She Won't Reveal( 6)

She Won’t Reveal (6) 

Nidhu Bhusan Das

Premonition and foreboding haunts Anu. This leads her to be a cynic and pessimist. While talking to me today, she reproduced the conversation Sujata had with her son sometime back .This bears out how Anu shares the feeling and thought of Sujata who is obviously her externalized mind.

It’s a poignant situation, in the drawing room of Professor Swapan Sanyal.Sujata is face to face with her son. This week their communication has disrupted for four days for reasons beyond their control. Sujata didn’t find her son on telephone several times and dashed him an emotional note which reads:

“Dear son,

I understand you don’t find it useful to interact with me. I have telephoned you again and again but you have been silent. You may have done the right thing. I’m not the right person for a scholar like you to interact with since I’m not an academic. I’ve decided I shan’t talk to you to disturb you any more.

Sujata”

Receiving the letter, Prof Sanyal rushed to her flat and found it locked even when it’s lunch time on Sunday. Frustrated, he scribbled a note for Sujata thus:

“Dear MAA,

I’m not sure, maybe this is my last message for you. It’s unfortunate you have decided unilaterally to snap relation with me, hasn’t tried to understand why you didn’t get response to your call. My telephone is dead more than a week. If you had heard it ringing, it’s definitely false ring.  You may ask why I haven’t taken the initiative. I’ve been suffering from viral fever since Thursday. You’re in my mind always but I’m helpless. I also may have the egotistical feeling,” Why my MAA doesn’t visit me when I’m unavailable by phone?” Well, since you have decided not to interact with me, I tend to respect your decision, and I’ll henceforth not disturb you.

Bye for ever.

Your would-be-forgotten

Son”

P.S. I’ll ever remember you as my MAA.

Prof Sanyal walked straight back to his flat.Feeble and tired, he lay on the bed with eyes surveying vacantly the white ceiling. Eventually the spirit of his departed mother was felt to be hovering over him. He felt like being in a séance with his mother. He had a conversation with his mother.” Why are you so put out, son?” asked the mother, benignly.

“You know, Maa what has gone wrong.”

“Yes. It’s an emotional decision hastily taken.Sujata is young and sincere. So, she was hurt when she didn’t get response to her calls. It’s natural, you know, son. She won’t leave you.”

“Are you sure, Maa?”

“Yes. She is lonely like you. The relation with you has given her a new meaning in life. Do you know what has happened to her?”

“She hasn’t told me.”

“Her love has gone unrequited. They had the plan to migrate to the USA, go for a course in film studies and then get married.”

“Then?’

“Her classmate-lover dropped midway through the course at JNU and left for the USA to study medicine.”

“Is it? Quite disappointing, isn’t it, MAA?”

“Of course. But he’s a good boy, honest and hearty. He’d always keep contact with her.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“She couldn’t accept the fact that he reneged on the commitment they would go to the US together and tie the knot there. Back home, he requested her hand but she declined.”

“She’d remain alone?”

“That’s her decision. She’d never marry.”

“I’m sorry, Maa. I shouldn’t react so rashly. Should I rush to her now?”

“She’s coming to you. She’ll tell you everything.”

“She’s quite stoical.”

“She attempted self-elimination twice, but optimism pulled her back. Now she’d live for you.

 Three hours glided by, in peace, tranquility and ecstasy. This stance got broken following a repeated knock on the door. Reluctantly he staggered to the door and opened it. Stunned, he saw Sujata standing eagerly to meet him.

Sujata was away from home having brunch for shopping. She does weekly shopping on Sundays. Back home, she found the scribbled note attached to the lock. She opened the door, went inside, put down the bags hurriedly and perused the note. She couldn’t wait a minute, immediately ran downstairs and onto the road. She got down a rickshaw and told the puller to go to Skylark Apartments, near the central bus terminus.

Now, Prof. Sanyal and his earthly mother are face-to-face.” You may leave me if you wish. I know, this was inevitable. Who am I to you? None remains with me. God has not given me anything but a void. I’d ask God after I die why He brings for me sweet dreams which are elusive,” opened Sujata, overwhelmed with sadness, tears rolling town her cheeks.

“I never thought of leaving you, MAA,” assured Prof Sanyal.

“But why have you told you won’t talk to me and disturb me? Have I ever said you disturb me?” Sujata interrogated, cheeks drenched.

“You’ve decided, MAA,”the professor defends himself.

“Even then you can’t say this, son,” Sujata reasoned emotionally.

“You said you won’t talk to me,” Prof Sanyal reminded her.

“I also said, earlier, I’d live for you, didn’t I?” she emphasized.

“That’s true. But why did you say you disturb me talking. Is it expected of a mother?

“Yes, and I can say this because I’m the mother.”

“You don’t think of my feeling.”

“Okay, son, I’ve no desire to live.”

“Why MAA?”

“I cannot read human mind, understand people.”

“So what?”

“Not even yours, my son.”

“I’m your son, that you understand, MAA!”

“I’m not sure, son. None remains with me.”

“I’ll be with you always, MAA.But why do you say so? Do you feel let down, somehow?”

“You’ve been told, son during the séance with your departed Maa.”

“How do you know?”

That’s the point, my son.” And she proceeds,” Human psyche is incomprehensible, son. Are you sure you’d not leave me?”

“I can’t leave you, MAA.”

“But someone left me midway through an affair, forgetting a commitment.”

“Who?’

“We vowed to marry going together to the USA.”

“It’s a marriage vow, almost.”

“You may say so.”

What went awry?”

“He went alone.”

“Is it?”

“But he was honest. He’d to yield to the wishes of his scientist father. He always communicated with me as usual.”

Then what’s the problem?”

“Somehow his commitment failed.I, therefore, told him,’ let’s stop here. This far, no farther.’ He agreed, reluctantly. He knew I won’t go to him. We’re friends since childhood.”

Prof. Sanyal knows all wishes ain’t fulfilled, all dreams don’t come true. Human mind’s unpredictable.Sujata agrees. Emotional relations need be renewed every moment. Any disharmony at any point may change the architecture of the relation, as happened in the case of Sujata.In his case the dream couldn’t materialize as the external agency came in the way. Prof. Sanyal asked Sujata, as we often do when in doubt on fundamental issues,” Do you think, MAA God is there to fulfil our good desires?

“May be He does.”

“Then why did He fail me? Why was the car crash that jeopardized my future?”

“He might have let it happen for your good.”

“I don’t understand. It appears He’s malevolent.”

“We can’t say so. Think how little do we know about Him and His scheme of things.”

Prof. Sanyal agrees. We ordinary people can’t interact with Him. We may perceive Him in enlightened moments which are ephemeral. But what’s true in the experience of the professor is his regular interaction with his departed mother. He values the relation with Sujata because his mother from above approves of and encourages it. Sujata might have found that Prof. Sanyal is emotionally honest who won’t be influenced by anybody in extraneous consideration to leave her. Yet she’s aware human mind is a great mystery, greater than the vast universe.

“Mr. Bose, how do you like the tale?” asked Anu smiling.

“It’s interesting.”

I find it really difficult to choose between fact and fiction. Does Anu live in a world of fiction, ignoring fact? Has she created an ideal world to live in? I’m puzzled. What I understand is that she isn’t happy with what she has experienced in real life. The Guernica is based on the brutality of the Spanish Civil War, the Last Supper presents a theological belief and Mona Lisa is a mystery created out of a real model. Theological belief is also a reality in the life of believers.Anu, therefore, may have created, if any, a world of fiction which is rooted in reality. (  continued on 13th March 2014 )

She Won't Reveal(5)

AShe Won’t Reveal (5) 

Nidhu Bhusan Das

The next evening while I was in chat with Anu at her bungalow in the absence of Nilu, I couldn’t but remember Albert Einstein who said,” Be a loner. That gives you time to wonder, to search for the truth. Have holy curiosity. Make your life worth living.”Anu appeared to be a confirmed loner and wise in her unique way, and in search of a truth. I asked her if it’s possible for me to have communion with my departed mother as she has claimed to have with her grandma. She smiled primly and related a story. She said one Sujata Dhar, a colleague now at the LIC told her the story. Actually, by the by, I had told her I would visit my senior friend Professor Swapan Sanyal in Guwahati on my way back to Kolkata.”What is he?” she asked.” He is a Prof of Parapsychology at Guwahati University,” I told her.” How do you know him?” she wanted to know.” He’s from Kolkata, and was our neighbour,”I said. She smiled.” Do you know him?” I asked, hesitating.”I have been told of someone of such an identity. My colleague who was my classmate at JNU told me about the professor. They came to know each other as co-passengers during a train journey,” she said, casually.

 She began like an ace story teller. It all began on the Delhi-Dibrugarh Town Rajdhani Express. Professor Swapan Sanyal boarded the train at New Delhi station at 1.30 p.m. on A/C three-tier coach no. A 4. He had the lower berth. The departure time was 2 p.m. Passengers were busy boarding. There were bustles in the coach with people looking for their berths and taking possession. A lanky girl with gold rimmed spectacles in jeans found her berth and sat beside Prof. Sanyal with all humility. Her eyes were sharp and dreamy. Prof. Sanyal was reading the JP Journal of Parapsychology published from Rhine Research Centre, Durham, North Carolina, USA. The girl showed interest and peered through her spectacles at the cover visible in the hand of the reader.

The train left on time. Passengers were well settled on the lower berths for now. Some were talking, some were reading newspapers, magazines or books, and some were busy with laptops, tabs or mobile phones. Only the girl was seen to be without such busyness. Her gaze was on the journal in the hand of Prof. Sanyal and a heap of books beside him. The books included Best Evidence by Michael L. Schmicker, Parapsychology: The Controversial Science by Richard S. Broughton, An Introduction to Parapsychology by H.J. Irwin and paranormal romance Dark Lover (Black Dagger Brotherhood) by J.R. Ward. The girl was aware of the books and the journal. She, in fact, read most them for exam at JNU. She became curious but dared not disturb Prof.Sanyal who was engrossed in his study. She decided she would talk to the scholarly man in his late fifties. His broad head was covered with grey hair, eyes under spectacles looked piercing and brows were heavy. She thought she would get the chance when coffee and snacks would be served a couple of hours from now. It would be nice if the elderly co-passenger travel most of nearly 39 hour-journey of the train. They boarded the train on 16 May 2013, Saturday and she would disembark at Guwahati on Sunday midnight. Her office car would be there to take her to the residence. She was thinking of the paranormal, and the time sped by.

Meanwhile, she began to doze and went into a cat-nap. She was awakened by the call of the waiter for coffee and snacks. She went to the basin to wash and came back quickly. She found the elderly man sipping coffee. Taking her cup of coffee she in a low tone said to the co-passenger: “Sir, are you a man of parapsychology?” The gentleman, did off his spectacles, looked up, gazed at her, smiled and said,” Yes, this is my subject.”

“Are you in teaching, sir?” she asked.

“Yes, at Guwahati University,” he said.

“I studied parapsychology,” she informed.

“Where?” asked the man.

“At JNU, sir,” she replied.

“Then you may know Professor Durjhati Chaudhury,” he said.

“He was our teacher, sir,” she said.

“Prof Chaudhury is my friend,” he said, beaming.

“Is it? Then you must be a great professor. May I know your name, sir?” she was curious.

“Swapan Sanyal,” he said.

“O my God! You’re a Bengali. I’m so happy,” she exclaimed.

“You’re from…….,” he wanted to know.

“From Kolkata. Now I live in Guwahati,” she said.

“Perhaps, on job,” he asked.

“Yes sir, I’m an LIC officer.”

“You’re promising.”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Your name?”

“Sujata Dhar, sir.”

“Beautiful name, mom. The very name suggests you are from a noble family.”

 “But, sir, I can’t approve of Mom,” she said smiling.

“Can’t you accept me as your son?” he asked, a bit put out.

”Yes, you’re my son. But I’m your MAA, not mom.”

“Oh! That’s your point. Okay, MAA. I’ll be happy to call you MAA.”

“Now, why do you feel I’m your MAA?”

“You’re like my MAA who passed away five years from now after a tragic incident,” he said in a choked voice, eyes clouded with tears.

Sujata couldn’t hold back her tears perceiving the turbulence in the elderly professor who outwardly appeared to be strong willed and dry of emotions.

The conversation couldn’t proceed further. The professor appeared to be not in a mood to continue with his pain. He was again engrossed in his reading. Sujata now tried to understand how parapsychology might have been an area of his satisfaction being able to be in communion with his departed mother through it. Here she found a likeness between him and her. Though more than twice her age, she felt the call MAA ringing in her ears. She knew she would never marry and be a mother, yet the very sweet call MAA set her stirring. She could be in link with her departed mother through this medium. The loss of the mother was irreparable to her. She had none in the physical world around to communicate with now in the mother’s absence, to share her feelings and problems, to seek and get advice. This is her tragic situation. In the past the mother provided solace and empathetic advice when she was in serious emotional troubles. She remembered how the persuasions of the mother helped her alter the decision to leave the world at a tender age. It’s in consultation with the mother, she decided to live a virgin life, even away from father.

The professor closed the journal after about an hour, and looked at her with affection. He brought out dried dates and raisins from his bag and asked her to share. She did. “Is it your first posting, MAA?” he asked. “Yes, sir,”she said. “No, no, not sir, call Chhele (son),” he reacted. “Okay baba, you’re my chhele. Are you happy, now?” she showed filial pity.

“Why did they post you in the north-east? They don’t have sense and sensibility,” he commented.

“No sir, I opted,” she said.

“Naughty MAA, why such option?”

“You won’t understand, son. I want to be far away.”

“What for, MAA?”

“I’d tell you one day,” she assured, suggesting that she would like to continue with the relation beyond the journey.

Then they talked about Delhi, Kolkata and Guwahati. Her interest was concentrated on Guwahati. She said she would like to have a home in a secluded place in the Assam Himalaya.

Dinner over, she arranged the bed for the professor and asked him to lie down.”No more study, son. It’s time for you to sleep,” she said authoritatively. She herself climbed the middle berth above him, and told him to call her if and when he would go to the bathroom.” Son, don’t move alone. Call me,” she said. The light was switched off. The mom-son interaction ceased for now. But both of them went to sleep ruminating over the heavenly relation that emerged between them. Maybe, they had sweet dreams on it.

The train was yet to traverse half the distance when most of the passengers were out of bed. Sujata helped the professor when it was time for tea and breakfast, like an affectionate mother taking care of her little child. Prof. Sanyal couldn’t understand how this little girl could have so intense a mother in her in a while.”Son, take the biscuit and tea,” she said to the professor, affectionately.”Won’t you, maa?” he asked, overwhelmed.

“Son, when do you rise in the morning, usually?” she asked.

“At 6.”

“Do you have bed-tea?”

“No. it’s not possible.”

“Why, son?”

“I live alone.”

“Your family?”

“I’m my family.”

“Son, I’m sorry, so sad,” she said, taken aback.

“No, maa, how would you know I’m without a family, and why?”

“But it’s sad, son.”

“I’d tell you, maa.”

The train was racing like a jet. After breakfast the professor began to pour out his mind. He said, after he had joined as a lecturer in the Psychology Department of Guwahati University, his mother decided his girl friend and batch mate at Calcutta University Kavita Chakravorty would be his partner-in-life. In fact, the two families had agreed in the union, and a date, 25th Baishakh 1390(9^th May) was fixed for the wedding. A week from the wedding, a tragedy struck Prof Sanyal when way back from shopping Kavita,in a car crash on G.T. Road died on the spot. He got the news in the newspapers next morning. He along with his mother rushed to their house immediately and found the family in mourning. Stunned, he decided he would never marry. He still wears the ring-in-benediction in memory of Kavita. His mother died within five years of the tragedy, mourning with her son all the years the death of Kavita.

With choked voice and tearful eyes, the professor said,” I’m in communion with Kavita and my mother, always.”

“Is it?” asked Sujata.

“Yes, and my mother is with Kavita. They’re together as mother-in-law and daughter-in-law,” he claimed, smiling sadly.

“Are they happy?” I asked.

“They always smile on me,” he said, with confidence.

The story appeared to be a meta-fiction or a fact-in-fiction.

“Who’s Sujata other than Anusuya?” I asked the story teller.

“You mean impersonation?” she shot back and began to talk on the chill of the night.(continued on 27 February 2014)

She Won't Reveal(4)

 

           She Won’t Reveal (4) 

                                 Nidhu Bhusan Das

I can’t believe a disturbed mind could ensure punctuality. At 3 p.m. Anu came downstairs and marched to the garage, followed by Nilu. Smartly, she drove the car out and onto the road. Nilu and I embarked. Nilu took the front seat beside Anu, I am on the back seat. It’s an advantage; my brooding mood is on.

Anu drives well, knows about the nature of hill roads. She is aware of what gear 
to use or how to go without overcooking brakes. She has full control over the 
vehicle. Our journey is a cakewalk, indeed. We are towards the direction of the 
sun, and the louder the echo of the thunder generated by the perennial fall of 
the water from above, the more I am thrilled to be near Thlumwi. At the steering, 
Anu is silent. I enjoy the ride, and the smoothness of it has brought in me a 
poetic imagination. I feel the journey uphill causes the ascent of the 
mind.Anu must have the same feeling. She is absorbed. She might have forgotten 
what has gone wrong in respect of her love, and she looks like an exalted soul behind the steering. Was it the same exalted feeling that helped the sages in the Himalayas 
go transcendental? One can attain profundity in thought in the primordial 
silence, punctuated by rhythmic sound of Nature in the lonely nooks of mountains. 
This part of Assam Himalaya is populated and is, therefore, not a tranquil corner 
for meditation and enlightenment. But one can bury the turmoil in mind if one is 
aware of the sight and sound of Nature here. Anu might have found it and has 
chosen the place for her abode.

I felt a mild jerk. Anu looked back and said,”Mr. Bose we have reached.” She disembarked and opened the rear door for me. Her humility is unforgettable. If humility and credulity are her weak points in the world replete with crafty and cunning people around, determination is the strong point which helps her negotiate difficult situations.  Her determination emanates from her innocence. As she leads us along the paved way to the waterfall, I see her gait which manifests her determination.

We sat on a bench stuck to the ground for tourists. Nilu decided we should have a photo session. She asked a tourist to shoot and gave her the camera. Several shots were taken.Nilu is exuberant. She talks and keeps the company lively, just a foil to Anu. When she talks, I remember Victor Hugo who says,” When a woman is talking to you, listen to what she says with her eyes.”Nilu’s eyes talk as the smile and silence of Anu do. Nilu usually avoid eye contact while she talks to Anu. Her pupils dilate when the topic is Arup.

Nilu opened the flask and poured black coffee into paper-cups. While drinking hot coffee I noticed Nilu had a sly gaze on Anu who was in conversation with me on the serenity of the area we were on visit. I tried to read the face of the foil to deduce what could be the nature of the friendship between the two girls. I also recalled.Prafullada had informed me, that Jerry visited Nilu at her home. Did Nilu report back to Anu what transpired in the meeting she had with Jerry? Did she at all inform Anu of such a meeting? If not, why? How come Jerry felt he should visit Nilu away from Anu? Prafullada provided the clue. He said,”Nilu ma’am is interested to talk exclusively to any visitor of Anu ma’am. She will also talk to you, I’m sure.” I didn’t tell him Nilu had already talked to me yesterday in the morning for an hour at my hotel room.

The mellowed rays of the setting sun turns the waterfall resplendent but the gaze of Nilu does not lit the face of Anu.An ever present smile demonstrates her honesty and sincerity. While smiling, crow’s feet appear outside the eyes which confirm the honesty of Anu. “Mr. Bose, isn’t the sound angelic? I mean the sound of the cascade,” said Anu, philosophically.

“It’s harmonious,” I said, without much thought.

“We can believe the message in the sound,” she asserted.

“Message! What is it?” I enquired, surprised.

“Nature conveys the voice of God through her different sounds,” she said confidently.

“Is it?” I asked, naively.

“Mr. Bose, you might have heard of the Upanishads and the wisdom in those,” she said, with doubt.

“Yes… of the Vedic sages,” I tried to hide my ignorance, demonstrating smartness.

“The Upanishads tell us that the divine syllable ‘Aum’ is the cosmic vibration 
which underlies all existence. It’s soundless sound,” underscores Anu.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“When we speak we produce sounds of different pitches and intonations to mean 
different things,” she went on.
“So what?” I queried.
“Our speech doesn’t often correspond with our thought,” she explained.
“It happens,” I confirmed.
“You cannot be sure what I exactly mean when I speak to you. We don’t often speak 
our mind,” 
“Then?” I was eager.
“Only in monologue or soliloquy we are sincere,” she explicated.
“So, you’re often silent?” I demanded.
“Maybe. I have seen people don’t often speak their mind, “she said, confidently.
“You mean we may be misled if we go by the literal meaning of what is said?” I 
wanted to know.
“Exactly,” she was prompt.
“Then communication is difficult,” I said.
“I feel like that,” she noted.
“So you’re for soundless sound?” I asked
“Yes. I’m guided by a soundless sound every moment, “said she, confidently.
“Which sound,” I was curious.
“My thamma’s (grandma),” she said, promptly.
“In Kolkata?” I asked.
“In the firmament,” she said.
“Please clarify,” I requested.
“She left me long ago, and now is part of the immanent soul,” she said.
“So you feel lonely,” I suggested.
“I keep on living to adhere to my commitment,” she said.
“Your commitment?” I was inquisitive.
“I promised I would wait for her call from the above to join her,” she said.
“When you expect the call will come?” I asked
“After my son leaves,” she said.
“Your son!” I was astonished.
“Yes, my son and he replaced my thamma on the earth,” she asserted.
“How come, you have a son?” I enquired.
“I’m virgin mother,” she sought to clarify.
“Kunti Maa,” I said lightly.
“No, not Kunti Maa, my son isn’t Karna.I’ve only one son. I own him, we’re together,” she explained.
“He lives with you?”
“No, away from me. But we’re in constant communion.”
“Strange!”
“But true,” she asserted.
“Truth is elusive,” I suggested.

“My son is not,” she said firmly.

“What about Aum?” I wanted to know.
“For me a reliable sound is Aum, and I like the sound of Nature. I enjoy 
the sound here,” she said.
“How do you enjoy the talk with Nilu?” I asked to understand and evaluate their 
companionship.
“Nilu talks well,” she said looking at the friend.
“Regarding meaning and substance?” I asked
“Probably it’s time for us to go back,” she said, evading answer.

Obviously, Anu isn’t sure of Nilu. She spends time with her because Nilu is eager to be with her when she is free, and she also needs a companion to share feelings when at leisure and in pensive mood. But she wouldn’t speak her mind. We may understand the nature of the friendship between the two girls from the talk Nilu had with me. She has the impression and belief that Anu is in psychological trouble. She isn’t inclined to help Anu tide over the trouble, but interested in using her connections to advance her cause.

During the return journey Anu appeared to be relaxed. Maybe, it’s because she could share her thought and facts in the freedom of Nature. She drove straight to the hotel I put up in and bade me adieu. Back in the room I washed and changed. After a day of joy of companionship now a vacant mood set in. A couple of hours glided by. I went downstairs to the dining hall for supper. I fell in a kind of trance, and the supper over I found myself in the room. A train of thoughts came in and crowded my mind. How different the two girls are? One has developed the capacity to go transcendental, the other is so imbecile that she believes she would be able to exploit her, and they’re friends.

Nilu told me, confidently, Anu is an emotional wreck. “How do you say? I asked.

“I’ve come to know she is a victim of unrequited love?” she said.

“Is it?”

“I’ve gone through her diary.”

“Does she keep it open for all to read?”

“She keeps it in a drawer. I had access to it one day while she was late in returning.”

“Then you intruded upon her privacy?”

“Well, you can say so.”

“You’re so curious.”

“I’m interested in her connections in Delhi.”

“So, you’ve the tactical relation with her.”

“That’s true.”

“How much have you proceeded?”

“You know, I telephoned her bf Arup who married her friend Mita.”

“Did he show interest?”

“No, he was blasé, I mean uninterested.”

“Are you hopeful still?”

“Why not? His friend Jerry came recently with a missive from him. Arup is willing to get her back. But Jerry was hurt as Anu cold shouldered him.”

“How do you know Jerry was hurt?”

“He told me. We’re now good friends. He’s an academic. I’ve academic ambition, you know.”

She said she was hurt the way Anu was indifferent to Jerry, and expressed her tender feeling towards him. It appeared she wouldn’t hesitate to take on Anu to fulfill her ambition through Jerry. “Do you feel Anu should be taught a lesson for her behaviour with Jerry? “I asked. She remained silent which reminded me of J.K. Rowling saying (in ‘Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince’) “Harry was left to ponder in silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.”

“Did you tell Anu about the feeling of Jerry?” I asked.

“What’s the use of telling her?” she shot back, angrily.

“You could, as a friend,” I said, to understand her.

“You see, she is an emotional wreck. I’m with her for her connection; that’s all,” she said rudely.

Nilu told me she would leave for Shillong to attend a three-day seminar commencing on the next day on “Keatsean concept of Truth and Beauty in the light of Satyam, Shivam, and Sundaram”.(continued on 13 February2014)