The Unventured Passions Book-2

Newborn Emotions

"Dear Anirudh Da,

Farewells, they linger like the last echo of a song, haunting and persistent. Why does bidding adieu to all we hold dear pierce the soul so deeply? I fear I shall never fully comprehend. Alas, my time is nigh, and I must relinquish all that I cherish. You once imparted upon me the wisdom of serving a higher purpose, of tending to the few whose faith rests upon us. First, our hearth, and then, the world. Your counsel resonates within me now more than ever. My vanishing act is imperative for the greater good, Anirudh Da, but what of those dear to me? What of THE ONE? I am at a loss on how to face her. She professes understanding, and perhaps she does, yet why does my heart resist comprehension?

At times, I question the toll our motherland exacts, claiming countless innocent lives. Yet, when has the dawn of enlightenment arrived sans upheaval? For every Renaissance, there lies a hundred Revolution! You had once told me the importance of being true to one's politics, the politics of self, and it have left an indelible mark upon me. My convictions impel me to tread the path I have chosen, for half measures hold no true significance in life. And in acknowledging this, I concede that my love is whole, unwavering. I entrust you with the solemn duty of ensuring its fruition. Recall the medallion I dispatched from our homeland, bearing my insignia. Deliver it to the one who possesses my heart. Urge her to return to the land where her spirit truly belongs. That medallion shall serve as her ticket.

With unwavering devotion,

Rudra"

Anirudh swallowed a dry lump as he finished reading the letter. He folded it gently before handing it back to Raimoti. Tears threatened to spill from his deep-set eyes.

"That's his birth name, Rudra Narayan Sen," Raimoti mentioned, her usual sharp tone replaced by a thick, choked voice. Anirudh nodded slowly.

"He wrote about the silver medallion which you'd sent me to the court along with your letter of evidence," his words tinged with grief.

"I read," Raimoti lowered her gaze. "He wishes me to go back to his, well, to Raipur."

Anirudh heard her and quietly got up from the chair. He walked towards the iron safe in the corner of the study room and very carefully took out a round white metal seal wrapped in a red velvet cloth.

"Do you wish to go, Raimoti?" He asked her, extending the cloth toward her. But Raimoti refused.

"Keep it back, Anirudh Da. I can't go back," she sighed.

Anirudh didn't respond, nor did he ask her for any reason behind her decision. He simply obeyed her words, returning the medallion to the safe as quietly as he had retrieved it, then resumed his seat once again.

Raimoti's gaze remained fixed on the carpeted floor. "I saw the bullet hitting his head, but it was too dark, Anirudh Da. I heard his scream, I heard the splash when he fell into the river, but I never saw him die!" She looked up and locked eyes with him. "And as long as I don't see his lifeless body with these wretched eyes of mine, to me, he is alive."

Anirudh felt her words and saw the conviction in her eyes, knowing she meant every single word she uttered. "Going to Raipur without him would mean that I've accepted his death, which I've not," she tried to smile, her gaze hopeful.
"He's Satyakirth Sen after all, is he not, Anirudh Da? The sacrosanct who defeats fear and cheats death for fun!" She chuckled, but the pain behind her words was palpable.

"Whatever you decide, Raimoti, you have my full support," Anirudh said, reaching out his hand. Raimoti instinctively grabbed his wrist, touching her forehead to it, and her eyes broke all barriers of emotional resistance. She cried her heart out, sobbing Satyakirth's name, and Anirudh sat patiently, holding her hand. His own heart was full too.

The last seven days had been the worst he'd ever experienced. He vaguely remembered his mother's demise and how everything had felt meaningless and tasteless to his young existence, but the sadness he was experiencing now seemed a hyperbolic form of that old, devastating feeling. First Satyakirth, and then his own brother leaving him to face the harsh reality of his existence all by himself. Batakrishna had not only left the house but had also sent a legal notice to him two days prior, claiming his share of their ancestral property. Did Batuk not know that he'd willingly give away everything to him if he had asked even once? The heaviness in his heart felt heavier. Fifty thousand rupees he had demanded, Anirudh thought, and he was willing to give him more... only if he had asked once! But then a sudden thought crossed his mind: why a meager amount of fifty thousand? Didn't Batuk know what their property actually valued? Anirudh's brow furrowed.
Was his brother indeed that foolish?

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Speak Batuk Da, Speak! Remember what Barrister Babu says, 'Words', the 'Right words' alone have the power to wage and seize wars in this world!

Nakul's words echoed in Batuk's mind since the afternoon. It had been eight days since Batuk had whisked Mira away from their Tulsipur house in the dead of night, in just one saree that she was wearing. Did he even ask her if she wanted to come with him? Did he seek her permission? Well, the answer was no, he didn't!
One saree. Batakrishna pondered, but he did buy her another one the next morning, didn't he? Of course, he got his clothes from the college hostel; he always had multiple sets of clothing neatly arranged. But was one saree sufficient for Mira? Suddenly, a sinking feeling started to engulf him as he wrapped up his day at the hospital and began walking to the nearby Kochuri shop to buy their dinner. With not enough money to rent a house, Batuk had taken Mira to his friend's mess, the cheapest room up in the attic, for he had always been too proud to seek charity. And why would he? He was the Jamindar lending money to those who needed. Of course, Bhargavi was different, he told himself.
Batuk ordered two plates of Kochuri to be packed. Every day since their arrival, he had been feeding Mira the same Kochuri from the same shop, and not once did she complain. Batuk suddenly felt remorseful, holding the saal patta containing Kochuri in his hand. Mira never demanded anything, but was it not his responsibility as her husband to provide? Batuk took a deep breath and looked around. It was late in the evening, around nine, and there were few vendors with even fewer pedestrians on the street, only young medical students and patient parties who frequented the adjacent road to College Street. Batuk surveyed his surroundings. There was a vendor selling fresh mangoes at the crossroads.
"Two paisa per kilo, babu, take some," he called out.
Batuk smiled for the first time that day.

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"Koraishutir Kochuri Boumoni, eat, please eat something." Koeli was coaxing Bondita like a little child, urging her to eat, when Anirudh entered their bedroom.

"Go Koeli, I'll be here." Anirudh walked past the bed and sat on the floor beside Bondita.
"Leave the plate here Koeli, will you!" He asked politely.

The room was sparsely lit, and Bondita was seated with her head buried in her gathered knees, her hair open, her saree displaced. Anirudh gently placed a hand on her head.

"Tigress," he called her.
"You are my strength. I know you are hurting, and so am I. But what will I do if you break like this? Where will I go?"
Anirudh spoke slowly, and his words had a magical effect on her.
She looked up and without wasting a single word, threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
Anirudh complied at once. He too probably was craving for this, for this warmth, for this tender assurance that no matter what, everything wasn't lost, and that there was still hope.

"How can... I... I eat Koraishutir Kochuri, Barrister Babu!" Her words felt like a heart-wrenching plea, "It's... It's Batuk's favorite!" She sobbed.
Anirudh wrapped his arms around Bondita and tightened their embrace, feeling the silent sobs that echoed from her heart.

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Do hit like and leave a comment so that i may know my readers are still there. I know there was a hiatus, but I'm back now. At least I'm trying to be. But these days it looks like I'm just scribbling for myself 😁
Awaiting.