sudiptasdiary

Bina sat like a statue, her eyes staring blankly at the grey morning sky. The monsoon had set in and she hated the season. But it was not a good time to think about that. Her thoughts were jumbled and she wondered why she was unhappy.

Ma cried her youngest. She came back to her senses. She was tired and this was the fourth night she had spent sleepless.

She now looked at the bed, her kids sleeping peacefully. The youngest one might have dreamt and was crying in his sleep. She patted the child lightly and he snuggled against her and returned to a peaceful slumber.

What would she do now? Whom should she turn for help? She looked at her bedroom; the furniture was expensive made of solid burma teak. SS had an eye for good things. He was an aesthetic person but why did he leave her so early. He had promised he would stand strong and never ditch her. A strong sharp pain cut through her throat and she began sobbing uncontrollably. Her entire life would now be dull like that grey sky, the colour she hates the most.

The post mortem report clearly stated that SS was poisoned. The police had questioned her and found her answers satisfactory. They had promised that they would find a clue and trace the culprit. She knew they were lying. Nobody can find the culprit, because he was too cunning to get caught. Dr. Sen, she convulsed when she recalled those cruel eyes. He was SS's senior, his Guru. But deep in her heart Bina knew that Dr. Sen was jealous of SS's success.  SS with his naïve faith did not heed to Bina's caution.  But she never doubted that the man would kill her husband.

The calling bell rang shrilly. Bina did not budge. That must be the milkman or the paper walla, they will go away leaving the paper or the milk pouch over the window seal. But the bell did not stop, it rang again. Bina got up and proceeded to open the door.

I am sorry Bina ma, I thought of meeting you and the young one's.

Dr Sen, please come in.

I am so sorry girl, that charming man and how he ended his life.

Ended his life?

Yes, the post mortem report confirmed that he died of poison.

But how does that confirm that he committed suicide kaku, Bina retorted icily?

He died of cyanide a deadly poison. It killed him in seconds Bina, being a doctor he knew it's effect.

Yes uncle he was a doctor and you were his Senior.

Bina, What do you mean? I killed SS?

I never said that, kaku, you are acting defensive. But from this day I have one single mission in life and that is finding out his murderer.

Bina, I know you are not in your senses now. But I also know you are helpless. I have an open position for a receptionist at my chamber, I offer you the post. You are welcome to join anytime this month. You know Bina, life continues and the kids, they have to live and grow.

I will consider your offer kaku, please give me some time to think.

Dr Sen left.

That night Bina left Kolkata forever with her three kids. Her house at kalighat was locked and bolted.

Two days later Dr. Sen considered his moral responsibility to advertise in the paper about a missing lady with her three young children. The advertisement was too small to catch anybody's interest.

Bina was lost in the same cloud of obscurity, she so much hated.

There you are, oh liberated and vigorous girl, your thoughts are trodden every time you think you have settled and claimed acceptance. You are a born rebel, the so called black sheep. Your actions are shunned and negated.

This is an absolute statement made about Jinia everywhere she goes. It follows her like a ghost, lurking at corners and reminding her of her deficiencies. From her childhood, everything she did was analysed brutally. She was good in her studies, but nobody praised her. She was good looking but that would always come with an, if only she was more ladylike. She was intelligent with a thought process to match that. She took her decisions and was mostly successful in all she did. Anybody would think, what was the problem then and why this write-up.

It is just to analyse another enigma of human psychology.

Jinia was a normal girl in a normal household. Her parents were decent people with moderate income. They led a placid life with a doting elder daughter. I would say she was plain simple, her beauty vain and her character snobbish. Yet she was the apple of their eye. Jinia was too much of a disturbance, when they already had so much in their elder daughter. Yes, life's hypocrisy, to marvel in imperfections and look for a crack when perfection haunts.

Jinia grew up fast. She was strong and virile. She had found somebody in her journey, with whom she could relate. Her father, he admired her strength, her conviction, her optimism. He wasn't always there, because he too was a slave of conformism. But he broke rules, and supported Jinia. The sapling tapped enough nutrition to be able to gain roots that ran deep and could stand tall. The tree provided such welcome shade from the torpid heat. Nobody was greeted, yet everybody came, spent some time on the shade with peace, chatted and left.

She chose her career, her husband, her home and God chose to gift her with a child. When Jinia reflects now, in her journey, there was really nobody beside her. Either somebody was following her or stopping her. There was nobody she could lean to, and nobody she could follow. She has such a charming child. The child is lucky, because her mother has understood how painful it is to be standing alone. She strives to be the support that the child requires in her life to become a tall tree and bear fruits.

And thinking about the mystery of human psychology, her child is now discussed again. In whispers and broad hints and suggestions. Isn't she too lady like and gentle. She is gentle like a dove, placid like a lake, a pleasure to the eyes. Will she make it in the big bad world? Will she have the tenacity and the strength?

Phew work and work. I have been working 12 hours a day since when I don't remember. I need a break. My mind is crying for some freedom. My back is aching for sitting continuously. I am skipping my meals and my precious time with my sweet daughter. I need to plan; and take a break. God, I will soon perish if this continues.

Well this was what I was thinking when I was driving yesterday night. I was lost in thought and suddenly came to my senses when the car in front suddenly screeched to a halt. As usual the passers-by huddled to witness the event, ruining my chances of reaching home a bit early.

I sat nonchalantly waiting for the confusion to clear. Then I heard somebody shouting, a shrill woman voice, talking gibberish. I will tell you why.

I stepped out of my car, now curious. As I approached the commotion I saw a small kid lying on the road. I quickly searched whether he was ok. He seemed to be ok and even smiled faintly at me. Then I tried to search for the lady who was shouting. I recognized her immediately. Mrs. Sen, she doesn't know me well, but I know her through my common friends. A poor lady, I have always heard, she has tried hard to conceive and have failed. Her husband is a successful businessman and is quite renowned. Recently I have heard that she has adopted a boy from a poor couple. I somehow related that this must be her new found and long cherished baby. But why was she shouting and why is the boy still lying on the road. Is it more important to shout rather than pick up your child? I went forward and helped the child to stand. He whispered faintly, I fell down by myself, the car didn't hit me.

I went forward and stood before her; a sign of remembrance flickered in her eyes for an instant and then she smiled. This taxi driver hit my child. The taxi driver was standing resignedly and looked at me with new hope in his eyes. Didi, madam was talking on the mobile phone and was not holding the boy's hand while she was crossing the road. The child hit that brick and fell down, it is not my fault. The child is unaffected; I don't know why madam is creating such a commotion.

I talked smoothly to Mrs. Sen, asking her to forgive the man, and help the passersby. The traffic had now formed a serpentine line, thanks to her argument. Mrs. Sen threatened to sue the man for one last time and then thanked me profusely. Where are you going? She asked me. I am heading towards my home, do you want a lift? Yes please, my car broke down and I was looking for a taxi. Please drop me at Rashbehari. Sure, you are welcome.

She opened the rear door and sat down heavily, sighing with relief. I took hold of the boy and made him sit beside me. Mrs. Sen talked incoherently, telling the events once more. And then she said, this boy has become a menace. I should have listened to my husband, breed matters you know. Oh, I am sorry, I have adopted this brat and now have to bear him all through my life. I looked at the sad face of the boy and felt like crying. You know Sudipta, never adopt a child from poor people, they are miserable and this attitude is grounded in their genes. I was thankful when I dropped her and watched as she waded away with the child following her.

I wondered with a heavy heart, what would happen to the child. I know Mrs. Sen must have become famous in her circle for her benevolence. But think when this child grows and contributes his share, what would that be? His hatred or his luck to have become a prodigy. Do you think Mrs. Sen will help him become a good human being? I wonder when we would be taught to be responsible and caring.

Sometimes it is so nice to be sitting alone and doing nothing. Recently my daughter was invited to a birthday party; I dropped her at the hotel and thought of waiting in a nearby park to pick her up after the party.

The park is famous in Kolkata. And I was loathing that I had to waste two hours of my time just for a silly party. I had so much to do and these people had to organise a party so far away from home in a posh hotel and had to invite Titiksha alone. I even cursed my husband because he is out of town on official work for the last ten days.

However gradually realization dawned that I was alone and I had the liberty to sit aimlessly for two hours without being disturbed. The first thing I did was to switch off my cell phone. Next I took a look at the deep green trees all clean and polished, thanks to the rain gods. It was around 11 am in the morning and the park was more or less empty. I deeply inhaled the smell of nature, the typical smell after an intense shower, of soft earth, green grass, rotting leaves and clogged water. It was so refreshing, the birds chirping happily, the sun dull and sluggish, a lethargic day, with nothing to do. I stretched my legs and arms and sat with dreamy eyes, enchanted with the short lived freedom of solitude.

Suddenly I watched a lady, with too much makeup at that time of the day, giving nervous furtive glances. She had a small leather bag in her hand and she was clutching it to her bosom as if it contained something very precious. She sat down on the bench beside me, I smiled at her. She did not respond. There was an electrical alacrity in her. I kept a watch on her, glancing sideways, not displaying too much curiosity. She was too nervous and ignored me altogether. Suddenly I saw a disheveled man scurrying past. He gave a nod as he passed us, and immediately the lady got up and followed the man. At this point I was conjured with curiosity and followed the lady. She trotted on a slow jog, dropped the leather bag she was clutching and hurriedly exited out of the park. A few minutes went by and nobody came. I went back to my bench and kept an eye on the bag. Strange, with all the terrorist events going on I did not feel the necessity to alert the guards. I had the nerve to wait and watch.

And then I saw the same disheveled man again, now walking at a leisurely pace, he went to the place where the lady had dropped her bag, picked it up and went away as if nothing happened. I just sat there in a trance. I did not do anything, whatever could I do? Raise an alarm and catch hold of the man? Help the police to trace the lady and give her bag back? But I had noticed that the lady dropped the bag herself, and there was a joint agreement, both of them knew each other and it was planned in advance. I do not know why they did it and whether this happens often. Was the lady being blackmailed and she was saving her face by paying that man. Did she ever love that man and now he was fleecing her for his own evil designs. There might be thousand possibilities. I was a witness to something shady or good or whatever be it and now I am narrating it to you all.

A few days passed by. The event had now taken a backseat. There is so much to do. Such trifle events can hardly make any mark on ordinary people. We are so self-centered. But somehow I was not able to forget the incident.

I was stranded in a traffic jam and was very angry because I was late to office. And then I suddenly saw that lady, sitting smugly in a Honda city. A middle aged man was sitting beside her, maybe her husband. She was smiling and chatting happily. What a coincidence, I thought.

And then the traffic light turned green and we went on our ways. I cast a last look at the car, carrying the mysterious lady. I was a witness to an event in her life. And I will never know what was in the bag or why she had left it. Yet another unsolved event in my life. I sighed and increased speed, I was running late.

BABA! She screamed in terror. That part of Kolkata was notorious for its power cuts. The little girl was terrified with darkness. She was the fourth child, her parent's last attempt for a son. She was never the apple of their eye. They reared her with a distance. They did not have any more love left to offer her. Baba came and held her hand. She wanted to be taken in his lap. He did not; he was too old for any fatherly affection. There was a void, darkness in her soul that could not be filled. She was always thirsty for more.

She chose to be a rebel, went out and did things that her parents never approved. She was always on the lookout for that person who would fill in the void. She fell in love with an average person at a very tender age. He was selfish and she understood. He was more attracted towards her physically, and an incident before their marriage confirmed that. But she chose to marry him; she liked to inflict pain on herself.

She went through immense torture. Her mother-in-law was a psychopath and abused her verbally and physically. Her husband had forgotten her after their marriage. She was only required at night, to appease his hunger. She was used brutally and the void deepened. She still was afraid of the darkness.

There was a marriage in the house and she was alone. She had fever and everybody left her to attend the marriage. Suddenly the power went off; she was too weak to scream. She frantically searched for a torch, candle, matchbox; her eyes were heavy with fever. Suddenly she felt something.  Someone passed her and sighed. She stood still all her senses trying to feel the presence. Cold sweat ran through her body. She didn’t even dare to move. She fainted.

Next morning her husband woke her from the floor and ordered for tea and breakfast. She did not exchange a word; she had stopped expecting kindness from him. He was not even curious that she was sleeping on the floor.

But now, she felt as if someone was moving beside her, a strange feeling, as if you have company but don’t know who it is. It was always there, she could feel it from the corner of her eye. She would turn around suddenly only to find nothing. Yet someone watched her, as she went about her daily chores. She was now acquainted with its presence. A great solace, a witness to her tears, her loneliness, her solitude. She also felt a strange phenomenon. The lump in her throat, the void in her soul was gradually filling up, with peace. Her bitterness gave way to tranquility. She started talking with it, regular conversation, and she started studying. She completed her Masters and started earning money by giving tuitions. Wherever she went, she knew it was there, watching her with kindness.

She found out that she was pregnant, it was rather late, and she had conceived 5 months back. And then all of a sudden she felt it going, away from her life. A breeze stirred and the door squeaked open and then it was gone. Her hands unknowingly waved it goodbye.

She is now a mother and no longer alone. She has divorced her husband and stay in her own house with her two children. She has fallen in love with herself and for her children she is the best mother in the world. She also works full time to support her family.

God knows, what it was, but it changed her life.