The big white bungalow in Ahmedabad felt utterly tranquil from outside but contained chaos inside as Vishakha Somani raged and sulked alternately at her father’s silence. It had been like this ever since Jaiprakhash Maheshwari came back from Mumbai a day ago. Munshiji had picked him up from the airport, and once he had reached home the first disturbance had presented when Vishakha had asked the reason for his trip. He had refused to divulge any reason, just saying that he wanted to visit his grandson as his last trip was cut short. She had accused him of partiality, claiming he favoured Sameer more than Rohan and Deepika. He had told her that she was overthinking things, and that he loved all his grandchildren equally. Then the second commotion had started when Ramdhari had asked if he should serve dinner, and he had refused saying that he already ate in flight. Naturally, Vishakha had enquired about it as he had never eaten anything in flight no matter how late it was. He informed her that had a packed tiffin of homemade masala vegetable rice. Vishakha had scoffed, “bol toh aise rahe hai jaise apne ladle navase ke ghar se pack kiya ho. Koi hotel me se karwake laaye honge.”
Nanu had taken great pleasure in informing, “Sameer ke ghar se hi tiffin pack hua tha. Ekdum tasty khana tha.”
Ignoring his daughter’s indignation he had went off to his room to freshen up and sleep. He had noticed Rohan and Deepika standing to the side, not saying much, and had wondered if something had happened behind his back. He thought he would talk to them tomorrow, and informed Sameer of his safe arrival before dozing off.
Next morning had started on a similar note, with Vishakha repeatedly pestering him about his Mumbai trip. Her ire increased when Rohan insisted that Ramdhari prepare aloo-paratha for Nanu even though paneer paratha was being cooked for everyone else. She tried once more as breakfast was served, “Papa… ab bata bhi dijiye. Itna kya secret hai.”
Jaiprakash Maheshwari was now irritated, “kyun pareshan kar rahi ho Vishakha? Tumhe kya lagta hai main kyun gaya tha?”
Vishakha scowled, “mujhe kya pata kya woh ladka aapko kya patti pada raha hai…”
His anger started to rise, and he stated firmly, “woh ladka? Uska naam Sameer Jaiprakash Maheshwari hai. Aur woh tumhara beta ho na ho, mera pota zaroor hai. Aage se uska naam izzat se lena…”
Vishakha was shocked at the reprimand from her father. Rohan bit his lip to hide his smile, and then piped up, “Nanaji… Aapne photo dekhi?”
Nanu looked away from her daughter, “photo?”
Rohan grinned, “haan… bhai ki photo… interview wali. Maine laga di.”
Nanu’s eyes widened, “office me?”
Rohan nodded. “haan… office ke main lobby me aur yahan ghar pe study room me hai. Ab jab papa apne clients ko le aayenge ghar me toh unko SJM ka photo dikhega meeting karte hue. Kitna achcha impression padega hamare business pe, haina?”
Vivek, who was sipping his tea, huffed, “achcha impression? Sabko pata hai Sameer kaisa hai… Bachpan se school me nakamyab… EK saal bhi top 5 me nahi aaya. College me aaya toh London ghumne nikal liya. Aur rahi baat business ki toh ban gaya hoga chota-mota businessman kismat se… Mehnat karneki neeyat aur business ki samajh toh usme hai nahi.”
Vishakha agreed, “bilkul sahi keh rahe hai Vivek aap. Sameer ne sirf parivaar ke paise hi udaye hai… Konsa kabhi hamare liye kuch kiya hai. Aur ab bada businessman banne ka natak kar raha hai.”
Rohan shook his head, “mummy, papa… aap dono theek toh hai? I mean… Poore India me koi aisa insaan nahi hoga jo bhai ko chota-mota businessman bolega. SJM is… I don’t know how to explain… SJM is a brand…”
“Rehne do Rohan”, Nanu patted his shoulder, “tum breakfast khao.”
Rohan sighed, taking one paneer and one aloo paratha on his plate, and Deepika took one aloo paratha, just like Nanu did. Vishakha queried, “tum dono kyun aloo paratha le rahe ho?”
“I like aloo paratha… Canteen me bhi khati hun”, Deepika piped up. Rohan added, “mujhe taste karna hai wapas.”
However, after just a moment, Nanu scrunched his nose, “yeh kaisa paratha banaya hai…”
Ramdhari who had come with another round of tea, asked, “kyun sahab? Kya hua?”
“Taste theek nahi hai”, Nanu mused, “aloo ka ubla hua swaad aa raha hai sirf. Aur thodi mirch.”
Ramdhari replied, “dhaniya bhi hai sahab.” Nanu glared at him, and he looked bashful, “aise hi toh banta hai aloo paratha.”
Deepika agreed, “haan, canteen me bhi aisa hi banta hai. Ispe ketchup lagake khaneka.”
Rohan pushed aside the paratha after taking one bite, “yeh hi uble hue taste ke wajah se mujhe pasand nahi. Samose jaisa ya vadapav jaisa hota hai toh phir bhi aloo kha leta hun.”
Nanu shook his head, “nahi… aisa taste nahi hota.”
Vishaka taunted, “aapko kaise pata hoga kaisa taste hota hai? Aapko khana banana thodi na aata hai.”
Nanu narrowed his eyes as he retorted, “banana nahi aata lekin khana aata hai. Abhi thode din pehle hi khaya Sameer ke ghar pe.”
Ramdhari excitedly pitched in, “toh Sameer baba ko phone karke puch lijiye na kaise banate hai. Main bhi waise hi banake khilaunga. Tab shayad Rohan baba ko bhi achcha lage.”
Vishakha let out a short laugh, “as if Sameer ko khana banana aata hoga… Hamesha usko khana bana banaya mila hai. Ghar pe bhi, aur hostel…”
“Aata hai”, Nanu interrupted, “Sameer ko khana banana aata hai. Shayad sab kuch nahi lekin kaafi kuch aata hai. Aur haan Vishakha… tumse toh zyada baar hi Sameer kitchen me jaata hai.” Looking at Ramdhari he said, “achcha idea hai. Main aaj phone karke recipe puch lunga.”
Ramdhari asked, “Rohan baba… Aaj lunch bhijwau?”
Rohan shook his head, “nahi… Nanaji itne dino baad wapas aaye hai toh aaj main unhe lunch pe bahar le jaunga.”
Vishakha scolded him lightly, “yeh roz roz bahar khane ka silsila kyun chalu kiya hai? Tumhe yaad nahi hai tum kitne asaani se bimar ho jaate ho.”
Rohan smiled placatingly, “c’mon mummy. Hamesha se hi toh ghar pe hi khata hun. Itne saal ho gaye Ahmedabad aaye, kuch explore hi nahi kiya.”
Vishakha muttered something about unruly behavior and bad influence under her breath. After breakfast was done Vivek Somani left for office, while Rohan and Nanu went to the temple first as was their routine to begin a week, and then went to office. When it was time for lunch, true to his word, Rohan took him out to a nearby restaurant. After placing their order, Nanu queried, “yeh achanak lunch plan kyun? Kuch baat karni thi?”
Rohan shook his head, “nahi… aisa kuch nahi hai. Aap nahi the tab kaafi din maine aur Deepika ne bahar hi khaya hai.”
Nanu was puzzled, “kyun?”
“I don’t know”, Rohan frowned a bit in confusion, “mujhe bhai ne kaha tha ke ghar pe jo bhi kha raha hun uspe thoda dhyan du aur Deepika ke khane pe bhi. Unhone hi kaha ke ho sake toh jab tak aap wapas nahi aate tab tak hum kam se kam ghar ka khana khaye.”
Nanu was intrigued, “Sameer? Usne tumhe yeh sab kaha? Usne baat ki tumse?”
A smile lit up Rohan’s face as he nodded, “haan. Aap Mumbai gaye weekend pe, aur Monday ko bhai ka call aaya tha. Unhone Deepika ke health ke baare me pucha, aur phir kaha ke main uske aur apne khane pe dhyan du kuch din aur ho sake toh ghar pe zyada na khau. Mujhe samajh nahi aaya ke kyun aisa bole woh, lekin maine promise kiya ke woh jaisa bolenge main karunga. Aapko pata hai Nanaji, unhone mujhe apne mobile number bhi diya, aur mera mobile number bhi liya… Kaha ab se uspe baat karenge.”
Nanu’s eyes kept widening as he heard his grandson, his astonishment reflected in his voice as he asked, “mobile number? Baat karega woh?”
“Haan, kyun nahi? Bhai ne hi mujhe sabse pehle SMS bheja tha, Monday raat ko hi”, Rohan gleefully informed, “aur uske baad maine phone bhi kiya tha 3-4 baar. Deepika ne bhi baat ki. Aur bhai ne usko permission bhi di hai ke woh apne college me sabko bata sakti hai ke SJM uska bhai hai.”
Nanu stayed silent as the waiter brought the food; Rohan served for both, and they started to eat. After a few bites Nanu queried, “Sameer jo bhi karta hai uske peeche koi na koi wajah hoti hai. Usne tum dono ko ghar pe khane se mana kiya uske peeche bhi koi wajah hogi.”
Rohan nodded, “I thought so as well. Lekin pata nahi kya wajah hai… Anyways, achcha hi hua hum bahar kha rahe the. Aap Mumbai gaye hue the toh mummy bahot irritated thi. Ghar pe bilkul achcha nahi lagta tha. Lekin bahar khake ghar jaate the tab bhi mummy chidti thi.”
Nanu wondered what the reason behind this sudden ask of watching what they ate could be. Was he worried that Rohan or Deepika would eat something by mistake and again land up in hospital, thus cutting his trip short? Or was Sameer also thinking along the lines of what Naina had hinted to him on his previous trip? Was what happened to Deepika deliberate? And what about Rohan falling sick earlier during his first visit to Mumbai? Was someone deliberately feeding them things they were allergic to? But who could do that? Ramdhari had been working in this house since so many years, he even took care of his medicines, then how could he do something like this to the children? And if it wasn’t Ramdhari, then who else? Vishakha? No no… What was he thinking? Vishakha was their mother… Granted, that she didn’t like Sameer that much for some reason, but she thought the world about Rohan and Deepika. She can’t harm a hair on their head. Maybe Sameer’s precautions were just that – precautions. Maybe his phone call had ensured that Rohan and Deepika would take extra care and wouldn’t eat something they shouldn’t. Maybe what happened all these years was just a coincidence. Nanu tried desperately to convince himself that Sameer’s precaution didn’t mean anything, but somewhere deep inside him he knew there was something more going on… Maybe it was just Sameer’s doubt, or maybe… just maybe… he was actually acting like this because of something he knew. But what?
While Nanu deliberated over several things, on the other hand in Mumbai, Sameer and Naina were at the airport, checking in their luggage. Sameer thought of days when he used to travel alone, a small carry-on luggage as he rushed through the security check-in, spending most of his time on phone with Aman, and spending the time in flight as his only resting time. With the addition of Naina as his traveling companion so many things had changed. Instead of a small carry-on luggage, they had a big suitcase, common one between them that had been meticulously packed with properly pressed clothes, shoes and sandals, night wears, some light winter wear as the weather was supposedly still cold in Kolkata, make-up and skincare, as well as some medicines in case someone needed it. He was carrying a duffel bag that was packed light with a shawl that Naina might need in flight, a packet of saltine crackers in case she was nauseous, camera with extra reels, mobile chargers, a set of sunglasses for them, and one set of clothes each as Naina had this unusual worry about their luggage being misplaced or lost in transit. She was also carrying a small sling bag that contained a comb, lip balm and some other things that were apparently essential for women. All in all, Sameer had never been happier about traveling more than today.
Naina nervously watched the airport staff tag their luggage and then drop it onto a conveyor belt that would take it God knows where. Then Sameer tugged her up to the security check-in where he grabbed a tray and placed his mobile and wallet in it. Her small sling also went in the tray, while the duffel bag was kept as it is. She stood there watching the proceedings with curious eyes, but then Sameer handed over her boarding pass and asked her to queue up in the ladies’ line for screening. She nervously looked at the queue, “wahan kya check karenge?”
He smiled, “bas metal detector se tumhe check karenge ke kuch chupaya toh nahi hai.”
She scrunched her nose, leaning closer to mumble in low voice, “ajeeb hai sab… aur yeh samaan? Aise mobile aur wallet khula pada hua hai… what if someone steals?”
“No one will steal”, he assured in equally low voice, “it’s normal. Don’t worry. Main wahan dusre side tumhara wait karunga, okay?”
She took a deep fortifying breath and nodded, moving away from her husband to queue up. As she looked around, she noticed there were seven queues for men but only one for women, it seemed a bit unfair to her. Naturally the men’s queue would move faster as there were several of them. But then again, there were so less women who were traveling. Despite the fact there was only one queue, there were only ten women in-front of her, and two joined behind her, making a total of thirteen. She frowned slightly at this, thinking how women lacked the independence in the smallest of matters, and decided that if her baby was a girl she would raise her to be strong minded and independent.
Once she got to the other side of the small cabin where the woman guard scanned her with a hand-held device, her eyes immediately searched for her husband. In just few seconds she saw him, in a group surrounding the end of the conveyor belt, so she waited to the side. In a minute he had snagged up the duffel bag and her purse in one hand, while holding his phone and wallet in other. She saw him glance around before his gaze zeroed in on her and he moved towards her, his eyes scanning her from top to bottom just like the security device, but while the device checked for prohibited items, his eyes checked for any signs of discomfort. She offered him a smile as she accepted her sling purse from him, and once he had stuffed his mobile and wallet in his pocket, she held his hand, “maine kabhi airport nahi dekha isse pehle… thoda ghume?”
He smiled indulgently at her, “haan… kuch khana hai?”
Her eyes lit up at that, but then they narrowed suspiciously, “tum bahar khane se mana karte ho mujhe. Aaj kya hua?”
“Darling”, he drawled, “hum trip pe jaa rahe hai. Ghar ka khana waise bhi nahi milne wala. And I don’t stop you from eating anything, I just want you to eat healthy hygienic food.”
She hummed, her cheeks still pink from the endearment he used, “hmm… ghumke dekhte hai kya kha sakte hai.”
Hand-in-hand they walked around the airport, stopping at a pop-up stall that was selling silver jewellery, and she exclaimed at the marked-up prices while he clarified that it was normal for things to be expensive inside the airport. But he added, “tumhe pasand aaya toh le lete hai na. Kya farq padta hai?”
She retorted, “jaanti hun tum ameer ho, lekin fizul ka kharcha karneka kya fayda. Jab yahi cheez bahar isse kam daam me mile toh airport se kharidna zaroori nahi hai. Waise bhi hum ghum rahe hai, shopping nahi kar rahe… Chalo.”
He followed her tug, as they wandered around the area, until she spotted a shop selling tea, coffee, sandwiches and some baked goods. They perused the menu displayed, and she asked, “puff kha sakti hun? Kaafi time ho gaya hai khaye hue. Ahmedabad me khaya tha, jab school me thi.”
He looked surprised at this, and immediately agreed asking which one she wanted. She chose a butter puff, while Sameer chose the one with cheese. In solidarity with her, he didn’t take any tea, despite her insistence. He flicked her nose, “chalega… baad me juice dekhte hai kahin mile toh.”
They grabbed a couple of chairs at the nearest gate, and ate their puff, offering each other a bite of their own. She smiled in satisfaction as she licked the crumbs off her lips. He adored the sight of her enjoying such a simple treat and asked if she wanted one more. She shook her head, “nahi… mujhe risk nahi lena. Abhi kha lungi aur flight me problem hui toh?”
He hummed, “okay… let’s go find something to drink. Aur chinta mat karo… ab mujhe pata chal gaya ke tumhe puff pasand hai, toh main Mumbai me zaroor khilaunga tumhe.”
Her bright smile seemed to warm every pore of his body, and he linked their fingers, roaming around to find something suitable for her to drink. There weren’t any fresh juice shops, but from one shop they found some flavoured milk, which was full of sugar, but they decided to share a bottle. After that they went to the designated gate for their flight and sat down. Given that they had spent a lot of time wandering about, there wasn’t much time left for the boarding to start. Sameer talked to Aman for a bit, and then once boarding was announced they were almost the first as Sameer had booked the most premium seats available worried about Naina’s comfort and health. Once seated, he helped her with the seatbelt and then settled beside her, ready for the journey.
She looked out of the window, startling a bit, as the airplane started to taxi, but then quickly settled down. She remembered how she and Preeti would play on the terrace, and sometimes the sound of a flying plane would grab their attention, prompting them to keep their doll aside in favour of gazing at the sky. The tradition to watch planes from their terrace continued well into their teenage, and Naina would dream of flying like that one day. She would say, “aisa lagta hoga na jaise pankh mil gaye.”
And Preeti would tease, “sambhalke… udte hue koi pankh na kaat de.”
It would lead to Naina swatting Preeti, both of them giggling and running around the terrace, until they would be out of breath. When her marriage to Manav had been fixed, Preeti had said, “jiju ko bolungi tujhe honeymoon pe plane me le jaaye. Tere sapne toh utne me hi poore ho jayenge.”
She had rolled her eyes, and blushed, internally wondering if really her dream would come true. Now she looked at Sameer, a small smile curving her lips as she thought that indeed it was Preeti’s jiju who was fulfilling her dream. He noticed her stare, and asked, “kya hua? darr lag raha hai?”
She offered her hand to him, and he held it in a comforting grip, as the plane leaped into the air, “nahi… socha tha shayad darr lagega, lekin aisa kuch nahi hua.”
He grinned, “my brave wife…”
She blushed, turning her head to look at out the window, amazed at how distant the ground already was. Once the flight stabilized, the crew started the food and beverage service. However, they both refused the food, only accepting the water. Naina spent the whole flight either looking outside the window, or reading the in-flight magazine, while Sameer indulged himself in looking at his wife or at his own magazine. As soon as the descent began, she held his hand again, her gaze fixed at the window, while he rubbed his thumb over the back of her palm enjoying that she had stopped feeling any hesitation in holding onto him.
Naina stood looking around the airport with curious eyes, the difference in people already glaring. There were many families dressed up almost in similar kind of fluffy sweaters or mufflers, the language sounded so different and a man near her was talking on phone at rapid fast speed, the few staff members at the airport were standing in a group lost in their own discussion rather then moving around and checking. As Sameer grabbed their luggage, and they moved out to the exit, they were immediately accosted by a large group of men, mostly dressed in plain shirts, in varying age group of 20s to few who were quite possibly in their 50s. Naina blinked, moving closer to Sameer at the unexpected proximity of so many men. He looped an around her shoulders pulling her close, and looked around. Very soon, a man dressed in blue tucked in shirt and black trousers hurried up to them, “sir… I am Barun. Welcome to Kolkata…”
Sameer nodded, “hello Barun.” The man who seemed to be in his early-twenties, took their luggage and then snapped at the surrounding group of men, “uff… soro ektu. Jayga ta din. Sir taxi nebenna. Nijer gaadi achche. Sorun sorun…”
Barun guided them to a sleek silver car, holding the door open for the couple to sit, and then loaded their bag in the trunk. Once on the road, the man asked if they would like to go to hotel directly or stop for some food anywhere. Sameer enquired, “hotel ke aas paas khane-peene ka kuch hai?”
“Bahot kuch hai sir”, Barun happily informed, “Dharamtala is very famous for food and shopping.”
Sameer glanced at his wife who was engrossed in taking in the sights outside, “Naina… Tabiyat theek hai na? Hotel me khana hai ya bahar kisi restaurant me chale?”
She smiled, “main theek hun… bas thodi thakan lag rahi hai ab. Aur pair me dard ho raha hai… Aaj hotel me hi kha le?”
Sameer nodded and instructed Barun to take them directly to the hotel. The Fairlawn Hotel was a colonial bungalow built in 1783 and transformed into a hotel in 1936. It could be considered a heritage hotel, with its colonial era inspired architecture, the Victorian furniture, and the white and black tiled floor. Earlier Aman had suggested a hotel closer to airport, an elegant building with modern facilities perfectly suitable for business trips. However, given that Naina was traveling with him he had wanted a more relaxed vibe and a place where they could venture outside to experience things. Any hotel close to airport would likely be close to highway rather than community or markets. When Aman had brought pictures of Fairlawn Hotel from a touring company, he had been instantly charmed with the luxurious look coupled with homely feel, and had enquired about the place it was located in. Esplanade was a bustling community and Dharamtala was known for shopping and street food. It seemed to be perfect, and so he had asked Aman to go ahead a book for 2 nights for now. If they felt the place was comfortable and to their liking, Sameer would extend the booking. Anyways, he had plans after their 2-night stay, something Naina didn’t know yet. But he had had a feeling Naina was going to enjoy the plans he had made.
Once they reached the hotel the staff helped them take the luggage, and Sameer exchanged numbers with Barun, instructing that he would let him know about when to pick them up tomorrow. Their room was larger than the bedroom at home, and comprised of a huge bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and 2 big armchairs kept around a small coffee table behind which they had a folding wooden door leading to the balcony. The bathroom was big and clean. Naina seemed fascinated with the design of the balcony door, “maine pehle kabhi aisa darwaja nahi dekha.”
He came up beside her, “maine hotels me toh nahi dekha pehle, lekin Kolkata me yeh common hai. Kaafi gharo me khidki pe bhi aise door hote hai. Kyunki purane gharo me khidkiya bahot badi hoti hai.”
She considered this, “tum kitni baar aa chuke ho yahan?”
“Isse pehle do baar”, Sameer mentioned, “first time jisse mila tha tasar aur katha ke baare me janne wahi mujhe thoda yahan wahan le gaya tha. Aur uske apne ghar bhi le gaya tha. Wahi pe maine dekha aise door.”
She asked, “aur dusri baar?”
He stepped out, looking at the bustling road, “kahin nahi gaya tha ghumne. Bas do din ke liye hi tha. Kaam khatam kiya aur wapas Mumbai. Tab Banarasi aur Jamdani ke baare me janna tha.”
She looked interested, “iss baar konsi saree ke baare me janne aaye ho?”
He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “surprise hai. Do din baad pata chalega.”
Her eyes widened, “kya matlab do din baad? Tab tak tum kaam nahi karoge?”
“Karunga”, he informed, “ek supplier hai yahan pe usse milna hai parso subah. Lekin kal pure din free hun. Tum batao kya karna hai kal… Plan banaya hai kuch.”
Her eyes lit up, “haan… museum jaana hai, aur Victoria memorial, St. paul’s cathedral… mujhe howrah bridge bhi dekhna hai. Aur Dacre’s Lane me khana hai. Bengali cuisine me bahot kuch hota hai… I want to try.”
Sameer was entranced at the way the surrounding city lights gilded her face in a soft glow, and the way the few loose strands of her hair danced in the wind. His smile was indulgent as he asked, “kya khana hai tumhe Bengali food me? I don’t know kitne veg options milenge. Maine kabhi try nahi kiya.”
She tilted her head, “umm… tum egg khate ho na?”
He nodded, “haan… main chicken aur fish bhi kha leta hun…” Her eyes widened and he hastily added, “London me start kiya tha. India wapas aaneke baad bahot kam ho gaya hai… Ab toh bas kabhi clients ke saath hota hun tab shayad… Lekin tum tension mat lo… Tumhe pasand nahi toh nahi khaunga.”
She shook her head, “nahi… woh baat nahi hai. Pehle kabhi baat nahi ki iss baare me toh main bata nahi paai… ummm… main bhi… main bhi khati hun.”
He frowned, “eggs?”
She nodded, “haan… aur chicken bhi. Ahmedabad me thi tab kuch bhi nahi khati thi… ande bhi nahi. Lekin Mumbai me college me friends bane toh… I don’t know… I just didn’t want to be the same girl I was in Ahmedabad… Isiliye unke saath jab bahar khane jaati thi tab dheere dheere sab explore karne lagi.”
He was surprised, “fish bhi khati ho?”
She wrinkled her nose, “khaya hai… fish aur prawns… lekin kabhi kabhi smell aati hai. Smell nahi aa rahi ho toh achcha lagta hai.”
“Wow”, he breathed, “mujhe toh pata hi nahi tha. Warna roz boiled egg start karwa deta khane ke saath. Dr. Suchitra ne kaha tha ke protein zaroori hai.”
She chuckled, “I don’t think main kha paati. Library ke paas ek stall hai jahan eggs bante hai… lekin mujhe smell se bhi ulti aa jaati thi. Ab fourth month start hua hai toh nausea kam hua hai… Uss din yaad hai market gaye the tab kisike ande ka pura bag neeche gir gaya tha, aur saare ande tut gaye?” He nodded, and she added, “tab mujhe kuch feel nahi hua smell se. Isiliye socha ke shayad Kolkata me try kar saku.”
He grinned, “perfect idea. Waise bhi yahan jitni non-veg food ki varieties milti hogi, I don’t think kahin bhi aur milega India me. Mujhe bhi kaafi din ho gaye khaye hue. We will ask Barun for recommendations.”
She agreed, “okay. Chalo filhaal abhi dinner ke liye toh order kar do kuch.”
The weather was windy and turning to be bit colder even now, when it was close to just 8pm. They perused the in-room dining menu together, and chose tomato soup, rice, home-style masur dal, aloo-gobi sabji, and something called shorse-dherosh, which Sameer explained was okra made with mustard paste. Naina was excited to try the new dish, and excitedly chattered about the food items she had read about in a magazine that she and Nanu had apparently read one afternoon. Sameer somehow managed to put a temporary stop to her food rant and sent her off to the bathroom to freshen up. He chuckled fondly as he took out his own clothes, and the slippers he had packed for them to wear inside the hotel room. He was sure the floor would be cold, and he was right. He didn’t want Naina to fall sick. He also took out her skincare kit and placed it on the bedside table.
Naina came out of the bathroom dressed in a soft pink pyjama set, and carrying the clothes she had worn in flight in her hand. Earlier she had taken out all her new salwar-kameez to wear on the trip and even at the airport, but Sameer had convinced her not to do so. In the last week he had started to notice a bit of discomfort when she would we wearing salwar-kameez or saree at home just because Nanu was living with them. He had asked her one night, and she had mentioned that the skin around her stomach was itching, which as per the doctor was normal as her stomach would be stretching as her child grew inside. Salwar and Petticoat was usually tight which caused the skin to irritate more, causing more than usual discomfort. She had confided that elastic-based pants with t-shirts were the most comfortable for her and she had gotten a few sets when she had left bua-dadi’s home. The day after Nanu had left, he had taken her shopping once more, and they had purchased some cotton pants both in loose wider flares and slim fit style, around five new t-shirts, two long skirt-top sets, and two maxi dresses that seemed to catch her eye. He had also added some pyjama sets, a size bigger than her real size, telling her it would feel comfortable to sleep in.
The soft pink shade that she was wearing now was his absolute favourite as it seemed to bring out the natural blush of her cheeks. As his eyes lingered on her, she bit her lip, her eyes brightening at his perusal, and her voice was slightly breathy as she asked, “yeh kapdo kya karein? Wapas bag me rakhe?”
He shook his head, “nahi… cupboard me dekho laundry bag hoga. Usme rakh do. Kal hotel wale le jayenge dhone.”
She moved to the wardrobe as he entered the bathroom for a quick shower. Slipping her feet into the slippers Sameer had laid out for her, she sat down on the bed and opened the kit. Given the cold weather, she lathered generous amount of cream on her face, hands and foot; combed her long hair tying a low bun and kept the small tub of lipbalm aside to use later. Once Sameer came out, she offered the cream to him as well, and he obliged applying much lesser quantity than she had used.
Soon, dinner arrived, and the staff placed the items on the coffee table. The tomato soup was perfectly spiced and smooth, the croutons lending a delicious crunch. The dal was truly home-style, utterly simple in its preparation and paired perfectly with the aloo-gobi that tasted different than what they usually prepared at home. The okra in mustard paste had such a unique flavor that Naina licked off the remnants of the gravy with her fingers straight from the serving bowl. Replete, she sat back and closed her eyes, humming in delight, and declared, “I think I am in love.”
Sameer choked on a sip of water, “what?”
She cracked open one eye, too lazy to move much, “with the food… kitna tasty hai.”
He shook his head, wiping his mouth, “just my luck… my wife fell in love with the food instead of me…”
She chuckled, “Sameer… yeh sab khana Mumbai me kyun nahi milta?”
“I don’t know darling”, he laughed, “shayad isiliye kyunki Mumbai me Maharashtrian khana zyada popular hai.”
She huffed, “kahin toh Bengali restaurant hoga. I will ask Poonam to check with her roommate.”
He stacked the plated on the tray, picking them up to place outside, “or maybe we could learn to cook the food we like.”
She waited as he opened the door and placed the tray outside, then went to the bathroom to wash-up, and once he came back, she asked, “kahan se seekhe? Mumbai me thodi na koi sikhayega.”
He smiled, “let’s see… utho ab… haath-muh dho lo. Let’s make plans for tomorrow and then sleep.”
The promise of more delicious food tomorrow made her finally leave the comfort of the armchair to wash-up, but soon she was snuggled against the pillows with the blanket covering her legs. He asked, “mandir kal jaana hai ya parso?”
“Kal hi jaake aate hai. Mangalvaar hai, achcha din hai”, she suggested, “parso subah sunrise dekh sakte hai phir.”
He nodded, “theek hai. Yahan se around ek ghanta lagega pahonchne me. Let’s be ready to leave at 7am or 7:30am. Darshan karke phir wahin pe aas-paas kahin kuch local breakfast kar lenge. Phir hotel wapas aa jayenge. Thoda rest karke, then yahan paas wala market ghum lenge, aur phir Park Street chalenge.”
She agreed, “Dharamtala ke market me fuchka aur rolls achche milte hai padha hai maine. Toh lunch me wahi…”
He shook his head in resignation, “okay… but main check karunga pehle ke hygienic hai ke nahi. Okay?”
She happily nodded, “park street me kya hai? Tum gaye ho isse pehle?”
“Clubs, bars, restaurants hai mainly”, he informed, “it’s very posh… shopping karne ki bhi kaafi jagah hai. Tumhe achcha lagega. Dinner bhi wahi karenge. Phir Barun ko bolunga Howrah bridge ka night view dikhane le chale.”
She frowned, “night view? Maine toh suna hai woh subah zyada achcha dikhta hai.”
He shrugged, “subah bhi dekh lenge kisi din. Don’t worry… Aaye hai toh achche se ghumenge. Aur car hai toh tension nahi hai… Warna mujhe tumhari tabiyat ki tension rehti hamesha.”
She smiled, “itni chinta mat karo. I am fine. Jao ab tum Barun ko inform kar do.”
He ventured out in the balcony to talk to Barun, and she did a quick trip to the bathroom. After confirming the timings for tomorrow, Sameer closed the balcony door carefully, turned on the fan at low speed, and slipped inside the blankets, flicking off the master switch and turning on the low night light. Naina shuffled a bit beside him, and then turned to face him, calling in a low voice, “Sameer.”
He turned his head towards her, “hmmm?”
“Thank you”, she softly murmured, “mujhe tumhare saath yahan laane ke liye. I know ke mere bina aate tum toh kaam jaldi jaldi kar lete aur chutti bhi nahi leni padti tumhe. Meri wajah se tumhara time aur paise dono zyada spend ho rahe ha… lekin phir bhi tumne mujhe wahan akele nahi choda. Thank you so much.”
He turned towards her, wrapping an arm around her waist and inching slightly closer, “sweetheart… you are my wife. I love you. Mere life ki sabse first priority tum ho. Tumhare liye hamesha mere paas waqt hoga aur tumhare upar mere kamaye hue saare paise kharch kar sakta hun main… Tumhe wahan akele chodne ka toh option tak nahi aaya tha man me. And it will always be like that… Haan shayad 1-2 din ke koi chote trips ho kabhi… lekin jitna possible hoga main hamesha yahin chahunga ke tum mere saath chalo.”
She stayed silent absorbing what he said, and then lifted a bit, placing a lingering kiss on his cheek. His breath hitched, and warmth spread through is body, an electrifying sensation running up his spine and incredibly enough his cheeks heated under her touch as if he was blushing. He fervently thanked the darkness, as it meant his blush was not noticeable. She shifted closer, and he offered his other arm to her to sleep on, which she did. He sighed in contentment as he wrapped his wife up in his arms and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Naina dressed up in her cherry red saree, pairing it with a soft cream sweater, and cream flats. Sameer was dressed in jeans and checkered green flannel shirt. Barun arrived at 7am, and they left by 7:15am. There wasn’t much traffic, and people outside were wrapped up in sweater, shawl and some even wearing monkey caps. Sameer asked Barun if there was any place near the temple to eat as they would like to have breakfast after darshan, and he assured that they could try the most famous breakfast of West Bengal, kachori-sabji, freshly made just outside the temple premises.
Intrigued, Naina asked, “sach me Varunji? Mujhe toh laga kachori sabji sirf Rajasthan me khate hai subah breakfast me.”
The man immediately corrected, “Varun nahi madam… Barun.”
Naina was confused, “ek hi toh baat haina?”
“Meaning ek hi hai madam”, Barun informed, “lekin Bangla language me V nahi hota. V ke jagah B use karte hai.”
She was intrigued by this, “lekin yahan Victoria Memorial kitna famous hai.”
“Haan hai toh”, he agreed, “lekin Bangali me hum Bictoria Memorial bolte hai.”
She giggled, “theek hai… main dhyan rakhungi Barunji.”
The man smiled, “dhanyobaad madam. Aur haan, idhar ka kachori sabji alag hota hai. Rajasthan me kachori… what do I say… kadak hota hai.”
Sameer corrected, “kadak nahi khasta. Crispy.”
Barun nodded, “yes… Crispy. Kolkata me it is like luchi… soft.”
Sameer was puzzled, “luchi?”
Naina informed, “puri ko luchi kehte hai Bengali me. Yaad hai maine bataya tha Poonam ke roommate ne luchi-aloo dum bhijwaya tha.”
Barun happily chirped, “another famous item. But kochuri is most famous. Urad ki daal aur hing ki stuffing hoti hai. Garam garam banake dete hai. Aur saath me aloo ki sabji ya chola r dal… umm… matlab… chane ki dal.”
Dakhineshwar stood in all it’s majestic glory on the eastern banks of the Hoogly River, the nava-ratna or nine spires style of architecture reflected the historical significance of the Bengal School of Architecture. This temple of the Bhavtarini manifestation of Maa Kali was built by Rani Rashmoni who was a devout believer of Goddess Kali and is said to have been visited by the goddess in her dreams asking her to build a temple on the riverbank and install her idol. The inauguration of this blessed temple happened in 1855, and the reigns were handed over to Ramkumar Chattopadhyay who was appointed as the head priest of the temple. Ramkumar was assisted in his duties by his younger brother Ramakrishna, who was then called as Gadadhar. Just a year later the temple faced difficulties as the head priest, Ramkumar passed away, but thankfully all his responsibilities were taken over by Gadadhar who was then assisted by his wife Sarada Devi once she turned eighteen.
Gadadhar who later in his life came to be known as Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa was born is 1836, loved to create and paint clay models of Hindu deities, and was deeply attracted to folk and mythological stories. From a very young age he was religiously inclined and was often known to go into trances while praying. His way of spirituality was different from other priests and saints, for he was a believer in several faith and had also learned tantra sadhana. His oneness with Maa Kali, the belief that his wife Sarada Devi was an embodiment of the divine mother, his empathy towards the devotees and his disciples were some of the main reasons that Dakhineshwar saw a huge rise in the number of devotees visiting the temple. And even now it is said that a trip to Kolkata is incomplete without visiting this grandiose temple.
As Sameer and Naina stood in the long queue with a wicker basket of bright red hibiscus flowers, sindur and sweets for Maa; she regaled him with the tales of Dakhineshwar and its history that she had read in a book. Sameer listened attentively to it, not telling her that he had done his own research when she had stated that she wanted to visit this temple. This was why he was so confident that she would love the surprise he had planned. Given that it was a Tuesday there was already a long queue, but thankfully due to the cool weather it was not a task to stand bare feet for so long. Contrary to the rush he had witnessed in Siddhivinayak temple in Mumbai, the crowd of devotees were handled better here. First of all, there were no VIP queues; second the people standing in the queue chattered among them but as soon as they were within the temple itself, they fell silent; and finally, the priest didn’t rush anyone off, and there was even a place to sit and pray if someone wanted.
The sanctum housed a thousand petal fully bloomed lotus in pure silver upon which Lord Shiva laid in supine form and upon him with one leg on his chest stood the divine Maa Kali in all her glory. The chants of “Jai Maa Tara” was often heard inside the premises, and even Sameer bowed his head in-front of the sacred presence. The priest gave back a new box of sindur, few bangles, some flowers and sweets in their wicker basket to Naina and blessed both of them. Upon her urging they sat down on the carpet for some time, simply observing the people coming in to pray and the tasks carried out by the priest. When they left the premises, Naina confided in him that she felt a strange kind of peace within herself when she was inside. Sameer didn’t know how to express what he had felt, but he said that this temple certainly had something different from the other temples they had visited. The main temple was surrounded by twelve other small temples all of which housed small black shivlings, representing the twelve jyotirlingas. Of course, Naina wanted to visit each one of them and so they spent another thirty minutes going around those smaller temples. At a nearby shop where they had kept their footwear, they transferred the contents of the basket into a bag given by the shopkeeper and returned the basket to him. Naina also perused the shops and bought two photos: one was of the temple itself as memorabilia of this trip, and one of Goddess Kali to keep in their temple. She also got a book that detailed the history of the temple, and also had tales about the divine occurrences that were apparently seen when Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa was a priest here.
When they finally ventured outside, they were met by Barun, who took the small bag from them saying he would keep it in the car and guided them to a tiny shop selling fresh breakfast. He confided that Aman had drilled it into his head that Naina should be eating healthy, hygienic food, and that it was his responsibility as a local to guide them to good spots to eat. Naina scowled at this overbearing behaviour, while Sameer chuckled, internally thanking Aman for always solving his problems. With the ample pressure, he was sure Aman had put on Barun, he now didn’t need to worry about accidentally going to wrong spots for eating.
Needless to say, the shop was indeed tidy and even the big kadhai used to fry the kachoris looked clean and the oil was not black with days of use. The man asked something in Bangla, which Barun translated for them. Apparently, the question was if they wanted to eat aloo sabji or chana dal, and Sameer asked for both. Two sal leaf bowls of piping hot sabji and dal were placed in-front of them, and then came two leaf dishes with two kachoris each. Sameer’s tummy literally growled in hunger at the sight and smell, and Naina giggled at the sound. She used the tips of her fingers to tear off a tiny morsel of the kachori, blew on it, popped it in her mouth and immediately moaned at the taste. Sameer glanced around at the other patrons, hoping none of them heard his wife moan as it was a sound for his ears only. He smiled in satisfaction upon ensuring that everyone seemed to be occupied in eating their own food, and so he devoted himself to his dish. The alu-sabji was simple, but the chana dal was decadent with a burst of unusual flavours and the surprising crunch of coconut of pieces. The kachori was hot, delicious and was now in the list of some of the best breakfasts he had ever eaten. Sameer got two more kachoris for himself and Naina asked for one more piece, and they got another bowl of dal to share. The breakfast ended with freshly made jalebis followed by a cup of Kolkata’s famous chai served in kulhad.
After that they went back to the hotel to rest, and by around 1:30pm they were ready to go to the nearby Hogg Market, or as often known as New Market. The whole area was bustling with people, despite it being a weekday. Barun had assured them that the fuchka stalls were clean and the water they used had also never been an issue. Sameer also asked about Nizam’s as they wanted to try the rolls, and he assured that the place was okay. But he added not to eat at the roadside stalls claiming to sell similar kathi rolls.
Once inside the market, Sameer kept a firm hold on Naina’s hand, as he guided her through the shoppers. Asking for direction from a few people, he found the restaurant and were quickly seated inside on red plastic chairs. Perusing the menu he asked, “dal-chawal bhi khana hai kya?”
She shook her head, “nahi… bas roll khaungi main… woh bhi sirf egg wala. Let’s see if I can handle. Uske baad fuchka…”
He called for the waiter and asked for one egg roll, and one egg chicken roll and a bottle of water. The food was quick to arrive, and he held off, watching Naina sniff her roll, and then take a small bite, chewing cautiously. He let out a relieved breath when she nodded with a smile, “bilkul smell nahi aa rahi. I can eat.”
He smiled back at her, and then picked up his own roll, taking a bite out of it. The paratha was flaky, the egg well cooked, the chicken juicy and packed with flavours. He showed her the roll, “want a bite?”
She shook her head, “nahi… sab saath me nahi ekdum se. Kisi aur din try karungi, ya koi aur dish me. Maybe koi curry better rahega…”
He nodded, “haan… dekh lenge. By the way, Nizam’s ke baare me kuch nahi padha tumne?”
She laughed, “nahi… lekin Anmol ne bataya tha ke yeh restaurant Britishers ke time se hai yahan pe. Kebabs ke liye specially jaana jaata tha. Lekin Britishers ko hum mamuli Indians ke jaisa haath ke khana nahi aata tha, toh unhe kebab pasand toh the par khane me dikkat hoti thi. Isiliye Nizam’s me roll ka avishkar hua… Kebab ko parathe ke andar daalke roll kar diya, ab haath bhi gande nahi honge, aur koi insaan jaldi me ho toh chalte hue bhi kha sakta hai.”
He chuckled, “wow… ise kehte hai innovation. Shayad isiliye yeh restaurant itna famous hai.”
She nodded, “haan… Kolkata ke special kathi rolls sabse pehle yahin toh bane the.”
Wiping their hands on tissue papers, they ventured outside and spent more than two hours browsing through shops and buying several items. A home-décor shop inside the market complex caught her attention, and Sameer had a wonderful time seeing his wife haggling over different items like a set of decorative swans, a bone-china flower vase and a small moon lamp. It was much later that she worried about how they would take these items back to Mumbai as they only had one suitcase, and it was full to the brim. Sameer assured her that she could buy whatever she wanted, and he would have it all delivered to Mumbai along with the materials that he was going to buy this week for SJM. He even called Barun to the shop to take the packed boxes to the car. Naturally, Sameer had also indulged in a bout of shopping, albeit for his wife, and several earrings, necklaces, bangles, few anklets, made their way inside a huge decorative jute bag that they had also purchased from the market.
After jewellery shopping, they stopped at a nearby fuchka vendor, and despite Barun’s assurance Sameer asked to several questions to make sure that the water was clean. He even made the vendor wash his hands and make fresh potato masala for them with the promise of paying extra. They marvelled at the size of fuchkas, crispy perfections filled with flavourful masala made of potatoes, black chickpeas and white peas and then dipped into the spicy tangy water mixed with tamarind, coriander, mint, lemon and several spices. It was so delicious that they literally lost count and only stopped when Naina said that she was full. The dry papdi with a smear of black salt was the perfect end to the delightful treat.
Venturing further, a leather purse shop affiliated to the famous Shantiniketan attracted them both, and they bought two purses for Naina, one wallet for Sameer. Naina asked if they should buy something for others as well, and after a brief but significant deliberation Sameer consented to but another wallet for Rohan and a small purse for Deepika. For Nanu they got a more informal wallet, and Sameer said that they would buy some kurtas another day from a different market. To their utter delight New Market also housed Metro Plaza, the biggest shop for footwear in India. The prices were so reasonable that ended up buying several pairs for themselves.
Stowing their purchases in the car, it was with glowing faces and cheerful minds that they ventured into Park Street, after once more reconfirming about the places to eat with Barun. Naina did mention that she wasn’t sure she would be able to eat anything for dinner after the amount of fuchkas they had eaten, but Sameer wanted to be prepared. They strolled down the street, holding hands, peering into shops, spending some time inside the Allen Park. Sameer took her to Oxford Bookstore, and promptly lost his wife to the world of literature. Almost an hour later she chose two novels that she wanted to purchase, and Sameer had also chosen a book for himself – Built to Last: Successful Habits of Visionary Companies, written by James C. Collins and Jerry I. Poras. It was published just a few years ago, and when Naina teased that she didn’t know that he read, Sameer quirked a brow and asked, “haven’t you seen my study room at home?”
Perplexed, Naina shook her head, “nahi… zaroorat nahi lagi. And I thought you must have all important documents and files thee.”
“I do”, he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t enter. Anyways, confidential documents main lock karke rakhta hun kyunki Tai andar safai karne aati hai.”
She hummed, “study room me books rakhe hai?”
He smirked devilishly at her, “ab toh ghar jaake hi dekhna.”
She pestered him for an answer all through the time as he paid and accepted the bag of books, and they stepped outside, but Sameer merely chuckled at her. Holding her hand, he started to guide her down the road, with her still asking about books, and just as he was about to tell her to stop rambling lest she got out of breath, they heard a small scream behind them. Startling at the sound they immediately turned around, eyes roving over nearby surroundings and soon spotted a girl cowering near what appeared to be a bus stand as two burly men leered at her. One of them was close enough to intrude on her personal space and said something that made the girl whimper. The other man whistled and reached out to touch her causing the girl to flinch back. Both the men laughed at her misery.
Sameer immediately stepped forward but was held back as Naina didn’t relinquish her tight hold on him. He frowned, turning to ask Naina to give him a few moments to sort the issue out, but froze on seeing how pale she was. It seemed all her blood had drained, and her eyes were wide with horror. He also realized that her hand was clammy in his hold. It looked as if only the grip she had on him was keeping her upright.
Another call for help made him turn towards the scene again, and he heard the girl bravely declare that she would complain to the police. The goons laughed boisterously at this and claimed that if she knew who they were then she would understand that even police couldn’t do anything to them. Unexpectedly Naina gasped and whimpered on hearing this, Sameer couldn’t understand what was happening to her. Despite wanting to help the unknown girl, he chose to pull Naina in his arms, securing her in his hold, worried about her condition. Keeping a firm hold on her with one hand, he took out his mobile and speed dialled his assistant.
In just a few seconds, he calmly instructed, “Aman… Park Street, near the bus-stand in-front of Oxford Bookstore. Two men. Eve-teasing a girl. Claims to be beyond police rules. Do what’s needed.”
He also dialled Barun and asked him to come over to pick them up, who just arrived in the next five minutes. Once he made Naina sit inside, he was about to enter, but she made a sound. Wide horrified eyes looked at him, “no… please…”
“Naina”, he mumbled, trying to soothe her, “sab theek hai sweetheart. Police aa jayegi uski help ke liye.”
She shook her head, “nahi… police kuch nahi karti. Kabhi bhi nahi… please help her…”
He bit his lip, “par Naina tum…”
“Help her”, she pleaded, “warna Manav usko chodega nahi…”
His eyes widened upon hearing the name and making the decision in a split second he asked Barun to look after her, and then moved to the bus stand. A few brave men had inched closer to try and help the girl, but one of the goons hit a boy throwing him to the ground. As one of the other men helped the boy to stand, Sameer moved towards the girl, and said in a jovial tone, “tumhara phone kyun nahi lag raha? Kamsekam bata toh deti ke bus stop pe khadi ho. Chalo… let’s go home.”
The girl blinked at him in surprise for a moment, but soon realized that he was probably trying to save her, and so she relaxed, inching towards him. One of the goons threw out an arm between her and Sameer, “oy… ke re tui?”
Sameer deduced that he was being asked about his identity, “uske bhai ka dost. Lekin aap kaun hai? Aur yeh haath hataiye.”
“ooh… bideshi manus”, the other goon jeered, and then switched to hindi, “jaa yahan se. Yeh ladki toh hamare saath jayegi.”
Sameer flung the offending hand aside, and then grabbed the girl’s arm, pulling her behind him, “I don’t think so.”
The other goon tried to punch him, but Sameer caught his hand and kicked his leg from under him causing him to sprawl on the footpath. The first goon almost grabbed him, but Sameer pushed the girl aside and leaned back, the goon’s hand clenching on air, and he immediately landed a solid punch on the thug’s face. Both the burly men stood up and prepared to launch another attack, and few bystanders came beside Sameer to help, when suddenly everyone heard the blaring sirens of several police jeeps. The goons glanced at each other, and immediately fled down the road towards the park. A jeep stopped near them the next second and a police inspector stepped out, “who’s SJM?”
Sameer glanced at the man, “me…” Gesturing to the girl he said, “iss ladki ko ched rahe the, aur jin logo ne madad karne ki koshish ki unko maara bhi.” He added, pointing towards the park, “uss taraf bhaage hai. Khakhi pants dono ke… Ek ka brown check shirt, and ek ka plain maroon shirt. Healthy.”
The inspector asked the remaining two jeeps to chase down the goons, and then asked the girl if she knew those men. The girl shook her head, “naa… ami ekhane bus er wait korchilam. Ora kothao theke ese hatat kore…” She trailed off with a sniff. Two constables started collecting statement, and in the meantime another car came up the curb, a man and woman stepping out and moving towards Sameer.
The man greeted, “hello sir.”
“Hello Tanmay, Ranjini aunty”, Sameer greeted, “Aman ne bataya sab?” They nodded, and he gestured towards the girl, “make sure she reaches home safely, and keep a track on what’s being done.”
Sameer approached the inspector, “meri wife car me hai… tabiyat theek nahi hai uski. Main Fairlawn hotel me ruka hun… Sameer Maheswari. Aap kisiko wahan bhej denge mera statement lene ke liye?”
The inspector nodded, and then queried, “kabhi kisi tourist ko aise help karte nahi dekha. Aur SJM… Businessman haina aap?”
Sameer sighed, “yes. Aur help kaafi log karne ka try kar rahe the. Mere paas bas unse zyada zariya tha help karneka. I must go now, but… unn dono ka kehna tha ke police unka kuch nahi bigad sakti. Please ensure ke yeh baat sach na ho…”
The inspector assured him of due diligence, and Sameer introduced him to Tanmay and Ranjini, “yeh dono mere trust me kaam karte hai. Aashray. They will help the girl reach home safely and explain things to her family.”
Having said his piece, he left, sliding inside the car, intent on asking his wife about what she had said. Naina had her eyes closed, her hands clenched on the bag of books, and on hearing the door close she startled.
Sameer immediately cupped her shoulders, “it’s just me…”
Her eyes searched his face, “woh… woh ladki…”
“Safe hai”, he assured, “mere trust ke kuch log usko ghar pahoncha denge theek se.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. Sameer nodded to Barun to take them to the hotel, and then gently asked Naina, “tum theek ho?”
Her eyes opened, and she looked puzzled. He clarified, “tumne… tumne Manav ka naam liya.”
She gasped, her eyes widening once more, but then he saw her blink the shutters starting to come down in her eyes, expression draining out of her face. Before she could pull back from him mentally, Sameer gripped her hand, “I saved her Naina… Just like you asked me.” She swallowed audibly, in silent contemplation. He continued firmly, “You asked me to save her, and I did… Now let me save you.”
She made a distressed sound, and he rubbed his thumbs on the back of her palm, “you are my wife… SJM ki biwi ho tum… Koi tumhara kuch nahi bigad sakta. I will always protect you… Manav se darne ki zaroorat nahi hai Naina… Trust me… Tumne mujhe roka hua hai warna ab tak Manav Bajaj puri tarah se barbaad ho gaya hota. Please darling… tell me… let me help.”
She felt exhausted with the memories that had assaulted her upon witnessing the eve teasing in-front of her. She was so mentally gone that she hadn’t even realized she had taken Manav’s name. All she had thought that there had been nobody to help her, but Sameer could help that girl if he wanted to… She had stopped him when he had tried to go before, but then she had herself pleaded as she knew the desperation of wanting even one person to help, knew the humiliation of losing her dignity in public. She didn’t want that young girl to face it… and so she had pleaded, not realizing that perhaps she had pleaded Sameer to save her younger self, her innocence, her heart… She was tired of clamping down her feelings, of not being able to even be a proper wife to her husband, of being afraid of her family, of being terrified of her nightmares… And so, she decided it was time to stop feeling afraid. She didn’t have anyone then, but now she had Sameer, her husband, who also happened to be a big-shot businessman with powers beyond her realm of understanding.
Holding onto his hand, she croaked out the words from her clogged throat, “ho…hotel jaake.”
He let out a breath of relief, “okay sweetheart. Hotel jaake.”
She leaned into him, letting herself seek comfort in his strong arms, and he didn’t disappoint her, immediately gathering her close and kissing the top of her head as the car moved towards the hotel.
********************
Bengali Translations
“uff… soro ektu. Jayga ta din. Sir taxi nebenna. Nijer gaadi achche. Sorun sorun…”
“uff… move aside. Give some space. Sir won’t take taxi. He has his own car. Move Move…”
“oy… ke re tui?”
“oy… who are you?”
“ooh… bideshi manus”
“ooh… foreigner” (To some Bengalis everyone living outside of West Bengal and speaking a different language is a foreigner. With the widespread internet, now this is not true, but it definitely was the case in earlier times. Even I have been tagged as a foreigner in childhood despite speaking fluent Bengali, just because my accent was different, as I have never lived in West Bengal.)
“naa… ami ekhane bus er wait korchilam. Ora kothao theke ese hatat kore…”
“No… I was waiting here for the bus to arrive. They suddenly appeared from somewhere…”
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Divya
Waiting for next