Had it not been for the juicy and delectable ‘Himsagar’ mangoes, a foray to Kolkata in the middle of June would have simply been a strict and an enormous ‘No’. A foolish act? Maybe. Kolkata, the ‘Tilottoma’ (the enchantress) was incredibly sultry and generously sprinkled grime, sweat and frayed tempers onto her admirers. She was hot but definitely not sexy.
We had very little choice as far as leave was concerned, thanks to our peculiar work plans.
After gritting our teeth through the tantrums of the yellow taxi and after spending the entire day cleaning the house, I was almost dying of exhaustion. So, when my worse half (pun intended) suggested that we sample some quality ‘Phuchka’ (golgappas) that was nigh impossible to find in Delhi, I enthusiastically agreed and in no time we were at our old haunt, Gariahat. The typical and delicate taste of the green chilies and the roasted ‘dhaniya jeera' to a large extent, compensated the constant stream of sweat that was dripping down my neck and not to speak of the tangy but ethereal admixture of the tears and nasal discharge that accompanied it. Heaven!!
The mood elevating evening was just settling in, the omnipresent hawkers and girls and boys in pairs sharing their happiness banters and some ‘churmurrr’ (an original mixture composed of crushed golgappas, some potato mixture, and masala in a tamarind milieu) were all around us. If there was ‘swarg’, it was here!
Even us! We looked more human than the career ‘rodents’ we had become in Delhi.
"Isn't that Didi?" A voice filled with simultaneous excitement and pleasure shouted out, as the bike screeched to a halt. We both looked up at the man whose head was still covered in his helmet. He removed the headgear quickly and we faced someone whose smile literally extended to his ears.
"Didi! Remember me? I am Sukumar," he said breathlessly! His wide smile instantly brought back memories, all at once. He cocked his head to the right and asked my husband, "What Dada, remember me? You all right! Oh, how can I ever forget those days?" Dada! Have you reduced your smoking? Didi used to scold you so much! And what about Ranju and Gudiya's mother?" He was unstoppable with genuine delight. And he wasn't finished yet.
Suddenly, he said, "Oh, I forgot," bit his tongue and before we could react, quickly bent his torso and touched mine and then my husband's feet. Yes, he was Sukumar all right.
"How are you, Sukumar? It's been such a long time. It's so wonderful to see you," retorted my husband, full of genuine happiness while placing his palm on his head.
After the initial euphoria, Sukumar, at last, settled down but the smile remained on his lips. He hadn't changed a bit. I asked him what I must have asked umpteen numbers of times, "So, how's everything?"
"Everything is fine Didi, everything is fine; with your blessings Didi," he answered, as he always did.
"And, how is your beautiful wife," my husband asked with a bit of naughtiness. Sukumar looked abashed and said, "She is doing wonderfully well Dada. Beyond imagination! Dada, you know her, na? She has now expanded, big time. Hardly gets any time."
That response was expected. Sukumar could hardly see anything beyond his Mitali. I had never seen any man so completely in love with his wife. The adjacent man called ‘my husband’ needed some lessons!!
"Are you still working out of Barasat or moved near to Kolkata?" I asked.
For a moment, Sukumar appeared to be in a bit of dilemma, then smiled brightly and said, "Didi, Mitali has moved to Kolkata, the business is all there. It's a big thing. It was impossible to manage from Barasat."
"How is Mashima (aunty), she agreed to leave Barasat?" I joked.
Sukumar was quiet for a second and then said with some extra enthusiasm, "Maa won't leave. I am with her. She's getting older and a little cranky. Mitali has moved alone, she needs proper help now. It is no longer business on bikes. She has a boutique now, you understand, na! He said with obvious pride.
I was stumped. What was he saying? I was left for words.
"No, I don't understand," said my husband, surprising me with his tone. "No, I don't understand, Sukumar," he repeated.
The smile vanished from Sukumar's face for an instant but it returned. With an embarrassing face, he said, "Mitali was having problems working from here. She needed more money to expand. She's now working in partnership with someone. She has opened a big boutique. Sticking around with me would have led to nowhere. I only asked her to go. Honestly. Didi, you must visit her boutique. She will be so happy to see you."
He continued to blabber. In a minute, I came to know everything about the boutique and how it had overtaken all competition. At last, he stopped and looked down, the smile still pasted on his face.
With great difficulty, I asked, "Sukumar, when did this happen?"
Sukumar looked up and said quietly," Didi, one year back. But believe me, she had no choice. I only told her." He stopped, overwhelmed.
He suddenly put his helmet back and said in a strained voice, "Didi, please go to her boutique if you have time. It is beautiful." He paused and said, "Everyone says so."
He thrust a card into my hand and with that, he kicked his bike hard and left. We stood like framed pictures watching the tail light disappear into the crowd.
Thinking of Sukumar, I was transported back to our days in Kolkata, four years behind. We were then staying at the government quarters near the race course. I was employed as a thankless, frustrated and unpaid housewife looking after one useless husband (Mama’s boy!) and one incorrigible daughter (Papa’s pet!). It was again, the month of May and the humidity was killing when suddenly, there was a bell. I opened the door and a smallish man with a wide grin was standing at the door. I had no clue as to who he was.
Undaunted by my complete lack of recognition, he confidently said, "Didi, we have come from Barasat, but the person we have come to meet is not at home. I have my wife with me and she is feeling unwell. The liftman said that you are a Bengali and I said to Mitu that won't she give us a glass of water? Definitely, she will. Didi, can you give us a glass of water?" It was then that I noticed, a shy girl standing halfway down the staircase clutching the rails.
The man introduced himself, "Didi, I am Sukumar and she is Mitu… Mitali. We are out since morning and it's so hot. All the way from Barasat. Mitu is not well. Can we come in?"
I virtually had no choice, so I let them in. After a bit of hesitation, Mitali sat on a sofa but Sukumar promptly and confidently plonked himself on the carpet near his wife. He looked around and said, "Didi, what a lovely house you have and all those small Ganeshas; you collect them, Didi?" Embarrassed, Mitali gave him a small push. He was unabashed and continued his childlike enthusiasm. Meanwhile, I brought in water and some sweets. Sukumar refused the sweets but insisted that Mitali has them. In the end, he too finished the plate.
In a short while, I learned (mostly from Sukumar) that this frail girl, Mitali was an exceptional artist cum entrepreneur who was designing exquisite sarees and offering them only to the discerning gentry who understood art. I asked a few mundane questions, out of courtesy. In a flash, he was up, ran down the stairs and hauled up two large bags full of sarees and started displaying them much to the discomfort of Mitali who was cringing in embarrassment. I soon realised that both of them were indeed a talented couple and Sukumar was not off the mark in his assessment of Mitali. Meanwhile, Mitali too warmed up and started discussing various art forms and I found a very knowledgeable girl in her. Sukumar left no stone unturned to praise her, whenever the opportunity arose. Though not needed, I did end up buying two sarees. They left on a bike with two big bags precariously hanging on both the sides.
That was the start. Over the next one year, I came to know them threadbare and they lost all their inhibitions. They would land up at my place and show me their new creations. Mitali would ask me about different patterns and motifs and experiment out, creating excellent artwork. Sukumar would untiringly transport Mitali and the bags of sarees all over the city sporting his typical smile. He was very straightforward and would often ask for food without hesitation. Once he and Mitali had dropped in the afternoon and straightaway had said, "Didi, do you have some rice and dal? We haven't had anything since morning. We are driving directly from Shantiniketan." And that day, I actually had only ‘that’ in my house but the glee with which he ate and forced Mitali to eat that rice and dal and an omelette was so heart-warming. I soon noticed that behind his own requests for food, he always encouraged Mitali to eat. Like a stern headmaster.
Mitali was a postgraduate in English and I was surprised that she was into the business of sarees. I was also a trifle intrigued by her unusual combination with Sukumar who was academically nowhere near her. She would endlessly discuss her plans and dreams with me. She could work hard and travel. Sukumar was the perfect foil for her always ready to cart her around, with the largest smile I ever saw. Sukumar was a great human.
We had left the city three years back and had lost touch with them. Our chance meeting with Sukumar kept playing on my mind.
Lying beside each other, I brought up the subject of Mitali and Sukumar. Somehow, there was something that was bothering me. My husband was practical; he morosely advised me to mind my own business and not think too much about others. He said only one sentence in Bengali, "Aapni banchley baaper naam (Lucky, if we survive our own problems)."
There was nothing much I could say. He was actually right. We were indeed struggling!
For the next few days, we moved around Kolkata reliving our olden days and visiting places akin to a pilgrimage. Barbeque at Park Street, Peter Cat, Balaram Mullick, Hatari, Music World, Coffee House and finally the great Gariahat.
And, of course, "The Academy of Fine Arts and Rabindra Sadan."
We were in a trance. We would leave the house in the morning and return late at night, exhausted but exhilarated looking forward towards the next day.
The third day, we saw a play in ‘Madhusudan Mancha’, had biryani at ‘Arsalan’, sweets at ‘Banchharam’ and roll at ‘Bedouin’. We loitered around Gariahat aimlessly till night when all of a sudden my husband nudged me. I turned and found him pointing somewhere. I followed his gaze and my eyes got stuck on a bright neon sign, "Mitali Creation's". For a moment, I wasn't sure, maybe, it was some other store. After all, Mitali wasn't an uncommon name. But the eyes of my husband confirmed the address and my feet started moving towards the store on its own.
It was a great boutique, tastefully decorated and designed. The colour scheme, the apparels, the paintings on the wall, all looked perfect. A girl approached us to help and I suddenly realised that I had no actual business here and immediately felt nonplussed. My other half tactfully managed the situation by calmly explaining that we had come to meet the lady of the house, Mitali. We were politely informed that she wasn't in but we could be helped. Again, my worse half rose to the occasion and scribbled down my name and mobile number on the visitor's book. And we left. I had a relook. Definitely, it was a stellar show.
It was not different from my expectations.
But, what about her?
The answer came the next day. My phone rang and an unknown number stared at me. After some hesitation, I answered. At the other end, it was Mitali, the same sweet voice that I was so familiar with. She was a little tentative and so was I but both of us quickly got over our initial shyness. Mitali wanted to come and meet us. My hubby looked irritated and made gestures with his hand that doubtlessly meant ‘to get rid of her.' I was in a fix and tried to be diplomatic but she wouldn't take no for an answer and additionally insisted on having lunch. And the ‘die was cast’. My poor hubby was upset since his ‘Mainland buffet' was ruined. Though distressed, he gamely acted the gentleman and went to the market to procure materials for the impending lunch. Sometimes, this fellow appeared reasonable though I was sure he volunteered to go to the market just to steal a smoke.
She came in at 12 pm sharp, in a chauffeur-driven car. She entered and I couldn't take my eyes off her! Mitali, whom I knew so well, had vanished. I was no longer looking at a frail, intense girl running from pillar to post, selling sarees but a smart, beautiful, well dressed, and a glowing woman of substance oozing confidence. In front of her, I felt our own presence, diminished. For the first time, she appeared to comfort me; such was her presence. She spoke to us with assurance, joked at my husband and commented on my dishevelled hair benevolently. I suddenly felt uneasy about the food that I cooked for her. I expected Mitali, not a CEO.
Even my ‘smart alec' hubby looked a bit discomfited. He was surely outwitted.
However, our old Mitali slowly emerged from her shell of smartness and I realised that she was the same old self, though in a newer avatar. And soon, she was all over the place, reliving olden days. She remembered each and every small thing that I had somehow forgotten! She had brought a gift for me. I was reluctant to accept because it was obviously expensive but before I could open my mouth, she did a strange thing. She kneeled and placed the gift on my feet and won't let me go till I said yes. Crazy girl! It was a saree with ‘fine brush' batik work, exquisite. Undeniably, her own artwork and compellingly expensive.
While serving food, I hesitated and apologised for the meagre arrangements that I had made for the lunch but she fiercely scolded me for even entertaining the thought. All this while, my husband was quiet, staring strangely at Mitali, as if assessing her.
Once the food was over, Mitali comfortably settled herself on the bed and held my hand. Till now, we had not spoken anything about her, neither asked about her work nor about her new life. I finally asked her about her boutique. I said that it was beautiful and she agreed. She had suddenly quietened down as if struggling with herself.
She suddenly blurted out, "Didi, I no longer stay with Sukumar."
We knew that. We waited for her to say more. She wanted to say more, but she was unable to initiate.
I tried to make it easier for her and said, "Was it difficult to manage from Barasat?" Mitali contemplated the question and said looking downwards, "Didi. I was never afraid of hardship and I always did honest work. I struggled for three years. I produced high-quality material and went door to door, selling them. People appreciated the work but sales were low because my work was relatively expensive. Even that was not a problem but the crowd where I operated considered me just a vendor, never an artist. For them, I was just a saree seller. I needed to come to Kolkata. I needed to show what I could do and Barasat was stifling my capabilities. I was getting frustrated. Sukumar was comfortable within his own surroundings but he never liked Kolkata. I thought a lot and decided that I needed to move ahead in life. I met a man who helped me set up the boutique, helped me with finance and infrastructure. For one full year, I slogged to establish myself. Days and nights had no meaning for me. At last, I met with success. Today, I travel in a car; meet people who appreciate my work; people who take appointments to meet me. I have achieved my dream. Am I wrong, Didi? Am I wrong, Dada? Tell me. Your words mean everything."
Simple straightforward words. What could I say? There was nothing wrong with the logic but Sukumar's smiling face continued to inundate my mind. If there were ‘horns of a dilemma’, then this was it. And worse, I had no way to vocalise. What could I say?
We all remained quiet for a long time. My husband who was unusually quiet during the entire visit unexpectedly spoke up. I was surprised, to say the least.
He said, "Look Mitali, we have no ‘locus standi’ to say anything. If I do I will transgress propriety. But let me still say a few things. You are unnecessarily trying to find fault with yourself where none exists. You are absolutely right that you needed to move ahead. And, for that, you needed to take some tough decisions that included leaving Barasat and Sukumar. It would have been foolish for you to keep yourself bound in a relationship that had very little future. It was a pragmatic decision and well expected of an intelligent girl of your calibre. You need to be congratulated that you have not unnecessarily bound yourself in routine and mundane definitions of social responsibilities against your wishes. Hat's off to you."
He paused for a second, organised his thoughts and pressed on, "Now about Sukumar. I have seen you both for a long time and I wish to say this. To me, Sukumar comes across as a sheer opportunist; going piggyback on his wife's capabilities and his own inadequacies. He is well aware that he does not deserve to have a wife like you but he does not want to leave you because he is selfish. He is like hundred others who would behave nicely and have a cushy time at the expense of his wife who is far superior to him.
Actually, he is a parasite who has been using you by doing unnecessary things like lugging some luggage and chauffeuring you around on a menial bike in the name of comfort. That was how he manipulated attention. And sad to say, he succeeded for a long time!! Shame!!
He always did funny things like showing public affection and requesting you to eat well in front of others or show concern that you were not well. Whenever someone was nearby, Sukumar would praise your skills or your hard work or bring soft drinks and confuse the bystanders. This way he garnered sympathy. That’s how he survived. That was his game. Your leaving him has put all his plans to a nought!
Actually, we met him the other day and I could make out that he is still hopeful. Knowing perfectly well that he should let you go, he gave us your boutique card so that we could go there. Why? So that we can tell you how nice he is. Parasites are like that.
I am sure that at Barasat, you must also have had a terrible time with his mother. Which mother would accept a daughter in law better than her son? My own mother never accepted!
Mitali, you have taken a good and bold decision. Start a new life with someone who is equal to you and not someone who is a loser; like Sukumar."
He, in the end, smiled and said cheerfully, "let us have some tea and celebrate Mitali's escape from bondage."
And he went out of the room.
I sat stunned.
Silence!!
Not knowing how to react and what to say, I went to the kitchen to make tea; just to find some time and think over this bizarre development.
After about 10 minutes, as I returned with tea and biscuits, I found Mitali lying prone on the bed, her face pressed to the pillow; her body contorting and shaking in agony.
She looked up and said through her bleeding eyes, "Dada is wrong."
Mitali left without touching the tea and my stupid husband was nowhere to be seen. He returned late in the night and tried to make some small talk with me. I did not speak to him. I never could imagine that he could be so ruthless, so unkind; so insensitive.
Monster!
We did not speak for three days.
On the fourth day, Mitali waltzed in like a breeze and she looked blissfully happy. She chimed, “Didi, where is your Darjeeling tea?” and settled down on the bed. I hurried towards the kitchen.
After having her tea in silence, she confided, "Didi!! I am going back to Barasat."
What was this girl saying? I was awestruck. "How come?" I asked with incredulity!
"Didi, the decision was easy," she said simply.
I was totally confused but terribly happy. Maybe, Mitali realised it by the look on my face.
She said, "Didi, that day when I left your house, my life had gone upside down and I did not know what to do and where to go. Slowly, my mind cleared and I asked the driver to take me back to the boutique. You know Didi, this boutique, that had remained my centre of existence for one year suddenly appeared alien. But, I was caught up in work and being busy was an excellent way to pass time and suddenly, it was eight ‘o'clock.
I asked my staff to go home and silently waited for him to come. I knew that he would, my sixth sense was telling me. But he made me wait till nine. I saw him standing in front of the closed door. I opened it and he was shocked to see me and then he smiled.
The first thing, I asked him in a year was, “Do you come every day?” He looked down in embarrassment and nodded.
For one year Didi, he came daily and I never knew. Shame on me!
I asked him to come in. He hesitated and then he stepped in. Can you believe Didi; he opened his shoes outside the door before entering? The same old meagre shoes! Only, this time it was torn too.
He looked around and his face lit up like a child. There was so much pride in his look. The first thing he said was ‘wonderful!'
What was I supposed to say? That I was sorry for having treated him like dirt? I knew he will be surprised if I said sorry because in his eyes I could do nothing wrong!
So, I sat with him on the floor. He carefully inspected the floor tiles and was happy that it too was wonderful.
He kept looking at me. Didi, people say that face mirrors emotions, that day I could see the heart of that man. I could never see the darkness in me.
But I needed to speak before it was too late. I told him that I was returning to Barasat with him. He looked at me with the same genuine surprise, the way you looked at me, a while ago. He was not getting his calculations right. He appeared worried and looked around. This time, I told him firmly that I had already set up a working system here and a good manager would be able to handle everything and we would visit from Barasat on our bike.
Till now he was quiet but, I could feel that he wanted to say something. I held his hands and said, “Say, what you want to.”
He hemmed and hawed and at last, with great difficulty and shame, he said that what I would say to my new partner. I understood what he meant. So, I said that he would be very angry and may even beat us up. The only way to escape was to run away and we must do that immediately. He jumped up and we locked the door and left that night for Shantiniketan on the bike.
We have come back today."
"Where is Sukumar?" I asked.
"He is at the boutique." She said.
I was worried, “Mitu! Has he changed the torn shoes?”
Mitali buried her face in my lap and cried in agony, “Didi, let my Sukumar never change! He will accept his new Mitu, I cannot.”
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I knew my stupid half was back and I was uncomfortable that Mitali would meet him.
I spoke with a bit of urgency, "Mitali, I am really sorry for your Dada's behaviour that day. Sometimes, he goes completely overboard, you know. Tell me, you will forgive him."
Before she could answer, the devil himself entered and alternately stared at Mitali and then me. He quizzically raised his eyebrows and asked me, "Hi Adi! Ask Mitali, what has she decided?"
To my extreme amazement and annoyance, Mitali jumped down the bed and touched Tram's feet and said, "Dada! Thanks for everything."
Then she touched my feet too. I was livid.
WTF, No one bothers to tell me anything around here.
Tram looked at me and said, “Adi darling, the ‘vedas’ say that God blesses a woman with one hundred sons if she gives her monster husband some ‘Lopchu’ tea.”
“Get someone else for that,” I retorted and left for the kitchen, fuming as hell. Vedas or no vedas!
After the tea was over, Tram asked Mitu, “So! What happened at Shantiniketan?”
Mitu remained thoughtful and then said quietly, “Dada, I don’t know what to say. That night we were on the bike for four hours. I felt his nearness within myself as never before. We reached much after midnight. I got the best room for us. Though we were tired, I had decided that I would fill Sukumar with all the love that I had within myself.
Sukumar was lying on one side facing the wall. I slept near him and tried to turn him towards me. He did not move. He kept holding on to the side of the bed. I cried, I requested and I forced him but he did not turn. His hurt, his wound and his frail body made me curse my own inept stone heart.
Dada, I deserved it. But, I promise that I myself will correct the wrongs.
All of a sudden, she got up and said, “Didi, I must go. I will come in the evening. I will bring him along.”
And, she left.
I clutched him with pure trepidation, “What will happen now?”
He slapped me hard on my back, “Don't worry dear, the crisis is over.”
That hurt bad. Senseless chap. Brute!
As promised, Sukumar and Mitali were at our house sharp at 7. For the first time in my life, I looked at Sukumar with love admixed with admiration. Outwardly, there was no change in him. His smile remained omnipresent and omnipotent. Had Mitali not narrated the happenings at Shantiniketan, I would have considered him a great human though a trifle lacking in self-esteem. A person rightfully loved for his simplicity but deficient in his strength to stand up against nonsense.
It was a new Sukumar, I saw and perceived him as such.
The evening moved on smoothly. There was so much to catch up. Most of the discussion centred around the good days. All of us carefully avoided the happenings of the past few days. There was no point in raking up issues once the reconciliation was evident. Still, my mind could not wipe away the unease. Both were comfortable speaking about our association four years back and we too were contented with that.
Sukumar hesitated a bit and blurted out to Tram, “Can I borrow a cigarette? I mean, if you have?”
Tram looked at me and said enthusiastically, “I have left all those bad habits a long time back. But let me buy you one.” And both of them left.
I looked at Mitu. She smiled.
They came back after 20 minutes. Tram was reeking of mint. Bloody liar!!
They stayed back till late in the night. It was time for dinner. As I went to the kitchen, Sukumar followed me. He stood near me, watching me warming the food. After some time, he just said one sentence, “Didi, I am happy.” Just that and I nodded in understanding. He helped me to lay out the plates. My husband was in the living room providing company to Mitali. As we entered the room, we found both of them quiet.
Today, I had no complaints about the menu. It was satisfactory. Sukumar, for the first time that night said something that gladdened me, “Didi, fantastic food. Please come to Barasat before you leave. Mitu is such a good cook, unimaginable!”
Mitu turned beet red.
It was now time for them to leave. After another round of touching the feet etc, they departed.
The old bike was back.
I confronted him at night and said severely, "So it's all your doing. Tell me everything from the beginning, otherwise…." I knew a secret punishment that forced Tram to tell the truth. The process never failed.
It was called ‘big time tickling.'
Tram was magnanimous. He sat with me and held my hand (unnecessarily, I thought) and said, "Two things bothered me from the start. First, the way Sukumar handed the card and rushed away, I knew and it was not difficult to see that he was hiding a terrible pain behind his large smile. He has always been a large-hearted person for whom his own comforts always came last. And the small comforts, wishes and happiness of his wife always took precedence. He loathed to ever complain about anything but when it came to Mitali, he could walk the death, in silence.
This was precisely Sukumar's greatest strength as well as his terrible weakness. He never offered his opinions and over a period of time, Mitali became oblivious to his fine human qualities. And when she decided to move, he did not stop her because he could see that stopping her would destroy her dreams. He silently removed himself from the scene physically but she remained in his heart. He could never tell his Mitu, “Don’t leave!”
Meanwhile, Mitali in her enthusiasm placed all her priorities inside a single basket called the boutique. Sukumar slowly started to fade away from her mind map because he was no longer visible to her. Tragic.
Secondly, why was he at Gariahat at night, so far from Barasat? I studied the card carefully. ‘Mitali creations’ was at Gariahat. Two plus two equals four. Blind love propelled Sukumar to get a glimpse of his wife, but from a distance, each and every day for one year. Amazing.
I found that you were too deeply affected by this estrangement but did not know how to correct the wrong. So, I gave it a try. I specifically searched out the boutique and casually took you there just after Mitali had left. I wrote your name and contact number and assumed that she would call you back.
Fortunately, she responded and visited us. I made a fuss and presented an impression that I was mighty upset with her visit. While interacting with her I suddenly realised that Sukumar had ceased to be of any importance in her life. So, I tried a difficult angle because routine coaxing would not have worked. I started to abuse Sukumar and his motives, so much so that you were disturbed. I wanted to rekindle the goodness of the man in his wife's heart. I fervently hoped that the superior intelligence of Mitali would recognize the motive.
And it did.
The rest is history.
I kept silent. “Do you really think, it’s all over,” I asked after a few moments.
A shadow passed over his face and he said in a hushed tone, “I hope so. But who knows?”
I was alarmed by his voice, “Why so? What is the problem?”
He looked outside the window into the darkness and said, “The process of rebuilding will not be easy. There will be too many pitfalls, too many challenges. The string that held them with strength is no longer intact. It’s broken. Can be mended but it will never be the old one.”
“You understand what I am saying?” He added, after an awkward moment.
I nodded. I knew it all along. There was no point in asking but I could not resist. Better out than in.
“Do you think Mitu cheated on Sukumar?”
Tram juggled the question and after a pause said, “Your guess is as good as mine. Only she knows the truth and it is for Sukumar to either take cognizance of or to overlook.”
Then he turned towards me and asked, “Do you think, it’s relevant? What do you think? Has Mitali cheated on Sukumar and is now repenting or has she just simply made a mistake in her zeal to succeed but did not cheat?”
“She just made a mistake, that’s all,” I replied with a force of belief that was deep within me and I did accept it as true.
Tram looked at me strangely, “How could you be so sure?”
I was sure and so I replied, “Being a woman myself, I can feel it. A woman loses the most when she gets into a new relationship. She is compelled to rework everything. She is virtually forced to explain everything afresh, shape new frontiers, answer funny questions, rebuild trust and mind you, the man never takes her on face value! For her, it is always an uphill task. Cheating is not a choice for her ever. Mitu would never choose that possibility!”
“Anything else.” He plodded on, sporting a mean smile on his lips.
“Yes,” I said.
“Unlike the man, she has to submit her body to a new person. This is not easy because it has such wide ramifications. You men will just move away after poking your tool. What do you care? For you men, it is just another pastime. Not for a woman.” I was getting angrier.
“Fine, fine. By your definition then, Sukumar is also a man and he must have been having a good time while Mitali was away.” Tram poked.
I was in no mood for any banter. With great difficulty, I was controlling my temper, “Look, there is no need to extrapolate Sukumar’s case in here. He is besotted with Mitu and he loves her like mad. I hope you have that much intelligence to understand that.”
Tram remained irritatingly persistent, “But how can you be so sure? Just because he looks meek and has been visiting Mitu’s boutique secretly or just because you like him is no guarantee that he was celibate all this time!”
Completely aghast, I shouted, “I know because I have known him for years and not everyone is made from the same mould. He is different, I know it.”
Tram was peaceful, “Adi, you know what? When the argument is weak, the voice gets stronger! Your argument is neither strong nor correct just because you are shouting. In a court of law, it will be thrown to the garbage as hearsay. It’s junk and you know that.”
That was the last straw, infuriated, I cried in extreme annoyance, “What do you know of trust and faith? Look who is talking? Look at yourself, your own filth!!”
He continued to smirk at me and then, I hit him. With all my might and he made no efforts to protect himself. Like a statue. Head down.
What did I do? I had promised, not to bring up his past ever. Never ever again!
The Rubicon was crossed beyond redemption, I walked to him. He was sitting, eyes downcast. I embraced his head to my breasts and whispered, “I am sorry. I did not mean it. Why did you provoke me?”
He looked up and said, “Thanks, Adi. You have forgiven me too easily in the past and I do not deserve it. Every time you bring it up and punish me, you would exorcise me of my crime. If that needs provocation, let it be. Thank you.”
And then he continued, “Mitu and Sukumar and you are better persons than I am. I am happy that I could help them.”
Embarrassed beyond limits, quietly I whispered, “Suppose Sukumar had not come that night to the boutique?”
He flashed his enigmatic smile and said, “No chance!! I only asked Sukumar to visit at nine and told Mitali to wait. Of course, separately."
"You could have told me," I said, partially in anger and partially in relief.
Tram looked at me and said, "This could have gone horribly wrong, Adi. Mitali could have been convinced of her being correct simply because of my melodrama. And you would have felt worse."
"Touch and go," it was.
"Do you know that I felt like killing you when you said all those horrible things about Sukumar, if only I had a gun!" I spoke in despair.
"I know, I know. But no bullet can kill me," he said with utter calmness.
"Why so?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Because, I have a bullet-proof jacket," he said inspirationally.
I was taken aback, "Bullet-proof jacket! Where? I have never seen it."
The stupid fellow pulled me towards him, all the while caressing my lips with his fingers and whispered, "My Adi is my bullet-proof jacket. No bullet has the capacity to ever reach me."
I was holding him with all my might and I realised something, I whispered back, “you are hard!”
He kissed me and said, “And my Adi is wet.”
“Shall we,” I queried?
“Of course, why not?” he said.
We had very little choice as far as leave was concerned, thanks to our peculiar work plans.
After gritting our teeth through the tantrums of the yellow taxi and after spending the entire day cleaning the house, I was almost dying of exhaustion. So, when my worse half (pun intended) suggested that we sample some quality ‘Phuchka’ (golgappas) that was nigh impossible to find in Delhi, I enthusiastically agreed and in no time we were at our old haunt, Gariahat. The typical and delicate taste of the green chilies and the roasted ‘dhaniya jeera' to a large extent, compensated the constant stream of sweat that was dripping down my neck and not to speak of the tangy but ethereal admixture of the tears and nasal discharge that accompanied it. Heaven!!
The mood elevating evening was just settling in, the omnipresent hawkers and girls and boys in pairs sharing their happiness banters and some ‘churmurrr’ (an original mixture composed of crushed golgappas, some potato mixture, and masala in a tamarind milieu) were all around us. If there was ‘swarg’, it was here!
Even us! We looked more human than the career ‘rodents’ we had become in Delhi.
"Isn't that Didi?" A voice filled with simultaneous excitement and pleasure shouted out, as the bike screeched to a halt. We both looked up at the man whose head was still covered in his helmet. He removed the headgear quickly and we faced someone whose smile literally extended to his ears.
"Didi! Remember me? I am Sukumar," he said breathlessly! His wide smile instantly brought back memories, all at once. He cocked his head to the right and asked my husband, "What Dada, remember me? You all right! Oh, how can I ever forget those days?" Dada! Have you reduced your smoking? Didi used to scold you so much! And what about Ranju and Gudiya's mother?" He was unstoppable with genuine delight. And he wasn't finished yet.
Suddenly, he said, "Oh, I forgot," bit his tongue and before we could react, quickly bent his torso and touched mine and then my husband's feet. Yes, he was Sukumar all right.
"How are you, Sukumar? It's been such a long time. It's so wonderful to see you," retorted my husband, full of genuine happiness while placing his palm on his head.
After the initial euphoria, Sukumar, at last, settled down but the smile remained on his lips. He hadn't changed a bit. I asked him what I must have asked umpteen numbers of times, "So, how's everything?"
"Everything is fine Didi, everything is fine; with your blessings Didi," he answered, as he always did.
"And, how is your beautiful wife," my husband asked with a bit of naughtiness. Sukumar looked abashed and said, "She is doing wonderfully well Dada. Beyond imagination! Dada, you know her, na? She has now expanded, big time. Hardly gets any time."
That response was expected. Sukumar could hardly see anything beyond his Mitali. I had never seen any man so completely in love with his wife. The adjacent man called ‘my husband’ needed some lessons!!
"Are you still working out of Barasat or moved near to Kolkata?" I asked.
For a moment, Sukumar appeared to be in a bit of dilemma, then smiled brightly and said, "Didi, Mitali has moved to Kolkata, the business is all there. It's a big thing. It was impossible to manage from Barasat."
"How is Mashima (aunty), she agreed to leave Barasat?" I joked.
Sukumar was quiet for a second and then said with some extra enthusiasm, "Maa won't leave. I am with her. She's getting older and a little cranky. Mitali has moved alone, she needs proper help now. It is no longer business on bikes. She has a boutique now, you understand, na! He said with obvious pride.
I was stumped. What was he saying? I was left for words.
"No, I don't understand," said my husband, surprising me with his tone. "No, I don't understand, Sukumar," he repeated.
The smile vanished from Sukumar's face for an instant but it returned. With an embarrassing face, he said, "Mitali was having problems working from here. She needed more money to expand. She's now working in partnership with someone. She has opened a big boutique. Sticking around with me would have led to nowhere. I only asked her to go. Honestly. Didi, you must visit her boutique. She will be so happy to see you."
He continued to blabber. In a minute, I came to know everything about the boutique and how it had overtaken all competition. At last, he stopped and looked down, the smile still pasted on his face.
With great difficulty, I asked, "Sukumar, when did this happen?"
Sukumar looked up and said quietly," Didi, one year back. But believe me, she had no choice. I only told her." He stopped, overwhelmed.
He suddenly put his helmet back and said in a strained voice, "Didi, please go to her boutique if you have time. It is beautiful." He paused and said, "Everyone says so."
He thrust a card into my hand and with that, he kicked his bike hard and left. We stood like framed pictures watching the tail light disappear into the crowd.
Thinking of Sukumar, I was transported back to our days in Kolkata, four years behind. We were then staying at the government quarters near the race course. I was employed as a thankless, frustrated and unpaid housewife looking after one useless husband (Mama’s boy!) and one incorrigible daughter (Papa’s pet!). It was again, the month of May and the humidity was killing when suddenly, there was a bell. I opened the door and a smallish man with a wide grin was standing at the door. I had no clue as to who he was.
Undaunted by my complete lack of recognition, he confidently said, "Didi, we have come from Barasat, but the person we have come to meet is not at home. I have my wife with me and she is feeling unwell. The liftman said that you are a Bengali and I said to Mitu that won't she give us a glass of water? Definitely, she will. Didi, can you give us a glass of water?" It was then that I noticed, a shy girl standing halfway down the staircase clutching the rails.
The man introduced himself, "Didi, I am Sukumar and she is Mitu… Mitali. We are out since morning and it's so hot. All the way from Barasat. Mitu is not well. Can we come in?"
I virtually had no choice, so I let them in. After a bit of hesitation, Mitali sat on a sofa but Sukumar promptly and confidently plonked himself on the carpet near his wife. He looked around and said, "Didi, what a lovely house you have and all those small Ganeshas; you collect them, Didi?" Embarrassed, Mitali gave him a small push. He was unabashed and continued his childlike enthusiasm. Meanwhile, I brought in water and some sweets. Sukumar refused the sweets but insisted that Mitali has them. In the end, he too finished the plate.
In a short while, I learned (mostly from Sukumar) that this frail girl, Mitali was an exceptional artist cum entrepreneur who was designing exquisite sarees and offering them only to the discerning gentry who understood art. I asked a few mundane questions, out of courtesy. In a flash, he was up, ran down the stairs and hauled up two large bags full of sarees and started displaying them much to the discomfort of Mitali who was cringing in embarrassment. I soon realised that both of them were indeed a talented couple and Sukumar was not off the mark in his assessment of Mitali. Meanwhile, Mitali too warmed up and started discussing various art forms and I found a very knowledgeable girl in her. Sukumar left no stone unturned to praise her, whenever the opportunity arose. Though not needed, I did end up buying two sarees. They left on a bike with two big bags precariously hanging on both the sides.
That was the start. Over the next one year, I came to know them threadbare and they lost all their inhibitions. They would land up at my place and show me their new creations. Mitali would ask me about different patterns and motifs and experiment out, creating excellent artwork. Sukumar would untiringly transport Mitali and the bags of sarees all over the city sporting his typical smile. He was very straightforward and would often ask for food without hesitation. Once he and Mitali had dropped in the afternoon and straightaway had said, "Didi, do you have some rice and dal? We haven't had anything since morning. We are driving directly from Shantiniketan." And that day, I actually had only ‘that’ in my house but the glee with which he ate and forced Mitali to eat that rice and dal and an omelette was so heart-warming. I soon noticed that behind his own requests for food, he always encouraged Mitali to eat. Like a stern headmaster.
Mitali was a postgraduate in English and I was surprised that she was into the business of sarees. I was also a trifle intrigued by her unusual combination with Sukumar who was academically nowhere near her. She would endlessly discuss her plans and dreams with me. She could work hard and travel. Sukumar was the perfect foil for her always ready to cart her around, with the largest smile I ever saw. Sukumar was a great human.
We had left the city three years back and had lost touch with them. Our chance meeting with Sukumar kept playing on my mind.
Lying beside each other, I brought up the subject of Mitali and Sukumar. Somehow, there was something that was bothering me. My husband was practical; he morosely advised me to mind my own business and not think too much about others. He said only one sentence in Bengali, "Aapni banchley baaper naam (Lucky, if we survive our own problems)."
There was nothing much I could say. He was actually right. We were indeed struggling!
For the next few days, we moved around Kolkata reliving our olden days and visiting places akin to a pilgrimage. Barbeque at Park Street, Peter Cat, Balaram Mullick, Hatari, Music World, Coffee House and finally the great Gariahat.
And, of course, "The Academy of Fine Arts and Rabindra Sadan."
We were in a trance. We would leave the house in the morning and return late at night, exhausted but exhilarated looking forward towards the next day.
The third day, we saw a play in ‘Madhusudan Mancha’, had biryani at ‘Arsalan’, sweets at ‘Banchharam’ and roll at ‘Bedouin’. We loitered around Gariahat aimlessly till night when all of a sudden my husband nudged me. I turned and found him pointing somewhere. I followed his gaze and my eyes got stuck on a bright neon sign, "Mitali Creation's". For a moment, I wasn't sure, maybe, it was some other store. After all, Mitali wasn't an uncommon name. But the eyes of my husband confirmed the address and my feet started moving towards the store on its own.
It was a great boutique, tastefully decorated and designed. The colour scheme, the apparels, the paintings on the wall, all looked perfect. A girl approached us to help and I suddenly realised that I had no actual business here and immediately felt nonplussed. My other half tactfully managed the situation by calmly explaining that we had come to meet the lady of the house, Mitali. We were politely informed that she wasn't in but we could be helped. Again, my worse half rose to the occasion and scribbled down my name and mobile number on the visitor's book. And we left. I had a relook. Definitely, it was a stellar show.
It was not different from my expectations.
But, what about her?
The answer came the next day. My phone rang and an unknown number stared at me. After some hesitation, I answered. At the other end, it was Mitali, the same sweet voice that I was so familiar with. She was a little tentative and so was I but both of us quickly got over our initial shyness. Mitali wanted to come and meet us. My hubby looked irritated and made gestures with his hand that doubtlessly meant ‘to get rid of her.' I was in a fix and tried to be diplomatic but she wouldn't take no for an answer and additionally insisted on having lunch. And the ‘die was cast’. My poor hubby was upset since his ‘Mainland buffet' was ruined. Though distressed, he gamely acted the gentleman and went to the market to procure materials for the impending lunch. Sometimes, this fellow appeared reasonable though I was sure he volunteered to go to the market just to steal a smoke.
She came in at 12 pm sharp, in a chauffeur-driven car. She entered and I couldn't take my eyes off her! Mitali, whom I knew so well, had vanished. I was no longer looking at a frail, intense girl running from pillar to post, selling sarees but a smart, beautiful, well dressed, and a glowing woman of substance oozing confidence. In front of her, I felt our own presence, diminished. For the first time, she appeared to comfort me; such was her presence. She spoke to us with assurance, joked at my husband and commented on my dishevelled hair benevolently. I suddenly felt uneasy about the food that I cooked for her. I expected Mitali, not a CEO.
Even my ‘smart alec' hubby looked a bit discomfited. He was surely outwitted.
However, our old Mitali slowly emerged from her shell of smartness and I realised that she was the same old self, though in a newer avatar. And soon, she was all over the place, reliving olden days. She remembered each and every small thing that I had somehow forgotten! She had brought a gift for me. I was reluctant to accept because it was obviously expensive but before I could open my mouth, she did a strange thing. She kneeled and placed the gift on my feet and won't let me go till I said yes. Crazy girl! It was a saree with ‘fine brush' batik work, exquisite. Undeniably, her own artwork and compellingly expensive.
While serving food, I hesitated and apologised for the meagre arrangements that I had made for the lunch but she fiercely scolded me for even entertaining the thought. All this while, my husband was quiet, staring strangely at Mitali, as if assessing her.
Once the food was over, Mitali comfortably settled herself on the bed and held my hand. Till now, we had not spoken anything about her, neither asked about her work nor about her new life. I finally asked her about her boutique. I said that it was beautiful and she agreed. She had suddenly quietened down as if struggling with herself.
She suddenly blurted out, "Didi, I no longer stay with Sukumar."
We knew that. We waited for her to say more. She wanted to say more, but she was unable to initiate.
I tried to make it easier for her and said, "Was it difficult to manage from Barasat?" Mitali contemplated the question and said looking downwards, "Didi. I was never afraid of hardship and I always did honest work. I struggled for three years. I produced high-quality material and went door to door, selling them. People appreciated the work but sales were low because my work was relatively expensive. Even that was not a problem but the crowd where I operated considered me just a vendor, never an artist. For them, I was just a saree seller. I needed to come to Kolkata. I needed to show what I could do and Barasat was stifling my capabilities. I was getting frustrated. Sukumar was comfortable within his own surroundings but he never liked Kolkata. I thought a lot and decided that I needed to move ahead in life. I met a man who helped me set up the boutique, helped me with finance and infrastructure. For one full year, I slogged to establish myself. Days and nights had no meaning for me. At last, I met with success. Today, I travel in a car; meet people who appreciate my work; people who take appointments to meet me. I have achieved my dream. Am I wrong, Didi? Am I wrong, Dada? Tell me. Your words mean everything."
Simple straightforward words. What could I say? There was nothing wrong with the logic but Sukumar's smiling face continued to inundate my mind. If there were ‘horns of a dilemma’, then this was it. And worse, I had no way to vocalise. What could I say?
We all remained quiet for a long time. My husband who was unusually quiet during the entire visit unexpectedly spoke up. I was surprised, to say the least.
He said, "Look Mitali, we have no ‘locus standi’ to say anything. If I do I will transgress propriety. But let me still say a few things. You are unnecessarily trying to find fault with yourself where none exists. You are absolutely right that you needed to move ahead. And, for that, you needed to take some tough decisions that included leaving Barasat and Sukumar. It would have been foolish for you to keep yourself bound in a relationship that had very little future. It was a pragmatic decision and well expected of an intelligent girl of your calibre. You need to be congratulated that you have not unnecessarily bound yourself in routine and mundane definitions of social responsibilities against your wishes. Hat's off to you."
He paused for a second, organised his thoughts and pressed on, "Now about Sukumar. I have seen you both for a long time and I wish to say this. To me, Sukumar comes across as a sheer opportunist; going piggyback on his wife's capabilities and his own inadequacies. He is well aware that he does not deserve to have a wife like you but he does not want to leave you because he is selfish. He is like hundred others who would behave nicely and have a cushy time at the expense of his wife who is far superior to him.
Actually, he is a parasite who has been using you by doing unnecessary things like lugging some luggage and chauffeuring you around on a menial bike in the name of comfort. That was how he manipulated attention. And sad to say, he succeeded for a long time!! Shame!!
He always did funny things like showing public affection and requesting you to eat well in front of others or show concern that you were not well. Whenever someone was nearby, Sukumar would praise your skills or your hard work or bring soft drinks and confuse the bystanders. This way he garnered sympathy. That’s how he survived. That was his game. Your leaving him has put all his plans to a nought!
Actually, we met him the other day and I could make out that he is still hopeful. Knowing perfectly well that he should let you go, he gave us your boutique card so that we could go there. Why? So that we can tell you how nice he is. Parasites are like that.
I am sure that at Barasat, you must also have had a terrible time with his mother. Which mother would accept a daughter in law better than her son? My own mother never accepted!
Mitali, you have taken a good and bold decision. Start a new life with someone who is equal to you and not someone who is a loser; like Sukumar."
He, in the end, smiled and said cheerfully, "let us have some tea and celebrate Mitali's escape from bondage."
And he went out of the room.
I sat stunned.
Silence!!
Not knowing how to react and what to say, I went to the kitchen to make tea; just to find some time and think over this bizarre development.
After about 10 minutes, as I returned with tea and biscuits, I found Mitali lying prone on the bed, her face pressed to the pillow; her body contorting and shaking in agony.
She looked up and said through her bleeding eyes, "Dada is wrong."
Mitali left without touching the tea and my stupid husband was nowhere to be seen. He returned late in the night and tried to make some small talk with me. I did not speak to him. I never could imagine that he could be so ruthless, so unkind; so insensitive.
Monster!
We did not speak for three days.
On the fourth day, Mitali waltzed in like a breeze and she looked blissfully happy. She chimed, “Didi, where is your Darjeeling tea?” and settled down on the bed. I hurried towards the kitchen.
After having her tea in silence, she confided, "Didi!! I am going back to Barasat."
What was this girl saying? I was awestruck. "How come?" I asked with incredulity!
"Didi, the decision was easy," she said simply.
I was totally confused but terribly happy. Maybe, Mitali realised it by the look on my face.
She said, "Didi, that day when I left your house, my life had gone upside down and I did not know what to do and where to go. Slowly, my mind cleared and I asked the driver to take me back to the boutique. You know Didi, this boutique, that had remained my centre of existence for one year suddenly appeared alien. But, I was caught up in work and being busy was an excellent way to pass time and suddenly, it was eight ‘o'clock.
I asked my staff to go home and silently waited for him to come. I knew that he would, my sixth sense was telling me. But he made me wait till nine. I saw him standing in front of the closed door. I opened it and he was shocked to see me and then he smiled.
The first thing, I asked him in a year was, “Do you come every day?” He looked down in embarrassment and nodded.
For one year Didi, he came daily and I never knew. Shame on me!
I asked him to come in. He hesitated and then he stepped in. Can you believe Didi; he opened his shoes outside the door before entering? The same old meagre shoes! Only, this time it was torn too.
He looked around and his face lit up like a child. There was so much pride in his look. The first thing he said was ‘wonderful!'
What was I supposed to say? That I was sorry for having treated him like dirt? I knew he will be surprised if I said sorry because in his eyes I could do nothing wrong!
So, I sat with him on the floor. He carefully inspected the floor tiles and was happy that it too was wonderful.
He kept looking at me. Didi, people say that face mirrors emotions, that day I could see the heart of that man. I could never see the darkness in me.
But I needed to speak before it was too late. I told him that I was returning to Barasat with him. He looked at me with the same genuine surprise, the way you looked at me, a while ago. He was not getting his calculations right. He appeared worried and looked around. This time, I told him firmly that I had already set up a working system here and a good manager would be able to handle everything and we would visit from Barasat on our bike.
Till now he was quiet but, I could feel that he wanted to say something. I held his hands and said, “Say, what you want to.”
He hemmed and hawed and at last, with great difficulty and shame, he said that what I would say to my new partner. I understood what he meant. So, I said that he would be very angry and may even beat us up. The only way to escape was to run away and we must do that immediately. He jumped up and we locked the door and left that night for Shantiniketan on the bike.
We have come back today."
"Where is Sukumar?" I asked.
"He is at the boutique." She said.
I was worried, “Mitu! Has he changed the torn shoes?”
Mitali buried her face in my lap and cried in agony, “Didi, let my Sukumar never change! He will accept his new Mitu, I cannot.”
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I knew my stupid half was back and I was uncomfortable that Mitali would meet him.
I spoke with a bit of urgency, "Mitali, I am really sorry for your Dada's behaviour that day. Sometimes, he goes completely overboard, you know. Tell me, you will forgive him."
Before she could answer, the devil himself entered and alternately stared at Mitali and then me. He quizzically raised his eyebrows and asked me, "Hi Adi! Ask Mitali, what has she decided?"
To my extreme amazement and annoyance, Mitali jumped down the bed and touched Tram's feet and said, "Dada! Thanks for everything."
Then she touched my feet too. I was livid.
WTF, No one bothers to tell me anything around here.
Tram looked at me and said, “Adi darling, the ‘vedas’ say that God blesses a woman with one hundred sons if she gives her monster husband some ‘Lopchu’ tea.”
“Get someone else for that,” I retorted and left for the kitchen, fuming as hell. Vedas or no vedas!
After the tea was over, Tram asked Mitu, “So! What happened at Shantiniketan?”
Mitu remained thoughtful and then said quietly, “Dada, I don’t know what to say. That night we were on the bike for four hours. I felt his nearness within myself as never before. We reached much after midnight. I got the best room for us. Though we were tired, I had decided that I would fill Sukumar with all the love that I had within myself.
Sukumar was lying on one side facing the wall. I slept near him and tried to turn him towards me. He did not move. He kept holding on to the side of the bed. I cried, I requested and I forced him but he did not turn. His hurt, his wound and his frail body made me curse my own inept stone heart.
Dada, I deserved it. But, I promise that I myself will correct the wrongs.
All of a sudden, she got up and said, “Didi, I must go. I will come in the evening. I will bring him along.”
And, she left.
I clutched him with pure trepidation, “What will happen now?”
He slapped me hard on my back, “Don't worry dear, the crisis is over.”
That hurt bad. Senseless chap. Brute!
As promised, Sukumar and Mitali were at our house sharp at 7. For the first time in my life, I looked at Sukumar with love admixed with admiration. Outwardly, there was no change in him. His smile remained omnipresent and omnipotent. Had Mitali not narrated the happenings at Shantiniketan, I would have considered him a great human though a trifle lacking in self-esteem. A person rightfully loved for his simplicity but deficient in his strength to stand up against nonsense.
It was a new Sukumar, I saw and perceived him as such.
The evening moved on smoothly. There was so much to catch up. Most of the discussion centred around the good days. All of us carefully avoided the happenings of the past few days. There was no point in raking up issues once the reconciliation was evident. Still, my mind could not wipe away the unease. Both were comfortable speaking about our association four years back and we too were contented with that.
Sukumar hesitated a bit and blurted out to Tram, “Can I borrow a cigarette? I mean, if you have?”
Tram looked at me and said enthusiastically, “I have left all those bad habits a long time back. But let me buy you one.” And both of them left.
I looked at Mitu. She smiled.
They came back after 20 minutes. Tram was reeking of mint. Bloody liar!!
They stayed back till late in the night. It was time for dinner. As I went to the kitchen, Sukumar followed me. He stood near me, watching me warming the food. After some time, he just said one sentence, “Didi, I am happy.” Just that and I nodded in understanding. He helped me to lay out the plates. My husband was in the living room providing company to Mitali. As we entered the room, we found both of them quiet.
Today, I had no complaints about the menu. It was satisfactory. Sukumar, for the first time that night said something that gladdened me, “Didi, fantastic food. Please come to Barasat before you leave. Mitu is such a good cook, unimaginable!”
Mitu turned beet red.
It was now time for them to leave. After another round of touching the feet etc, they departed.
The old bike was back.
I confronted him at night and said severely, "So it's all your doing. Tell me everything from the beginning, otherwise…." I knew a secret punishment that forced Tram to tell the truth. The process never failed.
It was called ‘big time tickling.'
Tram was magnanimous. He sat with me and held my hand (unnecessarily, I thought) and said, "Two things bothered me from the start. First, the way Sukumar handed the card and rushed away, I knew and it was not difficult to see that he was hiding a terrible pain behind his large smile. He has always been a large-hearted person for whom his own comforts always came last. And the small comforts, wishes and happiness of his wife always took precedence. He loathed to ever complain about anything but when it came to Mitali, he could walk the death, in silence.
This was precisely Sukumar's greatest strength as well as his terrible weakness. He never offered his opinions and over a period of time, Mitali became oblivious to his fine human qualities. And when she decided to move, he did not stop her because he could see that stopping her would destroy her dreams. He silently removed himself from the scene physically but she remained in his heart. He could never tell his Mitu, “Don’t leave!”
Meanwhile, Mitali in her enthusiasm placed all her priorities inside a single basket called the boutique. Sukumar slowly started to fade away from her mind map because he was no longer visible to her. Tragic.
Secondly, why was he at Gariahat at night, so far from Barasat? I studied the card carefully. ‘Mitali creations’ was at Gariahat. Two plus two equals four. Blind love propelled Sukumar to get a glimpse of his wife, but from a distance, each and every day for one year. Amazing.
I found that you were too deeply affected by this estrangement but did not know how to correct the wrong. So, I gave it a try. I specifically searched out the boutique and casually took you there just after Mitali had left. I wrote your name and contact number and assumed that she would call you back.
Fortunately, she responded and visited us. I made a fuss and presented an impression that I was mighty upset with her visit. While interacting with her I suddenly realised that Sukumar had ceased to be of any importance in her life. So, I tried a difficult angle because routine coaxing would not have worked. I started to abuse Sukumar and his motives, so much so that you were disturbed. I wanted to rekindle the goodness of the man in his wife's heart. I fervently hoped that the superior intelligence of Mitali would recognize the motive.
And it did.
The rest is history.
I kept silent. “Do you really think, it’s all over,” I asked after a few moments.
A shadow passed over his face and he said in a hushed tone, “I hope so. But who knows?”
I was alarmed by his voice, “Why so? What is the problem?”
He looked outside the window into the darkness and said, “The process of rebuilding will not be easy. There will be too many pitfalls, too many challenges. The string that held them with strength is no longer intact. It’s broken. Can be mended but it will never be the old one.”
“You understand what I am saying?” He added, after an awkward moment.
I nodded. I knew it all along. There was no point in asking but I could not resist. Better out than in.
“Do you think Mitu cheated on Sukumar?”
Tram juggled the question and after a pause said, “Your guess is as good as mine. Only she knows the truth and it is for Sukumar to either take cognizance of or to overlook.”
Then he turned towards me and asked, “Do you think, it’s relevant? What do you think? Has Mitali cheated on Sukumar and is now repenting or has she just simply made a mistake in her zeal to succeed but did not cheat?”
“She just made a mistake, that’s all,” I replied with a force of belief that was deep within me and I did accept it as true.
Tram looked at me strangely, “How could you be so sure?”
I was sure and so I replied, “Being a woman myself, I can feel it. A woman loses the most when she gets into a new relationship. She is compelled to rework everything. She is virtually forced to explain everything afresh, shape new frontiers, answer funny questions, rebuild trust and mind you, the man never takes her on face value! For her, it is always an uphill task. Cheating is not a choice for her ever. Mitu would never choose that possibility!”
“Anything else.” He plodded on, sporting a mean smile on his lips.
“Yes,” I said.
“Unlike the man, she has to submit her body to a new person. This is not easy because it has such wide ramifications. You men will just move away after poking your tool. What do you care? For you men, it is just another pastime. Not for a woman.” I was getting angrier.
“Fine, fine. By your definition then, Sukumar is also a man and he must have been having a good time while Mitali was away.” Tram poked.
I was in no mood for any banter. With great difficulty, I was controlling my temper, “Look, there is no need to extrapolate Sukumar’s case in here. He is besotted with Mitu and he loves her like mad. I hope you have that much intelligence to understand that.”
Tram remained irritatingly persistent, “But how can you be so sure? Just because he looks meek and has been visiting Mitu’s boutique secretly or just because you like him is no guarantee that he was celibate all this time!”
Completely aghast, I shouted, “I know because I have known him for years and not everyone is made from the same mould. He is different, I know it.”
Tram was peaceful, “Adi, you know what? When the argument is weak, the voice gets stronger! Your argument is neither strong nor correct just because you are shouting. In a court of law, it will be thrown to the garbage as hearsay. It’s junk and you know that.”
That was the last straw, infuriated, I cried in extreme annoyance, “What do you know of trust and faith? Look who is talking? Look at yourself, your own filth!!”
He continued to smirk at me and then, I hit him. With all my might and he made no efforts to protect himself. Like a statue. Head down.
What did I do? I had promised, not to bring up his past ever. Never ever again!
The Rubicon was crossed beyond redemption, I walked to him. He was sitting, eyes downcast. I embraced his head to my breasts and whispered, “I am sorry. I did not mean it. Why did you provoke me?”
He looked up and said, “Thanks, Adi. You have forgiven me too easily in the past and I do not deserve it. Every time you bring it up and punish me, you would exorcise me of my crime. If that needs provocation, let it be. Thank you.”
And then he continued, “Mitu and Sukumar and you are better persons than I am. I am happy that I could help them.”
Embarrassed beyond limits, quietly I whispered, “Suppose Sukumar had not come that night to the boutique?”
He flashed his enigmatic smile and said, “No chance!! I only asked Sukumar to visit at nine and told Mitali to wait. Of course, separately."
"You could have told me," I said, partially in anger and partially in relief.
Tram looked at me and said, "This could have gone horribly wrong, Adi. Mitali could have been convinced of her being correct simply because of my melodrama. And you would have felt worse."
"Touch and go," it was.
"Do you know that I felt like killing you when you said all those horrible things about Sukumar, if only I had a gun!" I spoke in despair.
"I know, I know. But no bullet can kill me," he said with utter calmness.
"Why so?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Because, I have a bullet-proof jacket," he said inspirationally.
I was taken aback, "Bullet-proof jacket! Where? I have never seen it."
The stupid fellow pulled me towards him, all the while caressing my lips with his fingers and whispered, "My Adi is my bullet-proof jacket. No bullet has the capacity to ever reach me."
I was holding him with all my might and I realised something, I whispered back, “you are hard!”
He kissed me and said, “And my Adi is wet.”
“Shall we,” I queried?
“Of course, why not?” he said.
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