Swadhin watched Nonibala Debi hug Abhaya and shed tears. Abhaya suddenly broke down at the warmth of her embrace, and the eldest daughter-in-law, Protibha, joined in. Bimala, the second one, was usually chirpy, and she immediately brought out the conch shell, reminding them it was a happy occasion. He was asked about his visible injuries, and the Leader insisted it was caused when he tried to save Abhaya from people harassing her when he found her. The ladies were too engrossed in the current events or perhaps too trusting of him to inquire further. “That is so brave and unlike you, Choto Thakurpo.” Protima gasped. Bimala smiled. “He truly loves her enough to defend her; is that not sweet?”
The two younger sisters, Renu and Uma, were younger than Abhaya and had gone to visit their Mashi in Medinipur for the holidays. Swadhin was grateful to have two fewer pairs of eyes hovering on him and judging him. Swadhin eyed his brother. Sharat did not anticipate the homecoming to go this easily. He shook his head and walked back to his room. Swadhin watched him stomping up the stairs. He was unable to understand Sharat’s repulsiveness towards Abhaya. Sharat was usually the first one to help people, the first one to be a saviour. Then what changed? He knew Abhaya as long as Swadhin did.
Abhaya tried to compose herself as Nonibala put the Ghomta over her head, covering her hairline. “Newly married women must put on the Ghomta,” Nonibala said to her. “Nojor lege jaye.” The other women agreed. She turned to her husband, who was quietly slipping away from the frenzy towards his room.
“Shunchen…” Nonibala made him stop as she spoke. “We need to have a Satya Narayan Puja performed at home at least and call our close relatives…” She made Swadhin stare, unsurely, as Abhaya looked scared. “Even if they got married on their own, we have to…” Her husband nodded silently. Nonibala, in her thirty-something-odd years of marriage, had known that look to be “Do what you want and keep me away from it.”
“But I…” Swadhin spoke unsurely. “Have to leave for Dhaka…” He eyed Abhaya as she lowered her head further. Bimala gasped. “She just came home, Thakurpo.” She shook her head. “Do you have no sense?”
“Do any of them?” Protima agreed. “Listen to that, Bon.” Abhaya looked up at her new “sisterly” address from Protima. “You have to wait a week for him to come back to start your married life.” The amused sisters-in-law exchanged glances as Nonibala pressed her lips and smiled. Swadhin opened his mouth to protest again. To tell them he was not planning to return home anytime soon. Especially now.
Nonibala turned to him as if she could read his mind. “You, young man. I know you are old enough now that you decide to do things yourself.” There was a hint of disappointment in her voice not to be missed. “It is your father’s liberal mind that makes us accept this without a fuss, but that doesn’t mean you would be as light as a feather as you were before. Make sure you visit home every weekend without fail. Abhaya should not feel lonely here.”
“All of you are here.” Swadhin frowned at his mother’s words as the ladies giggled. Abhaya pressed her lips together and inhaled. “How will she be alone?”
“Not alone, lonely, Thakurpo.” Bimala chuckled. “Oh, you are still so naive.” Nonibala eyed her son. “This is not a choice, it's my order.” He nodded at his mother.
“Poltu, Molly, Bini.” She called out to her three grandchildren. The eldest was around seven, and the other two were younger by two years consecutively. The others were visiting their Mamabari for the holidays. “Take Notun Kakima to Choto Kaka’s room?” The children were curious at the arrival of Abhaya. She could see it in their eyes as they eyed the Sankha-Pola and red saree. They were even more interested because they had seen her before in a whole different way. She managed a faint smile at them as Molly took her hand, and Poltu ran up the stairs with Bini following them. It was then that Nonibala turned to her son in a very stern tone and said, “Come with me.” Swadhin eyed his sisters-in-law and exchanged amused glances as they followed their mother-in-law inside.
When Swadhin reached the threshold of his parents’ bedroom, he could spot his father on the reclining chair next to the bed, reading a book. He looked relaxed and engrossed enough not to look up or acknowledge his wife storming into the room, followed by the ladies and a reluctant Swadhin. Nonibala Debi held his ear as Swadhin yelped.
“What were you thinking?” She asked sternly. “How dare you run away with her?” Swadhin looked a little petrified and winced as she twisted his earlobe, and the women laughed. “Did you think we would oppose?” She shook her head, “Abhaya is like a daughter.”
“Let him be.” Her husband spoke without looking up from his book. “He did something noble today.” Swadhin looked up at his father as their eyes met, and the man nodded at him. “I am proud of your upbringing, Bou.” His mother smiled at the praise. “Bouma, take him to the room and tell the idiot to make space for his wife.” The women giggled again as Swadhin followed them out.
“So, Choto Thakurpo,” Bimala spoke first. “Tell us everything.” Swadhin looked a little clueless at her, a little clueless. “Tell what?”
“How did you fall in love?” Protibha asked. “We are like your sisters, indulge us in some stories.” Swadhin’s eyebrows raised at their excitement. “Was it when we spent summers shopping for sarees in their courtyard, or when we met on the roof for the Sunday feast?”
“Or before that? Did you meet each other in secret? Exchange letters?” Bimala asked. “If yes, teach your Mej Da to write letters. He barely writes to me, even when he is away for a long time.” The ladies were pulling his leg, amused, and Swadhin quietly let them. He had no story to tell and had no desire to make up one. It was easier to feign shyness. What could he tell them? That his father took them in the same bullock cart two villages away to a friend’s house, and his wife provided the sindoor and shakha pola? Or that her husband married them quite quickly, with just the Lord as witness to their union, as his hand trembled putting the sindoor on the hairline of a scared and reluctant Abhaya, who had tears in her eyes? How could he reassure her they were doing the right thing? How could he know so himself? He eyed the open door to Sharat’s room and decided he could talk to him at least now. Sharat had watched Abhaya take his blessings, but he had not said a word since. Abhaya had anticipated him to say something as she stared at Swadhin, who shook his head. He needed to know what Naw Da was thinking. His Sisters-in-law were now disinterested in his lack of response and walked to his room, perhaps to talk to Abhaya or check on the children. He straightened his wrinkled Panjabi when his eyes fell on the sindoor at the tip of his index finger. He sighed and walked towards Sharat’s room.
Sharat was checking the drawers of his writing desk as if he were looking for something. He stopped as Swadhin arrived and shut them all.
“What do you want?” He asked rather coldly.
“Answers.” Swadhin shrugged. “Why are you behaving like this?’
“Like what?” Sharat frowned.
“Naw Da, if something is bothering you…”
“Swadhin, I am only concerned for Baba’s safety.”
“So am I, but…” Swadhin looked up at him. “That doesn’t mean we leave Abhaya like that. Since we…” He lowered his voice carefully, “... are the cause of her woes.” Swadhin looked up at Sharat, still wearing a frown.
“I mean, you are the last person I expected to oppose a humanitarian bid. Even Baba said what I did was noble.” He stopped at Sharat’s amused chuckle.
“You can’t possibly think that this marriage is about humanity and your noble sacrifice is to be hailed by generations and whatnot.” He shook his head tauntingly as Swadhin looked at him disapprovingly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, somewhere in your subconscious mind, you wanted this.” Sharat watched him protest loudly.
“You are being absurd.”
“Am I? You did not abandon her because you care, right?” He questioned his brother’s intentions. Sharat was observant, and he had never observed his brother being so concerned with another woman’s feelings as he was today. He had caught Swadhin trying to decipher Abhaya’s tears and face more than once throughout their journey home. That was unlike his brother. He always saw him as blissfully clueless about women’s feelings, like he was.
“Of course, I care, doesn’t mean I had some ulterior motive to…” Swadhin protested.
“You didn’t? So what about anyone else you might like?” Sharat’s words suddenly made Swadhin think of Meera once, and made him inhale.
“I don’t like anyone else either. Why are we talking about this? You are my elder brother.” Swadhin looked awkward.
“Marriages are supposed to be sacred, right? Yours is a sham. How would it last? What would it last on? Either both of you will be miserable for the rest of your lives, or you will part ways. Neither of them ensures happiness. And if you part ways, you can go ahead and marry, even have a career and kids, but what about her?” Swadhin looked up at his brother, still wearing a faint smile. “Abhaya would be left nowhere if she chooses to leave you. I care. For her and you. That is why I opposed this. Don’t you see what I see? What if someday she truly falls in love? Or you do? With someone else?” Swadhin’s throat was dry.
“We can talk about that.” He said. “But you are hurting her with your demeanour.”
“Fine, I will talk to her at my own pace,” Sharat reassured. “But make sure the bliss of marriage doesn’t stray you from your path.” Swadhin looked up at his words again. “And don’t tell her things she doesn’t need to know.” He agreed. “Even about my work at Kashipur.”
“Why Kashipur?” Swadhin questioned.
“Don’t tell Baba, but I have been hiding my informant there.” Sharat shrugged and returned to his books, subtly hinting to his brother that it was time for him to leave. Swadhin turned, with a mental note, to talk to Abhaya about everything Sharat was concerned about. He was not wrong.
Meera was not a religious person. However, watching Kanu bring flowers for every room in the house and the other servant ladies piously doing their morning prayers, Meera thought it would only be believable if she did that too. So she went to the market and got an idol of Maa Lakshmi to put on the empty rack in the room. She bought incense and a holder and started going around the room twice daily as if she were praying. Kabir, however, was extremely religious in his ways. He never missed a prayer, and most of the time when Meera forgot about lighting the stick or placing the flowers, he would remind her of it while placing his mat down on the floor to pray. Meera and Kabir had managed to find a balance in their coexistence. After walking around the room and folding her hands, she would shut the door and let him pray while she watched him, sitting on the Khatiya. Once in a while, when Kabir went to the market with Kanu, the kid would point at things Aparna Boudi would like. Ribbons, bangles and all things womanly. Kabir had no idea about these things. The nuances of married life, even as a sham, were entertaining and a learning sphere. The first time he brought bangles for Meera, they were too big for her wrist. She laughed when he admitted he did not know Bangles had sizes. But she was surprised he even considered Kanu’s request.
“Just to keep off the suspicion. I should look like I love my wife,” he smiled sheepishly.
“Of course,” Meera said as she kept the bangles. “Next time…” She opened a box and handed him a glass one. “Bring in this size.” Kabir nodded, watching her amused face. Meera had found another way to get into the office of the prosecutor. It was a mistake to tell them that she was educated. Because of that, she was never allowed to clean the office. However, Kanu had lived in the house since he was a kid, and his father was their watchman. He could not read or write but was intelligent enough to know his way around. He knew the symbols of the government papers and the stamp that meant confidential. He could tell by patterns which case file was what. She could use that. She had befriended the boy, calling him a brother. Now, for the next step of her plan, she needed to bring him on her side.
“So what do you think of freedom fighters?” She asked one day as he cleaned the furniture while she wiped the floors. “Heard some of them were caught last night.”
“Tch tch… that’s sad.” Kanu shook his head. Then he looked around carefully to see if anyone heard them as they worked. “They are doing a noble job, aren’t they?” Kanu smiled. “But don’t talk about them here. If Maa Thakuron hears you, you will be thrown out.” Meera smiled at him. Perhaps it would be easier than she anticipated.
Abhaya looked around the familiar room with an unfamiliar feeling. The children sat on the neatly made bed, wrinkling the sheets, and she stared at the wall cupboard full of books. There was a side table with his medical equipment kept on it and a mirror that hung from the wall. “Come sit with us, Kakima.” Molly jolted her as she smiled faintly. But Abhaya did not sit. Instead, she looked around some more and looked out of the window over the path that led to the road.
“Do you need something in here?” It was Protibha who asked as she turned, and Bimala answered. “Of course she does. This room looks like he lives in a Mess Bari. She needs more space for her clothes and a dressing table. We should tell …” Abhaya shook her head. “All this is fine.”
“Oh, don’t be shy with us, Abhaya.” Protima smiled, holding her cold hands on her own. “We have known you forever.”
“Besides, that husband of yours stays most of the time in Dhaka, you have to have us by your side or else you will feel lonely.” Bimala smiled. “I know the feeling. His brother was away at the beginning of my marriage, and if it wasn’t for Didibhai, I would be so lonely.” Abhaya suddenly felt relieved at the fact that he did not live here. That meant she would have the room and space to herself for most days.
“But you heard Maa tell him to come by every weekend now that she is here,” Protima added. “Like she told Mejo Thakurpo.”
“Boudi…” Abhaya looked awkward as the ladies gasped.
“Please, it is Mejdibhai now.” Bimala reminded her. “And Bordibhai.” Abhaya nodded.
“Naw Da did not look very pleased…” She sounded scared. “Is he angry with me?”
Bimala and Protima shared a laugh.
“Oh, he can be anything but angry at anyone. Naw Thakurpo is good in that way and … weird.” Bimala smiled. “It is always hard to tell what he thinks.”
“Maybe he is upset Choto Thakurpo got married before him.” Protima joked. They shared a laugh. “Perhaps Abhaya can find him a pretty bride since he keeps rejecting the ones Maa talks of.”
“Or maybe tell her something simple, Didibhai. Like making Payesh, he loves it.”
It was then that Swadhin arrived at the threshold of his room to find the whole house there, and the women led their children out.
“Come now, let's give Choto Kaku some time with his new wife.” The women chuckled amongst themselves as they left with their reluctant children following. Swadhin smiled as he patted Bini’s head, making her nod at him. Abhaya eyed them before turning her eyes outside the window and sighing. Silence filled the room.
“Erm… I went to talk to Naw Da.” He said reluctantly.
“He is upset.” Abhaya sounded indifferent and distant.
“Are you?” Swadhin asked, narrowing his brows. Abhaya sighed. She did not answer.
“Boudi… umm… Mejdibhai said I should just cook him something nice, and he won’t be upset with me anymore.” Abhaya said again as Swadhin contemplated whether he should sit on the bed or take the chair. The chair was very close to where Abhaya stood, and the bed was well… the bed…
“He is not upset with you. I mean…” Swadhin said firmly, “With you in particular. Just with the turn of events.”
Abhaya did not seem convinced. She glanced over her shoulder as the drape fell on her shoulder loosely over her head, revealing her sindoor-clad hairline. The bindi drawn with vermilion on her forehead seemed to have faded a little.
“I never thought Naw Da was like this.” She said scornfully. Swadhin found himself defending his brother. “I thought he would not misunderstand…”
“He told me things which seemed right.” His voice was firmer than usual.
“Like?” Abhaya asked, narrowing her brows at him. “How am I the enemy!?” Swadhin looked up at her words. “How should you be wary of my every move within the confines of the house?” Swadhin did not protest. It would be futile. He removed his watch, placing it on the table as Abhaya eyed him. He then rolled his sleeves up as he spoke.
“Like what if…” Swadhin was suddenly awkward about speaking about something so sensitive to Abhaya on the very first day.
“What if?” She waited. He looked up at her. She seemed stronger than he. He was more rattled that day than she was.
“Umm…In the future, where do we stand?” he looked away, rubbing his hands together as she glared at him. He then crossed them close to his chest. “He said it's a sham to marry for a cause so…”
“Cause?” Abhaya interrupted, raising her eyebrows. “Who told him it's the cause?” Her amused voice startled Swadhin. He was strangely intimidated by her composure as she shook her head. “You married me because you thought keeping an eye on me at your home was better than sending me somewhere else so that I can never go to the police.” Swadhin opened his mouth as his narrowed brows turned into a frown. But he could not speak. “That is no cause. Naw Da should not think it is. This is my life sentence.” Swadhin tightened his jaws as he looked up at Abhaya’s teary eyes and trembling lips. Her breathing was heavy, and he suddenly remembered the first day at the hideout when he assumed she was dead.
“He was concerned about the future. Your future.” Swadhin snapped. Abhaya shook her head again as she looked out of the window. “Thinking of the future is futile. Even tomorrow is uncertain.” Swadhin now sat down on the edge of the bed. He was drained from the day, and his knees hurt.
“All I want to tell you is that in the future, if you want to leave, you can. If you leave after finding Didi, you can. If you ever love someone and want to be with them, you deserve to be happy.” He said it as quickly as he could, hoping it was less awkward. He was wrong. Abhaya turned to scrutinise him.
“Are you actually telling that to me or saying that you can do that yourself?” Her words felt like an attack as Swadhin stood up. “I will never leave you.” His words were firm and quick. “I married you believing in the institution of marriage, and I will stand by it. I know you don’t believe me, but my purpose is to protect you.” He stopped watching Abhaya look at him silently. It was like she was watching every breath he took, every time his lips moved, whether his words matched the reflection of the soul in his eyes. Abhaya inhaled.
“Protect me? From your kind, is it?” Her voice was low and unsure. She inhaled and spoke much louder and clearly. “Then what makes you think I don’t respect the institution of marriage? Is that how you think my parents brought me up?” Swadhin was suddenly at a loss for words. He had no idea what he could say. Abhaya did not let the moment linger.
“Did you take the medicines? Cleaned your wounds?” She had a hint of concern in her voice as Swadhin nodded. “While you were with Ma.”
“Bordibhai told me that you don’t stay here most of the year.” She tried to sound normal as the air of awkwardness hung thick between them like the morning mist in the mountains.
“Ma told me to come by every weekend. You heard her. Now that you…” He stopped. Abhaya looked around the room.
“They also told me I can change what I need in the room.” She said rather monotonously. Swadhin nodded. “Of course.”
“Very well.” She said dryly. “I am tired now.”
“Oh.” Swadhin turned to leave uneasily.
“Where are you going?” Abhaya asked, a little alarmed. Swadhin looked confused.
“I thought you… wanted to be alone.” He sounded clueless. Abhaya came and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at his books. “You did not finish the novel.” Swadhin nodded. “Is it here?” Swadhin eyed the novel on his desk and sat down in the chair.
“Yes…” he began to read.
When he had finished a chapter, Abhaya rose from the edge of the bed and asked, “Did you mean it when you said I can study?” Swadhin’s face lit up. “Of course. I can get you books from Dhaka. Baba can appoint a home teacher for you.” Abhaya looked unsure.
“Can’t you teach me? I don’t want…” She stopped. Swadhin knew what she meant. She knew the leader and Sharat Da were guarding their interest. She did not want to indulge them. That was the self-esteem Abhaya he once knew. “But I have to go back to college tomorrow…” He shook his head. “Alright, I can teach you as much as I can on the weekend and weekdays. Boudidi can help you.” He reassured her.
Abhaya suddenly felt hopeful. Nobody at home was enthusiastic about her studies.
“I do know the alphabet, letters, and can write my name. I can read smaller words too.” She suggested. Swadhin nodded. “I will bring you books next weekend, when I am here. Notebooks, pens, pencils too.”
“Finish the story.” Abhaya sat down again. When Swadhin finished, he turned to see that Abhaya had fallen asleep leaning against the bedpost in the upright position. Swadhin contemplated waking her up.
“Umm… Abhaya?” He called softly in vain. It was then that Bimala called from outside.
“Thakurpo, I am coming in.” Her words made Abhaya sit up, trying to look less disoriented. Bimala giggled as she walked in. “I am taking her away now.” She took Abhaya by her hand as Swadhin looked away. “Ma said she should cook something sweet today for dinner.” Abhaya eyed Swadhin, closing the book as she silently followed Bimala out of the room.
Once he was alone, Swadhin looked around the room. Suddenly, the bed seemed too small, the room too narrow, and his things too messy. He took the empty trunk from under his bed and started packing to leave for Dhaka. He took out a few books from the shelf and stopped at an album. In it were pictures his father had them click. Of the family, the children, their spouses and friends. His hand stopped at a family portrait of the Mukhopadhyays and a picture of Abhaya with his sister. He took the pictures out and put them in his book. He knew what to do with them.
Kalyani woke up to find Mohini still sleeping peacefully. She wondered if the girl ever slept at night. Kalyani had fought back a strong urge to ask her how it felt to be touched by a man. She would be judged by a nautch girl for it. But Kalyani was curious. Ever since her marriage, her husband has been bedridden. She slept in a separate cot beside him. And except for the occasional hand-holding reassurances and a pat on her head, her husband had never touched her. Kalyani never knew she could be curious about these things. She eyed the morning sunlight from the small window and fell on Mohini’s Alta-clad feet. Her skin was radiant. Kalyani stared at her pale skin and sighed. Mohini was older than her, yet she looked about a decade older. She wondered about what Mohini revealed. Could she be of any help to Mohini and Sharat? Kalyani had always felt her life was meaningless and cursed. She was a burden on the face of the earth who had no purpose. But Mohini? She could see how motivated she was. She wondered if she could ever feel the same. But not before she apologised to Sharat. She wondered what day it was. Well, the morning prayer was being delayed, and the school bells hadn’t rung for the kids to wake up yet. Her eyes twinkled. It was a Saturday.
Kalyani jumped up from her mat and took out a fresh saree from her bundle. She then went on to finish the day’s chores. It was almost late afternoon when Mohini stepped out of her room, holding the jewellery she had recovered from the ashes discreetly under her anchol and yawned. One of the older ladies eyed her.
“Did you forget your room last night?” She smiled. Mohini shook her head. “I was chatting with Didi when it got late.”
“Don’t feed her your ideas.” The lady said, “Let her find her path.”
“Ask her”, Mohini was defensive. “I said nothing.” Kalyani nodded a little unmindfully, staring at the gates. Mohini eyed her.
“Sharat Da hasn’t come yet?” Mohini’s smile made Kalyani pale.
“I… I don’t know… oh, it's Saturday?” Kalyani asked as Mohini stared like she would peek into her soul. “He must be busy.” Another woman said. “After all, he never came every week until recently.” Kalyani looked up at the woman’s words; her ears felt warm. Mohini smiled with a nod, “I will take a bath.” She walked away, eyeing Kalyani.
It was not until late afternoon that Sharat arrived at the mission. The ladies had left to prepare for the evening meditation, and Mohini sat on the steps reading a book. Kalyani was on the other side, staring at the sky as she asked. “Should I grow my hair, Mohini?” Mohini looked up at her, a little surprised and excited. “Yes, Didi, your hair is so ebony and curly. Like Ma Dugga.”
“As if you have seen her.” Kalyani smiled, and that was when Sharat came in to park his cycle. Mohini closed the book while Kalyani surprised him by walking up to the threshold.
“Why are you late? I thought you would not be coming.” Her accusing tone made Sharat look a little startled at her as Mohini smiled to herself and walked into her room. Sharat eyed her as Kalyani was suddenly flustered. “ I mean…”
“I thought you were angry or something.” He said as he walked into the courtyard and looked around. “Everyone is at the Ashram?” She nodded, following him. “Then I should…”
“Come to my room.” Kalyani interrupted. “Please. We need to talk.”
“Are you alright?” He asked with a concerned tone as Kalyani nodded. He walked with her to her threshold and stopped as she apologised. “Mohini told me everything.” Sharat was alarmed. That girl had no idea what she was doing. Telling a police officer’s grieving family about… “Don’t worry, I know what you are doing may be outlawed, but it is right. They have no right to rule over us.” Sharat opened his mouth to speak. He was curious about why Kalyani thought so. Was it real or a ruse? Kalyani told him everything Mohini had said. Nowhere in that did she mention her father or family. Sharat was relieved.
“Do you face danger often?” She asked with a certain fear reflected in her voice.
“Not always.” He shrugged. “Depends on the work. Sometimes we just sit and observe for days. Sometimes someone is chosen to …” He stopped as he could see Kalyani looking disturbed.
“Please take care of yourself.” She sounded worried. A faint smile from Sharat met her glare.
“I am a small, insignificant part of the movement at the end of the day, Kalyani. My being doesn’t affect the bigger picture. However, I do hope to make an impact.”
“Your being may not affect the movement, but your not being will affect a lot of people, remember that!” She snapped as Sharat looked amused. He folded his hands to his chest, raised his eyebrows and asked, “Really? Whom do I affect?” He could see the colour fade from her cheek. “Your family, of course.” She did not stammer, and it disappointed Sharat. “And the mission. Mohini relies on you a lot. She sees you as a true brother.”
“You seem to have suddenly become affectionate towards her.” Sharat sounded amused. “So your perceptions can change after all?” Kalyani eyed him.
“Only when they are right in my eyes.” She expected him to say something, and he did not. “I can also help. If the work is within my limits.” She made Sharat smile. “You want to help?” He asked, surprised. She nodded. “I have never had a purpose in life.” His smile faded at her words. “I will keep it in mind, in case I need your help.” Kalyani looked guilty again.
“Are you angry with me?” She asked. A surprised Sharat laughed. “What makes you say that?” Kalyani pressed her lips together and looked away. Her ears felt warm as she murmured, “You came late.”
“There was a … umm… family emergency.” Kalyani scrutinised him, concerned at his words. “Is everyone alright?” He nodded. “Just that Swadhin got married.”
“That is wonderful.” Kalyani smiled. “ Wish him the best.” She looked a little awkward and asked. “Isn’t he younger than you?”
“Yes, by almost four years.” Sharat had his hands in his pockets as he spoke, “My mother is going berserk about finding me a bride.” He chuckled a little as Kalyani nodded. He looked up at her serious face and added, “But I don’t want to.” Kalyani looked up, and their eyes met. “Why?” She asked, hoping her voice did not tremble.
“Because I want to work for the motherland. Why trouble a woman with my woes?” He held out some paisa as Kalyani accepted it with a nod. “Right, of course, but there are many men out there fighting the battle with their wives by their side. They make them stronger.” Sharat eyed her as she stopped. “So I have heard.” She added. Sharat nodded.
“I will keep that in mind next time Maa goes berserk,” he chuckled. Kalyani’s throat felt dry, and she gulped. “You also deserve happiness.” She said reassuringly.
“So do you.” he turned to leave. Kalyani inhaled, watching him go as she stared at the money in her palm.
It was evening when she stepped out into the open courtyard beside the orphanage because she heard someone singing. The kids followed in their out-of-tune screams.
“Karar oi Louho Kopat Bhenge Fel Kor re Lopat
Rokto Jomat Shitol pujor Pashan Bedi.”
Kalyani stopped at the tune of the song. It was a known song among the freedom fighters. Telling people to break the shackles. She could now see Sharat teaching the song to the orphaned children under the tree at the centre of the courtyard near the school. Kalyani could suddenly see the whole picture. The mission was meant to build them for a future of serving their country with the principle of freedom as a birthright. After a few times, she got hold of the tune while she sat in the distance, on the stairs of the administrative office, repairing some clothes heaped on her lap. Those belonged to the children and needed repairing. She hummed the tune to herself. Mohini was at the threshold of the house, perhaps drawn there by the song, staring at her as she moved her feet subconsciously at the tune while sewing. Sharat stopped and looked at his watch. “Okay, I need to head home.” He made the children beg for some more as he smiled.
“Next time.” He got up and looked across the courtyard beyond the dispersing children at Kalyani, still working diligently as she hummed.
“You can sing.” His words made her look up at him consciously.
“No,… I was just…”
“You can teach the children.” His enthusiastic words made her glare at him.
“No, I can’t. I am a widow, and I should not…” She got up to pick up the clothes in a hurry and grabbed the sewing box that one of the teachers lent her. Sharat stopped her in her tracks.
“But you like it. I saw you…” He barely saw Kalyani’s smile reflected in her eyes, like it did when she hummed.
“It doesn’t mean I should let go of all my piety and indulge.” Kalyani held the clothes close to her bosom. “I have broken enough rules already.” She looked away “I don’t wish to do more…” Sharat’s jaws tightened at her words. “I have no right to be happy.”
“I thought your singing was better than mine, and it can help the children. That is all.” He spoke clearly. “But if you don’t want to, it is your freedom of choice, and we respect it here.” He walked away before she could. He was about to get on his cycle when Mohini came to him with a smile.
“Didi is resistant but not stubborn enough not to change.” He stopped unchaining the cycle as he eyed her.
“Did I ask you?” He rebuked.
“No, but… She was asking me where I learnt to dance. How I feel when I dance. She said she feels the same singing…” She stopped as Sharat looked uninterested.
“You cannot help those who don’t help themselves, Mohini. She chooses to be unhappy forcibly.” He cycled away as Mohini stared at him, leaving.
Abhaya had seen Sharat walk into the house rather quietly. The others were in their rooms after dinner, and she was wandering around the kitchen, talking with the cook while contemplating whether to go to the room or not. She saw him walk up the stairs as she picked up a bowl of Payesh she had made. The knock on his door made Sharat eye the clock. He hid the list of things he had penned down at the Mission to take back the next time, in his drawer, and opened the door. He was a little startled to see Abhaya there as she stretched out her hand, and he saw the bowl.
“Have they been making you cook today itself?” He glared at her and took the bowl. Abhaya did not hesitate to invite herself into his room and look around. His room was worse than Swadhin’s. The shelves were empty, and books were heaped on the bed.
“Does nobody clean your room, Naw Da?”
“Do you have to sound like my mother now, Abhaya?”
“No. I am here to know why you are upset with me. What did I do?” Sharat did not expect her to be so direct. He took a morsel and nodded.
“This is good, you cook well. Ma must be happy.”
“I am asking you something, Naw Da.” She frowned. “Then you told him all that about the marriage.” Her tone was accusing.
“He told you that already?” He raised his eyebrows “What is wrong with him?”
“I am here to tell you I intend to stay married, whatever the reasons might have been. I have no intention of exposing anyone here because he helped me, and I am grateful for that. All I want is to find Didi.” Sharat’s hand stopped at the morsel.
“Didi?” He looked clueless. “Who is Didi? Your family…”
“No matter what you say, we believe she is out there somewhere, and I will find her,” Abhaya said in a hurry. “ And you should get used to having me around.” Sharat smiled, amused. “Do you now expect me to call you Boudi as well?” Abhaya seemed unfazed by his taunt. “Whatever you wish.” She turned to leave as Sharat called out to her.
“Wait…” He held out the bowl “Take this. And don’t spend all your time trying to be a good daughter-in-law. You are too young for that.”
“I will study.” Abhaya had no idea why she told him that, but she felt she needed to at least tell someone. Sharat could see her eyes sparkle at the prospect.
“Very well.” Sharat nodded. “That husband of yours was once a worthless student of mine. So come by anytime you want lessons.” He made her nod.
Abhaya walked into the room, almost forcing herself to be calm when she saw Swadhin locking his trunk. He looked up at her from the floor like he was caught stealing. Abhaya shook her head, pressing her lips together.
“When is your train?”
“Early at dawn.” He scratched his head. “I will leave around five.”
“What will you eat on the journey?” Her words made him contemplate.
“I usually have Kochuri at the station and buy some biscuits.”
“And at the Mess?” She asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Anything edible.” He shook his head. “There is barely time to eat.”
“And when will you get your glasses?” She asked with a hint of guilt. Swadhin smiled.
“By next weekend, I will get it done by someone in the city.” He reassured her. Abhaya nodded silently. The mist of awkwardness in the room seemed to have thinned a bit.
“What does that do?” She pointed at the stethoscope on the bedside table. She had seen doctors point them at people and listen. She had no idea what they were listening to. Swadhin got up to grab it. “You can hear people’s lungs and heart with this.”
“Hear the lungs?” Abhaya’s eyebrows were raised, surprised. “What does it say?” Swadhin laughed. Abhaya narrowed her eyes at him. “You said you hear…”
“Here.” He promptly placed the earpieces on her ears and held the bell on his lungs. “Do you hear that?” Abhaya’s mouth opened, and her eyes widened. She nodded. “That is where we are breathing. The hearing differs if you say… You have a cough.” He coughed. “See?” She nodded. He hovered the bell to his diaphragm. “Do you hear differently?” She nodded again. “Every place has a normal sound and abnormal ones.”
“What happens to dead people?” She asked.
“You hear no movement, of course.” Swadhin shrugged. He handed the bell to her. “Here, try it yourself.” He expected her to place the bell on her chest. Instead, she put it back on him and leaned in to listen. Swadhin could suddenly smell her hair. He was conscious of it and tried to move his head away from her leaning forehead. Her hand stopped at his heart as she gasped.
“It is beating very fast.” She gasped. “I had no idea our Wridpindo is this fast.” He eyed her with a faint smile as he nodded. It is usually fast when under unusual stimuli.
“This is so interesting, Swadhin Da.” She looked up with wide eyes, and suddenly her smile faded. A realisation crept in as she took the earpieces off and moved back to the edge of the bed, looking away. Swadhin cleared his throat.
“Umm… I should set the alarm.” He looked at the clock and shook his head. “Oh, it is already so late, maybe I will not sleep at all and do some reading,” he said awkwardly, moving away to the table. “You can make your bed.”
“Are you avoiding sleep?” She asked. “I can sleep on the floor if you…”
“No, No… “ Swadhin shook his head. “It is not that… I…” he looked at the clock again. “I have only an hour and a few minutes to wake up, so…”
“We can sit and talk.” Abhaya offered. Swadhin was surprised. “You need to rest. A lot has been happening over the past two days.”
“I can rest tomorrow,” Abhaya reassured him. Swadhin eyed her.
“Can I say something without trying to offend you?” He watched her nod.
“You seem to have gotten used to your new roles much more easily than anticipated. I… honestly find it awkward…” Abhaya sighed.
“I was prepared to be a daughter-in-law since I was nine.” He looked up at her words. “That was all I heard all day. Cook like this, clean like that. The last few weeks have been turbulent. I have had no will to live. Anything, even a bit of normal, is so precious to me now.” Her eyes were teary. “It is true that I came here with a lot of scepticism and contempt. I have not hidden it.” He nodded. “But when Noni Kakima hugged me… I felt so warm in her genuine concern…She sat me down and asked me how I was… I felt at home… like I could be someone she wants me to be…” A teardrop trickled down her cheek. “I can trust nobody in this world, but I trust you to find my Didi for me.” He watched her sniff. “You saved me, and I will never forget that. I have my grudges against your father. I know I do. But I am not someone to harm a family over a man.” Her voice made Swadhin furrow his brows. “But I am grateful for what I have. I am not a woman who would defy her religion or treat this marriage like anything less than it is. You married me in front of the Lord. It would be a sin for me if I didn’t honour that. I will not dishonour the faith of my ancestors. I feel at home because of Kakima…”
“Maa.” Swadhin corrected as he wiped away the teardrop hanging from the edge of her chin. Abhaya did not shudder at his familiar touch, nor did Swadhin linger. Abhaya nodded. “Now you can trust me that my efforts are genuine, or you are free to be suspicious like Naw Da is.” Swadhin shook his head. “We will find our path.” He promised.
When Abhaya watched the motor car leave at dawn from her window, she could sense him turning back to catch a glimpse of her at the window. Then she heaved a sigh of relief, turned around and bunned her hair up. She needed to take a bath. Then she needed to search the room. Swadhin trusted her. She needed it to manoeuvre her way into the house and the lives of these people to gather evidence against The Leader. She could not make mistakes by hurrying. Revenge needed its own sweet time.
Words and Explanation:
Khatiya: A bed with four stands made of bamboo, and a criss-cross weave of coconut ropes to place a mattress on, commonly used in rural India.
Mamabari: House of Maternal Uncle or Mama
Sankha-Pola: Red bangles (Pola) and white bangles (Sankha) worn by married women (mostly Hindu) in many cultures in eastern India, most popularly among Bengalis (ethnicity)
Karar Oi Louho Kopat: A song written by revolutionary poet Kazi Nazrul Islam in the year 1922 as a mark of protest against the Raj in support of Chittaranjan Das, who was imprisoned.
