The Unventured Passions

Better Together

Walking distance from their house in central Calcutta to the Jewish Bakery was about forty minutes. Bondita was almost running, barefooted, as the impact of the blast had made her lose a pair of her slippers. Anirudh on the other hand was staggering, he was hurt, and the blackened soiled cast on his left leg had made it impossible for him to walk freely. He needed to get rid of it, right then.

"Barrister Babu, just a little more." Bondita urged him again, her arms wrapped around his waist, and Anirudh nodded his head trying to smile, his stomach churning painfully at the thought of what he had lost!
The fire had not only taken their home but all his hardwork, the evidence that he had so skillfully gathered against Neelmoni Mukherjee. He had everything planned, the back-up, all schemes and schedules, but what he hadn't plan was a back-up for his back-up plan.
Unable to express his fearful concerns to his wife, Anirudh just walked quietly, his teeth clenched in pain.

"What's there at the bakery Bondita?" He had asked once.

"You'll see", was what she replied.

The far stretched city road seemed never-ending, and seeing her husband's condition she request a pulley rikshaw to take them to their destination. Under normal circumstances, Anirudh would have vehemently refused to be carried by another like that, but that night was completely different.
He had neither the strength or the heart to oppose his wife in anyway.
It was she who was guiding them, it was she who led, and he, for once, let go of himself completely to her decisions.

"I hope Rudhi and Kaka is fine." He had murmured unmindfuly, and Bondita had squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"Ofcourse they are fine. Don't worry." Bondita pressed a smile on her lips, and at that moment, this was all he needed, the support, the assurance, and someone to tell him that everything will be fine soon.

Anirudh sighed in apparent relief.

It was around eleven when the hand-rikshaw stopped infront of the bakery, and Bondita got down at once and rushed inside.

"Yes?"
An old man in his late seventies asked her through his fat rimmed glasses.

"I'm here to see Dwarikadhish." She spoke confidently.

"Who?"

"Dwarikadhish." She forced. " I've called here before. My name is Bondita."

There were more than a few customers sitting on the wooden bench nearby, sipping their cups of late night tea silently, and a couple of them raised their heads and narrowed their eyes at her suspiciously.

"We don't serve that here."
The old man replied, a little rudely this time, trying to brush her off the shop counter.

"I know you do. Please arrange a meeting. I request you."
Bondita had folded her hands in a plea and the men with narrowed eyes raised their eyebrows in curiosity.

"Sorry Madam. I think you have the wrong address. We serve fresh baked breads and cakes and yes, you can get omelette too, along with tea, and fresh juices."
The man remarked plainly, his face expressionless.

"Then we'll have two glasses of fresh orange juice please."

Anirudh had paid the rikshaw puller and was now standing behind his wife, and the old man looked at him at once as he spoke slowly.

"Sure Sir. Please take a seat." He got up from behind the counter and guided them towards a cabin inside his modest hotel.

Anirudh felt exhausted, drained, and sitting inside the cabin, under this pseudo peaceful environment, he felt a little at ease.