Assalamualaikum

At 2am, I heard a knock on my doors; I opened the door with sleepy eyes and saw an Abaya-clad woman, whose face was also covered.
“Assalamualaikum”, she said.
Though I was very annoyed to be awakened at early hours of the day and afraid as well apprehending dangers in the suitcase, she was carrying; I knew ‘Assalamualaikum’ means ‘Let peace be on you’; I politely said, “ShubhamAstu”.

Then the Abaya-clad woman showed her smiling face and said, ‘Please let me in, Bablu’.
I was relieved to find a familiar face; she was none other than AbhaBoudi. Only yesterday, I had a gala dinner at her place.

***
I have received an appointment letter from TCS-Delhi; I shall leave tomorrow morning by Rajdhani Express.
I was invited to a farewell dinner at SwapanDa and AbhaBoudi's place, which is only four houses away from my flat. Hosts were SwapanDa and AbhaBoudi; I didn't see their daughter Tumpa; perhaps she had been already fed and put to bed. SwapanDa served me a cocktail, along with chicken nuggets. Then AbhaBoudi served a sumptuous feast, including European and Indian dishes. After dinner, AbhaBoudi served the cake, baked by her. I returned home, lay down and had a deep sleep within a few minutes.

At 2am next, I heard the knock at the door and found AbhaBoudi, clad in Abaya. I wanted to ask why a housewife AbhaBoudi came alone at late night to meet a man who was not her husband; she started talking, “I shall go to Delhi with you, Bablu, in Rajdhani Express. When you asked me to organise your reservation, I booked mine also in the same compartment.”
Later, she said, ‘Your SwapanDa isn’t happy, because a daughter, Tumpa, is born to us; I couldn’t give him a son. Not only Tumpa's father, but also others in the family look down on me; I can't spend my whole life here and listen to abuses.'
I asked, ‘Can you leave Tumpa here and get settled in Delhi?’
- 'If I could, I would take my Tumpa as well. If I would pick her up at this time of night, her father would have got up too. She will be fine here. If I could, I will pick her up some day, later.'

The next day, AbhaBoudi and I went to Sealdah station; she was fully covered in a burqa. I was standing on the platform, very close to my berth, when SwapanDa came to see me off. Burka-clad AbhaBoudi was seated inside the train; she watched us talking, but SwapanDa never guessed that the burka-clad woman in the window was actually his wife. Few of my college friends were also there to see me off; SwapanDa talked with them as well. I was expecting that SwapanDa would say that his wife had suddenly disappeared, but he didn’t mention anything like that, though his eyes were always wandering in quest of his wife Abha.

After the train set off, I thought I must decide next courses of action to be taken before the train reaches Delhi at 9am next morning. I thought, I must meditate in cool brain to visualise what could happen to me and AbhaBoudi, and I must do this very fast. I felt very angry with her, because she had spoilt my prospect of marrying a virgin unmarried girl. Next, I thought that I was the person to blame; I slept with her yesterday. Then I thought, she should have clothes on, when she slept on my bed. Should she be killed now? A woman who betrays her husband has no right to live. Under the cover of a burka, she looked like a Muslim girl and a Muslim girl often accepts honour killing as her fate.
But I am not capable of murdering anyone; I would like her to get lost; let me talk no more with the despised woman and leave her on the train. Let her get off at Delhi or any other station and find her ways to live. ….. But where would AbhaBoudi get off? Where would she live? Had she been a man, it won’t have been so difficult to live anywhere, even on the footpath. But she is a woman; I didn’t know whether she had any money with her. A woman can be robbed off not only for the money she has, she could be captured by men just for sexual pleasure. Again, I felt guilty; I had slept with her.

The lady, who was allocated the upper berth, was seated in front of me. I asked her, “Madam, do you like a lower berth?”
She said, “That is very nice of you; may I exchange my berth with yours?”
I said, “Not quite, my wife has also a lower berth, which is a couple of windows away. Would you like to go there, so that she could be here, near me?”
“I would”, she said. Together with her, I walked to the seat where burka-clad AbhaBoudi was seated. I asked AbhaBoudi, “Hear me, would you please exchange your seat with this lady, so that we could be seated together?”
“Of course”, said AbhaBoudi and came with her luggage to exchange her berth with that of the lady.

Now, I no longer felt the need of killing AbhaBoudi or letting her get off in any station. I felt, we must now set our vision on how we would live in Delhi.
I asked her, “You said that your maternal uncle lives in Delhi. Would you like to stay with him?”
“I could, for a few days, but he as well as my auntie would ask lots of questions about me and my husband. It is difficult for any married woman to live anywhere without the consent of her husband and in-laws.”
“That means, you can’t go to your uncle and auntie, even for a day.” I said.
“I am ready to be your wife for the rest of my life. Would you please be my husband, at least act like a husband?” said AbhaBoudi.
I couldn’t reply for a few minutes. I meditated for a while; I kept my hands on hers. Then to avoid any confusion, I sent SMS to my receiving party in Delhi, my friend Bibhas and my Dada, ‘My girl-friend Shiuli is with me in the train; she will live with me in Delhi.’

Next, AbhaBoudi opened her suitcase, took out a salwar kameez set and went to the toilet. Soon she was back with her changed attire. This was the first time, I saw her in this dress; she no longer looked like a Bengali housewife. Then she took out a pair of big scissors from her kitbag and said, ‘Bablu; your Baba and Ma will recognise me by my long hair. Please cut it short, so that it is just above my shoulder.’
I had never cut anyone’s hair before. I asked her, if she had a ribbon with her. She had one; she took that out from her handbag. I tied her hair and kept the knot a bit above her shoulder. I took out from my suitcase a plastic bag, filled with shirts. I kept those shirts in the suitcase and put the lower ends of AbhaBoudi’s hair in that plastic bag; I tied the bag of the hair with a tie. Then I cut the strands of AbhaBoudi’s hair so that the detached bunch of hair was put in my shirt-bag. No hair was dropped on the seat or the floor of the train compartment. I kept the hair-filled shirt-bag neatly in my suitcase and told AbhaBoudi, ‘If you ever want these hairs back, I shall glue these on your hair, Shiuli.’

After we landed at Delhi station, my elder brother whispered to me, ‘I think I’ve seen the girl before’.
I said, ‘Shiuli is a girl from our neighbourhood, perhaps you’ve seen her before’.

Dada hired a one-bedroom furnished flat in East of Kailash, Delhi; Shiuli and I were happy to stay there; AbhaBoudi’s housekeeping experience was very handy. My new job was at TCS, where I told them that I was newly married to Shiuli. Since TCS staff often has to go abroad to work, TCS wanted to get passports for both of us. Shiuli said, 'Wait, let's get an affidavit and change our names before getting the passports.' Before marriage, her name was Abha Majumdar, and after marrying SwapanDa, she became Abha Mitra. Now, adopting my surname she became Shiuli Ghosh.
The next Sunday, I went to my Dada's place to meet my parents. My mother called me secretly and said, "Why has Swapan's wife come with you, Bablu?" I said, "Don't worry, mother, you cannot see properly nowadays. That's Shiuli, the girl from our neighbourhood. A few months ago, both his parents died in a car accident, and since then she has been staying at his uncle's house, in our neighbourhood, at Benoy Bose Road. She is very close to me, I have done dramas with her, we are both learning to dance together; she is very good at studies, has passed MSc, knows housework very well, she will feed you with Sukto and Posto. Her uncle said, ‘Take her to Delhi, your parents will definitely like to have her in their home’.

Shiuli had an MSc in Mathematics from Calcutta University, a first class first, and a B.Ed. while teaching at Shyambazar Girls' School; she easily became the assistant headmistress of Raisina Bengali School. When AbhaBoudi came to my door and wanted to travel with me, I was worried about how I would manage her expenses; within a week, all the problems were solved.

A week after we arrived in Delhi, first time Shiuli opened up before me as my woman. It was a Friday night; there was no pressure to get up early next morning. After dinner I lit up a cigarette and entered the bedroom; Shiuli was lying on the bed with her head on a pillow. She was wearing a colourful lungi and loose pink t-shirt. I had accepted the situation well by then; she was not AbhaBoudi anymore; she was one and only my Shiuli. I pressed my lips on hers and thought it was time to see more of hers. With a delicate manoeuvre and swift touch, I took off her t-shirt.
I could not but gaze at her breasts, at those pointy nipples, I put my palm on her firm and round breasts, I touched with my finger tip her deep brown areolas and protruding nipples. Shiuli embraced me with her both hands, with her breasts resting on my chest. Charmed I was, she as well. Numerous kisses I had not only on her lips, on her face, but on her shoulder, her breasts, and her whole body. I could not but take off her lungi and explore what was beneath it.

A week later, Shiuli reported that her periods had stopped. I felt elated and proudly took her to a gynaecologist, who diagnosed that Shiuli had been pregnant for 45 days, apparently a fortnight before she left for Delhi with me. My pride was shattered. I asked Shiuli whether she wanted to continue with this baby. Shiuli said, ‘Yes, I am pro-life’ and requested me to keep mum about the age of the embryo.

I was beside Shiuli in the hospital; the baby would be born anytime soon. I was wondering whether I should call SwapanDa and let him know that AbhaBoudi was bearing another child of his and it was time for the baby to show up; but Shiuli didn’t approve.
This time I was in the operation theatre for the delivery of the baby. I remembered that I had to be in the hospital when Tumpa was born to AbhaBoudi as well, because SwapanDa was away to work.
Shiuli was in pain in the early hours of the day; situations got complicated when she bled profusely. I was wondering whether I was destined to share my grief with SwapanDa, or I alone should bear the loss– the loss that could shatter my paradise.
At this crucial stage, I found that the nurse was not coping and I jumped to help her. A girl was born at 5am. Both the mother and the daughter survived. Blood transfusion was started, as Shiuli lost lot of blood. We named the girl ‘Rimi’.
When Shiuli returned home, she said, ‘Had Tumpa been here now! She would have played with the baby. Can’t you kidnap her, Bablu?’

After Rimi was born, Shiuli and I became busy taking care of her. We spent our days doing something we didn't know how to do; we didn't have much free time to spend with each other. After Rimi turned three, we both focused on building careers. After five years of part-time research, we both got our Ph.D.s, Shiuli in mathematics and I in computing.

Another day we will never forget. I was not at all prepared for being physical with Shiuli that day. We were both listening to devotional songs, meditating with all our hearts, not realising that we had become intimate in our hearts; The devotional song seemed to be telling us to be simple, to receive what we have received without asking– the sky, light, body, mind, soul. We too will be worthy of that great gift, by dedicating ourselves. I offered myself to Shiuli; Shiuli left herself in my hands. I embraced Shiuli and put her on my lap. The distance between us disappeared, disappeared all boundaries; it felt like we were one body, one mind.
A month later, Shiuli's pregnancy test came positive. My own child was in her. Just at this time, I came to know from a letter of SwapanDa that AbhaBoudi’s mother had passed away. I felt that, this news must not be passed on to Shiuli. I had never seen Shiuli’s mother, so I didn’t feel much about her passing away. But I knew what I feel about my own mother. Pregnant Shiuli would be broken down at this news; I didn’t tell her anything. Nine months later, our son Mintu was born without any problems. This time too, Shiuli said, ‘When will you bring Tumpa?’

Later, when my mother saw Rimi and Mintu, she said, Mintu has exactly the same face as mine, but Rimi’s face reminded her about SwapanDa.

Fifteen years had passed since Abha disappeared; SwapanDa left no stone unturned in quest of his wife Abha; he called Abha's parents repeatedly, and wrote to me almost every week; but he never told his parents, relatives, or friends that AbhaBoudi had disappeared; everyone except me knows that AbhaBoudi has returned to Ranchi with her parents to pursue her PhD. As a close friend, SwapanDa has written about four hundred letters to me; I have responded to his letters with sympathy every time, I have only kept one lie more believable than the truth– I don’t have any news about AbhaBoudi. After two years, I told SwapanDa– I fell in love with a girl named Shiuli and married her. This is another lie, but all my friends in Delhi, even all my colleagues, know it to be true; Parents and grandparents also believe the same.

Suddenly I received a wedding invitation– a dream wedding:
“Dear Bablu,
Abha's father from Ranchi informed me that Abha died of snakebite. You know our mother died almost a year ago; my younger brother has been working in Chennai for a long time; at home now live two men, my father and I, with my daughter Tumpa; I really need a housewife to take care of our family; so I decided to get married again. Please come with your wife and children. My father wants your wife to be one of the five Eyos (married women) for this wedding.
-Love and Best Wishes,”

Shiuli and I arrived at SwapanDa's house as invited guests on the afternoon of the wedding day. On the wedding day, the festivities mainly take place at the bride's place; there is not much fuss at the groom's house; besides Shiuli had no intention of being an Eyo in the ceremony. I left the children in Delhi in the custody of my Dada-Boudi. On one hand, Shiuli was scared of being seen through her disguise, even though she had grown a lot in size now, someone might still recognise her; but on the other hand, she was very eager to see Tumpa in person.
The bride sat on the throne, wearing a golden crown; Shiuli and I introduced ourselves and handed over our gifts to the bride– a gift cheque and a few stalks of marigold.
A few girls and a boy sat next to the bride’s throne; Shiuli was trying to figure out if any of them was Tumpa. One boy got a little excited after hearing my name and said, ‘My name is also Bablu.’
‘Is that so?’ I promptly shook his hand. I looked at his face; he was fifteen years younger than I; as if I was standing there fifteen years ago.
‘Abha!’ I heard SwapanDa calling. Startled Shiuli was going to respond when SwapanDa said, ‘I call my new wife Abha, though she often forgets to respond; her real name is Nandita.’
Shiuli’s startled face was seen not by me alone and but also by the other Bablu as well, though no one asked her any question.

"Abha!" SwapanDa's voice was heard, before the shocked Shiuli could respond, SwapanDa appeared, looked at her and said, "I have named my new wife - Abha, she often forgets to respond, her real name is Nandita."
Shiuli’s startled face was seen by not me alone and but by the other Bablu as well, though no one asked her any question.
We came across Tumpa as well, Shiuli introduced herself to her as the wife of her Bablu uncle; Shiuli said, ‘Come over to Delhi with me, I would get you to Raisina School there.’
Tumpa was charmed and said, ‘You’re very good, Auntie. Wish I could go with you. But Dad looks after me vigilantly. He is not only my father but my mother as well.’

Later, in the night, Shiuli told me, ‘Please persuade your SwapanDa - Tumpa will stay with us like a daughter.’
I said, ‘It would be even better, if you say that Tumpa is your daughter.’
- If I say so, you won’t be able to show your face to your SwapanDa. You’ve been posing as his intimate friend, yet you have eloped with his wife. Not only our nest will be shattered, Nandita won’t build her dream nest. That’s why – not me but you should convince your SwapanDa that it would be better for Tumpa.
- Ok, I’ll try. Did you like the young Bablu?
- ‘Very handsome! Wish I could elope with him. I guarantee that Nandita would someday fly away with him.’

I requested SwapanDa to permit us to take Tumpa with us, but he didn’t agree; he said, ‘Tumpa would sit for Higher Secondary exam this year; it’s not the right time to change her address. Moreover, it is time to set up the relationship between Tumpa and her new mum.’

Next day we left SwapanDa’s place, but decided not to return to Delhi; Siuli said, ‘Let me make a surprise visit to my Baba at Ranchi. Would he recognise me after fifteen years, especially with you as my husband?’

Before going to Ranchi, Shiuli i.e. Abha thought that her Baba won’t recognise her after so many years. But when she reached there, she found just the opposite; her Baba recognised her, but her Baba’s face was hardly recognisable. Her Mum had passed away eight years ago. In the house there was only one other fellow, whom Shiuli called Amukaka, who looked after the house including the garden, and cooked for Baba. Baba spent his days mainly by authoring books. He also read books, listened to music and watched TV programs.
I couldn’t say that SwapanDa informed me about her Mum’s demise long time ago; but I didn’t tell Shiuli about this, because our son Mintu was due then.
Baba recognised Abha and asked, ‘Where had you been so long?’
Abha said, ‘In Delhi with this Bablu, hiding from your son-in-law Swapan. I didn’t tell you lest you have to tell any lie to Swapan. Please accept Bablu as your new son-in-law. After Tumpa, you have been blessed with another grand-daughter Rimi, now 14 year old and a grandson Mintu, now eight. These two grandchildren are now in the custody of Bablu’s Boudi in Delhi.’
Baba said, ‘You’ve kept me in the dark, while Swapan went on asking about you almost every day. He came here numerous times without sending any prior notice. He has told all other relatives that you’re doing PhD from here.’
- Do you know Swapan had just married, after getting the news of my death from you?
- Yes, I know. What else could I have said? I could never imagine that you are still alive without caring for Tumpa, not for a day or two but for fifteen years.
- You never tell a lie, Baba.
- True, But when I author novels, often I have to frame stories to hook the readers. Here too I’ve framed stories so that Swapan stops thinking about you and starts living again. I’ve told him that if someone dies of snakebite, the body isn’t cremated; so I’ve buried the body in the garden and planted a mango tree on the altar covering the body.
Baba paused for a while and pointed his finger through the window, ‘That’s the mango tree. Swapan would be here tomorrow with Tumpa and his newly married wife, whom he would call Abha and she would also be my daughter. They would surely bow before the altar and the mango tree. You two, please, hide yourselves in the corner room.’

‘Baba, meet you daughter Abha’, said Swapan while entering the room with Nandita and bowed before Baba; Nandita followed suit.
Baba blessed them by touching their forehead and looked towards the door and asked, ‘Where is Tumpa?’
- No, Baba, she is busy studying for exams.
- No, Swapan. She never misses any opportunity to see me. Doesn’t she like her new mum?
- Not at all. Whole yesterday she was with her new mum. She is missing since this morning…

From an adjacent room, Shiuli and I were listening; before Swapan finished his words, Shiuli jumped onto him. In last fifteen years, I have never seen Shiuli to be so aggressive, ‘Why are you murmuring, Tumpa’s Dad? Please tell us clearly where Tumpa is. When you slept last night with a daughter-like woman, did you check whether Tumpa took her glass of milk? Did you say ‘Good Night’ to her before locking your bedroom door?’
‘Yes, Tumpa’s Mum. Like every other day, she had Horlicks before going to bed. We took Tumpa to her bedroom first; then we returned to ours. We didn’t lock our door. We were sure that she won’t peep into our room. This morning, we went to her room to offer the bed tea. But she wasn’t there…..
Were you here for so many years, Tumpa’s Mum? Have you completed your PhD? Please return with me.’
Then SwapanDa turned towards Baba, and said, ‘Baba, why did you say that Abha has died of snakebites?’

Dumbfounded Baba was looking for words. In novels, he had often improvised answers. Sudden return of her dead daughter, after fifteen years was stranger than any fiction; he had no clues to explain.

Shiuli, too, was speechless. She wanted to say, ‘I have done my PhD alright but not from Baba’s place here, but while I worked in Delhi as a teacher and researched part-time.’
But she didn’t dare to say anything about how she got her job in Raisina Bengali School after eloping with Bablu, who had been lying to Swapan for long fifteen years.

SwapanDa appeared to be rekindled with the same youth as he had fifteen years ago. He jumped to grasp Shiuli’s hands and said, ‘Please forgive me, Tumpa’s Mum. I don’t care to know what you’ve done so long; please come back. Together, we would bring back our Tumpa. She won’t leave us anymore.’

For the first time Nandita’s weeping voice was heard, ‘Where would I go, Swapan? Even two days have not passed since we have pledged to remain together forever….’
‘You’ll remain with me, Nandita’, said Swapan, ’as a younger sister to Abha, you’ll be her sister co-wife.’

Seated in the adjacent room, I heard every word said by Baba, SwapanDa and two Abhas. One Abha is SwapanDa’s new wife Nandita and the other Abha was once my AbhaBoudi, now my dearest Shiuli, my partner in all official documents though we’re not yet legally married. I was thinking hard, looking for ways to rescue Shiuli, when, all on a sudden, I received a tone on my mobile – WhatsApp and email messages from the younger Bablu:
‘BabluDa, I have kidnapped Tumpa as you wanted, brought her to my Auntie’s place at Delhi. I’ve told Auntie, ‘Tumpa’s parents live in Delhi; they will collect her after two days.’ Tumpa has easily become a friend of my Auntie’s daughter and they are sharing the same bed. I’ve told Tumpa about you. Here is her phone numbers. Please call us when needed.’

Bablu’s messages were indeed God-sent. This was the time I had to appear on the scene. I entered the room, and without any hesitation, I jumped on SwapanDa’s feet and said, ’Save me, SwapanDa; please excuse your guilty neighbour. It’s me who kidnapped AbhaBoudi, who has eventually become my Shiuli. I’ve told you a lot about her– my newfound love. But she still is Tumpa’s Mum.
Please don’t invite AbhaBoudi back to your life; please let her remain as Shiuli. She is not the mother of only Tumpa but also of 14 year old Rimi and 8 year old Mintu…..’

SwapanDa stopped me, saying, ‘No more you have to say. I don’t mind getting cheated by trusted friends, my dear Bablu. Don’t like to lose friends by failing to trust them. Please tell me what made you kidnap Abha.’

I was looking for words to say, when Shiuli replied, ‘It’s no fault of Bablu. It is I, who ran away from your place because I felt girls are unwanted there. Babumani and Mamani expected a grandson; their hopes were shattered when Tumpa was born. Even you weren’t much different; you have seen me as a slave woman, not as your partner. Bablu and I jointly decide how to lead our life. To Bablu I’m Shiuli not ‘Rimi’s Mum’ or ‘Mintu’s Mum’.’

SwapanDa heaved a sigh and said to Shiuli, ‘I’ll let you go with Bablu and live happily. Don’t like to see your face any more. Let Tumpa return, I’ll live as Tumpa’s father. Tumpa and The younger Bablu like each other. But I want Tumpa to be a graduate and self-dependent woman before she gets married. If ever you think that you need to be with Tumpa, please return to me, may not be as ‘Tumpa’s Mum’, may be as Shiuli, or as Abha or any other name that suits your taste. Hope Nandita and I will live together for life. Our life will be more complete, if you join us as well someday…’.

***The End***