The Chatujee house was first occupied when I was around six years old. I remember vaguely that both Dada and I were intrigued when they came to meet Thamma for the first time, the men of the house. Kedar Kaka, Lata’s father and Kusum Kaku didn’t look much like siblings. Where Kedar Kaka was dusky, tall and had sharp eyes, Kaku was a timid man, fair like he had anaemia, and spoke very less, often avoiding eye contact. What intrigued me most about them was that between themselves they often used a dialect we didn’t understand. I remember Kedar Kaka brought Thamma a white saree, the first Durga Puja they spend here. That surprised the old lady as he said almost pleadingly to her to accept the gift, for they who had lost their mother before moving here, had no other elders to bless them. Thamma took a liking to the man. Kedar Kaka was a knowledgeable man. He would often borrow books from our library and more than once I had heard Lata tell random information to Bibha or Ananta even later on in life, which she claimed were told by her father.
I am not sure where he worked, but I would often find him seeking advice from Thamma on matters related to finance. He was always cheerful when we met, greeting all of us children with our nicknames rather than formally, and had the warm vibe Boro Kakima also had. When I was fourteen, about to sit for my annual examinations, he had one day shared with me his worries for Lata’s education. Her mother was uneducated, her brother was an infant and Kedar Kaka wanted Lata to study and get educated well. He had high hopes for her. Unlike many of our parent’s times, Perhaps even my own father, Kedar Kaka, never distinguished between his children because Lata was a girl child. He bought them the same kind of toys, emphasised her education and always said she was a blessing in his life. “She is intelligent.” He used to say it often, with a spark in his eyes. I don’t know how much of that Lata remembered, but her father was proud of her.
Kedar Kaka had changed a lot in the two months that we saw of him after Kakima passed. He was withdrawn, never smiled or greeted anyone and seemed to be quite aloof even among people. Perhaps he was thinking about leaving for a long time. I remember Baba telling my mother that he had perhaps lost his sanity. I had seen the mad old man who sat under a banyan tree on our way to school, throwing rocks at people. I was surprised. Kedar Kaka looked nothing like that, why would he say such a thing? The first day Lata came to my room after he left, I observed her, a little worried that she might have something to share. She spoke only of the doubts she had about her homework and left in a hurry. I had felt restless and wanted to know what was going on in her little head. Ma was there for her, thankfully, when that happened and perhaps that is why she became very close to my mother.
It was a few months before Indira Gandhi declared an Emergency that Police arrived at the Chattopadhyay house one morning. Kakima came running, agitated and scared, as Lata, who was attending to Thamma in her room, walked out with a questioning face. I was in the library and I heard her tell Lata, in her rather loud voice, that the police were looking for her. I intervened. Kakima informed them that they said it was about Kedar Kaka. We had heard his name from someone outside the family after nearly fifteen years. I frowned as Lata’s face turned a little pale at the mention of her father. She looked at me, and gulped, as I reassured her, walking over to their house, besides her when the Police talked to her. They had the description of a missing man that Kaku had reported some odd years back. They found a man that matched the description. Before Lata could speak, Kaku looked surprised and happy.
“That is such good news.” He gushed “He is found.” The Policeman shook his head. The man was dead, found in one of the Naxalite hideouts they had discovered recently. They were here, to check the house, and his belongings and ask questions. Kakima pulled the saree anchol over her mouth as she gasped.
“That can’t be.” It was Lata who said, “That is not my father. He would not…” Her words died on her lips as Kakima shook her head.
“I can’t believe he would put us through this… Are we in trouble?” She asked Kaku who now stood a little grim, silenced by the information. It was he who first suspected that his brother had become a rebel, but now it seemed as if he found it difficult to accept.
“Are you sure that is him?” It was I who spoke to the policeman next as he shook his head.
“You are?” The Policeman looked unsure at me.
“Her husband.” It was Kakima who spoke for me as the Policeman nodded.
“The description matches the missing person but… we need family members to identify him.” That was hope, as Kaku looked up and Kakima sighed.
“I will go.” To my surprise, Lata spoke before I could.
“You don’t have to do that, Kaku and I can…” She shook her head. “I want to go with you.” So we followed the Police Jeep, in my car, with Kaka in the back seat and Lata sitting beside me. I could sense she was tense but put up a brave face when Kaku lamented that his brother couldn’t leave his child for joining rebellions nor leave the world like that without answers.
The very moment we entered the police mortuary, I wished I never would have to step inside another one ever again. It smelled of death. Lata pulled her anchol instinctively over her nose and eyed me. Even in her moment of tension and truth, she was instinctively concerned about me. Kaku and I left her at the door of the cold storage room and walked inside. The dead body was laid on a stretcher in front of us, with a sheet over it. The ward boy removed the sheet. The face of a dark-skinned man in his forties emerged. I had never seen the man in my life. Kaku cried in relief as he shook his head. Lata inhaled, trying to control her tears as he spoke.
That night, as I drew her closer in my arms, when we laid side by side on our bed, looking up at the whirling fan, Lata, for the first time wondered aloud where her father was. Was he even alive? Did he know how she was? Her sadness concerned me. I promised her that one day he would be found, she would have all her answers and he would be proud of who she was becoming. She stared at me, her eyes sparkling a little as she whispered that he would be happy to see us. I smiled faintly as I agreed, and kissed her forehead gently before we fell asleep in each other’s arms. We never found out anything about Kedar Kaku. Where he was, where he went and if he was alive, remains a mystery to us, even today.
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