Love's Patient Path

Part 7

The haveli lay in the embrace of the night, the moon casting its ethereal glow on the silent corridors. Anirudh, who had fallen asleep on the rocking chair, stirred awake in the midst of the quiet hours. A glance at the empty water jar prompted him to venture down to the kitchen for a refill.

As he descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, his eyes met Bondita, delicately sipping water. A silent acknowledgment passed between them, a subtle recognition of each other's presence in the shared solitude. Anirudh, still nursing the embers of frustration from the earlier confrontation, attempted to bypass her without a word.

However, as Bondita turned to leave, he couldn't suppress the bubbling frustration within him. "Bondita," he called out, his tone a mixture of vexation and longing. Bondita halted and turned back, her eyes reflecting innocence and curiosity.

Anirudh, the restraint slipping from his voice, questioned, "Am I so inconspicuous that you don't even acknowledge my presence?" His frustration found a voice, echoing in the silent kitchen.

Bondita, her gaze unwavering, responded with unassuming innocence, "No, Barrister Babu, I do acknowledge you. Every time you're near." There was a softness in her voice, an honesty that cut through the tension.

Anirudh, not ready to let go of his agitation, retorted with a hint of taunt, "Oh, you do? How am I supposed to know when you never utter a word?" His words carried an undercurrent of longing, a desire for connection.

Bondita, unfazed by his tone, smiled softly and said, "If I talk to you, Barrister Babu, Aapki hone wali patni ko shayed achha na lage. Unki baato se to lagta hai ke vo abhi se hi mujhe apna dushman maan baithi hai, or abhi to mainay kuch kiya bhi nhi." The sincerity in her eyes was met with a tinge of remorse in Anirudh's.

Anirudh, well-acquainted with Saudamini's acts, responded with a hint of sarcasm, "Iska ye matlab bilkul bhi nhi hai, ke tum din bhar mere ya uske saamne maun vrat dharan karke ghumogi. Whatever happened today, you have the right to speak about it." His frustration mingled with genuine concern.

Bondita, still smiling as if finding his frustration amusing, replied, "Speaking up might lead to the beginning of the second Mahabharata. It's better if I maintain my silence. A silent vow is more peaceful." Her innocent charm eased the edges of the lingering tension.

Anirudh felt an unfamiliar restlessness within him. He couldn't fathom why her quiet demeanor left him yearning for the resonance of her voice on this matter. "And what if i want to know ke tum kya chahti ho. I Don't know why, But i do want to know your opinion, your thoughts," he admitted with a rare vulnerability.

Bondita's eyes, though maintaining their sparkle, held a subtle pain as she responded, "I'm just a child, barrister babu. What do I understand? I can't comprehend you like she does."

Anirudh, burdened by the realization that he had underestimated her, remembered the words he had spoken about her immaturity in front of his family. Now, as he observed her, those judgments seemed baseless and unjust. A pang of regret pierced through him, and he knew he needed answers.

"Can we talk somewhere peacefully? Maybe in my study? Please." Anirudh pleaded, his eyes reflecting the urgency of his inner turmoil.

Bondita hesitated, her mind replaying the childhood scolding about not entering his study. She softly asked, "Do you remember when you scolded me after our marriage, not to ever enter your study?"

Anirudh sighed, a profound regret etched on his face. "I remember, I fucking remember every damn thing and i also know how wrong i was, And I apologize for it. Please, let's talk. These questions and thoughts inside me will eat me up if I don't clarify them now."