By the time the feast and the singing and dancing had come to an end and the guests bade the couple farewell, it was nearly midnight. It was to be a special night for the bridal couple—the wedding night.
After bidding goodbye to the last guest, Debashish went upstairs. He found the lights on in all the rooms. Dipa sat stiffly on a chair in the living room. Debashish went and stood before her. His nature was such that he believed in the expected and what was out of the ordinary often eluded his notice. With open arms, he invited Dipa into his embrace and said with a gentle smile, ‘Come.’
Dipa looked up, startled. Her eyes were glazed with fear. Debashish took it to be the natural shyness of a newly married bride. He sat down on the chair next to Dipa’s, placed his hand on hers and said, ‘It is midnight. How much longer will you sit here? Come, it’s time to go to bed.’
Dipa withdrew her hand. Her throat was dry with fear, but she would say what was on her mind. The time for hesitation had run out. She said in a faltering voice, ‘I … I’ll sleep in another room.’
Along with amusement, Debashish felt a pinprick of surprise. The words struck a false note, quite unlike the natural coyness one might have expected from a new bride. But he said with a smile, ‘If you sleep alone, what remains of the wedding night?’
Dipa trembled. She stiffened every nerve and muscle in her body and said, ‘No, I … I have something to tell you. I …’
By now, all traces of amusement had been wiped off Debashish’s face. He gazed at Dipa steadily for some time, then asked, ‘What is it?’
Dipa’s breathing was laboured. She gasped out, ‘Please, please forgive me, but I love someone else.’
It took some time for the exact meaning of the words to sink in. Then the flames of joy and desire that had been burning in Debashish’s heart were snuffed out, one by one. He felt as though the electric lights in the room too had dimmed gradually, casting him into the gloom that surrounds an oil lamp. He stood up and asked dryly, ‘Why did you marry me then?’
Dipa sat with her head bowed. But the anguish in her heart came through in her voice as she confessed, ‘I am to blame for this. But I had no choice. My family forced me into this marriage.’
‘You could have married the man you were in love with.’
‘He belonged to a different caste …’
‘Caste!’ A harsh laugh bubbled in his heart and stilled suddenly. ‘So what’s to be done now?’
Suddenly, Dipa rose to her feet and pleaded piteously, ‘I beg of you not to throw me out! I’ll confine myself to some obscure corner of your house and never bother you in any way! You needn’t set eyes on me if you don’t want to …’ Her voice was choked with sobs.
Debashish ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I was not prepared for this,’ he said with a tired sigh. ‘We’ll have to think this over. Go to bed.’ He gestured towards the flower-adorned bed and said, ‘I’ll sleep in the other room.’
Dipa did not pause for a moment. She hurried into the room and closed the door. Her hair, wrists and neck were still adorned with ornaments made out of blossoms. She collapsed on the bed strewn with roses and burst into sobs. She had not hoped to escape so easily.
On the same floor was a second bedroom where Debashish’s father had slept once. Nakul had cleaned that room as well and changed the sheets on the bed. On this auspicious occasion, he hadn’t wanted to leave a single corner of the house untidy. Debashish entered the room that had lain unused for years. He sat down on the bed and remained that way for a while. He had a splitting headache. He went into the bathroom, turned on the tap and held his head under the rush of water. Then he came back with his hair still dripping and lay down.
When the train jumps off the tracks as it is rushing headlong into the night, it gives no warning of the mishap that is about to take place. Debashish’s life had also been struck by a sudden calamity. Even a few minutes earlier, he had had no inkling of what lay in store for him. But he could ill afford to lose his composure and run amok. He’d have to keep his head and work out a reasonable solution to the problem.
Debashish immersed himself in his thoughts. He was a level-headed man. Anyone else would have done something drastic that very night.
The crux of the matter was that Dipa loved someone else. Debashish had no interest in finding out who it could be. Whoever he might be, Dipa was in love with him. Dipa had married Debashish under pressure from her family, but she had no desire to fulfil her conjugal duties. Just how far had their intimacy gone, Dipa’s and her lover’s? There was little point in indulging in speculation of this kind.
Every member of Dipa’s family, including Bijoy Madhav, was obviously aware of this illicit affair. They had forced her into this marriage with full knowledge of her relationship with the other man. Perhaps they hoped that now that she was married, she would eventually forget him. But it didn’t seem likely. Dipa was committed to her lover. Had Nripati known about the affair? It was unlikely. Had he known about it, he wouldn’t have betrayed Debashish in this manner. He seemed such a gentleman. But the unavoidable had happened. What was to be done now? Should he be contemplating divorce?
The clock struck one, then, two. At this point, Debashish noticed that the bright light in the living room was still burning. He got up to switch it off. The door to Dipa’s room was firmly shut. As he walked past it, he kept his ears pricked for tell-tale sounds. But none were audible. She was probably asleep. He switched off the living-room lights and came back to bed.
It was very late. The city seemed sunk in a stupor. Far away, a train blew its whistle continuously as it disappeared into the depths of darkness. Debashish stared into the gloom, his thoughts like lights flashing in his mind. The clock struck three. Debashish made out the shape of a solitary glow-worm—a half-formed idea—winking away in the impenetrable darkness. Tonight, he could come up with no more than that.
Debashish went into the bathroom again and doused his head in water. He came back to the room, lay down on the bed and soon drifted off to sleep. But he couldn’t sleep for long. The moment the exhaustion left his body and the first light of dawn streaked across the sky, he was up again. He brushed his teeth and went downstairs. Nakul was still asleep, dog-tired after all the work he had had to do the day before. Debashish silently opened the front door and stepped out. The bare garden had no blooms to speak of, but there was a scent of freshness to the breeze at dawn. He began to pace up and down in the space that separated the front door and the gate.
The sun was slowly coming up, but the streets were still deserted. While pacing back and forth, Debashish paused for a while at the closed gate. Leaning an elbow on the top of the gate, he gazed out on the street and noticed a man hurrying towards the house. As he approached, Debashish recognized him. It was Bijoy Madhav.
In the last few days, Debashish and Bijoy Madhav had become good friends. Moreover, they were now related by marriage. But at that moment, the very sight of Bijoy made his blood boil. So, when his brother-in-law smiled at him and stopped in front of the gate, Debashish failed to respond in kind. He stared at Bijoy sombrely and asked, ‘What brings you here now? Haven’t you done all you had hoped to do?’
Bijoy’s smile vanished. He stammered, ‘Has … has Dipa said something?’
‘Everything,’ was Debashish’s terse reply. ‘At least, she did not try to deceive me.’
Bijoy stared at him, stunned. Then he unlatched the gate and came in. He grasped Debashish’s hand and pleaded, ‘My dear friend, you are Dipa’s husband. You’re like a brother to me. Will you accept a word of advice?’
‘And what is that?’
‘Dipa is a mere child. She’s just turned eighteen. Her head is full of nothing but absurd fantasies. Besides, what level of intelligence and maturity could one expect from a young girl like her? Please don’t pay any heed to what she says. After a few days of conjugal living, she’ll outgrow the past. It’s just a youthful whim on her part, after all.’
‘That is not what her
words seem to imply.’
‘What is the worth of a woman’s words? Women are prone to aping the latest fashions and using big words. But they don’t mean much. Dipa has been to school and she’s picked up these things from her classmates. She is easily swayed and has a penchant for films, theatre and music, although we have never encouraged it. I can affirm with the greatest confidence that no girl from our family is ever likely to stray into sin.’
Debashish said calmly, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to take any hasty decisions over the matter. Whatever I do eventually, it will be done after much thought. Does anyone outside the family know about it?’
‘No.’ Bijoy was about to add something more, when he spotted Nakul at the front door. The servant stepped forward and announced, ‘Dada, tea is ready.’
Bijoy said in an undertone, ‘I’ll be off today, my dear friend. I’ll drop in again soon.’
He hurried away. Debashish turned towards the house and said, ‘Nakul, please serve our tea upstairs.’
Nakul smiled, ‘That’s what I did, Dada.’
Debashish went upstairs. The tea tray was laid out on the low table in the centre of the living room. Dipa sat silently on the sofa, just as she had the night before. But she had changed out of the clothes she had worn earlier and was dressed in a fresh sari and blouse. When she saw Debashish, she awkwardly rose to her feet.
Closing the door, Debashish turned around and held Dipa in his steady gaze as the early morning sunlight streamed in through the open window and played gently over her. Bijoy had not been exaggerating; Dipa’s slim form had a virginal quality that lent her a childlike innocence. But her face betrayed a firm mind, the graceful features capable of expressing powerful emotions.
Debashish approached her, his eyes fixed on the tea tray. The tea had been served in a pot, along with a pair of teacups, hot milk, sugar cubes, a plate piled high with toast, butter laid out in a dish, a bowl of marmalade and four boiled eggs. Nakul had prepared an elaborate breakfast for the two of them. He had seldom done as much for Debashish when he was living alone.
Debashish looked up at Dipa and asked her, ‘Will you pour?’
In Dipa’s parents’ home, old traditions prevailed. The tea was poured into cups and served individually to each member of the family. Nor did they follow the ritual of eating breakfast together. Dipa hesitated a little. Debashish noticed it and said, ‘Fine, let me do it.’
He poured the tea, offered a cup to Dipa and said, ‘Make yourself comfortable. I need to talk to you. We can do so while we’re drinking our tea.’
Dipa sat down on a chair. Her feeling of apprehension originated less from her natural shyness than from being caught in a controversy created by unusual circumstances. Her life was caught in incredible upheavals.
Debashish took a sip from his cup and put it down. ‘Your brother, Bijoy Madhav, was here at the crack of dawn,’ he told her.
Dipa raised startled eyes to his face and immediately averted her gaze. Debashish observed, as he buttered a toast, ‘I gathered from his words that your secret is known to everyone in the family. Does any outsider know about it too?’
Dipa shook her head. ‘No …’ she replied, ‘no.’ Not another word escaped from her parched throat.
‘Anyway, everything will have to be taken care of,’ Debashish told her. ‘Something … a strange problem … has cropped up in my life. I’ll have to resolve it in a manner that will generate as little comment as possible and keep the honour of the people concerned intact. Do you follow me?’
Dipa nodded and murmured, ‘I do.’ But she was puzzled by Debashish’s manner. Was this the way a man discussed a situation of this kind?
Debashish bit into his toast and pointed out, ‘Your tea is getting cold.’
Dipa picked up her teacup quickly, but it stayed in her hands and did not reach her lips.
Debashish said again in a cool voice, ‘There is a simple solution—divorce.’
Dipa’s teacup shook and barely missed spilling its contents. She composed herself and said in a subdued voice, ‘No.’
Debashish raised his brows. ‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘Your family has wronged you by preventing you from marrying the man you love and amends should be made for it.’
Keeping her eyes averted, Dipa replied, ‘My grandfather … he’ll never survive the shame.’
For a while, Debashish remained silent, gazing at Dipa thoughtfully. Then he picked up his cup of tepid tea, drained it in one gulp and put it down again.
Debashish had met Uday Madhav and had taken a measure of the older man’s forceful personality. If he heard that his granddaughter had gone to the divorce courts, he might not commit suicide, but he could well kill her.
‘If divorce is not a feasible option, the alternative would be for you to go back home to your parents and live with them as you used to before you were married.’
‘They’ll just send me back here again. All that can come of it is a scandal.’
‘Then the third option is that you go on living here. You’ll have your private space. I shan’t intrude on it. But I too have my pride, my self-respect. You’d have to play a wife’s role in public. Would you agree to that?’
Dipa nodded to indicate that she would.
Debashish cautioned, ‘Even my valet is an outsider. Appearances will have to be kept up for him as well.’
Dipa nodded once again.
Debashish expelled a sigh and stood up. ‘That’s settled, then,’ he said, ‘but how long can this charade go on?’
Dipa was silent. She had no answer to that. Debashish walked out of the room. His experience of the female species was very limited, but he was beginning to feel that women were extremely selfish creatures. They valued nothing but their own interests, to the exclusion of all else.
The day before, Debashish had planned to take a few days off from work, stay home and get acquainted with his wife. But all his plans had been laid waste. He walked about distractedly for a while, then straightened the sheets of the bed he had slept in the previous night so that Nakul wouldn’t suspect they had slept apart. Then he went into the kitchen and said, ‘Nakul, prepare my meal; I’ll be leaving for the factory at nine o’clock.’
When he was about to go in for his bath, a thought occurred to Debashish. He found Dipa sitting utterly still in the living room where he had left her. He went up to her and said, ‘If we want to keep Nakul in the dark about the exact nature of our relationship, I’ll have to take my showers in the bathroom attached to your room. If he finds my discarded clothes in the other bathroom, he’ll suspect something is wrong. May I use your bathroom then?’
Dipa felt Debashish might be mocking her. She looked up at him, but his expression was devoid of any such intent. She nodded her consent.
Debashish had his bath and left for work at nine.
The household chores fell to Nakul. He’d have to initiate the new bride into the ways of this house, keep an eye on her meals and attend to her comforts. Since no women had lived in the house for years, it had fallen on Nakul to assume the responsibilities that were usually the lot of the mistress.
Once lunch was over, Nakul cleared the table, carrying away Dipa’s used plates. He sent her upstairs with the advice to ‘go and take a nap.’
But Dipa was not used to afternoon naps. She began to explore the first floor. Debashish had slept in this room the previous night … Nakul shouldn’t come to know of it … She’d have to make the bed every morning before the servant came upstairs. The balcony at the side of the house overlooked the grounds. The garden was unkempt as though no one had spared it a glance in years. Debashish did not have a green thumb, but Dipa did. She’d cared for the many potted plants kept on the terrace of her parents’ house.
She roamed about the house for an hour or so, then returned to the living room. Then she noticed the radiogram. Dipa loved music. In her parents’ home, she had had a transistor. She had listened to radio programmes—songs, football commentaries, plays—as
she lolled in bed. She’d forgotten to bring it with her when she got married. Many of her belongings were still lying in her parents’ house.
Dipa slid open the panels of the radiogram and fiddled with the knobs. Music filled the room with the serenely soothing cadences of the afternoon programmes. She sat down on an upholstered armchair beside the radio and began to listen to the music.
The night before, she had had very little sleep. That too had been a restless one. Now, as the radio played soothing music, her eyes drooped.
She was startled by the telephone ringing away. She opened her eyes and noticed the tiny phone in a corner of the room. Dipa switched off the radio. It must be Debashish calling. After a moment’s hesitation, she picked up the receiver.
‘Hello.’
The voice at the other end asked, ‘Dipa, do you recognize my voice?’
Dipa’s heart beat faster as she answered breathlessly, ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Is there anyone else in the room?’
‘No, I am alone.’
‘Fine. Have you told your husband about us?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Did he bother you last night?’
‘No.’
‘Did you sleep alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Carry on this way for a few days.’
‘For how long?’
‘Just for a while. Don’t you worry; everything will sort itself out. Do you remember the vow?’
‘Vow?’
‘You swore in the Lord’s name never to disclose my identity to anyone, remember?’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘Your husband may coerce you into revealing my name.’
Menagerie & other Byomkesh Bakshi Mysteries Page 24