Ultimate Reunion

From Familiarity to Care

"Mukundo Babu dropped you home?" Sonali grinned.

"Yes. He did. And I idiotically slammed the door of his car so hard... I was afraid I would have broken something."

"Why are you blushing?"

"Excuse me?"

"You look like he didn't drop you home, but took you out on a date."

"You are crazy, Sonali."

"I think you are crazy. You have always been. About him. Obsessive crazy."

"Shut up already. He is my teacher."

"It's not like he is an old man or something. And hey! It is fine to have a crush. Just remember that he is a married man."

"Married man! You know what! Let's say you are right. And I have a crush on him. Well – I can have that. Why not? He is so charming. Especially when you get to know him well. But what do you think I am? Some beauty queen? Or some Lata Mangeshkar of music? He won't even spare me a glance, Sonali. So, you can put that little, conniving mind of yours to rest."

"Okay. Forget it. I tease you about so many people. What's new? Why are you getting upset about it?"

"You can tease me all you want. Just don't say anything about him."

"All right," Sonali threw up her hands and said on a reconciliatory note, "Shall we get some pani-puri? My treat. To cheer you up."

"Fine!" Piyali grumbled.

--

Piyali found Mukundo standing in the corridor that led to the practice room, when she came the next morning. Was he waiting for her?

"Nomoshkaar, Mukundo Babu," she folded her hands.

"Nomoshkaar," he had started responded to her greeting verbally, instead of his usual silent nod.

"You woke up even earlier today?" she asked. She talked to avoid awkwardness. He was in her way and was making no effort to move. She couldn't just stand there silently.

"How do you come here this early in the morning?" he asked ignoring her question. After he was done appreciating the poetry of lotus in a dirty pond, it had struck him that she lived at least fifteen kilometres away from his home in Salt Lake City. And her usual mode of transport was bus or tram. How did she reach there before five?

She hesitated. Why was he asking that? "By auto. Why?"

"It would be too..." he was about to say 'expensive', but checked himself. "It may not be safe," he said instead, "At this hour..."

"No. It's fine. It's actually Salim Kaku – my neighbour. He drives at night usually. Fetches him good fare. And before going to sleep in the morning, he drops me here."

"Hmm..."

"He has always been very sweet to us. Especially after Baba died..."

"Has it been long?"

"Five years."

"I am sorry."

"Life goes on," she said wanly. Mukundo regretted asking about her father.

"Come in. Sumi will join us today."

--

They often had casual conversations these days. So, she wasn't surprised when he noticed her dress and asked, "Something special today? You are looking different." She was wearing a new red and black salwaar-kameez, noticeably more stylish and expensive than her usual clothes.

She smiled nervously, "Nothing special. Ma got the dress for my birthday. So, I thought I will wear it."

"And your birthday is today?"

She nodded.

"Then how is it not special? Happy birthday, Piyali. You could have taken a break today."

"Break? For what?"

"To do whatever you like."

"But this is what I like the best."

He regarded intently her for a few moments; then said, "In that case, come with me."

They walked through the corridor and entered another room at the end of it. It was isolated from the rest of the house, even from the usual practice room. The sight of musical instruments, books, cassettes and CDs, neatly arranged in the floor to ceiling shelves, with some of them designed specifically to hold a sitar, or tanpura, revealed that it was his private practice room. She watched wordlessly as he uncovered a sitar and brought it to her.

"A Hiren Roy Sitar. Pandit ji had given it to me. Do you want to play it?"

She was tongue-tied and barely managed to nod as tears clouded her eyes. This was a big deal!

"Sit down, then. And stop crying. You can't sing if you cry."

This man, speaking to her so tenderly, was a far cry from the cool, detached judge she had met at first. She wiped her tears and chuckled in embarrassment, "I'm sorry. It's just that... You said that Pandit ji had given it to you. If I get to play it... Baba would have been so happy. He wanted me to learn from Pandit ji. He admired him so much. But that couldn't have happened. You can't imagine how happy I was when you agreed to teach me. It was like Baba's wish getting fulfilled through you. And now this... Thank you. There couldn't have been a better birthday gift for me."

"Why couldn't you learn from Pandit ji?"

"I... I don't know. Baba always wanted it, but never took me there. 'It can't happen' he used to say."

"Hmm... Anyway. Let's get started. Use your birthday gift before time runs out. Let me put an alarm for 5.45. We should be there for others when they come."

She settled with Sitar and asked, "What should I play?"

"Bageshree."

He didn't interrupt her even once until the alarm went off. He had just lost himself in the melody.