There is a very widely used Bengali phrase, “Nijer pae kurul mara.” It means using the axe to hurt one’s own foot instead of the log. I had used the term more times than I could remember. But the time I actually felt it was in my twenty-sixth year. Never before had a year been so emotionally turbulent as that one, except when we lost both parents.
Narayan Deb was my friend since my very initial days in Kharagpur. First, he seemed like a rowdy kind of man, always befriending the seniors to keep us out of trouble, then he became a brother in arms. My life through the weeks there, away from home, wouldn’t have been the same without him. I actually saw him change into a very responsible youth from the careless lad who came to IIT. He was well educated, hailed from a reputed family in Calcutta and was the youngest among his five siblings. He had recently joined the Government Railway Services and was posted at Asansol. He had telephoned to inform me that his parents were looking for a suitable bride, preferably from a small town or village, for him. Someone who could live with him at his job site. I was eager to call him home, with the hope that his eyes fell on Bibha and he would pop the question without me making much of an effort. Perhaps meeting determined, successful men like him would stop Bibha from having wrong ideas about love. But I had to do this very discreetly without letting anyone, not even Thamma, know of my plans. Calling him home alone would raise suspicions on his part. So I decided to ring up some of my already-married friends as well.
Thamma was at first surprised and then happy about the idea that I had finally decided to call my friends home, and she would meet them. She kept pestering me to invite them to Punnya all through my college days, and I avoided it. Now, hearing the same idea from me, she was more than happy to play host to my college friends. She made sure the lunch menu was a sumptuous spread of delicacies, prompting Lata to help her out, instructing the cooks and tasting the dishes while she made the sweets. I felt a bit guilty as my ulterior motives were quite unknown to the hosts. I saw to it that the living room had enough space to sit and talk in and that Bibha was around to help Lata. She hadn’t talked to me since the day I slapped her, so I had to convey the message to Lata instead.
“You can’t possibly take care of the guests alone.” I cleared my throat as she placed her notebooks down for me to check. She eyed me in silence as I added, “Tell Bibha to help you with the servings, especially.”
“Didi?” Lata’s brows raised, maybe in suspicion, as I quickly looked away. Lata wasn’t wrong. Even while Thamma often told Lata to help out in the kitchen or with guests or celebrations, Bibha enjoyed much pampering from her.
“But she never…”
“Just do as I say, Lata. Why do you always have to …” I perhaps sounded agitated, so she nodded a quick agreement. “Thik ache.” and left.
My friends arrived the next Sunday, and Thamma was the first to ask them where they worked and who was in their families. Narayan was a charmer, as Thamma particularly liked his chatty yet polite nature, and rather quickly became much to my relief.
“All of you are married?” Thamma asked, chewing on the paan in her mouth, sounding a bit alarmed.
“Not me, yet.” Narayana shrugged. “My mother is looking for a homely girl.” I smiled with a nod, making it evident that I knew. Thamma nodded.
“You should get Debojyoti married now.” Much to my shock, out of the blue, the words came from the mouth of Gagan.
“I actually told Rudra Da that.” Dinesh caught me off guard.
“How do you know Rudra?” Thamma asked, a little surprised.
“Well, I got the job Debu left there.” He smiled, eyeing me. “He recommended me.”
And you pay me back by telling Dada that I should be married.
“Oh.” Thamma leaned forward eagerly at that. “Tell me, does his company do well?”
“Thamma…” I tried to stop her as she glared at me.
“Of course.” Dinesh smiled. “As an employee, I have only good things to tell you about Rudra Da as a boss.”
“That’s a first.” Thamma murmured under her breath, “Good for him.”
The lunch went quite well, as planned, and everyone praised Lata’s cooking. She smiled, shyly accepting the credit for her hard work as one of my friends lamented how his new bride couldn’t even boil rice at first. “At least she earns well.” Jatin joked about it, and everyone around the marble dining table laughed. Except for Narayan and me.
“Then you can easily hire a cook rather than complain behind her back, right?” It was Narayan who spoke. “She wouldn’t be expecting you to do that.”
“Oh, my friend,” Jatin smirked. “Get married once, then we will talk of how rosy things are on your side.” All the others seemed to agree with smiles. I looked up at Narayan, who silently shook his head. Then he stared up from his plate. Bibha was serving Gagan, who asked her about her future plans. Narayan’s eyes travelled from her to Lata, who was placing down the curd bowls. My heart made a funny leap.
“Umm… Lata.” I cleared my throat, making her approach me. Narayan’s eyes travelled along with her, much to my detest. “Let Bibha do the rest, you run along.” She frowned at my words.
“Where?” She asked, confused. I looked up at her. She had chosen to wear one of Kakima’s crisp green Tant sarees that day. Her hair was made up into a braid, like always, and locks fell carelessly over her hoop earrings. I opened my mouth to speak.
“How old are you, Lata?” Narayan interrupted as she looked up at him.
“Almost eighteen.” It was Bibha who answered instead, with a smile. Lata suddenly felt conscious. Like she now realised Narayan was watching her. “She has her school final this year.” Bibha quipped again, making it clear that she was amused at Narayan’s sudden interest in Lata. I had to do something. I didn’t know what. My hand moved erratically to grab the bowl of curry, and it toppled over, staining Lata’s saree. She gasped, probably scared of Kakima’s scolding, as she rushed indoors to clean the mess, ignoring my murmured apology, while Kanai da came to clean up the remaining mess. I looked up to see Narayan eyeing me. The men dispersed soon after, promising Thamma to bring their spouses along for her Durga Puja invitation. I had wanted Narayan to stay the night before he caught the morning train to Asansol. Brilliant plan, Debojyoti.
“So this girl…” He said later in the evening, leaning back on the reclining chair of the guest room where he was staying the night. “Umm… Lata… who is she?”
I looked up from the book he had brought for me as a gift. It had a brief history of Indian Railways in it.
“What?” I pretended I didn’t hear him. He sat up, making rings from the puff, something I could never do.
“Lata… is she your relative?” He asked, straightening his Panjabi. I shook my head.
“She stays next door.” I managed to sound disinterested.
“Hmm… is she friends with your sister?” He asked. I nodded, trying to get back to the book. “What about her parents?”
“Why are you suddenly asking about her?” I retorted, trying to make it sound as polite as possible.
“I am just… curious. They must want her to get married, given her age…” He cleared his throat and eyed me.
“Oh, that.” I let out the fakest chuckle that probably existed in the history of humanity. “Umm… she is… err… engaged.”
“Engaged? To whom?” He sounded like he didn’t believe me. I eyed him once as he shrugged.
“I mean… good for him, lucky man.” He let out three rings again. I smiled involuntarily, hiding my face behind the book he had brought. He eyed me again, trying to ignore the topic of conversation.
“You like her, don’t you?” The book fell right out of my hand while he laughed. I looked a little petrified at Narayan. Did he know some sort of black magic? How on earth did he reach such a conclusion? I opened my mouth to protest. But before I could, Lata was at the threshold. She walked in to greet Narayan with a smile and then turned to me with a frown on her face, telling me how I had once again forgotten to ask the doctor if we should increase Thamma’s painkiller dose.
“How many times have I reminded you of it, Deb da?” She frowned, her voice a little low as she was still aware of Narayan’s presence, yet had to say what was on her mind. “Thamma’s knee pain has increased.” She sounded concerned.
“I will call him tomorrow.” I fumbled, still aware of Narayan observing me.
“You better.” She murmured under her breath, enough for me to hear as she walked away again. I watched her go and caught Narayan eyeing me with a smile.
“What?” I frowned again. He rubbed his chin and leaned back into the chair again.
“You two act like you are married already.”
“No, we don’t!” I protested loudly. But my face perhaps told him what he needed to know. “Please don’t speak in this manner in front of her.” I almost begged, immediately. He laughed a teasing laugh, leaning forward to pat my shoulder as he said, “You are in love, my friend.” It suddenly scared me. He saw through me. What if anyone else did too?
He had left the day after, as I subtly spoke of his good nature, stable job and family at the lunch table. Bibha looked up to say, “He would be perfect for Lata.” Ananta stopped at his morsel and frowned.
“What do you mean?” he asked. Bibha shrugged.
“You know… He took quite an interest in her. I honestly found the man a little vain over his newly acquired job, though.” I sighed. With that, the plan failed. I didn’t see Narayan again until years later, when he came to our house, as a widower, with his infant girl. But that story is for another day.
The five-day Durga Pujo frenzy brought families home from across the country, and once again, the house was full of people. Thamma loved that. She kept repeating it, reminding her of her good old days as a newlywed in a house full of people when every branch of the family stayed in Punya. Boudi came home on the day of Mahalaya, after promising to be home at least a fortnight before, and made an excuse of Khoka’s newly appointed teacher and his schooling. Dada didn’t even care to make excuses. Unlike the daughter-in-law, he wasn’t answerable to any of us. We didn’t care much either, as most of the arrangements were already done with Thamma’s instructions and Lata’s help. Boudi overlooked the remaining, criticised Lata’s choice of clothes for the marquee and bought some new sarees from the salesman who came all the way from Bangladesh at Thamma’s one call.
Then she did the unthinkable. She popped the question about my marriage to Thamma. She insisted that, as my sister-in-law, she had the right to choose a match as I was of marriageable age. My worst nightmare was coming true as she suggested her own sister as a match. I met Kankana only once in my life, that too during Dada’s wedding frenzy. I was aware she was studying English at Bethune College in Calcutta and that her parents were looking for a match. They had written to Thamma about it. But that was all I knew of her. Thamma kept quiet, dismissing the topic, saying she would discuss it once the guests dispersed, fully aware that Boudi would also leave at the same time. It was Ananta who came running into my room, with a gleeful smile, telling me about this conversation taking place in Thamma’s room, while he massaged her feet.
“Who else was in the room?” I asked the surprising Ananta, who perhaps expected me to scold or even dismiss him.
“Umm… Boudi, Didibhai, Didi…” I inhaled. “They were all excited about the idea.” He added. I looked up at him.
“What did Thamma say?” I asked, a little hopeful.
“That she would talk about it after the puja. Boudi has got a picture of her sister too.” Ananta was quick to add before he left. Unlike Bibha and Lata, he didn’t wait for my reactions, nor read into them much. I had brought this storm upon myself. I knew exactly where this came from.
Lata walked into the library on the afternoon of Panchami when the courtyard was bustling with people. The finishing touches were being put on the idol, the clothes were being put over the bamboo structures of the marquee, and people who were employed particularly for the Durga puja time were cleaning up the guest rooms as everyone was set to arrive the next day. I was in the library, noting down a few things from a book I had just finished, before my privacy was invaded by the flocks of relatives who came and went like migratory birds in the winter. As was my habit, I didn’t look up to acknowledge her as she walked straight up to my table and kept a brown paper envelope on my desk, making me look up.
“Boudi told me to slip this into your work.” She said rather honestly, “I thought of giving it to you instead.”
She let go of the envelope before I picked it up and proceeded to put some books back in their places. I opened the flap to find a black and white studio-clicked picture of a woman, clad in a saree, with pearls around her neck, her hair done nicely and a smile that matched that of Koni Boudi. Kankana had grown up since the last time I saw her. I frowned and put it back down on the table as Lata eyed me.
“She is beautiful.” She spoke, in between moving around the place. “And her nose is very sharp.”
“Unlike yours.” I almost spoke, amused, as she always seemed bothered by her blunt nose. She often said it was bigger than her face, making Ananta and Bibha reassure her of the otherwise. I never cared to comment, but I couldn’t help being amused at how she thought a pointed nose was a qualification for a good match. She walked up to the desk to collect the heaps of books on it and stopped.
“She knows how to cook, sew…” She ranted, perhaps from what Koni Boudi told her to say. Perhaps Boudi had gathered her way to talk of the match, Thamma ignored if I showed my interest in her sister.
“I heard she knows how to bake, too. You should learn from her.” I looked up at Lata’s taken-aback face as I spoke. Her jaws tightened as she took the books up close to her chest.
“You seem to know a lot about her.” Her tone seemed displeased. I eyed her as she turned her back to me and placed the books back on the shelves.
“Shouldn’t I?” I asked, leaning back on my chair, trying to decipher her sudden change of tone. “I heard she knits well, too.”
“I can knit too,” Lata spoke almost in childish innocence as she turned with a slightly disapproving glance at me. “But then you say that all that doesn’t matter. You said so to Didi.”
I inhaled, trying to hide a smile that came on the tip of my lips. Truth be told, I was amused at how she reacted. Did it mean something more than she was letting on? Or was she too naive to understand what I did? Or she was simply scared of the fact that someone would walk into this house and take over? Either way, Lata seemed disturbed by the idea.
“Well, if one cooks well, it does help,” I said with a light shrug. She eyed me.
“Good for you then, you should tell Boudi that it's a yes. It will be good for all of us.” She turned away from me, placing the last book in place, then wiping her forehead with the corner of her saree.
“How will it be good for you?” I knew I was pushing it, but I was definitely curious as I walked up to her and stopped a few feet away, crossing my arms on my chest.
“Well, I don’t have to attend to your beck and call every day. You won’t lose things that are right under your nose. I won’t have to cook for your guests and look after Thamma or Ananta. I won’t be needed anymore.” She stopped at my stare and looked away immediately. If I wasn’t imagining it, her eyes sparkled a little. Perhaps she was scared of losing out on the people who needed her around. Perhaps she feared we would all forget her like her father.
“And what makes you think you would be relieved of your duties?” I was still eyeing her flushed face as she refused to look back at me.
“Ami janina, bhul hoeche amar kotha bole. Uff.” She walked away without answering my question.
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