A Tale with a Twist

This story is selected as Editor’s Choice

“Hello, could I speak to Shubhankar?”

“Speaking.”

“Guess who it is.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any idea.”

“How could you forget my voice so soon?”

“Do I know you?”

The lady on the other side of the phone giggles.

“Of course, you do and you know me very well.”

Shubhankar, a little exasperated with this hide and seek game can’t hide the frustration in his voice.

“If at least you give me a clue, I can try to remember.”

“Okay, we were college friends. Does it ring a bell?”

“Not really, you’re not the only lady friend I had in my college days.”

“I know, you’re quite a flirtatious boy.”

Once again, the sound of that irritating laughter, Shubhankar muses.

“Any specific instance that might refresh my memory of you?

“Sure. Do you remember one love-struck young girl who had the nerve to propose to you?”

Relieved, Shubhankar replies,

“Now I remember. You should have mentioned this incident in the beginning. How could I forget such an episode? Proposals don’t come to our gender that frequently. So, how are you, Mouri?”

“Mouri? You’ve even forgotten my name?” A whining tone is present in her voice.

“How could I forget your name? I clearly remember, it’s Mouri. Anyway, if it isn’t, what’s your name?”

“Rimi, silly! You can’t even remember the name of one girl who proposed to you?”

Shubhankar keeps quite for a moment, a little flabbergasted. He is hundred percent sure that she is Mouri. But, why is she lying?

“Are you there, Shubhankar?”

He wakes up from his reflection.

“Of course, I am, but you know, what a coincidence! Rimi happens to be my wife’s name. And as far as I remember, Rimi and you were friends, may be not close pals but surely I’d seen you two together so many times. And if both of you have the same name, I’d surely remember that. Don’t you think so?”

“Shubhankar, you must go to a psychiatrist and get your head checked. I never had a friend called Rimi. And if I had, don’t you think, I should be the first one to remember?”

Now, Shubhankar is at a loss. Either he or Mouri—one of them must be out of one’s mind.

He hears a lot of noise on the other side of the phone. And abruptly Mouri hangs up. Not even a good bye or ‘call you later’.

A confused Shubhankar sits on his armchair and takes a plunge in his not so old past. He distinctly remembers the day Mouri came to him and proposed. He remembers the day so well because on that day, he first cast a furtive glance on Rimi, his wife. Although Mouri denies any association, he clearly remembers, Rimi was in her group and all the girls including her were giggling when the brave Mouri embarrassed Shubhankar. He was never an extrovert guy although just now Mouri complimented him on being amorous. He was a bright, good looking student and no wonder women were attracted to him. But he takes no responsibility for this. Shubhankar now recalls how after that incident he couldn’t look at any girl at all without a fear of being mocked at. His friends, however, commented that he should feel proud of what had happened. In fact, some of them even wished to swap their places with Shubhankar’s.

But Shubhankar had no interest in befriending a girl who was too sticky. Yes, that was the term he often used, while describing Mouri, later when he was going out with Rimi. Rimi would smile away his comment. She even admonished him for being too harsh on Mouri. Shubhankar listened but didn’t budge from his evaluation of Mouri. And now after so many years, she calls and pretends to have his wife’s name—everything remains a conundrum. Anyway, he couldn’t care less. He is too busy to be occupied with such frivolous issues. He should wait till his wife comes back from her tour, and he will then discuss it with her.

Rimi and her NGO– in a month at least twenty days she’s out of station; Shubhankar grumbles as though, if Rimi were present today Shubhankar might have avoided this unwanted call. He still believes that she could have answered all the puzzles. In his life, Shubhankar can never ignore the influence of his wife. She is more balanced and level headed than he. Any difficult situation, Rimi has an answer. Oh! How desperately he longs for his wife! But he has to wait for at least a week or so. Meanwhile, he can only hope that there’ll not be any more phone calls to put his life in disarray.

That night Shubhankar has a chat with Rimi on the phone. He refers to the phone call but doesn’t divulge the details. He shouldn’t unnecessarily disturb her. He is a grown up man; he himself must find a way out of this present crisis. But at present he’s too tired to deal with any mystery. He goes to bed and immediately falls asleep. The next morning is Sunday and so, he will get up late.

But not this Sunday; around eight thirty in the morning the ringing telephone wakes him up. And what he has dreaded comes true— the same voice and the same tone.

“Did I wake you up, Shubhankar?” Very sweetly Mouri asks.

“As a matter of fact, you did.” Shubhankar grumpily replies.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. Last night I hung up so abruptly that I thought I might have offended you and that is the reason for such an early call. Please don’t mind.”

“It’s okay, now that I’m wide awake what else do you have to say apart from asking for an apology?”

Shubhankar realises that he has been quite rude to her. But he’s happy; at least from tomorrow there won’t be any more phone call. Even an annoyingly clingy girl like Mouri deserves to have some self-respect.

But no, Mouri belongs to a different genre. She laughs loud at his comment. She doesn’t seem to have minded at all.

“I can see you’re still angry with me for waking you up so early. Never mind, now that you are up and about, let’s have a chat. Last night I thought about this Mouri-Rimi confusion and still couldn’t come to a rational explanation. When did you get married? And how am I supposed to know your wife?”

At this hour, so many years after marriage that he would have to vindicate his conjugal status, to a woman he doesn’t like, Shubhankar probably never imagined. He gives a dispassionate and curt reply.

“I’m sorry if you’ve amnesia but I’m sane and sound. As per my knowledge, I started dating Rimi when we were in our third year and I’m more than certain that you belonged to the same branch as my wife. So, your not knowing her is out of question. And my marriage took place about five years back after we finished our post graduation. May be, you were out of station at that time otherwise you should have got an invitation card.”

Shubhankar feels tired after giving such an elaborate account of his past and his relationship with Rimi. He wants to hang up as abruptly as Mouri did the previous night. But for some reason he doesn’t. He keeps on saying,

“Now I think I’ve convinced you that I’m married to Rimi and frankly I don’t care whether you’re Mouri or Rimi. What’s there in a name after all? I know only one Rimi who happens to be my wife and whom I love very much.”

A sob, on the other side of the phone, and Shubhankar can’t believe his ears.

“How could you ditch me when you promised to be always with me, by my side?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Didn’t you promise to get married to me once we finished our studies?”

Shubhankar cries in despair.

“How could you allege that? I can never be this mean. You ask my wife. In fact, you can ask any of my friends.”

“Why should I go to others when I had such a close relationship with you? I know you better than anyone else.”

Shubhankar keeps quiet, what else can he say?

“Do you remember how besotted you were with my looks? You used to give me so many compliments.”

Shubhankar never thought that she was beautiful. In fact, he always regarded her less than ordinary not only in brain but also in appearance. That’s probably one of the many reasons why he refused her proposal. But today he can’t say that point blank.

“Why are you so quiet, Shubho?”

Hearing this term of endearment that is used only by his wife and very close friends, Shubhankar gets furious. He fumes inside but pretends to be calm and tries to change the topic.

“By the way, where are you calling from? Just after your graduation you left the city and after that no one seems to know your whereabouts. Are you married?”

Shubhankar immediately regrets for mentioning the word marriage. He wants to avoid any unpleasantness but inadvertently he puts himself in a complication he has so carefully tried to evade. He curses himself for being so stupid.

“I’m in Ranchi right now. And how can I get married when I’m still waiting for you?”

The right place for this woman, Shubhankar concludes. He looks at his watch. It’s past ten; he has been chatting with her for more than an hour. That’s it. He has to hang up now otherwise he will be transported to Ranchi too. Shubhankar can’t help smile at his own joke.

“I’m sorry, it’s quite late. I’ve not yet had my breakfast. Will probably see you some day.” And he hopes that the day never comes!

How he hopes not to get any call the next morning. And thankfully he doesn’t get any. Yes, the curt reply has worked. The day passes uneventfully. At about eight in the evening after he comes back home from his office he takes a glass of beer and relaxes. Cring, Cring—the phone in the bedroom makes an irritating noise. Apprehensively, he picks up the phone and fortunately, it’s a man’s voice.

“Could I speak to Mr. Shubhankar Sen?”

“Speaking.”

“I’m Dr. Mukherjee, calling from Ranchi.”

Too many acquaintances in Ranchi, Shubhankar ruminates.

“Do I know you?”

“Not really.”

Thank God. Shubhankar almost speaks it aloud.

“I’m Rimi Sen’s doctor.’

Shubhankar gets irritated by hearing this name again and again that belongs to his wife and wife only. Still he composes himself.

“How may I help you?”

“In a lot of ways.” The doctor seems to have smiled on the other side.

“Please be more specific”, Shabhankar pleads.

“I’m Rimi Sen’s psychiatrist. She came to our asylum about a couple of years back. A friend of mine saw her in a train, absolutely out of balance, while he was coming to meet me here in Ranchi. He brought her to our institute. The very first time I met her, she introduced herself as Rimi ; unfortunately she couldn’t remember any other name. The only thing she kept on saying was that she had eloped with her boyfriend to get married. When I admitted her here, she was living in a world of hallucinations and imagined that she got married in a temple. She even introduced her husband to me, an imaginary character.

With a lot of effort from our side she remembered her husband’s name and, that was Shubhankar. No surname, no address. There was no way we could get in touch with you because we were as much in the dark about your whereabouts as she was. I’ve tried my best for the last two years to give her some semblance of sanity. At present, she can at least remember your full name, the name of your college, your face and things like that. And these pieces of information have helped me track you down. Now, she even knows that you’re not her husband although she still believes that she is Rimi Sen. May be, one day she aspires to be your wife.”

After this long speech, Shubhankar flops onto his bed and asks faintly,

“So, what’s my role in the whole story apart from being dragged along by some crazy lady?”

“Not too much, a little bit of compassion from your side may cure this lady who has been suffering from an imaginary betrayal for such a long time. After all, she loved you and still loves you very much.”

“But what can I do if she imagines the unimaginable? I’ve my wife and I’m very happy with her.”

“I understand; you don’t have to marry anyone. You’ve to pretend to love her and hopefully not for a long period, but till she gets back her sense.”

“Impossible, I’m not an actor. Hire a professional. If you pay well, there are many who would love to do this job.”

“I’m sorry, she distinctly remembers your face; in fact, the other day she showed me a photograph of yours.”

“I think she’s bipolar because her activities and even her talk seem to be quite coherent at times.”

“We, doctors will decide whether she is bipolar or not. My request to you as her doctor is that you should come to our institute and pay her a visit. She might get back her memory just by seeing you. Can’t I expect a little bit of humanity from your side?”

“Are you alleging that I’m being inhuman? From the day I met her she’s brought nothing but misfortune. And now I’m being accused of being cruel! By the way, she is in Ranchi and I’m in Kolkata. How can such a long distance treatment work out?”

“Again, you can leave that to us.” The doctor smilingly replies. “You don’t have to visit her regularly. Twice a month in the beginning and later even once a month will do. A few assuring and kind words from you might change a person’s life. Aren’t you excited?”

“Yes, very much so, sir.” Shubhankar can’t hide the scorn behind his speech. “Give me some time. My wife is away. Let me discuss with her and then I’ll get back to you.”

“Waiting for a positive reply”, the doctor as though signing off a job application adds, “Good night, sorry for being so much trouble.”

“Good night” Shubhankar hangs up the phone and tired goes to bed.

***

 

“Good morning, Mr. Sen, your wife has come to visit you. Don’t you look fresh today? You must have had a good night sleep.”

Shubhankar looks blank at the doctor and also at the lady whom he calls his wife. He looks around, it doesn’t look like his bedroom, so many people are there creating a huge racket. Does he know this place?

“What do you think, doctor? How much longer will it take for my husband to get cured?” Mrs. Rimi Sen enquirers.

“See, Mrs. Sen, your husband will get back his old self as soon as he comes to terms with Mouri’s death. He still blames himself for that mishap; he still thinks that Mouri committed suicide just because he ditched her and married you.” The doctor reassures Mrs. Sen.

__END__