Mish' Fiction

Another year later…

“Miss!”

“Sumedha, what happened?”

“My Baba is here.”

“Why are you crying?” he came every year to pick her up for summer vacation.

“He is ill, Miss. Very ill.”

“Where is he?”

“In the guest house. Unconscious.”

“What? Oh God! Doctor… did you…”

“They called the doctor. I am so worried… What will happen to him?”

“Come with me. Stop crying, nothing will happen.”

In these five years, she had prayed every single day for his well-being. From the fragments of Sumedha’s report of summer vacations, she had suspected that he was not in the best of his health. But she hadn’t imagined it to be this bad.

“Drinking! He cannot afford another drop of alcohol,” the doctor told Piyali as she took charge of the situation at the guesthouse, “His liver will give way!”

She gasped in horror. Mukundo Babu! Uncontrolled drinking? She looked around to ensure that Sumedha had not heard it; then escorted the doctor outside.

—

“Take the key, Sumedha, go to my house and stay there. I had cooked lunch; help yourself to it. And don’t worry about your Baba. Just let him rest for a while, and then he would fine. Okay? Can you do this for me, Sumedha?”

After reassuring Sumedha and sending her away, she shut the door to the room without locking it and sat on a chair beside his bed. She took his hand in hers, closed her eyes and started chanting all mantras from Durga Shaptashati that her mother had made her memorize as a child. In between, when she could not contain herself, she prayed to the Goddess in her own simple words. “Spare him, Ma, spare him. He is not guilty. I am. How will I ever face Sumedha should something happen to him? Take my life, Ma, and spare him!”

She did not realize that he had gained consciousness, until he spoke. “You came?” Her heart stopped. That voice, after so many years! Weak, but unmistakably his. She opened her eyes slowly, as if afraid that it was a dream that will break if she hurried through anything.

“I’m very happy to see you,” he spoke again, smiling, with an effort.

“What have you done to yourself? Oh God! I am sorry. I am sorry, Mukudo Babu.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“For everything. For everything I did. I am so ashamed of even apologizing…”

“But I love you. More than ever.”

She broke down completely and started sobbing, burying her face in her hands.

“What is going on?” The door was pushed opened suddenly and Sumedha barged in, panting. “Why are you crying, Miss?” She looked at her father and burst out. “What did you tell her to make her cry? What did you do to her?”

“Sumi…” Mukundo was baffled. He was only half-awake and had imagined it all to be dream. Only now did he become aware that Piyali was indeed there. In the guesthouse of his daughter’s school. He tried to sit up, but was stopped by Piyali. Her face was tear-stained, but startled by Sumedha’s entry, she had stopped crying.

“I was too young. I came here silently, when you gave up on me – yet again. I had believed that since I was motherless, there was no other option. But that innocent delusion could not last long, could it? I still had my father. He could still have given me a home. But no! He chose not to. Four weeks in a year – that was all he had for me. Four bloody weeks. All through this, who was one person who made me feel wanted? Who was one person who loved me, welcomed me at any hour, nursed me through sickness, helped me with studies, treated me when I won prizes, and gave me shoulder to cry on? It was her, Baba. For my sake, she came here to look after you. And this is what you have for her too? Tears? What did you do to make her cry?”

Piyali had collected herself by then. “Enough Sumedha. You are out of your mind. Is this the way to talk to your Baba?”

“Oh! You are on his side now, are you?”

Piyali was tongue-tied yet again. She had never seen Sumedha like this. If she had always had so much bitterness against her father, she never showed it. Disappointment? Yes. But such vitriolic anger?

“Sumedha. It is nothing like what you have made it out to be. Give us some time. We will explain everything. He did not make me cry. Take my words for it.”

“Why were you crying then?” The child grew embarrassed on realizing that her outburst might have been uncalled for. And that the bitterness she had kept hidden till then was out in the open.

“I will explain. At a suitable time. Now apologize to your Baba. I can’t believe you could say such horrid…”

“No Piyali,” Mukundo still did not understand Piyali’s presence there, but he was more collected than earlier, “She does not need to apologize. She might be wrong about you. But she wasn’t wrong about herself or me. I have failed her. She has every right to be bitter.”

A child’s grudge against her parents, howsoever strongly held, is not like an adult grudge that overshadows all other emotions. Despite her dissatisfaction, despite his failings and absence, her father was the ultimate safe-haven for her. Thinking that she might have alienated him for life, she broke down.

“And now you hate me. You won’t come for me ever again.”

“What has gotten to you, Sumi,” he made to get out of bed, but Sumedha stopped him even before Piyali could. “No! You are not well. Stay in bed.”

“Come here, then.”

He pulled his daughter in his embrace and murmured, “I am sorry. I know how inadequate I have been. You have every right to hate me. But even in my dreams I cannot hate my daughter.”

“Have you eaten?” Piyali asked her gently.

She nodded.

“Do you want to lie down?”

“I will,” she went to the sofa lying in the other corner of the room. Piyali went with her and caressed her head until she fell asleep. Mukundo watched on. It felt like a dream.

—

To be continued

Piyali was teaching senior classes. It was a good thing, because if she reached out to Sumedha and took interest in her, it won’t amount to her favoring a student. But that also made it difficult for her to make contact with the child. Finally she found an opportunity. Sumedha had gotten the gift of soulful voice from her father and her talent was apparent even at that young an age. She had been picked up for an upcoming music program in the school. Piyali pretended interest in the program, which wasn’t completely false, and went for the practice sessions.

Sumedha was painfully shy in the beginning, and also very fearful and dejected of the boarding life, but Piyali knew her way around the kids. She got her to open up slowly. But their relationship was sealed when Sumedha fell ill soon after the programme.

“I prefer to send children to their parents when they are so ill,” the warden confided in Piyali when she visited her in the sick room, “They are better cared for, and the risk of infecting other kids is not there. But her father lives in the US.”

“Is it okay, if I took her to my house?”

“Do you know her? You seem to take quite an interest in her.”

Piyali sighed and then replied cryptically, “She reminds me of someone I have lost.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s silly really, but…”

“I don’t think so. I will ask the principal. If he is okay with it…”

—

The principal didn’t mind and Piyali brought the half-unconscious child to her two-room house in teachers’ quarter. She applied for all the casual leaves she had accumulated. For the first two days, fever would not relent. Piyali barely even blinked and spent all the time by the sick bed, taking her temperature, giving her cold strips, feeding her liquid and semi-solid food according to the doctor’s advice, cleaning up if she soiled the bed and praying for her health.

Finally on the third day, Sumedha opened her eyes. “Pishima,” she mumbled, still unaware of her surroundings. Piyali felt a lump in her throat and controlled her tears with some effort.

“It’s me, Sumedha. Miss Banerjee. Are you feeling better?”

“I am thirsty.”

“Not a problem… Let me help you sit up… There… Good girl… Here you go… Water….”

Hardly had she had her fill of water, when she threw up.

“Oh God! Relax, relax, sweetie,” she rubbed the child’s back to help her. Partly from the exhaustion of vomiting and partly from the guilt of soiling the bed, Sumedha started crying.

“It’s over, it’s over Sumedha. You will feel much better now. Stop crying,” Piyali comforted her as she cleaned her up. Then she took her to the other room, lay her down on the clean bed and cuddled her.

“You are not angry?”

“What for?”

“I spoiled the bed.”

“You are ill, Sumedha. What could you have done? Don’t be silly. Just give me ten minutes. I will bring you something to eat.”

“I don’t want to eat.”

“But you must. Otherwise you will not recover.”

“I will throw up again.”

“Then I will clean it up again. It’s not your problem, sweetie.”

—

Two years later…

“You used to stay in Kolkata, Miss?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Did you know my mother?”

“No, Sumedha. Why do you ask?”

“Just like that. Would she have been like you if she had lived?”

“A thousand times better than me,” she turned away on some pretext to wipe her tears.

—

Another two years later…

“Mukundo, she is still not married. I know that for sure,”

“Who Boudi?”

“Piyali. Who else?”

“Why are you telling me that?”

“Come on, Mukundo. You know very well…”

“Who told you about it? It was not supposed to be known…”

Maitrayee sighed.

“Baba?”

She nodded.

“Hmm! He wouldn’t want to let an opportunity to insult a woman pass, would he? Did he taunt you for how your niece behaved?”

“Let it go, Mukundo. He is the elder of the family. I don’t take to heart anything he says.”

“Then why are you telling me about her?”

“Nobody knows what it was. But she was young, Mukundo. If she did make a mistake…”

“What do you want, Boudi?”

“Talk to her once?”

“Is she in Kolkata?”

“No.”

“Where then?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t want anyone to know. And Kaku worries about her, but respects her wish.”

“So let her be, Boudi. She won’t lack suitors. She has everything going for her.”

“And you? What do you have going for you except drinking?”

“Precisely why I shouldn’t talk to her.”

—

“How was your vacation, Sumedha?”

“One month is still left, isn’t it? But as usual, Baba could not stay away from his job for more than four weeks.”

“You go to your Kaku’s place, right?” She remembered Maitrayee’s and Shroban’s cozy, little home. One she would never go back to!

“Yes. Also visited my Pishima for a week. But Kaki insists on Baba staying with them. She wanted me to stay on, even after Baba had left. But Baba wouldn’t agree.”

“Well. Good you came back. Else I would have been bored.”

“Why do you always come back early, Miss?”

“I never go, Sumedha. Kolkata is bad in summers, isn’t it? My family comes here to meet me.”

“Are they still here? Should I go back to the hostel?”

“No. Your room is ready. They have already left.”

—

To be continued

Back in his hotel room, Mukundo cried bitterly. He sobbed like a child. He was angry. He threw stuff around, broke some. In a matter of few weeks, everything had been given to him; and everything had been taken away. Why? It was unfair! It was not right. Why should it happen to him? In one way or the other? Again and again?

But as the evening settled down, so did he. Well – it was his fault. What was he thinking proposing to a girl half his age? Then hardly spending any time with her and leaving her behind with nothing to look forward to? Of course, she was dissatisfied. What did she lack? Beauty, intelligence, charm? Nothing. Why should she not go for the best suitor? Only if she hadn’t done it like this… But that only shows how trapped she must have felt. He had been unfair to her. Very unfair. He deserved his pain. And yet – it was excruciating, intolerable. He needed to do something about it.

He reached out for the mini-bar.

—

After the evening spent in crying and lamenting, she collected herself together. An idea had crossed her mind and she decided to look up the possibilities on the Internet.

She did not know how the news would be broken to the family. Would Mukundo call her grand-father or would she be expected to tell him on her own? But she was prepared to face it. There was no looking away from what she had done.

It happened right after she had her final conversation with Rohan and told him to never call her again.

“Pihu!” Mr. Banerjee was incredulous, “What is this? What is it that Mukundo has written?”

Piyali saw the stamp on the envelop. It was posted from US. He must have taken the very next flight back and would have written as soon as he reached there.

“What has he written, Dadu?”

He quietly handed her the letter. It was neat, handwritten letter, in crisp, accurate Bengali.

Respected Banerjee Babu,

 

I hope this letter finds you in best of health. I am afraid that what I am going to tell you would come as a surprise, probably an unpleasant one, to you. But I sincerely request you to not be angry or disheartened by it.

 

Piyali and I have mutually decided to end our relationship. It wasn’t to be, and I am happy that we hadn’t gone through the engagement. I beg you to not be cross with her about it and bless her in her choice of life-partner. She is a wonderful and intelligent girl.

Her hand shook as she read that, but she willed it to be steady and continued reading.

I am sure, she would do very well.

 

I am making good progress with my research work here and hope to start writing my thesis in next few months.

 

Convey my regards to everyone in the family.

 

Yours

Mukundo

She handed the letter back to her grand-father and nodded. “So it is, Dadu.”

“Why? What went so wrong? And what does he mean by… Is there someone else in your life, Pihu?”

“No Dadu. Don’t ask me what I can’t tell you. Just know that it was all my doing.”

“You couldn’t have done something that can’t be forgotten and forgiven, Pihu. Tell me what it was. I will speak to Mukundo. I am sure –”

“Dadu! Ever since Baba died, you have devoted yourself to my upbringing. You have always made my life easier, my way smoother by fighting my battles, by compensating for my shortcomings. But Dadu, I am no longer a child. I have to accept consequences of my actions. The fact is, Dadu, that he is too good for me. He deserves better than me. I beg you, Dadu, not to say a word to him. And if possible – to forgive me.”

Mr. Banerjee sighed and rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.

“Dadu–”

“No. You are right. You are a grown woman now. I shouldn’t… I can’t…”

“Dadu please,” her eyes filled up despite her best attempts to stay calm, “I’m sorry. I am really sorry. You are in this awkward situation with Mukundo Babu because of me… I make you feel ashamed, don’t I? Dadu–”

“Pihu. I can never be ashamed of you, my child. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone gets their chance to make mistakes. But if you can correct it, or ask for forgiveness…”

“I can’t correct it, Dadu. May be someday I would have done something to deserve forgiveness. But that time is not now.”

“I trust you. And Pihu – don’t worry about me and Mukundo. I am really fond of him, but if I have to choose between you and him, it’d always be you. I hope you have never been uncertain about it.”

“I am a very lucky girl, Dadu. And I have been very stupid.”

“You are young, my child. You have the right to be stupid once in a while.”

“Dadu. There is something else…”

“What?”

“I don’t want to work in Kolkata, Dadu. I… I need to…”

“Get away?”

She nodded.

“Have you already planned something?”

“There is a school in Darjeeling…”

“So far?”

“It’s a boarding school, Dadu. And they have teachers’ accommodation in the campus. It is safe and convenient.”

“Okay. If that’s what makes you happy…”

“Ma won’t like the idea…”

“Leave that to me… By the way, do you realize something, Pihu?”

“What?”

“This is the first time we have had such an honest, long, grown-up conversation.”

“I hadn’t grown up until now.”

—

To be continued

While she looked at all the outward signs that Mukundo’s commitment to the relationship was really not great, she forgot to look within her. She didn’t realize that the weakness was in her own feelings and not Mukundo’s. She had been fascinated by him, an older, accomplished man. Him noticing her satisfied her vanity, made her proud. And she fancied herself to be in love with him. But in reality she didn’t know him enough as a person. She didn’t know the good and the bad about him. She didn’t appreciate his strength in not binding her, while himself being committed to her. She didn’t understand his weakness in running away from caring for his daughter. She just didn’t know enough about him to fall in love with him.

Now that he was away, her own weaknesses were reflecting in her assessment of his love for her.

“Piyali! How have you been?”

“Rohan! Where are you calling from?”

“Kolkata.”

“What?”

“I had promised you, I’d come for you. Where shall we meet?”

“Rohan – you don’t understand. I can’t meet you… Not like this.”

“Why not?”

“Rohan. I am enga…. committed.”

“I’d respect that if you tell me that you don’t care for my feelings.”

“Rohan!”

“You feel it yourself, don’t you?”

Finally, she had asked him for a week’s time before she could answer.

—

He had insisted on no engagement. He had even forbidden her from talking about their relationship. Because he wanted to keep her free. So, why shouldn’t she act free. Yes – she would just tell him that she… But wait! What would she tell him? She wasn’t the reason it wasn’t working out. He was. But he would protest if she claimed that he did not lover her. How would she counter him?

It wasn’t all that simple. Seized by an inflated sense of entitlement she couldn’t bring herself to take responsibility for breaking the relationship. It had to be about him.

But how?

—

Piyali sobbed in her pillow to muffle the sound. But it was the inaudible cry of his heart that was deafening her. What had she done? What had possessed her? How had she managed to behave so shamefully? And how could she break the heart of a man like him?

But the irreversible damage was done. She had told him that horrific tale.

The damned idea had come to her from watching an old movie, where the heroine was raped and was then not considered good enough to get married to the hero.

He was an old-fashioned man, she had thought. And had told him that she had been raped. Unlike the disgust she had imagined, which would lead him to break up the relationship, he had been shocked and worried. He had shown nothing but concern for her well-being.

“Don’t worry, Piyali. You don’t worry at all. I am coming there and it will be all right…”

“No!” she had cried. If he came there and everybody got to know…. How would she ever deal with her lie? “Mukundo Babu. I haven’t told anyone. I don’t want to… Please understand…” she had started crying for her own reasons, but he had thought it was the trauma and fear of other people’s reaction.

“Don’t cry… Please Piyali. Don’t cry. You don’t want anyone knowing. No one would know. Okay?”

He had still taken the next available flight and had called her at once after landing.

“I am not going home. I am at this hotel – Casa Fortuna. I am texting you the address. Just come here.”

When she had reached the hotel, he had hugged her so tight that she had been unable to breathe. To her utter humiliation, he had then covered her face with his kisses, and tears. All the passion she had thought was missing had come pouring out of him! And all this right there in the lobby. For anyone to see. He didn’t care!

“Thank God, you are safe. Piyali! I would never be able to forgive myself for leaving you behind… ” he had said making no attempts at hiding his distress and tears.

Words had refused to leave her throat and her mouth had gone too dry to even make any meaningless sound.

“But how preoccupied with my own misery I am,” he had chuckled in embarrassment, “What should we do… yes… Have you seen a doctor since… Have you eaten…”

Her stomach churned. She had indeed not eaten anything since making that call to him and receiving his unexpected reaction.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she finally stole a fragment of her voice.

“Mukundo Babu…. I… I am sorry…”

“Sorry? For what? It’s not your…”

“I don’t deserve all this. I don’t deserve this care, this concern. I don’t deserve you, Mukundo Babu…”

“Don’t be nonsensical, Piyali. You can’t possibly think that because of this… this accident I would…”

“No. Mukundo Babu. Please let me complete. My shame is too big to let me speak. But it would be even bigger, if I don’t speak the truth now. Yes – you wouldn’t reject someone you love just because she has been raped. But you would if she lied about it…”

“What do you mean?” His grip slackened; she freed herself completely from it and stepped away from him.

“I had lied, Mukundo Babu.” She knew she could never look in his eyes after this. And she would never ever be loved like that again. Not by him, because she had just strangled his love for her with her own hands. Not by anyone else, because no one else was capable of loving her like him. Her life was finished. And the worst part was that she had destroyed his too in the process. She deserved her life-long pain.

“Lied? Why?”

She stood silent with her head literally hanging in shame.

“Why?” he asked again, more agitated now.

“Why Piyali?” it was as close to shouting as he could get.

“I… I thought,” she scrambled for words, “I thought you wouldn’t want me after this…”

“You wanted to end this relationship? You… you love someone else?”

No! She wanted to cry out – I love nobody other than you. Not any longer. But it was too late. She had been given on a plate the best the life had to offer. She had squandered it away. And now she had no claims on it. Not only that, she had no right to even tell that to him. She had no right not to be humiliated by him. That was the least he should be doing to her.

“You were always free, you know!”

Should she fall on her knees? Should she beg for forgiveness? Should she offer herself as a life-long servant to him? To make-up for this sin?

But she did nothing. She stood still, head hung so low that he could not see her tears.

“Leave Piyali. Just leave.”

She saw his boots as he turned on his heels. He was unsteady as he walked back to his room. Where was his long, confident stride? She had destroyed that too!

And now there was nothing left. She might as well end her life.

“Pihu. Shona. Are you unwell? Why are you locked up in your room?” her grand-father knocked on her door.

“I didn’t sleep well last night, Dadu. Just let me sleep.” What was a little more lie to her now? She was a veteran of lying, a veteran of destroying all that was good, tender and lovely in life. There was nothing that she could not ruthlessly destroy from now on.

—

To be continued

It had hardly been a week since Mukundo had left, but Piyali’s restlessness was driving her mad. How could less than a week with a man change the meaning of everything? She no longer enjoyed any of her usual pursuit. Reading, dancing, friends in neighborhood, the little kids, nothing and nobody interested her. In the few days he treated her as the love of his life, he had awoken the woman in her. The women who pined for her lover, who wanted to shower her love and care on him as much as he did on her, and who could no longer be bothered about her girlish interests.

“Pihu? Is something the matter, child?” Her grand-father finally could not help asking. She had been spending hours in her room alone and as far as he had noticed doing absolutely nothing.

“No Dadu. Why do you ask?”

“You look pale and starved…”

“I guess, I am just bored, Dadu. The school doesn’t start for another two weeks.”

The old man sighed. Both of them were skirting around the issue. His grand-daughter was obviously not comfortable in discussing her love life with him. An idea struck him.

“Hadn’t you mentioned that Sonali was in Haldia?” Sonali was Piyali’s school-friend who had been married soon after her graduation and now had a baby girl. She was visiting her parents in Haldia then. “Why don’t you go and visit her? It will be a change for you. Her father had called me the other day. Her daughter is apparently quite a handful already. Should keep you busy too.”

Piyali liked the idea. Everything in Kolkata seemed to have been marked by Mukundo for her now. Going back to her childhood home could help her calm down. She left the same day.

—

The introduction and initial friendship had been harmless enough. Rohan was Sonali’s cousin who stayed in the same neighborhood and worked as a plant manager at the Tata Chemicals factory. The three of them made quite a gang and went about having fun while Sonali’s parents were happy to take care of her daughter.

But over her ten-day stay, things did not remain as innocent. At first it was the pranks and complements. He made her laugh and feel special. Despite herself, she started liking his company. Then he started bumping into her when she was alone.

“Did I startle you?”

“No. Just surprise…”

“What were you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he would arch his eyebrows.

“Well, nothing important,” she would chuckle.

“Tell me about nothing important, then. There wasn’t much work at office today. I am at leisure.”

“Arr…”

“What?”

“You are impossible.”

“I am totally possible for you. But you don’t want to try… Let’s see… Why is it? Your eyes – ah! Your eyes. That’s it. What are you hiding from me?”

Although she never told him what she was really hiding – her informal engagement with Mukundo, because he had forbidden her to say anything even to her friends. “Defeats the entire purpose,” he had briefly said and changed the subject. But Rohan did get her to talk. About herself, her family, her childhood in Haldia, her father whom she missed even more in Haldia than in Kolkata….

And then the day before she was to leave, he did what her experience with Mukundo wouldn’t have prepared her for in a thousand years.

He came rushing to her while she was in the backyard.

“You are leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you would stay longer.”

“That was never the plan.”

“I had hoped you would extend your stay.”

“Rohan…”

He grabbed her and before she could figure out what had happened pressed his lips to hers. Piyali felt dizzy. Not from the effect of the kiss, but simply from the unexpectedness of it. What was happening? She should stop him. It was wrong. Mukundo Babu! She was engaged…

“Piyali. You are the most intelligent woman I have ever knows. Surely you know by now what you mean to me. And you cannot deny me my life’s only happiness. I will come to Kolkata soon and I will call you…”

Sonali called her from inside the house just then, and she rushed in.

But she was not engaged… He had never agreed for the engagement. And yet – it would be wrong. Would it? How different her experience with Rohan and Mukundo had been. She was always insecure with Mukundo. She could not believe that a man of his age and stature can really be in love with her. And he didn’t show the desperation Rohan showed for her. Was she was just a convenient choice for him?

—

Human mind has this extra-ordinary ability to find justifications for whatever it believes in. Once the idea that she was just a convenient choice, and not really a passionate love interest for Mukundo entered Piyali’s head, she started finding all sorts of reasons to believe it. If she had believed otherwise, she would have known that his phone calls were short because he was working hard to finish his thesis in time. Instead she thought he wasn’t really interested in talking to her, and the calls were just a formality. She could have seen how tender and protective his feelings towards her were, when he abstained from being a demanding and aggressive lover, but she saw the lack of passion in him. The decision to postpone the wedding until his Ph. D., which she herself had earlier seen as a mark of respect for his father, now seemed like a weak alibi to her. Her feelings nose-dived further, when she visited Mukundo’s house on her grand-father’s insistence. Mrinmoyee was visiting for the first time after her wedding and Mr. Banerjee thought it would be a good idea for Piyali to get acquainted with her. It wasn’t Mrinmoyee’s intent to make her feel isolated, but she was surrounded by her friends when Piyali went there. They could hardly have an intimate conversation appropriate for future sister-in-laws with so many people around them and Piyali felt that Mrinmoyee deliberately didn’t even try. It didn’t help that the one-time Mr. Thakur came downstairs to discuss something with his daughter he did not even acknowledge her presence.

—

To be continued

“Wedding or not, Mukundo Babu, I can take care of Sumedha. You do not need to send her to the boarding.”

“I can’t do that, Piyali. That won’t be fair to you. Especially when even I am not around. Besides… Piyali. This is something you may not like to hear right now. But I want you to listen, very carefully.”

“What?”

“Banerjee Babu asked me for an engagement. But I refused…”

She looked at him, puzzled.

He stopped for a moment to check her reaction, then continued, “Piyali. You are young. I don’t want to bind you…”

“What do you…”

“No. Don’t say anything. It doesn’t change anything right now. It doesn’t change my feelings for you. It doesn’t change my commitment to you. But you are not committed, Piyali. One year is not a short period of time. If you change your mind… you are free to… And now we will not talk about it. I am really hungry now.”

“Piyali,” he reached out and touched her cheek as he saw her looking out of the car, embarrassed and ashamed, “I had to do the right thing. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t trust you. Just forget it. Please. I need to see you smile. I depend on you being happy.”

Aware of his warm hand on her cheek, she couldn’t help melting at his words. She nodded and smiled.

“That’s better,” he said and put his hand back on steering, “Let’s get some food.”

—

He buckled himself into his window seat and leaned back. People were still boarding the flight and it would be a while before he would have to put his backrest upright. And until then he needed to withdraw from humdrum of passengers trying to find their seats, arranging their luggage and placating their kids.

She hadn’t cried on the airport.

“I made a promise to myself that I won’t cry. You are going to do what is important to you. It would be bad omen if there were tears,” she had said. Her trembling lips, blinking eyes and fisted fingers were telling the story of her exertion; how great an effort she was putting into keeping her promise to herself.

The plan was to focus completely on his Ph. D. and come back only after he had defended his thesis. It would be at least a year before he would behold that face in person again. It would be that long before he would feel the warmth of her proximity and smell of her shampooed hair. He had been unable to restrain himself. He had pulled her close, cupped her face and planted a kiss on her forehead. She hadn’t opened her eyes for a while. He had made it even more difficult for her to keep her promise.

“Open your eyes, Piyali. Let me look into them. Don’t worry about tears. Your tears can’t be bad omen for me.”

“No!” she had turned away to wipe her face and had then turned back to him. “I have to keep my promise.” She had smiled after that and he had followed the suit.

“Stay happy, Piyali. And don’t worry about anything. And yes – do well in your job.”

“You too. Plus you should also do your job fast.”

“Seat upright please, Sir.” He opened his eyes. Everyone had settled in. The flight was about to take off. And he was scared. Not of flying. But of leaving. Leaving her behind. That doomed conversation with his father…

“Marry? You want to marry again?”

“Yes Baba.”

“Marry who?”

“Piyali.”

“Who is she?”

“Maitrayee’s cousin…”

“That headmaster’s daughter?”

“Banerjee Babu’s daughter, yes.”

“One-time foolishness was not enough for you? You want to marry again? And to whom? A headmaster’s daughter. Aporna at least connected you to a good family…”

“Baba. Please. Stop this. I don’t need a rich family.”

“Quite young she is, isn’t she? Has managed to turn your head with her antics–”

“Baba. I just came to inform you. Don’t make me say it, but I don’t need–”

“Right! And what about your Ph. D.? You want to go back to being the school-master again? Or do you intend to do something better with your life.”

“I was very proud to be a teacher. And I haven’t thought about the next steps yet. Piyali and Sumedha could come with me…”

“Listen son. You are not going to get through your Ph. D. with two little chits to take care of. And don’t give me that I-don’t-need-your-permission look. I had paid for your tickets to America. And you haven’t exactly been living off your meagerly scholarship.”

Mukundo gritted his teeth. Was it going to be a seventies’ movie in his life now? Was his father going to disown him and take away the family money and property from him?

“I can live without it, Baba. I am not so spoiled…”

His father looked sharply at him. “Don’t be an emotional fool. Anyway. Here is the thing. You are determined to marry her, right? And I am sure his family is in no mood to let you go either. So, why don’t you do this? You go back to US, alone. Finish your Ph. D. Come back and get married to whosoever you want.”

“You want me to finish my Ph. D. before getting married?”

“Yes. That’s all I am asking for.”

“It can take more than a year.”

“The girl is not getting old, is she? Can’t she wait for you for a year? Love can withstand that much, I am sure.”

His father was convinced that the separation of a year will be the end of his relationship. Mukundo hesitated not only because he was now pining for her company, but also because he found himself affected by his father’s conviction. She was young. One year could make a whole lot of difference. But if it does… That’s when he had made up his mind.

“Fine. If that’s what your wish is, we’d marry after my Ph. D. is finished.” And he had also decided that he won’t bind her.

—

To be continued

Just when she was to fall into an abyss of disappointment and depression, her phone rang. It was him!

She picked the phone with trembling hands, and croaked into the microphone. “Hello, Mukundo Babu…”

“Wait…” There was some hushed conversation in the background, “Please Sumi. Boarding will be fine… Okay – give me five minutes. I have to talk on phone…” Finally, he managed to send Sumedha away and she heard his deep voice.

“Piyali… Hi! Sorry…”

“Is she still going to boarding?”

“Umm… right now… yes… We’ll see. I don’t want to raise her hopes… I mean, there is so much to figure out still…”

What was there to figure out? They were to get married and raise Sumedha together. She need not go to boarding. Did he not trust her to take care of his daughter?

“Is something wrong, Mukundo Babu?”

“No! No, nothing at all. I will come tomorrow morning. After breakfast…”

“Okay.”

“Piyali!”

“Yes.”

“I got your number from Boudi. But I haven’t told her anything yet.”

“Umm… Okay. I will stay silent too?”

“For now – yeah.”

“Okay, then…”

“I will see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Good night, Mukundo Babu.”

“Good night.”

Did he have no curiosity about her? Did he not want to know how she recognized his number? She was about to disconnect the call, disappointed, when she heard him again.

“Piyali!”

“Yes.”

“Take care!”

The sincerity with which he spoke those two words swept away all her annoyance and disappointment. ‘I am an idiot,’ she told herself later in the evening, ‘He is just being a gentleman!’ Of course. Wasn’t it a gentleman she had fallen in love with? How could she expect him to behave like a teenager? That won’t do. She would do it like him. Slowly, gradually.

—

It took her a long time to sleep. Her imagination was running wild. She imagined him lying next to her. She thought about sleeping in his strong, reassuring arms, about sharing her childhood doll stories with him, mimicking her college professors for him; she also thought about discussing Sumedha and her school problems with him, of planning her future. She would also ask him about his childhood, his school, college…. They would travel together in summer holidays… It was only because she did fall asleep that she did not think all the way to their old years.

The result of sleeping till late was that she woke up late too. On noticing that it was already nine in the morning, she jumped out of bed. He had promised to come after breakfast. He might already be…

“But Baba, we are talking about a year. Would it look good if she went about the town with him alone…” Piyali heard her mother talking to her grand-father. So, her mother was not enthusiastic about this relationship!

“Come on, Debangi. We are talking about Mukundo. She could have gone alone with him anytime in all these years.”

“But…”

“Debangi! This is twenty-first century. Piyali is not a child and…”

“Baba! I know you want the best for her. But I am her mother too. And there are far too many things that I don’t like about Mukundo. He is not only so much older to her, but also a widower, with a child. Doesn’t my daughter deserve better?”

“Debangi. It’s her choice…”

“Choice! And would it also be her choice that wedding can’t happen for one year, and there won’t even be an engagement and nobody can be told about this…”

“What is going on?” Piyali approached them and interjected.

“Nothing,” Mr. Banerjee spoke before Debangi could, “You are late, Piyali. Get ready quickly. Mukundo is waiting for you. Debangi! Please send some tea and biscuits, please.”

Debangi stomped off displaying as much displeasure with her manners as she could without disobeying her father-in-law.

“Your mother is not too happy,” he told Piyali, “But don’t worry about it. Mukundo wants to go out with you. Get ready, quickly.”

Piyali ran to the bathroom. It was quite a task – balancing two equally strong wishes. One of spending enough time of her grooming and makeup to look good for him. And the other of being with him as soon as possible.

—

Her throat went dry, and she felt a buzz in her ears as he held the car door for her. To be treated like a woman, by a man… by her man… by Mukundo Babu. She would have swooned, if she had not gotten into her seat immediately.

“Did you have your breakfast?” he asked as the car backed out of her front yard.

“No… I mean, yes.” They were supposed to meet after breakfast!

He chuckled, “Me neither. Let’s get something to eat first.”

The tension dissolved. She also laughed.

“This is better. You know it is very odd to see you tense and nervous. You should remain relaxed. The world is not coming to an end.”

“It is equally odd to hear you stuttering or finding you confused like you were last night. You should remain self-assured.”

His smile turned into a grimace.

“I… I am sorry, Mukundo Babu. I didn’t realize I said something offensive.”

“Oh Piyali! No – I am sorry. I am making you anxious,” he pulled up to the curb. “I thought I would bring it up after breakfast. But… Piyali. I spoke to my Baba yesterday. Obviously, I had to.”

“He is not happy?” She remembered the unfinished concern Mr. Banerjee had expressed last evening about his father.

“No. No. That’s not the case… He just doesn’t want the wedding until I finish my Ph. D. That is, another year at least.”

“Oh!”

“Piyali. It’s not some kind of military order. It’s just his wish. And if it doesn’t suit you, we don’t have to agree to it–”

“No. What are you saying? How can I ask you to disobey your Baba? You are lucky to have him…”

“Piyali!”

“Sorry!” she wiped a drop of tear that had managed to get out of her eyes despite her blinking. “I just…”

“You miss your Baba, I know.”

She nodded and forced a smile.

“Your are brave girl, Piyali. You manage to smile through everything.”

“Now you are embarrassing me,” she said, but her face glowed with pride at his praise.

“I don’t think so. But I will not say any more on that.”

—

To be continued

“So, just another week here, Mukundo?” Mukundo was having tea with Mr. Banerjee.

He nodded.

“Sumedha?”

“I am dropping her to the boarding the day after.”

“Nothing better?”

“Not at least until I finish Ph. D. A year, at least.”

“And then?”

“Then?”

“What after Ph. D.? What will you do?”

“I’ll see.”

“Mukundo!”

“What?”

“Mukundo. There is a reason Sumedha’s life is so scattered. The reason is that your own life is like that. You need to settle down. You need to get married.”

Mukundo leaned back and let out a sigh. “Get married!” he mumbled.

“Mukundo. It wasn’t your fault that Aporna died.”

He straightened, startled, “When did I say it was?”

“I am glad to hear you say that. Because you have behaved like it was.”

“Who shall I ask to marry me, Banerjee Babu? It’s too late and I am too broken and burdened.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You have your entire life before you. If you think there aren’t any eligible women, you would be in for a surprise. So many parents have asked me…”

“Would you allow Piyali to marry me?”

Mr. Banerjee’s eyes narrowed after a moment of expressionlessness. In the silence that followed, Mukundo cursed himself for letting that question slip out.

Mr. Banerjee broke the silence and spoke slowly, “Is that a hypothetical question, or a real one?”

Mukundo closed his eyes and replied as slowly, “If it offends you, it was hypothetical.” As he opened his eyes, he saw something flutter near the curtain separating the hall from dining room.  But Mr. Banerjee’s voice claimed his attention back.

“I am just surprised, Mukundo. Not offended. If that was a real question, she has to answer it. I do have a concern. But…”

“What is your concern?”

“Your father?”

“In the worst case, I’d have to make do with my salary.”

The old man chuckled, “Yes. Yes. But that is not my worry, Mukundo. She has not grown up with much money. My concern is… Family. To become a part of the family without father’s consent… It won’t be the most pleasant situation. But all that only if… Oh! Have you already spoken to her?”

“No! No! Upon my honor, no! I haven’t spoken a word to anyone, not her, not anyone else. I had to ask you, Banerjee Babu! The rest is up to you.”

“You are so old fashioned, son,” Mr. Banerjee smiled patronizingly at him, “That won’t do. It is not up to me. It is up to the two of you. Pihu–” he called his grand-daughter.

Even without as much as throwing a glance towards the curtains, he could imagine the feet slowly retreating from there, until they reached all the way back to kitchen, from where she replied in her best casual voice, “Yes Dadu?”

“Come here, Shona.”

She came, her footsteps a bit too deliberate, slow.

“Yes Dadu?” Did her voice quiver? Or was it a product of his imagination? Like that flutter, or the retreating feet… He wasn’t looking at her.

“Not me. Pihu. Mukundo here has something to say to you.” And without any glance of encouragement, without any glance at him at all, Mr. Banerjee stepped out. Mukundo turned towards Piyali only after the sound of her grand-father’s footsteps died out. One look at her, and he knew he hadn’t imagined anything.

“You heard.” He said abruptly. And he took in the sight she presented. Young, beautiful, intelligent, mischievous, lively. How could he ever hope? What would she do with him? “You heard, Piyali. Say no. Say no — and we’d all forget this ever happened.” He stopped as abruptly as he had started. She was staring at him wide-eyed.

“Say something,” he pleaded.

She gulped hard and had to clear her throat before speaking. But when she spoke, her voice did not shake, “You want me to answer the question you never asked? And you are telling me what I should answer too?”

It brought a smile to his face. His doubts vanished and he came closer to her. “I want you to say yes. But you should say what you want to.”

“I haven’t been asked.”

“You heard.”

“I haven’t been asked.”

“Marry me, Piyali. Will you?”

To his surprise, tears started flowing down her cheeks. She couldn’t speak at all and he had to contend himself with her nod.

—

Piyali turned yet again. It would anyway be difficult for her to sleep that night. Besides it was too early to sleep. But she had pretended to have finished dinner and had locked herself in her room. It was surreal. It was impossible to believe. As restless as his slightest attention made her, she hadn’t expected him to… God! Was it really possible? Was he in love with her? So much that he had literally blurted out his wish against his judgment?

She hadn’t waited even for her mother, who had been at the neighborhood temple in the evening. She just wasn’t in the mood for her prosaic enquiries after that poetic evening of his proposal. Besides there was a sore spot, which she didn’t want to talk over with anyone else.

On seeing her break down and nod helplessly his eyes had grown moist.

“Thank you,” he had said in a gruff, heavy voice, “I did not know I had it in me to be as happy as I am right now. If I can give you even half of this happiness, I’d be proud of myself.” He had held her hands as he had said this. But after that instead of kissing her senseless as she had been expecting, or even giving her a bone-crushing hug, he had let go of her hands.

“We… we need to tell… Banerjee Babu,” he had stuttered, completely unlike himself, “Would you call him, please?” Still formal!

She had sent her grand-father out and had stayed back. He hadn’t asked to see her before leaving.

She had expected more passion, more urgency from him. Why had he been so cold after her acceptance? ‘Okay’, she corrected herself, ‘Not so cold, but still not as mad in love as she had always dreamt her lover to be.”

—

To be continued

He extended his stay for three weeks. He would stay with his daughter and try to figure out what the best course of action would be. He had a lot of time in hand. He visited Banerjee Babu several times and also ended up meeting Piyali very often. Sometimes he ran into her outside the house and chatted with her for a while before going in. At other times, she sat with him and her grand-father and listened to their conversations. Once he found her alone on the verandah where his grand-father often sat.

“Dadu has gone to a friend’s place. He should be back any moment,” for unknown reasons she blushed, “Please do sit down, Mukundo Babu.”

“Yeah. How are you?”

“I am fine,” she replied. But Mukundo was not satisfied. He had also grown comfortable talking to her over time.

“You know it’s difficult to believe that you are fine, when you are not being mischievous. Got any chewing-gums around?”

“So, I am a constant mischief-maker, is it?” She only grew sadder, instead of laughing at his joke.

“Hey. Come on, now. What is it?”

“Sorry… It’s nothing, really. I am just missing my Baba. It’s his birthday.”

“Oh! I am sorry. You must have been really young, weren’t you?”

“Yes. But I remember him very well.”

“Of course. But hey! He wouldn’t like his mischief-maker to be sad, would he?” he leaned towards her and smiled encouragingly.

“Who knows what he would want? He is not around any longer.”

“I am a father too. I might know…”

“Yes. Pishima has told me a lot about your daughter. You won’t send her to boarding, would you?”

He straightened up and his face lost all its color.

“I’m sorry. I…”

“I think Banerjee Babu is going to be late. I should get going.”

Piyali sat transfixed to her chair as he strode out with a stiff gait.

—

“Mukundo Babu!” he was surprised to hear the voice as he made to leave the park after his morning jog.

“Piyali. What are you doing here?”

“Chunni. Come here…” she called a little girl to her side before answering him.

“Are you carrying your wallet?”

“Why?”

“Chunni wanted to eat jhal-mudhi. But I have spent all my pocket-money.”

“I might have some cash in my pocket, but jhal-mudhi? This early in the morning?”

“The vendor there has the best jhal-mudhi in the world. But he is in this area only in the mornings. Dada – aekhane aasho,” she called the vendor before waiting for Mukundo to confirm that he indeed had cash. “Three jhal-mudhis.”

“Without chilies,” the child demanded.

“Silly. What is jhal-mudhi without chilies. But okay. One without chilies, Dada.”

“I don’t want jhal-mudhi now,” Mukundo declared.

“But you can’t have it at any other time. You take it home and eat later. Here. Please pay him, Mukundo Babu. I will see you later.”

Mukundo managed to gather enough change from his pockets to pay the vendor. He looked at Piyali’s receding figure and could not help smiling. That was her way of making up?

—

“I brought your sister up. I can bring your daughter up, Mukundo. Until you gain your senses back…” his Maashima was against sending Sumedha to the boarding school.

“And you did a great job with Mrinmoyi, Maashima. But for how long will you keep taking responsibilities for us? It’s not your fault that this family is broken.”

He no longer got that queasy feeling around his daughter that he did when she was a baby. This child seemed to have no association with the sickly, pre-term baby he had held after his wife’s death. He had shirked his responsibilities in past, but that was no reason he should do a better job now. But he could not do it alone. He knew what he really, really needed to pull his family together. He needed a partner. By himself, he felt too lost. He was unable to pick up the thread after missing out on all these years. He needed to marry, marry someone who would give him love and support, which he could then pass on to his daughter. Nothing, as such, came in his way. Maashima had suggested it very often. “You are still young, and you have a long life ahead of you. You can live like a nomad,” she would say. Every well-wisher gave the same advice in almost the same words. But he was scared of doing it again.  After all he had never figured out what went wrong in his relationship with Aporna? How would he avoid it happening again? Boarding school, he was convinced, would be better for the child than a family plagued by cold-war.

—

Banerjee Babu was not in Kolkata. He had no alibi for visiting his home. But Maitrayee had just visited them. She told him that Piyali was unwell, down with fever. He was worried. For a while he distracted himself by playing with his daughter. But then her maid took her away to feed her and his restlessness returned.

—

Piyali was surprised to see him at her bedroom door. “Mukundo Babu! Dadu has gone to Haldia for some…”

“I know… I came to see you… I mean Boudi had come. She told me you were ill and might need help.” Maitrayee hadn’t said anything like that.

Piyali blushed. He noticed, but pretended not to.

“Please do sit down, Mukundo Babu… No. Not so close… You might also get infected.”

“I’d be fine. Do you need anything?”

“No. Thanks for asking. Did you not see Ma when you came? She might still be taking her afternoon nap. I would ask her to get tea for you…”

“Piyali! I haven’t come here for tea. I came for…”

A tense silence hung in the air for a few moments. Then Mukundo broke it. “Have you seen a doctor?”

“Yes. Our neighbor is a doctor. He had dropped down. Said there is nothing to worry. Just to take paracetamol if needed, and rest.”

“Good it is not serious. I should get going now. You call me, if you need anything at all.”

She nodded.

He hesitated for a moment, but finally felt her forehead for temperature before leaving.

—

To be continued

Piyali stopped at the door on hearing the voice which was familiar, but still new. He had been helping with a kids’ dance performance till then. So nobody had heard him sing. But on that morning, he must have gotten carried away. The girl whom he was trying to teach gaped at him open-mouthed. He wouldn’t stop to let her repeat after him. His eyes were closed and his fingers moved graciously on the harmonium. That deep, soulful voice! Piyali could feel his sadness creeping up on her. She hadn’t felt it quite as well when Maitrayee had answered her questions about him. She walked up to him noiselessly, standing right in front of him. When he opened his eyes, her large eyes were the first thing he noticed. She thought she saw him smile, but only for a split second. Then he abruptly stopped singing and turned hastily to his pupil. “I am sorry – you were not following, I think. Let’s start with the aaroha…”

Piyali turned on her heels and went to the other room to help others practice.

—

“Mukundo Babu!” she caught up with him as he was leaving.

“Piyali!” He tried to act normal, but he was clearly uncomfortable.

“The event is in three days…”

“Are you nervous?”

“Kind of… Charu Di has almost pulled out. So…”

“And you are doing a great job. There is no reason to be nervous.”

“You are just trying to make me feel good, but…”

“No! Piyali. I mean it.”

She looked up at him. He was sincere. She could see it in his eyes. Strangely, she felt her stomach churn, as if she were appearing for an exam.

“Won’t you perform?” she blurted.

“What? Me?”

“Please!”

“But Piyali.”

“I know. I know… I had asked Pishima not to pester you. But… Dadu also talked about your singing. And I heard you this morning. It’d be criminal for you not to perform… This event is for an orphanage, you know…” her voice drowned as she found him looking at her with a strange mixture of desolation and admiration.

“You really want me to perform?”

She nodded, unable to find her voice.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Fine. I will,” he said and turned away quickly.

Thankfully there was a tree nearby on which Piyali could lean. The warmth that had enveloped her threatened to melt her down. She couldn’t have articulated why exactly she was feeling this way. She had attracted attention of men for several years now. But she had been too childlike and mischievous to have fallen for anyone. Universally friendly, she hadn’t attached much importance to any attention she got.

But this was different. Mukundo Babu gave into her wishes! She had been hearing about him from her grand-father. And given the respect the old man showed for him, Piyali had already placed him on a pedestal. That such a man should care about what she wanted from him was enough to make a melting poodle out of her.

—

Old Mr. Thakur was a misogynist and didn’t seem to believe in the institution of marriage. Even when his wife had lived, they hardly ever spoke to each other and slept separately. Till some years ago, Mukundo had wondered how they ever managed to produce two children. That was explained to him by his maashima during a conversation in which she held the old man responsible for the Mukundo and his sister never having a real family of their own.

“She didn’t die of any disease or accident, Mukundo. It was the torment her husband inflicted on her that took away her life,” she rued.

“Torment?”

“Torment is not always physical, my son. Years of insult and neglect…”

“I am not even sure how we came into being then…” the question was bugging him, and even though it was awkward, he voiced it.

She smiled, “He was a misogynist all through. But he wasn’t always averse to enjoying the fruits of married life. Not until that cursed letter sprang out, anyway.”

His mother had, in all innocence and bravado of teenage years, had fallen in love with a neighbourhood boy. Those were the days of early marriages and crushed childhood romances. The inevitable happened to her too, and at the age of eighteen she was married to his father. But she carried out one act of defiance. She kept a letter from her lover with her and brought it to her marital home. Still, it didn’t take her long to forget all about that childish affair and immerse herself in the responsibilities of a new bride and soon a mother. Sometime after the birth of Mrinmoyi, however, his father discovered that letter by accident.

“She tried everything. She tried to explain, she tried to beg, she tried to laugh is off. But he wouldn’t listen. He was never an ideal husband. But after that… I am sorry, Mukundo. I know you respect your father. But he is what he is.”

He respected his father, all right. At least he didn’t talk back to him, nor did he argue with him ever. Because his mother had tirelessly taught him to be respectful to his father. Despite how he had treated her. Indian women!

After her death, Mukundo had been sent off to boarding, while Mrinmoyee was brought up by their childless maashima. Mukundo also spent most of his holidays with her. The siblings had come back to Kolkata to live with their father only when they started attending college.

His marriage, like his sister’s, had happened despite his father, thanks to the efforts of his maashima.  Aporna had come to the same house as a bride. Mukundo sometimes wondered if the house wasn’t cursed. Why would their relationship be so cold otherwise? He wasn’t misogynist like his father. He hadn’t found any letters with Aporna. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have held it against her all their lives. She didn’t seem to have any complaints against him either. Still they weren’t comfortable with each other. They could hardly hold even a short conversation. They irritated each other. The only saving grace was that they knew when they were reaching the breaking point. And instead of indulging in a fight or a shouting match, they removed themselves from the scene. What was wrong? Was it the destiny? That the house should not see a happy family?

In that backdrop it was even more dreadful that Aporna should have died during childbirth. The complications had developed unexpectedly in the last moment. “Mother or child?” was the dreaded question he had faced. He had taken the right decision. “Save Aporna,” he had said. But fate had something else in mind for him. On her deathbed, her eyes were full of accusation. As if he were responsible for condition. As if he had wished this for her. Had he? No! No! Lord, no!

After Aporna’s death, he had found his newborn daughter’s presence agonizing. He didn’t want to feel that way. But try as much as he could, he just couldn’t shake the feeling away. His sister took charge of the baby. He let it be that way. And even left the country before Sumedha had even turned one.

She was an orphan despite her father being alive. And Piyali! She was raising funds for an orphanage.

—

To be continued