Its 12 am in the night. McFarlan’s Chief Executive Officer, Mrinal Sen, had just yawned and stretched on the sofa in the drawing room of his sprawling New York apartment when his mobile vibrated. Brows shrunk, he watched the number blink but could not recall to have seen it earlier.

He sat straight responding to the voice at the other end. It was calm but a streak of anger broke through the modulation.

“Yes, I am Mrinal Sen … Yes, Aparna is my wife.”

The man sneezed and took some time to recover from it before speaking again, “I would not have said anything but Aparna needs to know all is over between us. I can’t marry her. She should not keep nagging me.”

“Between you? Marry? What do you mean? And who are you by the way?”

“We were in a relationship.”

“But, she is married.”

“So what? We were involved like a husband and wife.”

Mrinal trembled. In a few moments, beating his racing breath he yelled, “How dare you talk about her this way? Why should I believe you?”

There was a brief silence and then a sound of a deep breath struck the receiver. 

“I have nothing more to add.” The man said in a low voice and then the connection was gone.

Mrinal exhaled. There was something about the silence around him that shot a persistent whistle in his ears and he was suddenly thoughtless. Aparna was not there in the residence. She had gone to stay at her ailing friend’s place during the night. He rang her up but the handset was switched off. His temple throbbed beneath the mushrooming sweat and then, he noticed the flower vase shining in the dim blue light in the room: for the first time it was left empty. Looking over his shoulders he saw Rohan, his thirteen-year-old son, sleeping in the room.  

He wished if he could talk to someone; someone who won’t ask him uncomfortable questions; someone who would just listen to him without interfering and would forget what was told. But there was no one he could recollect who could help him with a patient hearing.

As he leaned on the sofa, his mind recalled those moments when Aparna was urging him to freshen himself as quickly as possible. It happened in the morning when he had just come back from a two-month-long tour. There was an odd hint of cunning in the manner in which she behaved. He was surprised that she did not look at him as she spoke and on his second attempt to understand why she was in such a great hurry, he had observed her struggle to meet his eyes. It was a mere exhibition then that meant nothing to him save a little discomfort. He was too tired to observe further. In any case he never asked her about what she did, where she went, how she spent her spare time, deeming such curiosity akin to distrust.

Touring for long months was part of his job profile which he could not avoid but he always came back within the warm embrace of both Aparna and Rohan. But, in some occasions in the recent past, he had observed the same warmth missing in Aparna, though he found no reason to read much into it. He did observe the change in her but, he had never seen her giving priority to a friend over him; this was for the first time she did so. That she did not give him his medicines in the packets she usually monitored, further blew up in him. It could not have been her forgetfulness; it was a definite drift. He rued that he missed such significant cues the whole day. Since morning he has thought about her again and again, calling her number of times and speaking to her just for the sake of speaking while she was on her way to her friend’s house. She responded as though she was doing it out of compulsion till she told him to stop calling while she was travelling as her mobile had lost almost the entire charge. That moment, as he sat on the sofa, each event that occurred during the day assumed a significance which turned his feeling of being deprived into a feeling of being deserted. Suddenly, he felt as if there was no air in the room and the winter night was grim.

He took a sip from the glass of water on the centre table and leaned back on the sofa again. After a while, as if to regain a part of his self that refused to move, he rose to his feet to walk to the window. He watched the new moon night; the clear sky above looked like a gleaming saucer.

As he was about to toss the phone aside, his eyes caught the number he had responded to. He brought the screen closer to his eyes. It was clear that it was from Connecticut. It was impossible for him to reach from New York before dawn in case he could arrange a meeting with him. Moreover, he could neither take Rohan along with him nor could he leave him alone in the apartment. He decided to call the number back.

“I wish to meet you.” He said in an even tone.

“Good. I am in Connecticut. You can meet me tomorrow in the noon.”

“Can you text me the address?”

“When you reach here, call me. Someone would lead you to me.”

“I will be there.” He said and disconnected the call.

Within the silence that fell as the call ended, he was able to hear the conversation ring in his ears till a few minutes; the voice of the man stuck in his ears like a flickering sensation. He drew a cigarette from the packet but his trembling fingers could not light it. Smashing the cigarette in the ashtray he grasped his hair, leaned on his elbow and closed his eyes, imagining the impending drive through the highway to conquer the unknown.

But, just then, his friend Patel’s text message landed in his phone. He wished to know about his vacationing plans and it made him stand up again. Yes: Patel was a policeman who could help him in some way, he felt assured. But a second later he sat again: Patel would ask the reason behind his expedition and he would have to reveal every bit of the truth. Moreover, without having spoken to Aparna, it made little meaning for him to react. He rang up her number again and having found it switched off, threw the handset on the sofa and walked into the washroom.

While standing erect in the washroom he closed his eyes, feeling the faint convulsion in his body, the weight in his heart and then felt his body loosen slowly, his breathing acquire a normal rhythm. Bending over the basin, he sprinkled water on his face and in that slight comfort, his mind fetched him the first sign that he was now ready to take on the issue head on, shaping an immediate conclusion in him - it could be a hoax; it could be a mystery; it could be a truth but what it could not be was an event to ignore. There was no question of ignoring, for Aparna could indeed be in the hands of a lumpen and she could be in great danger, he thought. But as he stumbled upon different perspectives he was amazed to realise that he had already accepted each word the man had uttered about Aparna, as true. This intuitive assessment stopped his thinking for a moment. It screwed in a feeling of disappointment in his core; disappointment in the acceptance of Aparna as a cheater before he could hear her.

‘What is wrong with me?’ He thought. ‘How can I question her integrity?’ He chided himself, sprinkled more water on his face and neck and came out of the washroom, unable to face the mirror stuck above the basin that he had been looking into.

He felt no reason to wait till Aparna came back so that he could hear her side of the story. Patel’s name hovered in his mind yet again. It would be a very risky connection in case a criminal drove the whole thing, he thought. Stretching his body on the sofa he decided what his next move would be. Patel must be roped in, and then, let to fall by once he was clear of the motive of the caller.

At 7.30 in the morning, Mrinal left Rohan at Patel’s home and accelerated through the highway with Patel seated beside him.

“Yes, tell me Mrinal what is it that you are driving at?” An impatient Patel spoke, running his fingers over his eyes, “You have spoken nothing but you seem to have a serious task at hand. Your face suggests you have not slept the whole night. Tell me what it is.”

Mrinal stole a glance at him.

“Yesterday a phone call came to me in the midnight. Very difficult these days to avoid unsolicited calls you know. A man conveyed that Aparna is in danger. I tried to call her but her mobile is switched off.”

Patel’s voice rose,

“Danger? You should have told me that moment itself. You have lost valuable hours. Anyway, give me that number. Let me see what I can make out of it.” Saying that he called someone at the police headquarters.

And within fifteen minutes the details arrived – the owner of the number was someone by the name Dilip Dasgupta, a former banker who was unemployed at present. He does not have any criminal background except that he had one brush with the law when his girlfriend had complained about physical violence some years back. He was reasonably successful till a year ago.

Mrinal felt lighter. This fellow was not a criminal. But, even if he did not have a record in the past, who knows, he may be the man’s maiden tryst with crime. He caught the steering tight, as he heard Patel speak after a long silence,

“This man is not a criminal all right but you need to be careful. I will engage Sergeant Pompeo and Sergeant Pavlov who would go along with you while I will be at the Headquarters finishing a few important assignments. I would have gone with you but the situation is very difficult for me because of the vacation plans I got approved. I won’t be able to return with you. I will stay back in Connecticut for a couple of days. That won’t matter though. The two sergeants would take care and I will remain connected with them.”

“That would be great.” Mrinal sighed in relief.

The destination came faster than they thought and Mrinal took the two sergeants in his car leaving Patel to the police headquarters. It was noon and the sun was bright. When he rang the number a different voice answered him.

“Come to Link Street. Building no 54A, Ground Floor.” and disconnected the call at once. 

Sergeant Pavlov asked him to park his car on the side and asked all of them to get down.

“We will not go with you. You would take the by-lane just opposite and connect to Link Street. We would follow you but you won’t see us. After you have got into the flat we would knock the door within five minutes and we would get in. If you find no one opening, just send a missed call on my cell.”

Mrinal walked through the narrow lane bisecting the series of buildings and landed on the footpath just on the other side. Opposite to him, he saw the sign board reading ‘Link Street’. A hundred feet walk took him to building number 54A. It was a grey-coloured, three-storeyed building, with a large wooden arch door. He waited for something in him to melt before pulling the bell.

The door opened and there Aparna stood facing him. Neither of them moved nor a sound passed through their lips but in their fallen jaws, in their sudden gasping for breath and in their dilated eyes, surprise gave way to shock and cast a dark smear on their faces. He watched her lower her eyes and for a brief moment, he felt as though he was watching her sink in confession from where retrieval was absurd. Till then he could see nothing but her face, but now he saw her wearing the same light blue night dress he had bought her during one of the anniversaries a couple of years ago. Gently, avoiding any contact with her, Mrinal stepped in without any word.

“I am here.” He raised his voice to the extent he could but no sound or motion greeted him. He walked further in, to the drawing room and then shouted again to the same result. When he turned around he saw Aparna at the verge of the corridor watching him. Mrinal walked closer to her and asked lowering his voice to a whisper,

“Who is this guy who claims to be your lover? Where is he?”

Aparna gulped something through her throat and replied, her voice in faint tremor.

“He has left the apartment very early in the morning today.”

“Leaving you to fend for yourself.” He uttered with a sarcastic smile, “What a lover indeed!”

There was a knock at the door at that moment and Mrinal opened it. The two sergeants stood at the door.

“The flat is empty. The guy fled.” He said.

“Who is that lady?” Pavlov whispered looking over his shoulders into the corridor at the end of which a motionless Aparna stood watching the developments around her.

“She is … I found her alone here.”

Pompeo and Pavlov exchanged a look of surprise.

“You know her?” Pompeo furrowed his eyebrows

“Well… Somewhat. A sort of an acquaintance.” Mrinal shrugged releasing his long stuck breath.

“It would be easy. We can take her in custody and get the details of the man in no time. It would be easy to get to your wife.” Pavlov whispered with a serious face.

“That won’t be needed. She is known to me. She would lead me to my wife. Let us go back. This case is over. I register no complaints.”

“Are you sure?” Pompeo puckered his face.

“Oh yes, let us drop it. She will come along with me. I will drop both of you at the headquarters and move on. I would not be able to meet Patel because I need to rush and reach home before evening. I will talk to him later.”

During the entire travel back home, Mrinal felt Aparna’s silent presence by his side. He spoke not. She spoke nothing either. Stealing a glance at her, he wondered what could she be thinking after what happened over the past few hours? Her stony face was purple, eyes foggy; her breath seemed stuck somewhere within her. Was she breathing at all? But then, he thought, what is it left for her to speak? He did not attempt to break the silence, feeling a sense of relief in the awareness that they were quiet not because they had nothing to share but because they both were fertile with too many thoughts to harvest from. An unknown form of feeling swept through him: neither was it anger nor despair but a surge of impatience gripped his whole consciousness and his heart seemed to acquire more weight with each passing moment. He lighted a cigarette and decided to leave for California as soon as he reached home. ‘I can’t tolerate her face any long’ his mind thrashed something deep in him.

In the evening, after they reached home, and Aparna took to the kitchen, Mrinal sat on the sofa watching the showcase opposite him. The laptop, the mobile, lay on the table. His eyes fell on each of the shelves where his medals, plaques and photographs with dignitaries glittered; each connoted his moment of triumph. But, suddenly those ceased to mean anything to him. In fact, for once he wondered how stupid he was that all these years what he thought was his triumph was in fact his nemesis which drew him away from himself. Nodding his head he stretched his legs on the stool and removed his eyes from those relics of the past to locate where he stood at present. What he saw instead was future and past where he shared his being and there was no room for the present to survive. While his past was well present in the insignias in front of him, the future was where he lived. For the first time in a few years he suddenly felt it necessary that he should take a peg or two of his most favourite whisky. This thought felt like a solution.

But just then Aparna came to the door, “I want a divorce.” She said looking away; her voice deep as if in anger.

Mrinal felt as though he was shaken awake from a deep slumber. He waited for some time to re-hear the words in his mind and said, “If you so feel, I would honour your wish.”

“I want to go to my parents.”

“You have not been stopped for anything till now. Nothing changes after all these. But how many days do you think you would spend there?”

“I plan to go back to them for ever.” She said watching the floor, “Rohan would come along with me.”

“Your parents are old. Why go to them? It may be traumatic for them if they come to know about all these. This apartment is in your name. You should stay with Rohan here. I will move to California.”

Aparna’s face turned towards him in a flash, stopped for a moment glaring at him as if she has lost her words and then her face reddened, but it held no shock; only a look of defiance of the feeble shaped up.

“Don’t pretend you are great or kind or noble Mrinal and show as if you are the least touched by all that you have come to know.” Her lips tightened, her eyes shot back, “It is all your fault that I had fallen for a relationship despite being married. I can’t pretend the way you are capable of. I am not a hypocrite like you. I live life on my own terms.”

Mrinal took a deep breath, shook his head and spoke in a low voice, chewing each word as he delivered those, “It is very important that you keep quiet when you are caught cheating on your husband. If living life in your own terms means heating someone else’s bed, it is a rather curious choice of living.”

Aparna did not remove her eyes from him and when Mrinal watched the swelling tears erase the spite in her eyes, he knew he had made some difference. When she stormed back towards the kitchen, he heard the sound of her feet banging the floor.

During the night, when the room was dark, Mrinal listened to the silence around as if he was listening to it for the first time. Rohan, beside him was sleeping. He had demanded a story telling session a while ago which Mrinal had smilingly honoured. Aparna had not come yet. He felt a strange heaviness in his chest. After a while, when his ears caught the sound of sobbing, he realised he had not noticed Aparna sneak in to the other side of the bed. The sound she made irritated him. It not only intervened in his attempt to sleep, but also triggered unusual thoughts in his mind.

“I will connect you to John tomorrow.” He spoke in the dark, in an even tone, “You can talk to him and file for the divorce. He has built a good reputation as a lawyer.”

He wished to say more but his lips quivered and his heart churned something towards his throat. Before he could understand what it was, a single hot flow of water trickled from his eye and descended to his ear. ‘What an irritation’ he thought rubbing it off with his palm.

Aparna did not reply for some time, but her sobs died down. Soon the room began to feel stuffy. Sleep refused to bless him. He recalled he did not take his medicines over the last two days but he ignored to take those then. In a short while, he gently moved out of the bed, lay on the sofa and texted John to call Aparna the next day.

The next morning, as the sun rose and the milk man pulled the bell, Aparna jumped into her daily chores. Rohan was ready for school. The tea was ready and it was time to wake Mrinal up. Aparna kept the tea cup with biscuits in a tray on the centre table and flung the curtains of the drawing room open, allowing the bright beams of sun to enliven the room.

“Tea is ready.” She threw at him watching him squarely as she strode back to the kitchen.

Her mobile had just received the message from John about his plans to come and meet her during the day. Her lips curled in sarcasm as she wrote back, “Thank you. I am looking to file a divorce. Please, come prepared. We would close it without delay.”

With the text sent she felt a light heart and now it was time for her to turn her attention to Mrinal. She wanted him to know how it was his failure to keep her happy that has made it impossible for her to sense any fulfilment or love in her life. As a human being it was her right to be happy and how miserably has he failed to give her any happiness. If he was so ambitious he should have married a working woman who would remain occupied in her own ambitions bothering little about his long tours and neglect. During the night she had thought through all the points that could help her position her case on a strong footing and get her a quick divorce. But she felt incomplete till she could sting him with her articulation of what she thought about him. This entire thinking helped her to get the perspective she was so desperate to cement – she did nothing wrong and that, all was Mrinal’s fault. She waited for him to wake up so that she can put him in place and smother him under her feet the way that would quieten her heart and bolster her spirits. In her imagination, the very sight of a cowered Mrinal seeking her forgiveness filled her heart with satisfaction and excitement.

She peeped from the kitchen door; he was still sleeping. ‘After this he will get up and ask the tea to be heated up again. This habit …’ she grumbled and walked to the sofa, “Can’t you get up?” she screamed, “Don’t ask me to prepare another cup of tea.”

But Mrinal did not move or respond. Watching him for some time she took a step forward to have a closer look but, in an instant she took a step back. There was something queer in the way he lay. She pounced upon him and took him in both her arms, shaking him with incredible virulence. But his body was cold. His face did not emote. It simply looked peaceful.

When Aparna’s shriek reached far and wide, her tears washed all condolences away, her eyes fell on the empty flower vase. Covering her shoulders with the white Saree, she gently got up and filled it with a bunch of Rajanigandha flower sticks.