The Lost Melody

At that time we were in love, Anonyo and I. I was a student of the faculty of Engineering while Anonyo was studying Comparative Literature at the University. It was a matter of wonder for other boys of my department that, how I fell in love with Anonyo- a simpleton and a student of the Arts faculty. We had first met each other in a University fest.

The first feelings of tender love spread like a rapid forest fire in the two young minds and affected our hearts like a pestilence. We became emotionally attached to one another instead of being attracted by mere physical charms. We shared aesthetic philosophies and literature that interested me to a greater extent. Soon we left our too earthly university campus and fled to the premises of Nandan, which was a refuge for intellectuals in Kolkata.

During those years, Nandan not only led a way to nourish the thoughts of cine lovers, but it was also a paradise for young couples. We used to stay there every evening till night, sitting together hand in hand. Anonyo could recite well and I was a spellbound listener of his recitals. Anonyo’s elocution in an elegant style used to create ripples in my heart. Not only I liked those recitals, but also those moments would carry me to a world of fantasy where there were no rooms for common people excepting us and of course poems.

When Anonyo recited from Sunil Ganguly’s poem “Keu Katha Rakheni”, I used to get lost in a poetic world far away from the realistic one and would think that nobody might keep his words but my Anonyo would never do so- never ever he would desert me.

One monsoon, in a rainy afternoon, we were sitting together at the Nandan premises, Anonyo was holding an umbrella in one hand and he clasped my hand with the other. Rains have an unsaid connection with love. We were sitting silently, enjoying the momentary pleasures of the time. Suddenly, we spotted a naked beggar woman standing in a corner, getting wet in the rain. The torrential rain had restricted the movements of many people and some of them were standing in the shades and were occasionally casting lusty glances at the naked body of the beggar woman.

Anonyo commented, “After all it’s a free stage show, nobody wants to leave that piece of meat.”

I was horrified at his comments and I replied, “Anonyo, I never knew that men could be so mean. How can the starved and wrinkled body of a poor beggar, who is perhaps mentally disbalanced, be an object of desire to the hungry eyes of these men? Oh my God! I can’t even think about it. The very thought makes me sick.”

Anonyo uttered in a harsh voice, “If you have so much sympathy towards her, then why don’t you lend your dress to her?”

Blood started oozing from my heart. I wondered how Anonyo could speak such cruel words. Doesn’t he have any kindness at all? Within a moment, I became impulsive and while throwing away Anonyo’s hand from mine I asked him in rage, “Do you want to see whether I can….?”

Then, without completing my words and not waiting for his reply I ran towards the beggar woman. I could hear Anonyo’s voice at my back, pleading, “Manasi, please don’t get furious with me, I was only joking.”

Other couples were also staring at us trying to sense some trouble brewing from our high-pitched arguments. Without being swayed away by anyone’s comments, I went near the beggar woman and wrapped my long sky blue colored dupatta around her naked body. The mad woman sat there unperturbed. Anonyo was watching from behind, he shouted, “I love you Manasi”.

I was taken aback by shame for my impulsive action and while I returned to Anonyo I blushed like a red apple. Anonyo took my hand in his, pressed it and said, “ Manasi, what you’ve done is indeed an overwhelming act. I’ll buy you a dupatta immediately. Look, how you’ve covered the shame of the poor mad beggar. Oh, really you are great.”

I murmured “Anonyo from today, let’s call her Aakashi”.

From then onwards, whenever we went to Nandan, we saw Aakashi, quite regularly, sitting in a corner, with the sky-blue colored dupatta wrapped around her body. Our focus of interest shifted to her and we started observing her activities. We discovered that Aakashi was fond of wearing jewelries. She would often collect some flowers and put those on her dirty, matted hair. Sometimes she would be in an excellent mood and would hum tidbits of songs.

One day, Anonyo and I heard her humming “ Dolao, Dolao, Dolao amar hridoy, tomar apon hater doley,” in a perfect accent and tune. At first it was hard to believe what we heard. Then I said to Anonyo, “I think, once she belonged to a cultured family which had a strong musical background. She is facing such a consequence because of her ill-fate.”

I wondered how could such a family desert a woman like her, who perhaps only needed some medical treatment and some care. Later on, we decided to put her in a mental asylum or to hand her over to one of the NGO’s in Kolkata. But everything turned topsy-turvy.

Anonyo got a Ph.D offer in a University in Delhi and went away leaving me behind in Kolkata. The parting was as usual sad and was followed by many promises. During the initial months, the pangs of separation was deeply felt by us, as such we regularly exchanged postal mails and made frequent STD calls. But as days passed the intensity of love started to wane and one fine day, the entire relationship came to a standstill.

Anonyo had married a Delhiite. I was shattered into smithereens, just like the broken pieces of a glass vessel. I refused to believe that, Anonyo has finally not kept his words. It was this Anonyo, who at one point of time told me “Manasi, if I don’t get you, I shall cut myself into pieces.”

And this Anonyo got married to somebody else apart from his Manasi. How futile were those words! And how hideous he was! He never revealed to me that he had another love life in Delhi. I went under a spell of depression for quite a long period as I was in deep agony, for my part it was true love. However, I recovered from the state of shock and tied up the nuptial knot arranged by my father like an obedient girl, after completing my studies and getting a decent job.

At present, I am the mother of Surochita- my daughter. I’ve got married since four years. My husband, who is a techy by profession, works in California- both of us are working there. We have come to Kolkata, in the winter holidays to visit our parents.

One evening, Purnendu told me, “Mon, what about watching a movie at the French Film Festival going on at Nandan?”

On hearing these ominous words my heart started pounding and I shrank in fear. Though Purnendu knew about my pre-marital love affair but he knew nothing about our rendezvous in the Nandan premises. Besides, I’ve heard that old flames never die. They flourish again if nurtured. What’s the use of digging up the past which has become nothing but a bitter-sweet memory? I questioned myself and as I felt no inner urge to visit that place, I replied, “No dear, I don’t want to go there among the huge crowd, we can go to some other places.”

But Purnendu refused to give up easily. He earnestly wished to watch a movie with his wife at Nandan as it was a place of heritage in Kolkata. He pestered a lot and finally as I had no other alternatives, I decided to go there in the evening, but every moment my inner self echoed in my ears, “ Don’t go there Manasi, you will be in trouble”.

The movie was able to wash out all the gloom and despair residing in my mind. As we were coming out of the complex, my three year old daughter told, “Mama, please, I wanna go near the fountain.”

She wanted to go near the lighted fountain. Purnendu said, “Mon, you take her near it; I’ll be joining you after having a fag.”

I went near the fountain with my daughter. Slowly, I started visualizing the past and slipped into the university days- those days with Anonyo. I was almost in a haze. Anonyo’s recitals started reverberating into my ears; it seemed to me as if, we two were sitting together holding hands together. My daughter broke the spell, “Mama, look that beggar is calling you.”

I stepped into reality, looked up and saw a naked beggar woman standing near me. I fished out a ten-rupee note, hastily from my purse and while I was handing it to her, I heard her humming, “Dolao, Dolao, Dolao amar hridoy, tomar apon hater doley”. I refused to believe my ears. My heart started to beat heavily, I was about to collapse. She was Aakashi. I was unable to check the tears bursting out from my eyes.

Surochita asked me, “Why are you crying mummy? Who’s that beggar?”

Wiping away the water droplets from my eyes I replied, “My dear, she is Aakashi”. Then I deliberately steered away from the topic and said to her, “Let’s go somewhere else honey, this place is so stuffy.” Finishing the words I moved towards the jhalmuri- man with Surochita, clasping her hand tightly.

Purnendu searched for us in all the probable places but failed to locate us as we were lost in the crowd. I was still weeping, forgetting the present moment and was fumbling, “Aakashi, she is our Aakashi”.

Finally, Purnendu managed to find us near the tea stall and in a very angry tone, said, “Oh, I was searching you like hell and you two are standing here for nothing. Even I called you up in your mobile and you didn’t bother to answer……….” He was about to add something more but stopped as he looked at my red and swollen eyes. He asked softly, “What happened, darling, are you not feeling well?”

Rubbing my eyes once more I started moving towards the car, I was searching my hanky desperately from my handbag just managed to reply “You won’t understand. Come, let’s go back.”

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