He Came to Stay - 9. Chapter 9

NINE
Philosophers often say that we suffer due to our ignorance and desires, but what they forget is that both of these factors are produced and controlled by the situation in which they are produced. In that sense the context in which we acquire ignorance and desires plays a pivotal role in our suffering. We do hardly have any control over such situations. So what they say is true in the main, but where they go wrong is placing the entire onus on the individual who suffers. Your suffering is caused by your own deed—such is their teaching. It, however, may not always be so.

The last time when I saw Avijit was when my aunt paid me a visit and Ishan behaved in a curious manner so as to irritate him. He left my place annoyed and never turned up to show his face again till date, nor even did he give me a call. As Ishan left me I started feeling his absence. When days started turning out to be lengthy lassitude I picked out my mobile phone. I was looking through the ‘missed call list.’ There were two calls from the service provider and one call from an old friend. I checked out for the second time; no interesting calls were there. I threw it back again with a thud on the bed. I was not sure whose call I was waiting for—was it that of Avijit or someone else’s? Still I felt the ardent urge to call up Avijit and I searched out for his number in my mobile phone. Every time I felt depressed, or lonely only one name came up in my mind ‘Avijit.’ But my agitated conceit prevented me from dialing his number. He knew how much I was helpless without him, yet he didn’t bother to contact me. I switched off my mobile phone and decided to chat with unknown people on the net.

No sooner than had I logged in the chat-room, to my utter surprise I got a message and that also from Ishan, which read as ‘Dada, are you online?’ I immediately checked out his profile and found green sign against his ID on, which meant that he was also online. As I logged on in the invisible mode I took time to decide if I should reply. My self-esteem prompted me not to reply as I didn’t consider that as the proper mode of communication on his part. He might have paid me a visit, or should at least ring me over the telephone. But instead he sent an online scrap! I was hurt. Yet his Dada (big brother) inside me couldn’t help replying him, ‘How r u?’ ‘I’m fine’ was the prompt reply. ‘Dada, I need 2 talk to you’ he wrote.
--Please proceed.
--Not in this way.
--Then?
--May I come 2 your place?
This question annoyed me like anything but I preferred keeping the silence. At that moment I was not prepared to answer such an awkward question. ‘Would you feel comfortable if I go to your place tonight?’ he urged. ‘Don’t you have anything serious to say? I have many pending works’ I wrote grudgingly.
--It’s very serious; I need to talk to you right now.
This last sentence contained enough anxiety for me to call him in. Something very serious must have happened to him; not only my brotherly love but also my sense of elderly duty that prompted me to forget everything for that moment and allow him to meet me up. Without any further delay I asked him to come to see me.

I didn’t know whether he was to stay back at night, yet signing out my account I immediately went to the kitchen to prepare dinner for him. He likes chicken. I prepared CHICKEN BUTTER MASALA (spicy butter chicken) and JEERA RICE (rice with cumin) for him. When I was almost done, he knocked on my door ‘You change your dress and in the meantime I’ll finish the cooking for you’ said I opening the door.
--I have to return.
--Still, you return after dinner. I’ll accompany you to your hostel.
--No, thanks! That is not required. I can manage to go myself. When will you be done with your cooking?
--I’m almost done. You wash off your hands and feet, I am coming in a moment.
He went to the toilet and I entered the kitchen again.

His very sight left me worried about what he was going tell me. He is a jovial happy-go-lucky type of guy, whom I had hardly ever seen depressed. I was wondering what made him so gloomy this time. But I was clueless, as for many days I didn’t have any news from him. A little later when I was arranging the dished on the dining table, he sat on a chair at one side of the table. He had hardly had any eye-contact with me since he came, which left me all the more worried. I was keenly noticing all his movements, though there were very few of them.

Having taken nothing since the evening I had a wolf in the stomach and started my dinner immediately, like a gourmet, after serving him. When I looked at him again I found that he was taking nothing, sitting still in the same posture as before. Although all the preparations on the menu were of his choice, they failed to evoke his interest. I got no reply as I urged, ‘you are not taking anything!’ ‘You were about to tell something’ I continued. This time I was fortunate to get the short answer ‘yes.’ Being completely in the darkness I was getting myself for the worst. What made a guy like him so vexed! Otherwise a lighthearted guy he could be concerned about his friends, had they been in trouble, as if he himself was in it. Friends were everything for him, as it is with many youngsters of his age. ‘Is it something that concerns you?’ I inquired and he faintly nodded in confirmation. My heart went pit-a-pat; I was trying hard to give him the impression of being indifferent though. How much I had been successful that God only knows. He was so absorbed in his problem that he didn’t seem to pay attention to my emotions as to how I was reacting to his behavior.

‘Can you give me the number of a gynecologist?’ he asked still fixing his look at his feet.
--What the hell do you need a gynecologist for?
--She is pregnant.
--Who? Manidipa?
--No.
--Then who? Is it your case?
--Yes.
--Who is the girl?
--I can’t tell.
--How many days’ pregnancy is it?
-She told four months.
‘Then you are not sure I suppose. What the hell were you doing all these four months!’ I yelled. Again he was silent just to add up to my vexation.
--Have you seen a doctor?
--No, I thought I should talk to you first and take your advice.
--Do you think that I’m a doctor? Why didn’t you take any precaution or see a doctor earlier? Now when it is almost too late you came to take my ADVICE! God forbid, what would happen if she would make a mistake in counting the dates? Don’t you know that abortion is after 20 weeks’ of pregnancy is risky for the mother and is prohibited by law?
--I didn’t know earlier.

To the best of my power I tried to control my exasperation and searching out the phone number and the address of a Kolkata-based gynecologist, who happens to be a friend of mine, noted it down on a paper, and then handed over to him. He looked at the number keenly and asked ‘is it safe?’
--What is your plan? Are you thinking about going for an abortion?
I knew that the answer was definitely going to be in the affirmative, though he remained silent.
--why didn’t you take any precautions?
--it just happened accidently.

I wanted to know when and how it happened, but somewhere in me I found it going against my dignity. I refrained from asking. Such occurrences are not uncommon among the guys of his age nowadays, especially in metros like Kolkata, but he having been raised in a small town cherishes traditional family values and was also a bit shy when it came to the opposite sex. Still it happened and I wondered how he could keep me in complete darkness for so long. The question was hammering my brain repeatedly: did he bring his mate to my place in my absence? I wanted to wipe it out of my mind as it was giving me a sticky feeling, yet couldn’t get rid of it. The thought kept on haunting me.

I left my dinner half-fed to give him the number and didn’t feel the urge to resume it. He didn’t start his dinner yet as he was sitting since he came in the same posture as a picture in a still frame. I asked him to take his dinner but he didn’t take anything. I insisted him to take his dinner and he unwillingly obliged. I didn’t force feed him much understanding that he wouldn’t have appetite owing to his mental condition.

When the dinner was over I offered him a glass of soft drink and sat beside him. ‘Now I tell you something important, which you need to bear in mind’ I said. He looked at me inquisitively. ‘I don’t want to continue this relationship anymore’ I continued. He said nothing as his eyes were filled up to their brims. I could understand that he was trying to control his emotions, but could hardly succeed. Silence prevailed in the room and the two persons remained as still as wax models. Time passed by though I can’t remember how long we were sitting like that. Ultimately he broke the silence, ‘I’m goin.’ I knew him very well; I knew how he would react to my words, and still this short sentence timidly uttered by him struck my hearing like a thunder from the blue.

I knew that he would be hurt like anything hearing these strong words; I didn’t really want to hurt him, still I said what I said, breaking his tiny heart by doing so. I don’t know why but I felt being humiliated. A brother should not ordinarily feel humiliated knowing such a secret of the life of his younger brother, but it happened so that I felt humiliated. In spite of all my efforts I had been terribly unsuccessful in hiding my anguish caused by my feeling of humiliation arising out of that intricate situation. I wondered if it was the feeling of being dejected that was giving me trouble, but I barely left with any mental strength to think rationally and to arrive at an answer. I felt that I was really harsh to him. Knowing it very well that my reaction would appear odd to him, I desperately tried to rationalize myself, ‘you are here to build up your career. How would I explain to myself and your mother what you did?’ When I asked this question I didn’t really expect an answer from him, not because he won’t share this embarrassing event of his life with me but because I knew that he himself didn’t have any excuse. Knowing it very well that I can’t stay away from him I took the decision of maintaining a distance from him. ‘I’ll never contact you again, though you may call me in whenever you feel to do so or need my help’ I said firmly in a subdued voice, which caused him to burst into tears. He sat obstinately on the chair. I switched off the lights and almost dragged him to my bed and forced him to lay down on it resting his head on my lap. In the darkness of the room I tapped my tears with my palm, but could not veil my emotions from him for long as my choked voice betrayed me. ‘I love you BROTHER! How could you do this to me?’ I whispered while kissing his forehead. He was quiet. Then after a while he said, ‘I’m going to my hostel.’
--Please don’t leave right now. Who knows when I will see you again? I want this moment to be stretched by just another few more minutes. I never asked for anything from you, won’t you do this much for me?
As I said this I shifted his head from my lap to the pillow kept beside me and hugged him tight placing my body as close to his as a brother can do on such an emotional moment. Unexpectedly, this time he hugged me in reciprocation and hid his face in my chest. I kissed him again, on his head, while combing his beautiful long hair with my fingers.

I checked out the time on my mobile phone; it was 10.45 p.m., already too late for him to return to his hostel. ‘Ishan’ I gave him a call to wake him up. As he appeared to be fast asleep I didn’t give him a second call, just laid beside him quietly with my eyes wide open in the darkness. I didn’t expect the goddess of sleep to be blissful that night, as she had always, since I developed a soft corner in my heart for Ishan, behaved with me in a manner that suits only a stepmother. I never complained to anybody against her atrocities to me, but that night I heaved a deep sigh, ‘why this is always with me!’ the night was treacherous, the night was dismal, still throughout that sleepless night perhaps I wished only one thing, that is to save the night in my heart. Still the dawn broke and he took my leave to depart.

(To be continued....)