London, UK, April 2019

She did not want to leave the bed. Not that there was a lot to do. Off days were boring. She had no friends out of work. And of course no one to call for lunch or to go to lunch to. Shopping, just to pass time, was a luxury. The only shopping she allowed herself was the gifts that she send home, when someone was travelling back. That too mostly bought, over the year, from sales and thrift shops.

She smiled thinking of the jumper that over the six month shelf life, in her suitcase, went short for Kajol, who was shooting up. But families, back home, never lacked the next-in-line, and Shona inherited a boy's jumper stylishly flaunted as the 'new in-thing' in London. And who was to question that in the lanes of Ardapunia.

The anaemic sun struggling at 8 am was not unusual for April. Sliding back inside her comforter, she recalled yesterday evening. Ammi had texted her. Ratan cha cha had died of cancer. They had spoken briefly during her work break. She wanted to call after getting back. But it was late and she was exhausted.

Ratan cha cha's mention had opened a flood gate of memories.

Her night shoot had gone all wrong after the news. Chris was upset that they had to repeat the moves over and over.

"Oh man, get it going," Chris had shouted, unsure how long he would be able to hold himself. And Robin had curled up in his high-pitched girlish giggle.

They had to call it a day; Monty had taken her out for a drink. Monty aka Monotosh Biswas. Her friend, and employer. "What's the matter girl? You ok? Aj tow akdom kenchiye dili."

"Monty da, sorry for the mess up. Ektu onnomonshko hoye porechilam go. Got distracted with ma's call. Will give a super shot next day," Pari had answered sheepishly.

She knew she would. So did Monty. She was one of their best. Their blue-eyed baby doll. And he was not upset.

"Pari, chill. Want to go for a drive? We can climb up Primrose Hill just in time for the sunrise."

"Not today," Pari had said; she was feeling tired.

He had walked her to the tube and pulled her up for a smooch. Pari had resisted. She was too tired to play on and the fact that Monty now had a steady girlfriend, was a dampener.

Pari tried to remember why they had called it off more than a year back.

Ardapunia, Bangladesh, March 2014

Soon she heard her mother's heavy steps climbing the short flight of stairs.

"Have you oiled your hair and soaped thoroughly? You should look neat and tidy," Mita said, entering the room.

She eyed Pari, her hair wound in a chequered thin towel. She was standing in her knee length linen sleeveless frock. She did not look her age, with a flat chest and stick-like frame. Pari stood smiling, her face shinning from the good scrub and a reigned back excitement. "Wear the yellow salwar suit that khala gave you last pujo."

"And hurry up," Mita proffered, as she turned back. She had left the paayes cooking on the stove.

"Ammi, chul ta beni kore dao na," said Pari.

"I don't have time to tie your hair now. There is work in the kitchen," she said, groaning back, down the stairs.

Pari smiled at the reflection. The yellow suited her dusky colour. She wished the mirror was bigger.

"Pari," she heard ammi calling.

She gave a pinch to her cheeks and smothering her hastily and not-too-well-done plait, called back, "coming in a minute."

Ammi had told her that Ratan cha cha was coming and there could be some good news. Pari, as the eldest of the three children, was old enough at 16 to start contributing to the family income. They were not poor, in a third-world sense; they had a bit of land, which her father farmed, with Kajol pitching in during sowing and harvesting. Her mother supplied stitched garments to a readymade goods shop. She had studied till the 8th standard, which was not bad for a girl in a small town, at the back of beyond.

In the small living room, Ratan cha cha was sitting with abbu, and ammi was serving tea. Seeing Pari at the door, Ratan cha cha called out, "aye ma."

Pari smiled fondly at Ratan's endearing tone. He was her father's close friend. Right from their child hood Ratan's visit meant no studies for that evening, luchi and payesh for dinner and some small gift that he would bring out from his cloth bag. The fanfare that accompanied the gift was often more exciting than the gift itself. And that was what made his visits so special. Ratan did not have a regular job, but acted mostly as a middle man for various deals that ranged from real estate to fixing government jobs. He was street smart but honest. People said that he took his commissions but without any under hand dealing.

"The payesh is very nice Pari," Ratan said knowing fully well that Pari had no part to play in it being nice. "It's time to look for a good match, what do you say?" this directed towards Mita, who nodded gravely, both stealing looks at Pari's face, which turned a drab gray.

"No, never. I thought I was going to work and earn," Pari said in a tear-chocked voice.

Seeing that their fun did not go down well, Ratan said, "yes of course!! I was teasing. How can a smart girl like you not catch that."

Ratan had come to know of a job as a 'carer,' in a household with two children. Both parents were working and while the older girl was going to junior school, the younger one was about one and half year old, and needed a nanny. Pari would also be expected to cook and take care of the house. The employers were both researchers at an institute, well-educated and a good family. Moreover they were Bengalis. Pari would have no problem in terms of language, food and can fit in with ease. The only problem was that they were in London. Actually, Ratan said, there were two problems. The second was they were Indian Bengalis and a Hindu family.

"How can Pari go so far," Mita objected tearfully.

Taufiq, Pari's father, told his friend that he wanted to have a call with the London family. "We can take a call after that," he said, in a stern voice, drawing a quick break to Mita's tearful protestations.

Ratan promised to arrange the call. They would be going to his house, the coming Sunday. Pari was tense through the week. Not because she had to go. London excited her, though she did not know much. But in school, her geography teacher, while teaching the timelines, had explained GMT and had mentioned that Greenwich was near London. History also mentioned the city as the home of the Queen of England.

She was tense, as she could hardly speak in English beyond 'yes, no and very good.'