RAABTA

  Main hu iss mitti se hi Vilayati babu hai tu. Bondita sat, hands folded in front of the Durga idol at the Thakur dalan on the rear portion of the house, eyes closed. She had lit the evening lamps after the storm had passed and placed a letter she had written on the feet of the idol. Ever since Bondita wrote letters to her mother, she had also developed a habit of leaving letters on the feet of Maa Durga. Most of the wishes she wrote in them got fulfilled as she woke up the next morning to find the letter missing. It wasn't until she was thirteen that she caught Trilochan reading her letters. She made him swear on Maa Durga not to read her letters again. She had realised it was he who fulfilled her wishes. But now it had become a habit she couldn't let go of. Only the letter remained the next day, and she took it to the river to float it away in the morning hoping that it found its way to Maa Durga. The first thing Aniruddha noticed when he stepped into his room was its famili

  Aaje ke yeh desh hai tera, Isko gale se laga re. Yehi hai pyar tera jo Yehi hai rishte saare. "Bondita, we have decided. The boys will do all the preparations." Batuk nodded intelligently. "The girls can come for the evening performance." "But what if I say, the girls can help decorate better, and even cook the Bhog?" Bondita smiled. "But only people who study can participate in the puja. Understand?" Batuk shrugged. Bondita fell silent. But her eyes were wandering. She was looking for a perfect comeback. "So what? The girls can ask for her blessings too." Both of them turned at the voice behind them. "She blesses everyone eager to learn." "Dev Da, I am sure they can. But what will they do with knowledge? Run a house?" Batuk gave out a taunting laugh. Bondita narrowed her eyes at him. "What's wrong with that?" Debaditya placed his stack of books down on the table. "Do you know how much calculatio

  Todhe andhere banaye naya saveera. "So you see. Plants are also living things like us. Any questions?" Bondita Das sat on a rock in the middle of the ground as the children of her age and younger gathered around her. She looked elegant, wearing a smile on her lips and eager eyes, clad in a simple blue cotton saree, matching glass bangles, a pair of golden earrings, and a gold chain around her neck. Her hair was parted into two and tied into braids with a pair of blue ribbons. She was fifteen or sixteen this year, based on what her mother said in her letters.  She didn't remember much of her life before she came to Tulsipur. Only when her father passed away, her widowed mother was burdened with her, and the relatives at Krishna Nagar refused to help them. She remembered a large family. And lots of rules. And she remembered her mother hugging her. All these years she had exchanged letters with her mother but never saw her. Perhaps she was seven or eight when she was broug

  Aaja Tujhko Mitti Pukare, Pukaare chand sitaare. 1937, Tulsipur, Bengal Province. " Chithi. Chithi ." The ring of the cycle bell on the relatively quiet afternoon alerted the gardener busy tending to the bushes with his clippers. He looked up, adjusting his now-soiled white dhoti and removed the Gamcha from over his head while walking down the garden path towards the gate.  "Whose is it Dada?" He asked the postman who waved at him.  "Trilochan Roy Chowdhury." The man read. The gardener let out a gasp. "Are you new in Tulsipur?" He almost snapped. "Nobody calls him by his name, he is our Jomidar Babu."  "I apologize." The postman bit his tongue "I assumed this was the Jomidar Bari but I didn't know…" "The Roy Chowdhurys have been our lord since my great grandfather's time." The gardener said with a hint of pride. "My father used to work here. I work here after him." He offered the pos