Roy was reading the newspaper when Vinod mon ran to him.
“Pappa! I need a cycle.”
When he repeated his need three times, the reply came from Roy.
“Go…go…you brat! You go and ask your Mummy.”
Roy said angrily. Vinod showed his stubbornness.
“Don’t be stubborn. Go away from me.”
Roy was furious. When Vinod showed his obstinacy again Roy gave him a thrash. Later I asked him why he did that, and he replied, “It’s my way.”
That was Roy’s style. He handled a three-and-a-half boy as though he were a grownup boy! He scolded him and thrashed him as if he wanted to take revenge upon somebody. Even if he got ill, he did not take him to the hospital. I had to do it by myself.
As days passed by, the feeling that Roy was alienating himself from me strengthened more and more in me. The thought that Roy was my own and I belonged to him seemed to get dimmed. That sense of belonging was lost somewhere in the course of our life. Once when I pointed it out, his reply was in this manner:
“Rubbish! I too don’t feel it. I don’t have the feeling that you are my own.”
“Roy, what did I do to give you that feeling?”
Roy said carelessly:
“Ah… I don’t know…”
Very rarely did Roy look happy. So, when his mood brightened, I couldn’t enjoy his expression of love forgetting the earlier incidents. Vinod mon would be scared to go near him. Whenever Roy saw it, he would flare up.
“You alone are keeping him away from me.” Always the blame would be on me, though it was not my fault.
How many nights had witnessed my moaning? I had nobody to share my sorrow with except Prasad. He was far away from me. Even otherwise how could I let him know this? He wouldn’t bear it if he came to know of it. He was that weak-hearted. Next was Valsa. But I couldn’t tell her anything as I used to in the past.
Last summer vacation she came from Bombay. She sensed the unhappiness on my face and the change in Roy.
“See, I will tell him and set everything right. How can he drink this much even if he has worries.”
Valsa talked to Roy. It had a good result, though temporarily.
“Everything will be turned right, Premi!” Valsa said optimistically and returned. But the wick of hope was put out within no time. The river again started flowing along the dirty channel.
Quite accidentally Prakash and his wife came home. They had got in while they were going on the way. I remembered Seena when I saw her. She was my student. When I said it, Prakash retorted with a laugh. She is an admirer…”
“Of whom?”
Prakash showed a gesture pointing to me.
“It is because of her compulsion that we got in.”
“Madam, do you know how many times I asked him to come and see Madam? He would say some excuses and postpone. This time I didn’t allow it to happen.”
As I was troubled inside, I thought I was not hearty enough in my behaviour toward them. Roy was inside. I felt awkward. How to call him? How not to call him?” Finally, I decided to call him. When I went inside, he was dressing up.
“Prakash and his wife have come,” I spoke in a low tone. He did not even look at me.
When I brought tea for them, Mon was already sitting on Prakash’s lap. While they were having tea, Roy came out. Made a pretense of a smile. “I’ve to go out for an urgent matter”, so saying he went out.
They must have noticed my face becoming pale. Even they seemed to feel awkward.
I liked Seema. A girl with no pretensions. There was a touch of sincerity in her tone. Prakash had already told me that she had great respect and admiration for me. Today it was proved true.
Prakash added something more.
“It is like that. Those who know you can only respect and admire you.”
Oh… what’s in me for feeling that way…it was the thought that flashed through my mind.
Seena seemed a perfect match for Prakash. Their aptitudes must also be similar.
If not, at least they must be among the rare combinations that are mutually recognized and accepted.
Roy was interested in pop music. Never did he have the habit of reading books at all. In cinema, he was interested in shallow and superficial things.
Roy came back around noon. As soon as he came in, he asked in a tone sharpened with bitterness:
“Have your dear friends left?”
The sarcasm in his voice blocked my response.
He was heard asking Mon also in a mocking way, “Has your uncle gone?” He made a crooked bent to ‘uncle.’
“Gone.” He replied innocently. Poor boy! He did not catch the mockery and hidden meaning in his father’s question.
While he was having lunch, there was a continuation of the earlier dig.
“You could have treated them with lunch.”
As I did not reply, a rejoinder came in the bedroom too.
“What’s it? You have swallowed your tongue in his memory!”
What to say, other than shed tears in silence!
For Roy, it must be a cruel pleasure. Pappa and Mummy had complete trust in me. That trust helped me never to go astray.
Alex, who gave me the notebook hiding his love letter inside—
Simon who came, muttered “I love you” and slipped away, while I was searching in the bookshelves in the library –
“How many girls have I seen? But I see something different in you, dear girl! I love you, Premeela.” Mathew George, the English lecturer who proposed to me.
“I don’t think it would cause an earthquake if a Hindu and Christian love each other,” Raveendran said with revolutionary enthusiasm.
My reply to everybody was the same: “I cannot love you in the way you expect me to.”
I could reject all of them unwaveringly. Then why did I feel like accepting Roy?
Obligation—?
Valsa’s brother—?
Then something else…? Didn’t it make me feel sympathy for Roy…some kind of helplessness in Roy…a small child’s innocence, simplicity…didn’t it touch me deeply?
Or was it because I did not have any clear idea about anything…about life…?
There was no point in feeling regret over it. Vinod mon! He needed both links. I ought to live for his sake.
But I couldn’t look after him in a healthy atmosphere. Even though he was a small child, he was old enough to distinguish scolding and abuse from the normal talk. Whenever Roy flared up towards me, he would stand close to me with a bewildered look. I had told Roy many times that he should not scold me in his presence. But Roy did not care.
Roy never used to pet him, cajole him or play with him. When he cried during nights when he was too small, Roy used to shout:
“Won’t you take this brat over there?”
Why did my dream tumble down as a castle of cards? Would I be able to get the scattered pieces back in shape?”
Or should I attempt an escapade? What was going to happen?
(Cont’d)