead of feeling better, you might…”

“I will stay inside, Ma. I am not going to meet anybody.” The house and gardens were very big there. If human company was not essential, one would not need to go out.

Debangi sympathized with her need to get away. She sent up a silent prayer to Goddess Durga to grant her daughter some peace of mind. If this is what it took, then so be it. “Fine. When do you want to go?”

“Right away.”

“Right away?”

“Yes. Its barely two hand a half hours by car. I will reach before sunset. I will ask Shanta to pack. Will you call the driver?”

“Fine.”

—

Mukundo was nonplussed to hear of Piyali’s departure. She didn’t tell him, didn’t call him, didn’t even leave him a note. What was going on?

“Has something happened, Kaki?”

“No Mukundo. She just wanted a break. I thought it would do her good.”

But he was restless. She was alone again. What if… He shuddered to think of it. Debangi looked calm enough. Still, he could not be at peace. Talking to her even on phone was not possible. Mobile networks didn’t work in the village. The only mode of communication was local phone booth. He thought he would call there, but Debangi stopped him.

“She doesn’t want to meet people, Mukundo. You know how nosy they can get. If you call on the phone booth, everyone will know.”

He had to give up on the idea. Due to exams in the university, he could not get leave for at least three more days.

—

Piyali had done nothing other than eating, sleeping and working on his portrait since she had come to her village house.  She wasn’t thinking about anything. Not even about him, even while working on the portrait. In just a few months, her simple life had become terribly complex. And she wanted to run away from it.

Her easel was placed in the large verandah of the house. She was trying to get those eyebrows correct, and was struggling with it, when she heard a creak on the main door. Who could have come? Did Shanta go around talking to the neighbors? Did the driver get the vegetables from the village market instead of going to the main road, as she had instructed him? But when she saw the visitor, she forgot to breathe. All that she didn’t want to think about came rushing back to her. She felt a strange sense of relief as well as annoyance.

Mukundo had come prepared to demand answers from her. How could she just run away without as much as informing him? What was she thinking? But when he saw her awestruck, lovely face, he forgot all about that. He ran to her and drew her in an embrace. Then he tried to kiss her, but she avoided it.

“I am sorry,” he let her go with an embarrassed grin. He assumed that she was afraid of someone being around, “I got carried away.”

She smiled weakly. Having gotten over his initial elation, he also remembered his grouse, “I am mad at you, Piyali What were you thinking? How could you just come away… Kaki won’t let me call up at the phone booth… And I couldn’t come after you because of exams… And you didn’t even leave a message…”

She looked at him as if not aware of him talking at all. The eyebrows. Ah, right! They were shapely, soft – almost like a woman’s. How had she not noticed them earlier? He might know everything about her. She didn’t know anything about him. What kind of a wife would she make him? And she looked at him from head to toe. How many times had she heard the women, young and old alike, talking in the neighborhood about how handsome he was and how difficult it would be to find a wife for him who would be as beautiful? And she remembered how awful she had looked in the mirror. Sickly, pale, handicapped… What kind of wife would she make him?

“Piyali!” he shook her this time, frowning.

“You must be tired, Mukundo Babu. Did you drive yourself? Would you have something to eat? Some tea… I will ask Shanta…” she made to go away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“What is going on? I have not come here for food or tea. You are coming back with me.”

“I will stay here, Mukundo Babu.”

“Why? You hate this place. And how will you stay here? No electricity, no generators…”

“Mukundo Babu. It wasn’t your fault,” she said suddenly.

“What? What wasn’t my fault?”

“What happened to me… My wedding or my depression and suicide attempt…”

“So?”

“Let me stay away from you, Mukundo Babu. If you see me all the time, it must cloud your mind and your decisions get affected. ”

“What is wrong with you, Piyali? What are you thinking? I had bared my heart to you. Do you not believe that I really, genuinely love you?”

“I believe that, Mukundo Babu. But Ma is also right. You have rejected better women in past. I am a bad choice for you…”

“Ma? Kaki has said something? What?”

She gulped and stayed silent.

“But she wasn’t supposed to… Pack your stuff, Piyali. We are going now. Or rather let Shanta pack it up and come back with your driver tomorrow. Come with me right now.”

“But…”

“Are you not going to listen to me, at all? Are you going to make be beg you?”

There was nothing she could do after that except to follow him silently. “Do you need to eat or take medicines?” he asked before leaving.

She shook her head. She had just finished her lunch and had her medicine.

—

To be continued

Finally he tore his eyes away from the painting and looked at her. He held her by her shoulders and said, “You are so silent. Say something.”

She needed to collect all her strength and willpower to speak after hearing what she had heard. “There was so much going on… All these years… And you never said anything to me, Mukundo Babu. Why?”

“Yes… I don’t know,” he looked lost, “May be because there was so much to say… Or may be because there was so much at stake… I just couldn’t imagine losing your affection, Piyali. And you are so much younger. I din’t know… And really… I do love your in many ways… Oh – I can talk so much. But aren’t you tired? You should sit…”

“No,” she interrupted resolutely, “I am not tired. Please do talk, Mukundo Babu. Tell me everything. I didn’t even know something as simple as this that you go for camping and trekking. Why did you never come with me?”

“You never invited me,” he teased her to lighten up the conversation a little, which had grown very overwhelming for both of them.

But she flushed with embarrassment on hearing that.

“I was joking,” he clarified.

“But it wasn’t a joke,” she smiled weakly and then grew thoughtful. She was searching for passion. And she couldn’t have imagined that Mukundo Babu – the quintessential professor of Philosophy, brooding over such things that she thought were beyond her, worrying about  her safety, treating her with care and gentleness all the time – that Mukundo Babu could harbor such passion for her. How deceptive appearances were!

“Piyali…” She came out of her thoughts on hearing him and looked at him with moist eyes. He had said that he understood every expression of hers. But she wasn’t sure that her face could even express everything she was feeling just then. Love and gratitude were most prominent, of course. But she was also embarrassed, and apologetic, and hopeful and a lot more that she didn’t even understand!

“Don’t ask me to say anything, Mukundo Babu. I understand all you say. But I don’t know how to articulate myself like you. Someday, may be, in my simple ways, I will be able to talk sensibly. But today, nothing I say could possibly make sense… ”

“You don’t need to say anything then. But could you answer one question for me… In yes or no. And I will be at peace either ways. So, you don’t…”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t asked the question yet.”

“Yes. Want me, Mukundo Babu. Take me, if you will,” she said and leaned on him. He put his arms around her, gently at first, but soon it became a bone-crushing hug.

“Let’s go back,” he said grinning happily, “I really have to grade those assignment. And I think those whom I grade now would be the happier lot.”

She blushed hard and chuckled; then asked, “Can I come back to this room?” She had noticed the portraits from her childhood. She was almost sure to find herself in cradle in one of them.

“Who else is this for?”

When they reached her home, she asked him to wait before starting on his work. He watched curiously, as she opened her cupboard and brought out a poster-sized paper – folded in four.

“I was trying to make a portrait of Ahwaan soon after… But after sketching, I had to stop and hide it away,” she explained as she unfolded it.

There was no mistaking it. She had ended up sketching his face. Mukundo gazed at it for a long while, and overcome by emotions and passions, he pulled her close and attacked her lips, giving her a long, hard, wet kiss. Tears came to her eyes by the time he pulled back.

“Take rest, now. Take a nap,” he told her, making no attempt to hide how he was choking at every word, “You are still weak, and today must have been so exhausting.”

Her exhaustion, mixed with elation, was making her feel light-headed. She could sleep it off, she decided, and nodded to him.

—

Piyali was inspired again. She had set up an easel and was sketching a face. A relaxed smile played on her lips as she drew. There was no conflict in her heart now. She knew exactly who she was drawing and how she would draw it. But she was interrupted by her mother.

“Come, Ma,” she covered the sketch. Mukundo had said that he would talk to Debangi, but Piyali didn’t know if he had already done so. If he hadn’t, being caught drawing Mukundo’s portrait would be an awkward situation for her. There was a reason that he had to hide all her paintings in his forbidden chamber.

“Are you working?”

“No Ma. My job doesn’t start until next month. I was just practicing.”

Debangi sat down on her bed. “What has Mukundo told you?” she asked. The frown on her face didn’t bode well.

“Meaning?” Piyali asked cautiously.

“About… marrying you?” Debangi wasn’t quite comfortable either.

Piyali flushed and stayed silent.

“Pihu… My child. You know that I want nothing better than your happiness. If you could indeed be married again and live happily – nothing like it. But… This won’t do…”

“Why… not, Ma?”

“You are not a child, Pihu. You have been married once. And… it’s nothing to me… I am your mother…. But… you have a handicap. And again… you are my child. You are the best in the world for me… But I have to think about Mukundo, too, don’t I? He has rejected much better girls, Pihu. His family has done so much for us after your Baba’s death. When I go up there, my child, what will I tell his mother? That after he rejected so many of them, I saddled him with him with you after all this mess…”

“But Ma,” tears came to her eyes, “He wants it… doesn’t he?”

“If he wanted it, Pihu, wouldn’t he have spoken earlier? Would he have let you get married? Even pushed for the match? What has happened is that he feels guilty and he is trying to amend for it. But that just isn’t right on my or your part. At the end of the day, it is not his fault.”

“But Ma…” she was agitated and lost. She couldn’t form her arguments. She didn’t have his eloquence. What had he said? About loving her in more ways than one. But.. how was she to explain it to her mother? Under the effect of her mother’s words, she herself grew uncertain. Probably she was right. Didn’t he keep apologizing for not doing the right thing? For promoting the match without even meeting Ahwaan? For failing her? Damn it! She had been a fool.

“Don’t get me wrong, my child. But I don’t want you to repeat a mistake. And anyway, there is time. It will take time to get divorce….”

She nodded absent-mindedly, too busy with her own thoughts. After her mother left, she went to the dresser and took a good look at herself in the mirror. How had she not paid attention to this earlier? How horrible did she look! Sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, darkened skin and then… right there… that limping arm… Ugly, damaged and handicapped – outside and inside. What kind of wife would she make him? She could visualize him as if she was right there. Tall, broad shouldered, criminally fair, shapely jaws, that charming smile, that brooding, thoughtful and intellectual look… And it didn’t just end at that look. That look perfectly reflected how wise, mature and generous he was at heart…. What kind of wife would she indeed make him?

—

To be continued

Her face flushed, but she didn’t reply.

“This is agonizing, Piyali. Why are you silent?”

“I am so uncertain about everything right now, Mukundo Babu… Talking to you has made me feel much, much better. But… I am confused about… well… about everything… About even living…”

“I understand,” he interrupted her agitated rambling, “And I am sorry, it became so overwhelming for you today. Things I did today…” He paused and thought of how he had laid her on the bed and kissed her. “Or what I said…” He paused again thinking how he had tried to persuade her to accept him. “I hadn’t planned any of them. They just happened. And I won’t talk more. There is no pressure on you. There never was. There never will be. You understand that, right?” he sounded desperate by now and she relieved him of his misery by nodding.

“But you have to do one thing for me, Piyali.”

“What is it?”

“See a counsellor. Talk things out. Get well, Piyali. Else I will never be able to forgive myself for failing you so miserably, for looking the other way, when I should have helped you make right decision.”

“I will do whatever you want. Don’t blame yourself, please…”

“That’s like the brave princess I know,” he smiled and stroked her hair affectionately, “Who lives life on her own terms.”

—

Mukundo was grading some assignments, while keeping Piyali company. He was aware that she was not quite into the book she was reading and was looking up at him time and again. He ended up asking finally. “What is it?”

“Is your grading urgent?”

“No,” he immediately put aside the notebook he was reading and looked at her, “It can wait. What is it?”

“I wanted to… talk to you about… about my counselling.”

She had said that she wanted it, but she looked so nervous that Mukundo felt uncertain. “Are you sure?” he had to ask.

“Yes. Actually, my counsellor wanted me to have a ‘talk’ with you…” she smiled nervously.

“Go on,” he leaned forward and was even more attentive now.

“She wanted me to try and find out… why… when you are so nice to me and when I feel comfortable sharing everything with you… why am I still intimidated by you?”

“You are intimidated by me?” he asked calmly, without looking offended or surprised.

“That… that was the conclusion… as she probed and I talked.. Over the sessions… Don’t be angry…”

He smiled weakly, “That shows that you are indeed intimidated by me. Else, why would you think I would be angry? I sent you to counselling. Precisely for this. So that we could clear your head up.”

“But it isn’t cleared up yet.”

“So, why are you intimidated by me?”

“But I am not… It’s not like I am scared in your presence or anything…”

“Then, why didn’t you talk to me when things were going so wrong in your life?”

“That… I was…” she couldn’t finish and grew thoughtful. He let the silence prevail until she spoke again. “I was afraid of what you would think of me. How I would disappoint you. You had put your trust in me…”

“You were afraid of being proven wrong before me?”

“I… guess… so…”

He frowned and rubbed his temples. She nervously tugged at and twitched the bedsheet. She spoke again after a few moments of silence. “It wasn’t always so, Mukundo Babu.” He looked up questioningly. She repeated and continued, “It wasn’t always so. I was often wrong before you, and you corrected me. It had felt quite natural that I should need your help and I might be wrong. It had never bothered me. Not until…”

He didn’t ask her to go on. He understood. It wouldn’t have bothered her if she hadn’t been aware that he considered her a potential life-partner, an equal.

“But you didn’t want me, Piyali. Why should it have bothered you any more than earlier?” he asked.

She downcast her eyes without replying. Then she responded with a question of her own. “Why did you want me, Mukundo Babu? Why would you still want me?” He saw her eyes automatically turning to her still non-functional left hand. Physiotherapy hadn’t been particularly effective.

“If I answered, will it help you feel better?”

“I think so,” she was still not meeting his eyes.

“Let’s go to my home and talk.”

“Why?”

“Just come…”

—

Piyali’s heart beat hard with anxiety and anticipation as he led her to the forbidden chamber.  She had never been there. Nobody had been, as far as she knew. What Shikha had called his ‘little’ chamber, was, in fact, a large room. Piyali stood stupefied for several minutes.

“When did you do all this?” she asked finally.

“I have been doing this all my life,” he said and then added with a soft laughter, “Or all your life, to be more precise.” The walls were adorned with her portraits. All painted by him, as was obvious to her from the style.

“You have left me speechless, Mukundo Babu,” her voice quivered, “I don’t know what to say…”

“That’s okay,” he had grown serious, “It is my turn to talk and explain and hopefully do so without overwhelming you… But if I do surprise or discomfort you, you just have to tell me to stop… Okay?”

She nodded.

He took her hands and led her to a smaller painting, “You probably do not recognize this. You haven’t seen yourself like this. I have.” He was only being rhetorical. The painting showed her on a hospital bed, unconscious. She needn’t have seen herself like that to know what time he was talking about. He knew that too. He continued without explaining anything about the painting, “When you weren’t yet conscious, doctors feared much worse than just a paralysis of hand.  And for the first time in my adult life, I had prayed. I had prayed to Ma Durga that She should let you live even if every single muscle of your body was paralyzed. I had told Her that I would make up for everything your body will not do  and will serve you all my life, but She should let you live. I had prayed for what would have been very cruel to you, Piyali. But you have known what being in love is like. So, I think you will understand my desperation. ”

She downcast her eyes, although he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the painting. He, as usual, credited her for what she was not. She did not know what being in love was like. Not like him, anyway. What she had known was a heady rush of stupidity.  But standing there, in that room, beside him, she might finally have begun to understand what love was really like. Or getting her first lesson in it, at least.

“You asked me why I wanted you. I am also human, Piyali. I have my weaknesses. I might have acted on them at times. But truth is that I don’t want you. If you don’t want me, I don’t want you. I only love you. And I couldn’t stop loving you or start hating you, just because you rejected me as a lover. Because my love is not for one thing. I love you in more ways than one. Yes, of course, I love this beautiful girl in your, Piyali. You have these expressive eyes, full of curiosity, wondrous, child-like. They haven’t lost their innocence even after they have seen some of the worst the life has to offer. You may not remain beautiful forever. An accident may happen… But I l will still love you because I also love the familiarity I have with you. I know every expression of your face; I know the meaning of every move of yours… You springy gait, your lazy ambling, your stooping, listless walk… I know them all. I can recognize every single stroke of yours in your paintings… I can recognize your singing even if your voice is at its faintest… And I love knowing it all! But all this might also change. Or I might lose the ability to see. But will I stop loving you? No, Piyali. Because I love talking Philosophy with you too. You say you don’t talk profoundly. But you talk simply, Piyali, and still make sense. Which fool wouldn’t love that? But let’s say you are not profound enough. You had said you like frivolous things. I also love flattering you. And I love you in a nice dress and when I see one, I want to buy it for you.  And I love trekking and camping, although you didn’t know it. But if you and I stop enjoying all this, then what? Even then I can’t stop loving you, Piyali. Because one thing won’t change, I am sure of that. You will still continue to understand me. Like you have always understood me. Like you understand me now, whether I am being profound or silly, whether I almost stalk you, worried about your safety from weeds, or whether I am scared of being jealous and doing wrong by you! Even if not a single muscle of your body had worked, Piyali, I knew that you would have understood me, and you would have anchored my life. Always!”

—

To be continued

Early on, Ahwaan had started asking her about how their money and property was managed at home.  Piyali could give only sketchy responses as Mukundo looked after most of it and Debangi had the signing authority. Piyali hadn’t bothered herself about it. She didn’t think much of his questions until he started pestering her for letting him manage the money. He wanted to have his own investment firm and this would help him get started. She told him that the money was managed by Mukundo, and it couldn’t be otherwise.

“But Piyali, you had only had to tell me. If you wanted him to manage the money, what objection could I have?”

“But I didn’t want him to, Mukudno Babu,” she said a quivering voice, “There is more…”

“I’m sorry. Please go on…”

Was he one of those frauds that finance industry is littered with, he wondered. It wasn’t like he had been able to do any harm to the family money, though. Why was she so guilty?

“You would ask me on phone what was wrong, and I didn’t know how to answer it. I had thought he was passionate. And that’ what had attracted me so fatally to him. But he was paranoid, Mukundo Babu. He was worried about every minute I was not in front of his eyes. He would call up on the landline to check if I was at home. He would want me to tell him everything about my phone conversations with anyone. Even with you and Ma. After a few days, he started checking my phone’s history because he suspected that I wasn’t telling him who I talked to… And then he accused me of deleting the history…  Or not informing him about a friend I had called up…”

She could see his muscles quivering in anger, but she continued talking. She couldn’t stop herself if she wanted. She had been holding it all inside her all this while, but now it wasn’t in her power to stop.

“I once asked him why he was so paranoid and why did he not trust me. He said the most horrible thing…” she paused here and hesitated.

“Go on, Piyali,” he spoke through his clenched teeth, as gently as he could manage, “There is nothing you cannot tell me. Don’t hesitate, not even for a moment.”

“He said – if you could sleep with me when we were not married, what was the guarantee that you would not sleep with someone else now? Especially…”

“Especially?”

She gulped hard, “You. He thought we have always…”

“Is that why you had stopped talking to me?” he asked sounding calm, even though a storm was raging within him.

She shook her head.

“Then?”

“I left his house the day he raised his hands on me… I continued pretending before Ma. But… I knew I would not be able to lie to you. And I didn’t know how to face you… You had trusted me blindly. You had persuaded Ma about him…” The tears that had stopped while she had talked reappeared.

“I swear, Piyali, he will go behind bars for this torture…”

The chill and determination in his voice unnerved her. “Mukundo Babu, please. I don’t want any of that. I just… just want a divorce and be done with him.”

He noticed the effect of his anger on her and took a deep breath to calm himself down. Then he held her close and said, “None of this was your fault…”

“But it was…” she replied with a downcast eyes, “I should have introduced him to you earlier. But I had kept putting it off. Because somewhere, in the depth of my heart… I knew you wouldn’t approve of him. He was nothing like you, even when he was at his best…” She lifted her eyes and looked at him before continuing, “I was really surprised when you approved the match without even meeting him…” She stopped as she noticed him averting his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I failed you…”

“You had said…” she stopped as she noticed the look of guilt on his face. She understood what had happened, “You did that because you thought I would accuse you of jealousy otherwise?”

“You, Piyali, had been generous and sporting about my feelings even though they were so unacceptable to you. You did not out me, nor did you embarrass me at any point of time. You would not have accused me of anything. But I wasn’t so sure of myself at that point. I have always only wanted you happiness. I had no intentions of ever telling you… And till you didn’t know, I knew I could always act in your best interest, even if it would hurt me. But knowing that you knew… It had put me in a strange frame of mind. I didn’t trust myself at all…”

“You are so humble about me, Mukundo Babu, as if I am some… But Mukundo Babu, Shikha, and you, had heard only part of my opinion. And it was quite stupid. Because I had thought that I needed a life partner who was passionate and wild, so that I could be wild with him too. What I didn’t realize was that I could be wild because you were always there, grounded, to support me if I fell, and to guide me if I strayed. I was so utterly wrong. But there is another part…” her voice trailed.

“What is it?” Mukundo asked anxiously.

She smiled at him sadly, “There is nothing profound in it, Mukundo Babu. Thing is, I cannot say anything profound. I cannot fathom depths of your wisdom, knowledge and feelings. I am an ordinary girl. I enjoy frivolous things.” She repeated her exact thoughts from that day, when she had that fateful conversation with Shikha, “A little flattery, a nice dress, a trek up the hills and camping in jungles. And apart from being superficial in my tastes, now I have also proved myself to be an idiot, who does not know right from wrong. What more? I am an invalid too,” she instinctively touched her left hand, “What would you do with someone like me, Mukundo Babu? I’m no good for you.” She felt a lump forming in her throat and turned away from him.

He went around to face her again. She wasn’t crying, but was so sad and miserable that he could not help drawing her in a tight embrace. “I will tell you everything that is wrong with your opinion of yourself,” he said as he released her still holding her close, “But right now you tell me this. Do you think I am any good for you? If yes, then try me. And if I am not the happiest person in the world with you, then you can do whatever you want with me.”

—

To be continued

“Will she be up for it, Mukundo?” Debangi was not convinced.

“Kaki. She has always enjoyed outdoors. She is feeling suffocated and depressed inside the house. It’s just a day-long outing, and I will be there with her.”

“As you think fit. Take her, once she feels strong enough… I don’t know what to do or say any longer. Nothing seems to revive her.”

Mukundo averted his eyes. He always felt so guilty while talking to Debangi about Piyali’s condition.

“What are you talking about?” Piyali appeared in the dining room and walked towards the fridge.

“Pihu! What are you doing here?” her mother was alarmed seeing her walking about by herself. She had needed help until then.

Piyali ignored her and went to the fridge to take out water. She first had to open the door and then use the same hand to take the bottle out. Debangi made to go to help her, but Mukundo stopped her with a silent gesture. Piyali kept the bottle on the fridge and closed the door. She then supported the bottle against a box kept on the fridge top and opened the cap with her right hand. Depositing it on the top of the fridge, she took the bottle and drank from it. Mukundo smiled proudly. Debangi felt her eyes watering. But she controlled her emotions and a barely perceptible smile formed on her lips too.

Piyali managed to keep the bottle back in the fridge with similar effort and turned back to them with questioning eyes. They had still not answered her question.

“Camping. I would like you to come with me to camping,” Mukundo bounced up from the chair and said brightly.

“Camping?” she smiled bitterly, “I don’t have the strength to tie my laces. You expect me to tie the tent-knots?”

“I know how to set up a tent.”

“You do?” she frowned.

“Yes. And we won’t need an elaborate arrangement. It would be a day outing.”

Piyali looked uncertainly from him to Debangi. “You should go, Pihu,” her mother encouraged her. In the little exchange, she had deciphered that despite her apprehensions, the idea clearly excited her daughter.

“When?” Piyali asked.

“Saturday? I don’t have to go to the university.”

“Fine,” Piyali said and went back to her room.

—

“So, how does it look?” Mukundo looked at Piyali cheerfully after he had tied the final knot of their tent.

She smiled, “You do it expertly. I had no idea. And how did you discover this place?”

“During one of my trekkings.”

“Trekking? You go on treks? And do camping?”

“MmmHmm. Come in. It’s ready. We could sit inside for a while. You look tired from trekking.”

She followed his lead and went in. He prepared a make-shift straw bed and asked her to sit down. She was careful, but in trying to sit on the bed at the ground level with no support from her left hand, she lost her balance. She would have fallen back on the bed, but he rushed and supported her in time. Unlike the tea-incident, this time she could not keep her tears in check. They flew unrestrained from her eyes. He held her and looked into her eyes directly for a long minute. Then he gently laid her down.

He ran his hand over both her arms. Her left arm could feel nothing, but the gentleness of the caress was obvious on the right one. Her tears continued to flow, but she kept her eyes locked to his. He positioned himself partly on top of her, avoiding putting his full weight on her. Then he bent down and kissed her forehead. She offered no resistance and he moved to kissing and drinking up her tears. After kissing the tip of her nose, he gave her a quick peck on the lips, but did not follow up with a real kiss there. He positioned one of his hands under her neck, lifting it a little. It made her arch her head and give him access to her neck.  He kissed her neck and collarbone; then removed his hand from under her neck. Tears had stained her cheeks again, as they had never stopped flowing.

“I am not going further,” he said in a thick voice, “Because I don’t know what you want, what you are comfortable with and what is going on in your head.  But I need you to know, Piyali, that you are the best. And what you are doing to yourself is wrong.”

With this he sat up and helped her sit up too.

“If there is anything I have that I can give you, Mukundo Babu,” her eyes were downcast as she spoke, “Take it from me and move on in your life. Don’t continue to fret over me.”

He frowned and bit his lips before replying, stifling the urge to rebuke her strongly. “Even if you think me capable of doing something like that… Even if you are convinced that I can use you and then leave you, even then, about yourself, you will not talk like that. You will not debase yourself like that. Do you understand?”

She covered her face with her hand and started sobbing now. “Don’t expect me to do anything right, Mukundo Babu. I have been a fool all through. I am so, so ashamed of myself…”

His frown deepened on hearing the word ‘ashamed’. He forced her to remove her hand from her face and cupped it. How gentle touch was quite in contrast with the disapproving look he had on his face. “You have to talk to me now. What is this ‘ashamed’ business? What are you ashamed of? That too, with me?”

“Tell me, Piyali,” he urged, speaking softly now, when she did not reply.

“Of my choices. Of my choosing him over you… I was so stupid… I was head over heels in love.”

“There was nothing wrong with that feeling, Piyali. Nothing wrong at all with that. Tell me, what really went wrong? Why did you separate from him? You couldn’t just have changed your mind, right? ”

She stood up with his help. She needed some distance from him to talk. And then she told him everything. Things she discovered about Ahwaan after getting married. It had all felt beautiful in the beginning. She was blissful. Their honeymoon had been great. That much Mukundo had guessed from his conversations with her in the initial days. She tried to be restrained while talking to him, but the nervous excitement she always carried about her betrayed her happiness. And he was happy for her. But after few days, he had noticed changes. She avoided talking much about her life. Sometimes he felt that she was close to tears, though she never admitted so. He had thought that those were signs of troubles. And he hadn’t been wrong.

—

To be continued

Mukundo could not get into a serious conversation with Piyali again while they stayed in Mumbai. Debangi almost never left her side and he did not have the heart to ask her to be away from her ailing daughter. On Debangi’s part, her sole focus was on Piyali’s physical recovery. As far as the reason of the mishap was concerned, she had declared Ahwaan to be a villain and had decided that marrying her daughter outside the community was a mistake. “You can never find out what sort of a person they are, if you don’t know people around them,” she would say. She didn’t bear him any ill-will for encouraging the match. She was only grateful that he was around, as always. But Mukundo himself felt responsible and wretched. His sole consolation was his belief that he would gain Piyali’s confidence again and really understand what was going on with her. So he was bidding his time until they could be back in Kolkata.

Meanwhile he had gleaned whatever information he could from Shanta. She had left Ahwaan’s home three months ago. She had enough money of her own to not bother anyone about it. She had been living in an apartment with Shanta. Shanta had accompanied her from Kolkata after her marriage. So, they were comfortable together. But while talking to her mother, Piyali had kept up the pretense that all was well in her life, while she had stopped talking to Mukundo altogether. Mukundo was exasperated on hearing this. Why had Shanta not informed them about the separation? Piyali had strictly forbidden her from doing so. What was the reason for fights and separation? Shanta couldn’t say, but it did seem like something about money?

Money? It didn’t make sense to Mukundo. Ahwaan was a high-flying investment banker. Piyali’s family wealth was immense. Which of them would need to fight over money? And fight so much that it should to lead to a separation within three months of getting married?

On their flight back, sitting across from Debangi’s and Piyali’ in a separate row, he recalled what she had told him about Ahwaan. She had met him through a friend when he was on an assignment in Kolkata. They had clicked almost instantly. He had accompanied her on her weekend camping, trekking and outings.  Mukundo always kept an eye on her outings to ensure that she was safe. Once, she had wanted to go camping in a forest some two-hundred kilometers from the city. Mukundo knew that the place had weeds that she was allergic to. But she wouldn’t give up. How could he possibly know about the weeds in that faraway place? And she could always avoid it. He had made her promise that the camp organizers would go to the nearest village and call him if she had even tiniest of the troubles. Hardly had they set up their tents, when she had started sneezing. The organizers did go to the village and call him. Without telling her, he had himself been staying in that village that night. He had brought her back immediately and admitted her to the hospital.

Despite this overprotectiveness, he didn’t bother much about people accompanying her. Most of them were her friends for years. There had never been any trouble with them. He hadn’t paid any attention when Ahwaan had slipped in to that group.

Her relationship with Ahwaan had become serious enough in the six months they were together and hence they were married by the time his assignment in Kolkata was over. She had left her job as an artist in a marketing agency and had shifted with him to Mumbai. And in another six months, she had felt depressed enough to slit her wrists. Why?

—

They settled her in the bed on reaching Kolkata.

“Do you want some tea, Mukundo?”

“That would be great, Kaki.”

“I will ask Promila to send a cup.”

“And you should take rest, Kaki. Piyali is alright.”

“I will take a nap.”

“Yes. Please do. And ask Promila to bring some tea for Piyali too. With cardamom,” it was her favorite, although Mukundo didn’t like his tea with cardamom.

“Sure. Aren’t you going to take rest?”

“I am fine for now. I will stay with her.”

He turned to Piyali after Debangi left. She looked ashen-faced.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Don’t be so nice to me, Mukundo Babu. You should hate me.”

“Hate you?” he averted his eyes for a moment; then looked back at her. She felt that his eyes would penetrate her soul. “You are such an idiot, Piyali. You never realized, did you, that I love you in more ways than one, in myriad ways?”

“Mukundo Babu!”

“There is one time when I have hated you in life. When I got that call from Shanta about what you had done. First, you didn’t talk to me for three months. Then… How could you do that? Did I mean nothing to you?”

“You meant more to me than I ever realized, Mukundo Babu. And I was so ashamed. I am so ashamed.”

“What are you ashamed of?”

She did not reply. But silent tears started rolling down her cheeks. Mukundo closed his eyes for a moment to contain his own and then gently wiped hers.

“Stop this,” he said feigning sternness, “You need to get better, not worse.”

The tea came. Mukundo took the tray from Promila. Promila stayed a minute to ask after Piyali; then left them alone again. Piyali sat up and picked up her cup with her right hand. She faltered a bit and instinctively tried to use her left hand to balance the cup. But that hand lied limp beside her. Mukundo noticed her faltering at the same time and held her cup with his hands to steady her. The little tea that spilled did not fall on her hand, but on his. Her eyes grew moist again, but she blinked back the tears and sipped her tea in silence. He did notice her emotional state though. He was used to noticing small things about her. If only she hadn’t been so far away from him, it would never have come to this.

—

To be continued

“Dada!”

“What on earth gave you the idea? Why would you tell her something like that?”

“But was I wrong, Dada?”

“Yes. You were. You were absurd,” he had unknowingly used the same word as Piyali, “Never again should you speak like that to anyone…”

“I wasn’t wrong. Why is no one allowed in your little chamber?”

“Excuse me?”

“I went in there. I saw all the paintings. There is no other reason why all of Piyali’s portraits should be locked up there…”

“Shikha!” he had been furious, “Never ever should you step in that room again. And never ever should you talk like this again. I don’t like shouting at you. Don’t make me do it. Don’t spoil your vacation.”

—

Was she alive? Or was she floating in that place between life and death, where all her deeds were being weighed for their justness.

When Shikha had abruptly excused herself and ran off, Piyali had immediately realized that Mukundo was present there and had overheard them. Her heart had sunk. She didn’t know whether Shikha’s question to her was purely an act of leg-puling, some kind of speculation, or whether she knew something… But a sense of dread had filled her. It was Mukundo’s father that Debangi had turned to after her husband’s death for help in managing her affairs. But for Piyali, Mukundo had been his friend, philosopher and guide since she could remember anything. What she had told Shikha would have made him look inadequate. But what she hadn’t been able to express before she ran off was how inadequate she found herself to be for him. His ideal life-partner would be a philosopher like him – enjoying the higher things in life. Not someone as frivolous as she was; who enjoyed a little flattery, a nice dress, a trek up the hills and camping in jungles.

Despite the incompatibility as life-partners, the relationship that they had was her anchor in life. Anything breaking that relationship would be the death of her. What was she to do after this? There was already the issue of introducing Ahwaan to them. She was afraid that Mukundo would not approve of Ahwaan. Without his support, getting Debangi to agree would be impossible. And now this complication has come up. What was she to do? Oh, Mukundo Babu! You can’t abandon me.

He hadn’t abandoned her. She was the one who had abandoned him instead.

“I am sorry, Mukundo Babu,” she muttered again.

“Piyali!” she could feel his hands on her forehead, as if it was now, and not twelve years ago… She had caught typhoid after coming back from a school trip and was down with high fever. He had sat at her bedside the entire night, even sending Debangi to her room to take rest. She would often be restless at nights, barely conscious and rambling. He would stroke her forehead and soothe her and she would fall back to sleep again. Her mother had come in the morning with her food and medicines.

“Piyali!” how easy it was to float back in time at the door of death. Or after death.  Mukundo Babu’s warm hands, her mother’s kindly eyes…. She opened her eyes. What she felt was not the body-ache of high fever, but an acute pain in her arms. Mukundo Babu did not look like he looked twelve-years ago, when she had fallen sick. Her mother also looked older…

Piyali was not dead. She was on the hospital bed after slitting her wrists. Mukundo Babu was by her bedside, stroking her forehead. It was his smooth voice that she had heard, not an echo of some past memory. Her mother was there too. An acute sense of shame washed over her. Why was she alive to face these people? People who loved her so much, but whom she had let down by making wrong choices and by trying to commit suicide. How would she ever explain herself to them? She shouldn’t have been alive. But just because she was in the hospital and still alive, it didn’t mean she would stay alive. She felt stupid immediately afterwards, but she asked, “Am I dying?”

“No,” replied Mukundo, “Just stay strong, like you are.”

She closed her eyes, feeling ashamed. He credited her with too many qualities that she didn’t have. He said that she was strong; she wasn’t. He thought that she was wise enough to choose her life partner; she wasn’t. He probably thought that she was good enough to be his life partner; she wasn’t.

She opened her eyes and said miserably, “Let me die, Mukundo Babu.”

“Pihu!” her mother spoke now, alarmed, anxious and slightly angry, “Stop talking like that. What were you thinking? Were you thinking of me at all?” It took her some effort to not break into sobs. Mukundo and the doctor had warned he against doing something like that before Piyali

Piyali closed her eyes again, obviously close to tears herself.

“Kaki. I messed up her life. By letting her marry that crook. I know you are anxious right now. But would you let me talk to her alone? Please.”

The request was unusual. But Debangi acceded. “I will inform the doctor that she is awake. And Pihu, Shona, please don’t lose heart. Everything will be all right,” she patted her head and went out with tearful eyes.

“Why did you… Why do you want to die, Piyali?” Mukundo asked. His eyes were soft and comforting, as Piyali looked into them.

“I had hurt you… so much… You didn’t say a word… But all that… for that bastard…”

“You had hurt me? All right. And you think this sight… you in bed like that… your wrist slit… this is pleasant for me? Is that why you did it? To please me?”

His expressions had changed in a split second. His dagger eyes stung right at her heart and she felt almost a physical pain. But she did not try to shirk it off. She deserved it.

And yet she pleaded with him. “Mukundo Babu, please!”

He softened again, “Piyali. I need to know everything about what has happened. But right now, here is the most important thing. You cannot die. You have to live. For Kaki’s sake. For… my sake. Do you understand? You have to live. And you have to exercise all your willpower. Say yes, Piyali. If you ever do such a thing again, you will regret it, I am telling you. Say yes. Now!”

The doctor entered with Debangi just then and their conversation was interrupted. He looked at her miserably and she looked likewise. The doctor examined her and instructed the nurse to get her food and medicine. Mukundo walked out with him to consult him.

“I’m afraid there is damage to tandems, which means her left hand is paralyzed,” the doctor informed him.

“Forever?” Mukundo was composed outwardly, but felt a knot in the pit of his stomach.

“I will recommend physiotherapy. Over time it may help. But…”

“Hmm…” It was obvious from doctor’s tone that the hopes were slim.

“And there is that issue of FIR about suicide…”

“Yeah. I will take care of it.” He had already spoken to some people he knew in Mumbai and no case was going to be filed.

—

To be continued

“I’m sorry, Mukundo Babu,” she mumbled as she ran the blade over her wrist. Then with a determined swing of hands, she slit it.

She cried out feeling the excruciating pain. She hadn’t grown as numb with her disappointments as she had thought. For a moment she regretted her decision of dying. That too in such a grotesque and painful fashion. If Mukundo Babu would see her in this pain… Oh! Mukundo Babu! She deserved all the pain for having hurt him, for having rejected him… And for whose sake?

The effect of blood-loss started taking effect. She couldn’t feel the pain any longer. Just a numbness and dizziness. As if she needed to sleep badly.

“Mukundo Babu!” she had finally located him in the kitchen amidst the hustle and bustle of her wedding. The baraat was at the door. So, everyone had left her alone and went out to see the procession.

She was decked up in her wedding finery. Mukundo, who was taking out a bottle of chilled water from the refrigerator, had frozen at his place on seeing her.  Then his eyes had grown moist at this sight. He had imagined her so often in this attire…

“Piyali!” he had barely managed to speak, “What are you doing here?”

“Are you angry at me?”

His face had flushed. All this while he had been pretending that she didn’t know. And she had cooperated in this pretense. Why now? On this night of all the time? Perhaps she wanted to move on without the guilt of hurting him weighing on her. He would help her with that! He always did what would make her happy. That night was going to be no exception.

He had walked to her and had kissed her on forehead.  “No,” he had said, “How can I ever be angry with you? You are the best, Piyali. Always be happy.”

And he had walked off. Without drinking the water, he had come for. But she had known that he was still not going to join others in welcoming the baraat. He had headed to the backyard, where cooking for the guests was being given final touches. He would supervise the workers.

She had heard the music getting louder. The baraat must be at the gates now. She had rushed to the balcony of her room. There was Ahwaan! His parents had been cool and he had agreed to have a Bengali wedding. How gorgeous he had looked in a typical Bengali groom’s attire. Her heart had leapt with joy.

—

Mukundo Thakur was particularly restless that day. It was Piyali’s six month wedding anniversary. It had been almost three months since he had talked to her. One fine day, she had stopped taking his call.

He visited her mother, Debangi, as usual. Piyali’s father, Debendra Banerjee, had died in an accident when Piyali was only six months old. Since then Mukundo’s father had helped Debangi in managing her home and property.  After he also died, the responsibility fell on Mukundo’s shoulders, which he had taken up devotedly.

Debangi talked about Piyali. But she always assumed that Mukundo would also have spoken to her. So, she didn’t bother getting into specifics. Her chatter usually conveyed a general impression of hers that everything was all right with her and she was happy.

So long as she was happy, he was content. Sad and lonely; but content. Where did this restlessness come from today? The only time he had felt this restless in past was when she had sprung up the news of her lover to them. There was someone she had wanted to marry.

He had been informed by Debangi, who had been out of her depths. “Ahwaan Sharma! Mukundo. She couldn’t find anyone in the community…”

“Kaki,” he had assured her while fighting his own restlessness, “Let me talk to her. You don’t need to worry about his caste and community. These things don’t matter these days. So long as he makes a good husband for Piyali…”

Piyali had looked mortified, when he had suddenly questioned her, “How come you never told me about this, Piyali?”

She had stayed silent.

“Is he really a good boy? Will he keep you happy?”

“Yes Mukundo Babu. We get along very well… We really like each other,” she had somehow found her voice.

“I will take your words for it.”

“Ma is upset.”

“If you have made the right choice, Piyali, getting her to agree is my responsibility. Don’t worry. ”

“And how would you believe that I have made the right choice.”

“I’d believe you.”

His phone ringing brought him out of his reverie. Piyali? How come? After all these months? It was Shanta using Piyali’s mobile phone.

—

“Didi! Didi! Oh my God! What have you done?” Shanta, her live-in maid, was bendin over her. Why was she here? Hadn’t Piyali sent her out with at least four hours worth of work? “What do I do? I must… You’re… Your wrists… Ambulance…  I will call Ahwaan Dada…”

“Mukundo Babu…” she mumbled, while Shanta got busy with the mission of saving her. She didn’t want to be saved. She didn’t deserve to live. And she definitely didn’t want Ahwaan to come to her rescue.

She would later learn that Ahwaan was not in town. Or so he claimed. Shanta ended up calling Mukundo in Kolkata. She didn’t think calling Debangi and worrying her would help. He looked up the number for the ambulance service online and gave it to Shanta. He had also booked the next available flight for himself and Debangi.

—

“Seatbelt is fastened like this…” In the best of the days, it was impossible for people to focus on the safety demonstrations on the flights. Today was the worst day of his life. Debangi, sitting beside him, was worried. But he had only told her that Piyali was ill. She wasn’t aware of the real thing… Slitting her wrist? What could have driven Piyali to do that?

“I am a princess, Mukundo Babu. I will live life on my own terms,” he remembered what she used to say so often. He had wondered at times if Piyali had been hasty in marrying Ahwaan because of what Shikha had done. Expose his feelings to her.

He had stopped in his tracks on hearing Shikha and Piyali talk. Shikha was his cousin, who often came to spend summer holidays with him at Kolkata. She and Piyali had become good friends over the years and they looked forward to spending time together in summers.

“What if Dada were in love with you?” she had asked Piyali, in the course of their girly gossips, Mukundo assumed. But what on earth could have given her the idea? Surely, he had mastered the art of concealing such feelings of his, expressed only in that small, locked chamber, where even Piyali was not allowed to go!

“Don’t be absurd, Shikha.”

“No. No. No,” she had been giggling, “You have scooped out all my secrets; you can’t just get away with this. Tell me, what will you do if Dada wanted to marry you?”

“That isn’t possible, Shikha,” Piyali had been somber, “Tell me you are joking.”

“Why not? Isn’t he the one you are closest to? Why not?”

“But… No. That’s not how it works. I respect him like I do not respect any other person in the world, not even my mother. And I love him too,” he had forgotten to breathe for a moment on hearing that. Could it mean that she had the same feelings and same hesitation as he had? That their age-gap would make it inappropriate? But she had continued, “I love him, but not like that. He is someone I will always go to for advice. But my life partner needs to be passionate, wild… Like me… We are not like each other at all. We’d be miserable together.” She wasn’t even bothered about what, to him, was the only issue standing between them. She had considered the possibility and rejected him as a suitor. He had never imagined having this conversation with her, had never imagined proposing to her. So, he had no definite expectations about her feelings. But he had known at that moment that her rejection had hurt him immensely. He couldn’t have gone before her just then and still act normally. He had turned on his heels. She, probably, hadn’t seen him, but Shikha had. She had excused herself from Piyali and had run after him to his house.

—

To be continued