Agastya : The War

15 : Double-Edged Emotions

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Dear Madame,
You don't know me. Neither do I know you. We are complete strangers, as of now. I cannot gauze how our fates has planned to tie us into nuptial rites. Nor can I assure our future for I am already in love with someone, with whom, I am sure you too would be delighted to fall in love with. Life is an unplanned journey! Indeed. Unplanned! I leave the decision to you whether or not you would hold my hand in this unplanned journey. I am writing this letter to you to tell you something more about myself, which I believe, are your virtues to know.
My biological father had been an affluent Calcutta-based industrialist. 'Gold' was our trade commodity. Unfortunately, two years ago when the British government was arresting Indian industrialists to put a thaw on the Indian trade and commerce, my father fell prey to it. He was cuffed and jailed. Perhaps, he had breathed his last in the jail cell. I say 'perhaps' since I was kept aloof from all this. Only last year when I happened to return from England, after completing my education, for the yearly rites of my mother, things unfolded infront of my eyes. The treasure-house that my father had built was shattered and devastated by his own blood relatives. My parents are said to have died on the same day, just twenty four years apart! Destiny!
Oh, I didn't mention to you about my mother. Perhaps, that's because I had only heard about her from my mother and seen her in the limited number of pictures that she had. People who get to seek love and blessings from their mothers are blessed, but people who are privileged don't dare to consider them as one. My mother had died of eclampsia, while giving birth to me. Poor me! Nonetheless, I was talking about my mother.
My mother was of Scottish descent, by birth. Baba often jested, that my mother's genes had overpowered his. He said that I looked like the exact replica of my mother, just the masculine version. That's the entire point of concern. My own blood relatives had abandoned me because I looked like an outsider. I never got the love and affection that the eldest child of the family usually gets. Perhaps, now they claim to have suddenly realized that I must not left alone, like a hapless loner. They're planning to get me married. And, the one whom they are planning to get me married is you.
Madame, I am a son of our India. India, the mother, who has not seen the rays of the liberal sunlight for decades. I am a part of the struggle to free her from the shackles of subservience. We are all indebted to the Mother for she has given us her womb to be nurtured, her bosom to be cradled, her vast verandahs to play, her infinite skies to fly and her colossal rivers to fed upon. Years passed, so did scores, yet we as children of Our Mother, have not been able to liberate her, get her, her own much deserved emancipation. I can sense that she is unable to suppress her tears anymore, and if we delay any longer, the suppressed cries will soon turn into vehement wails, for she is tired and can no longer bear the groaning loads of dependence. I am a part of the struggle that aims at helping the older generations to breather their last in independent India and our newer generations to breathe their first in independent India. This was all I had to say. However, I leave the decision upto you whether you want me to leave this struggle and live a sweet life with you or give our Mother India a chance to relive her long stolen sweet life. I promise to abide your own decision. Your decision is my command.
If you agree with the former condition, put a thumb print on the envelope that I had send with Nilambar, else leave the envelope blank.
Thanking you,
Yours faithfully,
Shivashish Ganguly

Suhashini Bannerjee had gained the courage to read the entire letter once again, for the first time after that very day. This, was more than a simply a letter. It was the key that had changed the her life to another direction. She recalled how he had thought that she was uneducated for he had asked her to print her thumb on the envelope that he had send through his friend, Barrister Nilambar Mukherjee. He had send Nilambar to read the letter to her and to carry her answer to him.

But, she had written another letter to him, stating that he should marry her first, otherwise her powerful Ray Bahadur father would leave no stone unturned to kill him. Then, he might leave her for the country as and when he might feel the need to do so. She had ended the letter with her signature and a drop of tear that had rolled down her cheeks.

Unfortunately, the day of departure was just the day after the wedding. How smoothly had he compelled everyone to be convinced that he was death! How can anyone make people forget one's own death so effortlessly! Suhash had wondered. That was it. Thereafter, there never heard of each other. And, Suhash had stepped into the path that her destiny had planned for her.

Suhashini Bannerjee had chosen widowhood. But, was she an actual widow?
Her husband is alive, isn't he?
Or is he not?
No..no..He is safe.
Was Suhash crying?
No..no..She wasn't. She wasn't crying.

A few mild knocks on the door has startled Suhash out of her thoughts. Wiping her face off the tears, she opened the way to the entrance of her isolated room to find Shoilo there.

"Didi...We have to go to meet the poor man who has been arrested, under the false pretext of being Agastya. Hurry up!" Shoilo said.

"I'm ready." Suhash replied fondly.

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Please answer this question, dear Readers : What do you think, what kind of a man Shivashish Ganguly is?

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