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)

She Won't Reveal (3)

        She Won’t Reveal (3)

              Nidhu Bhusan Das

The lunch over, Anu and Nilu went upstairs for rest, and I went to the guestroom. 
We were to go visit the Thlumuwi waterfall at 3p.m. I saw Prafullada at work in 
the garden. I decided it would be better to spend the time with the gardener. I 
went to the garden in no time and got involved with Prafullada in a lively and 
revealing talk. The gardener was thrilled when I sought to talk with him.
“I wonder at your sense of beauty and the way you laid out and maintain the 
garden, “I began.

“No, this is all ma’am's plan. I just executed,” he said, beaming.

“But one thing is missing conspicuously… the queen of flowers is nowhere,” I 
said.

“You mean rose? Ma’am wouldn’t have it,” he informed.

“Why?”

“She said she wouldn’t like to have her hands pricked with thorns.”

“What’s your view?”

“Roses enhance the beauty of a garden.”

“Does ma’am spend times regularly in the garden?”

“She does in the morning and the evening.”

“She’s happy to be here!”

“Often in the garden she remains brooding.”

“Talks to you, sometimes?”

“She does.”

“What does she talk about?”

“Weather and plants.”

“Family and friends?”

“No. Maintains privacy.”

As our afternoon chat continued, Prafullada became more interested in it than in 
the work of the garden. He was now more revealing. He volunteered to share 
certain information unasked for.” Last June mom of ma’am came,” he broke.

“Is it?”

“The moment auntie arrived one Sunday afternoon, it was all emotional.”

“It must be. Maybe they met after a long time,” I observed.

“Mother and daughter were locked in a hug for a long time, sir.”

“It’s natural.”

“They shed tears profusely, sir.”

“It’s a poignant time full of joy of get-together.”

“But there was no change in the mood of the two. No exuberance”

“Did ma’am spend extra time with her mom on weekdays? Did she take leave to be at 
home?”

“She didn’t change her daily routine.”

“How many days was she with ma’am?”

“Seven days.”

“How was the farewell?”

“It’s also highly emotional, tears and sobs. Ma’am took her to the waiting car. Stood there at the gate of the bungalow looking ahead as long as the car was in sight. She came back into the house head down, wiping eyes.”

“What would auntie do all the day in the absence of ma’am?”

“Read books and magazines.”

“Wouldn’t she come to the garden?”

“She would. She also felt the absence of roses.”

“Didn’t she ask you?”

“Yes. I said ma’am wouldn’t have them. She sighed and said the grass is lush 
green, well mowed.”

“Didn’t she appreciate your work?”

“She said she would take me to Kolkata to re-lay their garden. Said they would have new

Varieties of rose planted.”

“Where’s their house?”

“At Salt Lake.”

“Did you tell ma’am.”

“I did, sir.”

“What did she say?”

“Smiled.”

Anu has astonishing capacity to smile her way. Prafullada had never seen her in tears before the arrival and departure of her mother. He has been here since the time she came to the bungalow last September. The ground where the beautiful garden stands now was full of bushes and weeds. He made it into a garden according to her plan and instruction. He broke information.

“Sir, a friend of ma’am also came,” said Prafullada.

“Is it? When? From Kolkata?” I was inquisitive.

“Last June, from Delhi,” he said.

“His name?”

“Ma’am called him Jerry.”

“He stayed here?” I wanted to know.

“One night, in my room downstairs.”

“Any special dinner for the friend?”

“No, it’s as usual.”

“Why you think there’s nothing special?”

“At night in my room sir said some Arup Sen sent him.”

“What for?”

“He said Arupbabu was classmate and bf. What is bf, sir?”

“Friend, nothing special.”

“Jerry sir said the classmate is engineer in Delhi. He has a son.”

I decided no more on this and asked Prafullada about the summer flowers of the 
garden. But he was interested to continue.

“After Jerry sir‘s visit, ma’am one Sunday over morning tea was talking about 
Arupbabu to Nilu ma’am.”

“Interesting!” I said.

“I saw her wiping eyes while talking. Nilu ma’am was consoling her.”

“Nilu is a good friend,” I said.

“Ma’am was saying he had married her friend Mita, and she helped it happen.”

“Nothing wrong. Good friendship,” I said.

“But Nilu ma’am was telling ma’am had been wronged, deceived,”
“I don’t think so,” I said to clear doubt of Prafullada, if any.
“Ma’am said they deceived each other,” Prafullada continued.
What Prafullada reported raises questions. Did he exactly hear the conversation 
between Anu and Nilu? Could he understand? Can he be relied on as a dependable 
observer? He reported Arupbabu was Anu’s bf, he married her friend Mita, she 
consented to and helped the marriage and significantly they deceived each other. 
Anu wiped her eyes while talking. Apparently, this is confusing. If a bf marries 
the friend of his gf, it could be the case of triangular love in which the friend 
wins to the frustration of the gf. Or, contrary to the belief of the gf, the 
winner was the actual gf. Another possibility is that each of the girls was made to 
believe separately that she was his gf. In the age of mobile phones, it’s not 
impossible. What is intriguing is that Anu said they deceived each other.

I understand Prafullada is privy to talk and discussions between Anu and Nilu. Also he is willing to share what he knows. Being interested in my desire to know he has brought a crinkled piece of paper and spread it on the garden table for me to read. It contains vital clues:

“Dear Anu,

Jerry goes to you. He is my emissary. Please read the note and listen to what he says.

Mita cannot forget the betrayal of Kuldip and sacrifice of you. She lives in the memory of the days we four friends were in rocking mood. It’s decided you and I would be a couple and Mita would marry Kuldip. Mita, somehow, blundered when she failed to resist the libidinous advances of Kuldip. She bore the love-child of Kuldip in her womb. Kuldip favoured an abortion which Mita could not accept as the mother in her had arisen. Kuldip in guilt left her and went to the USA. Mita broke down and shared with you her thought of committing suicide. To help your friend you insisted on my marrying Mita. After long sessions of discussions and persuasion I reluctantly accepted your emotional arguments. You wore a cheerful look all through the process till the marriage was solemnized. You didn’t look at me during the wedding ceremony, instead, kept yourself busy with entertaining guests. But while you bade good night as we were on the bridal bed, I noticed your desperate attempt to hide tears.

Mita also cannot help remembering your monumental sacrifice. Her conscience beats. She says,’ I’m a trespasser in the bed which belongs to Anu. I cannot share the bed with you.’ She maintains the sanctity. Now, she is desperate to leave me. Says, ’I must vacate the place for Anu who has the right to it.’ She has proposed a divorce. She would go back to her parents who also feel you should get back your rightful place.

Now, I seek your opinion. I’m eager to get you for life.

I hope you would respond positively.

With love

Yours ever

Arup.”

The missive is a testament to the sacrifice of Anu for a friend. Anu read it, probably several times. Yet she believes they deceived each other. Why? She persuaded Arup to marry Mita. Arup reluctantly gave in to her persuasion. The psychology is difficult to understand. True, Jerry wasn’t a welcome guest in her house. He had to put up in the room of the gardener. Had she listened to the request of Arup, she would have given him a hearing and allowed him in the guestroom. That didn’t happen. Anu is introspective. She has always been since childhood. The loneliness at home made her introvert. She found her companion in her inner self, as a lonely pedestrian on the street in a moonlit night may find his shadow his companion. She introspects and recalls her days and exclusive moments with Arup who had been quite genial and sensitive.

 From Arup’s note it’s clear, he is not responsible for his knot with Mita. The persuasion of Anu led to this. Anu may blame her selflessness and emotional response to the situation. Why, then, does she assert that both of them are responsible? This is puzzling, really, I thought.

Mita paves the way for Anu to be in union with Arup in the long run. Here again Anu’s attitude is puzzling. She didn’t entertain Jerry which, prima facie, suggests she cannot cope with the developments. One may suggest this is a self-defeating/self-undoing behaviour. Is she gratified by personal misfortunes, failures and ordeals? What she tells Nilu is rarely heard of and expected: “No, I cannot see Mita break from Arup. I cannot see it happen.” Nilu smiles, one of her wily smiles.  

(continued on 30 January 2014)