Nightmares are of two types. Ones that happen in real life, and ones that happen in dreams. The latter, although responsible for many sleepless nights as a child, was far better. I remember most of the time, as electricity at Punnya was not as efficient as that in the cities, with only the new neighbourhood houses lit up by the overhead wires, evenings would see long power cuts. Ma would make us sit in a circle in the open courtyard and light a kerosene hurricane lamp in the middle. It was enough to make our faces visible in the flickering light and darkness that surrounded us. Lata would sit close by her, and Ananta on her lap, as Dada waved the hand fan over us, while we indulged in ghost stories. Sometimes Bibha would hold on to me as Ma kept Lata and Ananta close to her, and narrated tales from her native village, stories about Bhoot, Petni and Pishach. I remember that after those stories, if the lights didn’t come on past my bedtime, I was wide awake, scared that sleeping might give me nightmares. But those nightmares were nothing compared to the ones we had in broad daylight.
“Deb Da?” Lata’s scared voice made me look up from my work as she stood at the threshold of the Kajanchi Khana, unsure, with what looked like a letter in her hand. Her voice trembled as she managed to say “Didi.” I got up from my chair with a frown and walked up to her, almost snatching the letter from her hand. It was a letter, written by Bibha, addressed to Lata.
“Where is she?” I asked before even starting to read it. Lata shrugged cluelessly.
“Yesterday, she told me to come by in the morning to take some books. I walked into her room, and she wasn’t there. The books were on the table. I assumed she was somewhere busy, so I picked up the books, and this fell from them.” Lata was quick to explain. I read the letter. It said Bibha felt trapped in the house. Women were still prisoners of society. Her confinement in a free India was bothering her. So she left to be with the man she loved because nobody here understood what love truly meant. I crumbled the letter up in frustration.
“Stupid woman!” I said under my breath. I checked my watch.
“Stay here, not a word to anyone.” I was quick to hand the crumbled letter back to an almost teary-eyed Lata as I rushed out, without making my urgency known to Thamma and drove to the station. The station master knew us well, and he hadn’t seen Lata. Of course, she was smart enough not to board a train here if at all. I drove to the next station and the one after that.
One of the railway vendors recognised my description of her when I described that there was probably a man with her, with Kalikinkar’s description. They had boarded the train to Bardhaman. I drove back to the school. I needed this man’s address, but had to be discreet about it. So I made an excuse that he owed Thamma some money. The address was given by the headmaster. I returned home to find Lata waiting in the library.
“I told Thamma that Didi had gone to the temple with Kakima. She ate her lunch and went to sleep.” Lata sighed. I handed her the address in silence as I sank back into my chair.
“I swear I didn’t know. Trust me.” I looked up at her pale, teary-eyed face. I nodded. I reassured her that I knew. But what could we do now?
“Can’t you go and meet Didi?” Her suggestion was futile. By now, if I knew how stubborn Bibha was, she would have married the man. They were adults. What could we do?
“I have to inform Dada,” I said, picking up the receiver. “He left Bibha in my care. I let him down.”
“That’s not true.” Lata protested. “Didi was stubborn. You tried.” She shook her head. “This is all my fault. I believed whatever she told me about him and about them. I never questioned her. You kept repeating that I should…” I stopped her by putting my finger over her lip. She looked alarmed. Her guilty rant wasn’t helping me at all. “Lata, it is not your fault either. She is an adult. She chose this.” I started dialling the number.
“What if Borda hurts them?” Lata sounded scared. The receiver dropped from my hand. I knew what Dada was capable of when it came to family honour. I could hear Boudi’s voice on the other end shouting, “Hello. Hello.” Lata picked up the receiver and placed it back on the dialer.
“I should inform Thamma.” I managed as she nodded. Thamma gasped, then lamented that she had failed in parenting us properly, and my parents wouldn’t forgive her when they met in heaven. Then she told me to inform Dada. I had to. Kakima came in soon after, holding Thamma’s hand reassuringly and lamenting how children nowadays are beyond their control. She eyed Lata while saying this, and Thamma agreed.
Dada arrived by the next available train. Thamma didn’t get a wink of sleep, as Kakima sat beside her, holding her hand, as her cheeks were wet with tears. Lata stood behind her couch, eyeing me as I paced the room impatiently. Ananta sat on the single chair, a little restless. The car honked outside as Dada walked briskly, and Kanai brought in his luggage. He eyed Lata and then turned to me.
“Did you know about this?” His tone was accusing. I frowned. “Who was she going around with?” He turned from me to Lata and Ananta. “She must have told someone something.” I looked up at his words. Before I could speak, Lata spoke.
“I did.” Kakima gasped at her words. Thamma looked a little shocked, too. She looked up, first at Dada, then at me. “She told me.”
“And you never thought of ever letting us know?” Thamma rebuked, turning to her as Lata looked away.
“What will I do with this girl?” Kakima tapped her forehead with her palm, almost wailing. “Did you tell Bibha to do this?” She looked suspicious. “First the letters, now this!”
“What? Why will I tell Didi…” Lata protested.
“What letters?” Dada interrupted with a frown.
“What should I tell you about the shame she has caused us, Rudra Babu?” Kakima lamented. “I found letters in her notebook, of the shameless kind.” Lata looked up, first at Kakima, then at me. “I told her Kaku she should get married off.”
“Look what happens when you pity orphans and bring them into your home, Thamma.” Thamma looked a little shocked at Dada’s statement as Ananta stood up. Lata fell back a step as Kakima hung her head in shame. “Ma made a mistake, and Bibha is paying for it.”
“Dada, how can you say that about…”Ananta spoke as a slap resonated across his cheek.
“How dare you speak to me in that tone, lad?” Dada looked agitated.
Kakima took Lata’s hand and was about to leave, dragging the reluctant, crying girl behind her. She looked up at me as Kakima dragged her, and she walked across the hallway right in front of me. I had to speak up.
“Lata was trying to save our family’s honour.” All pairs of eyes were on me while Kakima stopped at the threshold. “The letter was Bibha’s. Not hers. She didn’t know.”
“And you knew it?” Dada approached me as I stood fixed in my spot.
“And what did you do to prevent this?” He asked, almost breathing on my face.
“I talked to her.” My jaws tightened.
Thamma shook her head and rebuked, “You should have told me.”
“You talked to her?” Dada looked disappointed “You talked to her, and you let it be?” He banged his fist on the marble side table. “Are you out of your mind, Debu?”
I kept quiet. Ananta looked up at me and back at Lata.
“Let’s go home,” Kakima said, pulling Lata’s ear. “You have done enough already.”
“Wait.” Thamma stood up as Dada stepped back. “Lata is not going anywhere.” She eyed Dada, who looked displeased. “She is family.” Thamma walked up to them at the threshold. “I am not losing one daughter over another.” Lata hugged Thamma and sobbed. In between, she murmured apologies. Thamma patted her hair as she cried. It wasn’t her fault. But then whose was it?
“I will get this girl married before she runs off.” Kakima snapped before walking away from the scene.
“I am going to Bardhaman, come with me,” Dada spoke as I nodded silently. He walked away to his room.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Ananta spoke in an accusing tone to his Didi. Lata looked up and sighed, wiping away her tears.
“You are too young.” She insisted. Ananta wasn’t convinced. He looked disappointed and walked away to his room. Thamma looked up at me hopefully.
“Go with him and see that he doesn’t do anything he will regret.” She ordered. I nodded silently.
