The Masquerade

Chapter 2

2

October 2017

Cremona, Italy

Cremona, one of the most beautiful cities in Italy, boasting of an enormous cultural heritage and a socially rich legacy, woke up to a lazy winter morning to witness the sunshine tearing through the darkness of the receding cold night.

The ancient Gothic architecture, the unique pattern of similar-looking buildings, and the deserted narrow lanes with stoned pathways welcomed the natives and tourists alike to bask in the warmth, beauty, and the simple laid-back attitude that the city promised.

Every morning, Dr. Mrinalini Sengupta began her day with Bharatnatyam, the Indian dance form that she had been learning since she was eight years old. This ritual was nothing less than meditation for her. It helped her enter a state of trance where no trace of negativity, stress, or worry touched her. It was necessary to cleanse her mind and push the despair away from the inner circle of her thoughts for the peace that she needed for her profession.

As a psychiatrist, she met with different patients every day, each with a unique set of problems. They discussed their issues with her to free themselves of their nagging, troublesome thoughts, without realizing that they were unloading their baggage on her. On her part, she tried to listen as patiently as she could before she guided and treated them. However, she was yet to learn the process of 'clinical detachment' - a defence mechanism to deal with the myriad of emotions arising out of empathy towards her patients.

It added to her pre-existing personal struggles. Every night, her nightmares would grow their ugly tentacles, threatening to envelop her and suffocate her. Every morning, she needed to cut those arms to be freed. She woke up tired, having fought her own demons of fear at night.

Every day, the patient consultations, one after the other, poured hundreds of doubts in her mind to tangle with her thoughts and form a mess of their own. It was important for her to stabilize her thoughts before she started another day of an unforgiving routine, and before she claimed her role as an anchor who helped in connecting wandering minds to the bodies they belonged to.

Bharatnatyam worked to bridge every gap. With each piece of music, her poised steps landed gracefully over the floor, simulating a divine connection between the mortal being and the higher power, uniting and aligning her with the forces of nature.

She danced for twenty minutes, but every hope for peace came crashing down when she felt more anguished with every move she made. Usually, it calmed her, but not today. Today, her mind was neither in sync with the music nor with her feet. It coursed through a different journey of its own, following and tracing a time-graph of the past decade. Rudra Raghuvanshi's hoodie with 'R' on the back, Madhumita's enchanting smile when she won the beauty pageant, Bernando's vague fascination for Madhumita, Nancy's giggles on her own stupid jokes, Peter's helpless cries, Ritusmita's strictness, their parents' carelessness guised as chilled attitude with the girls - all flashed before her eyes, one after the other as a slideshow. And then, everything was replaced by a dark screen, followed by the visuals of Madhumita's bleeding body, on the school floor.

Mrinalini felt restless. And distressed. After all, Rudra Raghuvanshi was back in the city, just like she was back from New York.

'Why?' she wondered.

'Is it really a random coincidence, as I prefer to assume? Or is it a planned move?'

'What does he want from me?'

'Does he know me?'

'Does he know that I remember him?'

Even a vague thought suggesting that he might know her gave her goosebumps over her arms and nape of her neck. Did he think about her? Ever? A part of her brain speculated.