Her Strength

 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 at 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 would find its way to Maa Durga.

The first thing Aniruddha noticed when he stepped into his room was its familiar look. His room was kept intact just the way he had left it when he went abroad... The only addition was the picture he had sent home, which now hung above the door. He sat down on the bed as Bihari came in with a jug of water. He started unpacking as a much excited Batuk was waiting patiently to see what Dada got him from abroad. Aniruddha smiled at his stories once in a while, before handing him the bowtie he got for his little brother from London. As Batuk left, Aniruddha was called downstairs for dinner, and he had to change into the first clean shirt he found in his belongings.

Aniruddha stopped following Bihari down the stairs at the sight of the chandelier in the courtyard. He gestured at Bihari to go on and removed his slippers to step across the threshold into the Thakur dalan. The first thing he spotted was the illuminated lamps. The darkness around the courtyard danced as shadows from the light of the chandelier and the lamps lit at the feet of the idol. He walked towards it, went up the steps and folded his hands to the goddess. Something stirred in the wind at the feet of the idol. He was scared it could be a rat or mole. Then he noticed a piece of paper about to blow away in the wind as he picked it up and looked around. There was nobody there. He opened the paper. His brows shot up. The handwriting. He recognised it from the innumerable letters Jetha Moshai sent him. Whose was it? He knelt down before the goddess to read the letter in the light.

" Beloved Mother,

You know how they always say I see the world differently. But never was I taught that being different is wrong. All I wish for is that my tribe gets the opportunity they have been denied for decades, and help them achieve this dream. I know what I am about to do tomorrow is very tough. And I know it's the beginning of a long battle ahead. But Dugga Ma, I chose this battle. So give me the strength to fight it. I feel like I am alone against the world here. Does anyone else think the way I do? Can anyone give me answers? Give me strength, Maa. I need it.

Your faithful daughter." 

Aniruddha's brows raised as he brushed his fingers over the word daughter. Who was this?

Bondita had retired to her room much before dinner time because of the festivities the next day. Although Trilochan was disappointed, he didn't show it. Neither did he push for Bondita to stay for dinner. In fact, he was relieved. He knew his nephew. He would ask a thousand questions about the girl he apparently never saw. Trilochan had not once but thrice observed him lost in thoughts at the dining table as Somnath and Batuk spoke of their school and friends, excited to have him back. He spoke too little. But Trilochan gathered that is how he must have been these few years. He had grown into a man.

Aniruddha was in his room, but he couldn't sleep. He took a book from the shelf and smiled nostalgically at the pages. He then remembered the letter in his pocket, read it again, and bookmarked the page of the book with it. He decided to take a stroll around the house and to the open balconies to help with his sleeplessness. He stopped at one of the balconies, a little alarmed to see a figure in the dark. Her hair was unmanageable and swaying in the wind as she held the railings and stood with her back to him. Her silhouette appeared to be in a saree. Aniruddha looked around. Who was this? No woman lived in his house. Nobody from the servant quarters roamed about at night. He tiptoed across the threshold, curious.

Bondita felt someone behind her. Someone whose footsteps were unfamiliar to her. A sudden fear gripped her. The dacoits were at large so were the revolutionaries. She had nothing around her for self-defence. Her throat dried up. Aniruddha glanced at the girl standing a few feet away from him and extended his arm unsure, of what to call her.

She turned before he could. Her face was barely visible in the darkness. She looked like a teenager, her face innocent, eyes sparkling. Her hair fell to her waist. Aniruddha approached the figure, a little unsure, withdrawing his extended hand. To his utter surprise, the figure sprang away, alarmed as if he was about to attack her. In a reflex, Aniruddha took a step away. 

"Who are you?" She asked, alarmed. "What are you doing here?" Aniruddha frowned. Not only was she in his house, but she also didn't know him.

"Answer me, or are you dumb? Can't you speak?" She frowned. "Can't you hear?" She gestured to her own ears.

"Of course, I can speak. What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" He frowned. "At my home?"

"You must be Barrister Babu!" Bondita jumped a little and looked a bit wide-eyed as he watched her put her hands on her mouth. "I apologise. I thought the dacoits attacked." She looked embarrassed as she smiled sheepishly. "I am so sorry."

"Dacoit?" Aniruddha raised his eyebrows. "Are there many around?" He asked, concerned. 

"So I have heard." She nodded. "But you really are Barrister Babu?" She stared at him. "They talk of you all the time."

"Yes, I am Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury." He frowned. "I don't know what you heard about me, though."

"So you are for real!" Bondita had a curious smile on her face.

"What do you mean?" Aniruddha frowned. "Of course I am real."

"Seeing is believing, Barrister Babu. And I never saw you before." Aniruddha suddenly felt her tone was familiar. He just couldn't place it.

"Do I know you?" He asked unsurely. "I felt like I knew you." She shook her head. 

"That's not possible. I came here after you left. I just knew your room was locked all the time, and I was curious about what was inside." 

By now, Aniruddha assumed this girl was from the servants' quarters and smiled at her innocent rant.

"And I corresponded with your letters. Read them aloud to Zamindar Babu and write what he told me to."

"That was you?" He asked, surprised. "I assumed with pride that my younger brother had such nice and clear handwriting." 

"I take that as a compliment. Thank you." Bondita smiled.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, looking around. "At this hour?"

"I am praying." She looked up at the sky and back at him. "Tomorrow is a big day for me." She rubbed her hands pensively...

Aniruddha put his hands back in his pocket and thought. He suddenly remembered the letter he had found at the feet of the idol.

"Whatever it is you are praying for, I hope you find it, or it finds you." He smiled politely. "I should get going. Don't wander around like that. You can scare people." She nodded with a smile. "Shubh Ratri."

"My bad, I didn't ask you, what is your name?" Aniruddha stopped to turn at the threshold. He didn't know why he didn't feel comfortable enough to tell her that he had found her letter and read it.

"I am Bondita." Her words made his face turn pale, and his throat felt dry.

"They are saying you married her." One of his friends had said. He laughed. "Just because we collided in some accidental way, and the plate fell on her? Are you serious? She is a child."

"Children her age get married all the time." Another friend shrugged. "the priests said it's a…"

"The priests feed you with what you want to hear." Aniruddha dismissed them. "It was a mere accident. Don't make it destiny."

"Society believes…"

"Doesn't matter what they believe. They also believe killing women in their husband's pyre gives them a ticket to heaven." He retorted.

"Well, in case you are interested..."

"I am not." He shrugged.

"Her name is Bondita Das."

"And I am leaving for Kingston. I will never see her again."

"Do you work here?" He asked as she shook her head. 

"Why are you here, then?" He managed.

"I stay here because my mother is too poor to look after me. And Kakababu took me in." 

"Kakababu?" He asked with his brows raised.

"Your Jetha Moshai." She said,

Trilochan did have a habit of helping people. This could just be that. Couldn't it? Or it could be a mere incident of similar names. 

He looked at her eyes again. No, he thought he had forgotten those eyes. He clearly hadn't. The memories became more vivid. Bondita stared back cluelessly.

"Where are you from?" He asked as his heart thumped in his chest.

"Krishna Nagar. My father passed away, and… " She stopped noticing his pale face. 

"Is everything alright?" He nodded. "I am tired. I need to…"

She smiled. "Welcome home, Barrister Babu. I'd better get going, too." She ran across the corridor, her nupur making music, and disappeared into the darkness on the other side. 

"What is she doing here?" He asked almost to himself.

Aniruddha reached his room in a haze. Thoughts ran through his mind. What if she were here because of him? What if Trilochan Roy Chowdhury was forced by her family, and the poor girl was clueless? What if he was the root cause of all the trouble?

As soon as Aniruddha shut the door behind him, he lay down on the bed. His mind raced. The image of the girl he had assumed to have forgotten haunted him. Those eyes, that vermilion-smeared face. The words of the people around him. Destiny. Fate. Suddenly, the vermilion-smeared child turned into a teenager. 

Barrister Babu. Barrister Babu. A voice echoed in his mind. Aniruddha jolted awake to find himself half lying on his bed, his clothes unchanged.