DEDICATED TO:  lonelylamb1 HumbleWinner yaris052018
Thank you for being strangers who helped when I needed it❤

"I don't know if it was the warmth I craved or perhaps it was the light.
It beckoned me closer to replace the dimness, replace it with the bright
Flame that flickered;
Wavering in the breeze,
Struggling to stay alight.
I shivered, moving closer, the temptation
To get warm, to seek the light from close
Was overwhelming.
It hurt. It pained.
It took me a lot to stay awake,
Not succumbing to the cold,
That little beacon of faith, the lit lamp,
Calling me close.
I struggled to reach what had tempted me all along,
My feet pained, the soles bleeding,
The tiny splinters of glass and wood piercing,
The flame alas, flickered one last time, the brightness dimming,
The warmth rendered, an unfortunate illusion.
I cried in agony,
My feet gave up.
I fell to the ground, the cold biting, the strength that had been, remained no longer.
My will to survive alas, killed itself,
Just as soon as the lit lamp of faith smothered, leaving behind residue ashen,
Replicating my frail self laying fatigued, the strength gone,
lifeless.

-Elegiac_Damsel
______

10th October

Third person's point of view:

Farewell; a word that conveys separation, the harbinger of despondency and melancholy.

In Bengal, while bidding farewell, it is customary to use the declarative phrase roughly translating to, "I am coming". Although it may sound like an oxymoron, mothers and grandmothers have taken care, over the years, to impart to the new generations the relevance of this seemingly irrelevant practice.

Through this phrase, one never mars this occasion marking separation with gloom, but with hope and anticipation that one would meet again, that the paths set to diverge today would converge again sometime in the future.

It was the 10th day of the Autumn waxing moon; Dashami.

During Sharadiya Navratri, the Mother Goddess, Durga, is believed to be visiting her maiden home on Earth along with her four kids; Ganesha, Kartikeya, Lakshmi, and Saraswati. She is thus, welcomed home like a daughter, fed and pampered, celebrated and worshipped in every lane and avenue in Bengal. The festivities of Autumn, thus, are a celebration of homecoming, of welcome, of the daughter who is a warrior, beautiful, fierce, and invincible, feared, loved, and revered.

On the 10th day of the waxing moon, that day the nation celebrates the victory of good over evil, the victory of Durga over Mahishasur, the victory of Lord Rama over Ravana, the Goddess bids farewell to her home on Earth, proceeding towards her heavenly abode alongside the destroyer of the universe, the serene and ascetic Shiva.

The local associations and organisers of the 5-day long festival geared up for the immersion of the deity. It was barely 10 in the morning, and the last ceremonial obeisance had already been paid. With moist eyes and a heavy heart, the priest had whispered into the ears of the universal mother, the parting words, asking her to be on her way, to heaven, to return the coming year, and to shower her grace upon her children. The darpan visarjan, the ritual that signified the departure of the Goddess from the earth, was underway, a ceremonial immersing of a small handmirror, as it reflected the idol's serene, beautiful face.

Standing in a corner, clad in a simple cotton kurta paired with denim, Mrinalini observed everyone quietly. Her mother-in-law, who had been offered a chair by one of the neighbourhood boys, was deeply engaged in conversation with a woman, Mrs Saha, who had a daughter-in-law, Nilanjana, around 4 years older than Mrinalini, a self-established entrepreneur with a knack for designing and tailoring, adept in both hand and machine stitching. She managed to sew blouses, dresses, and other ladies' clothing, make embroidered cushion covers and stoles and conduct occasional workshops for those interested. Even in the 7th month of her pregnancy, she had taken it upon herself to design and stitch several blouses and dresses for the women in the neighbourhood, including the one that Mrinalini had paired along with the sari Debarghya had gifted her.

"My daughter-in-law loves what she does," she heard the other woman say, a note of pride lacing her words. "I was so sceptical about her working with that sewing machine, sitting up erect for long hours each day especially since she is expecting, but she seriously managed everything. My son did arrange for a maid who would cook though, so that gave her some time to relax when she wasn't working."

Debjani smiled appreciatively, replying, "Rest is an absolute necessity given her condition, but I must say your daughter-in-law is seriously talented and passionate about what she does. My daughter-in-law was telling me about Nilanjana the day she had dropped by your place to meet her."

Mrinalini distinctly remembered the encounter herself. There had been something welcoming and optimistic about the woman she had instantly warmed up to, christening her affectionately as an elder sister. In the last fortnight leading up to the festive season, most tailoring shops find themselves burdened with the extra workload given the overwhelming numbers of orders. Finding herself in a dilemma, and at a loss, since no tailor would take her order for stitching her a blouse to match the sari, she had sought help from Mrs Nath who had been in the neighbourhood for much longer, who had, in turn, directed Mrinalini to Nilanjana. Hesitantly, she had dropped in unannounced, ringing their doorbell, waiting to be greeted by the older woman with a prominent bulging belly. She had been then ushered in with politeness, offered some water, and after some initial introductions and small talk over tea, she had finally talked about the purpose of her visit. With a smile, Nilanjana had accepted the order, quoting her price, stating firmly that she was charging a bit higher than usual given the rush for the festive season. The two of them had then pored over some designs to select one that would look well on Mrinalini's bodice.

"Mom, can we get back home?" Nilanjana appeared next to her mother-in-law, dragging her husband by hand. "We need to leave. You remember that your son had promised he would take me to my mother's place today for the immersion and sindoor khela," she reminded.

"I remember, child," Mrs Saha nodded. "I have kept my things ready. We will be able to leave on time."

"Aren't you going to your maiden home, Mrinalini?" Nilanjana asked the younger woman, the neighbourhood's new bride, casually, her query generic but piercing in an unfathomable fashion.

"No, she isn't," Debjani intervened helpfully. "This is her first puja post marriage, so it would always be best if she celebrates it with us."

Mrinalini nodded slightly, grateful that her mother-in-law hadn't divulged any details about how she had been married off in a hurry before everyone had relocated, leaving her here, alone, amongst strangers.

"I understand," Nilanjana replied laughing, putting an arm around her husband, leaning towards him. "I was so excited for sindoor khela the first time. It's unbelievable how a year simply went by since then."

"I am looking forward to it," Mrinalini replied, the smile on her face genuine. She had witnessed since childhood, the fun and merriment of the married women who would smear each other with vermilion on the last day of the autumn festivities, with awe, nurturing the knowledge deep within that she could partake in the celebrations only after marriage. She had seen her aunt Srishti going out religiously on the last day of the 5-day long festival every year, socialising with the women, while her mother had been confined to the 4 walls of the house, denied the right to engage or indulge in the celebrations, only because her parting had been washed clean since the fateful day that had rendered her bereaved.

"Have fun!" Nilanjana said smiling at the younger woman, the new bride of the neighbourhood, an illusion of herself from a year ago when she had been a newlywed bride. "We will catch up once I am back from my mother's place on Lakshmi Puja. Deal?"

"Of course, Nilanjana di," Mrinalini promised, returning the warm smile.

...

It was late afternoon.

The married women in the neighbourhood had gathered around the marquee. The idol of the Mother Goddess had been lowered for them to pay their respects and homage before it had to be taken for immersion in the Hooghly river, a distributary of the holy Ganges on whose banks the City of Joy rejoiced and thrived.

Mrinalini had clad herself in a red and white sari, a traditional one that women in Bengal, Assam, and Odisha often wore, a wedding gift from Debarghya's aunt. She had taken care to apply kohl and vermilion, a red dot on her forehead, and had worn all her nuptial bangles, replicating the look of a new bride. Most women around her were dressed similarly, given the occasion. With a silver plate in hand, one that Debjani had given her for the rituals, a pair of heart-shaped betel leaves, a betel nut, some husked rice, vermilion, a lit earthen lamp, and some sweet, she stood aside, behind the other women, seeking to observe them before she could imitate their actions.

One by one, the women, with the help of a high wooden step ladder, touched the face of the Goddess' idol with betel leaves, applying vermilion to her parting, and stepping down after keeping some sweet on her lips, bidding a silent farewell, urging her to return the forthcoming year and to continue showering her grace upon their near and dear ones.

Mrinalini was the last one to step up. One of the teenagers stood by her side in case the rickety step ladder gave underneath anyone's weight. He held the silver plate as she crossed her hands, touching the betel leaves to the idol's face, brushing her cheeks. She kept the leaves back, reaching for the plate and proceeding to circle the same vertically, touching it to the idol's forehead, sternum, and midriff, before taking some vermilion and applying it to the hair parting of the idol. She looked into the lifelike eyes of the idol, conveying silently, communicating through her unexpressed thoughts, hoping that the higher power could feel, understand what she couldn't explain to the world.

"I am angry with you for deserting her when she needed you," she spoke silently, her lips unmoving, pursed to hide the inevitable quiver. "I am angry with you for not protecting her when you should have, but I am hurt by the fact and angrier because she held on to faith, held on to you, someone who failed to protect her, even after everything that transpired. It scares me to think of what she went through. Please protect her now. Protect her, protect my grandmother. Keep them well. I beg of you, Mother. Keep my family safe and healthy. Please don't let go for my mother was strong enough to hold onto faith even after all that she went through, but I won't be able to. Have mercy upon them, upon us. Come back again next year, Mother. I am grateful to you for my life and every little blessing. Do accept my obeisance."

Right after, the women gathered around, taking a pinch of vermilion to apply to each other's parting, and their left wrists, to the noa, an iron nuptial bangle that was customary to be worn, before smearing their cheeks mildly, in a playful manner, thus creating their fun bubble, signifying the end of all festivities. Mrinalini, being the new bride, got ambushed by everyone, the women teasing her incessantly as they smeared vermilion on her face.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60tSbJWJCr0

"Are you accompanying us to the riverbank for the immersion, sister-in-law?" Debrishi asked a red-faced, flustered Mrinalini who had asked Debarghya for his handkerchief to clear the excess vermilion on her face, specifically near her eyes.

"Is your brother going?" she asked him, blinking rapidly, some vermilion having entered into her eye, causing her discomfort. "Or is he going to stay back with your mother?"

"Brishti di and I are going, but I don't think Dada will. He was on the phone a while ago, looking like he was quite stressed."

"I'll stay back," Mrinalini replied, making up her mind. "I would need to cook for tonight. You guys stay safe and beware of crowds at the river bank."

She waited till the idol of the Goddess was lifted into a heavy goods vehicle to be carried to the riverbank, closing her eyes, touching her chest with one hand, her head lowered slightly as she mumbled inaudibly, "Farewell mother. Come back again next year."

The vehicle carried away the mighty, beautiful idol of the Mother Goddess, her serene face, the dark, fearsome, yet kind motherly eyes faded away into the distance. The same light and commotion filled marquee, that had housed the idol for 5 days, was left deserted and empty, the dim light from the setting sun seeping into the darkness, highlighting the single lit earthen lamp that had been left on the wooden platform the idol had graced, the bright yellow and orange flame flickering in the dark; ominous and foreboding. Unstable and obscure, much like the path of the future, vague and imperceptible from a distance.

...

It was late evening. Mrinalini had just finished kneading the dough to roll out bread for their dinner. The rest of the household was quiet. Debjani was confined to her room reading a novel while Debarghya had his eyes on his laptop, busy compiling an Excel sheet for the past couple of hours. Debrishi and Anumegha were yet to return from the riverbank, possibly due to congestion on the road and the long queue at Babughat, where most of the city's major idols are immersed each year.

As it was customary to seek the blessings of all elders on the day of Vijaya Dashami, Mrinalini, after returning home from the sindoor khela, had proceeded to seek her mother-in-law's blessings, bending to brush the dust off her feet and touching it to her head. Much to Debarghya's astonishment and slight discomfort, Mrinalini had sought to do the same with him, reminding him that he was elder than her, in age and relation. She had been hoping desperately to get in touch with Rai, to speak to her mother and grandmother over the phone, but unfortunately, she hadn't heard from them since the last letter.

The doorbell rang. Presuming it would be Debrishi and Anumegha, Mrinalini dusted excess wheat flour off her hands, proceeding to unlatch the front door to their home, opening it only to come across a middle-aged couple and a young man who appeared to be in his mid or late twenties.

She looked at them inquisitively, waiting for them to introduce themselves.

"We had met during your wedding, but I suppose you wouldn't remember," the woman started, her smile friendly.

Mrinalini shook her head apologetically, "I am afraid I do not recollect our meeting."

"That's alright, child. We understand. It is tough to remember faces you come across at weddings," she continued. "We are your sister-in-law, Anumegha's would-be in-laws. This young man here, my son, is her fiance."

Recognition flashed across the young woman's features as she ushered the guests in, her smile polite and welcoming. Seating them in the living room, she courteously excused herself, probably to inform her husband and mother-in-law of the guests' arrival.

She strode across to her mother-in-law's room first, informing Debjani. Walking into her room in a hurry, she grabbed a collared T-shirt from the wardrobe in their bedroom, throwing it across to Debarghya, who had been engrossed in his work comfortably, telling him in a flurry that there were unanticipated guests at home and that he was required to come out to greet and entertain them.

"Would you like some tea or coffee?" Mrinalini enquired, addressing her guests as they sat around the small glass centre table in the living room, making small talk. "I could get you something cold too if you would prefer that."

"We are good with tea, child," Mrs Sanyal, Anumegha's would-be mother-in-law, replied. "You can make it with some milk for all of us. We'll add in the requisite amount of sugar ourselves."

Nodding, Mrinalini went her way, listening in on the conversations from the kitchen as she added tea leaves into boiling water, straining some for sparing a cup of black tea for Debarghya, before pouring milk into the rest.

The doorbell rang again, just as Mrinalini put down the tray carrying the tea for everyone, arranged in neat little cups with matching saucers for each. Following a waving gesture from Debarghya, who got up to open the door for his siblings, she took her seat next to where he had been sitting.

"We usually visit my maiden home first thing every year on the day of Vijaya Dashami, but following my father's demise earlier this year, they are in mourning and aren't celebrating any festival, so we decided to drop by your place. After all, your daughter would be marrying into our family fairly soon, so I thought it would be great for us to come by," Mrs Sanyal explained to Debjani, pausing to sip her tea and smiling at Mrinalini in appreciation.

"Srijit, why didn't you tell me when we spoke in the afternoon that you all would be coming tonight?" Anumegha asked, addressing her fiance as she entered home, striding into the living room. "I would have stayed back instead of rushing off to Babughat like some lunatic."

"It was a sudden decision, and we thought it would be a surprise for you, but I had no idea that you wouldn't be home," Srijit replied, standing up to greet Anumegha with a one-armed hug. "Now, did you get any sweets? It is Vijaya Dashami after all. Can I be the first to wish you Shubho Bijoya this year?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I just undertook an hour-long journey from Babughat, so there have been a plethora of people who have wished me already," she replied laughing. "Now move aside. I do need to seek everyone's blessings."

Debjani immediately made a gesture to her sons and her daughter-in-law, directing them to follow suit. Debrishi rolled his eyes, complying reluctantly, going forward to touch his mother's feet first, followed by the other two elders while Anumegha started with her would-be in-laws. Mrinalini and Debarghya imitated Rishi's actions silently.

"I hope you are staying back for dinner tonight," Anumegha stated, taking a seat next to her fiance and mother-in-law. "Boudi cooks quite well."

Unable to express her annoyance or her surprise at her daughter's unforeseen invitation for dinner, Debjani had to say courteously, "It would be great if you could stay back for dinner with us. We are vegetarians so I am afraid it would be a simple vegetarian meal, but it would be our pleasure if you would allow us the honour to host you tonight."

Mrinalini looked at Debarghya, helplessly. There was nothing notable at home that was worthy of being presented or served to a guest, the dishes she had prepared for dinner being simple. She excused herself, rushing inside the kitchen to scrounge the refrigerator for something that she could make quickly.

"What's wrong, Mrinal?" Debarghya asked as he walked inside the kitchen, having followed Mrinalini on the pretext of fetching a bottle of cold water. "I will send Rishi to get some sweets for the guests. Don't worry if there isn't any at home."

"Arghya, I don't know what I'll serve them," Mrinalini whispered urgently, her eyes scanning each shelf of the refrigerator. "I was planning to go shopping for groceries tomorrow, so there was just enough for tonight and tomorrow afternoon, but what I have left can not be served to them. They'll label us as misers or something equally insulting."

"Bouma," Debjani's voice greeted Mrinalini, who tried to straighten her expressions before turning to face her mother-in-law standing at the threshold of the kitchen dragging her crutch behind herself. "Child, I had no idea that Brishti would end up inviting them to stay for dinner. I couldn't refuse them, but I do understand if there isn't anything much at home. What did you cook for tonight in the first place?"

"Some cauliflower, lentils cooked with some grated coconut, and there is some cottage cheese that I had made yesterday," she replied, biting her lip nervously. "And I guess I can make some potato curry in no time."

"It would be good if you could do so," Debjani nodded. "And instead of offering them baked flatbreads, serve them some luchi (deep-fried flatbread)." Turning to her son, she said, "And get some sweets. You always need to offer something sweet to a guest, especially since they are here on an occasion."

"Don't be too stressed, Mrinal," Debarghya told his wife once Debjani had exited the kitchen. It's alright to serve them something simple. I am sure they are normal people who eat the same kind of food that we do."

Nodding, she handed him a cold water bottle from the fridge, returning to the potatoes that she had selected from the rack, washing them before she could start chopping.

"I'll manage it from here," she told him, smiling feebly, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand.

...

"It was a pleasure meeting you, child," Mrs Sanyal exclaimed while leaving. "And we genuinely enjoyed the dinner. Please do come over to visit us sometime."

Mrinalini smiled politely, adding, "We would love to host you for lunch someday. I would look forward to meeting you again soon."

Debrishi accompanied his would-be brother-in-law and his parents, hoping to escort them to their car which had been parked outside their lane. The rest of them bid farewell from the doorstep. As they left, descending the stairs, Debarghya closed the door shut before turning to his sister with a harsh glare.

"The next time you invite someone to dinner, either ask beforehand or at the very least take the initiative to check what is available in the kitchen."

...

It was midnight by the time Mrinalini and Debarghya were able to retire to their room. There had been limited food, just enough for the guests, Anumegha, Debjani, and Debrishi. The two of them had been compelled to settle for some puffed rice that was available in the kitchen, in abundance for snacking.

"I guess it's back to normal from tomorrow," Debarghya sighed as he straightened the bedsheets and reached to rearrange the pillows, making the bed. "I swear I could have gotten used to being at home, lazy and relaxed, but I guess life has to go on."

Mrinalini nodded, strolling towards the bed in a self paired pyjama set consisting of an old t-shirt and cotton shorts. Her demeanour screamed fatigue as she settled onto the bed, reaching immediately for her pillow before dropping her head on the soft, feathery mass of comfort.

"Your brother's leaving the day after tomorrow, isn't he?" she asked into the void, not turning, her eyes closed.

Being accustomed to the short hums that would often double as replies, she waited, struggling to keep herself awake.

"Where are you gone, Arghya?" she asked tiredly, opening her eyes slowly.

He was busy arranging his clothes for the office day ahead, the wardrobe door open, the light still on. Shaking her head, Mrinalini closed her eyes again, pulling up the duvet and turning to her side, sinking into a deep abyss, giving in to her fatigue, accepting the darkness that brought to her peace.

The darkness would soon be replaced by the dim light of a flickering flame called the future. She had enough time at the moment, to relax her mind and to allow herself to be cradled in the arms of deep slumber.

...

11th October

The day had started normally for everyone in the Acharya household. Debarghya and Anumegha had left for work and college respectively, while Debrishi had opted to go out with a few of his friends from school.

It was noon. Debjani and Mrinalini were the only ones at home.

Skimming through her notes under the fan in the living room, the heat feeling intense, the latter couldn't help but condemn how little she had had the chance of studying since she had married. She had lost all her initial zeal despite the time she managed to take out for herself between the household chores. Not being in college did not help. The structured, well-planned curriculum of a college or university helped one to streamline and execute their plan of action, something that she wasn't able to do. With the responsibilities she had, and due to the lack of proper resources at home, she had been compelled to study the old chapters over and over again, the content she chose to study each day depending on her mood, doing little to help her enhance her existing knowledge. Lately, however, she had started using YouTube tutorials and free courses on online platforms like Udemy.

The landline telephone started ringing, startling her. She kept her book aside, marking the page she had been reading with a pencil, and lifted the receiver greeting with a crisp hello.

"Mini," the voice greeted from the other end, causing Mrinalini to sit up straight, her hold on the receiver becoming firmer. "Sweetheart, is that you? Shubho Bijoya. I am sending in lots of love and blessings for you, baby."

"Ma," she whispered disbelievingly, her voice quivering slightly. "Shubho Bijoya. Where is Thamma? I had been meaning to speak to you for such a long time! I was hoping to receive a call from you yesterday, Ma. I wanted to wish you and Thamma and seek your blessings like I do every year. I miss you both. When did you receive my letter, Ma? Why are you calling after so many days?"

"I know baby," Rai replied softly, her voice cracking slightly. "I had never imagined that I would have to live without seeing you or hearing from you for so many days altogether. I received your letter 3 days ago, but I couldn't call you since your grandmother hadn't been keeping well."

"What's wrong with Thamma, Ma?"

Rai could perceive the concealed panic and concern in her daughter's tone, her voice feebly quiet. She smiled to herself, replying to her question reassuringly, "She is alright, child. She got a high fever accompanied by body ache, out of nowhere, and so I had to manage the cooking alone in the kitchen for the students who have stayed back at the hostel for Durga Puja. I just got a bit busy then, and so I couldn't call you. We visited the doctor a while ago. The local dispensary had been shut for the four days of the festival, so we couldn't consult a doctor then. She's been prescribed some medicine for the weakness. Do not worry about her. Tell me about you, baby. Are you alright?"

"I am well, Ma," Mrinalini replied in all honesty, keeping aside any incident that might have been hurtful or even remotely demotivating knowing that it would cause her mother unnecessary worry.

"How are your tuitions going, baby? I received the money. I am so proud of you, sweetheart," Rai spoke emotionally, causing a smile to light up her daughter's face. "I purchased a mobile phone with that amount. One of the old staff here was seeking to sell his. It's an old, simple keypad phone, but now I will be able to contact you at any time. It is supposed to be connected to the internet as well, but I am yet to discover how."

Mrinalini laughed, the sound gleeful, carefree, and reflecting irrevocable happiness that nothing that had been weighing on her mind some time ago could dull. She felt proud and happy for the little electronic device that her mother had chosen to purchase using a part of her first meagre income. Irrespective of the sparse amount and the equally modest gift that Rai had treated herself to, she felt like a part of her dream had been fulfilled, the dream that she had never shied away from attempting to achieve since childhood, the one of becoming self-reliant and financially independent, for herself and her family.

The telephonic conversation went on for more than 30 minutes, the mother and daughter duo discussing their new lives away from one another, letting the unsaid, unvoiced concerns be felt through momentary silence, letting the old flickering flame of anguish and agony diminish gradually. Neither of them brought back the unpleasant memories that had wreaked havoc into their lives, the truth having jeopardised their relations and revolutionised their personalities.

"Stay safe and take care, Mini. I'll give you a call on your cell phone as well so that you can save my number. We will talk again real soon. You are my strong daughter, alright?" Rai told her daughter, neither of them willing to disconnect the call, having had the opportunity to converse after 2 whole months, something neither of them had ever anticipated.

"I am your strong baby, Ma," Mrinalini replied, a smile gracing her lips. "I love you. Keep yourself safe, Ma. I won't be able to handle it if anything happens to you."

"I will," Rai promised solemnly.

...

15th October

A celestial full moon graced the clear night sky. The dark alleys and avenues of the City of Joy reflected the pure light which seemed to have descended from the heavens. The air was slightly chilly, the autumn evening breeze soothing. Almost every household in the localities of North Kolkata had been decorated beautifully with flowers. Alpanas, designs and patterns made on the floor, traditionally using a white paste made of rice flour and water, graced the threshold of every door. The markets had closed early, the shopkeepers had left to pay their homage to the Goddess of wealth and prosperity.

Lakshmi, depicted as a serene and calm woman emanating an ethereal glow, clad in red, adorned in gold, seated on a lotus, the one evoked to welcome happiness into the household, the consort of the protector of the universe, is worshipped on Kojagari Purnima, the full moon night that precedes the new moon night marking Naraka Chaturdashi, or what one popularly celebrates as Deepawali. In Bengal, the rituals are done majorly by the women of the household, who are recognised as the incarnation of the Goddess, in their respective families.

She had carefully drawn an alpana near the door leading to their home, taking her time to make a beautiful and intricate pattern consisting of flowers and leaves. From the door, she had traced a path to her mother-in-law's room, which housed the deities, drawing a pair of feet neatly, signifying the entry and presence of Goddess Lakshmi in their home.

IMAGE SOURCE: Pinterest (Retrieved: 6th October 2021)

Link: https://in.pinterest.com/pin/508343876692479290/

Following Rai's instructions, which she had managed to pass over the phone, Mrinalini prepared several delicacies that would be offered during the worship. She diligently changed into a fresh sari in the evening before the priest arrived, keeping everything ready. Starting from the liquid vermilion to the sandalwood paste that would be needed to anoint the Narayan Shila to the new pairs of conch and coral bangles, Alta, and every other component that was required either for offering or some ritual, everything had been set. Their home had been arranged neatly, and Anumegha had very graciously helped her sister-in-law arrange some flowers to give it a more polished and beautiful look, the fragrance of the flowers emanating positive vibes and imbibing it into the atmosphere. Adhering to her mother-in-law's request, she had also applied Alta on her feet.

Following the puja, she was asked to read the Ma Lakshmi Panchali, which she was already obligated to read as a part of the weekly worship on Thursdays. The lamp had been lit in front of the Lakshmi idol, its flame highlighting the Goddess' calm aura as reflected by the serene face. Seeking the deity's blessing for the family, for their home, praying for prosperity and good health to thrive in their household, Mrinalini prostrated in front of the idol, sinking to her knees and bending to touch her forehead to the ground. The box of vermilion that had been offered to the Goddess was given to her, duly blessed by the vested powers of the almighty deity who was the keeper in the household, the one who endured and conquered, the one who sought to maintain peace, expecting nothing but love and respect, in return.

The Goddess enlightened the household, kept the firewood burning, the kitchen filled with grains, and the mind filled with peace, the thirst quenched, and hunger satisfied, but only when the lamp of love and respect stays lit, providing warmth and light.

...

17th October

"I got two more students. They will be starting from November," Mrinalini shared with Debarghya exuberantly.

She had just heard back from a woman in the neighbourhood, who had two children- two girls; one in the seventh grade while the other was in the tenth. She had been approached to teach Science thrice a week and to take additional English lessons once a week. Since the elder girl had to appear for her board examinations in the coming year, she had been offered more than the usual fees that a teacher would charge to teach at home.

"That's great," he replied absent-mindedly, his focus unwavering from the Excel sheet on his laptop screen that reflected sales figures for the past quarter.

"You wouldn't ask me anything more?" she pressed on, raising her eyebrows, realising that he was far too preoccupied to pay heed to her. "I am going to get around 3500 rupees for the two children. This is so unexpected," she continued, hoping to get a more enthusiastic reaction from him.

"Mrinal," he began, keeping aside his reading glasses, stretching his limbs on the bed. "I am happy for you, but I am sorry if I am unable to express the same at the moment. I am working."

She sighed, sitting next to him, the radiance on her face diminishing at his lack of enthusiasm.

"Why is it that you barely get a break?" she asked. "It's a Sunday and you are working. I neither your job nor your work. You are stressed all the time and I barely see you looking carefree. There are no specified hours defined for working, and you also need to travel multiple times in a month. I haven't known you for too long, but I don't think you are happy with what you do. In fact, how can anyone ever be happy with a job that just gives them stress?"

He looked up at her, his eyes seeming dull, tired, the worry lines etched across the expanse of his forehead more prominent now that she could look at him from up so close.

"It is complicated, Mrinal," he replied at length. "Honestly, no one's ever happy with a job that causes stress and doesn't pay much, but that's how life is. There's enough to keep the wood kindling, and sometimes you don't have a choice. With the years I have been in this profession, I can tell you with conviction that no one in sales is in it willingly. Most of us in this profession are driven by hunger, not by passion. And about the job, I highly doubt if you know my job profile. I am just a notch above the salesmen who wander around from door to door, trying to sell goods, and then getting doors slammed on their faces in a humiliating way. And actually, you should know that I had started my career the same way, from scratch."

He continued explaining to her why his job came with the unnecessary burden of stress and certain situations that he was subjected to each day, things becoming more ruthless during appraisal time, why he was hanging on to the job with his dear life, and why he feared unemployment due to the huge competition. He touched briefly on his regret at his inability to take things where he had originally planned to but steered clear of the topic soon. They had financial issues that he struggled to keep at bay when it came to day-to-day conversations. He had tried to keep the concerns off the table, not willing to burden his family with problems that were beyond their control. He revealed to her that things weren't going too well and that there were certain financial issues incoming that he was trying fervently, to keep at bay. There was a cash crunch, problems at his place of employment and that he had extra work to do, something that would hopefully pay off in the following financial year in the form of a much needed increment.

"Did you ever feel resentment towards your siblings because they could study ahead, go forth to get jobs and positions that could have been yours?" she asked quietly, his hand in hers, her thumb stroking the back of his hand gently.

He gulped, his Adam's apple wobbling briefly, the negligible quiver of his lower lip perceptible to her. He looked utterly vulnerable as he said, "I hate to speak a lie, and the truth isn't something I am proud of."

"You do," Mrinalini whispered. "It's alright. It just makes you human. I haven't been in your shoes, but I know it hasn't been easy for you."

"It's never easy for anyone," he replied, his smile subdued and vague.

They were silent for a while, absorbing their thoughts and words, both voiced and unvoiced.

"How much do you hate being stuck here?" Debarghya asked her, his voice low, his eyes unsure, fearing her response. "You could have easily lived a different life. Even if you had to get married, you surely had other options. Some else could have given you a better life or a lifestyle."

"I suppose it wouldn't be wrong to say that you could potentially be happier elsewhere," she retorted. "Perhaps a woman with a less complicated family. Someone sans baggage, someone a bit older, a bit more mature. The what-ifs don't cease, do they?"

He whispered apologetically, "I am sorry." His forehead was creased, an ache in his back causing his features to contort in pain.

"Finish your work and get some rest," Mrinalini replied shortly, standing to go, giving him space. "Maybe that will help you with your mind and sanity."

"Mrinal," he called out, willing her to turn back and face him, to finish the conversation, to ask her something that had been on his mind for too long. "Will we ever... you know... do?"

The tips of his ear turned red, the hesitance in his demeanour completing the question, conveying to Mrinalini what his words couldn't. He looked up very briefly, doubtful of the reaction it would fetch from her.

She had gone numb, her features stoic, her eyes glassy, and her limbs lax, immobile.

...

To be continued...

PUBLISHED ON:  14th October 2021

Author's note:

Firstly, I wish you all a very Happy Durga Puja, Navratri, and Dusshera. I hope all of you are well and safe. May Goddess Durga bless you all and I hope goodness conquers evil always!
Do take care of yourselves and your loved ones.

I am writing after a long time today, and I would like to share something with you all. 

Around a month and a half back, one of my readers had very thoughtfully texted me, sharing with me that she suspected Mrinalini was being plagiarised and reproduced here on Wattpad, going by the name, "Behind Closed Doors" by K_Katyal. 

I was shocked. Initially, giving the suspected author the benefit of doubt, I had asked a few of my friends to read her book and to tell me if they feel there's a lot of resemblances, judging from a neutral point of view. They confirmed my fears and suspicions, but I still refused to complain, prompting myself to read the book myself before I could confront the author in question, accusing her. 

The experience was overwhelming. I went numb. The book seemed to be an utterly clever paraphrased and slightly edited version of Mrinalini, bearing uncanny resemblance and similarities that truly shocked me. I felt hurt at the fact that something I had put my time, energy, and thoughts into was being so ruthlessly doctored and published under someone else's name.

The accused promptly deleted the book and her account subsequently, denying that she plagiarised my book, right after I complained with Wattpad, filing a DMCA form against her. 

As an avid reader since childhood, as an author on Wattpad, and as a human being, I have always valued the efforts one puts into any creative work. For any author, every character, every word, every sentence they write, bear a significance that cannot be understood by anyone else. It takes blood, sweat, time, and a whole lot for someone to try writing something, overcoming each qualm, each challenge. It takes sleepless nights at times, it takes a restless mind.

Plagiarism is a serious offence and we must stand against it. This is my earnest request to anyone who may be reading this; PLEASE SPEAK UP IF YOU FEEL SOMEONE'S WORK IS BEING STOLEN OR COPIED IN ANY WAY.

PLEASE VOICE YOUR CONCERNS. Plagiarism is a crime and if you support it, you just become an instrument in the same. 

With this, I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to everyone who stood by me during this time and gave me hope and courage when I felt disheartened.

Devoparna di,

Harini,

Shreya,

Mythili, 

Sagnik, 

Varun,

Adwitiya di,

Shivangi di,

Surriya, and a few readers here on Wattpad, THANK YOU!

Please do speak up against this unethical crime called plagiarism every time that you can, and I say so as a reader. It hurts the readers too, to know that the book that they so dearly loved was a hoax, someone else's hard work. 

Let's make this community here on Wattpad better, for all of us.

Keep hoping. Keep strong. Keep smiling, and thank you for everything.

KEEP FAITH if you are having a bad day today. Life is going to give you a billion reasons to smile. 

Do let me know what you feel about the story and the chapter. 
Take care of your health, please continue taking precautions. VACCINATE yourselves and your loved ones for the sake of your own safety, and trust me when I say this, I just don't say for the sake of saying, I am VACCINATED myself.

Love,

Elegiac_Damsel

P.S. Take care :)

P.P.S. Thank you for everything. Please do VOTE, COMMENT, and SHARE if Mrinalini has been able to find a place in your heart.