Nandini, a love story
I returned yesterday. Mom had not spoken a single word with me after that day, except before father and Samir in a detached tone of disgust. Her stony face and disturbed composure were enough for my extra pill of sleeplessness. When I left the home early in the morning, she accompanied me to the stop and the only sentence she offered me with her cold, aloof voice was, “Tell Dipesh…whatever whims you are playing at his back. At least try to be honest in any relationship. I can take no more.” Her words were more chilling than the cold January breath.
The next day it started raining in the morning and when I reached the stop it was already a puddle. The bus was a bit empty except for the daily passengers. With my painful pleasure, Prasun was there. He smiled at me and invited me to sit beside him. But to my utter surprise, I wished to sit elsewhere where I could keep my solitary head at the bolstered padded back of the bus and could indulge in the same activity of puzzle-solving. I felt too tired even to feel happy at his invitation. For the first time in my life, I wanted to escape from him, avoid him. He was the cause of all my torments.
But I sat beside him.
“You are looking a bit ill. Too much pressure in office?”
“Can you come tomorrow? I have arranged a small party in my house. I want you to join with others. Debika, Kaushik, Somali, Jiten, and Patrali all will be there.”
I was startled, “What is the occasion?”
He was smiling…his face was beaming with oozing happiness.
“Don’t you know?”
“Ok, then keep it for a surprise.”
But tell me the occasion. And I do not know your house.
“Kaushik will be there to take you.” I will tell Kaushik to pick you up from the stand.
At night I called Kaushik. At least I had to buy a gift, suitable for that occasion. So, I must know the occasion.
“Di, don’t you know?”, Kaushik was surprised, “It is Prasun’s marriage celebration party. The ceremony was in his native house and now they are celebrating here with friends and colleagues.”
“When did it happen?” I could not refrain myself.
“Previous month he was absent, don’t you notice.”
I noticed every single day he was absent. But he was absent so many times…and for so many reasons.
I did not know why I asked the question, but I asked, “What is her name, Kaushik?” though I knew “What’s in a name.” Negating Shakespeare, he blatantly said, “Nandini.”
Hey, I am Munmun, the phoenix fabulist who wants to tell you stories. I love to read stories and I love to weave stories. I feel life is an amalgamation of multiple stories, colourful threads, and threads of pain, pleasure, hope, and hopelessness. We just need to pick those hues and arrange them, knitting them with our own emotions and perception. So let’s celebrate the stories of life.