 |
| Sutanuka Ghosh Roy |
The
train slowly gathered speed, Raka glued her eyes to the dark glass of her
window she could see the moving station, but she could not see her parents any
more. Outside it was sultry as usual with the weather in Kolkata. It was early
December. The AC inside made her feel relaxed. One or two porters were juggling
in and out of the compartment. The plump Ticket Checker chewing paan appeared from nowhere. He wore a
suspicious look as he checked their tickets. The smell of paan masala spread like wild fire through the compartment. Raka
gathered herself and looked at Rudra. He was busy with his phone. They got two
lower berths and two sturdy gentlemen had already occupied the upper seats.
They were busy taking out all sorts of tiffin boxes from their bags. One bespectacled
elderly woman wearing a maroon sari occupied the side lower berth and a young
boy wearing a round neck blue T-shirt occupied the upper side berth seat. They
too were busy half way in finishing off their dinner. The fusion of the smell
of paan and different kinds of food
created a strange rancid odour.
Raka
was a tad nervous. She had never travelled without her parents. Her middle
class conservative parents had never allowed her to travel alone. Marriage brought
a change. She could feel a sweet wave of dreams enveloping her entire being.
It was 10.30 pm. They had an early dinner at home. Without
wasting any further time Rudra started spreading out the bedsheets on the
seats. He did it meticulously. Within a fortnight Raka understood that Rudra
avoided clutter. He loved things spick and span. She looked at her husband in
silent praise. He was quite tall and handsome with curly hair. He preferred to
wear his watch on the right hand. Having done with his task Rudra drank water
and then offered her bottle. She gulped the water at a go then cleansed her
face with wet wipes and put some cold cream on her face, called her parents
spoke with her mom-in-law and made an effort to sleep.
Early
dawn Rudra put his hand on her forehead the warm touch made her awake. “Get up
quickly we will reach within twenty minutes”. Some other passengers too were
busy in arranging themselves and their luggage. The whole compartment became
alive with loud sounds. Raka’s heart became racy. She got up quickly combed her
hair and took her handbag. The train came to a halt. They reached Balugaon station.
“Raka come”, Rudra held out his hand standing on the platform. Raka faltered
and smartly disembarked on the lap of Rudra. Soon a potbellied man with a white
cap, crisped grey trousers and a sweaty off-white shirt spotted Rudra. “Are you
Rudra Babu coming from Kolkata? This is Bhabhi I suppose?” “I am Chandan” Rudra
nodded and showed him his card, within a second he took their luggage in his
hand and made his way through the passengers. They followed him and came out of
the platform. Rudra was tightlipped about their next destination. Raka had
asked him a few times but each time Rudra avoided putting her off by his
signature smile. As they boarded the car the potbellied man took the driver’s
seat, folded his paunch neatly right below the steering wheel. The window-glass
was not rolled up. Raka flowed with the wind which was rather cool. She was dazed
with the scurrying activities and sat close to Rudra. The wind caressed her
soft tresses. Time was timeless. They drove for almost two hours. All through
the journey the driver hardly spoke a word or two. The azure blue sky the greenery,
the chirping birds made her forget the outside world. The car now left the tar road and entered a
narrow kuccha road soon a fishy smell entered her nostrils. Rudra clutched her
fingers “Raka look this is Chilka”, we are in Rambha.
“Chilka
is India’s largest inland lake. Spread over more than thousand square
kilometers stretching across the length of the three districts of Puri, Khurdha
and Ganjam and finally conflates at the Bay of Bengal through its narrow mouth,
forming an enormous lagoon of brackish water. You know Raka, Chilka is dotted
with many emerald green islands with exciting names which you will love to hear
such as Honeymoon Island and Breakfast Island! It is home to a rich variety of
aquatic fauna. It is also a sanctuary and winter resort for migratory birds, some
coming from as far as Siberia. ‘S-i-b-e-r-i-a…’ Raka’s eyes were wide
open. Chilka contains a large variety of
fish the pear shaped lake provides a livelihood to thousands of fisherman. Stay
for a day you will notice hundreds of boats sailing out daily on the lake’s
blue expanse in search of mackerel, prawn and crabs. And if you travel by
country boat the sight will provide you an insight into the pageant of rural
India at its colourful best.
You
will be glad to find Chilka is encircled by hills all along its arched shape
shores, the colour of the lake changes with passing clouds and the shifting sun.
Since you love both the mountains and sea I chose this this beautiful place” Rudra’s
voice was warm. Her eyes met the vast expanse of water she was mesmerized by
the natural pristine beauty. They spotted few purple moon hen and grey herons and
egrets gliding over the water. “Raka look that is a spoonbill and the bird
sitting next to that country boat is a white Ibis” For a moment Raka was lost
in her own world. In her mind she could not but thank Rudra for this pleasant
surprise. The driver took out the luggage from the car and headed towards the
porch of the hotel “Avalon”. From the outside the hotel looked like a
fourteenth century stony fortress. It had a typical gothic structure.
Raka
had goosebumps she muttered “Avalon” “A-v-a-l-o-n”! She felt as if she is “Morgan”
and Rudra “King Arthur”. Are they in the legendary island where people live for
hundred years? Is she “the Lady of the Secret Isle?” He looked closely at
Rudra. Is he the wounded knight? Where is Modred the greatest wizard with whom King
Arthur fought and finally killed him? Will he recover from his mortal wounds as
King Arthur did after the tragic battle of Camlann? “Bhabi” the hotel staff was
ready with the welcome drink. “Raka are you lost? Come let us go to our room
upstairs”. A frail boy with square face hooked nose dead fish eyes wearing a
striped shirt took their luggage upstairs opened their room and welcomed them
to their room. The room number was “thirty three”. The door was intricately
designed but spotted with years of water damage. Instead of a fancy handle it had
only a square shaft of dark cold metal. The room inside was elegantly decorated
with vaulted ceilings and large stained glass windows. A bed poster made of
mahogany was in the middle. A writing table with a reading lamp was placed on
the right corner of the room. A large grey coloured sofa with orange cushions was
on the left side. A dresser with an ottoman and a large teak cupboard occupied one
of its walls. The airy interiors added to its overall charm. A perfect
honeymoon suite! However the room had an uncanny damp stony odour. A large
verandah was overseeing the lake, a pair of limbless lizard slithered in the
garden Rudra spotted a pistachio colored butterfly flapping its wings. The
garden had a rust-iron big swing. The garden, the lake, the swaying Eucalyptus the
tall deodar trees, the butterflies all became a silent party to their love.
“Raka
come on please freshen yourself, feeling hungry” came the quick reminder from
Rudra. Raka stepped inside the bathroom. A big bathtub and a large full size rot
iron mirror immediately caught her attention. Every nook and corner was
decorated with elegance. A Chandelier hung from the middle of the vaulted
ceiling. The yellow warm light mellowed her heart. She looked at herself she
could spot her blush. Oh how lucky she is to have Rudra in her life! He is so
classy! She splashed water on her face. The water tasted a bit salty. She
changed her clothes and slipped into a comfortable burgundy coloured pyjama and
a black T shirt. She pulled her hair and made a messy bun which added cuteness
to her sweet face. Raka chirped, “I am done”. Rudra quickly slipped in and
closed the doors of the bathroom. She now sat in the sofa and looked at the
bed. A sensuous wave traversed her navel and breasts. She looked at the menu
card on the writing table. Rudra stepped out. “Let us go and have breakfast
otherwise I will gobble you up!” Raka frowned like a movie star and then
giggled, a gecko on the wall smiled. They came down the stairs like Siamese
twins.
The
dining area was large and stylishly decorated. Full length sheer curtains
adorned the large windows. One could see the Lake from inside. Sunshine kissed
the stony floor of the room. Breakfast was a delectable fare! Aloo Paratha and
curd along with mango pickles. They almost ate their fingers! Rudra had tea
with milk and sugar Raka had black coffee without sugar. Two other families
were also having their breakfast. A little girl called Parul came straightway
to Raka and asked for a bite of Aloo Paratha. Her mother wearing an embarrassing
smile came running. “Please don’t mind!” By that time Rudra took her in his
arms, much to the relief of her mother. The little child didn’t know how to
react. Hunger satiated they came out and stood on the porch,
the cool air was laced with the fishy smell coming from the huge water body.
The sun smiled. “Raka come on! Let us go for a ride!” Rudra had already spotted
two three country boats with tourists on them. Raka felt dizzy she was
hydrophobic. “What has happened sweetheart? Are you not well? Okay we will go
tomorrow morning let us retire to our room for the moment may be you are
tired”. Rudra took her in his arms and together they went upstairs.
Raka
sat on the sofa with her eyes closed the fishy smell in her nostrils. Rudra
took her hand in his hands and kissed them. “Raka you must have been exhausted.
You rest. Today we will laze and tomorrow we will hire a country boat early in
the morning”. He took out a magazine from his bag and started going through its
pages. The internet connection was rather weak. Raka was lost in her thoughts.
“Rudra?” “Yes” “Why did they name the hotel Avalon?” Why did they go for a
Gothic structure?” Rudra stopped reading and looked at Raka. “Maybe the owner
liked the name “Avalon”. May be he was influenced by the Gothic structure. It’s
simple”. Raka kept silent but was not satisfied with the answer. “Don’t
overthink close your eyes and take rest” Rudra told her again. “In the evening
we will take a stroll and the fresh air from the lagoon will make you feel
better”. Raka started contemplating this is perhaps for the first time in their
short conjugal life that they are left with themselves. Back at home they were
always encircled by other members of the family. Except at night they could not
speak freely with each other. A drowsy
numbness overcame her senses. A knock on the door made her alert. Rudra opened
the door. The boy with eyes of dead fish was at the door he spoke with a
typical accent. “Babu Lunch is ready, you can join”. “Okay we will join
shortly”. Raka got up from the sofa and came to the verandah. Her eyes were on
the brackish water. It was windy and there were ripples on the water. A few
tourists were still enjoying their boat ride. She felt sorry for Rudra. She
acted as a spoilsport. Maybe tomorrow she will give it a try after all Rudra
will be there with her so there is nothing to worry. Rudra was waiting for her
over Lunch.
Life
was always very boring for Raka. Being the only daughter was an additional
pressure. They lived in North Kolkata in their ancestral home. Both her parents
Rakesh and Sudha were doctors and were ever busy. Her Dadu, grandfather Ramesh was
also a doctor. He is now eighty eight. Thammi, Radha, her grandma is eighty.
Jethu Ratan the elder son of Dadu was a professor of English in a university.
His wife Raka’s Jemma Moni was a teacher of Chemistry in a school in South Kolkata.
They had no issue. Naturally Raka was the apple of eye. Being the only child of
the entire family she was pampered to the core. Dadu was very strict about her
studies her manners her friends. Every move of hers was measured under the
strict supervision of Ramesh babu. Raka practically lived for all of them
except for herself. She wanted freedom. As a child she always wanted to mix
with other children of her locality. She was never allowed to do so for Ramesh
babu thought that would pollute the soul of his only heir. Rakesh and Sudha
were busy with their patients and nursing home. Raka remembers that as a child
she avoided her mother a lot for she smelt like medicines when she came back
from work. She used to sleep with Thammi and Thammi used to tell her stories
each night. Each night she built a new world with the stories.
A sincere student she always topped the list
in exams. Her Dadu wanted her to become a doctor. So did her parents. She
followed the footsteps of her Jethu. She opted for English honours and wanted
to pursue her academic interests. Soon after her graduation her Dadu and her
entire clan became busy to get her married. Raka vehemently opposed but who
bothers and who listens. Soon marriage proposals started flying in like flying
saucers. Each night there was a round table conference where different marriage
proposals were weighed in equilibrium. Dadu would come out with a sigh, “let
her settle in life, it is then that I can die peacefully”. “Dadu am I
unsettled?” Raka one day questioned. Dadu looked at her as if she has just
committed an unpardonable sin. Raka surrendered. Within few months her marriage
was fixed. Rudra according to Dadu was a real gem. A graduate of Ivy League of
colleges he was now heading a team of researchers in USA. He was the nephew of
Dadu’s bosom friend Manimohan Basu.
Rudra’s
family was originally from Howrah now settled in South Kolkata for three generations.
For three generations they served the country. They are all army men. Rudra is
an exception. Raka found them a little weird on their first day of marriage.
Even the eighty year old Didu Rudra’s maternal grandmother came for the
occasion of her only grandson’s marriage. She was decked in a red Benerasi sari
and very heavy jewellery. Laughing and making others laugh. Everyone from
Raka’s family was busy in looking after her. When Raka went to Rudra’s house
she was welcomed with blowing trumpets and loud drums. It was very difficult
for Raka to adjust. Both the families were poles apart. Whereas in Raka’s
family everyone spoke in hushed tones here In Rudra’s family everyone spoke in
high decibels as if they were to make a Limca book entry for making the highest
decibel sound. They would clap and stump their foot at every bend of each
spoken sentence. Laughter was there in every fold of this family. Rudra was the
quieter one. He spoke less but always wore a beaming smile. Rudra’s mother Rumkini
a professional Kathak dancer was a woman of substance. She had a mind of her
own. She took good care of Raka. Rudra’s father retired major general Santosh
Mitra was eternally busy with his family.
Rudra’s
uncles and aunts his brothers and sisters some of them living abroad had come
specially to attend his reception. In a word it was a loving family. Raka was
lucky. She was a bit apprehensive about Rudra but soon she discovered that
Rudra had no frills and was extremely earthy. Though they spoke less but they
had woven an invisible thread between them. Raka felt like a queen in the huge
old fashioned house with green French windows. Some of Raka’s friends had
dissuaded her from marrying Rudra. “How could you share your bed with someone
whom you have never known in your life? Raka you are too old fashioned. Don’t
you have a say in your family? What about your parents they are reputed
doctors? Why do they listen to the old haggard?” Raka would smile and say “this
is my destiny”. “I cannot choose a boy of my choice”. After her marriage Raka
was convinced that her family members took the right decision. Rudra was a perfect gentleman.
On
the first night of their marriage after the reception was over Rudra asked her
in a simple tone “Raka do you love mountains or sea?” “I love both” Raka
replied. “Hmm so you say that you love both.Okay”. Now I have one question Raka
quipped “You have studied in USA in one of the most prestigious college and did
you not have girl friends?” “Of course I had many girlfriends. But unfortunately
or fortunately I did not have a wife. At last at last I have a beautiful wife”.
Rudra had sealed her lips with a passionate kiss. For a fortnight Raka was in a
trance. She could feel all the things happening around her but loomed around
like thin air. Life was a bit different. The same mashed potato which was her
staple food for years now tasted a bit different. Often she used to stand in
front of the mirror to find out whether there was any noticeable change in her
outward appearance. The only difference was the red parting in her black hair.
Other things remained the same. Dadu used to call her often and queried over
all little things. Her parents as usual slipped into their old mode. Only Jethu
used to complain that she has taken away a chunk of his heart along with her.
Rudra
was a quiet boy from childhood. His Baba Retired General Sudhamoy expected his
son to follow his footsteps and join the Indian army. He however showed no
inclinations to do so. He preferred to go for research. This did not go well
with the other family members too. Only his mother Mala supported his son’s decision
to the core. Her entire life was dedicated to her family and she travelled all
over the country with her husband. Rudra lived with his grandparents in
Kolkata. The quiet boy would look at the blue sky and wanted to the touch it.
He would often find the fluffy white clouds intriguing. The Bakul tree at the
backyard of his house spoke to him. The green grass under his feet created a
tingling sensation. He could never share his thoughts with anyone. He would
recite poems of Tagore and Jibananda Das. His teachers at school were
overwhelmed by his potential. He was loved by one and all. The attic was his
favourite place in the big house. Many afternoons he would spend in the attic
crooning a song along with strumming his guitar. At times he would wish to lie
down in his mother’s lap. He missed his mother the most. When he left for USA
Mala was misty eyed she lamented that her life never gave her the opportunity
to be with her son.
It
was a quiet afternoon. The cool wind of pear shaped Chilka was so inviting! Rudra
and Raka took a lazy stroll in the portico of “Avalon”. They were all praise for
the architecture of the hotel. The exaggerated stained glass windows, the
flying buttress, the pointed arches, the grand tall design which swept upwards
with height and grace. The gargoyle is one of the striking characteristics of
“Avalon”, and many gargoyles all over the building included elements of the
grotesque. They had exaggerated, evil features or threatening poses, which leered
down from on-high, these creepy stony structures stuck deep in Raka’s mind. They
seemed to keep a silent watch on their every single move. She had an uncanny feeling.
Slowly they left the porch and headed towards the lake. The vast expanse of the
water was an immediate remedy for her tossed nerves. It had a tranquil effect
on her mind. A fleet of white bellied sea eagles were hovering in the distant
horizon. The graylag geese were busy in their late afternoon discourse. Flamingos
and herons called it a day and were leaving for their respective homes. The
glowing sun, a crisp circle in the red and orange sky, illuminated a quivering
path across the water of Chilka.
The
invariant horizon welcomed them to eternity. They were soaked in the last red
and orange rays of the setting sun. The water too changed its colour and slowly
became dark. Tourists were hanging in and some young lads on bikes were busy in
idle talks. A few stray dogs were looking at them with a question in their
eyes. A small boy came towards them and
smiled. Rudra asked his name. “Kalu” was the pat reply. Raka enquired about his
whereabouts. Kalu told them that he lived in the nearby village. They wanted to
have a taste of village life so eagerly followed him. It was a fifteen minute walk.
The road was full of dust and fallen leaves. The brittleness of the fallen
leaves created a rustling sound as they walked on them. When they reached the
village they saw a small temple of Lord Jagannath. A Pundit was reading from The Ramayana in Odia. Elderly men and
women sat in mats and listened to him in rapt attention. Rudra and Raka took
off their shoes and sat in the mat. It was a different feeling. The silence of
the village laced with the reading sprinkled peace and tranquillity in the
atmosphere. Though they could not understand the language properly but could
pick up familiar names of the characters in Ramayana.
A lone yellow bulb shone inside the temple. Incense sticks were placed near the
deity. Fresh marigold garlands adorned the deity. There was no exhibitionism in
this divine experience. The villagers adopted a simple yet elegant way to
connect the divine. They stayed for an hour and then they headed for “Avalon”.
The quaint village etched in their memory.
“Avalon”
was shining like a lone star. They had their evening tea and coffee along with
onion fritters. They sat in the dinning space for a while. They looked at the evening sky. The moon was a warm milky glow in the sky,
and the sight of it became a song in the eyes of Rudra and Raka they raised
their heads upward. It was a wraith-silver disc hanging in the lonely sky. Beams
of moonlight, as bright as diamond-flame, turned Chilka a-glow like melted platinum.
Rudra broke the silence. “Raka today is full moon. Of course my moon is always
with me. Raka is the other name of moon”. Raka was elated. She felt she is in
heaven. Rudra sat between two moons now and watched Raka’s breath
rise as new white-puffed clouds. Night
had finally befallen them, wrapping the day in its dark blanket. “Auntie” Parul
came and all of sudden started hanging from Raka’s shoulders. She was startled.
“Parul my child how are you doing? Where
had you been the entire day?” “We went to see the Bedfast itand”. Rudra started
laughing. Parul’s mother corrected her. “Breakfast Island my darling!” “No no please don’t steal
away her innocent language from her mouth”, protested Raka. “Let her remain a
child. Nowadays there is hardly any childhood left for the children”. “You will
be a good mother. Plan early for a child” Parul’s mother retorted back. Raka
blushed. Rudra’s eyes changed their language. The moon rose to its glorious
beauty.
Dinner was delicious. Laccha Paratha, channa
dal, bhuna chicken and rasgulla. “Rudra if we stay more than a week over here I
will be a mini elephant I’m telling you”.Raka complained. “And I will become a
hippo”. Rudra answered. Their laughter rolled over all the spaces. They were
feeling quite heavy after the dinner so they decided to take a stroll around
“Avalon”. “Raka see there is a kind of spooky feeling in a moonlight stroll
quite different from the clarity of the sun light”. Raka was feeling thirsty.
“Rudra let us go to our room I want to have water”. “Okay let us go upstairs”.
Rudra opened the door it moaned as if under an unspoken pain, the same stony odour
entered her nostrils again. She drank water and quenched her thirst. Two cane
chairs were waiting for them in the verandah. The Moon was at its magical best,
trying to make the waters of Chilka shine. A country boat after every few
meters looked like houses in a village at night. Each wrapped in its own self, each
shrouded in a world of its own oblivious to the presence of others. All of
a sudden it seemed to Raka that Chilka is engulfed in a layer of smoke. Now
there can be no fire on the water, is there something wrong with her eyes. She
pointed point it out to Rudra he too felt the same, together they saw the
smoke. It was a surreal experience to see the mist on top of the sea with
moonlight shining through it. The eerie silence had a melody of its own. Rudra
took out his cell phone and started playing “Moonlit Sea” by Michael Brant De
Maria. The fluidity of the music reached the moonlit sky. The native flute
added spirituality to the momentum.
“Raka
please excuse me for five minutes I will quickly go downstairs and come back
with today’s newspaper”. He kept the door ajar. The magical moon waved the delayed
tryst, on a moon-lit lake, in “Avalon.” Raka placed her head over the shoulders
of Rudra. Tu-hu-tu-hu tu-tweet-tu-hu –tu-hu –tu-tweet the owl screeched from
the buttress. Raka got scared she clasped the hand of Rudra. The native flute
played on and on. A gecko on the wall of the verandah squeaked. The moonlight
shone on the steel band of Rudra’s watch. His radium watch glowed by night. It
was Two o’clock in the morning. The moon was not silver but a buttermilk glow it
whispered in Raka’s ears to freeze the moment. She was beguiled by its beauty. Her mind was shrouded by a flimsy cobweb. Is
she the “Lady of the Lake who knew all the magic of the world? Can she create
magic in Rudra’s life like
the enchantress Morgan? Can she protect Rudra from all kinds of danger? Is
Rudra the modern King Arthur? Where is his Excalibur? She took Rudra’s hands in
her hands his hands were cold as death. “Rudra are you okay?” Raka stepped into
the room and brought out a black shawl from her suitcase. She wrapped Rudra
with the shawl. Rudra stepped forward and clasped her back and pulled her
towards him. It was a dead embrace. His hands were steely. She was suffocating.
He kissed her lips. It was a cold kiss! There was no warmth. His ice cold
breath made her shudder. Raka was enveloped by an icy sheet all over. Her body
stiffened. Rudra’s entire body, his hands and kiss had the same damp stony
odour. Rudra was a chill in the December air. The cold kiss concealed her lingering desire.
A
sudden gust of cold air from the lake displaced the shawl from Rudra’s body. In
a flicker of a moment Raka saw Rudra’s bare chest - a black pitch line was
coming out like runnels out of molten lava. Raka was clueless. “Was he wounded
like King Arthur?” Raka shrieked in fear “Rudra what has happened? Who wounded
you? Rudra when did this happen? Rudra, Rudra answer me?” Rudra laughed. His rasping
laughter added to the caustic December air that swept the lake, slowly his
laughter sounded like iron nails dragging over the stony surface of “Avalon”.
It rose and fell. He whispered something in Raka’s ears the whisper was like a
soft susurration of the December wind in the tall Deodar trees of the garden.
His words were incoherent and inaudible. His language was the language of the damp
cold stone. His eyes teemed with silver tears that shone brightly in the
moonlight. From the blackness of the room came sounds which no human beings
could ever make. Rudra’s laughter seemed of a human who once was alive but
rendered into a spirit contorted with immense pain, anger and hatred. The
native flute played on. The damp stony odour entered the entrails of her body. Two
icy steely hands came over her throat. “Avalon” was hidden in the shimmer of mist,
diffused.
Dr Sutanuka Ghosh Roy is Assistant Professor and Head Department of English in Tarakeswar Degree College, The University of Burdwan. She did her doctoral dissertation on Two Eighteen Century British Women Poets: Hannah More and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. She has been teaching at the undergraduate and postgraduate level for twelve years. She is currently engaged in active research and her areas of interest include Eighteenth Century literature, Indian English literature, Canadian Studies, Post-colonial Literature, Australian Studies, Dalit Literature, Gender Studies etc. She has published widely and presented papers at National and International Seminars. She is a regular contributor of research articles and papers to anthologies, national and international journals of repute like The Statesman, Muse India, Lapis lazuli, Setu etc. She is also a reviewer, a poet, a critic and an avid painter.
