"Changing seasons, contrasting terrains,

Accumulating dust and grime,

tarnishing the beauty of newness, lost with passing time.

Time is the ultimate witness;

The facilitator of change and growth,

destruction, loss, gain, and woes.

Unstoppable with power unparalleled,

the moving hands of the clock tick away.

The white purity of something new

fades and yellows, as the pages age.

The onslaught of time alas, is all that remains.

Fragments that lie obliterated in abandon, 

lie incomplete in their loneliness,

The newness that life brings with the passage of time awaits,

Alas, what's left behind prevails, forgotten.

-Elegiac_Damsel

____________

8th November

Kolkata, The City of Joy

Third person's point of view:

Time is an eternally mighty warrior. Its mortality is defined by its immortality; as the seconds pass, the moments elapse, disappearing as the seconds pass, and the infinite loop called time continues into a vague eternity. In Shakespeare's words, "Not marble, nor the gilded monuments of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; but you shall shine brighter in these contents than unswept stone besmeared with sluttish time." In this excerpt from the opening lines of Shakespeare's Sonnet 55, time has been compared to a prostitute, someone who is considered to be unfaithful to just one person and is often unstable in any relationship. Time's unfaithful nature and destiny; time's destructive property; time's wrath and the onslaught that can destroy with its soft kiss and deceptive caress.

Age and decay are characteristics of change induced by the passage of time. Just as a child grows up gradually, learning how to wobble and crawl, walk, grumble, cry, and eventually talk, the young hands that reflect the strength and enthusiasm of youth grow shrivelled with time, the smoothness of skin giving way to wrinkles, raised scars, and visible veins.

Time is a mystery that is seldom understood and often misunderstood. It can sway you with its fascinating immortality in a mortal moment, purportedly pausing for a split second, only in our mind.

A book is an apt representation of life. The contents of the pages bound together by one spine resemble the different moments in one's life, starting from birth to death, gradually into oblivion. The story is read, breathed, and lived; one ponders, mulling over the last few pages; shoving it to the back of a bookcase until dust gradually accumulates; the new snow-white pages with black typed letters that speak of another life in the parallel universe known as as imagination yellow with time. The yellowing pages fall victim to the cruel onslaught of time, till destiny carries them away, breaking the spine that holds the pages together, squandering each page, the story littering the yellowing pages, destined to be forgotten.

Just as the pages evolve and age, so do humans, absorbing the onslaught of time on their bodies, going from birth to infancy to childhood and adolescence, eventually leading to adulthood and inevitably paving the way to death. With time, thoughts, ideologies, concerns, priorities, roles, and responsibilities keep changing, facilitating the evolution of our personalities, shaping us as individuals, and adapting to the changes in the world around us.

For Mrinalini, life had been like a train journey, stopping at platforms for brief intervals, meeting new passengers as the journey towards the inevitable destination, from birth to death, continued. Some left while others came on board. Along the journey, she met new people, visited new situations, and took on different responsibilities, adapting and adopting herself into new roles. The yellowing pages of childhood and maidenhood were fading memories for the little girl who had grown to be a carefree college girl and was now a married woman with responsibilities and duties that weighed her down.

It was eight in the morning. Like any other typical Sunday morning in the City of Joy, the fish lovers thronged the markets, scrounging for the best catch that would suit their palette for a hearty Sunday lunch. The kitchens were busy as women rushed to roll out the dough to commence making scores of deep-fried bread for a savoury breakfast, even as children slept soundly in the adjoining bedrooms, oblivious to the business of the household, enjoying the extra few hours of sleep on the much-awaited holiday.

Contrary to the early morning buzzing that usually brought life to the Acharya household, it was all quiet. The sunlight streaming in from the window in the bedroom brought forth its warmth and brightness, rousing Mrinalini from a deep, relaxed, much-craved slumber. Her sleep-laden eyes, heavy with fatigue, struggled to open. Her body ached only slightly as she moved, her limbs stiff since she had slept in the same position all night long. She fidgeted, turning her side and bringing back the sensation to the taut muscles. The duvet covered her and Debarghya partially; he had pushed it aside, probably when the heat had got to him during the night. They were both nude under the duvet. The remnants of their passionate exploration from the night before lingered in the air as she sat up, covering her unclad breasts with the duvet despite knowing that Debarghya was still asleep and wasn't likely to wake up anytime soon.

Bending to pick up her nightshirt lying abandoned on the floor beside the floor from the night before, she checked on Debarghya, ensuring that he was fast asleep. She let the duvet fall from her bare breasts, shrugging on the nightshirt quickly, covering herself. Shuffling in her position, she brought her feet close to herself, attempting to observe if there was any soreness or ache anywhere in her nether parts, as she had read of in several books and blogs online.

Unlike what had been romanticised in books when it came to first time penetration and intercourse, there had been no bleeding. However, there had been some apparent pain and discomfort that she had felt despite her state of arousal and curious desire. Mrinalini had coaxed herself, trying to tone down her qualms and fears each time her mind told her to push Debarghya away. She had held back her tears, allowing her fear to be suppressed by her desire, and she had controlled her urges to break down. It was finally over. She had managed to hold herself together, conquering her fear.

Mrinalini briefly glanced at Debarghya, recalling vague memories from the night before. The gentle contours of his face, the stubble on his jaw, the soft coarseness of his lips on her skin, the warmth from his body; it had all been new, virtually unfamiliar. The sensations of warmth and desire, combined with the urge to let go of inhibitions, led to what transpired between the two of them. Standing under the shower as she let the warm water cascade down her body, the droplets embedding in the knots of her hair, she could recall the way his hands had moved around her body, exploring silently, letting the soft tips of his fingers, despite the course callouses of his palm, caress her intimately. The seemingly soft strands of his hair that she had laced her fingers into, losing herself in the throes of passion, letting him lead while she controlled the pace, stopping him once in a while with whispers and whimpers that ricocheted off the silence between the four walls of their room. The exploration of the unknown, the immense urge to quench their thirst, satiated by urgent, passionate thrusts and their deep languourous breathing.

Sighing as she rubbed the soft lather from the body wash on her body, she concentrated on one point on the tiled bathroom wall, trying to gather her thoughts and emotions. Was there a part of her that did not tune in well with her decision to go with the flow? Was her haphephobia all hysterical and so easy to overcome, or did it come with insecurities that were meant to last a lifetime and triggered momentary stress and strain when it came to her trust and her relationship with Debarghya? He had been patient with her and understanding, but had it all been reserved for their 'first time' that the world sensationalized or would he take her and her body for granted? Her will and readiness had mattered to him, to their relationship, but did breaching her comfort zone entail guaranteed access at all times in the near future? Alas, there wasn't any definitive answer that could help her cajole herself. She would have to wait till the pages turned yellow, for her relationship to age and mature, and experience the incursion of the inevitable future.

Stepping out of the shower, she proceeded to dry herself, subconsciously lost in deep contemplation and self-introspection. Mrinalini stepped out of the washroom, clad in a cotton Kurti, drying her hair with her towel, closing the door behind her softly. At the dressing table, she paused to look at her reflection in the mirror. Applying a dab of light moisturiser on her face, she proceeded to apply a thin streak of liquid vermilion to her parting. Smiling feebly at herself, she looked away, leaving the towel to dry on the backrest of a chair.

It was close to eight-thirty by the time Mrinalini finished cleaning her mother-in-law's room and anointing both the idols of Lord Krishna that sat on the marble miniature altar on their respective brass thrones; one of them resembling baby Krishna, the butter stealer, and the other standing with his sweetheart, Radha, with freshly extracted sandalwood paste. The brass vessel filled with water to the brim, decorated with a Swastika drawn with liquid vermilion, the foliage of leaves from a branch of a mango tree, a heart-shaped betel leaf, a betel nut, a small banana, and a flower that represented the Goddess of wealth and prosperity, Ma Lakshmi, stood to attention in a corner. As she had seen Debjani do every day without fail, and her grandmother back in her maiden home, Mrinalini touched a coin to it, praying silently for the prosperity of her household. She placed the coin in a coin bank that was supposed to represent Ma Lakshmi's bhandar, or the Goddess's account balance, which was said to be never-ending, overflowing with her grace as long as one chooses to embrace goodness while saving a little every day. She arranged small sweet treats called nakuldana and some sugar crystals on little brass plates alongside some water in glasses, one reserved for each deity and idol. She let herself fold her hands. Closing her eyes, she spoke in her mind, the few lines of prayer that had become a part of her monotonous routine in her marital home. As was customary, she punctuated the daily morning prayer with three prolonged and pronounced reverberations from the conch.

At 9.30, breakfast had been made and laid on the dining table. After the washing machine had been loaded with unwashed clothes, Mrinalini tip-toed into their bedroom, determined to awaken Debarghya.

"Debarghya," she called out, standing near the headrest of the bed, her arms crossed. "Wake up. It is getting late. You had promised me that you would be cleaning the ceiling fans today."

Being a comparatively light sleeper, he stirred, roused from his sleep, mumbling something incoherent. "Arghya, get up now," Mrinalini insisted in a firmer tone. She tugged at the duvet that partially covered him, urging him to rise. "I am up," he finally replied, his tone sounding extremely annoyed and displeased. Sitting up, he looked at his wife, who appeared to be extremely pleased with herself.

"Did we not go to bed well past half-past three last night?" Debarghya asked Mrinalini rhetorically, suppressing a yawn. "Or shall I say morning?"

A tinge of rouge crept up Mrinalini's wheatish complexioned cheeks and the tips of her ears, reflecting her embarrassment. Brushing off her momentary bashfulness, she shrugged indifferently. "Either way, I am sure we both have caught up on slumber amply. Now get up and help me. You will have to get me some groceries from the market and visit the pharmacist to get a few of your mother's medicines. Now rise from bed, take a bath and come out. Breakfast is ready and waiting."

"What did you make for breakfast?" Debarghya asked her expectantly, allowing an eager childish expression to replace his otherwise serious and mature facial features. 

Mrinalini smiled warmly, turning to retreat. "It is something you like, but you need to get up for real now, or you won't be getting any of it."

...

It was close to 5 pm. Mrinalini was staring at her trousseau of saris, caught in her dilemma to decide on a sari that she would wear to the wedding. Biting her lower lip, she retrieved three of her saris: all of them in different shades of blue, a colour that she liked immensely. She looked towards Debarghya, who was retrieving one of his watches from the other side of the closet that they shared.

"Which sari do you think I should wear?" she asked him, pointing at the three of the shortlisted saris paired with their respective matching blouse pieces. "The cobalt blue-lavender and aquamarine saris are cotton silk. The dark blue one is silk. What do you think goes well for the occasion?"

Debarghya scrutinised the three of the saris before taking one of them and draping the fabric over Mrinalini's left shoulder, trying to get a better-opinionated insight. "I think this would look good," he replied at length, decisively. "Although, gold jewellery wouldn't complement this sari well."

She shrugged in response, turning towards the mirror to check on her reflection. "Let us not worry about the jewellery. I have a pair of earrings, silver-based, that should go well with this. What's the compulsion with wearing gold?"  

"If you are sure," Debarghya answered. "Anyway, get ready by 5, so that we can leave latest by half-past. Or we'll be delayed by the evening traffic on EM Bypass."

                                                                                        Mrinalini's sari

...

12th December

"Dada, it is just one trip. Why can you not let me go?" Anumegha's enraged voice reverberated through the living room of the Acharya household. "My friends and I have been planning one last trip before we get out of university for good and before I get married. Please don't refuse me, Dada."

Debarghya, seated at the dining table, having arrived well past 10 after having a busy day at work, looked on at his sister as she insisted. "Brishti, it isn't just about letting you go on a trip. Several other factors need to be taken into consideration. Your safety is one of them. It isn't even somewhere nearby that you want to go. It is the other side of the country that you wish to visit. How can you expect me to agree at once and decide in a split second? I honestly expect you to act a little more reasonably," he replied at length, clenching his fists to reign in his rising temper. 

Mrinalini laid a plate of food in front of Debarghya, looking on silently as a mere spectator like Debjani, who was seated across the table from her son. "Why don't you eat first and then discuss this with Brishti di?" she suggested timidly attempting to placate him. 

Dismissing her with a mere nod, he broke a piece of the chapati that she had served, his gaze focused on his sister, waiting for her reaction to what he had just said. "Dada, I am a well-qualified woman and am grown and mature enough to take care of myself," Anumegha began. "I am about to complete my post-graduation, and I will be married in around three months. What if I had to travel because of my job? You know, on-the-job travelling. Would you object then or let me go because I am supposed to be independent?"

Listening to his sister's words quietly, he pushed the plate of food aside. Crossing his arms, Debarghya met her gaze with a calm expression on his face. "This is just one trip that I want to go on. I will be married in three months and then I will never be able to enjoy this. My life would probably become like Boudi. She is younger than me, but ever since she married into our family, I have seldom seen her enjoy anything that someone her age would do. These are just a few months, Dada that I wish to enjoy before responsibilities come knocking at the door. Please, Dada. You have never refused me anything without reason. And I am sorry, but I find the reasons that you mention for rejecting my request very obstructive and accommodating."

Debarghya sighed, pushing his chair back and standing, his appetite lost. "Brishti," he began in a poised tone. "While I appreciate your concerns about Mrinal, I'd rather you keep my wife out of this conversation and speak for yourself. If she has to say something, I am sure that she can express herself as and when necessary." Keeping a hand on the table surface, he continued in the same levelheaded demeanour, "Coming to your arguments and reasons, first of all, no one at home urged you to get married this soon. It was your decision and your adamance that pushed us to set your wedding date in the same year as you complete your post-graduation. So, you'd better not take me on a guilt trip, citing your impending nuptials as a justified reason for the 'prerogative' that you so demand."

"But, answer this question for me, Dada," Anumegha interrupted, flustered at her elder brother's behaviour. In all the years that he had been the sole breadwinner for their family, he had never refused her or their younger brother, Debrishi, for anything unless it had been way out of his league and abilities. "Had this been a trip I had to make for a job I had, you would have allowed me to be on my way, wouldn't you? Why would you not let me go this time? Is it because it is a leisure trip that I wish to go on with a few friends?"

"Let me finish speaking, will you?" Debarghya countered his sister, some of his calm demeanour slipping as a vein on his forehead pulsated incessantly. It had been a stressful day at work, and he had had to travel to Burdwan and back. "If you had a job that needed you to travel, then I would be the last person stopping you from attending to your professional commitments. As you pointed out, you are old enough to take care of yourself, and I wouldn't expect anything less of you, but that doesn't guarantee approval for an impromptu trip with friends for over 10 days. It isn't that I don't trust you enough to let you go, but a lot of factors that I would need to consider."

"At least check on our itinerary and plans before disregarding it completely," Anumegha continued, almost breaking down. "Please Dada, don't do this. Can this not be the last gift before I get married?"

 "Brishti," Debjani spoke up before her son could in a warningly reprimanding intonation. "That is enough. You have said a lot. Don't take your brother for granted. Learn to take a few refusals into your stride. Do not expect for everything that you desire or ask for shall be presented to you on a golden platter."

"Is it about the money, Dada?" Brishti asked her brother in a shaky voice, tears running down her cheeks now, as she looked at her mother and Debarghya hysterically. "I understand that you have always provided me with everything and that I am still dependent on you financially, but if the money is a matter of concern, then I'll borrow. I can ask Sreejit or someone..."

"Stop right there, Brishti," Debarghya pronounced, clenching and unclenching his fist to control his rage. "I am going to say this only once, and I hope you are not dense enough to not comprehend. Do not let me hear about you being financially dependent on me ever again till you are here. You are my sister and I am responsible for you. Secondly, I am not about to let you take a loan or otherwise from anyone, including your fiance. You are still here, living in our home, so let us not involve someone else in our household's monetary matters. And I am not going to listen to a word more about this damned trip at the moment. If you need to talk later when you can see the reason, you can come and find me. Good night."

Debarghya walked away into the bedroom, forgetting supper, leaving Mrinalini and his mother stupefied and helpless with an overwrought Anumegha. "Bouma, you should clear this plate from the table and eat. It is quite late," Debjani spoke dismissively, breaking the uncomfortable silence, standing up from her place on the tables she reached to hold her crutch for support. "And Brishti, once you are done with your tantrum, feel free to see yourself to bed."

Quietly, ignoring Anumegha's presence, Mrinalini proceeded to clear the plate from the table. She decided to store the untouched food in containers to ensure that nothing went waste and could be consumed the next day. "Boudi, why is Dada doing this?" a distraught Anumegha asked Mrinalini, following her into the kitchen as she cleaned the cooktop and the slab. "He has never done this before. Is something wrong?"

Unsure about how she was supposed to respond, Mrinalini chose to shake her head in denial. "Your brother must have his reasons, Brishti di. He loves you enough to ensure that you don't get hurt under any circumstances. If he refused you something, there must be a lot on his mind that prompted his decision. But this is a conversation that you should have with him when you both are calm," she explained, firmly dismissing the topic that her sister-in-law wanted to discuss with her. "Why don't you go to bed now? There's some chocolate in the refrigerator to repair your mood." 

Dismally, Anumegha nodded, opening the refrigerator door to retrieve the bar of chocolate. She tore off the wrapper and took a nibble. "Did getting married early hinder you from living your life, Boudi?" she paused to ask Mrinalini who was rinsing the used vessels in the kitchen sink, causing her to turn towards her sister-in-law, caught unaware. Clearing her throat, she turned away, returning her focus to the vessels in her hand. "No, I wouldn't say that getting married to your brother hindered me from living my life," she replied at length, twisting her words a bit. "And if this is an attempt at trying to draw insight from my life to yours, I would advise you against it. We are different individuals, and our choices, situations, and mindsets do not match. At the end of the day, the decisions you make and the circumstances that greet you would be shaping your life."

...

"What is wrong, Debarghya?" Mrinalini asked her husband as she combed her hair. Looking at him through the reflection in the mirror as he stood on the balcony, smoking, staring into oblivion, she tried to read his expression. With the onset of winter in the first week of December,  it was quite cold in Kolkata. The weather was characterised by dew and mist in the morning, often combined with fog. Chilly northern winds combined with a frosty dryness in the atmosphere greeted every evening. At close to half-past eleven, the climate was slightly shivery.

"Arghya, come inside," Mrinalini sighed, drawing her shawl closer to her bodice in a bid to warm herself. "It is cold and foggy outside. You might fall sick."

"I am coming, Mrinal," he replied in a pensive tone. "You can get under the covers. I'll turn off the light before going to bed."

However, Mrinalini wasn't one to be deterred. She walked out to the balcony, keeping a hand on his shoulder. Guessing his disturbed state of mind, she took the lit cigarette that dangled between two of his fingers and stubbed it out before discarding it. She beckoned him to come inside, closing the door behind him. 

He got into bed several minutes later, having changed into fresh clothes, discarding the ones he had donned before that smelled of cigarettes and smoke. Mrinalini could feel the tension that radiated off him, characterised by his low sighs and pensive demeanour that showed in the constricted stiffness of his muscles. She turned to face him, taking his hand in hers, comforting him with gentle caresses, asking him softly, "What is wrong? I have never heard you speak to your sister in the tone that you did tonight. Is something wrong? It isn't about mere trust or her safety alone, is it?"

"Do you know how much money she is demanding for this trip that she so wishes to go on?" Debarghya asked in reply, his gaze fixated on the ceiling. His hand stiffened in Mrinalini's as he continued, "Rs. 20000 for a 10-day trip to Rajasthan. That is a freaking huge amount for me to spare, especially in the few months leading up to her wedding.  And she is willing to negotiate with the amount, but that would either mean accommodating herself in a cheaper place or travelling by sleeper class or something which isn't safe. She is my sister. How can I let her negotiate with her safety under the pretence of money?"

She was quiet, allowing him to speak his mind. "I do understand, Mrinal, that she wants to go on a trip with her friends. Peer pressure; is something all of us have faced at some point in our lives, but seriously, at her age, I thought she would be able to handle this maturely. You know weddings these days demand a copious amount of money. Despite the amount that I have saved up over the years, I already know that I need to be prepared for debt post the wedding. How will we manage, Mrinal?"

Mrinalini could feel the helplessness in his voice. Arranging a wedding for a girl; for the only daughter of the household at that, wouldn't be an easy task. Anumegha's request required a fairly large amount of money, a major fraction of Debarghya's monthly salary. Given the meagre number of weeks left for the wedding in March, she could sympathise with his reasons for trying to tighten his hold on the expenses.

He continued speaking, venting out the frustration now that he was behind closed doors, "How could my sister imply that what we have at home isn't enough and that she would go ahead and ask her fiance for money? Am I seriously that incapable of giving her what she needs? Is that what she was trying to imply?"

A slight vulnerability and self-doubt reflected in his voice as he expressed himself, unsure and perplexed. He turned towards Mrinalini, squeezing her hand, urging her for a definitive response, "Say something, Mrinal. Am I incapable of providing for our household and family?"

"I don't think your sister meant to offend you when she said that, Debarghya," Mrinalini spoke softly in a gentle tone. "Perhaps she could understand somewhere that the amount she was asking you for wasn't meagre and so it could mean you would have to push to arrange for the same. There's a part of her that is mature and sincere to comprehend your limitations, but there's another part of her that clouds her judgment, the part that desires to do what her friends are doing." She could feel his grip tighten on her hand as he absorbed her words. She had never seen him this unsettled and perturbed before. Stroking his hand with her thumb rhythmically, she continued, hoping to convey the state of things from his sister's point of view, "Just as you said, peer pressure can affect anyone. And so, when you refused, a part of her felt discomposed at the mere prospect of missing out on something that her close friends would enjoy while she misses out. She has never earned a single penny all her life and the only person she depends on is you, and so when you refused, she named the first person she could think of - her fiance."

"Is this so important for her?" Debarghya asked in a small tone. "I don't want her to miss out on a trip with her friends either, but she has never travelled alone, let alone so far away from home. Even if I arrange the money for the trip, will it be safe to let her go? Especially with the history of her mental health, there's a part of me that shudders at the mere prospect of sending her anywhere with strangers. What if she gets upset by something and falls down the same abyss that we struggled to rescue her from?"

"It's the past, Arghya," she replied patiently. "Don't let that hold you or her back. She'll eventually need to move ahead. She is getting married in three months. You will have to let go at some point. She will be taking up responsibilities to support herself and her family soon. It is impossible to be there for someone at all moments in life. Maybe just let her go once to let her have a taste of the freedom that she so desires."

"That is the problem, Mrinal," Debarghya chuckled humourlessly. "She desires freedom, but not independence." Confused, Mrinalini raised an eyebrow inquisitively. She knew that her sister-in-law was yet to face the real world, having lived a sheltered and protected life, especially after the bout of clinical depression following her father's death. "Why are you getting her married instead of letting her take up a job and attain some financial independence before she gets settled?"

He scoffed at her words. "What makes you think that we are coaxing her into marriage? I am dead against her marrying this early at such a young age." Mrinalini looked at her husband incredulously, "Excuse me? At such a young age? You do realise that you are being a classic hypocrite by saying this, don't you? I am around five or six years younger than your sister and I am married to you."

Rolling his eyes at her words, he replied, "Don't compare yourself and my sister. Your stories aren't the same. When we got married, your family was determined to get you married, and they would have ensured you married someone or the other even if hadn't been me. Now, coming back to Brishti, I know that she is going to be twenty-six in a few months, which is way above the average age of married women in India, but she is running three years late academically, and she is yet to see and experience things. She failed eleventh grade once and spectacularly failed papers during her graduation and post-graduation. After all the struggle and trouble she went through and put us through, would it hurt for her to gain at least a year's work experience and then marry?"

"It is her choice," Mrinalini justified. "You cannot try to make her see the world through your eyes, can you? Perhaps she has plans post-marriage. We cannot judge her from afar especially since neither of us has experienced what she has. I read somewhere, Arghya, that victims who have suffered from depression at some point in their lives have a closed way of thinking and that they seldom trust. Perhaps, Sreejit da is Brishti di's emotional anchor, and that is what prompted her to take a haphazard decision." 

Debarghya nodded reluctantly, seeing reason. "What about the trip that she wants to go on? I can arrange for Rs 10000, but it is still half the requisite amount. Where will the rest of the money come from?" he asked pensively, calculating.

"I can give you Rs 6000," Mrinalini replied at length, helpfully. "You had asked me to save the money I earn from tuition classes for emergencies. I can spare you this amount from those savings. And for the rest of the amount, you'll have to wait till the end of this month. Brishti di plans to go for the trip in January, so if she could accept sixteen thousand rupees now, we can give her the remaining amount next month."

"Why Mrinal?" he asked her astounded. "Why would you give up your hard-earned money for something this trivial?"

Mrinalini smiled at Debarghya, answering his question truthfully as she met his gaze. "Because I understand what it means to be married in India. Don't get me wrong, but in the middle-class society that we live in, despite our education and awareness, we aren't open-minded enough to grant married women all the freedom that they desire. Perhaps, there's a part of her that fears never getting the opportunity to seek this adventure.  Your sister asked you for this trip as a gift before her wedding, didn't she? I know that you have never denied her and that her happiness means a lot to you and everyone in our family. You don't want to lose her smile as you did all those years ago, so let this be a gift to her; her smile."

"Do you feel asphyxiated here? Unable to live life as Brishti said earlier?" Debarghya asked her worriedly, his demeanour stiff. "We haven't taken away your freedom, have we?"

"Didn't you say a while ago that your sister's story and mine aren't the same?" she countered, smiling. "The set of choices that she has and the ones I had aren't the same. I am content with my decisions. It would be wrong to say that I have never paused to imagine how life could have turned out to be only if I had taken a different path than the one I chose to walk on, but I know that I am happier here, free knowing the truth, free from the past that confined me. I am living here, discovering and exploring life. Isn't that enough?"

...

1st January

It was the onset of the new year, the ceremonial turning of yet another page in the indefinite book of life. Kolkata's Park Street had been decorated beautifully for the festive winter season. With scores of people decked up in winter clothes, colourful jackets and jumpers, knit sweaters and cardigans, and scarves to keep themselves warm, the City of Joy welcomed the new year, bidding adieu to an old year, to the old yellowed page, complete with memories. 

For Mrinalini, welcoming the new year was like breathing a sigh of relief. Her heart was filled with hope. This would be the year that she would get back her dreams, and get back on the road to fulfilling her academic aspirations. Debarghya had promised her that she would be getting enrolled in the University to pursue her post-graduation in Organic Chemistry as she had planned.

The yellowing pages of her past had started fading away to the back of her mind, pushed towards oblivion. She had disconnected herself from the confines of the dark reality that she had come in contact with, that had left her numb. Being in constant touch with Rai, and communicating with her regularly helped. The fear of intimacy that had paralysed her hadn't dissipated completely. She still struggled to trust. Perhaps the demons would remain with her. She would just have to learn how to live by embracing them. Her relationship with Debarghya was almost normal. Apart from the few occasions of duress and panic that would make her break down as they tried to get intimate, their conjugal life was fairly usual. The few months of togetherness despite the challenges that had come their way had helped them forge a bond that could perhaps be termed, love. Neither of them had ever vocally expressed their feelings. Being together had become habitual. Sharing distress and seeking advice, asking for each other's opinion once in a while, helping each other and sharing intimacy had become a part of their routine. In the small bedroom that they had first started knowing one another in, within the same four walls that had witnessed their initial days of awkwardness and hesitation, they had managed to mould their marriage into a partnership complete with mutual support, care, and affection. Their relationship was ageing and maturing over time, representing the yellowing pages of a book. 

With Anumegha's wedding date set for 14th March, the Acharya household had become busy. The cards for the wedding had arrived and the weekends in the weeks leading up to the wedding were about to become engaged in visiting relatives and friends who lived in and around Kolkata to invite them to the celebrations. Mrinalini had already called up Rai and had asked her to ensure her presence in the city for her sister-in-law's wedding. It had been months since the mother-daughter duo had met each other and she was eager for an opportunity to rectify the same.

As a courtesy, despite Mrinalini's inhibitions and reluctance, her mother-in-law made her send an invitation card to her cousin, uncle, and aunt abroad. Ignoring Debjani's advice to address the card to her uncle, she had defiantly addressed it to her aunt, Srishti. Speaking over the phone with her cousin, Abhrajeet, she had affirmed the fact that neither of the three living abroad would be able to make it for the marriage ceremony in Kolkata. She had sighed in relief, pleased at the news. She never wanted to see Barun again, least of all with her aunt and cousin, who were unaware of his misdeeds.

It had been five days since the Acharya's neighbour and Mrinalini's newly found friend and confidante, Nilanjana had given birth. She had been brought home from the hospital the night before, on new year's eve along with her newborn son. Eager to meet the baby, Mrinalini had finished her work early in the evening, dropping in a text to the new mother about her plans to drop by and visit her and the baby.

It was close to 7 in the evening when Mrinalini rang the doorbell of the Saha household. She was ushered in by Mrs Saha, the new grandmother, who looked radiant and happy. She proceeded to share with the young woman how handsome her grandson was and how excited she was to raise him with her daughter-in-law.

"Nilanjana di," Mrinalini greeted the new mother in a low voice as she saw the little bundle in the crib, asleep, probably tired from the few days that he had spent in the world. "Congratulations. I couldn't wait to meet you and this little prince here."

Nilanjana smiled, embracing the younger woman. "I am happy to see you. I hope you believe now that I am not usually fat." She pointed at her flat belly with the mere remnants of loose flab now from her recent pregnancy, laughing. "This young man here was occupying a lot of space as you might have noticed."

"How are you doing didi? Are you well? Are you getting any sleep?" Mrinalini enquired in a flurry, anxiously. She knew that motherhood wasn't a bed of roses. There was so much involved, physically and emotionally. "I am recovering, and as for sleep, I do get some sleep. My mother-in-law and husband help me with the baby, so I do get to catch up on lost sleep during the night by taking intermittent naps. And as for the little fatigue and weakness that I do feel, I did sign up for this when I signed up for motherhood," Nilanjana replied good-naturedly, shrugging. "I heard that your sister-in-law is getting married soon. How are things coming with the impending nuptials?"

"It's been a bit hectic, but Debarghya and I have been managing alright. The card distribution and invites need some extra work from our end. Hopefully, we can handle things properly till D-day. Brishti di has already completed shopping for jewellery and the wedding sari. There are scores of gifts that need purchasing and a lot of additional responsibilities that will demand our attention as the date draws nearer," she replied. "Anyway, tell me something, do you plan to continue your designing and tailoring business now or are you going on a maternity break?"

Nilanjana waved indifferently. "I am not sure. The baby will be needing my undivided attention for the first few months. Not to forget that my body needs healing and rest too, so I might just go on a break for a while. I don't plan to quit the business though. Other than the financial help that the additional income does, designs and clothes are my passion, so I don't think I'll ever let this go, for my sake. You tell me what your plans are for the year. Are you and your husband planning for a baby anytime soon?"

"No," Mrinalini replied horrified. "I am just twenty-one years old. I am yet to pursue my post-graduation. I don't think either of us is ready for a baby yet."

"I assumed there could be some pressure from your in-laws for a baby, given the age difference between you and Debarghya da. Don't be offended by the question. It was just a thought," Nilanjana clarified. "I am a mere graduate myself, but I had no intentions of pursuing higher education. I didn't want to waste money trying to study something that I had no interest in. I have always dreamed of owning a boutique or a studio of my own. Marriage and motherhood do make me pause and re-evaluate my plans now, but I do know that I am not just about to quit. Maybe it is a dream that will take a long time to manifest, perhaps forever, yet I won't give up. Even with one sewing machine, a sketchbook, and yards of fabric, I can sew together my dreams, perhaps just a small part. I understand that you wish to pursue higher studies and build a career before you welcome a baby, but I just want to tell you that it is impossible to be 'ready' for a baby. I am a new mother and while I am looking forward to raising my son beautifully, perhaps even a second child in the future, I know that I will never be ready for what might be thrown my way."

Mrinalini nodded in agreement, fidgeting with her fingers slightly as she confided, "I know it isn't possible to be ready for everything in life. Circumstances shape us accordingly. Even so, is it selfish of me to say that I am not ready for a child because I don't think I can compromise on my dreams?"

Smiling as she heard the wail of her newborn son, Nilanjana rose from the bed and commenced walking towards the crib, speaking ominously, "It isn't selfish of you or anyone to prioritise dreams and aspirations. Perhaps sacrificing is just a societal norm that makes you a supposed good mother, but you wouldn't know what life has in store for you till you are one. Holding a baby that you call your own, carrying it, and nurturing it in your womb for months, can do a lot to you. It can either make and shape you as a person as you grow with the child, or it can break you and your spirit. At the end of the day, your perspective and desire determine the path of life."

Quietly, Mrinalini absorbed the new mother's words, watching keenly as Nilanjana interacted with her crying son, cooing at him, coaxing him soothingly to stop crying. She left a while later, promising to pay a visit again soon, her mind preoccupied with Nilanjana's words of wisdom. There was ample time before the page in her book of life turned to the chapter called motherhood. She had endless possibilities that were yet to be explored. 

Marriage had been a responsibility that she had taken up circumstantial. Motherhood wasn't a decision she would take hastily for it involved an innocent life, whose fate and hers would be entwined. 

...

To be continued...

Date of publishing:  10th June 2022

Author's note:

Hi everyone. I hope you are doing well. It's been a long time. COVID cases are on a rise again, so please do take sufficient care of yourselves and your families. Live healthy, happy, and hopeful.

Writing after months, I felt at several points that I have perhaps exhausted my creative abilities. Writing this chapter came with several challenges for me, especially on an emotional aspect since I began losing hope. I am not sure if this story is making sense and if I have been able to convey my thoughts to you all. I would request you to please continue being as supportive and patient as you've always been. In this world of chaos, knowing that I have a world of my own here, is the only source of relief. 

Please do tell me what you think and thank you for all your love, support, and encouragement. I will try to keep writing the story with the hope that I don't disappoint, for Mrinalini's sake.

Take care.

With love,

Elegiac_Damsel

P.S. Please do VOTE, COMMENT, and SHARE if Mrinalini's story has been able to strike a chord with you.

P.P.S. Prioritise your mental health. Take good care. If you are having a bad day, just pause to remember that you need to endure a storm to witness the ethereal beauty of a rainbow.