Scrambled Tales

05. the talk

THE NIGHT HAS FALLEN. The premises of The Bakshi residence has been engulfed in eerie silence. The red-walled house with vast green yards and a lake by the side.

A silence that has been familiar for the walls over the years, of the voids that scream a yearning. A yearning to feel like home again. Perhaps that was lost.

Years ago or in between the times that followed. But somewhere maybe it's just scattered around everywhere. Lalima Bakshi can't point out where but somewhere around.

She walks through the open corridor, her eyes stopping at the verandah, at the two empty chairs.

The figures form in front of eyes, one sitting on the floor by the wooden bench, eating those onion fritters with so much concentration, two seating on that bench talking about the book they read recently, the faint tint on their faces tells another tale.

The figures leaning to the black railings, the shoulders touching each other and smile never leaving those faces eyes shining with happiness.

And Lalima takes an instinctive step towards them and it all fades away into the specks of dust, gone, again. Her eyes suddenly burn with a known pain and she steps back.

"This place doesn't feel like home anymore." Mohua's voice from behind leaves a sad smile on her face.

"Home is gone the moment our children lost their way back. They are gone so is the feeling." She says turning towards her. Mohua's face explicates the same story as hers, worry and grief.

The talk they have about Kuheli and Sidharth just a few hours back has taken a troll upon them. They are worried, tired and everything that mothers would be when their son straight away denied to talk about the marriage topic. And here theirs were not even ready to listen to them, to even sit with them.

"But I still believe," Lalima smiles looking at Mohua and holding her hand in her palm, she continues, "they will find their way back, someday." Mohua nodded, they have hope in them, nothing but that.

"I should go now, Sujoy is not feeling and you know him right he gets angry too soon," Mohua said and Lalima just smiles sadly.

All the life she had lived in this house, she had witnessed the men all same in one way or another. Some patriarchal others misogynist and some both. Her husband Durjoy Bakshi and brother in law, Sujoy Bakshi were the middle ones.

They always imposed their decisions upon others, always having power over them. But that changed, and she was glad it did with her son.

Sometimes she feels maybe that's the reason why Sidharth doesn't want to marry. Her son never liked the norms of society. But then again, she is just another mother looking out for her son.

The lone figure walking on the vast lawn in the backyard catches her eyes. So lonely yet he refused to be with someone. She shakes her head and walks inside.

The night has fallen, her husband has another hearing tomorrow.

Maybe someday when everything will come around, she will take a long break and go back to her hometown, Shantiniketan. There she will live with her poetry books and will sing songs. Maybe someday. Maybe.

That's just another of her wishes, perhaps the only wish she has for herself.

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