Protidaan: Chapter Seventeen

Lata remembered how Koni Boudi had directly told her that she wasn’t welcome anymore, as Kankana was there. Kankana was older than Bibha by a year or so. She would learn what she needed to learn to take care of the house. Lata had suddenly felt abandoned again. Like she was left with nothing. In taking care of Thamma and looking after the house, she had found her purpose. People still wanted her and needed her, unlike her father. Be it Ananta or Deb Da or Didi, she liked catering to their needs as it somehow validated her existence. As small as it might sound to others, to Lata, this was her world. And one fine day, a stranger came to snatch it from her. It made Lata realise how she had made a world out of temporary things. She was never meant to be in it forever. She overheard Kakima speak to Kaku about the much-talked-about wedding of Kankana and Deb Da. If it went through, it meant that Deb Da could perhaps move away to Calcutta too, like Koni Boudi persuaded Dada once. 

She hadn’t stepped out of the home that day. She wasn’t feeling well, yet she had no fever, no symptoms that would be attributed to a sickness, nor exactly feeling unwell. Yet she was feeling like lying all day in her bed and not stepping out of her room. She tried to peep out of the window that overlooked the street, and across it was the gateway of the Bhattacharya home. She shut her windows tight, fearing Bibha might spot her. She didn’t go out on the balcony or the roof. She told Kakima she was unwell. Kakima assumed that she was going through her monthly ordeal and let her be. After all, she knew the girl overworked herself. She had heard Bibha enquire about her welfare as well.

It was the next day when Shobha appeared on the doorstep, book in hand, enquiring about her well-being. Lata made her sit on the bed as she exchanged the read books with unread ones in relative silence, as Shobha watched her.

“So, you are unwell?” She nodded in silence.

“What is the illness?” Shobha enquired, “Bibha didi said…”

“Did she send you here to enquire?” Lata cut her off as she shook her head. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while, so I was worried.” Lata nodded, grateful that Shobha cared. But for how long? Even her mother was looking for a groom. Sooner or later, she would also be married off. Then they would see each other very rarely. Lata sighed.

“And Deb Da is getting married?” Shobha sat up on the bed, going through the pages of the book in her hand. Lata looked up at her words.

“I suppose so.” She tried to sound indifferent.

“And he told you nothing?” Shobha frowned. “That is odd.”

“What is odd about it?” Lata looked displeased. “Why will he tell me…”

“Lata.” Shobha stared at her, making her stop. “Is there something you are not telling me? Something I should know?”

“What are you talking about?” Lata frowned, looking away.

“Maybe you are not sick, maybe you need someone to talk to?” Shobha suggested. “I am here to talk, Lata. You can tell me if you feel anything about Deb Da and…” Lata gasped, looking agitatedly at Shobha and across the empty threshold and open door, fearing someone might hear them.

“Are you out of your mind?” She shook her head, “You say whatever you feel like and…”

“Really?” Shobha stood up, facing Lata. “And you don’t talk of him all the time?” Lata opened her mouth to protest as Shobha continued, “Deb Da does this, he said that he likes this, he prefers that… all day?” Shobha shook her head. “Either you are naive or plain stupid.” She almost scolded as Lata’s eyes teared up.

“Stop it. Please. I don’t want to talk about this.” She stepped away. “You don’t understand. It is not that simple.”

“Yes, I don’t understand Lata, for I have never felt that way about anyone. But it is not a crime if you did. It is alright if he doesn’t feel the same. Doesn’t make your feelings wrong.” Shobha made Lata look up at her as she smiled faintly. “I know you will deny it. So let it be. I just came by to make sure you are alright.” Shobha walked away as she sank to her bed, teary and silent, reflecting on her conversation. What did Shobha see? What did she miss? More importantly, what did Deb Da know? Did he pity her? Lata’s throat went dry. The last thing she ever wanted from him was pity.

“Oh, she is sick,” Kakima told Bibha, who inquired from the balcony as soon as she spotted Kakima up on the roof. Bibha wanted to go see her, saying it was urgent. Kakima said Lata was just sleeping all day, covered in a blanket. She had no fever, no cough or cold. What was the illness then? Bibha frowned. I closed my window after hearing the conversation. I didn’t know whether or not Bibha had visited her. I paced my room a little, then walked straight up to Dada’s room and knocked after an hour or so. Boudi opened the half-closed door, and Dada sat on the study table, his glasses on his nose. Kankana and Bibha sat chatting on the bed, playing cards, and Khoka played on the floor.

I will never forget the tantrum Boudi threw that evening. Thamma stared at me angrily as I looked away, and Boudi accused me of insulting her, her parents and her sister. All I did was tell her the completely honest truth that I couldn’t marry her sister. She was not the type I wanted. Unlike Thamma, who was good at keeping Boudi in the loop, deferring the conversation by days and months, I had to say it. It angered Boudi and, in turn, Dada. She swore to go back to Calcutta the next day and never see my face again. That indirectly meant she wasn’t coming back to Punya. Dada shouted at me, agitated that I had gone far enough.

“Unnecessary insults will not be tolerated. Don’t forget I am your elder brother.”

“And this is my life, Dada.” I refrained from reminding him how he chose a bride, just so that he could have the funds for his firm. Truth be told, he must have regretted it someday. The moment I said those words, I had a deja vu moment with my father. The last argument I had with him ended with him slapping me after the same exact line. I lost him, right after. Suddenly, I feared losing Dada, and without much thought, I hugged him. He was taken aback, as was Boudi and the entire family. They must have thought I was insane to pick a fight in one moment and hug him the next,

“I am sorry, Dada, I didn’t want to insult you. But this is my life.” I said, still in the hug. He separated me, holding me back by my shoulders. Something in his eyes said he did understand and was worried for me as he just nodded silently. Boudi fumed. I couldn’t sleep the entire night as I tossed and turned in bed. I knew what I had to do. I needed to go and see Lata the very next day. Clear out whatever was going on in her head. But how? I looked up at the whirling ceiling fan. How could I just walk into their home and demand to speak to her? Wouldn’t that be rather odd? I needed to find an excuse before dawn.

Lata wondered, sitting in her room, pretending to read a book, if she misinterpreted her existence, all the while as her Kakima reminded her Kaku that he should look for a groom for Lata too, especially since it would be particularly difficult given her father’s decision and their limited dowry. Lata sank back in her chair and closed her eyes. She remembered her father, who had held her close, patting her hair gently while he wiped his tears on lonely nights. He had often talked of her mother as if she were still alive and had travelled some distance away.  Like he wanted to believe it. She had heard her relatives rebuke that he was slipping away, and the tragedy took a toll on his sanity. 

Then one day, he was writing a letter when Lata walked in with Sharbat and set it down gently on the table. Her father had looked up with a faint smile. Making her sit down on his lap, he told seven-year-old Lata something she remembered till that day.

Don’t tell anyone… this is our little secret… But she made a mistake. She told her only friend, Shobha. Shobha didn’t even remember it, did she? She didn’t even know what he meant when she repeated his words.

Do you know what Baba said? I am supposed to stay at Thamma’s place when I grow up.

Her father had left that night. The next morning, she woke up to Kakima’s shriek and Kaku’s lamenting, and scared as she was, with nobody to hold on to, she was teary and alone. She blamed herself for it. Maybe her father had found out she had told someone their secret, and he had left her in anger. She had let him down. Guilt filled the child’s heart that she was the cause of her own misery. It was Jethaima who had held her that day and kissed her forehead, reassuring her that she wasn’t parentless with her present. When Jethaima passed away in childbirth, her doubts were changed into concrete beliefs. She was cursed. She lost the people she loved, and those who loved her.

Almost a decade later, Lata blinked away her tears as she remembered something else her father had said. Something she hadn’t repeated to Shobha. You don’t belong to me anymore; you belong to Debojyoti. Do what he says. She didn’t want to lose more people by spilling out the rest of the secret. Lata kept it hidden in the deepest corner of her heart, unsure of what her father meant. As she grew older, the secret was buried so deep in her subconscious mind that she forgot it existed, it mattered or what it implied. But she wasn’t the naive girl that she used to be anymore. As the memory of her father’s words came back, Lata jolted in realisation. 

She understood it today when she realised what her father meant. But why did he say that? Why would he say something like that out of the blue? Were the relatives right to call him a madman? Deb Da would be married to Kankana. He liked her, surely. She had never seen him sing like that. Lata’s jaws tightened. He didn’t even want her around the house, helping with guests like before. Lata sighed. It was all for the better, maybe. Her Kaku would soon marry her off. Her heart sank a little. How would she fulfil her father’s last words then? Would she fail to be a good daughter once again? Tears rolled down her face as she spent sleepless nights, worried, lost in thought. What disturbed her more was the fact that Deb da’s praising Kankana and his silence about Boudi’s treatment of her hurt her. Why did she expect him to stand by her? Why did she expect him to believe the letters weren’t hers? How could she think of another man? How would he possibly know what was in her heart? He never did. He treated her just the way he treated Bibha. At least that’s what he kept repeating. Lata was just being silly. She imagined in her mind the scenario if she went up to him and confided her secret to him. He wouldn’t believe her. Worse, what if he, like Koni Boudi, thought she was after something? She shook her head. She couldn’t say what she felt after all this. He was about to be someone else’s. She decided to go say her final goodbyes without them being aware of it.

She had walked into the library where he usually sat reading. She had kept back the books she borrowed and found his shoes there. Teary-eyed, from knowing that she might not be welcome anymore, she touched his shoes, as though she sought his blessings. He wanted her to study. He prepared her for her final examinations. She would make him proud. He would somehow know that she did well. She had wiped away her tears before slipping out of the Bhattacharya house, glancing over her shoulder one last time. This was always more home than her own home in the past few years. He was going to be married, and soon, she would be too. Then she would never see him again. 

She cried herself to sleep that night and the night after. She dreamt of her father walking down the streets towards their door and knocking. Telling her that he had, at last, come to take her along. Where to, she had asked. Home, he said. Lata was happy in her dream. As happy as she was in Maa’s lap or while playing with Prabhash. She was secure. She was home. It didn’t matter where it was. Nobody left. Nobody forgot her. She woke up to a knock on the main door. For a good minute, she thought that her dream had turned into reality, and her father had come home. Her heart beat fast as she sensed Kaku approach the main door and open it. 

“Aree aree, Debojyoti babu je, esho esho.” She sat up on the bed at Kaku’s words, suddenly realising she wasn’t dreaming at all.

The moment the blue floral curtains of the Chattopadhyay living room were moved apart, I was relieved to see Lata come into the living room with a cup of tea, carefully avoiding my glance. Her wet hair hung loosely from her shoulders as she walked up to us. 

Her Kaku was overwhelmed to see me at their threshold early in the morning, and I made a perfect excuse that I needed some advice on some paperwork that would pass through his department. I made up a problem as he sat on the chair beside the couch, trying to solve it. I was well aware that mornings were particularly busy in the Chattopadhyay house. Kakima rushed about cooking for her husband before he went to work and getting her girls ready, and Lata would be bound to help if an additional chore popped up. She placed the teacup on the table as Kaku shook his head.

“Hand it to him.” He commanded. Lata inhaled as she brought the teacup and saucer closer to me, prompting me to hold them. My fingers slightly brushed hers as she looked up. She didn’t look sick. She looked sleep-deprived. I couldn’t tell what was wrong, but I could sense something was. She looked away and stood there. I took a sip of the drink like I usually did while she stood for my verdict and spoke.

“Thamma wants you at the house. It's your holiday, right? And when you come by, take your copies. I am free in the afternoon.” Kaku was still engrossed in my problem to notice the banter as she nodded reluctantly. Something told me she wasn’t going to come around.

“Dada Boudi is leaving. Someone needs to help Thamma with her medicines, too.” I said as she looked a bit surprised. She was well aware that they weren’t supposed to leave so soon. In fact, Boudi had flaunted a huge plan of bringing her parents for a talk. 

“How is Pishima?” Kaku asked as I told him about her ageing issues. Lata quietly slipped back into the house.

By the time Lata arrived at the Bhattacharya house, Rudrajyoti and his wife were already leaving. She stood unsure at the threshold, watching the servants load their luggage into the car. Boudi stormed out and stopped at her sight.

“What happened, Boudi?” She asked, a little alarmed. “Why are you leaving suddenly?”

“Ask Boro Thakurpo about that.” She snapped. “Esho Kankana.” She called after her sister. Kankana was calmer and politely bid goodbye to Lata, telling her one simple detail. “He didn’t want to marry me; they argued over it.” Kankana didn’t seem as bothered as her sister was.

Lata noticed how nobody from the house came to see them off, as Khoka waved Lata Pishi goodbye. She stood on the porch, a little alarmed and worried. He rejected Kankana after all that? Why?

Lata had walked into Thamma’s room to see her lying on the bed, eyes closed. Her footsteps made her look up.

“Good that you are here. Where have you been, girl?” Thamma scolded. She kept quiet as Thamma lamented about the previous evening. 

“I was handling her. Why did he need to talk like that? Didn’t he trust me? I wasn’t going to get him married there, obviously.” She shook her head as Lata quietly went about her way and arranged her medicines.

“Should I get the oil for your massage?” She asked as Thamma shook her head. “Go and check on the children. All of them have been looking for you.” She sighed.

Lata had walked into Ananta’s room, heard him rant about the same incident and how much he didn’t like Boudi and finally scolded him to make him stop. He followed her around from his room to Deb’s. He had already left for work, and his room was a mess. She cleaned it up, and Ananta left for a Jalsa at a friend’s place. A well-known singer was coming there. He didn’t want to miss the live performance. 

“They sound different from on record.” He said as he took Lata’s leave. Lata then walked into Bibha’s room and was surprised by a hug.

“Are you alright? I was worried sick.” She nodded at Bibha’s words.

“I tell you, everyone here is a hypocrite.” She shook her head as Lata sat down on the edge of the bed, watching her pace the room. “Dada wants to choose a partner for me, while he stops Boudi from doing the same for him.”

“Kali Da said something?” Lata asked worriedly. Bibhavati shook her head. 

“I am saying it. Such hypocrisy.”

“Maybe we can convince him to talk to Kali Da, one more time?” Lata suggested.

“What will happen? Don’t you remember the last meeting?” Bibha shook her head. “He kept bringing out flaws. As if he’s flawless.”

“He wants your best,” Lata said softly.

“Then he should let me be!” Bibhavati snapped. Kanai’s voice suddenly rang through the corridor as they stopped.

“Mejo Dadababu is home, Lata Didimoni.” Lata’s heart skipped a beat as Bibha, still annoyed, shook her head.

I walked into my neatly arranged room, overwhelmed with relief. Her presence was known in each and every corner of it, from the freshly placed flowers in the vase to the neatly arranged things on the dresser. Kanai walked in with water when I asked him if Lata was there. She was still in Bibha’s room, he quipped and didn’t wait for me, as he ran to call her. To my surprise, he called her out as his voice rang through the corridor.

“Mejo Dadababu is home, Lata Didimoni.”

I sat down on my bed and removed my watch, eyeing the threshold in anticipation.

Lata walked in after a good five minutes and stood near the wardrobe briefly, before opening it and taking out my change of clothes. I stood up silently, emptying my trouser pockets and putting the notes, pen and paper on the table. She laid down the fresh change of clothes on the bed and straightened the wrinkles where I sat. I turned back and eyed her going about her work, silently. Like she never stopped, nor disappeared. Her hand stopped briefly from fixing the pillow as she was aware of my stare. Her face flushed. But she didn’t look up or question me like always. She knew in that moment of silence in the room, between us, what it actually meant, perhaps for the first time. She cleared her throat as she finished tidying up the pillows and stood, holding the poster of the bed with her left hand. I took the key from my left pocket and walked up to her. 

“Here, lock the wardrobe when you are done,” I said, holding the key out for her to take from my palm. She took the ring of the key chain in between her index and thumb, unsurely as I folded my hand, holding her hand in between my palm. Lata shuddered, as though I had touched her for the first time. But she stood frozen in her spot while my heart beat a thousand miles per hour, at the gentle touch of her soft hand in mine. I was finally holding on to her.

“Next time you disappear, at least let me know what bothers you so that I can fix it,” I spoke, letting go while taking the change of clothes from beside her, leaning over on the bed, our figures mere inches away from each other, carefully avoiding touch. I turned to walk to the bathroom while she ran out of my room, leaving the curtains swaying.