Ardapunia, August 2016
After the initial flush of excitement, Pari felt homesick, for London. The food was spicy, the voices were loud, the monsoon humidity stifling. The smell of rain on dry land, that intoxicating smell, had given her a headache. She felt guilty. She lived a life that was so much better. Her space seemed invaluable.
Pari sought refuge in the kitchen. Savouring the hot fritters with tea seemed to be the only blessing. She coaxed Mita to teach her new recipe's that she could try once back at her job. "Ammi, before I leave please ask abbu to get deem-bhora ilish one day," she told Mita one morning. She wanted Mita to teach her tok ilish.
"Do you get all that in London!" ammi had been pleasantly surprised.
Taufiq wanted Pari to come along to the market, but Pari avoided saying she was visiting Ratan cha cha.
To Pari, abbu's incessant tales of woes was like the nagging rain that fell outside. "What a bad season to come," she thought. The money she send each month, converted to a considerable sum in Bangladesh Taka. The tin-roof house that she had left two years back, now had a cement and tiled terrace, there were two toilets with running water. Abbu had bought almost two acres of the adjoining land and now two hired hands worked in the field.
Still it was not enough. Taufiq wanted to extend the house and buy some more land. He also wanted to open their own readymade garment shop. Agriculture was seasonal and there should always be a backup.
She realised, it's never enough. The dreams, they get bigger till they are one with you.
London, August 2016
She never thought she would be happy back in damp and dark London. She came back earlier than Seema, who was staying with her parents, in Kolkata for the length of Raahi's term holidays. One day, as Pari was getting Ashok's dinner ready, he called her from the living room.
"Han dada, bolen," Pari came out wiping her wet hand on her apron and looked questioningly at Ashok.
"Pari you remember my friend who had come to lunch. Monotosh, Monty? Some months back?" Ashok asked, not sure if Pari would remember.
"Yes dada. I remember," Pari said smiling, thinking about how Monotosh had eaten the ilish with rice. Ashok would have remembered something similar, for he too smiled. That day in the evening, while all of them had sat and watched Tom & Jerry on TV, they had laughed discussing 'poor' Monty, who had eaten like a starved man. Seema had gently reprimanded them saying, "aha, bechara aka thake," to which Ashok da had said, "if he knows you will cook and feed him with so much care, he will continue staying alone."
"Monty is starting a studio. He needs actors for the films he is making," Ashok said, his eyes on the screen, as he changed channels quickly. Pari did not know why Ashok da was telling this to her. She kept quiet.
"Pari, ami tomay shoja shuji boli," Ashok said, sounding almost angry. Pari wondered what she had done for Ashok to say that he wanted to come straight to the point. "Monty saw you that day at lunch, and has been after me for months. Today he had called again. He thinks that you can act in his movies," Ashok da's tone had mellowed. Pari heaved a sigh of relief, 'thank God she had not made any mistake.' "It's good money, very good money. Much more than what we pay you. He says it can be a good career for you." Ashok finished that in a hurry.
Pari did not understand where the conversation was heading. "Dada, khabar diyechi ," Pari said, indicating that he should finish his dinner, so that she can wrap up her work. After dinner, she cleaned up and went to the children's room, to lie on her pull-out and watch a movie.
Ashok did not mention anything more for some days, when suddenly from the kitchen, he asked breezily, "Pari have you given thought about the work Monty has in mind?" At first Pari could not hear over the sound of the vacuum. She switched it off and asked, "dada did you say something?"
"The film acting that I mentioned the other day. Monty had called me yesterday. He is very keen to meet you and explain," Ashok said, as he put together a peanut butter-jam sandwich, with sides of bacon crisps. Weekends he liked to indulge.
"I don't know anything about acting," Pari said, restarting the vacuum. "Don't know why Monty dada is after me," she grumbled, as she cleaned.
Next day, it was raining from morning. Ashok asked Pari to make khichudi and ilish fry. "Beshi kore baniyo. Guest ashbe," Ashok said, going for his bath. Pari wondered who would be coming.
Monty came for lunch. He wanted to come at a time when Seema was away.
London, August 2016
Ashok felt irritated as he ran the bath. He had been in a mental turmoil from the day Monty had made the ludicrous proposal. When he had said that Pari's contract ended in October, Monty had wanted to know if Ashok and Seema could let her go sooner.
Pari was good in her work, the children liked her and most importantly Seema had adjusted to her. They had come to depend on her and Ashok knew Seema would never agree, unless he gave her a believable reason. But he wanted Pari to leave.
In the two weeks that she had returned, it had been an up-hill task to share space with her. Weekends they were cooped up in the apartment. Ashok realised that Seema and the children had been the thinner that had dissipated the thick air of longing that he had always felt. Now without them, he felt helpless and terrified that he would falter. He was afraid he would jeopardise everything that they had worked for. And it was just a matter of time; like a bomb the fuse of which had been lighted.
No he needed Pari to leave and perhaps Monty's constant nagging was fate trying to save him. He needed a good story for Seema to agree.