Anushka observed in awe as more and more motifs came up, intricate patterns juxtaposed on fine silk threads that spoke of myths and folklores allowing them to come to light and tell tales of bygone eras.

In her hand a brown book labelled in bright orange gave a brief introduction to the artistic weaves of India. “Baluchari had enjoyed the special patronage of the Murshidabad court since the 17th century and developed a school of design where stylised forms of human and animal figures were most interestingly integrated with floral and geometrical motifs in the elaborate weaver material”, it read.

Her camera captured in quick succession series of videos where simple and easy hand movements manifested convoluted patterns in myriad threads of the brightest golden, red and green. A final click and she was satisfied with her work; the sight of the magic in front was too fulfilling for her inexperienced, city eyes.

A small interview was scheduled which would record minute details regarding upliftment of rural folk in the remote West Bengal village, for Anushka it was an empowering initiative.

“From whom did you learn the craft?” she pinned the microphone on the woman’s blouse and started the interview.

The young damsel in a darker shade of brown staring with two bright black eyes wearing a very shabby cotton saree in a lighter and faded hue of sky blue and the pallu wrapped around her slim waist, blinked a few  without uttering a word.

In a world where arranging a single grain of rice was as tough as finding diamonds in a coal mine, a high tech camera and microphone were gadgets they had merely heard of.

“Umm..well..”

Anushka nodded in exasperation. Her sociable nature helped a lot, yet sometimes she wondered how the hell Ronit Sen managed!

“No, no..you don’t have to be tensed! See, this is nothing”, she pointed at the lens. Putting her hand on the woman’s shoulder in a way of offering support, she affirmed, “just pour your heart out. Relax and breathe. Imagine you’re only talking to me.”

The woman beamed, a sweet grin radiating innocence, it was world’s away from those feigned lip curvatures she was used to seeing.

“My father was a fine craftsman, me and my husband both work here. Ronit dada has made it very clear our work shouldn’t qualify as anything below the best”, she finished.

“It is exciting how fast and arduously you work, somewhat like winding a wand. You move your hands like this and that and a flower pops up here while a figure pops up there, how does it feel to be working? Are you happy with the whole arrangement?”

“I’m beyond happy, mada—”

“Tsk tsk”, Anushka clicked her tongue. “No madam, just Anushka di, even Anu di if you prefer. Please continue.”

“I’m beyond happy. In my family, me and my husband are the last surviving members who know this craft of weaving cloth. My two sons have no interest and the daughter’s too young.  We thought this artistry would die with us, we were struggling to make both ends meet and arrange for basic medicines for my ailing father in law until Ronit dada came. He’s an angel in disguise.”

Anushka gulped.

Everytime his name popped up, her conscience did a sommer sault of its own. It had been months she and Rahul had bade each other goodbye and ever since it had been a constant war of emotions tweaked by a hint of guilt here and prior acts of selfishness there.  While a corner of her body boasted remnants of Rahul’s lingering touch, another craved for a glimpse of Ronit. She herself was a warring mess, had no idea why the hell she was doing what she was doing. It was just that in the hidden crevices of her heart, she had a hunch it might lead to somewhere productive.

“Wh-what have you got to say about these Baluchari sarees?” Anushka derailed from her thoughts and continued with the interview. “How do you think this initiative is helping others?”

The woman picked a purple saree from a shelf nearby, in the sunlight peeking from the factory windows, its golden threads gleamed revealing a grand design and fine weaving method. “Baluchari silk sarees are the pride of Bengal. It originated in Murshidabad district but later shifted to Bishnupur district where it flourished under the king of Burdwan. It has a rich history of its own which will take time to finish if I continue”, she smiled. “However, in this remote village this factory saved hundreds of lives didi. We were starving, the nearest train station is kilometres away, there’s no proper transport. We eat what we manage to grow, the land is not fertile enough. Whatever can be arranged, our children survive and we pretty much satisfy ourselves most days with mere water. Ronit dada is arranging for a school, the politicians are having a talk with him. Plus, most are employed here. I think we couldn’t have asked for more.”

Anushka pressed a button stopping the recording. Thanking the woman one last time, she unclipped the microphone. She wasn’t yet clear why this village miles away from a bus stop appealed to her in the first place, so much she decided to pack her bags one fine morning, slipped into a simple cotton kurta and with her trusted camera in tow, ventured into this isolated piece of land.
It was definitely the charm of doing something new, something fun and different for a change—this was the reason she gave herself. It was pacifying to impose a partial lie on herself, it served the purpose ie solace. For, the other reason which raised its ugly head every now and then was too unsettling for her conflicting heart.

“How is everyone doing today?” a known voice boomed from the corridor jolting Anushka from the state of trance. She closed her eyes and cursed.

Ronit bloody Sen!

The man had barely talked ever since she started working a month before. Working would be an understatement, it was a freelance job she overethused herself in.

His tall figure caught her attention, a mild pista green shirt and brown trousers hugged his lean frame, the glasses took their usual place. She preferred the bespectacled him any day over contacts. It refined his nerdy sober image, but then again it might just be her.

“Today I have a good news” he grinned. “School will start in the next six months, the final steps have been cleared and in honour of such an excellent achievement by all of us, I have arranged for a small picnic.”

The whole room erupted in applause, shouts and loud whispers. People’s elated faces and tears of joy flocked every nook and cranny. “It was all your effort, dada. We are nothing without you”, they chorused.

Ronit’s handsome visage turned a pale shade of red, Anushka didn’t try camouflage her amusement.
He hadn’t changed a bit, still got embarrassed by compliments.
Suddenly a torrent of anger coursed through her veins, she was standing right in front, yet he hadn’t bothered to spare a look!

It was as if the man didn’t even know her!

Atrocious behaviour!

What does he think of himself?

“Umm..I think my work is done here”, she excused herself. The words though addressed to Ronit Sen were thrown at none in particular.

“Didi, please stay with us. It will be our pleasure”, the woman from earlier came forward. “Also, evening will descend soon. It’s not safe anymore”, another supported.

“Hey, you enjoy. It’s a wonderful news afterall”, Anushka forced a smile. “And I’m used to travelling alone”, she shrugged feigning insouciance.
Strapping her camera to a waist-pouch, she packed her belongings and left the venue, loudly cursing for choosing to come in the first place. These days her power of judgement lacked credibility, it forced her to act more on whims, the results of which were most of the times not satisfactory. If irrationality had any limit, she had most probably crossed that, she surmised.

Turning towards the main gate, she paced fast, her heart beating in clear distinct beats, it was a jumble of emotions and she was a puzzle of thoughts.

Anger, jealousy, sadness, grief, love?

Or longing?

What was it?

What was it actually?

She pondered yet couldn’t decipher.
Just before closing the main door, Anushka turned and looked back. Somewhere in the deepest trenches of her mind, a thought incongruous to the whole equation between her and her apparent boss, arose. It shouldn’t have risen but couldn’t be helped.

Anushka had never felt this helpless in life. She paused for a second.

Was she waiting for his affirmation?

After all these years?

Did she want him to come and plead her to not leave?

The answer was..

Her eyes met his, pure black clashed with greenish brown. For a second, she hoped he would come and say, “don’t go.” She aimed to halt a fraction of a second but ended up standing still for a lot more, biting her lips and balling her hands into fists to fight the rising annoyance.

Is he provoking me?
Does he think I’ll ever listen to him?

However, Anushka knew better. Ronit Sen was a person of phlegmatic disposition, it was as if that man conducted therapies on how to be more stolid!

And as per norm, he maintained silence.

Irritated at being shunned, she banged the door shut and walked out. A stray tear originating from some questionable source escaped her moist eyes. She wanted to cuss the hell out of her deceiving self, intended to slap an unresponsive Ronit left and right until he cried in pain, in short she needed to rant.

As the car engine roared to a start, a slight knock on the window cut through her senses.

It was the woman from before.

“Dada said all guests are welcome for the picnic", she said.

“So?” Anushka snapped.

Taken aback the woman swallowed. With slight hesitation, she continued, “well..he..he..sent me because he wants you to tour our houses tomorrow. He said it would bring us more exposure", she gulped again.

“Just go and inform I do not work under him! I’m not bound to!”

“Mercy me didi”, the woman pleaded in a soft tone. “I’m just doing my job. Please go and tell whatever you want to him, otherwise he will be very angry.”

Huffing and puffing and thoroughly vexed at Ronit’s notoriety, Anushka marched inside.

Speak of the devil!

“Sorry to interrupt Sir, did you just call me back?” she went ahead and challenged him.

“Hmm”, was the brief reply.

Bastard!

“May I know why?"

“I guess Nalini di has already explained that, she was asked to”, he passed a short and knowing glance at the woman.

“I did, dada”, she confirmed without any delay.

“That clarifies it th—”

“No, it doesn’t!” Anushka intervened mid sentence. It was a deliberate attempt to irk him more. From childhood Ronit was a boy of few words, but he hated being cut off.

“Miss Roy”, his jaws tensed into rigid lines. “As far as I’m aware, we agreed on some pre set arrangements. I firmly believe you haven’t forgotten that.”

The words sliced as a knife, pricked her like thorns. Shaking with rage, Anushka stormed towards the end of the factory, where, under the open sky preparations were on in full swing for a hearty dinner of fluffy rice and spicy chicken curry.

As she sat encapsulated in distant thoughts, she reminisced about days back at Darjeeling, days relished in the lavish company of Rahul, days which were now long gone, left behind for good.

Yes, Rahul often drew her back , not the lifestyle but his fervent kisses gnawed at the back of her mind. Her body would still respond to his touch, she knew, yet there wasn’t an escape from the enigma Ronit presented. The less he talked, the less amicable he was, the more pull she felt towards him, the more was the enchantment.

If ever afforded a careful observation, he never offended her, or in that case anybody. He was the mildest and one of the most gentle people she ever had the opportunity of being familiar with. It was just that he never treaded beyond the formal limits a mere official relationship entailed, as if they were nobody to begin with!

But I broke everything we had!

“There’s no use of deliberating over things that could be null in the next few days or months.”

The grave voice of Ronit echoed in the open space, his approaching figure obscured by partial darkness rose mixed feelings inside Anushka.

She kept quiet, choosing to camouflage the storm rising within.

“Miss Roy, pardon my interference”, he neared and stood beside her. “If you want the crop, think about soil, water, sunlight, fertilisers. Those alone will determine how fine your yield will be. After all, as you sow, so will you reap.”

Anushka stood with a start. Turning with an abrupt swing, she questioned, “is it always necessary to speak in riddles, Mr Sen?” Without any doubt, an extra effort was given to add some harsh disdain to the words Mister and Sen.

He laughed a hearty laugh, one she had last witnessed more than six years back. It was the same, exuberant and contagious. “Its not a riddle, Miss Roy. A simple advice, if you care to listen.” Tucking his hands inside his trouser pockets, he matched Anushka eye to eye. It was deep and as captivating as before.

“Sunlight does not enter because you want it. It enters because you open the windows. Please open your windows.”

And thus, he left.

Before taking a final turn, he finished, “Oh, dinner will be ready in the next twenty minutes. Please go to the third floor terrace.”

                            ********

Author's Note:

As announced, this is the first Bonus Chapter in The Window.

I don't know how this went but I'm really hopeful.

Please vote, read and comment. Awaiting your feedback❤️

With love,

ANNIE.B

Dated: 5/12/21.