Frankly speaking, I did not know him till last night. Frank is just like his name, very very frank. I was pleasantly surprised by his jovial and good natured, “I am Franklin Bhattacharya!” It did not stop me from retorting back, “Nobody I know has Franklin for a first name (oops, I forgot Franklin Roosevelt – one of the American Presidents, not that I should remember, after all I am not American), you are a sham!” He argued back, that Franklin was a first name, I argued that it was more often a last name, finally my son settled it - “it must be Frank Bhattacharya, isn’t it?” And my new friend quickly fell for the charming cause for ceasefire. “Yes, my friends do call me Frank you know.”
I liked his open smile, which was his “unique selling point”. And I told him so - he accepted that he won the “Best Smile” prizes in most birthday parties. He also mentioned he is attending one tonight, I am also invited and can actually check out, if his claim is true. I learnt he loves dancing, but one shortcoming – he needs a lot of leg space to dance. He likes crooning English songs and treated me to “Tease Me”. I did sort of like it you know. And my son practically went gaga.
In spite of being Frank Bhattacharya (most probably a Bengali from his last name), he spoke very good Marathi, is it because both languages are very close? No idea, but his English being only passable, we did converse for the most part in Marathi. I discovered, he loved traveling even if it was for work and not pleasure, so much so he was out of town every other week. I somehow felt on familiar turf when I heard this. I keep battling absences at home too. He hit it off nicely with my son, and fondly remembered his own son.
Well, I don’t know when I nodded off, as they both talked on a number of topics – songs, cars, sketches and the inevitable Amruta Khanvilkar. I came back to this world when the earthy dialect of Kolhapur softly rapped my ears. I didn’t want to open my drowsy eyes and then a song made of the same earthy overtures teased me “Aga maina tujhi haus purvina”. Instantly I was awake, the voice familiar, the drifts of Kenzo Power in the air and the realization, that Frank was indeed my own husband and that I had been fast asleep dreaming of him as someone else. And no I am not despondent that Frank Bhattacharya is not some mystery man, but my husband.
