When Anirudh Roy Chowdhary, a twenty-one year old barrister, who is the eldest son of a rich family of landlords, returned to India abruptly after completing his graduation from London, for improving the conditions of women in India, to change the o...
I sat on my bed and once again opened the cover containing Bondita's photos. I spread all the photos on the bed and searched for the most desired photograph, that is, the picture of Bondita receiving her gold medal and taking the barrister robe. I was surprised to not find it in this set. According to Salim, these were the last round of pictures clicked by the caretaker during the time of convocation.
"Then where are the convocation photos?", I thought.
I was disappointed that I couldn't get to see them, until my mind urged the eyes to take delight in the other photos. I wondered how come every picture looked so artistic. Bondita was definitely an artist's muse. She sprayed rainbow colours through those black and white snapshots. Had I known painting, I would have spent the rest of my life in painting her pictures.
Out of all the photos I got in this round, the one in which she was twirling was my most favourite, although I loved every picture. This particular photograph caught her beautiful long hair flying. It was also a candid shot that captured the real essence of my Bondita, her chirpy and cheerful self. As I continued to admire the photograph, rather the person in it, I took notice of every small detail; during which, I found that her blouse was really loose and cursed the tailor.
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"What an unprofessional tailor he was! He spoiled the look of her attire. What if she planned to wear this sari for the convocation? How uncomfortable she must have felt in this misfit? Why can't people take their jobs seriously?", I grumbled.
However, when my eyes went back to admire her face and got hooked to her bracing smile, my frown got replaced with a smile too. Her smile is as cool as the winter breeze, as innocent and pure as a baby. Gradually, keeping all the other photos inside the cover, I stretched myself out on the bed, holding my most favourite photo. With one hand beneath my head and the other one holding the photograph, I pondered what could be the colour of the saree. It must be yellow definitely, because that was her favourite colour in childhood.
"Is it her favourite still?", I thought.
Not only this, I had many questions about her likes, dislikes, interests and hobbies. Even though I know the answers to most of them, I was doubtful about the changes that might have occurred in the past six years. Suddenly, everything became vague and mind got clouded with an undesirable gloom. Due to the dubious situation in which life had placed me, I was forced to believe that Bondita was a distant acquaintance of mine and I knew nothing about her. There couldn't be anything more disheartening than the idea that Bondita and I are too far away from each other. For, I always felt her presence within me.
As a gesture of contradicting my thoughts, I pressed the photo hard to my chest, saying that Bondita and I can never be apart. She was close to me and will always be.
I was snapped out of my thoughts by the noise at the door which reminded me that I did not latch it. Before I could act upon the matter, kaka opened the door and entered the room. I quickly pushed the photos under the pillow and threw an awkward smile at him.
