Being Together


This was my entry for the creative writing competition in Carpe Diem, 2010. Carpe Diem is the intra university fest that we have every year. This was written in two hours flat with a 1200 words limit. So couldn’t explore it much. Nevertheless thought of publishing it. Oh! it won the 3rd prize 😀


                                                               Being Together
“So should I wait for you or go alone?” Titir clearly sounded disinterested over the phone.
“I think I will be late.” Rajat was curt enough to match Titir.
“Ok.”
A conversation like this was nowadays ordinary for Rajat-Titir. Over the years their relationship had seen phases of being pale and then turns a shade paler. Fourteen years ago they were campus sweethearts in one of the country’s best engineering colleges. Needless to say it was very difficult to convince Rajat’s proud Punjabi parents and Titir’s equally conceited Bengali family to go for a cross cultural marriage like theirs. But eventually they had to give in to the demands of this upbeat couple for a ‘love marriage’.
Titir often wondered about what went wrong between then and now. It all seemed picture perfect even the day when she told him about her pregnancy. Was it the miscarriage that made Rajat averse? Or was it because of the better career profile that Titir managed over the years while Rajat struggled for no particular reasons. Every single incident, be it Titir’s absence when Rajat’s mom expired or his refusal to father a child again, added to a greater darkness within the shadows that already clouded their relationship.
It was a particularly humid day. The traffic added to the woes. Titir was seriously contemplating asking Ira mashi why she had a fetish for scheduling all her children’s wedding during summer. She also could never sense the joy that her extended family gathered by asking her about Rajat. They all knew about the state of things. In fact Titir was happy that Rajat made up an excuse today. She clearly remembered what an embarrassment he was when he once came for a family wedding completely drunk.
 “Titir, Why are you so late?” Her mother was standing in front of the stair case.
“Ma, you know I often get late while coming back from office. Besides that, the traffic was really bad.”
“Ok. Is Rajat coming?”
“I don’t know.”
“At least today you guys could have made an effort ton show up together.”
The last remark by her mother made her lose her cool. Didn’t her mother know everything about their relationship and what Titir had been going through?
“Why? What is so special about today? Or for that matter any day? Ma, I still have some prestige and dignity left. I am thankful that he declined to come today. Don’t you remember what he did for Chotomama’s son’s wedding?”
“Titir I understand. But you should always give people a second chance.”
“How may more “Second” chances Ma?”
“Titir for God’s sake, don’t you guys remember it is 22nd of April today, your wedding anniversary.”
For a moment Titir was stuck as to what to say in reply. She actually could not come up with a befitting one. She mumbled something before moving on to meet her cousin Rinku, the one who was getting married today. The very same day she had an elaborate wedding with Rajat, fifteen summers ago. How could she forget about it completely? And how could Rajat? They had planned so much about the wedding, the rituals, the shopping to be done and how the wedding album should be done up. All that seems yesterday and today they completely forgot about it.
The confusion regarding the last minute details of the wedding reached its peak. The groom’s family was already there and Ira mashi hyperventilated. Titir could not find a much more opportune moment to slip out of the venue silently. Her mind pondered only over Rajat’s ignorance to remember this day. She understood it was her fault too but couldn’t he surprise him by remembering this day once in their entire married life. Till last year she made some efforts to buy gifts and go out for dinner. And this year she also forgot. Is it an indication as to where is their relationship heading to?
All these thoughts cluttered her mind while she drove back home. Perhaps that place which she nowadays calls her own could provide some solace. Perhaps because it was a roof shared by two strangers who nowadays did not even bother to remember a common thread the legally still bound their lives.
She banged then door after opening it with her own set of keys. And there was a bigger surprise waiting for her inside.
Rajat was sitting in hall. The Asha Bhonsle song being played was of her choice, but she did not care to notice.
“You told you will be late, didn’t you?” Titir was seething with anger.
“Yes.”
“Come on, why did you have to make up an excuse? Why couldn’t you come with me for my relative’s wedding?”
“I did not feel like.” Rajat was cold.
“Did not feel like it? Ok! Tell me once Rajat when you ever did something with conviction? You can only frown about things in life and never do anything about it. Do you have any idea that my relatives ask when you do not turn up for such a social do?”
“But Titir I think you once mentioned that I do not accompany you for such functions. Besides it does not seem that your family is particularly fond of me.”
“It is because you turned up drunk for such a function. What more do you expect?”
“That is fine then. Even you were not present when my family needed you the most.”
“Don’t bring that up or even compare. It was out of my hands, I was on an official tour when mummyji expired.”
“Oh! Please, do not give me that shit. You and your official duties always take preference.”
“Stop sulking Rajat and accept the fact that I am more successful. I could never understand why you are having an inferiority complex? Come on! I am equally qualified and did not drown myself in alcohol. I never lacked focus in my life, unlike you.”
“Yes. Focus in life that killed our child.”
For a moment Titir wished she was deaf, but it was not to be. Rajat had left the room.
The next morning was not any different from the usual routine. Titir was getting ready by her usual eight-thirty standard when she found a note besides the jewellery case Rajat had gifted her on their first wedding anniversary. Rajat had scribbled a sorry on it, the first one he had in all these years. Titir was impatient to throw it away when the concluding part of the note caught her attention.
“Titir,
I thought you had remembered our anniversary and returned early. I was waiting for you. I don’t know if I told you about this ‘Baba’ I met at the jogger’s park a month back. I know you will laugh at me but he inspired me to start everything afresh. But it was not meant to be the way I planned. I remember you never quite believed in ideal dates. Yesterday was one which went awry. Let’s make an unplanned start today, a day past the fifteenth year of our being together.”
Emotions overcome the better of one’s self and Titir was no exception. Only that this time Rajat was standing at the door to comfort her.
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Blossoms of the winter sun

(This is a Carpe Diem- ‘my annual college fest’- effort. This won the 2nd prize this year. Read on!)


I
The vaudeville of events that unfolded in front of Tupur’s eyes this warm January morning could have been truly surprising for any member of her generation in the Sengupta household. Not her. Her parent’s divorce six years ago had suddenly transformed her blithe self into a blotting equation of emotions. She had spent six years of her lifetime in her mother’s nostalgically old North Calcutta house. She often wondered nowadays if she loved her Mathematician father anymore. The promises made to her mother during that long drawn bitter court battle regarding her custody, made her feel that her mother needed her more. She was her mother’s daughter- a very proud one.
The house wore a festive look today. It was Chotomashi’s wedding. The troika of Boromashi, chotomami and sejomashi were on their way to gossiping glory about how Rinku mashi’s daughter had planned to elope with the neighbourhood ruffian.
Tupur was chatting with her cousins in a corner when a pretty lady of Chotomashi’s age came forward and secretively asked, “Aren’t you Sandhya di’s daughter, Tupur?”
“Yes, but how do you know?”
“Actually…am….” Her face turned a shade lighter.
Even before she could answer, Boromashi shrieked and the entire gathering gave a scandalized expression. Ma came running hysterically from somewhere hurling choicest of expletives towards the lady and holding Tupur close to her chest.
Tupur had understood. She was Bela, Ma’s cousin, the one whom her father Abinash chose over her mother.
As the family grapevine goes, Bela used to stay in this house to study in Calcutta. Tupur’s father used to teach her in the University. Their affair grew during those times until Ma came to know about it a few years later. Bela’s mention made Ma feel insecure, just as the way she was behaving now. The divorce had made her mother self doubting and hysterical at times.
It took a whole lot of persuasion and consolation from other family members to send her mother back inside. The mood of celebration was not to be spoilt.
By lunchtime the incident was a part of common knowledge.
“Abinash did the right thing. My God! What language does she use! Dugga Dugga”
“Aha! Bor-di, as if we don’t know Sandhya…she was very well mannered….don’t you remember she used to sing so well before marriage. Aha re! Think of what she has gone through. We cannot really blame her.”
“Sandhya used to consider Bela as her own sister. And look what Abinash did?”
“As if Bela did not know what she was doing? These days the girls don’t have any morals.”
The conversations flowed. Sometimes the shabbiness of this house grew on its inhabitants.
II
The sunset rekindled the memories of the Bombay trip Tupur had enjoyed with Chotomama last winter. The twilight hues of iridescence bathing the virginal corners of the roof of their old Calcutta house transferred her to a world of her own. Far from the maddening secret, that her father had married her mother’s cousin three days before her tenth birthday, from the eyes of her relatives in this house who always pitied her life for the lack of a fatherly figure. Far from the school registration forms which asked for reconciliation between her Father’s name and Mother’s maiden name signed thereon.
The fervent blowing of conch shells downstairs announced the arrival of the groom. Somebody called out for her.
The merriment had just begun. The bitter expression that dominated the entire morning episode had vanished from Ma’s face.
Sejomesho already had a group of people listening agog to his stories of his exploits around the world including his visit to the White House or the anecdote about the African carnivores. The authenticities of these stories were not to be judged, they were meant for good humored enjoyment. Ma had also joined. The gathering had gained momentum when Boromami, the uniformly hated snob of the family, intervened sarcastically,
“So Sujoy, how many fools did you make this time?”
“Well as Confucius says, Fools are those who consider others to be so.” Sejomesho’s stinging anglicized humour did hit the right chord.
“Huh! So now you have started dishonouring elders also. Don’t forget am your elder sister in law.” Boromami just could not swallow the follow up to her attack.
Ma intervened to make peace.
“Boudi, Don’t take him seriously. You know how he jokes around.”
“Sandhya don’t try to cover him up. He jokes around, but that does not give him the liberty to call me a fool. Am I the butt of all jokes in this family?”
“Boudi he cracks joke on all of us.”
“Really! He never cracked a joke on you or how you behaved today morning when Bela came….as if you had just run away from Ranchi’s mental asylum.”
Silence prevailed again. Boromami never really knew where to stop. Tupur could see her mother’s face cringe with shame and sorrow. She decided to take her mother inside.
III
Long after her mother was asleep from the dosage of sedatives, Tupur was still sitting by her side. She pondered over the purpose of Bela’s visit today. It still remained a mystery for her. Whatever obtuse understanding she had of the issue, she had made out that no body in this house could have invited her to come. Not even Boromami. Her entry to this house was permanently barred. Probably she had come to visit Chotomashi, her childhood companion. But she too had disowned her years ago. Then what made her visit this household today, after six long years. Was it only for Chotomashi or there was more to it? The ash flakes of perceptions precipitated on her mind when didu entered the room.
Didu, her grandmom, looked relieved today. This marriage was the last of her responsibilities. The negotiations for Chotomashi’s marriage proposals failed mostly because of her mother’s divorcee past. Luckily this one survived.
“Tupur, everyone’s looking for you over there. I will be here with your mother. Go quickly.”
The pheras were being completed by the time she reached. Tupur was time and again amazed by the capacity of the member’s of this house to forget. Everyone looked so happy and content now. Boromashi, Sejomesho or Boromami, nobody remembered Bela’s visit in the morning or what happened with Ma sometimes back. She doubted that if anybody had even cared to find out why Bela came to this house today. No body did apparently.
IV
It was around eleven in the morning after the wedding when Tupur woke up. The Tottwo (gifts) for tomorrow’s Boubhat at the groom’s place were being made ready.
The old landline telephone of the house suddenly bustled with exuberance. Sejomesho answered. Tupur could hear only one side of the conversation.
“Yes, May I know who’s speaking?”
“Who?” Sejomesho’s voice cracked
“What, When?”
“Accha! Can you give me the address?” He scribbled down something on the writing pad.
“Ok, ok, we will be there in sometime. Tupur…ok, Tupur will also come with us.”
Tupur was suddenly startled by the mention of her name in this seemingly normal conversation. She looked at sejomesho questioningly.
“Where is you mother Tupur?” sejomesho asked her.
“She is sleeping. She took some sedatives in the night.” She answered.
“Ok you go and wake her up. We need to go.”
“Where Sejomesho? What happened?”
“I will explain. You go and get your mother.”
Ma looked composed in the car. Tupur could make out that she already knew what was happening. She felt helpless. It was only she who did not have an inkling of what was happening around. Everyone seemed tense when they left the house. The frolic of festivity had disappeared.
The traffic lights blinked red. Sejomesho puffed another cigarette before Tupur could ask what had happened.
“Tupur, you have to be extremely brave. We all know how mature you are. Your father has passed away this morning. He had a heart attack day before yesterday. He wanted to meet you one last time. That is why we thought of taking you for his funeral.”
Sejomesho spoke in a monotone. Tupur listened carefully. Silently. The puzzled pieces of jigsaw were falling into place. That explained Bela’s visit to their house yesterday or speaking to her. Her immediate concern was for her mother. She seemed serene.
Individually, she did not know how to react to the situation. She had lost her father. Her school friends always told her about how much they were Daddy’s little girl. Surprisingly she had no such memories. The very few of them she had of her early ten years of existence in their Father’s house in Ballygunge were marked by quarrels between her parents. After the divorce battle was over, her mother’s insecurities never let them meet. Perhaps she was the only companion her mother could hold on to live in this world. Her father also never pressed over the Court’s orders about letting him meet Tupur once a week. May be that was his way of apologizing to her mother. He still used to send beautiful dresses for Tupur during the Durga pujo days, the ones that Ma never allowed her to wear.
She wondered if his father’s corpse still looked like the one that is there on her childhood photograph album.
V
It was around 1.30 in the afternoon when they reached the nursing home. Bela waited for them at the entrance. Her mother’s composure broke down as she saw the dead body. Sejomesho discussed minute medical details of her father’s death with his colleagues. Bela joined them.
Tupur was standing alone in the room perceiving everything around. The understanding was hazy. It was then that Bela came to speak to her.
“Tupur, Your father wished to see you once before he died. I could not explain anything yesterday. I was thrown out without even being given an opportunity to speak. He wanted me to give you this.”
Bela handed her an envelope with her name written on it. Tupur opened it at once. Inside there was a photograph of her on her Baba’s lap on her first birthday. A note accompanied the photograph. Inscribed on it was, “Dear Tupur, This is the loveliest memory I have of us together. I treasured this photograph all these years. Wish you luck in all your endeavors in life.
Love, Baba”
A drop of tear fell on the written alphabets of the letter. The relationship which never saw the light of the day blossomed on this winter afternoon, long after it was all over. Tupur could only say, “Thank you baba.”