Hijr: Letter Three

To the one, to whom my soul belongs,

You are missing from me, as is warmth from the sunset, palpability from the silence of the night and sleep from the eyes of a dreamer. It has been a long time since I last wrote to you; I do not know if you’re alive, if you’ve forgotten me or whether you’re travelling towards us. What I do believe is that these winds have probably accepted my request. At the behest of my anxiety, the clouds are carrying my words, and maybe you’ll read when it showers in complete majesty.

Such silence has another reason- my choiceless self deciding to fulfil the physical void. Nay, this heart, for all those years back, I left a part of it with you. As our city sprawled with wealth, so did our memories with freshness to life and desires to mingle. The constant cacophony of apparent nonchalance all around made me realise something. The elders look at me for extinction is a fear that has been committed with our settlement. On one such day, when all the futuristic rigmarole was eating my desire to speak to the wind, she came and sat by. Her voice welcomed sunlight into my heart, infested with maggots of our separation. And I said, to what agony did I conceive that a moment of gaze has been spared with these uncountable footsteps? Not an echo came by, and I sat in the ineffable arguments within me. I can sustain the poison in my veins, but as for the longing for touch, my desires consummated with the one my heart never sought.
Guilt happens to be the most powerful emotion felt by mankind, and I am a sufferer of it. One may love, and it may get tainted; one may be angry, and it may get settled; one may be happy, and it may be ruined, but guilt coils around your conscience like a serpent and with every passing sun, it’s choking the life out of my healthy self. So, as my penance, while our souls may meet one day, I want you to be angry and exasperated and vent it out on me. It was your sob that took my breath away, and it will be your anger that will breathe life into me again.

Before I reached the edge, I took a different stone, this time hoping you would read despite knowing that I have found myself in marital bonds. So has our settlement; as the air got much warmer and markets busier, our houses seem more plentiful, and Pashupatinath rides his bull in ecstasy on the perfect grids of the streets. Our bath isn’t humongous like the citadel, yet it is surprisingly aromatic. It happens to be when the chief priest performs a ritual to sanctify a merchant into the priesthood. I see lotuses being carried by my neighbour and women baking seals for Lord Pashupatinath. The evening will be momentous, but in my soul, there is a fracture amidst the perfect smile and vigour. I am tired.

My guilt restricts the scribble, and an incessant pain adorns my mind. I cannot ask for forgiveness from you, but acceptance is what I can ask for. I wish to sleep in your memories and at the edge of my age, when my hair turns grey with ease and confusion dwells in my sight, I wish to dissolve in the silhouette of your being. The night will come for me as it would come for you. A cymbal just disturbed the sleeping winds around me. I think I hear my child amidst the distant commotion. I must go with a heavy heart. The offerings to Pashupatinath are awaited, just as my offerings to the Goddess of my beloved realm.

A sincerely, inured sinner
𑀳𑀺𑀦𑁆𑀤𑀯𑀺

Rituals of weddings or vows of marriage, whether known or unknown before the Vedic age, are not known. However, observing the idea of cities, settlements and families, one may safely assume that the Indus people did have a concept of hierarchy, heredity and family.

Purnota: Chapter Thirty Two

Bondita got down from the local train with a duffle bag and her hoodie tied around the waist of her dark green Kurti, which she teamed with white leggings and a white dupatta. The weather at Canning seemed hotter and humid than Chandannagar, and at first glance, Bondita spotted the spring blooms of Krishnachura painting the tree at the station red. She picked up her bag and looked around the crowded station. Someone was supposed to come and get her. She dragged her bag through the crowd and finally reached the gates. The rickshaws, vans and small autos were shouting out names of different places, names that appeared like images in her memories. “Bondita Malkin?” She turned to see a woman in a checked printed saree worn above the ankle with a Ghomta over her head and the Anchol tied to her waist. Bondita nodded as the woman in her forties surprised her by touching her feet. Bondita jolted away in shock. “What are you doing?” She asked with raised brows as the woman took her duffel bag. ...

My Everything

Kunwar Pratap stormed into the Mahal at Gogunda amidst uncertainty and chaos. Happy faces of the chieftains and soldiers welcomed him as Rawat Chundawat, and some other chieftains stopped the ongoing Raj Tilak. A visibly scared Kunwar Jagmal looked clueless at a visibly angry Kunwar Pratap. Rani Dheerbai Bhatiyani hadn't expected Kunwar Pratap to show up, that too, despite her conveying to him his father's last wish of crowning Kunwar Jagmal. Twenty-one days after Udai Singh's death, she was finally close to a dream she had dared to dream since Jagmal was born. He was not informed about the Raj Tilak as per Dheerbai's instructions. She eyed Rawat Ji. He must have assembled the chiefs to this revolt against her son, against the dead king. No one except them knew where Kunwar Pratap was staying. It was for the safety of his family. " What are you doing, Chotima?" A disappointed voice was directed at her. She could stoop down so low? For the first time, an anger...

Purnota: Chapter Thirty Three

Aniruddha stepped out of his room, in a wrinkled Kurta, with a towel and toothbrush, to almost bump into Bondita, who was hurrying out of her room, trying to wear her watch on the go. He stopped before she barged into him and spotted her in one of Thamma’s Dhakai sarees. It was a white-on-white saree she had worn with a quarter-sleeved black blouse. Her hair was bunned with a claw clip, and she wore a small black Teep complementing her Kajol-drawn eyes. She looked slightly startled as she stopped at his dishevelled appearance and looked away at his stare. “Why are you…” He cleared his throat to do away with his morning groggy voice, “Dressed up?” Bondita shook her head at his words. “Because I have camp today, the NGO representative is waiting downstairs.” At her words, Aniruddha nodded and promptly held her wrist to check her watch. Bondita eyed his index finger and thumb, briefly brushing around her wrist as he suppressed a yawn. “But… It's 7 AM.” Bondita smiled, amused at his wo...

Purnota: Chapter Thirty Six

Bondita opened her door in the usual hours of the morning and found Thamma and Jyatha Moshai on the couch in their living room, sipping tea. She had half sat on her bed, leaning against the pillow all night, imagining her plight when she faced Aniruddha in the morning. What if he did not think of it as much as she thought of his actions? What if that was his uncomfortable way of comforting her because she was upset? But what about his eyes, his gestures? Had she misread all of it? Bondita blushed to herself the moment she remembered how his eyes followed her around for the past two days. Bondita was hurrying through her daily chores, eyeing the clock, for she would be late for work and overheard Trilochon lament about things not changing since Binoy left. He thought that things were getting better at home, but as soon as Aniruddha had left for Sunderban, Binoy informed him that he had changed the attorney in charge of his case. Bondita frowned slightly as her hand stopped at wearing th...

Purnota: Chapter Thirty Five

“The bride is older than the groom.” Aniruddha heard one of the older villagers speak in a judgmental tone. “No wonder the higher castes don’t attend such atrocities.” He eyed the younger man he was talking to, who smiled. Aniruddha was sitting beside them on a bench in the open courtyard of a house where the wedding rituals were taking place. Tirio and Tumdak were playing rhythmically in a corner as some women danced to the tunes surrounding the new bride and groom. The men sat on the other side of the courtyard. “Forget about the Brahmins, we don’t expect them to come.” The younger man shook his head. “As for traditions, what is wrong if the bride is older?” He smiled sheepishly at the older man. “What’s wrong? Everything. Master Moshai, you can be educated, but our ancient traditions have reasons. The groom must be older than the bride. It has some reason.” He shook his head. The teacher, in turn, educated the man that it was a perfectly normal Santhali ritual to marry older wo...

Purnota: Chapter Thirty Seven

“Why will Bondita not come for Holi?” Asha asked as she inspected the colours, Abir, Pichkiri and balloons Somnath had ordered from Baro Bazaar. He shrugged. “She is scared of colours, I think.” Asha smiled, a little amused at her clueless husband. “She is not ten anymore.” He looked up at her words with a sheepish smile, “Well, I never saw her play Holi, perhaps Dadabhai knows the reason.” Asha contemplated her husband’s words. She did not share a relationship with Aniruddha frank enough for him to share things about Bondita. It would be easier for her to ask Bondita instead. “If you wish for her to come,” Som said, like he could almost read her mind, “Perhaps you can invite her. She won’t say no to you.” Asha nodded. “It will be good to have the whole family together. It's not been so since the wedding.” She smiled. Som agreed as he matched the list with the things. “Yes, and Baba will be coming too, he told me not to tell Jethu, but I was surprised by that.” “Maybe because he an...

Purnota: Chapter Thirty One

“Please, Sir, we were going to show the evacuation notice to the lawyer.” The older man with a salt and pepper beard and a bald head pleaded with the Judiciary official, who handed him a paper of illegal occupancy. The NGO stood on the ground of the property that belonged to the Bhowmicks. Their lawyer, Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury, had sent a notice of warning and evacuation that the NGO did not pay heed to. The man in charge looked least concerned at the plea of the older man. His hands were folded, eyes teary, as the men who came with the Bull Dozer to knock down the one-storey house with thatched roof broke down the board of the NGO. “Why did you not show the notice then?” The man rebuked in a gruff voice. “Because we thought it was some mistake.” Another man, relatively younger and calmer, came forward from the crowd that stood there watching as he spoke. “We got the land as a gift from Mr. Bhowmick some eleven years back to make the school for the orphans.” “Then where is the dee...

Scheme of Things

The ousting of Shams Khan and his troops from Chittorgarh earned Kunwar Partap Singh overnight fame across the land as tales of his bravery made their way through the dunes and hills, across rivers and borders to lands far and beyond. At thirteen, he had commanded an army troop to take over the fort of Chittorgarh and restore Mewar’s borders to their former glory. People started comparing him to his forefathers, the great Rana Kumbha, who built forts across Mewar and his grandfather, Rana Sanga, who had united all Rajputs against external threats. As bards sang praises of the prince, gossip soon followed. Gossip was the most entertaining one could get in the mundane city lives and village gatherings, and it often travelled faster than the fastest Marwadi horse. So alongside the tales of his absolute bravery and how he hoisted the Mewari flag on the fort, were the stories of how his life was in danger, the king and queen did not quite get along and how he was made to live in poverty by ...

Purnota: Chapter Thirty Four

“You are cheating, he can’t play!” Bondita was attracted by the commotion downstairs as she opened the window of her room. She walked out to the balcony to inspect it. It was Sunday, and Padma had promised to make Chicken Curry, knowing Bondita had invited Tapur to join them for lunch. In the courtyard was a group of boys, probably Sidhu’s friends, with a broken pipe for a bat, a wooden plank for a wicket kept between two bricks and a rubber ball, arguing over a game of cricket. Bondita’s eyes stopped at Aniruddha, marking a line with chalk and then measuring feet using steps to mark the boundaries. Bondita looked amused at the sight. “Batuk. You went out fair and square; give me the bat.” Bondita put her hands on her waist as she commanded. Batuk refused to part with his new bat. Som frowned at his brother. “She is right; it was a clean bowl. Give her the bat!” Som commanded. “I was not ready.” Batuk shook his head. “She knew that.” “It's still out.” Bondita frowned. Aniruddha wal...

The Difficulties

“The best of our characters are often reflected in our children.” Kunwar Shakta had visited the court at Udaipur after a Turk marriage offer was turned down by Rana Udai Singh for the third time for one of his Princesses. The Ranimahal at Chittorgarh buzzed with rumours of him warning his father about the consequences of enemity with the Turks and also about the impending doom of Mewar. He had apparently irked Kunwar Partap by suggesting a peace alliance with the Timurids was beneficial to Mewar. Rana Udai Singh, in his anger, had banished him from his court. Kunwar Shakta had sworn not to be associated with the royal family any further and to join allies with the Turks. Rawat Chundawat was calm enough to pacify the angry prince and offer him to shift to Bassi and give his decision a second thought. However, Kunwar Partap had refused to abandon Chittor, defying his father’s orders for a shift to the newly founded capital with his Ranimahal. He wanted to stay at Chittorgarh, which...

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