DEDICATED TO: geetha1972 workbehindthescene

" We were two pieces of a jigsaw,

together at some point, side by side,

forming an image, beautiful and sweet;

complete.

A storm fragmented us, the two pieces drifted apart;

the conundrum unsolved, the image lies incomplete, alas.

Separated by a distance that refused to be bridged, 

what we shared lies forgotten; suspended by a mere string.

Some would say this was time, destiny's game;

cruel and vicious, unpredictable and insane.

Perhaps it was meant to be, for our paths to diverge,

before years of healing, and a blessing hidden in a curse 

brought us together again, side by side;

destiny once again being our inevitable guide.

The jigsaw is complete again, the past existent,

impossible to diminish and forget.

The storm that broke us would alas, 

always remain a part of us.

The broken branches, the fallen leaves,

the devastation that had greeted us cannot be replenished. 

What has gone is gone, chasing the past is an illusion,

and to chase it instead of reconciling today, can never be a solution.

We need to extend our hands today, towards each other,

bridging the gap and welcoming a new day, together."

-Elegiac_Damsel

_______

16th August, Navi Mumbai

Tears; saline drops of water that escape one's eyes at moments, grievous or overly joyous. Grief has always been regarded as the stronger emotion of the two.

Grief- an inexplicable emotion that courses through your veins, surging through the wildly beating heart, flowing freely through your tears, or bleeding profusely through a gaping open, invisible wound on your heart.

Just as the waves crashing against the shore wash away the imprints on the sand, the grief of separation post the demise of someone loved can make one forgo all the good memories and moments of joy that may have preceded the catastrophe that brought forth agony.

Such was what had descended over the Mukherjee household; a sudden pall of gloom cast over the sky called life that had a sun called joy providing light and warmth amidst normal momentary showers and thunderstorms called ups and downs.

A crestfallen and exhausted Anindita stared at the deserted streets, through the clouded windowpane, as the rain crashed severely on the tarmacadam roads. It had barely been an entire day since her father's demise, and she felt more emotionally troubled and drained than ever before. The previous day had been tough; first, the news of her father's demise upon her arrival, her mother's emotional breakdown, her cousin sister's shock, coupled with her own grief had shaken her, reducing her to an emotionally troubled state, one that no outsider could decipher with one glance at her calm face.

Despite Satyaki's offer to drive Rohini all the way to Nerul, so that she could stay by Apurba's side, Anindita had politely refused, knowing that he had already done a lot for them, especially in her absence. Moreover, he had his own work to do, and Anindita didn't want him to sacrifice his professional commitments or familial time. The nurse, Ms. Thomas, had helped greatly and had helped the distressed, bereaved daughter manage her mourning, widowed mother, and disheartened cousin.

"Ani di," Aparajita's voice interrupted Anindita's thoughts. She sighed, drawing the curtains, and blocking the view of the rain through the window.

"Aunt doesn't seem well, Ani di," Aparajita continued, walking into Anindita's room and seating herself on the bed, her hand resting on her baby bump.

"What has happened? Ms. Thomas gave Ma all her medicines on time. What is wrong?" Anindita asked her sister, ignoring the blatant throbbing on the left side of her temple.

"Ms. Thomas said that aunt cried a lot and that she got dehydrated and then, in turn, drank a lot of water, way more than the permissible limit for a patient undergoing regular dialysis," Aparajita finished.

"God! I need to take her to the damned hospital for her dialysis," Anindita concluded, already rushing towards the cupboard to fetch her mother's medical files. "Stay at home, sis. I had made breakfast some time ago. Please eat on time."

"Didi, can I not come with you?"

"Sis, please stay at home," Anindita said, her voice almost pleading. "It usually takes time there at the hospital, and you need rest after yesterday."

Aparajita nodded, yielding to her older sister's request, guessing that it wouldn't be good to add up to Anindita's rising stress levels and worries by insisting or arguing. Although Anindita hadn't expressed her fatigue or exhaustion via words, it was apparent that she was affected by the rampant incidents that seemed to be jeopardizing her life further with each passing day.

...

20th August

Anindita was waiting at the arrivals gate of Terminal 2 of the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport, Mumbai. It was past 2 a.m. and although most streets in the city were rendered deserted, this particular section of the airport was totally crowded and functional, perhaps even bursting with a different level of energy. Anindita could witness scores of people in a group standing with banners, probably waiting to celebrate someone's homecoming after long years. There were cab drivers and chauffeurs from several hotels nearby, standing with placards with the arriving passengers' names; some from Hyatt, some from Marriott, and some from ITC, or Taj. The airport bore a very busy, active, and almost happy atmosphere, a far cry from the demure, solemn occasion that marked Anurag and Geetanjali's homecoming, and their sons' first trip to India. 

Contrary to the huge group that had come all the way to the airport to felicitate and welcome their son home, Anindita was alone waiting for the 4 people to arrive. She had driven herself to the airport to receive her brother and his family, leaving Apurba at home, in Ms. Thomas's care. 

Anindita stood near the gate, her hand cradling a cup of steaming hot coffee that she had bought herself from Starbucks, hoping that the caffeine would help her stay awake and aware, and not trigger a migraine. The United Airlines flight from Boston via London, carrying her brother and his family had landed around 30 minutes ago, but being a frequent flyer associated with the field of aviation, she knew that clearing immigration would take a lot of time, specifically now since the wee hours of the morning were the peak time for the arrival and departures of international flights. 

Pausing to sip her coffee, Anindita shuffled, moving her feet to ward off mosquitoes from taking advantage of her steady position and sucking her blood to fill their existent yet invisible stomach. She sighed, deciding to walk around the arrivals section of the airport instead of standing sedentary. 

40 minutes and a walk later, she finally spotted her brother walking out of the arrivals gate, one arm balancing his younger son's sleeping form, the head resting on Anurag's shoulder, and the other arm pushing the luggage trolley forward. Her sister-in-law, Geetanjali followed, her hand clasping their elder son, Aryaman's. Anindita raised a hand waving to them, silently, in an attempt to catch their attention. She walked forward towards them, and wordlessly took the trolley from Anurag, nodding at him in greeting. 

"Sis, why did you drive so late? We could have taken a cab," Anurag said in an attempt to begin a conversation as they reached the parking lot where Anindita had packed her car.

"It's fine, Dada," Anindita replied, opening the boot of her Honda City to load the luggage. "Thank you for coming here. Ma could really do with some time off with you, boudi (Geetanjali), and the two kids. I am so glad that she's finally going to meet Rhitam and Aryaman, after all these years."

"Sis, what about Baba's last rites?"

Anindita stiffened momentarily, having been reminded of the grievous occasion that had beckoned her brother and his family home. She lifted one of the luggage bags with Anurag's help and placed it in the boot before answering, "We'll cremate Baba's mortal remains tomorrow if it is alright. I arranged for them to be preserved at the morgue. The quicker we get done with the cremation, the earlier we can have all the requisite rituals and formalities done. I can understand that it isn't easy for you to take a leave for a long time in such an impromptu manner. And honestly, Dada, I need to sort out a few things once all this is done, and get back to work myself."

"Are you okay, Bonu?" Anurag asked quietly, in an affectionate and concerned tone.

Anindita nodded, a ghost of her smile appearing on her face, despite her inner turmoil. She was okay enough, to not let the world know she wasn't okay.

"Come along, Dada. It's late, and the kids seem too tired. This conversation can be carried forth, at home," she replied, dismissively before slamming the car's boot shut. 

Settling in on the driver's seat, Anindita smiled at her sister-in-law, glancing at the rearview mirror as Anurag slipped into the passenger seat next to her. With nothing but silence doing all the conversation, they drove off into the night, towards the demure, mourning household that had awaited their homecoming; if only it had been in happier times.

...

20th August, morning

Anindita was the first one up in the Mukherjee household, although she had been the last one to retire, the previous night. The mattress on the hard floor in the living room had been hard, and she had been far too uncomfortable to sleep peacefully. Ms. Thomas had left the previous night owing to an emergency at home, leaving the divan in the living room free for use. Anurag had, thus, retired there, leaving Anindita's room and bed to the two kids and Geetanjali. Apurba had fallen asleep in her own room owing to meds and poor health, oblivious to the arrival of her son and his family in the wee hours of the morning. 

Anindita sat up in the makeshift bed, her head heavy, a wave of nausea greeting her. Her migraine had worsened over the past few days, but she hadn't got the time or the energy to consult a doctor. Her only remedy and cure to the pain had been the ingestion of a high dosage analgesic and the local application of pain relief balm. Fighting the urge to throw up, Anindita scampered onto her feet and rushed towards the common restroom in the flat, gagging. She bent over the commode, retching her guts out, feeling utterly drained. 

Everything going around had taken an adverse toll on her being and health. 

Cleaning up herself and washing, Anindita silently went over the tasks that she had to do. She had to contact the hospital's morgue and visit with his death certificate to release her father's body. She had to contact the crematorium and make arrangements there. For now, she had breakfast to make, for everyone. 

Unsure and thinking of what she could make for everyone, Anindita exited the restroom only to find Anurag stirring awake, shifting on the divan where he had been asleep. 

"Hey! Good morning, sis!" he spoke in greeting, stifling a yawn. 

"Good morning, dada," Anindita replied. "Why are you up so early? You have taken such a long flight and you went to bed so late. I am sure you could do with some extra rest. It is barely 7 in the morning."

Anurag shook his head, "You know that I am up for the day whenever I am roused from my sleep."

"That was a long time ago, Dada," she replied coolly. "I wasn't sure if you did the same now."

"Is Ma up yet?" Anurag asked his sister as she folded the blanket on the makeshift bed on the floor that she had used last night. 

"No, she isn't up yet. She has been unwell for the past few days. She has been put on some different medication following a sudden deterioration of her kidney ailment. Her nurse, Ms. Thomas was here, but she had to leave last night since her niece was taken ill. I am here though, and Apu should be here at around noon."

"How has she been doing?" Anurag asked fondly, starting to help his sister with the bedding. "I haven't met her in so long. When is she due? Does she come down here every day?"

Anindita did not object to Anurag's unasked help. She was honestly relieved, even grateful for his help, given her fatigue. Handing over the pillows to Anurag, so she could fold the bedsheets and roll the mattress aside, it almost felt like the old days back in the chawl, when the two siblings would share chores. 

"She is well," she replied at length. "The baby is due in January. She has been coming here every day, since Baba passed away, to be with Ma. Her husband either drives her here or sends her over with the chauffeur. She returns home after dinner every night."

"How did Baba pass away so suddenly, sis?" Anurag asked, rhetorically, speaking of Agastya's death for the first time since he had arrived in India. "That night when you had called, I never expected you to say that he... he left us."

Anindita chose not to comment or reply. Agastya's death had been sudden, and neither of them had ever speculated it to happen so soon.

"Dada, what do your kids eat for breakfast?" Anindita enquired at length, changing the topic swiftly. "I am not sure what you make for them, but there are no eggs at home or anything non-vegetarian since we are mourning. If what they eat isn't at home, I will have to either get something from the market or order something online."

Anurag shook his head, "You don't need to do anything such. I am sure you have oats and bread at home. That would do perfectly well, with some milk and butter.

"I stocked up on mineral water too, for you, boudi, and the kids," she informed him. "It's there in the kitchen. Let me know if you need anything."

...

Apurba woke up late, still feeling tired and weak. 

"Anurag, my child," Apurba exclaimed, pulling her son into an embrace, her hollow eyes welling up with tears. "You are finally here. My grandsons are here too... Son, please don't go back now. Don't leave me here."

"Ma, I..." Anurag began, only to be interrupted by his sister.

Anindita looked at Anurag pointedly, speaking, "Ma, I have got you your medicines and breakfast. Eat first, and then you can speak to your son, your daughter-in-law, and your grandchildren. They haven't eaten yet either."

Apurba nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, distracted by the medicines that her daughter pushed towards her. 

Leading everyone out of Apurba's room to give her some privacy, Anindita started setting up the breakfast table.

Geetanjali volunteered to help, starting to help Anindita with the plates and the toast. There weren't any words exchanged between the two women; they went about their work silently till Geetanjali spoke, asking her sister-in-law quietly, "Why did you interrupt your brother while he was speaking to your mother, Anindita?"

Anindita bit her lower lip, responding in a clipped tone, "I know my brother well, boudi. He would have definitely said something to cajole Ma in her already emotionally troubled state. And I didn't want him to make any false promises whilst he was driven by sentiment. I didn't want him to promise anything that he wouldn't be able to keep."

...

"Mom, we are cremating Baba today," Geetanjali informed her mother-in-law quietly as she played with her grandchildren. Anindita and Aparajita were standing by Apurba's bedside glad to have their sister-in-law by their side in this time of need. 

Apurba stiffened; the weak smile that had graced her face upon meeting her grandsons dissipating. For a while, no one spoke, the room silent apart from Rhitam's whining at his elder brother, and the sound of the rain slapping against the ground.

"Who is going to... cremate him?" Apurba asked demurely, her eyes focused on her knuckles as she gazed downward in an attempt to hide the gloom that was perceptible on her face in the form of pallor. 

Geetanjali shifted towards Apurba, taking her hand gently in hers and clasping it tightly in an ode to reassure her that she wasn't alone. The sweetness in the bittersweet relation that the two shared despite the cold equation between Anindita and Geetanjali, accentuated by the gesture.

"Your son is here for that, mom. He'll perform his father's last rites," she said, her voice reassuring.

Anindita and Aparajita nodded silently, supporting Geetanjali's words. 
"No," Apurba replied abruptly, surprising the three women in the room. "Anurag won't be performing Agastya's last rites."

"What are you saying, Aunt?" Aparajita asked Apurba, stupefied. "Uncle's last rites need to be done soon, Aunt. It's already been more than 4 days since he passed. We cannot delay it further. I understand that you are upset, but..."

Aparajita's voice trailed off as Apurba raised her hand, wordlessly asking her niece to stop talking and to let her speak instead.

"Anindita will perform all the rituals," she said firmly, with finality in her tone. "With or without Anurag.  Just as she looked after me and Agastya, all these years."

Anindita was shocked momentarily. She hadn't been overly keen on cremating her own father and had yielded quietly, without a peek when Anurag had volunteered, as was tradition. 

"Mom," Geetanjali began. "Why would Anindita do it when Anurag is here? You know as a woman of tradition that women are asked to stay away from crematoriums, and you are pushing your daughter into this voluntarily?"

Anindita shook her head, amused than shocked as she had been before. Geetanjali, though a modern woman feared ghosts, spirits, and consequences of breaching or defying what was traditionally forbidden or advised. The initial days of Anurag's marriage had been filled with crazed antics of Anindita and Aparajita who loved teasing their new sister-in-law incessantly over her irrational beliefs, and even Anurag had joined in their pranks to scare his wife. 

"She is doing it," Apurba said again, more firmly, emphasising her decisiveness. "He would have wanted the same. Our daughter is the only one who never lets go of us. The only one bidding Agastya farewell to his heavenly abode would be his daughter."

"Ma," Anindita sighed weakly.

"Heed me, baby," Apurba said, pleadingly. "Do this for him and me."

...

It was 3 in the afternoon and Anindita was at the hospital morgue. She had arranged for an ambulance that would take Agastya's mortal remains to the crematorium. Anurag was there with her, to see his father for one last time, before every physical proof of his existence would be burned to ashes; inevitably, reduced to dust. 

They had decided not to take the body back to the flat; firstly, for the sake of the kids who would have been shaken, and also for Apurba, who had been consistently unwell. She had seen her husband post his demise and had passed out in shock combined with ill health. Hence, following some cajoling and explaining from Geetanjali and Aparajita, she had yielded to their decision, choosing to bid her husband a silent farewell from a distance. 

As was expected of Anindita and Anurag, they had informed the few acquaintances who had known Agastya of his demise and the impending cremation. Anindita had texted Satyaki, informing him of the time and location. She had sent the text as a courtesy, not expecting him to join them at the cremation ground. Aparajita, given her state, was obviously not joining the funeral party. Geetanjali had to stay back with Apurba and her two sons. All in all, the small group that would be going to the cremation ground for the last rites consisted of Anurag, Aparajita's husband, Ranvijay, a couple of men from the chawl they had lived in, who had known Agastya and the Mukherjee's, and Anindita; the sole woman. 

Anindita had a sinking feeling in her gut, her chest feeling terribly heavy as she signed the release papers at the morgue with a trembling hand. Anurag kept his hand on his sister's shoulder in a comforting manner, noticing her. 

"It's alright, sis," he whispered. 

Once done with the paperwork and the formalities, they left for the cremation ground in Vashi, the ambulance carrying Agastya, followed by Anindita, and the others in Anindita's car. Parking the car in the space reserved for the cremation ground visitors and mourners, Anindita stepped out, clasping a small bag with spare clothes that she would change into for the last rites. 

She entered the waiting area cum office of the cremation ground with hesitating steps, her eyes widening in surprise as Satyaki approached her. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked him in a low voice. "I didn't ask you to come to the cremation ground. Why would I? This is such a gloomy, eerie place."

She shuddered at her own words, the reality of the situation sinking in. She was about to set alight a pyre that would reduce her father's cadaver to ashes. It was scary. The same arms that had lifted and carried her as a child, were now lying lax. The same chest that Anindita had pressed her ear against while her father was sleeping did not rise and fall with his breathing as he inhaled. The warmth of his live body traded for the frigid feel of death. It seemed surreal, scary, even unfathomable. 

Satyaki could sense the shift in Anindita's demeanor as her eyes widened involuntarily, her hand shivering as she supported herself by taking hold of the reception counter behind her to keep her knees from giving way. Her vulnerability exposed all that her passive self kept concealed.

"Anindita, have you ever entered a cremation ground before?" Satyaki asked her quietly, already knowing what her answer would be. 

Anindita shook her head, her eyes wide reflecting her anticipated fear and uneasiness. 

"I am not here to impose myself on you at such an hour, but Anindita I have been through what you are going through now," he explained himself quietly, extending his hand for her to take and stand upright. "I have lit the pyres of two people near and dear to me; my father and my wife. I have seen their mortal remains reducing to meager ashes. I know it isn't easy, what you are going to do."

"I never wanted to do it," Anindita managed to croak out, her hand reaching to hold his as she attempted to stand straight. "Ma asked me to do this. I always thought the men did this and with Dada here..."

"It isn't about men or women doing it, Anindita," Satyaki interrupted her. "You need to understand that this can be intense for you and your brother. He is gone and it cannot change irrespective of who performs the last rites. Stay strong and do this. I know your mother has asked you to do this. You have been by their side through thick and thin when your father was alive, be there by his side even now, for one last time, in death."

Anindita nodded weakly, her hand still in his. Satyaki reassuringly tightened his grip, urging her, "Go Anindita. I am here."

The small group at Agastya's funeral waited as the cremation ground workers arranged piles and logs of wood in the form of a pyre, shielded underneath an alabaster shade that would protect the pyre from the descending rain. 

Anindita stood at the foot of the pyre, changed into an old, pale, and modest outfit, her eyes regarding the workers who lay her father's body carefully on the wood, his head facing south. He had been dressed in white, and there were basil leaves on both his shut eyelids. His body had been anointed well with clarified butter, and sandalwood had been used to mark his forehead and hands. 

At the appointed time, Anindita found herself circumambulating her father's corpse with a terracotta vessel on her shoulder, water dripping from a tiny opening. She dropped the vessel near her Father's head unceremoniously, her movement was mechanical, emotionless. She was handed a log of wood that was alight. Glancing one last time at her father's lifeless face, she torched the pyre, starting near his head and eventually to his feet, throwing away the torch used into the pyre, allowing the same flames that would engulf her father to deluge it. The torch that thus fell victim to the might of the very flames of the pyre it had given birth to, much like how Anindita born of Agastya bid him farewell, allowing her hands to light the pyre that would mark his journey to the heavenly abode. 

Anindita's gaze was focused on the flames of the pyre that burnt majestically, destructing the very existence of a human who had lived and graced the earth with his presence for decades, in mere minutes. It was only at this sight did Anindita absorb the absolute reality of what had transpired. The devastation weighing her down as she finally allowed loud sobs to escape her mouth, tears streaming a course from the glacier at the corner of her eye to the delta where her jaw met her throat.

"Baba," Anindita whispered inconsolably, uttering his name repeatedly. Her knees buckled, but she didn't fall as Satyaki was quick to react, his hands going around Anindita's waist swiftly, holding her up against him. 

"Anindita," Satyaki sighed pulling her into a one-armed embrace as she lamented in her grief. 

Anurag who had been a mere, silent spectator to Agastya's last rites stepped forward, towards his grieving sister as the stranger, who he had met just once, consoled her. He placed his hand on Anindita's arm, rubbing it lightly in a gentle, comforting manner. The tears that he had concealed himself begged to be let free as his eyes saw his sister; broken and exhausted. 

Anindita upon feeling Anurag's presence, swiftly turned, her sight, though blurry and hazy with tears reflecting her relief. She clasped his arm, her fingers closing around Anurag's bicep, almost like she was unsure of his presence. 

"Bonu," Anurag sighed, shaking his head, asking Anindita to not cry as his own resolve broke, his voice cracking.

In this brief moment, Anindita knew that her brother was there by her side, now, the past a lingering, distant memory. He was home with her. 

A couple of years short of a decade later, the two siblings were united; in grief.

...

30th August

10 days had passed since Agastya's funeral.

 Everyone in the Mukherjee household had eventually healed. Apurba had gradually started regaining strength and with her grandsons home, she distracted herself by playing with them. Anindita had shut herself off, dealing with pain in the only way she could; through silence. Anurag and Geetanjali's presence helped greatly, and Anindita was grateful for them as they helped Apurba forgo her solitude. Aparajita dropped in once in two days to spend time with everyone at home. Things were gradually returning to normal, with smiles replacing the looks of gloom, time playing its role as a mighty healer. 

Deciding to keep things simple, Anindita had arranged for a prayer service for Agastya at ISKCON Temple, Juhu. The prayer service would consist of the requisite rituals and prayers, followed by a lunch for a couple of hundred orphans that they had arranged for after getting in touch with an NGO. 

Calling up a priest associated with the temple, Anindita had requested for a sacred thread that Anurag would be required to wear during the shradh ceremony, upon discovering that her brother had conveniently stopped donning the same as he had in India, from his left shoulder, across his torso. Apurba had been utterly displeased with her son's act which she regarded as his silent deviation and detachment from his roots. Upon some deceitful explaining and cajoling about temples and Indian stores being too far from where they lived, did Apurba return to her passive self. Anindita had remained tight-lipped, keeping the fact that every American city had Indian stores and temples, and even local cultural associations, and that 'detaching oneself from their roots' was a choice, never a compulsion. 

Despite them living under the same roof after so many years, Anindita and Anurag were yet to sort out all their differences. There was little communication between them, most words exchanged were strictly limited to casual inquiries, the kids, and Apurba's health alongside the arrangements for Agastya's impending prayer meet. 

Standing at the corner of her room, clad in a plain, pale blue sari, Anindita was absorbed in thoughts. Although she hadn't admitted it to anyone, she was currently battling financial constraints. The exorbitantly high bills at the hospital, her frequent cut short trips from abroad owing to Apurba and Agastya's health condition, and now the prayer meet, and almost a fortnight of being on leave without piloting a single flight, she was totally living on her savings. 

It was essential for her to get back to work, to commence flying to receive a paycheck. 

Hearing someone knock on her door, Anindita sighed bringing herself back from her thoughts as she unlatched the door, allowing Anurag to enter. 

"Sis, I forgot my cell phone on your bed," Anurag said, entering the room as he buttoned his sleeve. Pausing to look at his sister, he was pleasantly surprised to see her donning a sari. 

"Sis, you are wearing a sari," he stated. "I haven't seen you wearing one in..."

"Since it happened, dada, "Anindita completed for him, smiling weakly. "Is everyone ready to go to Juhu?"

Anurag nodded in affirmative, mulling over a few unasked questions that troubled him. 

"You can ask what you have on your mind," Anindita said, picking Anurag's phone off her bed, holding it up for him to take. 

"Why sis?" he asked, his eyes meeting his sister's hollow ones, hurt momentarily flashing in his eyes as he regarded her burnt, grafted skin, reminded of the bitter incidence that had jeopardized everything. "Why did things sour between us? You have always chosen to swiftly cut off ties with me without stalling communication. You never told me what I did! You never voiced your thoughts, your concerns, or your feelings. Can silence be the answer, Anindita?"

Anindita kept her silence, concealing her shock at Anurag's confrontational outburst.

"Answer me, bonu," Anurag insisted, his patience wearing thin at Anindita's quietude.

"It is because I wanted to get my mind and heart off every expectation," she replied coolly, her gaze unwavering. "Least of all from you. I didn't want to be dependant on you, neither financially nor emotionally."

Her brother's expression was stoic, unaffected. The two siblings had their own vulnerabilities, but long years of growing in tough terrain had shaped them to conceal their feelings. 

Anindita continued, "You left us, dada. You simply walked away when all of us here needed you the most! What did you expect from me? I wasn't in a state to take things into my stride then, yet you didn't blink an eye before leaving, moving several thousands of miles away, leaving all of us here to fend for ourselves! I did not do anything exceptional by attempting to cut off ties with you, I merely catalysed what you and your actions had already initiated."

"I- you knew that I had been planning to shift to America, sis," Anurag justified. "I wasn't in a position to deny the job offer abroad. I couldn't just refuse my job there and risk losing my damned job! You need to understand as a professional woman, Anindita. I had no idea what would happen in the future. I had to do what I did. Admit it Anindita, given what had happened, it was important for me to keep earning."

Anindita's eyebrows were raised, her arms crossed as she heeded Anurag, his words falling on absolute deaf ears. She waited for him to finish before she continued, "Is it? I agree as a professional that it was definitely not advisable for you to refuse the job offer and that it would be utter foolishness to let such a wonderful opportunity pass, but then, the sister in me loathes your decision of deserting me and our parents."

"I didn't," Anurag began, interrupting, only to be shushed by his sister.

"Let me finish, Dada," she said, quietly. "You left us, for the sake of what? You are saying that you left India for better pay and options, but why is it then that your sister had to work night shifts at a call center for two entire years?"

Anurag was quiet. Geetanjali and he had both tried saving up more money that could be sent to India, but with her expecting their first child in a new country, all by themselves, it had been tough. A certain amount had been sent to India every month to Agastya's account, but Anindita had to work nights and Apurba had to sweat off all day at her school to make the two ends meet. There had been Aparajita and Anindita's college fees to pay, and Agastya's medical bills along with general expenses of the household. While the amount Anurag sent each month had been enough to pay a clear majority of the household expenses, there had been a lot that they had to work for. 

"Dada, I know that it wasn't possible for you both to take care of all our expenses, especially not when I was old enough to take up responsibilities, and with Aryaman coming, it was next to impossible for you to do more than what you were doing for us, but couldn't you remain in touch with us?" Anindita asked Anurag, the question rhetorical. "The job offer I had received during our campus placements was revoked after what happened with me since the employers had been unsure of my mental state. I tried approaching other companies, but they were not willing to take me in, at least then. Eventually, fed up of more and more people from the corporate world disregarding me, my abilities, and my merit, I decided to give flying a try since it was closely related to where my expertise lies, and also because I felt done with my engineering degree. It couldn't even land me a job or a position with a 9 point something CGPA!"

Hearing nothing from her brother, Anindita continued to voice the years of suppressed emotions and frustration, "You didn't even know what was happening with us, dada, but Ma, I, and Baba managed, at least grateful for the flat you had left. We had a roof over our heads, till..."

Anurag couldn't meet his sister's eyes. There had been a point in his life in America during which his old bank accounts had been frozen owing to an investigation for embezzlement at the company he worked with. He had known all along that the EMI for the home loan had not been deducted from his account as it had been supposed to. His name being listed as a blacklister and defaulter at the bank had become inevitable, but he had not bothered calling anyone home to inform them of the same, his hesitation born from fear of judgment. 

"You could have informed me, Dada," Anindita continued, ignoring Anurag's changing expressions. "I would have arranged for another accommodation for us, but you didn't! Why? Those recovery agents and goons barged inside our home, and kicked us out! Baba was paralysed post the stroke! A bed-ridden man along with his acid attack survivor daughter, and suffering wife who had been struggling to make both ends meet had been thrown out of your flat! The neighbors were staring at us, and no one bothered to offer help. I felt so grateful that our younger cousin wasn't home to witness our humiliation and undergo that trauma. I had to admit Baba at the government hospital, insinuating that he needed emergency medicines and a bed. Ma had to sleep on the floor, in the hospital, beside Baba's bed for an entire week, before I could arrange for the tenants in our old room at the chawl to vacate. It wasn't easy, dada."

Anurag could sense Anindita's voice cracking as she recounted the several hardships that had immediately followed his transfer to Chicago. 

"I didn't want to maintain ties with you because after going through what we did, I lost every ounce of trust that I had once placed in you. Fuck courtesy!" she exclaimed, her eyes glossy. "You were my elder brother, someone who I associated with security, safety; home. The same brother who had asked me to return home on time every day, the man who would stay up all night till I came home safely, the one who held my hand while crossing the street, literally had me thrown onto the streets."

"I am sorry," Anurag whispered, his eyes mirroring his regret and sorry conscience. "I am sorry. Please don't hate me."

Anindita smiled, shaking her head, "I told you before, I can never hate you. As for your apology," she continued, her expressions hardening. "I am gracious enough to forgive, but I am not great enough to forget."

Stupefied, Anurag could only gape at his sister's dismissing words. Their relations had been broken beyond repair. Even if they tried, the relation they had once shared would simply remain fond memories.

"I am sorry for being cold with you all these years," Anindita said, her words measured. "But when I look back, I realise that the frigidity between us cannot be thawed. I am willing to begin afresh with you, to reconcile, for the sake of what we shared, for Ma, and our father's memory, but I am not sure if we can ever be the same."

Anurag let his tears flow, years of concealed emotions and unspoken, bitterly true words sending his thoughts spiraling. He opened his mouth to speak, but his larynx failed to produce any sound. 

Anindita silently, lifted her hand to brush away the tears from her brother's face. She knew what Anurag had done hadn't been completely under control, perhaps even circumstantial, and not deliberate, but old scars that didn't heal often returned to give you pain that lasts a lifetime. Perhaps that was what had been destined to happen.

Sighing, Anindita wrapped her arms around her brother's torso, the ragged skin of her face brushing against the linen of his shirt as she allowed her rage and agony to dissipate in the form of tears. The two siblings stood there, both of them holding each other comfortingly after years, silently reconciling, forgiving each other's mistakes, and forgoing each catastrophe that had sent their relation into gradual imperil. 

"I needed you then, elder brother," Anindita whispered, pulling away from him, her eyes hollow. "I needed you to trust me. I just want you to know now that no matter what mental state I was in, I would have never hurt or harmed your child. I wish you would have believed that."

...

To be continued...

Published on: 18th June 2021

Author's note:

Hi there! I am back after several months. Thank you for being there. 

I hope you are safe, and I hope this chapter compensates for the long months of waiting.

I am sorry for that :-(
I sincerely pray and hope that you and your family are doing well, and are healthy. Do take care of yourselves, and do drop in your thoughts and comments. 

Stay safe!!!!

I know this is a tough phase, but all we can do is hope and believe, and be patient. This is just a phase. It shall pass.

Love and strength.

P.S. Please do vote, comment, and share if Anindita's story reaches you and your heart. Please do share your thoughts, truthfully. I am always open to constructive criticism and am really grateful to you if you are reading this.

P.P.S. Please do stay safe. Wishing you good health and well-being. <3