Mish' Fiction

“I was out of my mind to have said that,” her self-recrimination was ruthless.

“Forget about it, okay? I am telling you to. Do you understand that?”

She nodded, still not meeting his eyes, and said, “I will go to my room. You must have work to do.”

“Don’t you want to know about the divorce papers?” he was surprised.

She shook her head, “I don’t want to know anything. Do you want me to sign it?” She was guilt-ridden.

“Do you want to sign it?”

“For a moment I had thought that I could give you what you needed in your wife, Mukundo Babu. I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“What I am interested in knowing is whether you have considered your own options. What I said on your first day here still stands. You are young, intelligent, and beautiful, Piyali. You will have other options. I don’t want to bind you to me. That’s why those divorce papers. They weren’t prepared today. I had then prepared before you started college. So that you could be free. I just could not manage to talk to you about it. And when I did manage to bring it before you, all my plans went haywire. But your choices should not be eliminated because of my weakness.”

“The divorce papers were for my sake?”

He nodded.

“What do you want, Mukundo Babu? Not for me. But for yourself.”

“You first. What do you want? Not for me. But for yourself.”

She could not play this hide and seek any more. If he could lose control over himself like that, forget about his long-prepared divorce papers, kiss her impulsively, follow her to her room and sweep her off her feet with that seductive talk, she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t know what he wanted. She decided to speak out.

“If you had accepted this marriage in the very beginning, Mukundo Babu, I would still have respected you, and worshipped you, for being my savior, for giving me shelter, for feeding me, for restoring my dignity. But I would not have become what I have become now – somebody you could love. Even more importantly, I would not have known what it meant to know a person and slowly, but surely, fall in love with him. A little every day. Reaching a stage where you love him with your heart and soul. A love that doesn’t demand reciprocation. But if reciprocated, it would give you the ultimate nirvana. If unreciprocated, your life would still feel fulfilled.”

Mukundo smiled, an overwhelmed smile, reaching all the way up to his moist eyes. “You would do very well in English literature,” he said. Then he drew her in his arms and kissed her on forehead. She closed her eyes and expected another kiss on her lips. She had been taken by surprise last time. This time, she was ready to reciprocate. But she felt his arms loosening around her. He led her back to the table and picked up the divorce papers.

“I could make it dramatic and tear it with hands. But I think there is a shredder somewhere here. It does a more perfect job. Let’s use it.” They went to the shredder together and he let her feed the papers to it.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Where to?”

“To your room,” she said in a flat voice, but gulped after that.

He looked at her questioningly.

“I… I want to eliminate any grounds for divorce!”

He was taken aback by her boldness. She was going to be a handful in the days to come. But he was looking forward to it.

“If you talk like that, I may not have patience to go to my bedroom,” he teased her.

“My room is closer,” she replied.

“We are already in a room.”

“What? Here?” she was suddenly nervous.

“Why not?” he gave a meaningful smile, took her to the door, and closed it. He pinned her against the closed door and kissed her. A long, deep, breathtaking kiss. She reciprocated with gusto as she felt his hands undoing the zip of her kurta.

—

They were lying in his bed later in the day. Piyali was in his arms. He remembered something and suddenly said, “I had never seen you cry earlier.”

The content, happy smile on her face disappeared. “I don’t cry before others.”

He turned on his stomach and propped himself up to look directly in her eyes, “You cry alone?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why Piyali? Why alone?”

“They always wanted me to cry. It was my little rebellion against them. To not cry when they could see.”

“Who?”

“Everyone. My family, neighbors, so called in-laws. Everybody said I should cry when I was widowed. I didn’t even know his name properly. I didn’t feel a thing. How could I cry? They threatened, cajoled, pleaded with me, to cry. For the sake of showing the world that I was a devoted wife,  a girl of character. The more they insisted, the more determined I became to not cry. Not before them. Not when they scolded me, not when they insulted me, not even when they hit me. I did cry. Because they won’t let me have fish. My food would be bland without any onion, garlic or spices. I’d eat so little, I felt weak. Later I had to cook for myself, separate from others. I cried because I had to do all housework and keep myself busy in prayers so that my widowed mind did not get corrupt. I wasn’t allowed to spend time with the girls of my age. They were married, they had kids, I shouldn’t be affected by their marital bliss and learn what it was like to be married. It would give me wrong ideas. I cried because of all this. But not before them.”

He cupped her face. “I’m sorry. Don’t think about them.” That explained why as an eighteen year old did not know anything about sexual relationships. She wasn’t allowed to talk even to her friends. Where else would she have learned about it in that small, isolated village?

“I don’t. It feels like another birth,” she smiled weakly.

“Weren’t you scared when you came here initially?”

“I was,” she said truthfully.

“You cried alone? In your room?”

She nodded looking guilty.

“Why not before me, Piyali? Why did you keep everything inside you? You didn’t think I would hurt you, did you?”

“I… I was just not used to. And then before today… I had never…”

“Never?”

“I have never spoken to my husband, had I? Your life already seemed consumed by worrying about me. I didn’t want to add more to that.”

He smiled. “That’s no longer the case, right? You are speaking to your husband and one who has no grounds to ask for divorce either,” both of them chuckled at the joke. Then he continued seriously, “Promise me you won’t do that from now on. You won’t suffer alone. Ideally, I don’t want you to cry ever, Piyali. But if you are ever upset, or hurt, you must share with me. Okay?”

“Yes,” she replied. Then added after a pause, “And you too.”

That made him laugh. “Yes. Sure.”

“Can I ask you something, Mukundo Babu?”

“Ask away my princess. Satisfy all your curiosities,” he replied playfully.

“Do you still believe in this soul-mate thing?”

His brows knitted for a moment as he thought; then said somberly, “I don’t think I really did. But now I do. I have to.”

– The End –

The door to her room was shut, but unlocked. Usually he would have knocked. But right now, it felt right to just walk in. He pushed the door gently. It did not make any sound. She was standing near the window, looking out into the garden. Her back was towards the door.

“Piyali,” he gently called her name. Even from behind, he could see that she was startled. She would have realized the oddity of him coming in just like that. He saw her hands move to her face. Probably to wipe her tears. Then she turned around and tried to behave like nothing happenede saw her ahnds .

“Yes Mukundo Babu?”

He went close to her. Too close! But she did not move back, although she averted her eyes and looked down. “So, I hear that you are okay with being my wife.”

Gosh! She had never heard him speak in that voice. It was seductive beyond her wildest imagination. She colored and gasped audibly. Her face felt hot.  He held her shoulders. She felt goose bumps rise immediately on her skin and she shivered so hard that even he could feel it.

“Do you know what it means?”

The same voice. She would swoon. She bit her lips hard to keep her senses from failing her.

“Do you know now what is one supposed to do on wedding night?”

She closed her eyes. No romance novel, no erotic scene on TV had made her feel like this. She could give her life for these few moments of ultimate bliss.

“Mukundo Babu, please,” she pleaded against his teasing.

“Answer me. I am damn serious.” His voice wasn’t changing. She would be dead soon at this rate.

She gulped and nodded.

“And how? Through biology lessons?” He was smiling now and there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

But Piyali was hypnotized. “Internet,” she answered truthfully.

He chuckled. For a moment she came out of her trance and got alarmed. Was it all a joke? But his gentle kiss on her forehead swept off all alarm.

And then all of a sudden something happened that had never happened in last four years. She started sobbing. Uncontrollably. She leaned on his chest and cried her heart out. Someone else in his position might have worried. But his training in psychology ensured that he understood the emotional outburst. Although his lover’s heart sank at her miserable crying, he did not show any signs of panic. Instead he tightened his arms around her and supported her. He let her cry. It would be cathartic. It was high time she did it.

“That’s enough,” he said only after she herself had stopped crying. He took her to the bed and gave her some water.

“I am sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying.

“No. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize, or didn’t acknowledge, all these days how you felt.”

“Don’t. Please don’t,” she hastily stopped him.

“You won’t let me apologize?”

“No. Never. Not even over my dead body. You have given me my life, my dignity, my independence. You can take them away whenever you want.”

He sighed. She had already made it clear. She won’t stop worshipping him. He’d have to live with that. He just pulled her close in a gentle embrace.

They were startled by a knock on the door and separated hastily. It was Sonelal. “Mahendra Babu has come,” he announced.

“Okay. Have him seated in the hall. I will come down in a minute,” Mukundo told him. He turned to Piyali after Sonelal left, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, wiping the last drop of her tears.

“It won’t take me long. It is just some university administrative matters that he wants to discuss.”

“I will also come and say hello to him.”

“Okay.”

—

Piyali had said that she would be in the library while leaving Mukundo and Mahendra. Mukundo entered the library to the sight of a horrified Piyali. In a moment he realized what had happened. She had laid her hands on the papers he had brought to the library earlier. The divorce papers!

The papers slipped from her hands as she noticed him. She looked utterly confused and miserable and… even scared. Damn it! Mukundo had forgotten all about the papers in the heady events of the day. He should have hidden them away.

But… he checked himself. Should he have? What had happened was not planned. It was not necessarily right. She still didn’t know that she had an option. She should know, shouldn’t she?

“You want to divorce me?” she asked uncertainly before he could say anything.

“Listen to me, Piyali.”

“I… I should have known. What was I thinking?” she started blabbering to herself as she arranged the papers back. Then she made to go towards the door. “But when was I thinking anything. I was thinking nothing. Why did you…”

“Piyali,” he held her hands as she passed by him and stopped her.

“Why did you give me hope?” she asked. Her face was deadly pale and containing her emotions took so much effort on her part that she was physically tired and panting. “I may not have had much in life. But even I am not immune to dreaming, hoping and loving. I will sign this, don’t worry, but why did you give me hope?” She was complaining to him. For the first time!

“Let me explain, Piyali. I wasn’t sure about what I was feeling. I still am not. I just thought that because Alka left, I was… It may not be right for you…”

“She left. Yes… And you have needs,” she recalled Alka’s words and spouted them, “And you know what! You could have just told me that. Piyali – I don’t think our relationship has any future. But I have needs. And I need you in my bed. And I would have come. Without hesitating. Because my morals are defined by you, Mukundo Babu. Everything else I have left behind.”

That infuriated Mukundo. “That’s enough, Piyali. Shut up. Don’t speak another word like this,” he hissed as his grip around her wrists tightened.

“Why not?” she was defiant, despite her wrist starting to hurt.

“Because…” he began to give a heated reply, but suddenly stopped. What was happening to him? To them? How could there be so much distrust between them? He suddenly felt very tired. And helpless. His tone change completely. “How could you say that, Piyali? After all these years… do you really think I could do something so abominable to you?” He released her hands.

His sad and disappointed voice brought her back to her senses as well. She realized the enormity of what she had said.  Indeed! How could she have said something like that? To a man who had thought of nothing but her well-being all these years? Regret washed over her face as she stopped meeting his eyes and looked down. “Please forgive me,” she said in a quivering voice, “I don’t know what had come over me. Punish me whichever way you want, but please don’t take what I said to heart.”

When he didn’t reply for a few moments, still hurt by her earlier accusation, she grew desperate and fell on her knees before him. “Please forgive me,” silent tears started flowing from her eyes.

“What the hell,” he was startled out of his stupor. He stepped back instinctively, “What are you doing, you stupid girl. Get up. For God’s sake, get up.”

“Please forgive me,” she folded her hands and was openly sobbing now. Second time in the day. Second time in all these years.

—

To be continued

Did that explain all his peculiarities? Piyali thought later, when she was alone. Despite being this nice, principled, kind and lovable person, whom everyone liked, he was inherently insecure. Because of Aporna’s deceit. Something he had never been able to deal with. When he came to know about it, she was already gone and he could not confront her. To top that, being the thoughtful person he was, he didn’t even want to tell anyone about it. It won’t do to badmouth the dead! There had been no catharsis for his most deep-seated pain.

Knowing this, it wasn’t surprising that he shied away from relationships, especially marriage. He could have claimed that he loved his wife too much to move on. But that would have been a lie, a difficult one to maintain given that all he probably felt for her was hatred. And because he couldn’t express his real insecurities, he disguised his decision behind this façade of waiting for a soul-mate.

It was a hypothesis. A plausible one, she thought, but was it correct? If so, could she do something about it?

—

What the hell! He woke up and felt strange. Why was he dreaming about her? And in such a fashion? He sat up, switched on the light and took a sip from the water glass. He could no longer ignore it. He had been obsessing over her for a while now. She was now very different from the scared, mousy child widow he had brought home. Eating well and living in comfort had filled her body up at just the right places. She dressed well, had a confident demeanor, sweet temperament and beautiful, lovely face. “I hadn’t thought that I’d be telling you this, when  you had brought her home, Mukundo,” Alka had told him before leaving, “After all, there was no knowing what she’d grow into. She might have proved herself to be uncouth, stupid and unwilling to learn. She might have grown vain or irritable. She might not have had the strength to become what you wanted her to become. But none of that happened. She has grown into exactly the woman you can love.” He jerked himself out of his wayward thoughts. That’s the problem, he decided. Alka has left. My hormones are playing a trick on my mind. He picked out the divorce papers from the drawer of his side-table. No more procrastination. He would do it tomorrow. She must be freed before she fell prey to his weaknesses and her devotion which won’t let her protest.

—

“What are you reading?” Mukundo found her at the desk in the library and could already guess what she would be reading. But he asked anyway.

“Your manuscript. I hope that’s all right.” It was the manuscript which he was hoping to complete in Uttarpara. His first attempt at writing a fiction. He had thought he’d need to get away from his familiar surroundings to get inspiration. But nothing worked out as planned! His vacation was interrupted. And after coming back, he hadn’t felt motivated to pick that manuscript up again. He had been busy with his academic writing. After Alka left, he felt the need to take up something else. He recalled the neglected manuscript and restarted working on it. Now, it seemed to be heading somewhere.

“Yeah. What do you think?”

“Your observations are… spot on…”

“But?”

“No ‘but’.”

“There was a ‘but’.  I could feel it. Come on. Tell me.”

“Your observations are spot on. But you have put your own words in your character’s mouth.” He had reached near her now. He kept the papers he had brought with him on the desk.

“How so?”

“For example this one. Where Soumitra thinks that his comeback is irrational and stupid, but he has always heard people using that comeback to win arguments. So, he uses it anyway. Soumitra is not capable of such objective observations about his surroundings. It is true that his comeback is irrational and stupid. It is true that he uses it only because he has always heard people use it to win arguments. But he can’t connect the two. He uses that comeback almost mechanically. You know the way you always pick up the water glass from your room, but deposit it in the kitchen sink, mechanically.”

“I do that?”

“Yes. You didn’t even know?”

“No. And you did?”

She nodded. He looked at her with expressions she couldn’t read. Then before she knew what happened, he dug his right hand into the hair at the back of her head, pulled her close and attacked her lips. She was baffled. She couldn’t respond or react. He let go soon and then looked miserable. She progressed in other direction. She grew collected and a slight smile formed on her lips as it started making sense.

“Oh God!” he mumbled, “I’m sorry…”

“Sorry?”

“Look. Don’t be scared. I was… I don’t know… It won’t happen again…”

“Scared? Don’t be an idiot, Mukundo Babu.”

It was Mukundo’s turn to be startled. Idiot? That frankness, and sauciness, was not something he had ever seen in her. She smiled and moved away. He stood rooted to his place for a while, completely stupefied. By his own abrupt behavior, and by her calm reaction to it. Then he rushed after her.

“Wait Piyali.”

She was at the door by then. She stopped immediately and turned. She looked serene, and in control.

“What did you mean?” he asked somewhat foolishly.

“Why were you sorry? I am your wife,” she replied with downcast eyes, but confident voice.

“My wife?”

She shrugged. Wasn’t it obvious?

“And you are okay with that?” he asked finally getting his bearings together.

For the first time she showed any signs of being upset, “You think I am not okay with that? Why?”

“You had no say in our so called marriage. Nobody had asked you. And I can’t even be sure if you were old enough to legally say ‘yes’. You were so young. You still are… Do you even know how much older I am… You shouldn’t get carried away just because you are grateful…”

He stopped as he saw her eyes getting moist. He waited for her to recover. She blinked back her tears and broke the silence. “Alka didi had told me that you would never accept me if I kept worshipping you. Your soul-mate has to be an equal, she had said. She was right. She had said that I should be my rational self with you. I can be so Mukundo Babu. But will it stop me from worshipping you? I’m afraid that is not going to happen. Even loving you cannot stop me from worshipping you. Even if that means losing you. Or rather… Never getting you. What do I have which I will lose?” She ran away from there, leaving Mukundo confounded.

Things had indeed changed! She wasn’t the terrified, confused kid he had brought away from her oppressive paternal home. She was a grown up woman, who knew her mind. Better than he did his own. She knew what and whom she wanted. She knew what she could or could not do. She had proved him more than right. She had grown up to be independent. She wouldn’t let anyone walk over her. Not even him. She was confident about whatever she was. Even about her worshipping him. She wouldn’t forsake it even for him! “Even if that means losing you. Or rather… Never getting you.” Those words would remain vivid in his memory for years to come!

—

To be continued

“Was he angry?” Alka asked anxiously, when this incident came up in their conversation.

“No. But… You shouldn’t… I mean, needn’t have told him. He was unnecessarily anxious. Why did you do that?”

Alka smiled, “I think for the good of the two of you.”

Piyali frowned and did not reply. Alka spoke again, “Don’t be bothered about me, Piyali. I am leaving Kolkata soon.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t stay anywhere for long. That’s how I am. Somehow, it has been almost six years here. Longer than any other place. It feels unreal. I have an offer from Delhi University…”

“Does he know?” she asked anxiously.

“Not yet. I will tell him.”

“He will… he will be heart-broken. Why are you going?” Between them, this was first open acknowledgement of Alka’s and Mukundo’s relationship.

“Don’t worry…”

“Is it because of me? Did I come between you two?”

“Good you asked, Piyali,” Alka sighed, “The answer is no. You didn’t come between us. Because there was nothing which you could come in between.”

“Let’s not pretend today, Didi,” Piyali said miserably, “This marriage means nothing to him. And I don’t, I can’t expect it to mean anything. I already owe him my life for what he has done for him. I don’t need anything more.”

“Don’t you love him Piyali?”

“Like a devotee loves his God.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Most devotees don’t have a problem in getting married to normal mortals despite their love for God. Would you get married to someone else?”

Piyali was startled. An explanation dawned on her. Why hadn’t she thought of it earlier? “Is that your problem? That I am married to him?”

“Would you get married to someone else? That is my question. I don’t have any problems.”

Her voice trembled, “I don’t think so. But if he would let me, I’d go away. Don’t leave him because of me, Didi. If he is unhappy…”

“Piyali! Listen to me very carefully. I know it might be hard to believe. But ours is a relationship of convenience. Even Gods have needs. Physical needs. Your Mukundo Babu has that too. And so do I. We don’t have an emotional connect. We are not lovers and my going away is not going to give him any emotional scars. Do you understand?”

Piyali stared at her in astonishment.

“We’d be miserable if we married,” Alka added in softer tone, “I’m a free bird. I have been in ten cities since I began my career. And he? If he could afford it, he wouldn’t take a single step out of Kolkata. But it doesn’t show any stability on his part. I’d go mad at the kind of things he does. He had sold off a car within two months of buying it because it got a little scratch. Getting it repainted won’t do for him. He would not attend a party given by a colleague because he cracks sexist jokes. How is one to explain it to all the friends and colleagues? And yes. The one time he stepped out of Kolkata, he came back married! To you. I mean, seriously? Is that how people get married? How he reached Darjeeling, you already know. He did that despite knowing that there was blockage and there were no casualties. A year ago, when I had asked him to come there with me, he had refused. I had gone alone.”

Piyali was still silent. It had all been a revelation and difficult to digest. Then a questioned popped up in her mind. “That’s how you think. But what about him?”

“He thinks the same way, Piyali. I you don’t believe me, ask Mahendra.”

Piyali recalled some of Mukundo’s conversations with Mahendra. And it fitted in with what Alka was trying to convince her of.

“Why didn’t he marry, Alka Didi? Surely, he would have found someone with whom…”

“He was married once. You didn’t know?”

“No. To whom?” Piyali was surprised.

“I think her name was Aporna. She died in an accident. It has been a while.”

“Ohh!” Piyali was thoughtful. How come there was nothing in the house that hinted of him being married once? Their marriage was not planned. He couldn’t have removed earlier photos or other artifacts because of that!

“And since then he thinks he’d marry only when he finds his soul-mate. He won’t try to find someone or get married. Apparently we mortals can’t do match-making. I don’t know how that fits in with his usual atheism and rationalism. But that’s how he is.” Piyali also wondered about that. It didn’t fit his beliefs at all.

“Did he love her so much that he could not get married again?” she asked more as a way of carrying on the conversation than out of actual curiosity.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”

“Me?” she was startled, “No. How can I ask?”

“Why not? It’s not like he is going to scold you.”

“No. But…”

“At worst, he would refuse to talk. Are you so egoistic that you can’t tolerate that?”

This made Piyali laugh, “Egoistic? Before him? You couldn’t have thought of a funnier joke, Didi.”

“I have an advice for you,” Alka said sincerely.

“What is it?”

“Listen carefully…”

—

Mukundo seemed more relaxed than usual after Alka left. At least there were no signs of distress. Given that Alka was right on that count, Piyali decided to put more faith in other things she had suggested. She decided to ask him about Aporna.

“Mukundo Babu?” They were in the library on a Sunday afternoon.

“Yes?” he noticed her nervous countenance. What was up with her?

“Can I ask you something? If you don’t want to answer, just say so. I won’t insist. But don’t be angry.”

“Stop beating around the bush, Piyali. Tell me. What is bothering you?”

“You never told me that you were married once. Your wife… How did she die?”

Mukundo was startled. He kept the book he was holding aside. Piyali wringed her hands nervously, as he appeared lost in thoughts.

“Who told you about her?” he finally asked.

“Nobody told me. Alka Didi had just mentioned it once. If you don’t want to…”

“What do you want to know?”

“I… I don’t know… Actually I was surprised that I never realized this earlier. There are no signs in the house… Did you live elsewhere?”

Mukundo took a deep breath. “No,” he said, “We lived in the same house. Pull up the chair. I will tell you everything.”

The match was arranged by Mukundo’s mother, who died soon after their marriage from her illness. Mukundo and Aporna met each other, like each other well enough and said ‘yes’ to the marriage. Life was good. No major ups, no major downs. The accident happened about three years after  their marriage. A road accident. It killed her. He had not believed the news at first. The accident had happened in an area she had no reason for going. The bodies were badly mutilated. There must have been some mistake. He was expecting her to walk back into the house anytime. But she didn’t walk in. Postmortem and DNA reports confirmed her identity. And then the mystery of her presence there unveiled as police investigated the incident. She was having an affair. With a classmate from college. The neighbors in that area had seen them together for at least two years now. Some even believed them to be married.

It was a double whammy for him. Should he mourn the loss of his wife, or loss of her faithfulness? But there was nothing he could do, except to go on with life. He suppressed the story of her infidelity as much as possible. He didn’t tell any relatives. Despite his best efforts, the information did reach her parents in the course of police investigation. Their situation on learning this was similar to his. They didn’t know what to mourn about.

“Nobody else knows?” she asked gently.

He shook his head.

“Alka Didi?”

He frowned as he replied, “No. Why should she?”

—

To be continued

Mukundo sprang out of the sofa as he heard the news. Alka was in the kitchen making tea, while he was watching TV in her living room.

“Alka!”

“What happened?” she came out on hearing his panicked cry.

“There has been a landslide near Darjeeling.”

“Ohh!” she understood his alarm. Piyali had gone to Darjeeling on a college trip.

“I am leaving,” he announced.

“Where for?”

“Darjeeling.”

“What? Wait. Do we even know the details…”

But he did not wait and almost ran out of her apartment. She turned her attention towards the news report being telecasted. She called him after half an hour.

“They are repeatedly saying that there are no casualties, Mukundo. In a day or two, the road route will be reconnected and everyone will be back.”

“I can’t reach her on phone.”

“That is always the case when something like this happens. I am sure she is fine.”

“I will talk to you later. I have to catch a flight in an hour.”

“Flight? To?”

“Bagdogra.”

“From there you still have to take a road. And the road is blocked, Mukundo.”

“I can’t just sit here. Bye.”

—

Mukundo found a hotel as close to the blockage as possible and practically stayed parked exactly where the road was blocked. They didn’t let anyone pass through that day. They will still clearing and repairing the road. It was dangerous. Early next morning, pedestrians were allowed. The place was still too far from Darjeeling. So, it was useful only for those who stayed nearby and were stranded away from home. But Mukundo left his rented vehicle at the hotel and walked on with as much cash as he could carry. He hitchhiked, took lifts or paid for transportation by any means possible, without bothering about his security. On reaching Darjeeling, he headed straight to the hotel where he knew her group was staying.

“Mukundo Babu!” Piyali was surprised beyond imagination, “How did you reach here? And so soon?”

He surprised her even further, when instead of replying, he went ahead and hugged her. “Thank God, you are safe.”

“Yes. I am fine. Calm down,” she could feel how anxious he was. What else could inspire someone to reach there in such a short time and under such impossible circumstances?

“Your phone was unreachable.”

“Everybody’s is. Even hotel landline was not working. Else I would have informed you. I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Not your fault,” he was finally relaxing.

“How did you come? They said blockage was still there.”

“You will find out as we go back. We will leave immediately. I don’t want to risk staying for another landslide. Pack up. Meanwhile I will find a taxi that can take us till the blockage.”

—

They took a taxi till the blockage, crossed it on feet, picked up his rented vehicle from the hotel on the other side, drove to Bagdogra and took the first flight back to Kolkata. He toyed with the divorce papers again at the night.

Soon! He decided yet again.

—

“She worships you, Mukundo,” Alka told him.

“And I am not a God.”

“Right. But my guess is that if it came to that, you would protect her with your life.”

“That’s your reading of my impulsive nature. Yes – I am like that.”

“Mukundo. I am serious. It is not unthinkable, you know. You and her…”

“What the hell! Has Mahendra corrupted your mind or something? Yes – she worships me. She is so grateful to me that… that if I ask her to go back to the same hell where she came from, she would do even that. For my sake. But it doesn’t mean that she and I… Even if everything else can be kept aside, our age-gap is too big Alka. It doesn’t make sense. And the reason I had brought her here was so that she can have a dignified life. She should be able to make her own choices in life. That marriage was not her choice.”

“Do you know what she told the neighbor who questioned her about your relationship…”

“Why is anyone questioning her about our relationship? If anyone is, I’d take care of it.”

Alka sighed. He was in no mood to listen. “All right. Forget it. Why am I wasting the little time that we have. With these exams and all…” She tried to kiss him, but he stopped her.

“Not now, Alka. I am not in mood. I am going home.” He got up from the bed abruptly and left.

Alka was not surprised. The psychologist was not able to see for himself that he was in denial! He had been distant for a while now. And as someone who had grown to know him intimately, she knew the reason very well. That fool was in love with his wife, and not able to accept it. And with a wife, who would lay her life if he gave the least indication that that’s what he wanted! He didn’t realize how much of his time and life revolved around her and how much he talked about her. How obsessively he tried to know about her small, little needs and fulfill them! How were her studies going? Did she manage to buy all her books? Was her library subscription expiring? How would she go to college? Could Alka check with her if she needed to go shopping? He didn’t know what she liked to eat and she never told him anything. Did their TV subscription have all the channels she wanted to watch? Was she finally able to make friends in college? Was she making the right kind of friends? And now, was she being troubled by the neighbors?

For the last one, Alka would have some explanation to do before Piyali when she met her next.

—

“You have been having trouble with neighbors?” She was back from college, when he reached home. And he lost no time in questioning her.

“Trouble? What trouble?”

“Someone asked you something? About me, about us?”

Piyali was surprised; and felt betrayed. Why would Alka go and tell him about it? It was an unspoken understanding between them that they didn’t talk about Mukundo and whatever was discussed between them didn’t reach him.

She decided to tell him that. “That was a long time ago, Mukundo Babu. And nothing happened that you should be angry about. I didn’t say anything…”

“What did you say?”

She fell silent.

“I am asking you something. What did you say?” he was annoyed.

“Why are you being so insistent?” she asked gently, and somewhat nervously.

“Why? Because I have brought you here. Nobody has a right to question that. And if you are facing a problem, I should know. I expect you to tell me.”

“There is no problem, Mukundo Babu. It was a long time ago and I gave her a reply that silenced her forever.”

“What did you say?” he repeated his earlier question.

She gulped and averted her eyes. She spoke slowly, weighing each word, “I told her that you were like The One after whom you were named. Lord Krishna. He married sixteen thousand queens, to save them from society’s cruel insinuations. That didn’t make his character questionable. Rather it made him the God. Unless she thought she was great enough to question Lord Krishna’s character, she had no right of questioning yours.”

Mukundo stared at her in astonishment. Two conflicting feelings were clamoring for his acceptance. The first one didn’t like this entire “marrying women to save them from society” idea. It was so utterly regressive and it established women as someone who could not have an identity separate from men. He hoped that Piyali did not believe that. But the second feeling was that of… It took him a few moments to identify it. It was a feeling of pride. She had silenced the woman in the best possible way. A comeback that she would have had no answer to!

“I know you find the idea regressive,” Piyali started explaining after a pause, because she was worried about his reaction, “And I agree with you. It was just…”

“It was a witty answer,” he interrupted with a smile to assure her, “Well done!”

Piyali thought her heart would literally swell with pride. He appreciated her!

“And you are right. I find the idea too regressive. I acted on it amongst people who were regressive. But you shouldn’t try to live your life with those standards. I am no Lord Krishna and…”

“I know. You want me to become independent. I want so too. And I will do it.”

“Good!”

—

To be continued

Mukundo gave her generous amounts of pocket money. “What will I do with it?” she would often protest.

“Save it, if you can’t spend it. But if you need something, you shouldn’t have to wait for me.”

Alka took her to shopping malls and theaters. They often went to book stores. It was in one of the trips to bookstores that she stumbled upon one of the Mills & Boons stories. After that she went to the bookstore on her own too and bought dozens of them with her pocket money. While Alka was introducing her to English literature and she was thoroughly enjoying the process, she also felt a thrill in using her newly learned language skills to read those steamy romances. Each of them was her own story. She had a knight in shining armor in Mukundo. He had rescued the damsel in distress. And she loved him with her heart and soul, even if he did not understand it. The only thing missing in her story was that… there was none of that irresistible sexual attraction. Not on his part anyway. The kind that brought those Mills & Boons heroes back to the heroines, despite all the misunderstandings and outward hatred. ‘That is unrealistic,’ she would remind herself time and again. She would think of Alka. So beautiful, intelligent, educated, classy, mature. His equal. She stood no chance.

And yet sometimes, she dreamt…

—

Mukundo was surprised. He had come back at his usual time, but Piyali was not in the hall. Usually she waited for him there with tea and snacks. He asked Sonelal about her. She was in the TV room. He went there. The door was open. Piyali was sitting on the sofa with her legs perched up. Her hands were around her knees, while her chin rested between them. She was deeply engrossed in whatever was being telecast on TV.  Curious, his eyes darted towards the television screen. There was a romantic Hindi song in the background and an intimate scene between a young couple was on. He looked back at Piyali. She was as good as hypnotized. He smiled patronizingly and shook his head. She WAS a kid! Trying to grow up.

He went to freshen up and came back to the hall for tea. She had also reached there by then.

“I didn’t realize when you came in,” she said with some embarrassment.

“You were engrossed in TV.”

She flushed, “I watch that show. I had missed last night. So, I was watching the repeat telecast.”

“Hmm…” He didn’t say anything. But he knew that she had gone to watch TV last night at her usual time. She hadn’t missed the episode. She was watching it again!

—

That night he thought about her for a long time. How glued she was to the TV that evening. It was obvious why she was watching the repeat telecast. The scene on the show had caught her fancy. A perfectly natural thing to happen at her age. There was only one glitch. Her life had been anything but natural. Her studies were keeping her occupied, but sooner or later she would be done with it. She should live a normal life after that. That would mean a job, a home, and… marriage. But she was legally wedded to him. So, she’d have to be legally divorced. But when should he do it? It wasn’t needed right now. Plus if he dissolved the marriage right now, her staying in his house would unnecessarily become scandalous. In good time, he thought. No sexual relationship and “incompatibility” should be good enough reasons to get a divorce quickly by mutual consent. But he made a mental note to check with a lawyer and have the papers ready well in advance.

—

In three years, she completed her 10^th and 12^th exams from National Open School. Her progress was incredibly fast.

She blushed hard when he congratulated her for that. “What do I have to do the entire day except study? It is hardly an achievement.”

“It is a big feat, Piyali. You should be proud of yourself.”

She would have liked to ask if he was proud of her. But she couldn’t.

“You have scored good marks. If you want, you could join a regular college for under-graduation.”

“Can I?”

“Why not?”

“I would be older than everyone there.”

“Not so much. And how does it matter? There is no age for getting educated. School admission would have been difficult. So, open school was better. And you made the best use of it. By finishing everything so quickly. There is no reason you should miss out on college experience.”

She smiled gratefully and nodded.

“What do you want to study?”

“English literature. And psychology,” she said with slight hesitation.

“Good,” he said. He didn’t notice that she had chosen his and Alka’s subjects. At least he didn’t comment on it.

The next day he got the divorce papers prepared. At right time, he would discuss it with her. It would be awkward. But everything about their relationship was awkward. That they continued to live their life comfortably together was the surprising part.

—

Mukundo gasped as he looked up. He was waiting for Piyali at the breakfast table. After that they were to go to buy books for her first year college syllabus. And she walked in! Piyali stopped in her tracks for a while as she saw him staring. He recovered and averted his eyes. He must have unsettled her. But he was himself so unsettled. What was it today that made her look so different? And hot, he had to admit for want of a less suggestive word. Then he looked up again, with a more normal expression in his eyes. In the meantime, she had reached the table.

“Alka didi gifted it to me,” she explained her dress. It was nothing extra-ordinary. A simple pink, cotton salwaar kameez. But he had always seen her in sarees and it stood out. “She said nobody wears sarees in colleges these days.”

“She is right,” Mukundo had found his bearings back, “And it suits you. You look unnecessarily old in sarees.”

“Do you like it?”

Mukundo hesitated for a moment. Was she asking for his permission? Probably just approval. He should stop over-analyzing her behavior all the time. “Yes,” he said and she was satisfied.

“You will need more of these if you have to wear them to college,” he said as they ate the breakfast. They used cutlery at the table now. Alka had taught her how to use them.

“I have four. Should be enough.”

“Let’s buy some more after we have finished with book purchases. Today I am not going to the university anyway,” he said.

It was a decision, not a suggestion. He didn’t do that very often. So, she didn’t even try to object.

—

He toyed with the divorce papers as he sat sprawled on his bed that night. He had decided to talk about it to her that day. But he couldn’t. What went wrong? Was what he had felt at the breakfast table the reason? What had he felt anyway? Nothing. He was over-thinking it. It was just awkward talking about divorce. It was natural to be unwilling to go through it. But he wasn’t running out of time. He’d do it. Sometime soon.

—

To be continued

“What are these, Mukundo Babu?” Piyali was surprised when he tried to hand her several shopping bags that evening.

“Some sarees for you.”

“Oh! But I don’t need them. I already have…”

“Yeah. About them. Please stop wearing white. You are too young for that.”

She was startled. Then she looked away. Mukundo suspected that her eyes were getting moist. She took the bags from him without saying anything or meeting his eyes. Mukundo decided to leave her alone and made to go away. But she stopped him.

“Mukundo Babu,” she called him, “I wanted to ask you for something.”This act of him giving her sarees seemed to have introduced some familiarity between them and she had found the courage to talk to him.

“Tell me.”

“I have nothing to do here all day. You have so many servants. You don’t need them. I can do the housework.”

His smiled, “Let’s talk at the dinner table.”

—

Fish was served for the first time since their return form Uttarpara. Piyali, wearing one of her new sarees, a pale blue one, eyed the dish curiously. He scooped some out in a bowl, but instead of taking it himself, he passed it to her. “You like fish, don’t you?”

Her lips quivered. “I have forgotten what it tastes like.”

“Take it, then. It tastes good.”

She looked hesitant.

“Eat it Piyali. There is nothing wrong, nothing to worry about.”

Her hands were trembling as she mixed some curry with her rice and took the first bite.

“Is it good?”

She smiled nervously and nodded in reply.

“Great. Let me take some too.”

“So, are you settled in? Comfortable here?” he asked when they were almost done with dinner.

“Yes, I am,” she replied in a low, but sure voice.

“Don’t mind my questions. I just want to know about you. Have you gone to school?”

“Long back. Till class fifth.”

“So, you can read and write? Bengali?”

She nodded.

“English?”

“A bit.”

“Hmm…”

“I am not educated…” she said in a nervous, self-reproaching tone.

“But you can be.”

“How? It’s too late…”

“No, it isn’t. If you have the will… Do you want to study?”

“I… I don’t know,” she stuttered, “Should I?”

He sighed, “I’d prefer if you decide for yourself. But until you start doing that, yes. I think you should.”

“I can’t go to school now.”

“There are other ways. There are open schools, where you can give exams. And we can have a tutor for you.”

“Tutor? That would be too expensive.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

She looked down and played with her food as she spoke slowly, “I’d like to study. I like reading. Back in Uttarpara, I often picked up books and magazines when no one was around and read them.”

Mukundo was pleasantly surprised, “You did? What did you used to read?”

She told him the names of some novels by Tagore and Sarat Chandra and some Bengali magazines.

“That’s impressive.”

She blushed.

He took her to his library after dinner. “Those shelves all have Bengali books. You can read whatever you want.”

She stared wide-eyed at the library. “There are so many books here.”

He laughed, “You are at a professor’s house. That is the least you should expect.”

“Right,” she mumbled absent-mindedly still trying to get used to the idea of having so many books at one place.

“I hope you won’t get bored now?”

She smiled nervously, “No.”

“Great. I will leave you with the books then, until you feel sleepy. We will soon find good tutors for you and then you will have your hands full with studies.”

“Mukundo Babu,” she stopped him.

“Yes?”

“How will I ever pay you back for this?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment; then spoke in a deep, profound voice, “I did what I did with you because I believe that nobody, no human being should be robbed of his or her basic dignity. Even if one gets used to being trampled around, like you probably had, it doesn’t make it right. So, despite knowing that it would upset your life the way you had known it all these years, despite knowing that it may not be comfortable, and despite knowing that even if you disagreed you won’t be able to voice your disagreement, I took the risk and brought you away from there; because, to me, maintaining the dignity of individuals is society’s responsibility. So, I poked my nose in what shouldn’t have been my affair. If you think that I did the right thing, then you have to prove me right. Study well, become independent, take control of your life, your dreams, and most importantly, become a person who nobody can take for granted, who would not let anybody walk over her, ever.”

Piyali felt something inexplicable, something that made her entire being tremble. She couldn’t have given words to it. She had read Tagore’s play “The Dancing Girl’s Worship”. Was this how the dancing girl felt in Buddha’s presence? She would wonder for a long time to come.

—

“How are the studies going?” Mukundo asked. They usually caught up with each other during dinner.

“I am struggling with English.”

“Your English tutor told me that you know enough for your class 10^th exam.”

“But I want to be fluent.”

“What for? It is just another language. It’s not like you have to be fluent in English to prove yourself,” he wanted to make sure that she didn’t develop an inferiority complex. Given her background, mastering English would not be easy for her.

“I want to learn better because I want to read more in English.”

“Why? Are you already out of Bengali books?” he chuckled.  There was nothing wrong in her wanting to learn and read in English. But he was curious about her reasons; so he continued prodding.

“No. They are different.”

“They are. But how so?”

“They are… They talk about things that are different from what I know about, what I identify with.”

“Why would you want to read things you do not identify with?”

“Because… I sometimes identify so much with Sharat Chandra’s heroines that I feel depressed. I would like to believe that the world can be different.”

He sighed, “You are not like them now, I hope.”

“No. No,” she figured that she might have alarmed him, “Don’t get me wrong, Mukundo Babu. That’s not what I meant at all. I was thinking of what I was and what I would have been had you not landed in Uttarpara then…”

“Yeah. Don’t worry,” he smiled in assurance, “And I think it is really good that you are motivated to read English. Whether our nationalist sentiment is pleased or not, it is the international language and being fluent in it opens up several doors. I know someone who can help you.”

And that’s how she was introduced to Alka.

“My colleague at university,” Mukundo introduced her when he brought her home the next evening, “Professor of English, who also moonlights as communication trainer. You can’t have a better teacher.”

Piyali smiled nervously. She had overheard Mahendra’s and Mukundo’s conversations once in a while. Mahendra would not stop lamenting about how Mukundo’s and Alka’s relationship was not right. Piyali had to suppress pangs of jealousy. He was her savior; this marriage was just a means of saving her. She didn’t have any rights on him. It was presumptuous of her to feel jealous. But she hadn’t expected that he would bring her home.

Piyali folded her hands in greetings. Alka smiled kindly at her and that surprised her. Did Alka not feel jealous? Insecure? Or was Piyali so insignificant in Mukundo’s life that she didn’t see any reasons for jealousy?

Alka won her over with time. They did not talk about either of their relationships with Mukundo. But they did talk about everything else. It was an unusual friendship, but one that grew to be strong. She became not just her English, but also the lifestyle tutor. Piyali didn’t have many other opportunities to make friends. She was on speaking term with the neighbors, but her strange relationship with Mukundo was difficult to explain to people. So, she could never make any close friends.

—

To be continued

Dinner was done with. Mukundo had instructed Sonelal to not cook fish, or put any onion or garlic in the food. As a widow she hadn’t been eating those for eight years. He didn’t want to introduce a sudden change. On dinner table, she had worn one of her older sarees. Almost white. Thankfully she did have some glass bangles, a bindi and sindoor on her. It made her looks slightly different from how he had seen her in her village. She hardly ate. Mukundo didn’t use the cutlery and ate with his hands to ensure that she did not feel out of place. But there was still enough of novelty around to make her feel uncomfortable. He realized that she was not used to eating in company. She probably ate alone, in some corner of kitchen every day. And probably even the suhaagan women in her society didn’t eat with men. He wondered for a while, if he should ask her to take food to her room. But he decided against it. Even if it was uncomfortable for her to begin with, he did not want to set a precedent for a practice that was so regressive and unacceptable.

He tossed and turned in the bed as the events from the last couple of days replayed in his mind.

“What is wrong with you, Mukundo? You are going to marry that girl?” Mahendra was incredulous.

“Hmm…” He was preoccupied with his own thoughts.

“Hmm? Have you wondered how Alka will react?”

That got Mahendra his attention, “Alka? What has it got to do with Alka?”

“It has got nothing to do with Alka? She is not your girlfriend? You are not sleeping with her?”

“We are not in a romantic relationship, Mahendra.”

“Ah! You think so Prof. Thakur. Women in our society do not sleep with men they are not in love with.”

“What a progressive image you have of women in our society,” Mukundo had chuckled.

“I can’t believe it. You are finding it all funny?”

“No. I am not. Mahendra, I hadn’t planned on marrying a village-belle. I had come here in summers to be able to work on my novel. But my own life now seems to be becoming a novel.”

“You talk like you don’t have a role to play in it.”

“All I am saying is that it is not comfortable for me either. But it won’t do to panic about it.”

“It would do very well to pack your bags and run away at night from this wretched place.”

“And how do you think will it affect Piyali?”

“Why? She is head over heels in love with you, or what?”

“She is too scared to feel any other emotions. And these people will eat her up alive. I can’t run away now.”

“It’s not like these people believe in widows marrying.”

“Her step-mother is very happy at the prospect of getting rid of her. If that hope is snatched away from her, she won’t be kind to her.”

“She hasn’t been kind to her till now either.”

“Precisely why I had to come to her defense. When she started off before me, I could not withhold.”

“So, what exactly happened? She started scolding Piyali and you came forward like a knight in shining armor to take her away?”

“No. It was less heroic than that. I tried to reason with her that Piyali was only helping me with some housework, and nothing was going on about which she needed to panic. But she wanted me to shut up as  it was their family matter.”

“And?”

“And I said that any civilized person cannot silently witness an innocent girl being treated like that. She was amused that I found a widow to be innocent. Innocent women didn’t get widowed so early. And if she was so innocent, was I going to marry her? If not, then I should hold my tongue, because she belongs to her family. They can do with her whatever  they please.”

“And you said that you were going to marry her.”

Mukundo sighed, “Yes!”

“What are you? Rajnikanth?”

“It is ridiculous. But it has happened.”

“So, you are going to marry her?”

“Yes.”

Mahendra threw his hands up in despair.

—

“Whoa! Mukundo. You are joking, right?” Alka was incredulous.

“I’m not. You can ask Mahendra.”

“And that is exactly how you got around to marrying? Because you said you would – in the spur of the moment.”

“So, it is!”

“I know you don’t like it that I am so realistic. But this… This is foolish by most people’s standards.”

“I know. This is foolish by even my standards. But I couldn’t back out. She would have been miserable.”

“Wow! And what do you plan to do with her?”

“Give her a dignified life. And try to make her independent.”

“And that’s what she wants?”

“I don’t know. I can only introduce her to a different life. If she likes it, she’d get it.”

“And if she doesn’t like it?”

“She is my wife. She is secure. She will get everything she deserves.”

“Including the right to no adultery by her husband?”

“Oh! Come on, Alka. I’m not… She is a kid. A traumatized kid.”

“She won’t always remain so.”

“If she does grow up, she’d know what is good for her.”

“Great then. I have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m no closer to finding my soul-mate. Unless you are…”

“Nope. I don’t believe in soul-mates. Realist, remember?” She laughed and put her arms around his neck.

—

“How the hell do you manage to do that?” Mahendra asked at the university.

“Manage to do what?”

“Dismiss people and their questions.”

“Because I genuinely believe that others have no business poking nose in my business. I am free to marry whosoever I want and I don’t have to explain it to anybody.”

Mahendra shook his head; then asked after a pause, “How is she doing? Piyali?”

That drew a sincere reply from Mukundo, “I don’t know. But I think she is adjusting.”

“What is your plan?”

“I have a goal. To give her a dignified life. I have no plans.”

“And you think it is dignifying for her that her husband sleeps around with other women?”

“Her dignity has been tied for too long with a husband. I think it is high time that it be dissociated and she starts living her own life.”

“Alka is right. Even the dreamiest people would appear realist compared to you.”

“Name the devil, and the devil is here,” Mukundo laughed as Alka entered the room.

“Who is calling whom devil?”

“I have to go home. I will leave you two to deal with devilishness. Good night.”

“Alka. I need your help,” Mukundo said after Mahendra left.

“Tell me my prince charming.”

“I need you to buy some clothes… sarees actually for Piyali.”

“Why?”

“She only seems to have white sarees. It’s depressing. And I don’t think she’d be comfortable shopping around in Kolkata yet.”

“Okay. Then why only sarees? I can get her some other dresses as well. Probably some salwar-kameez.”

“That’d need her to be there for the correct measurements etc. I don’t know if she would be comfortable.”

“I can take her shopping. Introduce me to her.”

“Not yet. You will overwhelm her. For now, just the sarees.”

“Okay boss!”

“And don’t buy white please. Not necessarily all bright, but must have some color.”

“Sure thing.”

—

To be continued

Mahendra decided not to stay on. Mukundo asked the driver to drop him home. Sonelal looked confused as he saw a saree and sindoor-clad Piyali getting down from back seat of the car. Piyali herself was bewildered. Mukundo knew that awkwardness was going to be his constant companion from now on. So, he decided to face it.

“She is Piyali,” he introduced her to Sonelal, “She is from Uttarpara. She will live with us now.” Sonelal nodded still looking confused. Why would a woman from Uttarpara live with them? Mukundo added after struggling with words for a while, “Actually… We got married last night.”

“Who? Who got married, Dada?” Sonelal asked in astonishment.

“We. Me and Piyali. Now close your mouth and take the luggage.”

“Right… Right Dada.” It made no sense to Sonelal. Mukundo Thakur getting married? Just like that? To some random woman from Uttarpara? He saw Piyali taking out a bag from the car.

“Let it be Boudi,” he hastened to take it from her, “I will carry it.”

“That’s… that’s okay…” she spoke nervously. She didn’t belong here! Servants were not there to serve her. She herself was one of them… She didn’t know what to do?  In confusion she looked at Mukundo.

“Let him take it,” he said understanding her confusion. They walked inside and waited in his room while Sonelal carried and deposited both their bags in the room.

“Shall I bring some tea? Or will you directly have dinner?” Sonelal asked before leaving the room.

“I will let you know,” Mukundo said and dismissed him. Then he turned to Piyali, “It’s quite late. You must be tired. Change into something comfortable. Then we can have tea or dinner as you like.”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but was unable to gather courage. “What is it?” he asked, “You want to say something?”

“No… Yes… I… I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“I don’t know what I am supposed to do… Tonight… On wedding night…”

“What?” He was exasperated at first; then felt amused. “You don’t know what to… You mean you have never slept with someone.”

She gulped and nodded. Mukundo could see how mortified she was. He decided to put her out of misery. “Relax. You don’t have to do anything. Absolutely nothing. You will change into something comfortable, eat and then go to sleep. Okay?”

She stared at him, as if unable to make sense of what he said.

“Do you understand?” he asked, like the teacher he was!

She finally nodded uncertainly.

On second thoughts, he decided not to leave her alone immediately.

“Sit down, Piyali. I want to talk to you for a while.”

She mechanically made to sit down on the floor.

“No. No,” he almost cried, “Not on the floor. This is not Uttarpara. Take that chair and sit down comfortably.” He pointed towards the chair lying near his writing desk.

She gulped nervously, but did not resist. She gingerly pulled the chair out, turned it so that she could face him, and sat down. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I know that things are overwhelming for you,” he started speaking, “And I don’t know myself if I took the right decision is bringing you here. I wish you had a chance to make the decision for yourself. But your family would never have given you that chance. Am I right?”

She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. She struggled to keep her tears in check.

“But all that later. What you said just now doesn’t make sense. You are widowed. How could you not…”

“I never went to my in-law’s place. The accident happened before that. He died. Soon after the wedding…” she replied in a small voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. But that still didn’t make sense. They might not have immediately consummated their marriage. But for a girl who was married, how she could be so naïve and not know… He couldn’t contain his curiosity, “How old are you, Piyali?”

“I… I don’t know,” she stammered.

“You don’t know?” he frowned.

“I mean… Let me calculate… Ten… ” she mumbled as she counted something on her hands, “Eighteen, I think.”

“Eighteen?” his eyes widened in surprise. She was just eighteen. When did she get married and widowed? He fervently hoped that she was at least eighteen. Else he would have married a minor!

She misunderstood his shock to think he didn’t believe her estimation of her age. She spoke as a way of explanation, “Everyone says I was ten-years old at the time of wedding. And I have performed pooja for eight of his barsis… So…”

“Ten?” Damn! She was a child-widow. What had he taken upon himself? If she had been living like how he had seen her since she was ten, most of her life had been traumatic. Would he be able to fix that? How?

She just nodded, unaware of the storm going on in his mind. She was preoccupied with her attempts to understand his motives. Why was he asking those questions? Was he trying to judge if she was suitable to be his wife? Why would he do that? She, obviously, wasn’t suitable. Why had he taken that decision? Why had he married her? Despite having convinced herself that he was a perfect gentleman, she could not rid her head of that conversation. The one she had overheard between her step-mother and their neighbor.

“Why would a Professor from Kolkata want to marry a village girl, Savitri? That too a widow?” the neighbor had wondered aloud.

“How do I know? The quirks of city-dwellers.” Savitri had been disinterested.

“Don’t mind Savitri. But there is something I am sure of. And I think it is my duty to warn you.”

“What is it?”

“You know there are those places in cities. Kolkata especially. I think all this care for her is just a drama. He wants to sell her off.”

“Hasn’t she already sold herself off,” Savitri was least bothered about the fate of her step-daughter, “As it is, her presence and her character is becoming a trouble for my daughters. Let him take her away and do whatever with her.”

Recalling that conversation terrorized her. She jumped out of the chair without realizing it. She trembled uncontrollably.

“Piyali!” he noticed her state and rushed to her. He made to hold her, but stopped. “What happened? Talk to me. Are you scared?”

Despite her vulnerability, she could not mistrust that caring voice. “A little,” she managed to mumble.

“Piyali. You are safe here. It’s not a lot, but you have known me for over a month. You don’t need to be scared of me.”

Was there a tinge of disappointment in his voice? Was he offended that she did not trust him? But she did trust him. Janani Kaki, her neighbor, she was used to talking rubbish. Of course, she shouldn’t take her words to her heart. And she should not offend him because of her. He has made such a sacrifice to restore dignity to her life.

“I am not scared of you, Mukundo Babu,” she said with as much strength in her voice as she could muster.

“Good. I know that the change in overwhelming and sudden. It is natural to have misgivings. But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make you comfortable.”

She nodded.

“And yes. About us… You don’t have to worry about this wedding thing. I couldn’t have brought you away without this. But this is not how marriages should be done. There has to be some understanding, some compatibility. I am never going to impose upon you. So, don’t be bothered about me. Okay?”

That was too radical for her to comprehend. She looked at him wide-eyed; nervous and scared. If he didn’t intend to accept her as his wife, what did he want?

He read through her confusion and smiled kindly. “None of it is making sense to you. Let it be. Everything doesn’t have to be sorted out today. Tonight, just focus on resting and feeling better. You stay in this room. I will take my stuff to another room.”

“But this is your room, right?”

“Yes. But you can stay here…”

“I don’t need this room, Mukundo Babu. I don’t need any room. I just need some corner to sleep in…”

“That is not how anyone sleeps here, Piyali. There are beds to sleep in,” he was mildly irritated.

“But you keep your room. Give me the room you were going to take.”

He sighed, “Fair enough. Let me take you there.”

He settled her in another room and made to leave. But something struck him just before leaving. “Let me show you how to use the bathroom?”

“What?”

“There are no hand-pumps here. You may not know how to use the shower, geyser etc. Let me show you.”

She nodded, gulping yet again. He did want to leave her alone so that she could rest and wrap her head around the massive change that had come in her life. But things kept coming up. This was absolutely the final one for the day! Except for dinner.

—

To be continued