She Won't Reveal 15

                    She Won’t Reveal (15)

                  Nidhu Bhusan Das

The stone angel’s now abed. She’s lying on her back, with the eyes turned to the ceiling. The clouded eyes couldn’t see beyond but the silence suggested she’s away from the room, and her mind soared into the realm of the clouds over the mighty Himalayas. She’s alone even in the presence of Sujata who’s beside her, consoling the silent soul mate.Sujata felt her forehead burning. It happens when she broods. All her energy gathers between the brows on the forehead. This state continues for hours. She arose at about midnight, pacified. All through Sujata remained awake. She smiled, as if an answer to her problem had been found.

 However, the tranquility’s short-lived. The manic depression and the attendant tendency to commit suicide revisited her. The lids of the tired eyes of Sujata went to rest and a slumber visited her. Anu left the bed at dawn, which isn’t her wont. Professor Sanyal, an early riser, saw her loitering in the drawing room often looking at the stationery ceiling fan. He became apprehensive, a foreboding gripped him. He decided he’d engage 
her in a conversation. He called her,” Auntie, what’s up there? I see you’re an early riser. It’s good for health and creative thought. Let’s talk away the vacant moments.”

Startled, Anu said,” Let’s, son.”
“How did you come to have Angshu?” asked the Professor.
“It’s serendipitous.”
“Interesting! Please tell me the story.”
“It’s a Sunday, a sultry summer evening. I was in the drawing room in a 
vacant mood. It’s just a month that I had come to the house. I heard someone opening 
the front gate. I looked out and saw a person, willing to come in. With beads of sweat 
on the face, he looked like a morning bloom bathed in dew. I opened the door and he said he’s enchanted by the beauty of my garden. I invited him into the drawing room. He began to talk on the flowers and plants of the garden and appreciated the selection. I gave him water and some sweets. He drank the water, didn’t touch the sweets, 
thanked me, rose from the sofa and motioned to go out. Don’t you like sweets?” I asked.
“I’m fond of sweets, but won’t have any now,” he said, seriously.
“But you look tired. Why don’t you rest here for some time?” I urged.
He smiled and said,” Rest’s forbidden for me.”
“Is it? Where’re you from?”
“Bengal. I like the Himalayas. I’m looking for my mom here. She’s 
left me a year ago for heaven. Whenever I find time I go out to trace her. You look and 
behave like my mom. May I call you mom?” he asked earnestly.
“Oh, really! Am very happy to be your maa, sorry, mom.”
“It’s really nice you’re my mom, sweet maa.”
“Are you a Bengali?”
“Very much and, therefore, you’re my maa.”
“You’re hundred percent my chhele (son), tiny chhele.”
“Have you a grown up son?”
“No, you’re my first and last chhele.”
“So, you’ll address me from now on as chhele.”
“I’ll. Where’re you lodged here?”
“At Hotel Cynthia.”
“Can’t you stay with your maa?’
“It’s too early. Don’t love and believe people at first sight. It’s simply unwise, maa, he suggested pensively, and crossed the threshold and the gate as I looked on.”

“This serendipitous meeting set me brooding. I began to think,’ Is it 
something God willed for me?’ He’s angelic in look and prophetic in speech. The 
meeting and what he said continued to haunt me. I felt to be in bliss.”

“Auntie, let me go bring hot tea from the vendor on the pavement. His 
tea’s excellent.” 

The Professor left the room for Anu to be alone for some time. Anu 
looked on at the framed pictures of the Professor’s Maa and the betrothed who fell 
victim to a fatal accident. This tragedy turned out to be a turning point in his life. 
 “He’s, said Sujata, determined to remain a confirmed bachelor, and doesn’t shilly-shally about it. Why can’t I be like him? Is it because she’s departed the world-stage and he’s still active on the stage?” she introspected.

The Professor’s back with tea. He poured the tea into cups and brought biscuits.

“Auntie, take the tea, and here’s the biscuit.” Anu awoke from her trance, and began to sip.

“Now tell the rest of the story of your son. It’s interesting,” the professor’s eager.
“Well, the next day in the morning, making coffee I drove to the hotel. At the reception I asked for his room. The receptionist called him by intercom and told I’d come to visit him. Within minutes he came down to receive me with enthusiasm. He took me to the room. I poured coffee for us into the cups I took with me. We’d a wonderful 
interaction.
‘Why did you take so much pain to come here, Maa? You could well call me,’ he said with humility. I said,’ It’s my duty to see that my son’s the beverage soon after he gets up. I drove back home with him, and he turned out to be my God-given son.”
“Then you must be happy, as my Maa is happy having me,” said the 
Professor, affectionately.
“I’m. But some people don’t like it. Their interest may be in my 
unhappiness.”
“Who’re they, how they’re linked with you?” the Professor tried to probe.
“They’re those who want me reconciled with Arup, and Arup himself’s jealous of Angshu.”
“How do you know?”
“Nilu’s made it clear to me.”
“Oh!”
“She often tells me ‘you’re harbouring a serpent, Arup’s concerned about your relation with Angshu.’ It isn’t acceptable, son.”
“It matters little if you can have faith on Angshu. They don’t understand. Forgive their ignorance,” the Professor tried to justify the relation.
“I know they don’t understand anything beyond materialism.”
“So, have faith on your wisdom. They’re not to understand why Siddhartha opted to renounce the throne and became the Buddha.”

Mollified, Anu sank into a reverie. The Professor, his gaze on the stationery ceiling fan, let her be in that state. He thought how the fan which generates cool air when the temperature’s high could also be an instrument of death for those who choose to be self-killers. He knows manic depression is characterized by alternating episodes of an elevated mood and depression. When the mood’s elevated i.e. in a state of mania, an individual feels abnormally happy, energetic, or irritable when poor decisions’re made due to unrealistic ideas or poor regard of consequences. The Professor knows psychotherapy’s a reliable treatment of the ailment. He called Sujata to his study and told her what he’d seen and perceived of the movement of Anu at dawn. He asked her to prevent Anu from going to the remote village on official duty, or to accompany her 
when she’s in such a state.

 “Is this a recurring phenomenon with her?” he would like to know.

“I don’t know exactly but her mood swings quite often,” she said.

“Is it the problem from her childhood?” he asked.

”No, No, not that. She’d like to talk, laugh heartily and was skipping about. She’s known as rocking & charming Anu. This problem set in after her failed love,” she informed

.“How do you say it’s failed love?” asked the Professor.
“She says it’s their mutual failure. She persuaded Arup to marry Mita.But I’ve doubts. “
“Grounds of your doubts?”
“Had her Thammi been not there to help her, she’d have been no more 
to be with us here today.”
“You mean she’s deceived herself and, overtly, still in self-deception?”
“She isn’t in the habit of accusing others for anything wrong. Rather she blames herself for being unable to cope with situations.”
“It’s heavenly of sorts, but human beings cannot be Mahadeva i.e., God-like to be able to absorb poison.” 
“How can she get rid of the problem?”
“Let’s think,” said the Professor, his posture grave.

Anu’s still in her reverie. Her mind traveled in the realms of clouds and descended back as Arup appeared in her thought. What does it mean? She’s confused. Will she respond to the advance of her former bf? Ne’er, she’s still certain. But human psyche’s unpredictable. (continued on 17^th July 2014)