Mish' Fiction

“Everybody loves you. I don’t remember when was the last time anybody came to drop me to the airport.” They had needed three big cars to accommodate everyone on their way to the airport. Mrinal’s parents, sisters, brother-in-law, nephew and nieces had accompanied them to the airport. So had Parikshit and Antara’s uncle.

“They all love you. You shun them,” she said in an indulgent, and not a complaining tone.

Mrinal sighed and leaned back on the chair. They had completed the check-in and security check, and were waiting for the boarding.

“I don’t know when it happened, Antara. But I just lost connect. There is just too much hypocrisy. Even love is selfish and loved ones a means to achieve some other end. Get married so that we can host a lavish wedding and prove to everyone in the market that we are a “strong party”. Or get married traditionally so that I can show off the dowry my daughter-in-law has brought. Or get married quickly so that I live long enough to see and flaunt my grandchildren and see their wedding too.”

Antara chuckled. “I understand the hypocrisy part, but you can be funny about it.”

“I sound weird, don’t I?”

“No,” she frowned, “Absolutely not. Just brutally honest.”

“And is it okay? To be brutally honest with you?”

“What kind of a question is that? Of course, Mrinal ji…”

“Then let’s start with this. Please stop calling me Mrinal ji.”

“What else do I call you?”

“I have a name.”

“That’s what I am using…”

“Mrinal ji?” he emphasized on ji.

“Oh!” she looked away nervously.

“What?”

“I’m not used to it…”

“Come on. It can’t be that difficult. It’s not like you have been addressing me like this for years.”

Actually she had been. He didn’t know how often his mother would talk about him before neighbors, relatives, acquaintances and anyone who would listen. And there couldn’t have been a more patient listener than Antara. Mohini Agarwal’s focus was mostly on his weird ways, his not being interested in family business, his ascetic lifestyle and his unwillingness to get married. But Antara would often try to picture the real person behind her rants. And she had always referred to him as Mrinal ji.

Presently she smiled and acquiesced, “Okay.”

“Okay? Then let’s test it.”

“What?”

“Call me by my name.”

“Huh?”

He shrugged and looked on expectantly.

She threw up her hands and gave in, “Fine. Mrinal. Happy?”

“Very.”

She shook her head smiling.

—

Mrinal grew nervous as they approached his house in the campus. How would she find the small two-bedroom house allotted to him in faculty quarters?

“This is a humble teacher’s abode,” he said as he unlocked the door, “I don’t know if you will find it livable.”

Antara looked at him surprised. In the short time that she has known him, he had taken charge of their relationship; making decisions, leading her, assuring her… This sudden display of anxiety on his part was new to her.

She waited until they had stepped in to reply, “It is ours, right?”

Mrinal felt like a huge burden was lifted off his chest. He smiled looking relieved, “Yes. It is. That is until I get promoted and hopefully get another one with one more bedroom,” he said, still sounding self-deprecating, but comfortable.

“We will worry about it when it comes,” she spoke in jest and walked around the hall they had stepped in.

“Antara,” he went to her and held her hands, “I know you would be overwhelmed with all the exhaustion and dealing with so much change, not to mention my demands and questions… And I am not asking you to make an immediate decision…”

“Mrinal ji!” she grew alarmed and forgot her promise to call him by name only. What was it leading to? “What is it?”

“No. Nothing to worry about. Come. Sit here,” he led her to the sofa lying in the hall, “Antara. There was something important about me that I should have told you before the wedding, or before the wedding was decided. But I skipped it. Partly due to circumstances. But more importantly because I am willing to change it for you.”

Despite his assurance, Antara’s face looked deadly pale. Was the incredibly good future that was smiling at her a mirage after all? Was something horrible going to be revealed?

“Antara. It’s not just the family and family business I have distanced myself from, but also the family money. I live off my own salary. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable to me. But it can’t sustain the lifestyle that they lead back in Kolkata. At my or your house. This isn’t a choice that you have made, however.  And this isn’t a choice you are bound by. Papa transfers money to an account of mine every month. If you want to use it…”

Antara had gradually relaxed and was smiling by now. “Mrinal,” she interrupted and remembered her promise in addressing him, “I also know a bit more about you than you think. Auntie had described your meager accommodation in gory details to me multiple times, bemoaning why you were inflicting this hardship on yourself; and why you won’t use family money. I have walked into this marriage with my eyes open. Stop worrying.”

“But it still wasn’t your choice…”

“But this is a choice I am proud of. I can’t promise, Mrinal, that it would all be smooth. Money or no money, I have never run a house. I don’t even know what your salary is. I don’t know what our monthly budget should be for everything. I don’t know what can or cannot be accommodated in that monthly budget. I don’t know if we can afford this honeymoon in Mauritius. But I am more than willing to learn; happy to learn. And… I don’t know if I am worthy enough… But I would like to contribute…”

Antara watched astonished as Mrinal’s eyes moistened. “I can’t believe my luck,” his voice was thick. He embraced her gently at first. But the hormones that he had suppressed with efforts for last two days were fueled by his emotional high and they raged beyond his control. He caressed, then rubbed her hair and back. Still aware of his assurance to her that he would go slow, he tried to pull away, but she put her arms around him. “Don’t stop,” she mumbled through her shallow breathing, “Don’t stop today whatever happens.” Encouraged, he threw the caution out of window, leaned forward and nibbled at her ear lobes. They turned out to be extremely sensitive, and she moaned out aloud.

“Come inside,” he whispered in her ear and then led her to the bedroom. The sheets hadn’t been changed in weeks, but neither of them were in a position to care. He seated her on the edge of the bed and approached her left shoulder with trembling hands. He unpinned her aanchal from her blouse. The pleats spread out covering her arms. “Is there another pin?” he asked. She shook her head. There were no insurmountable barriers now! He sat on the bed and pulled her down. He took care to penetrate her slowly. She herself was prepared and did not let even an accidental sound slip. What came out of her were tears. Not of pain, but of pleasure. And happiness! She wouldn’t have admitted it earlier. But now there could be no harm. She was in love with this man. Through his mother’s complaints, she had been falling in love, bit by bit. She could never have imagined that she would have him for herself one day. And that too so easily!

—

To be continued

She did not go to the dresser at all after shower and came directly to him. He had changed into comfortable night dress and was already waiting for her on the bed. He lent her a hand as she climbed on the bed and welcomed her with a kiss on her forehead. She looked down and waited in anxiety as well as excitement for his next move. It took forever! He spoke.

“You look gorgeous in red,” his voice was hoarse. Seeing her in red saree that morning had stunned him. That’s why he had chosen red for the night-dress too. He hadn’t erred.

Her throat went dry and she gulped hard. His hands slipped down her shoulders, caressing her arms ever so lightly, finally reaching down to her palms, which he held in his. He coughed before willing himself to speak in a normal voice, “If you are not ready, or feel uncomfortable, you can stop me. Right now. Or at any point of time. Okay?”

Even with her inexperience, she could feel desire oozing out of his body. How could he still be so careful… so caring… so much in control. “Men need what they need,” Chachiji was definitely not talking about men like him. Were there men like him? Or was he the only one.

“You must do that, Anatara. Tell me that you understand,” he spoke again when she did not answer his earlier question.

She wasn’t looking at him. But she could feel his intense gaze on herself. She nodded slowly. There was no way words were coming out of her throat in such an overwhelming situation. He pulled away for a moment as he reached out and switched off the light. The next moment she was in his arms, in a bone-crushing hug. After breaking the hug, he didn’t give her even a moment’s respite. He flung open the gown of her nightdress. Inside it was a knee-length dress with noodle strap. He didn’t bother about it. It didn’t offer him much resistance. He laid her down on the bed. She got unsettled when he kissed her feet. She sat up with a start. “Mrinal ji… No… Don’t…”

He cupped her face and replied, “Even saints have worshipped beauty, Antara. I am a mere mortal and there is such beauty before me today… Don’t stop me. Relax and enjoy. Please.”

He was gentle, but he knew what he wanted. And in a way that could not be described in words, he was demanding it from her. She wouldn’t deny him anything he wanted. He kissed her on the lips and made her lie down again.  He covered every inch of her body with kisses. Despite his arousal he keenly observed when she enjoyed and when she flinched, adjusting his position accordingly. She was writhing under him, her own desire shooting through the roof with the foreplay, when he finally straddled her. But hers was virgin body. When he entered her, despite his precaution, it hurt. It came unexpectedly to her, and she let out a cry. He stopped immediately, pulling away.

“Antara!”

When she realized what had happened, she grew tongue-tied. Hadn’t all those Internet articles and columns in women’s magazines warned her? Why wasn’t she prepared? She should have anticipated and not cried out!

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he didn’t sense her mortification and was more worried about her pain. He helped her sit up. Before he could do or say something more coherent, however, he needed to calm himself down. “Give me a minute,” he said, grabbed his clothes and went to the bathroom.

She was sobbing by the time he came back.

“What… what happened, Antara. Talk to me. Are you hurt? Please…”

“Don’t be so nice to me,” came the listless reply through her sobs. Then the obvious realization dawned on him. It wasn’t the pain. She was embarrassed.

“Rest assured,” his tone suddenly become playful, “I’m not going to be nice at all. You have no idea how many sleepless nights lie in wait for you. You have tortured me since the first time I saw you.”

Her sobs subsided. How did he manage to switch gears like that, she wondered.

“But Antara,” he was more somber now, “It’s doesn’t happen like in romance novels. What happened was natural. It takes time getting used to it, getting used to each other. We have an entire lifetime before us. We have time to get comfortable. And we should use that. Ideally I shouldn’t have pushed you so early on…. But I got carried away…. You do that to me!” He smiled and kissed her hands.

“How do I thank you…”

“What do you want to thank me for?”

“It has barely been two days with you,” she spoke in a low voice. The lights were still switched off, and in the dim floor-light it was difficult to make out expressions on her face. “And in these two days I have been asked about what I want, or how I am feeling, or whether I am comfortable more number of times than in last fifteen years of my life. I am almost afraid that I will get used to it.”

“Antara!” she had revealed probably one of the deepest emotions to him. Despite not being used to pryaing, he prayed that he would never break her trust. “You weren’t happy at your Uncle’s place?” he asked wanting to hear her talk.

“No. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t starved or abused… In fact, you see all these suitcases… You had stumped everyone with your insistence on no dowry. They did their best to make up for it with lavishness of wedding, all these clothes, jewelry, expensive gifts and what not.”

“Most of which you are not interested in taking with you.”

“None of it is for me, Mrinal ji. I always had expensive things and luxuries. But not because I would be comfortable in them; rather because they can’t be seen as grudging the responsibility of their unfortunate, orphaned niece.”

Mrinal sighed. Her parents hadn’t died poor. As the elder brother, her father had more to do with the family business than her uncle and he inherited the fruits of his brother’s labour. Still, because she was a girl child, she was a burden. If they took care of her, it was a favour. Nobody thought that all that money was hers too.

“It’s all over, Antara. You can leave all of this behind you. You must,” he said as he pulled her closer in his embrace.

—

“How did you pack your paintings?”

“Paintings?”

“Your paintings.”

“I… That’s nothing serious. I didn’t bring them at all.”

“Arr… Why not? Can somebody fetch them?”

“Who told you I paint?”

“I have seen your paintings.”

“When? Where?”

Mrinal sighed and then broke in to a smile, “Just trust me. I have seen them and they are damn serious. How do we get them? Do you want to make a quick trip home…”

“I don’t know if they would even be there. Chachiji was planning to remodel my room…”

“She couldn’t have just thrown them away…. Anyway, let’s at least try.”

“I will ask Pikku to check.”

“Call right away. He might already be on his way here.”

“Why?”

“I asked him to come.”

“For what?”

“How possessive you are being! Can’t I talk to him?”

“Of course, you can…” she turned away feeling confused and foolish. Mrinal grinned behind her.

—

Parikshit handed her a cylindrical box. “Here. All your paintings. I packed them when Mummy started cleaning the room.”

Mrs. Gupta had indeed started on her plans to reclaim Antara’s room already!

“Thank you. Where did you get this box from?” Antara felt overwhelmed and asked to distract herself.

“It came with one of the posters I had ordered. Should keep them safe in the journey.”

“Thank you, Parikshit,” Mrinal interposed and handed him a gift-wrapped box, “This is for you.”

“What is this?”

“Open it.”

Parikshit eagerly opened the box and gave a cry of joy when he saw the sealed box of a mobile phone. It was the same model Mrinal had bought for Antara earlier.

“Wow! Thank you so much, Mrinal Bhai…. Rather Jijaji,” he grinned happily, “How did you know I wanted this phone?”

“It was no rocket science. You were so interested and excited when I had given you Antara’s phone.”

“It wasn’t needed,” Antara told Mrinal after Parikshit had left, “He has already been spoiled during the wedding. He might have extracted more gifts for himself than were bought for me.” She was smiling fondly thinking about her brother.

“It wasn’t needed. It was just to acknowledge that he matters to you; hence to me too.”

Antara looked grateful, “Yes. He matters to me. I have practically brought him up.”

“Yeah?”

“When my parents died he was barely one- year old. And Chachiji was frantic about having been saddled with the responsibility of another seven-year old child, that too a girl. I was so scared and insecure. I felt the need to prove my worth. That’s why I started looking after him. To prove to her that I would not be a burden. But afterwards… I was thankful I did that. He has been my solace. Probably this is what being a mother feels like. And after growing up, he has been a great support and companion.”

“But he doesn’t stay at home.”

“He went off only last year.”

“And you have been lonely?”

“Very.”

“Well. Not any longer.”

She smiled shyly.

—

To be continued

It was a bright red saree that was loosely wrapped around her when she came out of the bathroom. She had washed her hair and was patting it dry with the towel. She was unaware of Mrinal’s keen eyes on her. The breakfast had already come and it was laid out on the coffee table. He was sitting on the couch next to it. Only when she sat down at the dresser at the other side of the room did she notice him in the mirror. Their eyes met through the mirror and she averted hers immediately. His were not the eyes of a concerned friend who had been so worried about her food, sleep and health for last two days. Those were the smoldering eyes of a hungry lover. She applied the sindoor, not daring to do the rest of the makeup under his glare, and made to the coffee table wordlessly. He held out his hand and made her sit next to him. He cupped her face in his hands and spoke in almost a whisper, “You are beautiful. Do you know that?”

She didn’t know what instincts she acted on, but she shook her head slightly even while her face was in the grip of her hands.

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a crooked smile, “No. Why? Nobody told you?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

How idiotic to have shook her head! What was she going to say in reply? But she was feeling emboldened with him now. “No,” she replied defiantly in her childishly sweet voice.

“Nobody?” she wasn’t looking at him, but the amusement in his voice was even more pronounced now. She could imagine his smile, the one that lighted up his face so well.

“Not like that.”

“Not like what?”

She closed her eyes, her face growing hot; and shook her head. That was the limit of her boldness for the time being.

“Let me give you options to choose from,” he murmured to her. “Like this?” he roughly caressed her cheeks with his thumbs while continuing to hold her face. “Or like this?” he kissed her closed eyes one by one. “Or like this?” he let one of his hands slip away from her cheek to the side of her neck, and planted a kiss on the freed cheek. She clutched her hands in an effort to hide her reactions, but the sensations running through her body were beyond control. He was bending down to reach her neck, but just then she bit her lips hoping that it will provide her some relief. That was as much Mrinal could do to stop himself. Still he managed to restrain himself to a quick peck on her lips initially. They quivered at the touch and parted slightly. The invitation could not be ignored any longer. He crashed on her lips, sucking on her lower lips at first; then thrusting his tongue deep in her mouth, exploring the sweetness that lied inside. He was encouraged when, after initial passivity, she also responded back. He withdrew only when he felt her running out of breath and slacking. He himself was panting.

The first kiss! Antara was feeling dizzy with the experience. The way her body had reacted told her that it couldn’t have been any better. But as she steadied her breath, she also felt a little confused. What was she to do with her wetness on her lips? Wipe it off? But before she could do anything, she felt his fingers crushing her lips. It was like he couldn’t have enough of them. Now that he had broken the kiss the fingers were at work, exploring every inch of them. While he was doing that, she became aware that her eyes were still closed, and her hands clutched. She relaxed her hands and slowly opened her eyes. Mrinal left her lips alone and held her at shoulders. “You drive me mad,” he spoke in a low, throaty voice. Her heart leapt. What better complement could a new, nervous bride want?

What now? Will they just… But…

“We are getting late,” she said in a low, uncertain voice.

“We could extend our booking by a day,” he said.

She looked up concerned. That would be too conspicuous. But as usual, she found him smiling mischievously. He was teasing her!

“Breakfast,” silence created too much sexual tension. She felt compelled to talk to release it, “Is getting cold. You must be hungry.”

“You have no idea how much,” he chuckled meaningfully, but let her go.

Their breakfast conversation was mostly inane. They talked about which of the dishes were good, and which weren’t and fussed over each other for not eating enough. After finishing it, Mrinal remembered something.

“Antara. Here is something. Mummy wanted me to give it to you,” he took out a small jewelry box from his suitcase. She opened it to find two heavy, gold ear-rings in it.

“Mummy?” she looked confused. Why would her mother-in-law send a gift for her wedding night? It was awkward. Or was he joking again?

“Yes. She asked me to give it to you…”

She chuckled suddenly.

“What happened?”

“Auntie asked you to give it to me?”

“Yes. She did. What is so funny about it?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. His mother probably knew her son won’t remember these things. So, she was prepared. “Actually…” Antara explained with a slight blush and grin, “This is supposed to be from you. A ritual of sort. The relatives and guests will ask today what I got from you last night. So – thank you!”

“Oh!” he looked like a confused, lost kid. Ritual or not – he should have brought something for her. But he was so disinterested in the entire wedding, and so focused on planning their lives after it was over, that he wasn’t thinking. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mrinal ji. I don’t need this. It is just for the ritual, which has been taken care of.”

“What would you have done if Mummy didn’t remember?”

“I would have shown them my night dress,” she replied jocularly, as she put the folded kurta-paijama she had used at night back in his suitcase.

He grinned.

Mrinal watched from the corners of his eyes as Antara went back to the dresser, tied her hair loosely and applied nothing other than a face cream and some kajal for her makeup. Then they packed up their belongings and left. Mrinal’s father had left his car in the hotel for their use.

—

The day dragged on slowly. There was a small pooja to conclude the function. Many guests were leaving and they all had a word or two to say to the new daughter-in-law before leaving. So, even though there wasn’t much for either of them to do, they could not spend any time together. It was dinner time when all the guests had departed. Only Mrinalini stayed on. They had a quiet family dinner. Everyone was exhausted and they decided to go to sleep early. Mrinal stayed back to discuss something with his father, while her sisters led Antara to his bedroom – now theirs!

Mrinal saw Antara struggling to close a suitcase when he entered the room. He rushed to help her. “Why did you open it? It doesn’t seem to have any of your night dresses.”

“I had to give a gift each to Mrinalini Didi and Mudita,” she referred to his sisters, “It is a ritual.”

“Rituals! But Didi? She is younger to me.”

“I have always called her Didi,” she smiled awkwardly.

He didn’t say anything, just grunted non-committally. The suitcase was closed now.

He looked around his room, which was filled with her suitcases. “You will have to repack this stuff. We can’t take so much on flight to Mumbai. Pack essential ones in one suitcase; the rest can come through movers and packers.”

Mrinal had it all figured out. The very next day they were to fly to Mumbai, get Antara’s passport under Tatkal scheme and then fly to Mauritius after a week or two for their honeymoon. He had wanted to get away from family humdrum in Kolkata at the earliest. The passport and honeymoon gave an immediate excuse.

“Actually… I don’t need so much stuff. It’s really just for…” she didn’t complete her sentence, instead asked him, “How much can we take on flight?”

“Forty Kgs between the two of us. I don’t have much stuff to be taken back. So, you can pack up to 30 Kgs.”

“I will manage in that,” she said and moved to open another suitcase.

“Why do you want to open that?” he asked.

“For my night dress.”

“Yeah. Just a minute.” He went to the cupboard and took out a polythene bag. “Try this,” he said handing it over to her.

“What is it?”

“There is no ritual that you can’t open it and see for yourself,” he said.

She laughed softly at that and took out the contents of the bag. She found herself holding a mass of red, satin fabric. She looked at him puzzled.

“A night dress,” he explained, “Since you were so keen on showing people a night dress as my gift…”

She beamed happily.  Mrinal felt hopeful. Simple things pleased this girl. She was happy to leave behind much of the stuff that came as wedding gift to her. But a simple night dress had brought this uncontainable grin on her face. Things might just work out without much compromise on his part.

“And please do not cry again. Not over a night dress,” he added jocularly.

“I will take a shower and come,” she said and picked up a towel.

“Wash your hair too,” he suggested. She didn’t look back at him on hearing this. So, he couldn’t see her blushing, but could very well imagine it.

—

To be continued

Her large eyes stared at him innocently. “No. Why would you think so?”

“You look so sad all of a sudden.”

She gave a small smile, “As you noticed, I am just tired. It isn’t you, Mrinal ji. If anything, you have been extraordinarily kind to me.”

“I am inclined to take your words on their face value. So, tell me now if you are being honest or not?”

“I am being completely honest about it.”

“Thank you. There is something I am going to propose. But that ‘obeying me’ thing was a joke. I hope you already know that. So, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it. But don’t get sad or distressed because of that. Okay?”

She gulped hard, and nodded. “I have changed. I am going to sleep on that side facing away from the bed. You can change, wear this and go to sleep. Switch off the lights, if you feel comfortable. I promise not to turn, and not to look at you. You won’t have any reason to feel embarrassed.” He showed her the other set of kurta-paijama in his hand. He ignored her gaze, and did not wait for her reply. He got up, and put the set on the back of the chair he was sitting on.

“Mrinal ji,” she said as he made to go to the bed.

“Yes?”

“I need help. There are too many clips in my hair, and too many pins on my dress,” she said with downcast eyes, her cheeks reddening. Mrinal’s somber face broke into a smile.

“Sure. But you will have to guide me.”

Together they took out the clips and pins, and freed her hair as well as dupatta. It led to many awkward moments of physical closeness, especially while undoing the various pins on her blouse. But they took care to not let the dupatta slip off her shoulder. Their reasons for ensuring that were different though. Antara was simply shy, while Mrinal needed to ensure that he didn’t lose his self-control. He could not remain completely detached though. After confirming with her that she will be able to manage the rest, he let one of his hands hold her face. He bent further and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Good night,” he murmured and went to the bed, leaving her panting. After he had lied down, facing away as promised, Antara picked up the kurta-paijama from the chair and headed to the bathroom. As she stared at her reflection in the large bathroom mirror and touched her forehead repeatedly, despite trying her best, a drop of her tear fell on the kurta-paijama she was clutching in her hand.

—

Antara switched off the lights using the switch near the bed. Mrinal was aware of her coming. He couldn’t have fallen asleep so quickly. The lightness of her movement told him that she had indeed changed. He relaxed. At least she wouldn’t be writhing in that massive lehanga. It took some effort to not turn around. But absurd though it was, it was a promise. He willed herself to continue lying on his side. Antara took to the comfortable bed soon. Her rhythmic breathing minutes after she had settled down told him that his weary bride was asleep. He let himself relax after that. Sleep came to him soon.

He woke up sometime in the middle of the night. His awareness did not take long to return. He realized that he had turned in sleep and was now lying on his back. Eager to not let Antara know, he made to turn back, when he noticed that she was not on the bed. He panicked and sat up, but managed to locate her silhouette immediately. She had opened the curtains of the window and was staring outside. And he could hear a faint noise of… Was she crying? Silently?

“Antara!” he called her name startling her.

“Haan… You… you woke up… I am sorry…. Did I disturb you?”

“No. I woke up on my own. What happened to you?”

“Nothing… Just… Woke up and didn’t feel like sleeping.”

“You are not sick, are you? Let me check,” he made to get down for the bed.

“No!” she cried, “I am coming back. You stay there.”

He hesitated, but did not stop. He obstinately went to her and asked, “You were crying?”

She stood silent.

“Why?” he demanded.

“Nothing to worry about, Mrinal ji. And it isn’t about you at all…”

“That would have been enough to stop me from insisting until yesterday, Antara. But not now. If you are crying, if something is bothering you, it is my business and I will attend to it. And I will expect you to do the same for me.”

She again stayed silence.

“Come here,” he held her hand and led her away from the window. But instead of going to the bed, he went to the couch lying in the same room. The coffee table in front of the couch already had two glasses filled with water kept on it. Mrinal picked up one and gave it to Antara. She took it from him meekly and drank the entire glass.

“Tell me now,” he held her hands again.

“It’s silly. And unnecessarily bitter.”

“Tell me still.”

“Chachaji and Chachiji have been very kind to me. Taking me – an orphan girl – in after my parents died. But…”

“Go on, Antara,” he pressed her hand to convey support.

“It isn’t the same. If my mother had done it, or if I had a sister of my own to help me, they wouldn’t have packed the suitcase so half-heartedly, without a thought. How could Chachiji just forget the night dress? So many were lying around… I was… I am so embarrassed… I know it is silly…”

“No. It is not,” he went forward and embraced her as she broke into tears once again. He patted her head and shoulders to comfort her. She stopped crying after a while and he let her go.

“Do you need more water?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“There is a lot I don’t know yet, Antara. But if you are hurt, it is not silly. What I do want you to remember is that it is going to be irrelevant now. You don’t have to depend on anybody any longer. I am there for you. Trust me.”

She nodded.

“Would you like to go back to sleep? You need rest.”

“Yes. And…”

“And?”

“You don’t need to look away. I was merely annoyed at the situation, when I refused to wear your clothes. It was… unnecessary…”

He chuckled, “Yes. It was unnecessary. You have to get used to much worse in my presence than wearing clothes that you don’t like…” he said suggestively making her gasp and blush.

She slept in his arms for the rest of the night.

—

He woke her up in the morning. She sat up startled. A look at him was enough to tell her that he had already freshened up and had taken his bath.

“What time is it? I didn’t realize when you…” she was flustered at having woken up late.

“Calm down. It’s nine. We should check out by eleven, I was told. If you want, you can sleep for another half an hour or so.”

“Nine? No, I am fine…”

“How are you feeling? Still tired?”

“No,” his concern for her well-being made her calm down, “I feel rested now. You?”

“Me too.”

“I will take my bath.”

“Where do you want to have breakfast? In the room? Or in the restaurant?”

“Whatever you want,” she replied habitually.

“I asked – what do you want.”

She took a few moments to reply. Things were changing for her. She didn’t have to focus on staying out of everybody’s way any longer.  She was going to have her own life. With him!

“In the room,” she flashed a happy, confident smile at him and went off to her suitcase to take out her morning dress.

—

To be continued

Unlike Mrinal, Antara was not annoyed with the rituals of the wedding. They were tiring and she didn’t necessarily derive the pleasure she had seen many girls driving from the occasion. But she was used to doing things that society and her family demanded of her. She knew all the requirements of all the functions, poojas etc. one could encounter in a lifetime. But after the biscuit incident, even she grew detached and impatient. She did feel embarrassed about it, but there was no running away from the fact that she was getting desperate to spend time alone with Mrinal. If only the unending rituals and people would get out of the way! The bidaai happened. The one person who did make her cry genuinely was her cousin Parikshit, who everyone affectionately called Pikku. He was her sole confidant and he was the one who had brought her the mobile from Mrinal, when Mrinal did not want to meet publicly, and Antara did not want to sneak out.

“Why are you crying, Didi?” Parikshit had tried to calm her down during the bidaai, although he himself had grown overwhelmed. “Instead of Delhi-Kolkata, it will be Delhi-Mumbai now. Stop crying and be happy.”

Bidaai was not the end of it. Grihapravesh came with its own sets of rituals, which went on till the evening.

Then came a surprise for them. They were to spend the night in the honeymoon suite of a five star hotel in the city.

“Here! Your Chachiji has packed this overnight suitcase for you,” Mrinalini showed a small suitcase to Antara and winked at her. “A beautician will be there for you,” she whispered conspiratorially, “Make sure Bhaiya is unable to take his eyes off you.” Antara blushed, and gave a shy, nervous smile to her sister-in-law. “Can’t wait to hold my nephew. You have a year, not more!” Ah! The compulsory reference to kids. The marriages were meant for making babies in this world. She wondered what Mrinal thought about that.

Eager as she was to finally meet him, she started growing nervous as the beautician worked furiously on her hair, make-up and dress. All of this wasn’t meant for sitting together, talking and understanding each other. It was meant for…

“Men need what they need,” she remembered the embarrassing conversation that her Chachiji had considered a must to indulge in, as a part of her motherly duties, “Don’t deny them. Keep them happy and you would have the world at your feet. If they go astray, and with this guy who knows what has he been doing away from the family all these years, then you will have no one else to blame.”

It hadn’t been much of conversation. More like Chachiji speaking, and Antara not knowing where to look to make is less gross and more comfortable. Unlike the brides of her aunt’s days, she wasn’t ignorant of what sex involved – not with Internet at their fingertips, anyway. But that couldn’t have made up for the lack of experience, and the nervousness it induced. Men need what they need. What good will all the talking do, if this went wrong? And she was tired, more like exhausted.

She walked unsteadily when the beautician finished and led her to the bed. The beautician collected her stuff and left after cracking a practiced joke. She must be doing it day in and day out!

—

Mrinal did not notice the decorations in the room as he entered. His eyes immediately sought her out. She was on the bed, her knees folded up and her head buried in them. She looked up at the sound of his closing the door. He was taken aback for a moment. Her eyes were bloodshot with lack of sleep. She hadn’t had a wink of it in last two days. She stared at him as if unable to recognize him or make any sense of her surroundings. Then awareness returned and she averted her eyes. Mrinal noticed that she bit her lips, most likely in an attempt to contain her anxiety. He will have to tell her not to do that, unless she did really intend to drive him crazy and out of control. Given that her strength was all but giving up, and her weariness showed even through the make-up, that was definitely not what she should be doing then. He took off his shoes and sat before her on the bed.

“You really need to sleep,” he said gently.

This man won’t stop surprising her. “I… I am fine,” she managed to reply.

He took her hand in his. It had gone cold. He pressed it and said, “You are looking ravishing, Antara. But we aren’t living in medieval age. Nobody is going to check for the signs of consummation tomorrow morning. We have all the time in the world. You haven’t slept in two days. Probably more… You will fall ill at this rate. Please go and get changed.”

“What was the point of all this, then?” she blurted and then bit her lips again on realizing what she had said.

Mrinal hesitated for a moment. “Was this… your idea?” he asked.

“No. No. I didn’t know at all.”

“Mine neither. So, why bother. You have your stuff here, right?”

She took a few moments to comprehend what was going on. Was it possible not to fall in love with this man? Anybody would have fallen for him. Why did he choose her? She sent a silent prayer up that everything that his behavior promised came true; and that she could prove or grow worthy of him.

“Where is your suitcase?” he asked taking her silence to be her hesitation.

“On that stand,” she pointed and made to get down from the bed.  Mrinal jumped out before her. She almost tripped on her lehanga as she kept her feet down. He supported her just in time. He continued holding her hands as they walked towards the wooden stand, on which her suitcase was kept. He stood behind, as she opened it and rummaged through it. “Offo!” her annoyed grunt drew his attention.

“What happened?” he asked.

“There is just a saree for the morning. I think Chachiji forgot to keep a night dress.” She looked extremely sad. Not having a nightdress could induce frustration, but this sadness?

“The hotel has a store…” Mrinal looked at his watch; then added in disappointed, “It’s too late. They would be closed.”

“I will just take off the jewelry,” she said resignedly, “I will manage in this.”

“You can’t possibly sleep in that monster of a dress!”

“I will manage, Mrinal ji. Please don’t worry,” she started walking towards the dresser.

Mrinal wordlessly went to another suitcase lying nearby. This was his own.

“Ah!” he exclaimed as he found what he was looking for, “Mine has a spare set of kurta-paijama. Should do for the night.”

Antara stopped in her tracks. What did he say? He wanted her to wear his dress? Her eyes followed him blankly as he brought the two sets to her. “Here!”

“How… can… I… No, Mrinal ji. I told you I will manage. I can’t… possibly…”

“What’s the harm?”

She looked distressed and on the verge of tears. Mrinal was confused.

“Okay fine. Don’t… don’t worry. We will figure something out…”

She started towards the dresser again. Mrinal thought for a moment; then took one of the sets with him to the bathroom.

When he came back after changing out of his sherwani, he saw her sitting listlessly at the dresser and taking out her bangles one by one. There were too many of them. He found a chair and pulled it close to the dresser.

“I know it is my fault that we haven’t spoken much until now,” he said. Despite the mobile phone, they hadn’t had any heart-to-heart conversation since their last meeting. At best they would update each other on what they were doing and sometimes discuss a book one of them was reading. Closer to the wedding, the updates had been about wedding preparations. Antara’s updates were more detailed; Mrinal would manage to get just enough to keep the conversations going. “But I had promised to make up for it. And I intend to do it. And as a first step, I want to listen. Did I say something that hurt you, Antara?”

—

To be continued

Mrinal was barely managing to put up with the long, tiring rituals. He was ready to burst by the time his noisy baraat had reached Guptas’ house, taking forever to walk through a distance of half a kilometer! What had calmed him down was the sight of Antara walking on to the stage for jaymaal. The heavy dress, makeup and jewelry had overwhelmed her persona. She hardly looked like a person, more a showcase of everything that was draped on her. His own sherwani and the few ridiculous accessories that had been forced upon him started feeling very light. Hers were daunting. Still, unlike him, she looked calm and patient. He drew a deep breath and decided to follow her example. But he didn’t let the boys surrounding him to play the usual game of lifting him up and not letting the bride garland him easily. He dutifully bent his head the very first time and accepted the garland amidst a lot of hooting and leg-pulling from the guests about being joru-ka-gulaam.

The actual wedding rituals were to start only late at night. After jaymaal everyone sat down to eat. At the insistence of his cousins and sisters, Antara was brought in the dining hall to join them at the table. Getting to know her was hardly any excuse. They all knew her very well. But that was how everybody did it. So, that was how they wanted to do it too. Antara was still clad in her entire jaymaal ensemble. She was seated beside him. More leg-pulling started. He sat back silently, and she responded mostly with a shy smile and only occasionally protesting the jocular accusations like it was a childhood romance that they managed to keep under wraps all these years. “If that were the case,” she said gently, “I wouldn’t have left Auntie distressed all these years about his wedding.” That drew some appreciative nods and whistles. She had passed the test of wits.

But his patience was to be tested more. When the food came, she didn’t take anything. “Your dinner?” he asked in a whisper.

“I am fasting,” she mumbled almost without moving her lips and keeping her eyes on others on the table, not wanting to be caught in a chit-chat with him.

“What for?”

“Wedding…”

“But…”

She pressed his hand under the table, surprising him, and stopping him from questioning further. Then she removed it hastily. He didn’t realize what effect that brief physical contact had on her!

He found it difficult to eat anything after that. He was generally known to be a withdrawn, not-so-social kind of a person. So, people who were supposed to make sure he was fed well, did not insist as incessantly as they would with any other groom.

“When will you eat?” he sent her an SMS after the dinner was over and she was back in her room.

“In the morning. Please do not worry. I am used to fasting on several occasions. You didn’t eat well. Have something before the rituals start,” she replied.

When she came to the mandap later at night, he could see that she was tired and sleepy, but silent and forbearing as usual. He had been able to take a nap that afternoon, as well as after dinner. So, he wasn’t irritable on that count, at least. He watched partly in concern, and partly in amusement, as she fell asleep through the long mantra-chanting sessions of punditji. There was one moment in which she was fully awake though. When her hand was put in his for panigrahan. He could feel the slight trembling of her hand. Was it excitement? Or was it fear?

At last the rituals were over and they were led to Antara’s room together. Mrinal looked at his watch. It was five in the morning. A bunch of women and girls were following them. Mrinal was surprised that they still had the energy for lengthy, animated discussion over what the next set of rituals should be and exactly how should they be carried out. Antara was worried about how Mrinal would behave during the ritual of dwaar chhekai. She couldn’t imagine him happily arguing and bargaining with her cousins and friends who would demand exorbitant amount of money for letting them into the room. For the ritual of shoe-stealing, his cousins and friends had taken the lead in bantering and negotiations. His father had paid the money and he didn’t have to participate. But this one would be difficult.

The girls started off by asking for fifty thousand rupees. His reply surprised her, “I will not argue and wait silently until you name an amount that I can actually give right away.” He was prepared.

“We will have to ask for a chavanni then,” somebody tried to mock him.

“I had hoped you have better standards, but if that is what you want, I will graciously pay four-times more.”

It attracted some appreciative grunts. After a while they came down to ten thousand rupees. Mrinal took out fifteen thousand in cash and handed it over to them drawing absurd squeals of joy from them. They got sometime alone as the youngsters went off to take some rest and the women got busy preparing for the coming rituals.

He was annoyed that nobody seemed to be concerned about breaking Antara’s fast.

“Here,” he took out a packet of biscuits from the pocket of his kurta and offered it to her, “Eat this until they arrange for some breakfast.”

“Excuse me?” Antara who was wondering whether and what to talk to him about was startled.

“You are hungry since yesterday. I see no food in sight. Eat this.”

“Chachiji  or somebody else will tell me when I should break my fast.”

“I don’t see anyone concerned about that.”

“How can I break my fast with biscuits?”

“This is the best I could manage.”

“Mrinal ji…”

“You were sleeping through the lengthy explanation of wedding vows. So, let me remind you. You have just promised to obey me for the rest of your life. Now don’t break it so quickly.”

“What?” she looked at him puzzled. Was he angry that she was sleepy? But her concerns were laid to rest immediately. He was smiling. She smiled back and shook her head. “You are too much.”

He took her hand and pushed the packet of biscuit in it. “Eat before someone comes, please.”

“You didn’t eat last night either…”

“I had been eating all day yesterday.”

Just then they heard footsteps approaching. Antara grew nervous. Mrinal looked around and hissed, “Go to the bathroom. Eat there…”

“What?”

“Go!” he almost pushed her towards the bathroom.

“Arr… we have left him all alone like that… Where are the girls? Only good for taking money, eh? And where is Antara?”

“She is in the bathroom,” she heard him say. She looked at the packet of biscuit, then at her hand. The hand with which she had touched him last night to stop him from speaking more on her fast; the hand that had been put in his later in the night… She allowed herself a happy smile. And a hope… Of a life where someone would care… He already did. She didn’t need to eat. But she would keep her vow of obeying him, as he had demanded. She grinned as she thought of how he had said that; in such flat voice that she had believed him to be serious for a moment. She opened the packet and started nibbling at the first piece. As soon as she ate one, her suppressed hunger was awakened. She ended up finishing the entire packet. She threw the packet in the dustbin. She made to wash her hands, but stopped remembering that she had touched him with that. She wanted the feeling to linger on. She did not wash, just rubbed her hands together to get rid of crumbs. She checked her lips carefully in the mirror to remove the crumbs before coming out.

—

To be continued

“I am, I am sorry…” she sounded almost desperate and it made Mrinal wonder what was up with her, “Please don’t be mad… I will ask Chachiji. I am sure she will agree once she knows that you want it. You won’t have to ask…”

“Antara. I am not mad. Not at you, anyway. And being mad at anyone else isn’t going to do any good. So, relax.”

She did not say anything and took a deep breath. But her brows were still furrowed. Mrinal resisted the urge to run his fingers over her forehead to relax them and just motioned with his two fingers moving away.

“Huh?” she did not understand.

“Your eyebrows. They are so close together as if you are trying to concentrate on solving the world-hunger problem.”

She deliberately relaxed her eyes brows and a small smile appeared on her face.

“Do you have a mobile phone?” he asked.

She shook her head. She didn’t have one!

“Then I am not going to ask for anybody’s permission to gift you one; if that is okay with you. Is it?”

She hesitated for a bit; then nodded.

“Antara. I can feel that you are under a lot of pressure. I don’t know why. But you must know this. That you needn’t feel any of it because of me. I am not here to judge you. And anything we discuss is not reaching another ear; not through me. So, nobody else is going to judge you either. I am probably saying too much, too soon; and confusing you. But I only want to assure you that…” he stopped struggling with the right words to express himself. Then he decided to give up on political correctness and blurted, “That you don’t need to treat it like any other “arranged” marriage proposals that have or would have come your way. None of that judging, questioning and pointless mutual slandering… Nobody will do it to me. Nobody will do it to you. And if somebody is doing it to you, without my knowledge, and that is what is creating all this pressure on you, I hope that someday soon, you will be comfortable in discussing it with me.”

Antara stared at him wide-eyed. But when he looked directly at her, she averted her gaze.

“Did I make you more nervous?” he chuckled.

“No,” she looked up and smiled. “So you don’t like people much?”

“I love the mankind. It’s people I can’t stand.”

It was her turn to chuckle.

“And I love people who get the reference,” he added without realizing that he had indirectly said those magical words to her. She waited for a moment wondering if he realized that. He didn’t. So, she kept her blushing and smiling in check.

“Shall I ask Chachiji?”

“For?”

“For going out…”

“No. No Antara. You are as much an adult as I am… I can’t have you do what I won’t.”

“But you don’t want this either…”

“Yes,” he said somberly, “That means until the wedding, we will have to manage without meeting. Is that okay with you?”

Her cheeks grew crimson, when he said that. What was she supposed to say? If she said it was okay, she would sound too cold. If she said it wasn’t, she would sound too desperate. Why did he put her in such situations? He had just assured her that he wasn’t judging her. But lifelong training of trying to do what others think right, rather than the honest one, couldn’t be shed off just like that. “Whatever you think is right…” she smiled tentatively.

He sighed. She assumed that he was dissatisfied with her not expressing her opinion and putting the entire responsibility on him. He had told her very clearly that he wanted her to talk to him. But how could she just start doing that? Unless she got enough time with him…

But he had more surprise in store for her. “Antara. You were probably expecting that experience… of meeting… of getting to know each other… And I am sorry that I am being so adamant against doing it like this… But before we decide anything about it, you have to answer a question of mine completely honestly. Will you do that?”

What! How could she promise to answer honestly before knowing what the question was? This was their first meeting, for Christ’s sake. Given how considerate he had appeared otherwise during this conversation, she couldn’t assume that he was doing it deliberately.  He just didn’t realize how difficult his questions were for her, did he?

“Mrinal ji…”

“You must answer it honestly, and you won’t regret it.”

“Fine,” she decided to take the risk.

“Is saying ‘no’ to this relationship really an option for you, if you do find me disagreeable?”

Her bravery vanished into thin air on hearing the unexpected question. What kind of a question was that? Why was he asking that? And then she grew thoughtful and sad despite herself. She had always accepted her lot and had learned to be happy with it. Suddenly this man, in their very first meeting, was making her painfully aware of so many things that were wrong with her life. Her dependence, her complete lack of control over even the life-changing decisions… She should hate him… But at the same he was also giving her hope… Of a better future. She would play this game. It could be dangerous, but she would play it all the same. She would answer him honestly. Did she have an option of saying ‘no’?

“No. I don’t,” she said is a low, but firm voice.

“Would the answer be different, if it were somebody other than me?”

“I don’t know why you are asking these things, Mrinal ji. I am a simple girl and I don’t have freedom like you do… No. I would never have had that option once the elders had decided on a match for me. But why do you…”

“Remember what I said earlier, Antara. I am still not judging you. I will tell you why I asked that question. Because if you had that option, I would have made sure that we spend this time together so that you could make-up your mind. But if that option isn’t there anyway, if the wedding has to happen irrespective of what you discover about me, I don’t want to enslave myself, and you, to this way of doing things. I find it almost vulgar. I am an extremely private person, Antara.”

Antara’s misgivings went away and she genuinely felt for him seeing him struggle like this for her sake, “It’s all right, Mrinal ji. Please don’t worry because of me. Really…”

“I will make up for it. Whatever it takes. I promise.”

She smiled shyly.

“How will I give you the mobile phone?” he asked, “Can you come to your garden, or possibly outside your house at around six in the morning? The day after? By tomorrow I should have the phone as well as a number.”

“Like… sneaking out…” she looked incredulous.

“Just once…” he implored.

“If someone sees…” she thought hard and a solution struck her, “I was… thinking… that… my brother is coming in three days. Once he is here, I can send him to you. He will bring me the phone. He won’t talk about it. We can trust him.”

“Your brother?”

“Cousin actually. Chachaji’s son. He is pursuing engineering from IIT Delhi. Will be here for summer vacations and… the wedding…”

“Hmm… Okay…”

“But Mrinal ji…” she started asking tentatively, the stopped.

“Yeah? Tell me?”

“Don’t you… want to… know more about me? Before the wedding…” she completed her question with a lot of effort.

He smiled knowingly, “I know more about you than you can imagine.”

“How?”

“I will tell you someday,” his enigmatic smile continued and for the first time Antara noticed how charming his smile was, “But right now I must leave. I think jailor-approved meeting time is already up. I don’t want either of us to lose social currency.” He chuckled.

She was really disappointed and wanted to prolong her time with him and also wanted him to explain his mysterious claim of knowing her well. But what he had said jokingly was right. If the meeting went on any longer, it would become socially appropriate. So, she smiled slightly and nodded. She will have to wait until the wedding to see what was to become of her life! Whether the hopes would get fulfilled or crushed.

—

To be continued

“I had felt that there was something going on when you had intervened for her that evening. Mrs. Gupta is not very kind to her.”

“Nothing was going on, Papa.”

“In my defense, I did not tell anything to your mother. But what is the situation now? You don’t want this?”

“Papa. I am so confused…”

“Hmm…” Nishant Agarwal smiled at his son, “If it has come to being confused, from being certainly not interested, I guess I am going to let you go ahead with this.”

“But Papa. This is so sudden…”

“It will be fine. I respect it that you want to make your own decision, but I also think that you have started thinking so much that you will never make the decision. She is a fine girl. For once, I agree with your mother.”

—

It was all fixed between the families. Mrinal could not decide whether to be happy or to be anxious. He had seen a kindred soul in Antara having read her diary. But that was not enough. She didn’t know how he wanted to live his life. Would she be willing to share it? He was more hopeful when he had thought of her as a poor relative or house-help. But that wasn’t the case. How would Mr. Gupta’s niece like it that he wanted to live his life off his salary, and not use the family money? Since starting his job, he had never touched the money his father transferred to his account every month. His life wasn’t uncomfortable, but his wife wouldn’t exactly be able to afford buying jewelry every month.

Since summer vacations were going on, it was decided that the wedding would take place before his college opened; else getting long leave would be difficult for him. Guruji had anyway wanted them to get married within a month. So, there was no reason for delay.

Acting graciously, the families had decided to let the young couple spend some time with each other. Mrinal couldn’t believe that he was putting up with all this absurdity, when he was sent up to “see Antara’s room” amidst a lot of giggles and mock warnings to wait until marriage.

“This is ridiculous,” he mumbled as they entered her room; then looked at Antara wondering if he might have offended her. But she hadn’t heard him at all. She continued walking towards the window where two chairs were kept. He looked at her face; and the emotion he had felt, but not articulated, during their first meeting, came rushing back. The desire and passion. He wanted a particular lifestyle because he wanted happiness in life. But from now on, he could easily find his happiness if this woman standing before him would stop being anxious and smile freely. He would even embrace the family and money he had shunned all these years. He decided to let go of his anxieties. He would woo her, make her happy in whatever ways possible, and find happiness for himself that way. If he had stopped to think about it, he wouldn’t have believed that it was happening to him.

“Hello?” he said to draw her attention.

“Haan… Uh… I am so sorry. I…”

“Relax. Antara,” he said in such a soft voice that he himself didn’t think he possessed.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down, but he could see that her lips were still quivering.

Mrinal broke the silence again, because she seemed to be at a loss, “Shall we sit down?”

“Yes…. Of course… Please sit down,” that was another slip in etiquettes that she had not invited him to sit.

Mrinal did not comment on her nervousness again to avoid making her even more self-conscious. He went forward and took one of the chairs motioning her to sit on the other chair. She followed the suit.

Seeing her sitting there with downcast eyes, wringing her hands and barely able to contain shaking of her body, a thought entered his mind. He must confirm with her, and yet he must approach it delicately. He started with what he had already been meaning to ask her.

“Had somebody asked you for your consent about this… relationship?” he asked trying to sound as gentle as possible.

She looked up at him terrified. “Why…. Why are you asking this?”

He ignored her fear and continued in a conversational tone, “Because somebody must ask, Antara. I’m sorry that things happened in a way that… I couldn’t ask you earlier.”

She still looked confused, but less terrified, and replied tentatively, “I’m fine, Mrinal ji.”

“Are you sure? Because if there is any hesitation on your part, I should know now….”

“I wasn’t having any affairs, if that’s what you really wanted to ask about,” she said in a rare display of courage. She immediately bit her lips fearing that she might have said too much.

Mrinal was also taken by surprise at first; then he smiled. She had answered the question that had come to his mind after seeing her condition – what if she had somebody else in her life? It just wouldn’t do to force her into an “arranged” marriage then. “I wasn’t specifically asking about that, but it is good to know. Not because I care about you having a past. But because I would hate it if you were to get into this relationship unwillingly.”

She looked surprised at first; then a faint smile formed on her lips. Mrinal was satisfied. He sat back in his chair feeling relaxed. At least there wasn’t a complete reluctance on her side.

“Don’t you want to know anything about me? Anything you want to ask me?” he said.

“I… What should I… ask you? I know about you… Everyone does…”

“What could you possibly know about me?” he smiled patronizingly.

“That you are a physicist, have always been passionate about your studies, and you work as an assistant professor in Mumbai.”

“Those things tell you very little about a person.”

“Probably. But one can’t possibly know a person by asking questions either.”

“Fair enough…”

Just then there was knock on the door and a servant walked in with the tea trolley.

Antara prepared the tea and passed him a cup. After taking a sip, he reached out for sugar.

“You don’t take sugar in your tea, right?” she asked.

He gave an embarrassed grin as he dropped one spoonful of sugar in his cup.

“Why did you lie, then? You could have just taken one spoonful that day too….”

“If I had, then Auntie would have claimed that you should have known that everyone takes one spoonful of sugar.”

She bit her lips again, this time to suppress her smile that threatened to be too wide. He had done that to protect her!

“How much sugar do you take?” he asked trying to ignore how when she bit her lips, she seemed to be inviting him to do the same. To her lips! This easily aroused, raw, physical desire was totally alien to him until then; even though he was no novice as far as relationships with women were concerned.

“Two… Two spoonfuls…” she said. “I will take it,” she added as she saw him putting sugar in her cup.

“I can measure two spoonfuls of sugar,” he replied with a smile and handed her the cup after mixing the sugar well.

She looked more relaxed when she smiled this time. So, he ventured to propose an alternate arrangement for them to meet, “Honestly, I am extremely uncomfortable with us “meeting” in full public view. Would you like to go out sometime?”

Her smile disappeared and nervousness returned. “I… I am not sure Chachiji will allow.”

He frowned and replied after a pause. “And I am not exactly going to ask for somebody’s permission for two adults to go out.”

—

To be continued

The rational physicist in him recoiled and rebelled at the mayhem his house was in when he returned home. There was no way he was going to get an afternoon nap. Or a good night’s sleep for that matter. The entire household, and then some, were busy preparing for “Mata ka Jagrata”. Some particularly blessed Guruji was going to be present for the occasion which had made it more important than numerous such other functions happening throughout the year.

“I have a headache,” he informed his mother who shook her head in disappointment. When will her son find the right path? They should never have sent him away from home for his studies. But her husband had been adamant. She looked on sadly as he locked himself up in his room with his books, journals, laptop and the newly acquired Gupta Enterprises diary. Of course, she wasn’t aware of the last one being in his possession; or even of its existence.

—

Mrinal had his breakfast and lunch sent up to his room. But by the afternoon, he felt the need for some fresh air. As if the universe was conspiring to throw Anrata Arabesques in his way repeatedly, he saw his frantic mother being calmed down by her. “Relax Auntie. I have taken up the responsibility of prasad. It will be made right. And in time. Don’t worry about it…. Yes… Yes… Flowers are also in its way… Yes. Chachiji has told me that she will herself bring Guruji here…”

‘So much hypocrisy; such dishonesty; and such piety. How do these things go together in so many people? I hope God’s justice is what it is touted to be. Fair. But it becomes difficult to believe at times…’ he recalled from her diary and suddenly felt enraged. What did a girl, who had the ability to see through the frivolity, have to do with his mother’s pointless worries about prasad, flowers, and, worst of all, Guruji? But he quickly grew aware of the absurdity of his rage. What business did he have stealing her diary, and them presuming that he knew how her life should be run… Unless…

—

The elder of his two sisters, who was married and lived with her in-laws in the same city, was home for the jagrata with her entire clan including three children. The children were fascinated with their scientist mama and Mrinal also did not mind them. Children still offered him hope that adults never could. Both the sisters were younger to him. Younger one was yet to be married. When exactly had he stopped feeling tender towards them, he sometimes wondered. Probably precisely at the time when they were shedding their girlish persona and becoming more of the women of society, seamlessly absorbing all the politics, bickering, competition for dresses and jewelry and rich husbands that came with it. The elder one still managed to coax him at times. Today too, she had managed to make him wear a silk kurta and to draw a promise that he would be at the jagrata for at least a while.

“Minnie,” he decided to take advantage of the time he was spending in jagrata and ask her sister about Antara, “Who is that girl? The one who just came in with the laddoo wallah.”

“I see,” Mrinalini grinned, “You are asking about a girl. I will have to find out…”

“I am sorry, I asked…”

“No. No. Wait. You are asking about her? Antara?”

“Is that her name?” he feigned ignorance.

“Of course. Who in the family doesn’t know her? She is Gupta Uncle’s niece.”

“Niece!” Mrinal was taken aback. Why was she being treated like dirt by Mrs. Gupta? She didn’t look like a house-help, but he had expected her to be some distant, poor relative at best.

Mrinalini was called away by someone just then and Mrinal was thankful to have escaped further grilling and leg-pulling from his sister.  But knowing that Antara was Mr. Gupta’s niece had practically closed the chapter for him. She would expect to marry into an established business family, which his was. But he didn’t want to have anything to do with that life or lifestyle. He would have to figure out a way of giving her back the diary without being discovered as the thief. Soon after he slipped away from the function to get whatever little sleep he could behind the closed doors of his bedroom. He slept with the diary under his pillow, paranoid about it being discovered by someone.

—

In the morning, when he got up at his usual time, the commotion was less. The jagrata was over, but the Guruji was still around. Even though he had a slight headache because of two consecutive nights of bad sleep, he slipped out of the house for a jog. He didn’t want to be dragged into being blessed and preached by Guruji. He was prepared for the verbal onslaught from his mother about missing the golden opportunity of setting everything right in his life. But when he came back, that wasn’t what he met with.

Mohini Agarwal was in rather high spirits, grinning from ear to ear. She welcomed his son excitedly after his morning exercise. He, rightfully, grew suspicious.

“Everything all right, Mummy?”

“Yes. Yes. Everything will be all right with Guruji’s blessings…”

“I am not wearing a stone or a locket….”

“Don’t worry about all that. Everything will be good from now on. Why don’t you take your bath quickly? Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

He came to the breakfast table wearing a white kurta-paijama. Kurta’s pocket sheltered the diary, which he had still not found a way of returning and which he was terrified of leaving in his room. The servants in his house would dutifully stay away from touching any precious items like jewelry to prove their honesty. But beyond that they didn’t have much sense of respecting people’s privacy. And having done what he had done, stealing the diary of a young woman like that, he could hardly complain about anyone else trying to violate his privacy, he thought somewhat irritably.

“I showed your kundali to Guruji,” His mother informed him at the breakfast table, while his father shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“Okay,” he didn’t want to prompt her with a question like ‘why’. But that didn’t deter her.

“And he says that you should get married within a month. It is the best time.”

“Get married to whom?” he chuckled. “Did he find a girl too, who I would magically like?”

“He didn’t. You did.”

“Excuse me?”

“I spoke to Gupta ji and his wife too. And showed Antara’s kundali to Guruji as well.”

“What are you talking about, Mummy? Why would you show Antara’s kundali to Guruji and why are you telling me about it?”

“Why? Don’t you like her?”

“I… When did I say that?”

“So, you do like her?”

“When did I say that either?”

“Then you do like her.”

“Mummy. What has Minnie told you?”

“Enough that you must give me a very good reason to say ‘no’ to this proposal.”

“What is the guarantee that she will be happy with this?” he blurted out his real worry instead of continuing to evade as he should have done to have any chance of escaping his mother.

She grinned. “That is simple, right? We can ask her.”

“How would she know? She doesn’t know me at all,” Mrinal put up what he thought was a very potent fight. But his objection as swept aside with a laughter from his mother.

“Who doesn’t know anything about you in this mohalla? Everybody knows our professor sahib, beta. Don’t worry about that.”

“Fine. But I don’t know anything about her either.”

“Then ask me. And I assure you that she is your type. The best thing about her is that she fits in anywhere. She fits in here, in this society. And she will fit in with your professor-type friends too. She reads so much. Always has her head buried in a book, when not taking care of house or working on a painting.”

Mrinal cringed. His mother was talking about a girl fitting in like she was a piece of wall hanging that will fit in with the décor of his mother’s house as well as his own. But he didn’t know what to tell his mother just then. He finished the last mouthful of his breakfast and got up.

—

To be continued

“What the hell, Antara. Why is there no sugar in the tea?”

“Chachi ji, I have brought sugar separately. I wasn’t sure how much everyone would want…”

“What nonsense… You don’t know how much sugar…”

“Actually, she did the right thing, Auntie,” Mrinal interposed much to Mrs. Gupta’s annoyance, but she kept her feelings in check before her guest, which she wasn’t wont to doing before her niece. “I don’t take sugar in my tea,” he added, ignoring the surprised and amused glance from his father.

“Send some of the cookies we brought from Goa,” she practically barked at her niece as she added sugar in her tea. Antara went inside to carry out the instruction. But she didn’t come out with the cookies herself. A maid did. Mrinal was terribly disappointed.

He had been extremely reluctant to go to Guptas. But his father had insisted during their evening walk that he should also stop by their good neighbours. He was a grown up man now, and must learn to discharge his social duties. Apparently visiting neighbours in his father’s city also came under its ambit. A city he hadn’t spent much time in several years now. As he had sat there fully aware of every second that passed by and tried to ignore the sound of Mrs. Gupta’s constant chatter, which wasn’t letting his father or Mr. Gupta talk much, he had gotten something like a jolt on seeing this young woman come out with tea. She looked like a protagonist right out of the romance novels. Slim, fair, translucent skin carrying a healthy, pink glow, large eyes, clad in a simple, cream salwar kameez with a thin line of dupatta going around her neck, two gold ear-rings stretching her delicate earlobes and a thin gold bangle adorning each of her wrists. Mrinal didn’t think until then that any such thing as ethereal natural beauty existed. If the distress was missing in her countenance when she had entered, Mrs. Gupta’s rebuff had made up for it and she looked the proverbial damsel in distress as she withdrew from the room they were sitting in.

Who was she?

“So, you are settled in Mumbai, Beta?” Mr. Gupta’s question, which broke the monotone of Mrs. Gupta’s blabber, brought Mrinal out of his reverie.

“Uh… I like my job. So, I guess yes…” Even if he were to leave his job as an assistant professor in Mumbai, he was definitely not interested in coming back to Kolkata. Nothing moved in this sleepy city. Besides his parents and ancestors had created such deep roots here that everybody in this huge city was either a relative or a close acquaintance. The incessant social obligations it created was tiring for Mrinal. There would always be someone or the other visiting at home; there would always be a few social calls to be made; and there never was any conversation that excited him much. The same business issues, cricket and lame, superficial political discussions amongst men. The same jewelry, affairs, wedding and movies discussions amongst women. And it wasn’t like the close-knit community was happy together. Everyone always had some grouse or the other against someone or the other. The sides kept changing though. Two people who sounded like they would eat each other alive if it weren’t illegal were the best pals by the time Mrinal came to spend the next vacation with his parents.

“That’s good. That’s good. It is a city of opportunities. You can also help expand Agarwal Sahab’s . business in the city,” Mr. Gupta responded.

Mrinal just smiled trying not to appear condescending and bored. “He is a teacher by heart Gupta ji. He can’t be bothered with business and all,” his father, Nishant Agarwal, replied while throwing an affectionate smile at his son and patting his shoulder. Mrinal reciprocated his smile. His father was not a big talker, but his understanding was something Mrinal was thankful for. Otherwise charting a course away from the family business would not have been possible for him given the pressure and expectation from his entire extended family and his mother.

—

“Why don’t you tell us if there is a girl tucked away somewhere? Just how much time do you think you are going to take to get married? You are already thirty, beta. Good girls are not going to wait forever. In fact, they get married off earlier.”

“I know, Mummy…”

“If you know, then why aren’t you willing to meet the girls?”

“This is not how I can do things…”

“Then do it your way. Find a girl. So long as she is from our community, what problem can we have… It’s not like we will ask for a fat dowry or anything…”

“Right! That’s precisely how one goes about falling in love! Ask about community; and the dowry-giving capability of the parents…”

“No need to taunt me. I am thinking of your future only…”

“My future is in no grave danger because of my marital status, Mummy…”

“Leave him alone,” Mrinal’s father came to his rescue again.

“Leave him alone, indeed! So that he goes about his wayward ways. When he gets out of hands…”

“That’s enough, Mohini. Let him eat peacefully. Otherwise, he will leave this house sooner than he needs to…”

When his father got stern, his mother did usually shut up. It happened this time too, but not without a concluding grumble, “Men will never understand how much a mother worries or cares…”

“Thank you, Papa,” Mrinal said to his father later in the evening when they were alone.

“You are welcome, son. And while I don’t condone your mother’s pestering, I still share her dream. Of seeing you happily married. Don’t turn away from it just because you feel the need to be different from everyone. Everyone needs company. You are no exception.”

“I know, Papa. But I just can’t get into it this way…”

“That’s fine,” his father smiled at him, “Do it your way, in your time.”

—

But that night Mrinal Agarwal was restless. He tossed and turned in his bed for quite some time before falling asleep. This was unusual, because he was a quick sleeper. And he dreamed. Of an apsara from some TV serial he had watched in his childhood. Except that, he recalled on waking up, her face looked like Antara’s. What the hell! He looked at the clock. He hadn’t had a great sleep with all the dreaming. But he had woken up in time for a quick morning jog. He decided to go for it as it would help him clear his mind. He could always take an afternoon nap if the night’s sleep proved inadequate.

As he went round the park near Guptas’ house, despite himself, his steps traced the path of his yesterday’s reluctant social visit.  The main gate of the house was unlocked as was customary in the locality that prided itself in being safe. There was a large lawn and a garden on the way to the main house. Mrinal hesitated for a moment, but figured that an early morning tea-visit won’t be unwelcome in this society. And as an occasional visitor to the city, he would be especially welcome.

But he froze, when behind a wildly growing rose plant, he spotted her. There was a makeshift easel which she was striking a brush. The ease and boldness of her strokes emanated a confidence that wasn’t visible during their brief encounter yesterday. His train of thoughts were broken by the shrill voice of Mrs. Gupta, “Antara. Where the hell has that girl run off to? Filling up her drawing book again…”

“Coming Chachiji,” Antara hollered back, even her raised voice so much sweeter on ears than her Chachiji’s usual conversational one.

She left everything in a huff and ran off towards the house. She hadn’t noticed him, nor had anyone else. He did something about which he would be incredulous all his life. Where did he get that impulse from? He took long strides towards the easel and found that the boldness of her strokes had done justice to the half-done painting. He bent down and picked up some pieces folded art paper lying on the ground. More paintings. They could have benefitted from being painted on a proper canvas. But she obviously wasn’t getting any pampering or encouragement about them – “drawing book” as they were termed by Mrs. Gupta. Then he noticed a small faux-leather-bound diary, carrying the name of Gupta Enterprises, lying on beside the sheets.  Something she would have gotten from Mr. Gupta’s stationary, either stealthily, or owing to a moment of graciousness from him. Fully aware of how improper it was, he picked it up, and quickly flipped to the first hand-written page after ignoring the photographs of the deities and the last year’s calendar lying between the cover and that page. “Antara” stood out and still blended in the page filled with the pencil sketch of arabesque motifs. He shut the diary and, after looking around, slipped it into the pocket of his track suit. Then he quietly left the house.

—

To be continued