PANDORA’S BOX

Love Short Story – PANDORA’S  BOX
Photo credit: Alvimann from morguefile.com

Tridib opened his Facebook account, after finishing his tutorial papers for the day. He is enjoying his guest lecturership immensely. The students are a brighter lot this year than previous years .

“It’s fun to be the only male in the entire faculty”, Tridib ruminated as he typed in his FB password.

His message box displayed two new messages. One was from his sister, Ruma, wishing him a happy birthday. He had just turned thirty-seven, Tridib reflected. In this nuclear, ‘particular ‘ age of the Higgs Boson, one felt left out in the general euphoria. Whether Satyen Bose really deserved the Nobel Prize during the ‘ God’s particle’’s inception years, remains till date a hot topic of debate in the staff room of his college. The second message was from Santanu.

The latter has asked Tridib to come over to his place one day. Tridib and Santanu, pals since school-going days, haven’t been in touch for long. So it was a pleasant surprise to receive a message from a school buddy. Tridib decided to go to Santanu’s Lake Road residence on the coming Sunday. He disengages himself from his overpowering workload on Sundays, unwinding by either listening to music or watching a classic on his hometheatre.

“There’s a gift from Montreal which arrived a few days back addressed to you but sent to my home address,”

Santanu said after handing Tridib a steaming cup of espresso. Sipping it, the latter said,

“Addressed to me , but sent to you?”

“It’s from Paromita”, revealed Santanu , with sang-froid.

“ Oh!”

Santanu, Tridib and been class-mates at Presidency University ‘ 2001. After her graduation, Paromita decided to settle and forsaking a promising academic career , got married and went to the U.S.

Paromita and Tridib had been an attractive twosome in their college days. The two had been regular participants in all of the inter-college fests of the city. Always wearing ethnic dresses with long, black tresses to flaunt, Paromita used to be the cynosure of discerning eyes. It was Tridib who initiated her to the world of all-time classics . Films like Roshomon, La Dolce Vita, Casablanca , A Streetcar Named Desire – they had seen them together at the Film Festivals of Kolkata, held around the winters each year.

So it was an unprecedented surprise for Tridib to hear from Paromita after so long. He opened the sealed , cardboard-wrapped, rectangular box with as much trepidation as when he had held Paromita’s hand for the first time. The two boxes of Ferrero Rocher chocolates were accompanied by a birthday card and an attached letter from her.

“ Paromita has written after almost a decade”, thought Tridib angrily.

The letter said,

“ Happy Birthday, Tri. It’s good to feel that we age together. Today when I look back, I feel that I had been an utter fool to decide and opt for a family life so soon in life. But family commitments were towering at that point of time. For good ol’ memories sake, please forgive me. I am coming to India soon. I would like to meet you and if possible make an honest decision to stay with you , get married to you and bear you your kids. Hey Tri!! Just kidding . How can I forget the memorable moments that we shared?

To speak to you frankly, I have been divorced for the past couple of years. Would it be too much to ask to lend me a place in your life? Your Facebook page reveals that you remain single still. I could of course , have directly asked you over this modern social contraption, but as you know surprises have always attracted me. Looking forward to your reply. You may find me on FB , and also here’s my attached self –addressed envelope.

Your closest buddy,

Paromita .”

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