Trilochon was surprised by Aniruddha’s urgent call. He knew that the village and surrounding areas did not have telephone lines, and he would have to travel miles to find a PCO booth. What could be so urgent?
“There is a girl…” Made his heart skip a beat. Then the story put his worry to rest. He was proud of Aniruddha’s humanitarian side, which he always worried Binoy and Somnath lacked. “Of course, we need to help her; child marriage is illegal, and we can inform the police…”
“No, I want to take her with me.” Aniruddha’s voice made him frown.
“Take her?” Where?” he sounded alarmed. “Aniruddha, you can’t just pick up someone’s child without their consent and… that’s kidnapping.”
“No, her parents are dead. Her Thakuma wants to come along; she is her legal guardian. I have the legality sorted. I just want you to send the car and arrange for them to stay temporarily…” Aniruddha sounded unsure.
“Don’t worry about that, but… are you sure you want to do this? Villagers don’t forget such things, and you might not be able to go back eve…” Trilochon was in two minds; he wanted to help, but the cost of his image for the election was too dear.
“I know. I just wanted to let you know because I didn’t want to hurt your image and…” Aniruddha spoke like he could read his mind.
“What’s her name? Her Thakuma’s?” Trilochon had a plan of his own. Before his nephew acted, he would order his men to take the woman and child somewhere safe, then call the police headquarters himself. That way, Aniruddha would be safe, and nobody would even know it was him.
“Bondita Das… her Thakuma’s name is Kalindi.” Trilochon was oddly silent as he frowned. “Hello? Jethu?”
“Bring them home, Aniruddha.” His voice seemed distant. “I will take care of everything else.” Aniruddha did not expect Trilochon to agree to this so fast, but he was glad.
Trilochon sat on the aisle chair at midnight, staring out at the open balcony looking over the banks of the Ganges, lost in thought.
He was just fourteen when he last met Kalindi. She begged him to help her out of the mess he had created. He had no idea that his plea to see her by the pond would turn her life upside down. He thought he could convince his father to help her. He thought he was as brave as she was. She always gave him strength and encouragement to speak the truth, no matter what. But when he fumbled, telling his grandfather about the gossip about them in the village and what it had cost Kalindi, his grandfather reassured him that he would handle the mess himself. Little did Trilochon know that he was implying damage control. His father was posted at his job in Chandannagar. They often visited him there. But that night, his father insisted on taking him there for the weekend. Little did Trilochon know that he was being deceived by his family. He was never to return. To them, his friendship was not as expensive as their honour. His promises meant very little in front of the facade of caste, class and reputation they had to keep up. His mother interrogated him about his feelings. He had lied blatantly about not having feelings for her to save her honour and life. He could never explain his situation to Kalindi. He could never tell her how he felt, through his innocence and youth, in trusting the closest people he had, who betrayed him and now his guilt of living with it. He tried to write to her. But all he knew was her father’s name and the village address. His family made sure that his letters never reached her. He assumed she would be married then and have had kids. He was sure he was a long-forgotten past, never forgiven. But Trilochon often wondered how she was doing, where she was at. If he could seek her out once again, and at least ask for forgiveness. He was sure the Kalindi he knew would never believe him after so many years. When he visited the village well into his fifties, he wanted to look for her family. But the moment he entered the village premises, representing his family, legacy and political party again, he felt the chains of society around him. He was still not strong enough to ask around, especially when some of the elders were still alive. Such scandals were barely forgotten in villages.
Trilochon had no voice to protest when his father started looking for brides. Did he even want to get married? He was not sure. The thought of marriage rattled him, but that was everyone’s thought, wasn’t it? The first girl his father approved of came from a business family in Murshidabad, and her groom would inherit the business. But she seemed too young for him. She was younger than Binoy by ten years. So she was chosen for him instead. Trilochon took it as a sign. Especially when he knew deep in his guilty heart that he could not feel for another woman the way he once felt for Kalindi, even when he did not admit it to himself. He had respected and admired her for the woman she was, but could not keep his word to her because he was not strong enough. He had no issue admitting that in his middle age, he loved her but was not brave enough to choose her. Society and prejudice had won over him. His family had stopped persuading him for marriage, especially when the care of his motherless nephews fell on him.
Trilochon was startled by the sound of the grandfather clock in the corridor, which announced it was time for the morning prayer. He had been awake all night. He stared unmindfully at the break of dawn. They should be here soon. Was this his chance at redemption?
