Nandan walked into the room with an air of melancholy and poured himself whisky. He picked up the glass and shook it, helped him self-empathise, felt depressing. Then he surveyed the old room. It was surrounded by expensive furniture, rarely dusted, since the man they belonged to lay on the bed, rendered incapable by leprosy for a few years now.

Nandan came up to the bedside. Time traded carefully with his father, Talukdar Sikdar. Few nights of the month Nandan used to come up here, it was sometime his own conscience had stopped bothering Nandan. But he always felt at peace knowing that he could never be more devious than his father. Nandan sat on the bedside chair, and leaned back into his memories.

Colonel Virgil Maryswan was composed when he signed the papers. Papers do make a zamindar, Nandan reverberated. He was successful in buying back the lands the British had taken from his father. At least the lands managed by the colonel. It would be a long time before all the lands once a part of the Sikdar zamindar, belonged to him again. The British were gone and now the Colonel was too. Nandan heard clothes ruffle.

The old man on the bed fidgeted under the sheets, probably an itch, which he forgot in his slumber. Nandan sat up, his whisky toppling dangerously inside the glass. Nandan heard a rummaging from far away. He looked out the window. Two sets of lights flooded a small section of night down the valley. It was moving. Shefali was coming home. Nandan looked back at his father, standing up, his focus shifting to the intricately carved twin peacocks at the bedpost.

Nandan breathed in the moment just after Virgil left. He just made his forefathers proud, he had made his father proud. He heard clothes ruffling again. Nandan paid closer attention, hearing what sounded like muffled screams. Nandan stood up, following the source of the sound. Wondering why the sound wouldn't let him revel in his achievements. The sound came from upstairs. Nandan took the stairs, the corridors were unusually quiet, the servants were gone for lunch.

The upper floor of the bungalow was rarely used anymore. There were rooms only above the gate, the rest was an open terrace. Nandan stepped into the floor, scanning the three rooms set out before him. Two on the far side was used for storage, the room right before him was liveable. It served as a base when there was a gathering held at the terrace. The ruffling grew louder and short spanned, the screams more prominent. Nandan stepped in front of the first room and pushed in the door with all his might.

It was empty.

Nandan looked at the confused pigeons that sat on the window far side of the room. They must've been here a long time, long enough to not be scared of intruders. Nandan slowly exited the room. The sounds seemed to now come from the next room. Nandan wasted no time, he bashed out in the corridors and pushed the second room open.

Expensive furniture surrounded the room. All recently dusted, so as to accommodate the two people currently occupying the bed. Within the tangled mass of freshly scented sheets, two people seemed to be locked in embrace.

Nandan thought back to a moment ago when he wanted to tell the world what he accomplished. He shifted his focus to the twin peacocks on the bedposts, trying not to think about how the people on the bed were naked. He couldn't move, he was familiar with the frame of the man. He couldn't look away from the young woman he held in his arms. He had often thought of holding her himself. Talukdar Sikdar was pinning Shreema down on his bed. His eyes hungry for her to worship him. Seconds passed neither of them took notice of Nandan. They switched positions, Shreema calmly looked at Nandan. As if immensely inconvenienced by his presence. She batted her eyes to dismiss Nandan. Nandan quietly followed, hearing the giggling of his father on his way down, who took no notice of the intrusion.

Nandan went back downstairs and sat on the chair again. After what seemed like hours, Talukdar entered the room, adjusting his sleeves.

"The matter with Virgil was settled, I hope?" asked Talukdar.

Nandan nodded affirmative, not being able to look up to his father. Silence followed, Nandan too afraid to know what his father was doing.

"Say Son, how do feel about the colonel's daughter? Shefali would be a good wife, don't you think?"

Nandan looked up to his father. There was no forced conviction in his eyes, no indication that he was somehow unnerved.

"What is going on?" Nandan's mother entered the room.

"I think I found us a daughter-in-law!"

Shefali held his shoulders, Nandan shook off his stupor to wrap his arm around her. Shefali recoiled at his stale breath. They walked out to the terrace together.

"Night is nothing but black in Naxalbari," Nandan pointed at the sky, which had no stars.

"Because there are clouds over the stars," Shefali pointed out.

"There is also the mist, shouldn't some light dissipate through it," Nandan clawed at nothingness, "but no, the mist is black too. I saw your car down the valley."

"You did?"

"Those headlights looked ridiculous trying to illuminate this black night..."

"Okay." Shefali held her husband and guided him to the stairs.