The Unventured Passions

Benign Confinements

It was not easy, this social evolution, when the age-old ideas had already spread its threatening roots inside the core of the human society. It was tough, it was a challenge, and Anirudh Roy Chowdhury along with his wife Bondita had vowed to take up this challenge, to change minds, to enlighten, and to win against these obnoxious evil ideas prevalent around them, together.

Bidding a farewell to Raimoti, and blessing Satyakirth with all their hearts, Bondita and Anirudh had returned back to the broken marriage function. Although there were admiring glances, there were eyes rolling at them too.
And, accepting every nuances of their actions with patience and grit, they had decided to answer all the questions thrown at them, all the queries, while waiting, the wait for the new dawn to arrive.
But it wasn't just the dawn, as with it came office Paul Davidson, visibly disturbed at his unsuccessful attempts the night before, not to mention the two dead constables weighing on his badge.

"Let's go Anirudh."

Davidson had offered them a lift back, in his police jeep, and without a second thought Anirudh had gotten in, holding his wife's hand.
There was silence throughout the journey, and they sat at the backseat, hand in hand, Bondita's tired face resting on Anirudh's responsible shoulder, inhaling the familiar healing musk of his body. Davidson was seated infront, quietly, beside the driver, and before noon the next day, zooming past the muddy village paths, they had entered the busy streets of Calcutta. Thoughtful creases were visible on the officer's forehead, and it was first in the last four hours that he finally spoke.

"Laxmi Singh, the constable who got injured on the neck, mentioned a woman with you Anirudh. Who was she?"

The question came as an abrupt arrow thrown carelessly.
Anirudh's eyes were closed, thoughtful, and his free hand was patting on his sleepy wife's head, in attempts of calming her to withstand the tiredness of the journey.

"I'm not sure which woman you're referring to, Paul." He had replied plainly, without opening his eyes, but the reply has made Bondita's muscles to stiffen at once, as she clutched her husband's kurta tighter.

"The woman in yellow saree..."
Davidson's voice had a tone of inquisition, and Anirudh let out a soft sigh.

"That's not a very helpful identification. Did your constable mention anything else? How she looked may be?"

"How many woman did you speak with Anirudh?" The mild restlessness was evident in the officer's voice, and Anirudh opened his eyes at look at him through the rear view mirror.

"Apparently many!" He paused, causing Davidson to turn around.
"When Bondita opposed to this unethical illegal marriage, we were faced with a lot of resistance from a lot of villagers, women too... May be your men had seen me talking me one... I don't know their names, and I definitely don't remember anyone in yellow saree."
Anirudh spoke the words calmly, but Bondita felt the sudden raise in his heartbeat.

"Bondita? You?"
It was Davidson's turn to ask her, and without opening her eyes, Bondita murmured.

"Yellow saree? I was there the whole time Paul Dada, do you think I'd have let go of my husband so easily if he were to be seen with some other woman? Never! You know how possessive I am about him!"
The words ended with a curl in Bondita's lips, and Davidson saw his friend planting a subtle kiss on his wife's head.

"Jesus Christ!" He murmured softly, a sharp exhale of tiredness escaping his lips.

The police jeep sped, and as it took a turn around central Calcutta, leaving the posh area behind, Anirudh frowned a little.
"Drop us to The Great Eastern Hotel, to the left... You crossed it."
Anirudh had touched Paul's shoulder gently, but the latter patted him back.