Bondita woke up to the alarm clock ringing as she struggled to get her hand out of the quilt wrapped around her. She sat inside the mosquito net, rubbing her eyes and staring at the clock, trying to remember why she had set the alarm at 3.45 AM. Then her eyes shone in delight. It was Mahalaya. She remembered that during her days in Dehra, she had educated her roommate on the tradition of starting pujo with the voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra echoing through the air. She was uninterested, and Bondita had borrowed her headphones to hear the program and deeply missed home. She remembered that as a child, while her father was still alive, he would gently wake her up, and take her on his lap to the huge Banyan tree near the Panchayat where people gathered near the Pradhan’s radio, putting flower garlands and lamps around it and folding their hands as they heard Mahishashur Mardini killing the Asura. When she arrived in Kolkata to get her law degree, she thought things would be different. But every year, her roommates would leave early for home, and although she received a letter from Jyatha Moshai, she never felt like going to Chandannagar. Instead, she spent the five days roaming around Kolkata, pandal-hopping with local friends and telling Kalindi all about the theme pujas in their once-a-week phone calls. This year, as she changed into a Kurti and walked out to find Kalindi on the chair while Batuk in his pyjamas and t-shirt tuned the radio to the FM station, she finally felt like she was home. During her early days in Chandannagar, Bondita would reluctantly hover around the servant quarters to hear the same until Aniruddha noticed her, and soon Jyatha Moshai gave her the radio.
As she sat down to hear the program, she heard Kalindi tell Batuk to come home the next day for Payesh.
“Why, what’s tomorrow?” He asked as Bondita shook her head at Kalindi.
“Do we need an occasion for Payesh?” She asked as Batuk smiled sheepishly. Since her parents' passing, Bondita had not felt like celebrating her birthday. Kalindi insisted on making Payesh. Back in the village, she used to come from a bath and take her uncle and aunt’s blessings reluctantly. In Chandannagar, Trilochon would give her cash when she touched his feet. Batuk never remembered, Som Dada probably didn’t know, and Binoy did not care. Aniruddha, however, ever since he knew her birthday by Kalindi’s slip of the tongue, brought home a cake like he did for Batuk. Bondita loved savouring cakes. It was a similarity she had with Aniruddha. All birthday celebrations in the Roy Chowdhury house meant she would wait for the cake. She would also be mildly disappointed if Aniruddha fed anyone else the first piece of cake, especially Batuk. Bondita smiled at the memories. She was naive. It had been a decade since he had last wished her on her birthday. He probably did not remember either.
Aniruddha turned the radio on in the quiet house as he flipped through the resumes from the new applicants. He yawned, sleep-deprived, and his hand stopped at Bondita’s resume. He opened it with a proud smile and went through her achievements. His eyes were paining from lack of sleep, and he inferred that he could take a walk by the Strand to be fresh for work on the holiday. He removed his glasses, held the throbbing tips of his eyes with his fingertips for a while, then got up.
Som and Trilochon had already left for Ghat for Tarpan when Thakuma suddenly remembered that she had Somnath’s new Panjabi that he had left with her for alteration.
“Bondita, be quick and take this to the Ghat.” She insisted. Bondita frowned; they were on the last part of Mahishashur Mardini, and it was a beautiful dawn breaking into the Agomoni song.
She eyed Batuk, who looked reluctant, sighed and took the packet. She walked out of the house as a sudden chilly air hit her face. She rubbed her arms and smiled, staring up at the blue sky, the sunrise and birds chirping. She missed this in Kolkata. She stopped herself from the temptation of walking barefoot on the grass and made her way to the crowded ghat. It was easy to spot Trilochon Roy Chowdhury with the political party people hovering around him at the Ghat. He was no less than a celebrity. She waved at Som Dada, who took the packet and thanked her. It was then that Trilochon Babu spotted her and called her proudly to introduce her to a few people. The current counsellor, a senior party member and his son, a few of the younger men who worked for him. She smiled politely and excused herself. Then, she contemplated taking a stroll on the Strand before going back to watch the eyes being drawn on Maa Durga.
The promenade along the river at the Strand was crowdier than usual, the yellow French colonial buildings brightening in the light of dawn. Aniruddha had forgotten that it was the only day of the year when the entire state was probably awake at 4 AM. He made his way to the emptier side of the road, along the Museum and Institute, when he heard the bells of the Church ringing and looked up at the blue sky with cottony clouds. He was a little absent-minded when someone stopped before him, making him stumble to a stop. Bondita narrowed her eyes at him.
“What are you doing here?” She asked.
“Taking a stroll, like you.” He raised his brows.
“I was not… I came to give Som Dada his Panjabi.” She shrugged. “Have you not slept?” She eyed the bags under his tired eyes.
“Not enough.” He shrugged with half a smile. “I need some tea or coffee to keep me awake; the Strand is too crowded.” Bondita smiled. He always hated the crowd.
“Come along, I will make coffee.” He stopped as she walked past him and turned around. “Trust me, I make good coffee.”
“I can just go home and wait for Koeli.” He said reluctantly. He eyed the watch. Koeli won’t be coming to work for another hour.
“She is not coming this soon. So, who will make the coffee?” She seemed to read his mind. “Can you?”
“I can try. It's easy.” He shrugged. Bondita eyed him and murmured something about his stubbornness. Aniruddha turned around to head home, and she walked by him in relative silence. When he was about to go upstairs, he saw her entering the kitchen.
He was almost dozing off, sitting on the chair, when the aroma of coffee filled the room.
“There you go.” She placed the cup down as he smiled. “You?” he asked, eyeing the single cup.
“I don’t like coffee.” She shook her head. “I thought you knew.” There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, which she quickly hid with a chuckle. “It's been so many years…” He nodded, taking a sip of the coffee and narrowed his brows.
“Have you made coffee for me before?” His question startled her. Bondita looked away awkwardly and shook her head before leaving abruptly.
“You are too young for the kitchen, Didimoni.” Koeli sounded almost scared as Bondita ignored her words. She was going to make tea for Jyatha Moshai. “If he sees you here, he will scold me. And if you get hurt, I will lose my job.”
“Oho, Koeli Didi.” Bondita placed her finger on her lips. “Hush.”
“One cup… two cups… three…”
“Just two, for the Maliks.” Koeli interrupted.
“What about Choto Malik?” She asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“He has coffee…” Koeli pointed at the pot.
“But I don’t know how to make it…” Bondita had learnt to make tea from Thamma the previous week. But she was adamant.
“Koeli Didi, tell me how to make it and I will.” Koeli gave in. But when it came to serving, Bondita was at Jyatha Moshai’s doorstep, basking in his praises. But she felt shy about taking the coffee to Aniruddha. Perhaps a little scared of being scolded, too, he would not like her focusing on the kitchen instead of learning a new art or a language like Batuk did during the holidays. Koeli took it for him and reported to her that he loved it. She had made it taste stronger than Koeli usually did, and he liked that. Koeli did not tell him who made it, just as Bondita had instructed, but it prompted her to make coffee for him every day, secretly.
Bondita bathed and changed into the red saree before approaching the Roy Chowdhury home again. Trilochon suggested that while the eyes were drawn on the idols, she and Batuk could help with the Alpona in the courtyard. After all, it's been years since they had drawn the Alpona. Ever since both of them left, it was Koeli who did it. Bondita found herself in the courtyard, sitting in the middle, not caring about her saree getting dirty, instructing Batuk, now in a Panjabi, about the design. Batuk was leafing through a book of Alpona sketches at her suggestion. Koeli brought out the rice mix, some clothes to use as brushes and colours to add with painting brushes.
“If you need help…” Bondita refused. Batuk chose two designs.
“We can make these…” he pointed out, “Not very elaborate.”
“Durga Puja comes once a year; it should be elaborate.” Bondita shook her head.
“And who will put in fresh coats every day on something elaborate? You?” Batuk frowned as she shrugged. She was home after a long time during Durga Puja and planned to enjoy it.
Aniruddha felt like a zombie in his sleepiness. The coffee didn’t help, so he decided to put aside the work and take a nap. He yawned as he approached the corridor next to the balcony looking over the Thakur Dalan, where he heard laughter.
“Batuk, your owl looks like a rat.” Bondita chuckled.
“And your conch shell looks like…” Batuk pointed, confused.
“A conch shell.” She laughed again. Aniruddha arrived on the balcony and leaned over to check the eyes being drawn on the other idols while Ma Durga waited for hers. Koeli was blowing the conch shell, Bihari was playing the Kashor Ghanta, and Kalindi sat on the bench on the other end, contributing with Ululation. He remembered that during his childhood, while his mother was around, the house used to be filled with guests since Mahalaya, and everyone was assigned chores. His extended family and cousins would come, and they would spend days skipping stones in the pond, playing hide and seek in and around the premises. He had drawn so many Alponas around the house, the footprints of goddesses on the stairs with his mother. His eyes travelled to Bondita, measuring with her fingers if the two feet she drew on the Alpona were identical. Aniruddha suddenly noticed the red saree. He smiled, amused, remembering how she refused to wear the saree while Mini liked hers. She did not like his choice of a saree. Perhaps it looked too old for a teenager. He was very inexperienced about these things. It was Baba who had insisted he bring Mini a saree from Kolkata after she gifted them Panjabis. While he was in the shop, he thought the saree would look nice on Bondita, too. He was not wrong, he observed.
Bondita suddenly felt like she was being watched. A strange sense of awareness hit her as she looked around the courtyard. The artist had now moved to Ma Durga, and she folded her hands almost involuntarily, looking around at the people who were busy admiring Maa Durga. She placed her hand on her forehead and prayed with her eyes closed.
Aniruddha straightened himself, suddenly remembering his mother used to do the same. He briefly touched his hand to his forehead and back to his chest before going to the room and shutting his door.
“Is Aniruddha unwell?” Bondita had walked to Trilochon’s room to inform him that the Alpona was done when she overheard him ask Som Dada, who shrugged. “He doesn’t usually sleep at this time of the day.” Bondita arrived to inform him of her task, and he praised her. She was about to take her leave.
“Maa, do me a favour and check on Aniruddha once. He must be sick.” Trilochon sounded worried.
“He can also be sleep-deprived, " she suggested, and Somnath nodded. “He works too much.”
“He has taken after his father. I don’t understand why he can’t come home for Pujo.” Trilochon rebuked. “The boy is exactly like him; he doesn’t even say if he is sick.”
Bondita reluctantly found herself on his doorstep at Trilochon’s words. She knocked and got no answers, but found the door open. She anticipated him to be asleep, for the room was dark. Instead, he asked who it was.
“It's me. Jyatha Moshai wants me to check if you are fine.”
“Oh, I am.” Aniruddha lit the bedside lamp in the dark room to see her silhouette. He sat up on the bed and shook his head. “He worries too much as he is getting older.”
“He thinks you look sick.” She reminded him gently as she stepped across the threshold into the room.
“He says that every day since I kept the stubble.” He rubbed his hand on his chin, unmindfully.
“Then don’t keep it.” He suddenly looked amused at Bondita, who stared at him, confused.
“You seem to finally like the saree.” Bondita was surprised that he remembered.
“I did not have something new, so…” She looked away. Aniruddha nodded as he stood up, straightening his wrinkled Panjabi, and his eyes fell on her face. “There is something on your…” He pointed as Bondita touched her face, confused. “There.” He removed a stain of paint from her nose. Bondita suddenly felt withdrawn as she stepped back from his touch in reflex. A shiver ran down her spine as she realised she had not forgotten it for all these years. Aniruddha observed the awkwardness in her demeanour and realised she was not a child anymore. He murmured apologetically, “You could not understand where…” She nodded and turned to leave.
“Bondita.” She stopped at the threshold as he smiled. “You look beautiful in the saree, just like you did when you wore a saree for the first time.” The decent thing to do for Bondita was to thank him, but she did not. Instead, she nodded her head, as her ears turned warm, and after a few measured steps out of the room with her heart leaping in her chest, she ran back home, blushing profusely. Aniruddha looked confused at her leaving as he shook his head and murmured, “She is still the child who likes compliments.”
Bondita touched Thamma’s feet early in the morning to receive a kiss on her forehead and a blessing along with Payesh. “Go and touch Jyatha Moshai’s feet before you have it.” She reminded Bondita, who smiled. Bondita stared at the clock and figured she would go once Aniruddha had left.
She was awake all night, cursing herself for going down the same road with him and overthinking about getting hurt again. She needed to avoid him for a few days. She knew he treated her like he treated Batuk; it bothered her. She was not a child anymore, and she felt guilty about having feelings she had hidden from him. It was as though she was disrespecting him as a mentor. Bondita had no idea why she felt like she was cheating on the beautiful relationship that existed, with emotions beyond her control. She needed to restrain herself before he suspected anything and she lost her job offer or, worse, her connection to the Roy Chowdhury house, the way Saudamini did. She was now an adult responsible for her actions.
Bondita took her time around the house, doing chores, before the clock struck ten, and she found it safe to go. She had touched Trilochon’s feet and received some money from him as a blessing when Koeli walked in to tell her that Choto Malik had summoned her to his room. Bondita’s brows furrowed. Had he not gone to work? Trilochon seemed to read her mind as he said, “I scolded him into staying home and taking rest before he falls sick.” Bondita’s heart skipped a beat. She inhaled, reminding herself how to behave as she reached his doorstep. Aniruddha was standing by the desk, with his back to her, when he heard the new anklets she had received as a Durga Puja gift from Trilochon.
“There you are.” He said without turning back. “Here, happy birthday.” Bondita looked a little shocked at the box as she stepped forward to touch his feet. He smiled, patting her head a little, gesturing at her to open the box. It was a mobile phone. She raised her eyebrows at him as he smiled.
“Don’t worry, I am giving you this because we need it for work. I have put in the landline numbers of our home and office as well as the mobile numbers of Som, Batuk and me.” He showed his contact list, “I saved yours.”
“But this is … expensive…” Bondita shook her head. “If you needed one for work, I could have…”
“Ah, Bondita! You are not THAT grown up to think all this.” He scolded. “Besides, you have eight years of gifts pending, huh?” He pushed the phone into her hand. Bondita was about to protest when Batuk walked in with urgency and a wide smile on his face.
“Why did you bring cake, Dadabhai?” he asked gleefully.
“It's her birthday.” Aniruddha pointed out. Batuk bit his tongue and wished a still-dazed Bondita. “You know he stopped bringing cakes since you left. Because you love it.” Batuk stopped as Aniruddha chimed in.
“Because Cakes are for kids, like you two.” He corrected Batuk, “ Now that both of you are here, let's cut it.”
“But I was always here.” Batuk’s words fell on deaf ears as Aniruddha walked out of the room, and Batuk insisted that Bondita follow.
She walked into the living room to find everyone there. Kalindi and Trilochon were sitting on the couch, and Som was arranging the candles “25” on the cake. Bondita took the knife from Batuk, who insisted she cut a small piece first for the sake of it.
“Feed Thamma first.” Som insisted.
“No, feed Aniruddha Babu. He got you the cake.” She insisted. Bondita took a bite of her cake and said, “It's my birthday; I should eat first.” Everyone laughed, amused as Aniruddha walked up to take the knife, cut a piece and held it near her. She took a small bite, pushing it back to him as he ate it and licked his fingers.
“My turn.” Batuk jumped impatiently. “I will cut a piece myself.”
“So that others get nothing?” Som looked at him scornfully as everyone laughed. “Bihari Kaka, please cut the pieces.” Batuk sulked.
Bondita eyed Aniruddha, licking the chocolate cream from his fingers, as Som asked, “Dadabhai, did you not stop having cakes? I thought you did not like them anymore.”
“I like cakes; it doesn’t mean I should have them.” He took another piece and eyed Bondita, who observed as he savoured it.
Bondita yawned as the clock struck eleven. She had just started studying with Aniruddha, and that meant the hours were odd when he would be free. Especially on weekdays.
“Can I go home now?” She sulked as he looked up from the copy. “Not before you finish the compound interest sums.” He said sternly.
“Ashur ekta!” She murmured. Aniruddha frowned as his hand stopped working.
“What did you say?” He narrowed his brows. Bondita gulped.
“Fine, if you do the sums, you get a treat,” he suggested. He always used to make Batuk study with treats.
“What treats?” She questioned.
“You will find out after the sums.” He suggested.
“No.” She pushed away the copy and sulked. “First, you tell me if it is worth the sums.” Aniruddha was surprised at her bargaining. While she struggled with the sums, he brought out the cake from the fridge and placed it between them. It was a half-eaten one from Somnath’s birthday. “You finish the sums, and we eat this.”
“All of it?” Her eyes shone.
“All of it.” Aniruddha smiled. “Just don’t tell Batuk.” Bondita giggled. After lessons, they brought out forks and shared the cake while Bondita talked about school, and Aniruddha shared some colleagues’ experiences with Ghosts in the High Court library.
Bondita walked into Aniruddha’s study; he was typing something on the computer, thinking by running the edges of his fingers on his stubbled chin as she placed a piece of cake in front of him. He eyed it as she smiled.
“Leftovers.”
“You can eat it, take it home?” He suggested.
“I am not the one having cake after a decade.” Bondita bit her lips and looked away. She did not want to think that he quit having cakes for her, but a part of her knew it was true. He stopped typing and eyed her.
“What could I do? My cake-eating partner abandoned me.” She looked up at his words.
“Is the word not a little harsh?” She raised her brows and asked, “After all, you wanted me to leave.”
“I wanted you to study.” Aniruddha shook his head. “I never told you to abandon our friendship.” She eyed him briefly and cleared her throat “I did not…”
“You made new friends, did you not?” She nodded as he smiled, “And you obviously did not need an old man to be your friend anymore.” Bondita looked up at his words.
“You are not that old…” She made him shake his head and chuckle, “That is what you got from that?” he stared at her in silence “Not that I had no other friends here except you here?” Bondita skipped a heartbeat. She murmured an excuse to go home, trying to shake away the sudden guilt that hit her.
She realised she had never seen things from his perspective. He had left his friends behind in London, and he had colleagues in Kolkata, but he did not have any friends here. Because of Trilochon’s political influence, even his school friends tiptoed around the Roy Chowdhury men with their opinions. Aniruddha tried hard to separate himself and make an identity based on his opinions and beliefs, but nobody in Chandannagar saw him apart from Trilochon and his political ideology. Bondita felt guilty about her impulsive decision to leave. That, too, because she could never explain her reasons to him.
“Make me a cup of coffee before you leave.” He made her stop briefly and glance over her shoulder at him, holding his forehead briefly as he spoke. She nodded before walking to the kitchen.
By the time Bondita made the coffee, he was in his room. Bondita placed the cup on the table and eyed the notebooks on the desk.
“Do you still write poetry?” She asked. Aniruddha smiled sheepishly.
“You don’t forget anything, do you?” He shook his head. Bondita folded her arms to her chest and smiled. “You said I would understand them when I grow up. So…” Bondita extended her palm to him as Aniruddha narrowed his eyes. He looked to be in two minds when she smiled. “Come on, it's my birthday…”
“It is.” He nodded. “Don’t show anyone…”
“Hyan Babah Hyan.” Bondita shook her head. “I remember.”
Aniruddha took out his old blue notebook and placed it on her empty palm.
“Read the first volume first. This is amateur work,” he smiled sheepishly. “And be honest.” She nodded. She was not much into poetry to criticise him. “How many volumes are there?”
“Three.” He said awkwardly. Bondita took the notebook and left. Aniruddha walked up to his window at bedtime and found her in her room. She was at the half-visible desk, reading his work. Could she not wait? Aniruddha suddenly felt vulnerable. His deepest thoughts were in those pages that he now shared with her. But he trusted her with his vulnerability. Perhaps more than he ever could trust anyone else with it.
