A Dilemma

The cool breeze impregnating the window curtain for some time was delivered into Subhra's dishevelled hair. She came to the window to peep out at the jamun tree all draped in perfect green. The word “perfect” plundered her tranquillity reminding her of Kishan and their last scary argument that severed their connection. The purple sky in the west added to the sullenness. 

As she gazed, she observed the ashen tree trunk yielding to a woodpecker's rapid tapping. It was unusual and absurd, but fearing the perfection of the jamun tree might be at stake terrified Subhra. Drenched in sweat she rushed to a closet, and rummaged through her dresses to drag out a red velvet suit—her first gift from Kishan. It was wonderfully perfect like the Jamun tree minutes before. She rushed out of the house into the garden and wrapped the dress around the tress' trunk as a cushioned shield, wishing she could arm herself as easily against the ravages of time. But she was more vulnerable.

She jerked open her eyes moist with tears. The train's wheels were making a rhythmic song, and the engine’s panting added to the orchestral movement. She pinned her gaze through the window on the flying vista. She dabbed the rolling tears with her handkerchief. 

Unzipping her leather handbag she fished out a book, “Falling on Love Again”. She was fond of Ruskin Bond, and Kishan knew it as he used to know about her dormant wishes to get drenched in the rain, chase butterflies or simply bask in the mellowing summer sun. She had woven her dreams around him. Subhra sighed as the memory brought fresh infliction. 

As Subhra flipped open the cover, a handwritten note was visible. She had read those words over a dozen times in the last three hours during her train journey, and the words, “Please forgive me and come back”, had been engraved in her heart. She closed her foggy eyes to recall.

It was the final year of a college fest, and the auditorium was vibrating with the twists of hands and waist of ecstatic students. There came the shock when Subhra spied Kishan on an intimate gesture with Saloni, the heart-throb of most of the boys in the college. 

They were about to kiss when Subhra released a shriek, “Kishan, what the hell are you doing with this bitch?”

Subhra could have slapped him to put some physical effort to his ire, but a profound contempt restrained her. Tears squeezed out of her eyes as she shivered in disgust. 

“Listen to me, Subhra”, Kishan implored.

“What to listen to now? How can you be unfaithful to me?”

“I can't stay with you because...”

“Because what, Kishan?” Subhra asked.

“Because...because I love Saloni”, Kishan uttered meekly.

Subhra stole a glance at Saloni standing afar with her hands folded close to her breast. She seemed indifferent to the crisis, which in turn augmented Subhra's indignation.

“How can you do this with me?”

Kishan stood silently drilling the ground with his downcast eyes.

Subhra shuddered with the loud message tone of his phone while Kishan's last words “I love Saloni” resonated in her memory like a hammer. She unpinned another sigh from the depth of her heart as she looked at the lighted screen of the phone that reflected Kishan's name and the message, “Waiting for your reply...We will reunite at Mussoorie”, followed by a small red heart. Her eyes reflected her dilemma. 

The other passengers sitting opposite her must have noticed Subhra's confused demeanour, but they had no way to speculate the reason behind it. 

A moment later, she took out another book from inside her bag, “From Russia with Love”. A restrained smile slipped out of her pursed lips, as she stared at the glossy, red-lettered ‘Love’. She leaned back in her seat and shut her eyelids tightly. 

Memory wielded her yarn again, reminding her...

“We need to get your father to the hospital immediately. He’s still breathing. Let’s go. Why are you tarrying?” Vinod had asked Subhra who was trembling while she held her father’s blood-smeared head on her lap. A moment ago she had been screaming for help, but now words were stuck in her vocal cord.

“Madam...are you alright?” came a query from a male passenger in his mid-forties, who was sitting opposite her in the train compartment.

Another vibrating message tone intruded Subhra's numbed consciousness. She glanced at the screen peeking out of her fingerhold. It was Kishan again with another message. Unwittingly, she read, “I’m dying to meet you. I should have received your call that day. I really didn't know your father had met an accident. I had thought... Really sorry. Forgive me.” This time the message didn't contain any emotional emoji. She didn't feel to text back a reply. She muted the message tone, and closing her eyes again, she leaned back and dived in silence.

The memory came halting and broken as sun rays come out from the cracks of clouds. Vinod's face popped up as she tried to swim along the flow of memory. Their first meeting wasn't romantic at all, rather it was at the moment of crisis. Her father was in the hospital and Vinod, then a stranger, had been trying hard to get a better treatment arranged. Subhra had spent the anxious night in the hospital corridor with Vinod by her, like a sturdy shelter during her moral stress. Vinod left the book, “From Russia With Love”, with Subhra. She got his phone number written above the title. Was it intentional? Subhra didn’t know, but she cherished the tactics.

Opening her dark eyes she faced the window. The sky only seemed static above the running landscape. She held the book pressed against her breast, closer to her heart as if she basking in the warmth radiating from it. 

Women's heart is always vulnerable ground where male warriors, armed with charming qualities, try their luck. Vinod couldn't make a formal heart-warming offer due to his introverted nature. But She could sense how much Vinod was rehearsing to unlock the closet of his heart, providing enough hints now and then with his smiles and gestures. But, Subhra would love to tease him with the pretension of ignorance. 

On reaching Mussoorie, the first thing Subhra decided to do, was to visit Vinod's clinic to make him speechless in surprise. The very thought pulled her eyelids down in coyness. She could have blushed, but miraculously she managed it, as she managed not to fall prey to Kishan's renewed effort to come back into her life.

The train slowly entered the station and passengers gushed out and were strewn all over the platform, jostling with each other while sprinkling the vibration of life on the otherwise lifeless station. Subhra elbowed through the crowd like one walking on charmed steps as she was lost in her own amorous world. She decided on a whim as she got off the Sharabdi at Dehradun that while in Mussoorie, she was not going to bond with Ruskin, with James maybe but definitely not with Ruskin. She suppressed her smile as she personalised Vinod and Kishan with the writer and character of the books stuffed in her bag.

She hailed a car to head for Royal Bengal Hotel set in the scenic lap of the Mussoorie Valley. As she reached the hotel and checked in, she was welcomed with a charming bouquet of roses at the very entrance with a letter clipped to it. She slowly plucked it up and unfolded the content. It read—

“Subhra, welcome to Mussoorie. I need to say you something very special because you are so special a friend of mine. If you agree, please come to the Blue Cafe sharp at 4 p.m. I will be waiting with a surprise for you.

 ---Vinod.”

The phone rang once again but from an unknown number. She knew it was Kishan again trying to reach her through different tricks. She had to choose one now and for good too. She pressed the red button to cut the call.

“Ma’am your luggage.” The room boy in white livery brought her luggage and kept it at the door. Subhra unlocked a grey trolley and took out a blue salwar. The wristwatch showed it was ten past three. She had time enough to get fresh. 

A smile enlivened her face. She knew the phone would ring again. So before taking any chance, she switched off the phone and put it in her handbag. It must be the best signal for Kishan that she was no more available for her. But in the next instant, she thought it wasn't enough punishment for that unfaithful guy. She witched on the phone and typed a text, “It’s over long ago. Don't waste my time. I have got my man.” She knew it wouldn't work because men are not so easily satisfied. Kishan would ask for many explanations. To avoid such irritating outcomes, she switched off the phone again and breathed a sigh of satisfaction. 

Subhra became so impatient that she decided to reach the appointed destination before the time. At 4.15 came the surprise, a staggering and breathtaking one for Subhra. Vinod appeared in a handsome suit, with a lady holding his arm. The smile on his face was never at rest.

“Hi, Subhra, how beautiful you look”, Vinod complimented. 

Subhra puzzled in her expression, said, “Thank you. But who is she?”

“That’s the surprise I said you about.”

Subhra knitted her brows in some dark speculation. 

“Meet my fiancé, Rupali. We are going to marry next month. How was the surprise?” Vinod asked beamingly.

Subhra as if numb in shock, couldn't react for a moment. The surrounding seemed like a single dark sheet that made her blind, and she felt as if she was losing her breath. Vinod and Rupali's faces were blurred before her eyes.