Chitra was praying hard. Stranded in Strand Road, Kolkata, just before the Howrah Bridge, she was in panic. It was already 3.15 and in half an hour, Saraighat Express, her train to Guwahati will leave the station. She looked at her watch, and out of the window umpteen times, “ Dada ektu taratari, train miss hoe jabe to…” The driver of the yellow and black ambassador taxi was generously trying his best, maneuvering the vehicle in all possible directions. Chitra sat with bated breath hoping to make it in time. This journey was important. But, amidst all the humdrum, she managed to clasp the novel in her hand that she started reading just last night. Her finger cum bookmark was doing its job with finesse. She looked at the novel just like a beggar looks at food. Wanting to read, and savour. But, it was not the time to bury herself into ‘Namesake’ by Jhumpa Lahiri, yet.

Thanks to the driver dada, Chitra finally managed to board her train some nano seconds before it rumbled out of the station. She was still gasping for breath as she tried to tuck her luggage in the little space that was left by her fellow passengers. ‘Namesake’ was put down carefully. “Ekta cha deben dada,” she screamed at the pantry guy, only to be scornfully looked at by an old woman sitting besides her. Chitra scanned her neighborhood for the day, and finally settled on a journey that held boundless promises this time. She was after all going to meet him, and that was good enough a reason to fill her with an array of emotions, some of which she was yet to discover and relish.

Turning pages and looking out of the window intermittently, she was in a way traveling back and forth in time. On one hand, while she was discovering Ashima and Ashoke, on the other, her mind was wandering in Guwahati, contemplating how this new chapter of her life was going to unfold the very next day. Dusk beckoned, and the next few hours Chitra Lahiri wrapped herself with ‘Namesake’, in a way seeing her future, and dreaming of a blissful life.

Sun rays straight on her face, was not the way her day began daily. A nature lover, she woke up to the earthy greenery of countryside Assam with the novel clutched to her breasts. The train was speeding towards its destination, and Chitra was perhaps refreshing the reminiscences of the place she had spent almost all her vacations. The bamboo house, cow dung cakes, the coconut trees, oily smell of the lanterns and her daily rides to the bank of Brahamaputra river, were few memories that got ingrained in every cell of her body. She loved Guwahati beyond words could ever express.

Chitra was greeted with oodles of hugs and kisses at Guwahati station, and then boundless pampering back home. Her cousins were all ready for the function in the evening. And, her mother and aunts were leaving no stone unturned to make this alliance work. The boy was one of her uncle’s son, whom Chitra met as an acquaintance during her vacations. Ashu, as she remembers him was a couple of years older, and now, was unanimously vouched to be best suited for her. Chitra accepted the coveted recommendation with slight reluctance. Her Baba promised though, nothing against her nod, ever.

It was time, and the lady was decked elegantly in her mom’s saree. With minimalistic touch of kohl, lipstick, and a pair of silver danglers, Chitra looked her best. As the time neared, she stood in trepidation. Chitra again sat with ‘Namesake’ to divert herself from the ongoing madness. By this time, she was almost in love with Ashoke Ganguli, and loved what she managed to read, stealing time and place amidst all the hullabaloo.

Ashu arrived with his accomplices. They were greeted with ‘ullu’ (an auspicious sound made by tongue) and shankho (divine conch). After some initial pleasantries, Chitra was called in. The young, vivacious and confident assistant professor of comparative literature was nervous, like never before. She stepped slowly towards the drawing room, where everyone seated. Chitra looked down to her feet, her silver anklets were drawing attention, she knew. “Aye ma aye,” her kaku said. Chitra slowly looked up…her kholed black eyes scanned up in anticipation - brown socks, black trouser, white striped shirt, a heavy watch peeping through the full sleeves, thin mustache, sharp nose, black frame glasses and neatly parted hair – Chitra Lahiri stood dumbfound. Combing her thoughts, absorbed she jabbered, “ Ashoke Ganguli!” Her kaku quickly quipped with an elated grin, “Ya ya, Ashoke Ganguli, you remember his name. I thought you only knew his daak naam, Ashu. He is now Prof. Ashoke Ganguli, teaching in United states.” Chitra froze.

For Chitra, the next few hours passed in haze and hallucination. She was completely muddled by the string of coincidences that knocked her out of the blue. What happened after that, what she spoke, what he spoke, how she behaved, nothing registered in her senses. At night, she went to bed with only these lines and two Ashoke Gangulis in her mind….

“…he was slightly plump, scholarly looking but still youthful, with black thick framed glasses and a sharp, prominent nose. A neatly trimmed mustache connected to the beard that covered only his chin lent him an elegant, vaguely aristocratic air. He wore brown socks and brown trousers and a green and white striped shirt and was staring glumly at his knees.”

The morning after, Chitra’s father inquired calmly, “Will you marry Ashoke my dear ?” Chitra gathered herself and replied, “Hain, Baba.” Mr. Lahiri continued with a smile, “Chitra, tell me one reason that helped you decide this?”

Chitra looked into his eyes and said, “‘Namesake’, Baba!”

Now, Chitra had one more piece to mull over- Why Baba left with a mysterious smile?