The Unventured Passions Book-2

Burn the Midnight Oil

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It is said, that morning shows the day, but sometimes it's the night that recounts the true story of the morning, and unfolds the tale of the day that is to follow. It wasn't night yet, late evening rather, when Anirudh and Bondita came upstairs to their bedroom after finishing the simple dinner that was served at the mahogany curved dinning table at the Roy Chowdhury haweli.
It was Mahasurjograhan... It was Ekadoshi too, the eleventh day of the moon, and as per his self inflicted practice, Trilochan Roy Chowdhury fasted along with the widow house helps whose life was dictated majorly by the lunar cycles, leaving the rest of it to the mercy of the orthodox society.
Hence that evening, the presence of only three were observed at the dinner table. Anirudh, Bondita and ofcourse Bhargavi, the three occupying their chairs with rather drawn faces, as that evening, on Anirudh's insistence to serve something light and healthy to his ailing wife, the cooked food had turned out to be too bland to nudge the taste buds with delight.

"Batuk would have never touched this food!" Bondita had pouted a complaint, but before her husband could reply, they both were a little baffled at how little Bhargavi had jumped up at the reference.

"Then I'd have fried him some Pabda, his favourite you know, or... or, may be some kheer... rice kheer ofcourse... He loves it!"

Bhargavi had sounded exuberantly enthusiastic than usual, and the glee spark in her orbs weren't missed by either Bondita or Anirudh, as even through the fat glasses she wore, the emotions reflected from them were pretty obvious.

"You are fond of him, aren't you?" Bondita had smiled at her, and it made the girl lower her gaze at once.

"We... We do math together."
She had cleared her throat and fiddled with the plain white khichdi that lay cold on her plate.
"And he was to teach me calculus, and we planned for a school tour in Calcutta..."

Bhargavi hadn't lifted her eyes that evening, not even once, but her voice made it evident the way she missed him. Bhargavi kept speaking of Batakrishna that evening, and hearing her rave, Bondita had exchanged a glance with Anirudh pressing her lips in a meaningful smirk.

"So your school haan? I was talking to Kaka and I'll see that you get to join the new academic session. Meanwhile, prepare yourself well."
Anirudh had diverted the discussion, and all Bhargavi did for the rest of the meal was nodding her head silently, lost in some unknown thoughts, mostly smiling.

"He said he'd take me for a tour before school starts..." She had murmured once.

The evening hadn't grown much older when Anirudh had kissed their daughter goodnight to retire to his wife.

"Do you think Bhargavi likes Batuk?" Bondita was the first to bring it up.
She was half lying on the bed, playing with her long dark locks, while Anirudh busied himself in lighting an oil lamp after he had shut the rattling window panes of their third floor bedroom.
It was windy outside, and the electricity invariably was gone for the night. In their familiar ornamented bedroom, Bondita left her locks and started to draw patterns in the shadow of the lamp, letting a potpourri of light and shade dancing on her face.

"Everyone likes Batuk, he's a likable boy."
Anirudh's reply was rather plain, as he pulled his kurta over his head and sank in the bed beside Bondita, bare bodied, with a white cotton trousers hanging dangerously low on his ripped toned waist.
Bondita was smiling playfully, as she leaned forward to catch hold of Anirudh's sacred thread hanging from the shoulder, and then she sank back into the pillow once again, her fingers tangled, playing with the thread unmindfully, the way she would always do.