Seema was not picking up the call and Pari realised that her new number was not saved on Seema's phone. There was no shoot today. She felt low on days like this. At Seema di's she was always surrounded by work, by people, by noise.
How long back was that? Six months? Seemed like always, thought Pari. The shame, the pain and the fear were inconveniences she had ignored, when she held the crisp, coloured notes every Friday. She doubled the money that she was sending to abbu. Thrilled and proud, they told relatives and neighbours about her job in an office.
Khalu had asked questions. "Khalu I am doing a professional course and working part-time at Ashok da's friends office," was how she had explained the situation.
Monty was out with Chris and few other boys, watching the Arsenal Chelsea finals at Mirage. Pari had no interest in football. She wanted to go out for a movie, and dinner. She had made it clear that she was not going for 'Alien Covenant.' "Anything but that," Pari had said determinedly when Monty promised that they would go for the movie tomorrow.
Sitting alone she thought of Monty. They had started sleeping together, soon after she moved in. It was not discussed; it seemed like an accepted arrangement.
The day Monty had come for lunch, he had made his proposal upfront, sitting in Seema di's living room. Ashok had feigned work and gone to the bedroom. "Pari, I don't know how much you understand, but I am starting a company that will make 'blue film.' Pari looked uncertain. She had heard this term. She had heard Seema talk about it, on the phone. Seema had said that they were 'bad' movies, when Pari had asked her.
Why was Monty da talking about bad movies. When Monty had gone on to explain what she would need to do, she had started crying. Ashok da had come hastily and then both of them had sat on the couch in guilty silence, while she stood beside the living room door and cried. Monty da had left after sometime and Pari had gone back sniffing to her room and closed the door.
Then everything had changed.
London, May 2017
She turned on the television and sat with a bowl of plain yoghurt. The taste was bland and she got up to add a dash of pickle to bring the taste buds to life.
How life can change, thought Pari, unmindfully surfing the channels. She had a shoot tomorrow. She should go to bed. She switched off the television, went to the tiny kitchen and trashed the yoghurt bowl. Monty would be late and she wanted to fall asleep before he came. But when the floodgate of memories open, one thing leads to another, till you choke on them.
Her abbu's illness had turned the table. Ashok da and Seema di had sat with her two days later. They were very kind. Ashok had immediately send some money. But she would now need a job that paid more. "Pari, if I could afford it, I would never let you go," Seema had held her hand when she said this. "Your dada is talking to a few people. We will definitely place you some where better. Don't worry."
She had called Monty, "I am ready to work for you," her voice was steady. "I need the advance. I will send you the address, you wire it." To be fair to Monty, he had asked nothing more and the next day Ratan had called to say that 'she' was a saviour. It had never struck Ratan to ask how Pari had managed to get this huge sum of money.
Ashok da came back from office and gave the good news. Pari had a better paying new job as Monty's office assistant.
Pari experienced a different 'Monty da,' as she moved in. Considerate, charming with a boyish eagerness; he tried to soften her transit into the 'job.' He coached her; their physical relation was part of that coaching, he said. He taught her exercises to build stamina and control her climax; his demeanour, was not clinical but rather loving.
Pari would never know if it was an act to get her trained; she liked to believe that there was some feeling, even if it was lust.
London, December 2017
Khalu's daughter was getting married. She was a year younger to Pari. Khalu would not hear of Pari not coming for the Nikkah.
"Khalu, eyi tow last year ashlam," Pari had said. She had not wanted to go for the marriage. Facing questions upfront was always tricky. "Notun chakri khalu, chute dibe na," Pari said.
Hearing that she could not afford to come so soon, khalu offered to buy her tickets. She had initially asked Pari to come for a month, to help her with the preparations. When Pari said she cannot take a long leave, as it had been just a few months that she had started on the job, khalu reluctantly conceded.
Pari knew that khalu was very proud that she was trying to make a life of her own. The more she showed her pride and showered her blessings, Pari cringed with mortification.
Dhaka, December 2017
The marriage was fun. Dhaka was lively and winter was pleasant. The days passed quickly. Ammi, abbu, Kajol and Shona came for a week. Khalu told abbu that she needed Pari to be with her for a few days after the marriage, to help her wind up. Pari did not go to Ardapunia.
Shona was thrilled with the red jumper. If she had her way, she would wear it to bed. The little time that Kajol got with her, he shared his dream of coming to study in London. Everyone said Pari looked different, rather beautiful.
Though what they actually told Ammu was, "Maiya tow dagor hoilo, Mita," indicating that it was time to get the voluptuous daughter married.