His Fallen Petal

{16} Nightmares

The Calcutta air clung to her skin like a memory. The scent of moist soil filled her nostrils as she gazed on to the familiar site.

Bondita stepped out of the black tonga, the wheels creaking to a halt on the gravel-lined path that led to the gates of Rajbari Nivash, her maternal ancestral home. The haveli stood just as she remembered, if not more ancient, wrapped in climbing vines and the golden hush of late afternoon. The iron gate gave a reluctant groan as the chowkidar opened it for her.

Her luggage trailed behind, minimal and purposeful. She hadn’t brought London back with her in trunks. Just herself and that was enough.

As she crossed the threshold of the wide courtyard, her footsteps slowed. The red oxide floors, the carved wooden pillars, the scent of sandalwood and burnt ghee from the kitchen, all of it rushed at her like a wave she wasn’t prepared for.

And then came a voice, sharp and quivering with age:

“Who dares walk in without calling out in this house?”

Bondita turned.

There she stood—Thaku Ma, her grandaunt. Stooped but fierce, dressed in her traditional white sari with a tightly knotted bun and a gaze that could slice stone. The years had carved deeper lines into her face, but the fire was unmistakable. She met her seven years ago for the first and last time.

Bondita dropped her bags and walked forward, her hands folded.

“Thaku Ma… aami Bondita.”

The older woman froze. The brass pooja thali in her hands wobbled slightly before she placed it on a nearby ledge.

She took a hesitant step forward, squinting as though memory could not be trusted. And then, just like that,her wrinkled hands rose, cupped Bondita’s face, and pulled her into a tight, trembling embrace.

“Ma Durga… you’ve returned,” Thaku Ma whispered, her voice cracking. “You’ve grown…  so much.”

Bondita didn’t reply. Her arms closed around the older woman gently. The warm folds of the sari, the faint scent of camphor and tulsi leaves, it was the first real comfort she had felt in years.

They stood like that for a while. Granddaughter and grandaunt. No explanations. No questions. Just breath and the weight of everything unsaid.

Tm:- Bondita... Tune bataya nhi tum aa rhi ho? Hm tumhare swagat ki tayyari krke rakhte..

B:- Isiliye nhi btaya. Mai koi mehmaan thodi hu?

Tm:- ruko... Mai sabko bulati hu... Tupur... Tapur... Are niche aao sb log. Dekho kon aaya hai...

The sound of anklets filled the hall. Tapur came down the stairs rushing hearing the call. Her steps halted at the sight. Thaku maa was smiling? What?!

Tm:- Are khadi kya hai... Teri behen aayi hai.. Dekh.

That's when she saw the girl in her early 20s standing beside thaku maa. A small smile on her face.

Ta:- Bondita! Tu kb aayi... Wow!

Before Bondita could react tapur engulfed her in a hug and twirled around. When she finally calmed down and sperated from the hug Bondita could finally come to her senses.

B:- Oh maa... Ye kya tha.. Pagal hai kya...

Just then they heard a low, almost quit sound of anklets. Bondita turned and looked at the source.

B:- Tupur!

Tupur saw her and an instant smile came in her face as she hugged Bondita.

B:- Kaisi hai?