Tu ne raksha ki hamesha
Ab akeli hui main
Jag andhera tu sitara mera.
"I heard it myself. They told Dada to go to Jetha Moshai's room." Batuk sat on the jute mat on the western balcony of the house as Bondita sat slicing betel nuts with a cutter for Trilochan's Paan in the afternoon. "Why?" She asked. Batuk shrugged. "Maybe they want Sampoorna Boudi to leave soon." Bondita's hands stopped at the nuts as she looked worried.
"Don't tell anyone I told you," Batuk warned. She nodded.
"Give me some of that." He insisted as Bondita handed him some finely chopped nuts. She then picked up the paan box and walked away as Batuk laid down on the mat leisurely.
It was late at night when Aniruddha stood on the roof of the mansion. The darkness of the night was hauntingly silent. He heard the sound of anklets behind him as he realised Bondita was approaching the stairs. He didn't look back. Instead, he looked up at the sky. It looked like it was going to rain. The dark clouds were forming overhead. Bondita stopped at the threshold, seeing him in the white Panjabi pyjamas. She then went over to the other side of the roof, put her wet hair aside, and started putting her washed clothes up to dry.
"It's going to rain." He said in a matter-of-fact tone. The lack of response made him turn.
"Bondita?" He made her look up at his face "Are you alright?" She nodded, forcing a faint smile.
"Thank you for being there. I couldn't have done it alone." Her voice choked. Aniruddha walked across the roof to where she stood. The wind had started to pick up speed. He stood in front of her as she looked away, trying to control her tears, with a faint, reassuring smile and shook his head.
"You would have. I know that. And I am here. You don't have to fight anything alone. Ever. As long as I am here." He reassured her. She stared into his eyes briefly. "And I know you lost a mentor. I can't replace him. But I will try to be a good teacher."
"Then I will try to be a good friend to you, too." Bondita smiled back in melancholy "You lost a friend too."
The wind picked up speed, prompting them to look up at the sky. The droplets fell on Bondita's cheek.
"Come, let's go inside, it will rain." Aniruddha turned to leave to find Bondita fixed to her spot. He stared back at her face as she looked up at the sky, and the rain increased. It prompted Aniruddha to run under the shed of the swing, as Bondita stood fixed to her spot.
"Bondita." He called out in vain. "You will fall sick."
"Can I share something?" She asked, getting soaked in the rain.
The brown saree was soaking wet by now, and it clung to the shape of her body, revealing the outlines of her red blouse and hips. Aniruddha watched her trying to manage her wet hair as it swayed in the wind, the kajal bindi on her forehead appeared smudged. She looked back at him due to a lack of response. Eyes met, and he could see her kajal under the eyes was smudged in the rain too.
"I said, can I share something?" She spoke again. Aniruddha nodded. He looked away at the falling drops instead of her as she moved a bit nearer to the swing.
"Every time I lose someone dear to me, it rains." He looked up at her words. She smiled faintly. The raindrops trickled down her cheeks and mixed with her tears to reach her jawlines. Aniruddha's eyes travelled with the droplets and stopped at her neckline. He looked away.
"I know it's silly. But I remember the day my Baba died. It poured." She looked up at the sky. "And the day after, Ma left me here." She made him stare at her face again. "I had never stayed away from her before that. And one fine day she decided to…" She stopped.
Aniruddha's brows narrowed as worry swept across his face.
"Do you… Remember why?" He asked, his heart thumping in his chest.
"What?" She frowned.
"Why did she leave you here?" He asked again. Bondita shrugged.
"I don't know." She tried to think. "All I know is that she kept saying life at Brindabon will be too harsh for me. I guess that's why " She looked up at him. Aniruddha wet his suddenly dried lips with his tongue and looked away.
"The sky seems to cry with me." She smiled. "It's silly."
"No. It's not." He shook his head. "It rained the day my mother passed away too." He spoke. "I remember her every single time it rains." He stepped out in the rain nearer to Bondita as she looked up at him. Eyes met as he spoke.
"All I can remember is her last conversation with me. Always listen to the heart. It's never wrong. She used to say." Bondita nodded at him.
"We will fall sick. Let's go inside." He spoke.
"Yes, I will go prepare dinner as well." She nodded. "It's getting late."
"Someone left the rooftop door open," Trilochan spoke as Bondita's hand stopped serving Aniruddha the Echorer kofta and he looked up at her and eyes met. "The entire staircase is flooded. A house full of house helpers and people are so careless." Trilochan spoke, taking a morsel in his hand. Bondita served Aniruddha and went ahead to serve Batuk. "There is no system in this house anymore. Everyone practices their own free will." Trilochan's words were met with silence. Binoy looked up at his children and Bondita. It was unusually quiet in the house. Binoy suddenly realised how used he was to Bondita's chattering and questions. He concentrated back on his plate.
"Did you want to speak to me?" Aniruddha walked into Trilochan's bedroom and shut the door behind him. Trilochan sat in his rocking chair with a cane in his hand, while Binoy stood near the four-poster bed. He nodded. Aniruddha took a seat on the couch.
"If this is about Sampoorna…" he started as Trilochan stopped him with a hand gesture. "This is about you." He frowned at the words.
Bondita had tiptoed out of her room through the corridor and was now outside Trilochan's room. If they wanted Sampoorna out, she needed to know. She needed to think of the future. She placed her ears carefully over the closed wooden door, concentrating.
"What about me?" Aniruddha frowned.
"I told you I gave my word to Bhowmik Babu," Binoy spoke, taking his pipe up.
"And I told him you can't marry Saudamini," Trilochan spoke.
"Let him say that, Dada." Binoy shrugged. "Why can't he?"
"I told you why." Aniruddha looked up at Trilochan and at his father. Colour flushed from his face.
"Because he is already married."
"Aniruddha." Binoy shook his head. "Tell him you don't believe this. Tell him you don't even remember…"
"I gave my word to Bondita's mother, Binoy." Trilochan fumed. "Why do you think she left her here?"
"Enough." Aniruddha stood up. "Both of you." He looked at the elders.
"Baba, my life is not your business deal. Jetha Moshai, it was an accident. She was a child. Okay?" Binoy smiled at his words as Trilochan stood up.
"It was no accident. The vermilion dropped from your hands to her hairline in the most auspicious…" Trilochan sounded agitated. "I groomed her and raised her to be fit for you. And fit to be a Roy Chowdhury daughter-in-law."
"Do you hear yourself?" Aniruddha shook his head. "She was barely eight. She bumped into me. I raised my hand to protect my eyes. I can't believe you brought her here and gave her mother your word. It was an accident. She was a child. She is…" Aniruddha shook his head.
Bondita moved back two steps from the door and stared at it with a pale face. Then she turned and ran to her room and shut the door behind her. She sat down on the floor, numb. All the time Bondita had spent at the Roy Chowdhury mansion, with a right over every family member, seemed like a huge lie to her. Memories came floating to her mind and shrouded her with self-doubt. She assumed Kakababu took a liking to her. Taught her everything he did out of love. Let her study out of fondness. But no, all of it, she gathered now, was to make her fit enough. He wanted to mould her the way he wanted. Did he succeed? Bondita couldn't tell. All she felt was rejection and hurt. All she felt was betrayal by someone she called her own and loved like a parent. Who was she? Her entire existence was at stake now. It was in the hands of these men. Bondita's jaws tightened as tears rolled down her cheeks. At the end of the day, she was indeed at the mercy of these men. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Aniruddha knew. Did he support her out of guilt? Or sympathy? Bondita stood up and walked to the window. The rain was still pouring. She looked up at the sky, teary-eyed. All this while, fighting for the self-respect and independence of her tribe, Bondita was unaware of the chain of patriarchy that bound her. She was at the mercy of men. She was the victim of a tradition she looked down upon. She closed her eyes, trying hard to remember what happened. She did remember glimpses of Sampoorna's wedding day. She looked mesmerised at the bride. She peeped through the crowd to catch a glimpse of Jamai Babu. He had smiled at her. Bondita opened her eyes.
She remembered the vermilion. She remembered the scolding that followed. Mami had tied her to a tree the next day. She remembered her mother apologising. She closed her eyes again. No. She didn't remember his face at all. She sighed. Aniruddha's words came back to haunt her. It was an accident. She was a child. She is.
He had made his choices. But where did it leave Bondita? She walked up to the table and picked up her filled-out matriculation form. She sighed. She had no place called home. Nobody she knew to go to. This was the only way. The villagers were right. She was a nobody who got her voice because the Roy Chowdhury house showed mercy on her. She was insignificant.
"That's what I was telling Dada." Binoy agreed. "That's not a marriage." He added, "Hence, I want to invite Saudamini over, and you can have a conversation."
"Baba. I never said anything like that." Aniruddha shook his head.
"But you have to choose someone so that we can go ahead with Som's wedding too." Binoy shook his head. "And you said Bondita is …" he stopped as Trilochan sank back in his chair. Aniruddha didn't wait anymore. He turned and opened the door. "I am not in a position to talk of marriage now. Please leave me alone. Both of you." He walked away as Trilochan looked up at Binoy, a bit unsure. "What will happen to Bondita?" He asked.
"I suggest you write to her family. They can take her away for a few days. She is a bright child. We can pay for her education. But she shouldn't be here when Saudamini and Aniruddha…" Binoy stopped at Trilochan's cold stare and walked away.
Aniruddha sat down on the couch in the living room, his hand on his head. He breathed in. His eyes fell on the notebooks on the table. Bondita's notebooks. She had dreams. Dreams that he wanted to give wings to. She was not like others her age. Men or women. He liked that. He liked her. He closed his eyes again. The innocent face smeared with vermilion flashed in his mind's eye. He opened his eyes. He could visualise her in the room. Talking on her coconut phone. Sitting under the table. Asking questions. Smiling. Giggling. Chasing after Batuk. And the vision of her soaking wet on the rooftop became vivid in his mind. He tried to brush it away. Her eyes were haunting him. As though he wanted to look away but couldn't. The sound of footsteps jolted Aniruddha. They came from the spiral staircase. He looked up and saw Bondita approaching. He took the first copy he found on the table and appeared busy. Bondita caught a glimpse of him concentrating on the copy. His face looked grim and flushed. He doesn't even want to look up at me.
Bondita placed the filled-out form in front of him. Aniruddha looked at it, picked up the form to see the boxes filled up and looked up at her. Their eyes met briefly as she looked away. Aniruddha could sense she had cried. He gathered that losing Debaditya was too much pain for her. He sighed.
"I filled out the form." She spoke. "Where do I submit it?"
"I will submit it." He reassured her. "You just concentrate on your studies. I want you to get good marks so that you can enrol in a good college in Calcutta." She looked up at him.
"I want that too, but… it costs a fortune. Kakababu has done a lot for me already." She looked away as he frowned.
"I will pay for it with my barrister's fees. You don't need to worry about that. Just study hard." She stared at him as he spoke. "I want you to be independent." Of course, he did.
Bondita nodded. "I will go to college. I will get a job. And I will repay your debts." She spoke as he frowned.
"You don't need to repay me anything."
"I must. Otherwise, how can I truly be independent?" She asked.
He sighed with a faint smile. When could he argue with her?
"Do you think everything can be repaid with money?" She looked at him as he stood up across the table. "Then how do I repay you? You gave me the vision to work towards my dreams. You gave my purpose a sense of direction, Bondita. It may not mean anything to you, but it means a lot to me." He walked away, with the form in his hand, as Bondita watched him leave. She wiped away the fresh tears with her saree.
"No, Bondita. You will study. You will earn. And you will not live in mercy." She reminded herself. "He wants that. You want that. And you will do it. Even if it means taking the difficult road alone, without him." She stared back at the threshold.
