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“The bride is older than the groom.” Aniruddha heard one of the older villagers speak in a judgmental tone. “No wonder the higher castes don’t attend such atrocities.” He eyed the younger man he was talking to, who smiled. Aniruddha was sitting beside them on a bench in the open courtyard of a house where the wedding rituals were taking place. Tirio and Tumdak were playing rhythmically in a corner as some women danced to the tunes surrounding the new bride and groom. The men sat on the other side of the courtyard.
“Forget about the Brahmins, we don’t expect them to come.” The younger man shook his head. “As for traditions, what is wrong if the bride is older?” He smiled sheepishly at the older man.
“What’s wrong? Everything. Master Moshai, you can be educated, but our ancient traditions have reasons. The groom must be older than the bride. It has some reason.” He shook his head. The teacher, in turn, educated the man that it was a perfectly normal Santhali ritual to marry older women, widows and divorced women if the dowry was agreed upon. The old man grumbled about how upper-caste Hindu rituals had more meaning. Aniruddha eyed them.
“Does age really matter that much?” He quipped, “What matters is the mindset. How two people fit in… Right, Aniruddha Babu?” He made Aniruddha nod silently.
“My wife is far more mature than her age. She understands social obligations far more than I do.” The young man beamed. “My mother depends on her more than on me. But I am older than her. So, how does it matter if the opposite happens?”
“Today’s generation.” The older man rebuked. “No regard for anything, shamelessly praising his wife like that in front of elders.” He walked to the other side as the young man laughed. “These old people get offended by everything different from what they believe in.”
“It's how society makes us believe in what is normal.” Aniruddha smiled at the man. “What has been happening for ages, even if wrong, is normalised while something new or different is seen as obscene.”
“But how does it matter what society says or thinks if two people choose to be happy with each other? They aren’t living their lives, right?” The younger man made Aniruddha nod in agreement as he looked a little lost. “Right.” He murmured.
Aniruddha insisted he could go to Sonakhali alone, even when the teacher offered to drop him off at the Ghat. Aniruddha straightened his Panjabi and found an empty boat in the Ghat. The boatman did not wait for more passengers as it was midday, and he started humming a tune as he turned on the motor and the boat headed for the Sonakhali Ghat. Aniruddha sat watching the water splash as he was lost in thought. He had to go back and pack; they would be leaving in the evening. The driver said they would reach home by midnight that way. The summer breeze had just set in, and Aniruddha found himself sweating. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. Would she be back by the time he reached the house? He wondered if her injury was better. He could ask that without offending her, couldn’t he? Aniruddha exhaled. He had hurt her even when he tried hard not to. Worse, something churned in his stomach every time he thought of being truthful to her the way she expected. What would he say? Something out loud that he had trouble accepting and ruined what little he had with her? Why would Bondita want him? She said he was old and stubborn. Aniruddha smiled to himself, melancholically, as he found himself at the gates of the house.
Bondita received the flower garland from the Panchayat rather awkwardly and refused to wear it as people around her clapped.
“We hope you come back.” One of the younger men in the committee spoke. Bondita nodded. She eyed the crowd of villagers who had gathered to see her off at the Ghat as she turned for one last glance at Alamethi. Tapur hugged her as she reminded Tapur of her promise to send money every month to Tupur’s account for them. She eyed the crowd, and she could not find any familiar faces. Bondita sighed. She stepped into the boat as the motor started.
Through the journey back, Bondita wondered if she could bring any change to the place that had not changed in fifteen years. Surely, by the look of things, people would say villages had developed, but development was far from sight when it came to the minds of society. She remembered Jhumri and the thousand others like her who did not come out of fear. She remembered Tapur and many like her who kept waiting for life to happen. Bondita inhaled. She would be wrong if she said she did not see any changes. The girls' school now had more students than she remembered. Women of her generation who were now mothers valued women's education more than their mothers did. People were more aware of law and order because of connectivity, and everyone dreamt of a better future. But the ties of caste, creed and poverty tying them down, forcing them to risk their lives every day for livelihood in the jungle, were too much of a problem to be solved any time soon. Bondita had met the school teachers, who were worried about the ecosystem of the overpopulated islands and adjoining jungles. Bondita wondered how she could help when there was so much to do and so few resources. Bondita did not know why she felt sad and helpless. It could be because she was leaving the place she missed, imagined to be home when it was not, and always dreamt of coming back to a miraculously different world. It led to disappointment. Or maybe because she realised she had nobody to call her own here, no place to call home, even if she convinced herself otherwise. Bondita breathed in. She had not felt at home for most of her life, and it was a feeling she had carried to Chandannagar. A part of her felt like Thamma felt more at home in Chandannagar, and the reason she did not is that she did not allow herself to settle in a place. After all, her experience taught her otherwise.
Bondita wondered who would understand this sudden, overwhelming feeling of sadness that came over her. She found Harun waiting at the Ghat for her as she smiled at him and got on the rickshaw. The house was visible at a distance, and Bondita’s thoughts travelled to her last conversation with Aniruddha. She knew he was afraid to be vulnerable, just like she was. His reasons were different, yet somehow she could relate to the feeling. What she could not understand was his sudden coldness and sudden care that kept her in the loop. She did not like second-guessing people in her life, but with him, she seemed to always be in the dark. Bondita did not like that. She knew she, perhaps, pushed him more than she should into sharing bits and pieces of his life that he kept everyone away from, but she also knew he needed someone to talk to, someone to understand him. Who else if not her? Bondita wondered what he meant by saying he could hurt her. Did he mean hurting her with his actions or his rejection?
The rickshaw honked at the gates as she got down from it and paid Harun handsomely. He refused at first, but she insisted on it, attributing it to his hard work taking her everywhere for the past few days. He took the money and left as Bondita pushed open the gate and found Padma in the courtyard, putting out her wet saree to dry. It meant lunch was waiting to be served.
“I will get fresh…” Bondita smiled faintly before Padma spoke, and she struggled a little with her injury as she dragged her feet upstairs. Aniruddha heard her voice while he packed his belongings and came out in the corridor to find her climbing up the stairs. Eyes met as she approached him, and Bondita waited for him to speak first.
“The driver will come around four. Can you pack before that?” He asked, looking away slightly as she nodded. “And how is your injury?” She stopped as she was about to cross him in the corridor and smiled faintly. “It will heal in a day or two.” She eyed him reassuringly. “I assume you haven’t had lunch?” Aniruddha did not respond as she sighed. “I will change and come downstairs, tell Padma to start serving, we don’t want to be late…”
“Bondita.” Aniruddha made her turn as he looked perplexed. “Is something wrong?” She shook her head, arching her brows as he smiled faintly “You look sad.” Bondita shrugged with a melancholy smile. She walked away as Aniruddha watched her. Lunch was relatively silent as Bondita was in a hurry to pack her belongings. Padma stuffed her bag with a jar of Anchar she had made as a gift. Bondita thanked her.
It was sharp at four that Aniruddha walked out of the room with his trolley, asking Sidhu, who came by to help, to get Bondita’s duffle bag as he watched the driver take them away to where the car stood.
Bondita followed Sidhu out in a black Kurti and jeans, as Padma also accompanied them on foot to where the car stood. Bondita stopped, patting Sidhu’s head with praise, as the driver opened the back door for her. She eyed Aniruddha on the passenger’s side, paying Padma handsomely as she touched his feet. In a reflex, while instructing Bishu to keep the house neat, Aniruddha opened the front passenger side door as Bondita looked away to her side of the window behind the driver. Aniruddha stopped as he eyed her, looking away, straightened his green polo neck t-shirt, and pretended to look for something in the glove compartment as the driver took the wheel. He shut the front door and opened the back one to sit beside her. Bondita did not turn or acknowledge him as her hand gripped the handle of the purse she had kept on the seat that was now between them. Sidhu ran after the car for a while, waving at them as Bondita opened her window, not caring for the dust as she waved back. Hearing Aniruddha sneeze alarmed her as she pulled the window up. Aniruddha removed his spectacles and rubbed them clean with a corner of his t-shirt as he heard her sniff. He looked alarmed at her, as her face was turned away, hidden from his gaze by her long strands of hair, but he could sense that Bondita was overwhelmed. Was it because of him or because they were leaving? Aniruddha only knew that Bondita was sad, and he needed to make her feel better.
Bondita felt the warmth of his hand gently on hers as she eyed the driver through the rearview mirror in a reflex, a wave of jitter running through her being at his sudden gesture. Dusk was setting in as the car drove through the highway, and Aniruddha’s hand clasped hers reassuringly. Bondita breathed in, not moving from her spot. She was too aware to look at him as she felt a rush of warmth in her ears, and her cheeks flushed. It would be wrong to say she could not hear her heartbeat between her breaths. Aniruddha’s thumb gently circled her palm in a soothing gesture as she let out a sigh. She was unsure of what to do, whether to draw her hand away or hold his, over the handbag.
Aniruddha thanked his stars that she did not jolt away or reject his gesture as he eyed her from the corner of his eye. He could see the long, careless hair over her shoulder, the earring peeping through it, and her hand, cold and frozen under his. He circled her palm in a soothing gesture, hoping she would speak or let out her cause of distress like she always did to feel better. Aniruddha’s heart skipped a beat as he felt her hand move a little under his, and he loosened his grip, unsurely, not knowing if he had offended her. It was a strange new feeling he was aware of, to tiptoe around her, to make sure he was not making her uncomfortable. Aniruddha stared at her through the rearview mirror in realisation. It was because, for the first time in his life, he was aware of his attraction to Bondita. He feared being seen or judged for what he felt. It was never the case before. All he knew was that he had missed her while she was gone and appreciated her since she came back into his life.
Love? He had always loved her. First, for her dreams and courage, then for the person she was. She was his student, he her mentor. In his mind, he kept waiting for the teen who was angry with him to come home. But Aniruddha was not ready to see glimpses of a life he had given up hope for in her arrival; the idea of calling someone home was long forgotten in his mind till he met her again. This Bondita was a woman who reminded him of his mother, took care of him and respected his vision. She was everything he kept looking for in a partner, and he decided he was never going to. There was no point in denying that, in the uncomfortable awkwardness he felt around the grown-up Bondita, he had been attracted to her like a man is attracted to a woman. He accepted his fate. There was no escape from it.
His grip loosened on her hand as he was lost in unsure thoughts, not to offend her. Aniruddha found her palm turning over the handbag at his loosened clasp, and her fingers found a way, entwining in his as she held on. It took Aniruddha a moment that felt like a lifetime to hold her hand back, tighter than before, not in a clasp but with fingers intertwined in hers. It would be wrong to say Aniruddha did not find his palms sweaty and was slightly embarrassed by it, but he knew there was no way he was leaving her hand.
Bondita inhaled sharply as his fingers intertwined with hers. For the first time, she felt the silence had more emotions wrapped in its darkness than words ever could find a way between them. She felt reassured, protected and most importantly, secure about whatever they had. She knew in her heart what she felt, and she would never feel again with anyone else. Bondita wondered, for all her life, she had wanted to feel a certain way around him, in his reassuring hugs and holding her hand to direct her, but Bondita had never felt differently or like she had imagined it would feel. The shiver down the spine, the flushed cheeks, the sweaty palms, she knew it was all her, in her head, dreaming up something unreal. For the first time, she felt his hands hot in hers, sweaty yet refusing to let go. For the first time, his reassuring grasp, his thumb soothing her skin, erupted goosebumps on her arms. Was this what reciprocation felt like? Bondita felt like her heart would explode.
The driver asked if they would like to stop by for a snack or dinner on the way because it would take about four hours to reach home. Aniruddha parted his lips unsurely as Bondita whispered, “No.” A faint smile appeared on Aniruddha’s lips as he looked out the window at the passing houses, trees, fields, and lamp posts, trying to check his overwhelming feeling. Was she as afraid to let go of the hand, wondering how they would find their way back to each other? Aniruddha smiled as he gently tugged her hand in his, from over the handbag towards him. Bondita moved an inch closer to accommodate his bravery. Her fingers opened briefly in the movement, as she turned her palm to a better angle, turning her hand over his this time. Aniruddha suddenly felt her gaze on him briefly as he felt too conscious to stare back at her, fearing it would break the moment. He forced his stare out of the window as Bondita looked away to her side. She was unsure of her handbag in between, as she used her right hand to drag it onto her lap to prevent it from falling off the seat. Aniruddha felt the obstacle removed as he straightened himself, running his thumb playfully between her thumb and index finger. Bondita responded as the tip of her fingers lingered over his knuckles. Aniruddha exhaled, making her stop, a little flustered, perhaps alarmed. He nudged gently at her hand entwined in his, as if to urge her to continue what she had stopped. Their fingers played in a rhythmic dance as Bondita found her stomach churning. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the window, in vain to avoid blushing profusely.
Aniruddha’s throat felt dry. He felt an urge to tell her what he felt. He realised he never needed words with Bondita; he never needed to try. All his doubts seemed to melt away the moment he felt her reassuring clasp in his. Every minute felt like an hour as the driver turned on the radio, allowing the music to fill in the awkward silence of the car. It registered on neither of their minds what songs continued to play between the RJ talking and the same advertisements playing over and over again.
Aniruddha was the first to let go of Bondita’s hand as soon as the car entered the Roy Chowdhury premises. As soon as the vehicle stopped, Bihari ran out of the house, and Bondita stepped out of her side without a glance at her co-passenger. She watched the driver open the trunk as she picked up her duffel bag, and Bihari reached for Aniruddha’s trolley. Bondita turned towards home, her palms still sweaty and warm, her heart thumping in her chest.
Kalindi greeted Bondita at the threshold. “Clean up, have dinner.”
“I will take it myself, please go and sleep,” Bondita reassured her as Kalindi smiled at her. “You seem too happy. Did the trip go well?” Bondita’s smile faded a little as she nodded. “Yes, I met Tapur.” She smiled as she knew Kalindi would enquire more. “I will tell you more about it in the morning. I have to go to work…” The moment she said it, Bondita’s heart skipped a beat. Could she stand in the same room as him without being flustered about it? She watched Kalindi’s keen eyes hovering on her as she smiled back and walked to her room.
Aniruddha walked into his room, where Bihari had kept the trolley down, and he turned on the dim night lamp instead of the usual tubelight. The air was humid and sweaty, and he removed his T-shirt from over his vest and tossed it on the chair. The light from the premises outside that remained on throughout the night was enough to navigate through the silhouette of furniture as he stopped at the window briefly. Curiosity got the better of him as he held on to the lotus-designed grill of the window, and his eyes fell on the Choto Bari. The light of her room was on, the window ajar, but the curtains were drawn, enough for him to see the silhouette of her features as she moved around the room. A gentle breeze touched his face as he breathed in, watching her from afar. It looked like she was skipping through the room like she did as a child. Aniruddha smiled, a little amused as he turned on the radio to fill the silence. Tumi Ashbe Bole played as Nachiketa’s voice filled the room. Aniruddha lay on his back, staring at the whirling fan, wondering. This was not how he planned the trip, but when did plans work? Should he talk to her about his feelings, or did he not need to? Was it too soon? Did she not think of it as something like he did? How could Aniruddha find out? How could he ensure a future he now hoped for?
Bondita closed her door and opened her window to see that his room was still dark. She could not stop smiling as she turned on the radio. The Radio was playing late-night, uninterrupted music.
Dil Ne Kaisi Harkat Ki Hai Pehli Baar Mohabbat Ki Hai
Bondita found herself twirling in her room as her eyes fell on the mirror, and she hid her face in her palms, embarrassed. She realised that her hands smelled of his familiar musk perfume and sweat. She had to remind herself to compose her emotions; she was not fifteen anymore. Then why did it feel like fifteen again?
