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“Don’t.” She almost snapped. “ Why are you showing her false sympathy?” Abhaya frowned at Mejdibhai’s words.
“Leave her alone, Mejo. It’s not really her fault, is it?” Protima warned. “It's our ill fate.” Nonibala Debi stared at the ceiling as if she were trying to recollect what was going on. Her eyes fell on Abhaya, who stood at her bedside, and she burst into uncontrollable sobs once again.
“I am so sorry, Choto Bouma. I am so sorry. Your… your… mother… Hai Ram… your innocent mother…” Nonibala Debi lamented. Abhaya’s eyes were teary, but she could not move from her place. She felt helpless. “ I never imagined… I could never…” Nonibala Debi sobbed as Bimala offered her a glass of water; she pushed away.
“Go away, Abhaya,” Protima said harshly. “You are making her sicker.”
Abhaya turned to leave. She could suddenly feel the coldness from everyone around her, and it suffocated her. She looked at Nonibala Debi’s pale face one last time.
“I will go away, Bordi.” She sobbed. “But Maa should know she should not feel guilty.” Abhaya looked up at the brothers at the door. Swadhin was not there. Her heart ached. She turned towards the bed, ignoring the disapproving glances. Sharat tried to stop her. “Abhaya, come with me.”
“Maa should be proud of what Baba Moshai has done all these years, selflessly.” Sharat stopped with furrowed brows as Abhaya sobbed. Nonibala Debi stared at her in disbelief. “Yes, my family suffered some dire consequences.” Abhaya wiped away her tears as they refused to stop, “But Didi says it’s Karma. My father’s ill Karma, not Baba Moshai’s. All he did was be brave enough to raise his voice against atrocities.”
“Your Didi?” Nonibala Debi sat up at Abhaya’s words. “Kalyani is alive? How?”
“I don’t understand…” Nonibala Debi looked agitated. “Sharat, what does she mean?”
“Calm down, Maa. I will explain everything to you. I should. Before I leave. You deserve the truth.” Sharat walked up to Nonibala Debi’s bedside.
Abhaya walked away from her mother-in-law’s bedroom towards her own to find Swadhin busy packing trunks. He stopped as he sensed her at the door and did not look up at her while adjusting his glasses. Instead, he took the set of keys from his desk and opened the drawer he had emptied for her. From it, carefully, he took out her box of evidence. Abhaya frowned slightly as she stared at him. Swadhin placed the box on the desk, tracing the edges of the intricate design with his fingertips and smiled faintly.
“There you go, you should take this to the police.” Abhaya’s lips parted in surprise.
“You knew about the box?” Her voice of disbelief made him look up at her face briefly before he appeared busy with his things. “Of course I did. I was the one to tell Baba you were gathering evidence against him.”
“What did he say?” Abhaya asked curiously.
“He said you have the right to.” Swadhin sighed heavily. “Naw Da felt otherwise, so he removed them.”
“Why did you not ask me about it?” Abhaya narrowed her brows. Swadhin shook his head. “And dig up things to take away your peace of mind? Even if it was all in pretence, I liked coming back home because you were here. I liked to see you feel at home with Boudidis and Maa.” Abhaya’s throat went dry as she watched him pack his trunks.
“Was it all in pretence?” She managed to ask as she held on to the side of the four-poster bed as if she had no strength to stand there on her own. Swadhin did not answer her as he started packing his books. “ I will drop you at the police station and leave for the boats. Tell the police that, in exchange for being an official witness, you will need a place to stay. Once you settle, mail me your address.” He scribbled down an address on a piece of paper. “This is Shejda’s address in Calcutta. Wherever I might be, he will know.” Swadhin slipped the piece of paper towards Abhaya and placed the ink pen over it. Then he started wrapping his pens. “I will send you money every month. It will help you until you find something better.”
“Where will I go?” Abhaya’s voice trembled.
“Somewhere away from this house and its people.” Swadhin’s voice was harsh. “They will not be kind after your police statement.”
“What about you?” She asked.
“I promised Kalyani Didi that I would take Naw Da to Calcutta. I will leave as soon as they are united.”
“And go where?” Abhaya asked, scared. Swadhin shrugged.
“I don’t trust you enough to tell you.” Abhaya felt like she could not breathe. Swadhin took a letter out of his pocket and placed it on the table. “And before you take Meera’s name in the list of associates, read this letter. It arrived in the mail today.” Curious, Abhaya stepped forward to pick up the letter. Swadhin moved away towards the bed. He knelt and pulled out a trunk of books. He opened the dictionary, and Abhaya saw the gun she had seen once. Checking its lock, he tossed the dictionary into his belongings. Abhaya read the letter.
“Dear Swadhin,
I know it might feel strange hearing from me like this after a long time. It’s been a while since we said our goodbyes. I hope Abhaya is not keeping you on your toes. But if she is, you deserve it. At first, I was disappointed you chose to marry her. I could not understand why you would take so much trouble for her. She was a threat to us all. But today I understand you better. Perhaps you were right when you once told me I would judge people less when I had someone to think of emotionally. It might come as a surprise to you that I left Pishima’s house in Chattagram. It was not an abrupt decision. I never felt welcome after I left once. I want to thank you for helping Kabir find me. Heaven knows how grateful I am to you for helping him reach out to me. God knows what would have happened if he had not. I would have never found my path. I would have never fallen in love. Kabir had given me everything that every man in my life had failed to give me. Love, care and respect. You might find that odd coming from me. You might wonder why I am sharing this with you. But by the time this letter reaches you, Kabir will be gone. I will leave the house we called home with a bag full of memories and perhaps make my way to Medinipur. (I am not sure yet, given how turbulent the area has been recently) The Leader has advised me to join the Congress there. I have decided to take a break from armed protests and violence. Well, I have no option. I found out today, almost two weeks after Kabir left, promising that he would never be back, that I am expecting his child. The thought of bringing his blood into the world has overwhelmed me. I feel protective of the child already, even though he has yet to see the light of day. I want to lead a peaceful (or rather safe) life until he grows up enough to know and understand who his father was. You once told me about a friend who helped women whose husbands abandoned them. While it is not the same thing in my case, I feel such an institution will be a perfect disguise for me to safely bring my child into this world. I hope it is a boy, and I hope he reflects his father's ideas. I know you won’t stay in Barishal any longer because the leader has asked us to split up. But I still wanted to write to you with this news because I realised that in my turbulent life, I made no true friends, except you. Yet if you ask me, I never regretted any of it. Whatever life throws at us is never easy. From losing my parents to losing Kabir. I realised all I can do is choose to be brave. The next time you see Meera, you will perhaps see someone who is a mother and a widow. But remember the woman who chose to be a little spark in the fire of freedom. Wishing you and Abhaya the best for your life together. Bhalo Theko. Meera.”
Abhaya’s tears bloated the letters in ink as she put the letter away. Swadhin was aware of her sobs, but he had no intention of consoling her or making himself weak. He had no intention of showing her how, with every passing minute, his heart was shattering at her presence.
“Do you have a matchbox?” Abhaya asked. Swadhin looked up with questioning eyes. “It is safer to burn the letter.” She added. Swadhin was grateful that she sympathised with Meera. He searched his pockets for the matchbox and handed it to her. Abhaya took the letter and brought a bin to light the fire in. She put the letter in the bin and lit the matchstick. She tossed it into the bin. The room was filled with the smell of smoke. Abhaya walked up to the box and took it. Swadhin watched her as she opened the box and poured its contents into the fire. Swadhin’s heart skipped a beat as Abhaya lit another matchstick and poured some oil from the lamp she had lit at the feet of a picture of Maa Kali in one corner of the room. Didi had gifted her the picture. Abhaya watched the documents burn as Swadhin lowered his eyes to the bin with a slight cough.
“Now that that’s done and I have nowhere to go…” Abhaya looked up at Swadhin as the smoke and fire burned in the bin between them. “Will you take me with you?” Swadhin’s glasses blurred his vision a little in the smoke.
“Are you sure of what you have done?” Swadhin asked calmly, although his heart raced. Abhaya walked up to him with tears in her eyes.
“It is fine if you don’t accept me.” She lowered her gaze, making him stare at her. “Naw Da said once that you can never love me.”
“Oh, he is a fool.” Swadhin shook his head as he startled Abhaya with an embrace. “He knows not what he says.” Abhaya’s entire being felt the radiating warmth of Swadhin’s embrace as she closed her eyes and hugged him back. Tears streamed down her cheeks and soaked Swadhin’s Panjabi as Abhaya could feel him sob softly.
“You should pack your bags.” He said softly, smiling at her, as Abhaya blushed. “We should say our goodbyes.” He made her nod. “Will you be fine if we are poor?”
“I will be fine, anywhere you take me,” Abhaya reassured him.
“I want to continue the work I started here. Treat the men and women who fight for the freedom of our nation for free.” Abhaya nodded at his words. “I will help you in any way I can.”
Marzi came running into the courtyard of the house in the mission in the darkest hour before dawn. He called out for Mohini rather agitatedly.
“What is wrong with you, old man?” Mohini snapped as she opened her door, yawning. “Have you gone mad? Do you not know what time it is?” Marzi smiled at her.
“You are free now, Mohini. Your danger is over. You are free to leave.” She frowned at his words.
“Are you drunk, Marzi?” She shook her head. “You told me there is a Fatwa with my description out in …”
“But Jones dismissed the Fatwa this morning. He said who he was looking for has been found.” Mohini gasped at his words. “He said it was a misunderstanding that he thought you escaped when you just went home.” Mohini frowned at Marzi’s words.
“How? Has he found us here? Is he coming for us?” Mohini could not help but anticipate a meeting again. What if the circumstances were different? What if he hated her? All she wanted to tell him, just once, even if he ordered her to be hanged, was that everything was not a lie. What she felt was never a lie. Marzi laughed.
“Oh, how can he come for us? He is DEAD!” Mohini felt like she could not breathe.
“What? What did you say?” She asked, irked. “Don’t joke…”
“I am not. Here.” Marzi took out the newspaper from the fold of his lungi. “Kabir killed him in Calcutta, where he was looking for someone. He apparently talked of going to Purulia.”
Mohini’s shriek of agony broke through the silent night. Marzi did not know how to react as she fell on the floor. Marzi splashed water on her face as Mohini sobbed inconsolably. “Me…” She murmured, “He was looking for me.”
