Tides of Distant Shores

२ || The Distressed Flower

'He will keep my daughter happy, wouldn't he?' Mandakini wept. 'My Parul will be happy there!'

'Ah, stop crying like that!' Somen chided his sister, while Bilash, her husband watched her cry with a distressed face. 'I'm not killing my niece, I'm only taking her to my house.'

'But you said you will marry her off. You said there was a decent groom for her in Bhagalpur!' Bilash sounded more distressed now. He still had two daughters to marry off, and the previous five marriages had left him penniless.

'Of course Bilash. He is a good man.'

'Whats his name?' Mandakini asked, wiping the corner of her eyes with her aanchal.

'Mahendranath Roychowdhury.' He said, mentally congratulating himself for remembering the name he had made up impromptu, three days ago.

'And what does he do?'

'He has a big business in Bhagalpur. Don't worry, he's not old. Just twenty-five at most.'

'Will he keep Parul happy?'

'Of course dear, don't you worry about that!'

'He wouldn't ask for dowry, would he?' Bilash asked for the zillionth time.

'No Bilash! He is very new-fangled. He believes on all those 'equal rights' nonsense the politicians are feeding people.'

Parul, who was standing at the very corner of the gate, clutching her green painted trunk tightly, suddenly perked up. In her mind's eye she envisioned her husband as a tall bespectacled man wearing spotless white Panjabi. Having imagined about the man she would marry all her life, she was exhilarated to get even a small inkling about her would be husband.

Mahendranath Roychowdhury.... The name sounded delicious in her mouth, though she knew she could never address him by his name. Yet, it made butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Only if she knew that he didn't really exist....

* * *

The train whipped through the cold darkness of the night. Parul gazed out of the window intently, observing the ghostly shadows of the scenes running past her. She had never left the confines of her house in North Kolkata, except occasionally visiting the nearby temple. Today, finally stepping out of the house just at the eve of her fourteenth birthday, she felt like a bird liberated of its cage. How many women had the fortune to travel by train? No one she knew had even seen the railway track, let alone ride a train. Yet, there she was, going to Bhagalpur in the first class compartment of a railway coach. She couldn't stop thanking her fortune for this unique experience.

'Ah Parul, don't lean too much on the window, you'll get injured!' Somen chided her in a patronizing tone. If he were to get full payment, he would've to deliver her alive and unscathed. Injured women do not fetch good price.

'Just a little more, mama.' Her excited voice echoed through the empty compartment.

'As you please dear, but don't hurt yourself!' he whispered, his mind cackling evilly.

* * *

Parul's days in Bhagalpur were bleak. Somen, who was a childless widower were rarely at home, and when he returned at night, he smelled of a horrible stench. Parul did not dare to approach him. All her life, she had known Somen to be a benevolent uncle, who loved his nephews and nieces dearly. She wondered how that man could ignore her existence so blatantly. The only companion she had was Kamli – a Bihari girl who worked for Somen. Though she didn't know an ounce of Bengali, she still tried to converse with Parul. Both the women were lonely in their confinements, and were glad to have each other. Often, Parul worked alongside Kamli, and giggled over girly affairs. Between chores, they tried to imagine how Parul's husband would be. Despite the linguistic difference, at the end of the month, Parul realized she could talk appreciably in Hindi.