By Shevlin Sebastian
Barnali Mitra walks on bare feet, as if in slow motion on a bund between two paddy fields. She leans forward as she walks, looking at the ground. It is a misty morning. The sun hides behind clouds. She sees greyness all around. But when she looks down, she sees lustrous green saplings in the paddy fields. She observes they are only six inches tall. There is a layer of water in the fields. Barnali hears insects flying about. She also notices a couple of earthworms wriggling their red bodies across the wet mud by the bund.
But Barnali’s mood is heavy. It has been heavy for one-and-a-half years, because she lost her husband Aveek. He was crossing the highway. A truck ran over him. He died on the spot. This was the news report she often read in newspapers. But Barnali never imagined it would happen to somebody so close to her. Barnali did not recover. She was still in mourning. Hence, she wore no earrings or necklaces, nose or toe rings, make-up, lipstick, eyeliner or nail polish.
The villagers were worried. After six months, they told her to get over it. Barnali did not respond. One elderly man, in a white banian and loose-fitting pyjamas said, “You are young. Life is ahead. You have no children. There is nothing holding you back.”
Barnali stared at the old man. Her nose twitched as she felt an odour coming from his mouth. It seemed he had not brushed his teeth. ‘Here was somebody who was more bothered by what others did,’ she thought. ‘But he had forgotten to brush his teeth.’
What could she tell the old man?
Barnali nodded, smiled briefly, and walked away. Barnali always felt that words aggravated the issue. Silence quietened people. They calmed down. So she never responded to endless advice.
She herself was not sure why she continued to grieve. It was a weight she could not throw away. Like something was stuck in her throat. Like her legs felt leaden. There was no feeling in them. She walked barefoot. She hoped that when her soles touched the earth, she would experience something within her. But there was nothing. It seemed like she was floating instead of walking.
Maybe one day, she would shake off her lethargy and start living. If she had a child, it would have been the right distraction. Now, she lives alone, in a house purchased by her husband in her name. ‘Thank God for that,’ she thought. ‘Now nobody could take it away from me. Maybe Aveek had a premonition about his death and made this vital decision to buy it in my name.’ All the loans had been cleared because he had sold some family property.
Barnali gave up her job as a class five teacher. She now lives off her husband’s savings. How long could she carry on like this? She did not know. All she felt was heaviness. And when people looked at her with patronising sympathy, her head felt heavier. That was why she did not like to step out of the house.
But she was a human being. After a couple of days of sitting inside, she would feel like the bricks, cement, the walls and the tiles of the roof were crushing her. So she stepped out. And tried to feel something.
She inhaled the fresh air and listened to the breeze. She tried to feel it in her arms and concentrated on the whooshing sound in her ears. But her body and mind remained unmoved, detached, and uncaring.
At the other end of the Bund, she saw a man. Two people could walk on it side-by-side. She knew who he was. Bhaskar, a local politician, and a rumoured-to-be criminal. But the police had not caught him. Bhaskar drank hard, patronised prostitutes and swore loudly.
In the village, they knew about Bhaskar. But he had one saving grace, she knew. He treated women and children kindly. This showed he had something good in him. Barnali bit her tongue. She kept her eyes on the ground. She hoped they could go by without speaking. In silence, and without incident.
She could sense Bhaskar coming close. She concentrated hard on the mud in front of her. Her breath developed a stop-start pattern. She realised it had been a long time since she had painted her toes. Aveek always liked her painting her toenails red. “It looks fiery,” he said, and hugged her.
As they came abreast, Barnali looked at the ground. But Bhaskar caught her wrist. Her eyes opened in surprise. She looked at him.
“Barnali, what is happening to you?” he said calmly. “Don’t lose your life. Everybody has a fate. God decides it. You should accept it and move on.”
She did not know what to say. Barnali stood still, as if someone had electrocuted her. After a while, he let go of her wrist.
“I have a suggestion,” he said. “I am travelling to Kolkata tomorrow. Come with me. I am a politician and have an unsavoury reputation. I know that. But you will be safe with me. You need a break.”
Bhaskar’s soft voice contrasted starkly with his muscular body. It made her receptive to his suggestion. Against her will, she nodded.
“Come to the station at 8 am,” he said. They walked past and continued in opposite directions.
Barnali returned home after buying vegetables. She could not believe she had agreed to meet him. It seemed she was losing her sanity.
She tossed and turned in the night. But the next day, she was at the station at 8 am.
They were in the same compartment. Because there were many known people from their village, they did not talk to each other. Barnali got a window seat. She looked out and stared at the paddy fields as the train whizzed past.
Bhaskar held the rod above him. When he was in her line of sight, she looked at him. He had thick biceps and broad arms. Barnali thought he did weightlifting. Aveek did not have these arms. He was a sensitive literary type, interested in poetry, books and films. Aveek wore a juba and a kurta most of the time. They had met in college and fallen in love. He was sensitive and kind. It was an easy marriage. They got along well.
At Howrah they stepped out. Bhaskar showed with his eyes to follow him. So she did. They walked about 400 metres from the station when Bhaskar stopped and waited for Barnali to come up.
“Hi,” he said.
She gave a half smile.
“Let’s take a cab,” he said.
She nodded.
He raised his palm. A taxi stopped beside them. They got in. He said, “Sudder Street.”
Barnali looked out of the window. Kolkata offered a stark contrast to the village. The massive numbers of people, the thick black fumes from buses, trucks, taxis and cars. The noise of so much traffic moving about, and people blowing horns all the time.
Bhaskar remained silent. He checked some messages on his WhatsApp.
Because of excessive traffic, it took 45 minutes to reach the Lytton Hotel. Barnali immediately knew it was a swanky hotel. This was confirmed when she entered the room. There was a king-size bed. A sofa to one side. A low table. And the air conditioner’s cool hum.
Bhaskar pulled the thick curtain to one side so sunlight streamed in.
She sat on the edge of the bed while he sat on the sofa.
“What would you like to drink?”
“Lime juice would be okay,” she said.
She did not feel nervous at all, even though she knew where this was going. But Barnali remained calm and composed.
He called room service and ordered juice, as well as chilled Heineken beer.
As she looked around, Barnali realised Bhaskar had money on him. She knew it was illegal money, but so many people deal with illegal money in India. Business people evade tax. All government officials who took bribes evade tax. Even professionals like doctors and lawyers avoid paying tax. The only difference was that Bhaskar broke the law. And that was unpalatable for society. Everybody looted, but they did it in the shadows.
As they sipped their drinks, Bhaskar asked about her life. For one-and-a-half years, Barnali had waited for the right person to come along to open up. And she opened up.
She spoke about the miserable existence she led after her husband’s death. She spoke about the shock she experienced when seeing her husband’s dead body. It reminded Barnali of her father’s untimely death. Losing two men she adored. She spoke about how she missed their masculine energy. While it was a world today when women disparaged men, Barnali said she loved men. She liked their physical strength and straight-forwardness. And their uncomplicated bodies. Barnali felt a sense of security when she was with them.
Barnali did not have a terrible experience with a man, unlike many of her peers. Men molested her friends on trains, buses, inside malls, and while walking on the streets. Even close relatives did not miss their chance. “I am one of the lucky ones,” she said. “Or maybe I let out a vibration showing I liked men. So they let me be.”
Bhaskar sipped his beer. He had instinctively sensed that the need for the hour was to listen. The words tumbled out of Barnali in a never-ending flow. It was like a waterfall during the rainy season following a drought.
After an hour, Barnali felt tired. She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. Her mind and body needed silence now. Her body had trembled with the effort of speaking. She had released all the pain, guilt, fear, anger, and frustration inside her. They no longer tormented her any more. Barnali felt free after a long time.
After half an hour, when she opened her eyes, she saw Bhaskar standing at the window and looking out.
She looked at her watch. It was 12.15. She walked to the window and stood next to Bhaskar. He put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned on him. That was the signal he needed. Bhaskar led Barnali to the bed.
The love-making began.
After a while, as she inhaled his masculine odour, she whispered, “Can you push harder?”
Bhaskar turned on the effort.
Barnali felt, as she withstood the pounding, that the walls in her brain were crumbling.
He kept up a steady rhythm, grunting occasionally.
After ten minutes, Bhaskar slowed down. He took a deep breath and leaned in. They kissed, as Bhaskar stopped moving. But Barnali could feel his hardness inside her. She realised he needed to breathe. There was perspiration on his forehead. He had used a lot of effort.
After a while, he began moving.
Then she got on top. This time, she became breathless. She had been out of touch with sex for so long. But Barnali felt satisfied and complete. It brought her back from the brink of whatever mood she had been in for so many months. They lay side by side. Then they drifted off to sleep. When they awoke, Barnali realised it was 1.45 p.m. She could feel her stomach contracting with hunger.
Bhaskar got dressed and called room service and ordered lunch. Barnali knew he was also hungry and that had become acute following their sexual activity. By this time, Barnali had gone to the bathroom carrying her blouse and saree to get dressed.
She opted to take a quick shower. Barnali used perfumed soap and rubbed it all over her body. Bhaskar’s sweat and body odour pressed into her skin.
Bhaskar pulled the curtain back. Light flooded the room. Soon, Barnali came out. Lunch arrived. They ate silently. Chicken biryani, salad, papad and pickles followed by two cups of ice cream.
They ate with their hands in silence and speed. Both had suffered from hunger pangs. They rested for 15 minutes. Bhaskar lit a cigarette and blew smoke rings towards the ceiling. Barnali walked to the bathroom and rinsed her mouth. Bhaskar said, “Let’s go.”
They left the hotel after he paid the bill.
He turned to look at her and said, “I have some work. I will put you in a cab. You can go straight to the station. I will come later.”
She nodded, relieved. Barnali wanted to be by herself, so that she could figure out the emotions she was going through. On the street, an empty cab pulled up. He raised a palm. The cab stopped, and she got in. Barnali waved at Bhaskar.
As she waited at Howrah station, thoughts came to the surface, despite the continuous din all around. Yes, she was going to leave Burdwan. She would come to Kolkata and look for a teacher’s job. Barnali realised she needed the anonymity of a large city to find out the next steps in her life.
She knew there was a reason Aveek died, and she had become alone. But she still did not know what would be the purpose of her life. Maybe her destiny was to live outside of convention, to forge a new and creative way of living. She would give the house at Burdwan on rent, so that some money came her way every month.
Barnali would take a flat in Kolkata. She would introduce Bhaskar as her brother to the landlord. That will enable him to come often without raising suspicions.
After that, she did not know what would happen in her life.
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