RAABTA

It was Bibha I would be forever grateful to for walking into my room in the morning. She looked stressed and sleepless and wanted to have a word with me. I shook my head murmuring “Not now” as I hid my head in some papers, trying to appear busy. Bibha refused to leave. “It is about Lata.” She finally said. I looked up at her quite irked. “Oh, did she send you here to advocate for her?” I taunted Bibha. She shook her head.  “I don’t want people to misunderstand her because of me.” Her words made me frown. “Because of you?” I asked. “What do you mean?” “I can’t tell you. Lata will. Hear her out.” Her eyes travelled to the door where she stood, behind the curtain. I inhaled. “Bibha if this is one of your tricks to…” “It is not, shotti bolchi Dada. Hear it from her. It is not what you think.” She didn’t wait for me to protest as she ran away and Lata stood at the threshold. I looked away back into my papers. She was still at the threshold, as I eyed her. “Will you need a mic to explain thi

The first time I ever closed the door on Lata’s face was the day the letter was found. And that was also probably the last time. She had walked to my threshold trying to make excuses for whatever had happened. My disapproving glances made her stop. She looked hurt, teary and restless. I was too angry and disappointed to care. I walked up to the door and shut it right to her face before she could walk in. “Deb Da.” She knocked at the door as I sat down on the edge of my bed, my back to the door as she kept pushing and knocking. “Please, Hear me out once.” It went from begging to accusations really quick.  “Don’t you trust me? Don’t you know me?” I closed my eyes trying to control my anger. She dared to accuse after what she did. I didn’t want to lash out at her. It was her choice if she wanted to do what she did. Who was I to… Thamma was very particular about her room. She didn’t let the maids clean her things. It was either Lata or Bibha who did that. With Bibha having her  10th examin

“Janen ki kando!” Lata’s Kakima, Lolita Debi, would often stroll into our living area saying this one line she kept repeating, where Thamma sat on the couch, her feet up, holding her Silver Paan Box close to her, almost like a prized possession. She would proceed to either sit at Thamma’s feet, massaging them while she gossiped about neighbours or had tea sitting on the opposite couch, her topic of discussion being the same. She would often talk of the spoiled children of the neighbours praising Thamma and indirectly herself at how every one of us turned out fine. Especially Lata. She would stay for an hour or two before suddenly remembering her children would be back from school and rush home. Thamma liked her company for some odd reason. She gave her home remedies and often sent something special she cooked herself, to their place. In return Kakima would do the same, feeding us Bangal delicacies which were spicier than ours. The first thing I remember was that I was intrigued at how

Dawn was my favourite time of the day back in the village. The cuckoo or magpie would often chirp as the first light of the sun hit the dew-wet grass and often shone like diamonds. I remember Ma used to get up before everyone else and often after a bath, with her wet hair hanging from her shoulder, she would take a walk on the dew-wet grass, urging me and Dada to do the same.  She was the first face I saw every morning, as she either walked into my room to open the windows or stop the alarm urging me to wake up and study. Her ever-smiling face made my mornings. "It keeps you healthy." She said once, making Dada laugh. Her words had no scientific logic. If anything it gives you a bad cold, Dada would reply before he walked away. Ma wasn't pleased with him being an exact replica of our father. Whether it was because my mother's idea of the world was different or she had wished her children wouldn't grow up to be like the husband she only knew from a distance, I can&

I wasn’t as close to Baba as I was to Ma, and I can say the same for Ananta as well. Baba was a figure to be feared, his booming voice rang through the corridors and kept the house in a very disciplined order; the moment he stepped into the house was a very strict rule and people rushed about their work and nobody chattered, or ran across the corridors. Even the servants knew how to tiptoe around him and often in the Kajanchi Khana, he would argue with farmers, workers and tenants, while we stayed alarmed in our rooms upstairs. The only time we ever needed to interact with Baba and not keep out of his way was when our results came and he would put on his reading glasses, stare at the paper and back at us, so coldly that a shiver ran down our spines. Ma would often advocate for us, and he would rebuke her for spoiling the children. He was however not so intimidating towards Bibha or Lata. He agreed to keep Lata at home the moment Ma sobbed about the fever that had caught Prabhas, withou

The Naxalite movement had diverted from its initial phase into utter chaos in a matter of two years. Initially, the demands and ideologies of the youth in the movement weren’t entirely wrong. Although I hail from the very class of people they hated, I quite understood their complaints. I wasn’t like Dada who blindly hated them back. But then when the movement turned to agitations on the streets of Calcutta and bloodshed in the plateaus of Chotanagpur, I couldn’t help but be intimidated by such unnecessary violence. The government deployed an army in and around the affected areas and once or twice the people of Punya had witnessed from their courtyards and houses, peeping eagerly as the army trucks ran through the village using it as a shortcut to some areas.  I had instructed everyone to be home by dusk and avoid venturing out alone. Avoiding the secluded areas around the forestland was comparatively easier, though the maids and servants often took that shortcut to the house from the v

Shobha had borrowed some books which she came to return to Lata’s house and found her tending to some flowers she had planted on tiny pots outside. Lata looked up at her and smiled, offering her some refreshments which she refused as she handed the books back to Lata. Her hands were dirty, so she called on her cousin who came running to take the books from Shobha and went inside. Shobha sat down beside her on the ground. “Since when did you take up gardening?” She asked. “Jethima taught me a long time back, but I didn’t find the time. Now the exams are over and…” Shobha shook her head. “How do you like everything she taught you? How is it even possible?” She asked with a slight hint of doubt in her voice. Lata’s hand stopped at the pot as she smiled faintly. “It is not about liking Shobha, I … can’t explain to you… doing these makes me feel closer to…” She stopped at Shobha’s worried face.  “I sometimes wish you would live for yourself. And not dwell on the past, Lata.” “I do…” Lata’s