Showers And Shudders

By Sreeparna Sengupta

The clank of the Mortar and Pestle mysteriously complemented the light drizzle outside…………

Brishti utterly Dis-Liked the Rains..

Though she knew that her Mother Loved it; Hence she had named her ‘Brishti’.

That day Maa had shared with her one little secret. She was going to get her a little sibling. If it would be a girl she had decided the name too – Dhara .

An absolute pluviophile, Maa would spend hours by her window witnessing the rain drops rejuvenating the earth while humming her favorite chords of a very famous song of the yesteryears.

Her melodious voice dwelled upon every nook and corner of the house, giving it a heavenly touch.

Until a day came when,

She was never heard again!

“Dhara, please go now…help Dimma set the Sherbet glasses on the table… Baba would be arriving anytime soon”

“Yes Di…in a minute..”

Dhara used to be very excited every time Baba came home to meet them. Except a few of the days that he visited home, most of the days he would be at his work location Raghunathpur, a village in Bengal where he was working as a zonal officer in the rural reforms department. Every time that he would visit, Dhara would have the same lingering question  :- 

“Baba, why can’t we stay with you?”

And just like every other time, Prabir would find a new way to convey to her that it was not possible. It pained Brishti each time when Dhara’s face fell to hear the response of her father.

This time it was DurgaPuja; The magical aroma of the ‘Shiuli’ flowers coupled with the ‘Dhak’ beats filled the entire locality that was painted all over again in the hues of celebrating ‘Durgotsav’ this year.

Brishti was focusing. She could not miss her target this time, unlike the earlier occasions. With utmost care, she was grinding the Dhatura leaves with a mortar and pestle.

These were procured to her very secretively by Jhilik didi from her native village. She was their personal caregiver who had always been with them ever since Maa left. Though Jhilik knew that Brishti needed them for her school project, but the real motive was different.

The paste was ready; Brishti carefully put it into a small box and hid the mortar and pestle below her bed. Then she called Dhara, put the box in the pocket of her Pyjamas and explained her what to do.

 “Jhilik…………………..O Jhilik… Did you give Brishti her dinner and medicines?” Kadambari always used to get worked up with cooking and cleaning work whenever her son in law would visit. After losing her only daughter forever, she ensured to care of the family as best as she could. She knew things were no more the same ever since Megha left them.

Not definitely ‘Brishti’. Doctors said she had developed some mental disorder due to the immense trauma she faced at a tender age when her mother died, falling off the verandah on a rainy day.

At times she imagined having a younger sister Dhara, who didn’t exist; She would have existed, had her mother been alive today..Brishti was already in the kitchen as Dimma came in to give a final stir to the “Machher Jhol”; It was a delicious mix of Pabda Machh (catfish), Brinjal, Potatoes and Bori (lentils dumplings) in a light gravy tempered with turmeric and nigella seeds;  Mother prepared this gravy the best and always used to give it a gentle stir so as not to break the dumplings. 

The happy images flashed on to Brishti’s mind and the yearning for a taste of her mother’s food ached her mind and heart, yet again.

“Why have you not slept yet, dear?”

Kadambari feared if Brishti would behave erratic and unpredictable, charging violently at others as she did this a few times before. Some neighbors were also supposed to join them for dinner tonight.

“Dimma. I am missing Maa today” Brishti’s eyes were welled up.

The Sherbet was already served at the dinner table.  The head of the family picked up his usual bronze glass and gulped down its entire content in one go.

 After a few days………………………………………….

Prabir was bed ridden. He was having delusions; To everyone’s shock, he often mentioned Megha seeking forgiveness repeatedly; 

But Brishti knew the exact reason why; She knew it ever since the day Mother left them.

She had seen and heard it all. That day it was raining heavily along with thunders and lightning.

They were fighting, without knowing that Brishti was watching them.Megha was sobbing and cursing and Prabir was shouting; Not to convince or explain his wife, but only to suppress her. She was holding a few pieces of paper. He tried to snatch them from her, but she would not give in. He grabbed her and tried yet again, but she pushed him away and moved into the verandah threatening him to call others in the neighborhood and tell everything.

The downpour was at its peak then. With lightning speed, he charged at her again and amidst the scuffle, she slipped.

No sooner was she lying lifeless in a pool of blood.

Blinded by anxiety and agitation, he hadn’t seen this coming. Immediately, he rushed downstairs.

The pieces of paper had scattered here and there, out of which Brishti was able to grab only one.

That very letter made it clear - The reality of Prabir’s character, his infidelity with the ‘Other Woman’ in his life, whom he had kept under covers since years.

They took her away…amidst the rains…shrouded in a Red bordered White Saree, the one in which she looked most beautiful……

That day Brishti had stood as stoic as ever, witnessing the submergence of her Mother into the rains forever as she held “Her Sister” closest to herself and started building the most resolute and unswerving Motto of her life.

By Sreeparna Sengupta