By the time Shimonthini and Rupert returned from the hospital along with Sipra the wedding guests had all left. Rahul and Shinjini were well off on their way to their marital home. Instead of calling a cab and starting right away Rupert suggested they all have a cup of tea to cool down after the hectic night. Sipra led her son in law across the alley and into their two room apartment. The wedding had to be organized at a rented marriage hall nearby. Rupert entered the home and sat on a plastic chairs kept in the dining room. Shimonthini went to the kitchen to make the tea while Sipra went inside to change into something comfortable. When she brought out the tea Aunt Rupa had joined them. She informed that the rituals had all been performed without hindrance and that she had taken Sipra's place in the ceremonies. Shimonthini poured out a cup of tea for her aunt. Sipra came back at that very moment. Shimonthini handed her mother and her husband a cup each before sitting down with hers. Aunt Rupa took a sip of the tea and spit it out into the saucer. "Is this tea? Don't you know how to make tea also? What have you done in all these years? Where is the milk? Where is the sugar? The tea isn't even flavoured right. Did you boil the tea leaves in the milk? How will you get a good flavour if you don't boil it. It smells like medicine." she reprimanded.
Rupert took a sip of his tea and smiled. The tea was light and flavourful without milk or sugar. He didn't understand what the commotion was about. He looked to his wife who had her head bowed in shame. He wanted to wrap his arms around her to face her accuser but perhaps it was too soon for him to fight her battles. But he couldn't help his natural instinct.
Sipra who was diabetic also took her tea without sugar though she preferred it with milk. Shimonthini offered to make another cup but Aunt Rupa left without giving her a chance. "Mother, can you drink this tea?" Shimonthini asked. Sipra answered "It is alright. It is how I am supposed to have it. Why don't you make your husband a proper cup?" Then she finished hers in a gulp and stood up and reached out for Rupert's cup. "I apologize that I didn't ask you how you like your tea. Let me make you a fresh cup." she offered.
"No. I actually prefer my tea like this. This is excellent." He said and Shimonthini blushed. She only told her mother that he found the tea satisfactory.
By the time they started for the Mukherjee house all the festivities had ended. The Matriarch had given up waiting on her eldest son. When the couple arrived in the house it was time for the people to go on their afternoon siesta. Rupert figured there was no one to watch and so he gently picked up his protesting wife into his arms as they crossed the threshold of a home where they both were to be aliens for some more time to come. On their way the bride and groom had submitted an application at a local church to finalize their wedding. Since neither of them was a member of the parish they had to wait out for a good fortnight before the ceremony could be solemnized.
Rupert led Shimonthini to his room which was, in reality, the guest room and sat her down on his bed. "We will be staying here for a few weeks or a month at most." He explained. "Then we'll be returning home."
Shimonthini did not ask him where home was. For all intent and purposes, he was her home. The gentle rhythmic sound that vibrated through the entire house was that of its occupants snoring in slumber. Not knowing what to do Rupert brought forward a suitcase from under the bed and took out a book. It was a collection of Short Stories by Guy De Maupassant, one of Shimonthini's favourite authors. She mentioned as much and Rupert pulled her on to his chest and they opened the book going through pages of bliss that held no relation to the material world outside. The story that Rupert opened was "The Father". The story held a lot of significance to him which he was not ready to share. Shimonthini did not intrude. They spent the afternoon in an intimate embrace, feeling safe in the arms of a man she did not know a day before.
The Matriarch was the first person to stir in the evening. It was already dark and she made it a personal task to enlighten her home, literally. The light coming from under the door of the Guest room drew her attention and she turned the doorknob to find the just "married" couple holding each other, gazing into each other's eyes. The book lay on Shimonthini's lap and her hands lay in his. The matured couple behaved as if adolescents in first love. The Matriarch cleared her throat and enquired in a choked voice in English the time when they had arrived. The fact that they had entered the threshold without performing a proper Hindu ritual was something that offended her.
"How dare you come inside without a proper welcoming ritual? You could have created a racket, woken someone up. Rupert may be ignorant of these things but you are not." The words were spoken with fervour in perfect crisp Bengali, the kind of which is spoken nowhere in Bengal and was directed towards the new Bride who looked down in apology.
Her silence did not give the Matriarch any grounds to continue her lecture and she returned to her own quarters fuming with indignation. A good part of her wanted to turn the two out of the house until the proper ritual was performed in welcoming them into their home. Then she remembered that this wasn't really their home. They were only guests for a while.
That night both the brides were to sleep with the Matriarch in her room. Shinjini was given the place on the bed beside her which was perhaps once occupied by her husband. Shimonthini laid down on the floor in front of the closet in a makeshift arrangement. The sisters slept so that each faced the other. Shimonthini closed her eyes, content that her Omnipresent God stayed with her despite all the competition outside. Shinjini eyed the woman who was her mother's hero. Aunt Rupa had explained how she was responsible for her father's ill health. She had also explained how they had hijacked her mother in the dead of the night to make her farewell ceremony incomplete. There were a lot of reasons for her to hate her sister but with Rahul in her pockets, there was little to worry about. The thought brought peace to her mind and she yawned. The night was still young.
Rupert lay in the adjoining room video conferencing with his business partners/ friends. He hid from them the situation in his personal life especially the one laying with his birth mother under the same roof. Even if he wanted to tell them there was little to tell. Legally he was not married yet.
The Matriarch herself lay restlessly awake. The two women who shared her room for the night were to be a part of her past and her future, a past she did not do justice to and a future she was trying too hard to justify. The one reality that stared her in the face was the age difference that existed between Rahul and Shinjini. Rahul was almost twice as old as her. How would the match survive? She had doubts about the other pairing but they seemed to bond very well, too well in fact. Shimonthini did have her ways with men and Shinjini's accusations about her character did not seem too far off.
At the same time, thoughts of another woman kept Rupert uncomfortable through the night. She was not a love interest but a business interest, an investment in a talent he had made years ago. Among the multi-billion dollar Business Empire that he owned a great part was lifestyle industry. He owned top hotels in every country along with his friendsand he owned couture fashion labels that princesses sought after. He ran those labels under their individual name to maintain a healthy competition and give credit to the designers. His chief talent Madam M was suddenly missing and the London fashion week was just a month off.
How can someone disappear from society? Is that so simple to dodge the constant policing of the layman and the bystanders? The world is not a Stasi ghetto. Still, in every nook and corner, we are being watched. How we talk, how we move, how we dress, everything passes under the social scanner of approval and disapproval. How can a person slip under that invisible radar of judgment? It was left for Rupert's P.I.s to find out. Preliminary search threw up dust into the air. Madam M was a brand in herself but it was as if the woman never existed. The entire money trail ended at a dummy third-person account where it remains almost untouched. The few grand that were missing was credited to a Mr. Juneja who seemed to be her agent. Rupert shook his head. Maybe Madam M was defrauded by her agent and killed. Maybe her body would be recovered half decomposed in some dismal shack in a country town while her money kept being drained by the man whom she trusted. Bloody Indians he thought and then corrected himself. He was an Indian too even if half. The woman he was to marry was a complete Indian. Then he suddenly remembered the wedding. How was he going to manage the wedding and the London Fashion Week? The answer was simple. He needed his adoptive brother to give her away, in Paris.
Rupert closed his eyes trying to dream about his wife. The woman who pranced in his thoughts dressed in a navy blue evening gown, however, was not who he should dream about. The velvet mask prevented him from seeing her face. Her lips held a salacious little smile. She was begging him to follow her. They were running through a foggy meadow in the dimly lit autumn dawn. Suddenly it was dark and the ground started to give away. Rupert fell for a long time and it almost seemed like the two were suspended in air. Her ebony black hair flew all around them, tossed about in the fall. Her lips were moist and painted a deep alluring red. He could almost touch them with his. That was when he started to fall all over again. When he opened his eyes he was lying flat on his bed. His Madam M was still missing and his wife slept somewhere in the same house.
Shimonthini woke up from something. It was a rat scurrying past her. She sat up scared. She rubbed her arms trying to get rid of the chills. It wasn't particularly cold. She was reluctant to sleep again. Every time she closed her eyes she was thrust back a week in time. It was as if her psyche was taking it out on her for being happy, too happy in the promise of the future Fates had provided her. Shimonthini did not know her ways through the house but she decided to ramble her way to the refrigerator for a sip of cold water.
The kitchen wasn't difficult to find, especially with the lights on and Rupert sitting in the middle with a bowl of ice cream. The noise from Shimonthini's bangles startled him. Perhaps Rupert would have preferred a different face to the woman he just dreamt of cheating on. Then again she was perhaps just what he needed. He offered her some of his ice cream and asked her to grab a spoon. Shimonthini smiled and picked up a spoon from the counter he pointed at.
"No one in this house likes ice cream," said Rupert, melancholically.
"I love ice cream,"Shimonthini said, smiling and they dug in. A crow started crowing outside. It was a few hours till dawn and they decided to spend hours trying to get to know each other. Rupert only hoped she wouldn't see the guilt in his eyes. Soon the air between them got awkward. Neither had anything they could share openly and both were overcome by the pulsating desire in their veins. Rupert's hand came across the table to hold Shimonthini's who gave a little shudder of excitement at the touch and clasped on. The atmosphere was electrical, uncomfortable and alluring at the same time. All it took was a trembling of her lips to break Rupert down. He pulled her close till their lips met.
They tried to part a dozen times every time returning to continue the kiss. Rupert's hand roamed her body freely and Shimonthini closed her eyes. When Rupert reached down to carry her off in his arms did she shriek! The shriek was involuntary and it jarred Rupert to the core. He put her down and cupped her face forcing her to look into his eyes. Both were panting but Shimonthini's eyes were moist. "I need more time" she said. Rupert pursed his lips and nodded. "Of course you do. I am here." so saying he wrapped his arms around her. Shimonthini enjoyed the embrace, feeling safe. Rupert decided it was better to leave the scene. They went into the TV room and turned it on. They spent the wee hours of the morning watching a rerun of "Two and a Half Men" on television.
Morning came sooner then they had hoped. Rupert led Shimonthini by her hand to the terrace where she got to enjoy a sunrise beyond the trees. The house was one of the few places in Kolkata still surrounded by greeneries. Though the government promised a green drive every other year it only resulted in large trees being chopped off to plant saplings, saplings that died off soon in the polluted air. Shimonthini took a deep breath. The air was fresher than she expected though not as fresh as she was used to. There were a few chairs kept on the terrace where the couple sat down, both reluctant to part and unable to voice their thoughts. The silence that hung between them was poignant.
It was broken by the sound of bustling that had started in the house by then. Alarms were ringing one after the other. There was the noise of gurgling and taps being opened. They decided to go inside so as not to be missed. At the bottom of the stairs, the Matriarch stood expecting their descent. Her face told them to be scared but Rupert couldn't help smiling. When she had forced him into this relationship not thirty six hours ago she may have never imagined where this relationship would head to. Neither had he! He still had his fingers crossed.
"When I decided to make you a part of my family I was taking pity on you." She addressed Shimonthini. "I thought you deserve a chance to mend your ways. I cannot be angry with you for winning your husband's heart but there are customs and traditions. Which part of customs and traditions do you not understand?"
Shimonthini did not have much to say. Truth was that there was very little she understood about the customs and traditions of this place. Almost all of the traditions are based on folklore that take root in children's stories. Rupert watched on as the Matriarch pulled Shimonthini into her room. There were still more rituals to be performed he guessed.