Probal could never muster enough courage to express his feelings for Dharitri. Both had spent five long years as classmates in Kirori Mal College, studying English. They had been very close friends and both felt out of sorts, if either was absent on a particular day. During the summer holidays and winter breaks, they would always keep in touch, meeting at least once a week.  Time flew as all good times do.

After college, Probal was picked up as a reporter by The Statesman and after the initial internship at Delhi was posted to Meghalaya.  Dharitri went to the railway station to see him off. When the train pulled out her eyes were moist. They had vowed to write to each other frequently. Probal seemed visibly tentative with his parting comment. He waved his hand as the train moved, saying “I actually wanted to tell you something. I will write to you.”

It left Dharitri feeling curiously incomplete!

After Probal left, Dharitri went off for a brief visit to her cousins in California, USA, where her uncle had settled. She cut it short when she recieved imperious summons from her father to return to India. Her father Animesh Tarafdar, a bureaucrat, had found an excellent marital alliance for Dharitri.  Animesh held the position of a senior officer in the Ministry of Finance and was reputed for his quick decisions and executing them with equal speed and impunity. Knowing well her father’s impatience, Dharitri took a flight, within three days of his summons, to return home. All through her flight, she ruminated about father’s decision. The one thought that kept circling in her mind was, “He seems to be in a rush.”

At the IGI airport, Dharitri emerged, pushing the luggage trolley, trying to locate her brother in the crowd. Eventually she could see her brother Ayan. She was curious to see that he was accompanied by a young man, whom she had never seen. He was dark, slightly taller than Ayan and exuded some kind of nonchalance, which was difficult to put in words. Ayan introduced him,

“Didi, this is Apratimda. He has come from Mumbai and is staying with us for a while. He will take you home in a taxi. I have to rush to college now.” And Ayan left without waiting for Dharitri’s response.

Face to face with a stranger, who had come to receive her, she felt little awkward. Apratim probably sensed it and said, “Hello, I am Apratim Sanyal, Shall we go? “

Dharitri looked at him, uncertain for a moment, and then concurred, “Yeah! Let us ….”.

They proceeded towards the row of taxis lined up outside. On the way home they did not talk much except when Dhariti queried whether Apratim had ever been to Delhi earlier. Apratim had replied that he had taken his undergraduate degree in History from the Delhi University. Subsequently, he moved to Mumbai for his management course. He added that this was his first visit to Delhi since his college days.

Back home, Dharitri met the rest of Apratim’s family. His parents were also house guests. It was already time for lunch and Anila; the whole timer had laid the table. Dharitri noticed special dishes had been prepared. The guests were being pampered. After lunch Dharitri excused herself for a nap to get rid of her jet lag. Her room had been tidied and aired, thanks to Anila di. She remembered what a mess she had left the room, when she flew off to America, three months back!

She noticed a manila envelope was waiting for her on her table. She picked it up. Her name and address was neatly written on it. She almost felt that utmost care had been taken to write her name. She immediately tore open the envelope.

‘A letter from Probal’ she sighed contentedly. She almost read it out loudly ……

Dear Dharitri……

It has been more than two months since I have come here and I have been missing you. I never knew it would be so difficult to live without seeing you.

My job is great. I go to the remote areas of Meghalaya and write stories for the editorial team. I travel out of Shillong every third day, come back to write my stories and again go off. It is hectic but very satisfying.

While I travel my thoughts keep revolving around the incidents of our gorgeous five years together and that keeps me going. During my solitary hours of travel, I have realized that I had wanted to tell you something. But I have always hesitated. Today I have decided to unburden myself.

You know I never had a family.  I mean a father, mother, a sister or a brother, and a home, as everyone else. Of course, I did have Father Pinto. When I started growing up, Father had disclosed to me that my parents had died in a car accident, but I had miraculously survived. Father Pinto was at the accident site and took me in, a five-year old then. My relations in Burdwan were informed about my parent’s demise and me. My father’s cousin travelled all the way to Delhi to complete the formalities. But it became quite clear from his attitude that the family was not very keen to take on the responsibility of an infant.

Father Pinto took over. He brought me into his church, took care of me, and put me through school and college. All I have today are a few photographs of my parents and some books that they had possessed. Father had given them to me, when I started college. Father had also told me a few things about my parents. I penned them down in my diary. When I read them I try to reach out to those two people whom I have never known; but without whom I would not have existed.  May be, I will tell you about them some other day.

Father took good care of me and taught me to be an honest, upright human being. In school, I used to be quiet and reticent. I just could not open up with anyone. Inside me, I always felt that I belonged to a different human breed- those who do not have a family! I avoided talking to people. I didn’t want them to find out that I was different! I felt miserable and lonely, but could not tell Father my troubles. He was a busy man with his church duties and social work.

So I grew up as a quiet child studying my books, keeping to myself, and often brooding. The festivals were the times I dreaded the most. I had no body to celebrate with or share my joyful moments. I used to sit in the church annexe and think some day I would have a family. There were times that I would pen down my feelings in my diary, then revise them and then again rewrite. You will probably be able to understand my feelings having observed me closely for some years. But all those five years I was unable to tell you about my loneliness. I was too jittery and didn’t feel it was prudent to tell people that I didn’t own a family. There was something else that I couldn’t articulate to you. That, it was in you I found a sense of belonging, the feel of a family.

All those years I kept hoping that you also felt the same way about me. And that one day you may come out with it-- what I wanted to say all along. And when that happened, I just had to nod in affirmation. I kept on hoping and hoping but nothing like that ever happened. Don’t get me wrong. I am not complaining. Possibly you are also my type, a person who is shy--who cannot express or declare the innermost feelings. But then you have a family! Then why couldn’t you?

I could not express my desire all those years, but today I am in hurry to tell you everything. Please Dharitri, will you be my family? If you can, please write to me. If you cannot, please do not write, I will understand. I will go on living without a family, drawing sustenance from the memories of those days….

Yours Probal

She had barely finished reading Probal’s letter, when her father entered the room. Sitting down next to her, he asked, “Did you like the Apratim? He is a nice guy, works in the Public Relations Department of the Templeton Industries at Mumbai. The family is quite accomplished and known to one of my associates in Mumbai. Apratim is their only son.”

Dharitri was too full of emotion to speak. She had to still take in the contents of the letter. She pleaded, “Baba! Please give me some time.”

Animesh babu looked at Dharitri’s face. She seemed confused and tired. He said, “Okay, make up your mind. Apratim leaves for Mumbai with his parents, day after tomorrow. They had come here with the intention to finalise the alliance. I did promise to confirm it before their departure.” Animesh walked out of the room, pondering what seemed to be troubling Dharitri.

Alone, Dharitri felt helpless. She looked up at her Maa’s photograph. She wished Maa was there to help her understand herself. She had passed away when Dharitri was taking her secondary school examinations after fighting a prolonged battle with cervical cancer. She had died a day after her birthday in 1985. Dharitri recalled her composure during her grim fight and her dignity. She had remarked once during her last days, “When everything around you is falling apart, think only of the value of your own existence…..” Father had never shown any emotion after her death. He just led a stoic existence, working even harder and longer. He provided Dharitri and brother with all their needs but became more and more silent. Dharitri knew it was impossible to talk to Baba about Probal. She also knew that if she did not, Probal would never have a family. Totally bemused she lay down hiding her face in the pillow.

In the evening after tea, all the parents went out to look around in the local market. Apratim and Dhaitri were alone in the drawing room. Apratim spoke out without mincing words. “You know why we are here. But it is imperative that I know your mind regarding this matter”.

Dharitri was impressed by the straight talk. She agreed, “Yes we do need to talk” 

They walked out of the room onto the veranda, climbed down the few steps to the green lawns of the Government accommodation.

Silently as they walked side by side, looked at each other a few times, but no one spoke. Eventually Apratim broke the silence.

“Tell me Dharitri, what is keeping you silent?”

“You have a family, don’t you?” Dhartri retorted.

“Yes I do. But why do you ask that?”

“You know when I came back to Delhi there was nothing on my mind. I was almost inclined to go along with my father’s decision.”

“Then what has happened in this few hours? Is there anything wrong with me, my family? Apratim asked anxiously.

“No! No, not at all! I don’t even know you. I am sorry. … This is my problem; I didn’t know my mind rather my heart till a few hours ago. ”

Apratim looked at her intently and said “Tell me what is going on inside you. May be I can help.”

“Can you?” Dhartri looked up in astonishment.

“Yes, tell me. Talk to me”

“Actually Apratim, if I say yes to this alliance somebody, somewhere, will never ever have a family. You see, he never had a family.”

Dharitri covered her face in despair. After a while, she sat down on the green grass and hesitantly related everything. All those five years and the contents of the letter she had received a while ago.

As she fell silent there was a lull. Then Apratim looked into Dharitri’s eyes and asked softly, “Do you know your mind now? Do you love Probal?”

There was something in Apratim’s words which made Dhartri kneel on the grass and look up at the clear sky repeating, “I do! I do! I did not know my mind. I am sorry, Apratim.”

Apratim sat down besides her and held her hands in his. All he said was, “Come, let us both give Probal a family. Look our parents have returned. Let us announce our decision to them.”

Apratim started walking back to the house and Dharitri quietly followed.