Safety Pin

By Sonali Bhattacharya

A young and independent-minded journalist, Rinky kept hallucinating and saw her Moni Mashi, her aunt, after her sudden death during a vacation in Manali. She plans a solo trip to the place which held more than one mystery associated with her life. She struggles to get over the undefined fear that had settled in her mind over years. She was all alone, but by sheer coincidence, from the world of travel, the young entrepreneur Shekhar, her Safety Pin friend, tags along. The unique individuals drive through the hilly terrains of Himachal Pradesh, unfurling the risky turns of their life with trust and mistrust in each corner. Every turn has a dot that stands fuzzy at first, as the young companions start dabbling in more probing to discover the secrets that are woven together. The mystery gives Rinky and Shekhar a second chance. They set off in search of a destination.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Notion Press
• Release date: Oct 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9789352062683

Book preview

Tea

French Toasts

It was drizzling since dawn. The sun was not visible in the gloomy, rainy sky. The day started like every other ordinary one for Rinky. It was Thursday. It was her mashi , Moni’s birthday. She started for office as usual, driving her sedan from her apartment in the City of Joy. On the road, it was not much of joy as traffic was very chaotic and bullies on the road purposely kept annoying her. This year, her mashi threw a party a day after her birthday. Rinky planned to stay the night at mashi’s place on Friday. The weekend would start a day early. The thought itself was so pleasant that she gave way to an auto rickshaw that was honking for a while behind her car.

It was 11:00 AM. Quite relaxed, Tridip was playing Candy Crush on his tab. Once in a while, the tickling sound was heard. Moni knew Tridip had pushed the jelly beans successfully, someway, somehow. Their two-member family had more than a couple of mobile devices. Moni was proud to say that Tridip was a sportsman. It was American Soccer and Great Indian Chess. Tridip was the nearest Tony Meola and Dibyendu Barua, a combination that Moni was always delighted to have all through her married life. Life changed after her almost-retired husband changed his playground to a digital touch screen. Ever since he bought his iPad, he was simply addicted to the game that needed the lowest IQ, at least according to her. Moni finished dusting the furniture in the living room and moved towards the adjacent visitor’s lobby, when the phone rang.

"Happy Birthday Moni mashi!" Rinky greeted Anjana on the other end. Anjana Lahiri, Rinky’s aunt, more dearly called mashi owing to the relationship, was familiar with her voice on the phone.

What, happy birthday? I was expecting you here at Mohor Kunj, today. Moni said in love-hate tone.

"Mashi, even before Rinky could say, Moni continued, speaking into the receiver of the old black landline phone neatly place by the bedside table in their master bedroom. You are now a big journalist! More successful you become, the lesser you recall your mashi – right?" Moni expected a few of her cousins and friends in the city to join the party she was set to host a day after her 50th birthday. She and her husband, Tridip, came on a vacation from the US. Their son, Dhritiman, was on a business trip to Singapore. His family stayed back in the US and they were all going to miss the grand celebration.

"No, mashi, that’s not the case! I’m taking leave tomorrow for the party! I will be right by you at your breakfast table," Rinky consoled her.

Don’t rush. Drive slowly. What will you prefer to have for breakfast? Don’t say cornflakes! she sounded like a paranoid mother, thinking that Rinky would certainly do something wrong. Over the last five years, Moni had grown very close to Rinky, her niece.

"How about mesho? I will go with his choice," Rinky played it safe. She carefully pulled in the man about whom her Moni mashi can talk for hours. There was always a list of complaints spiced with love. Mashi and mesho knows the recipe of a great relationship. They were the most romantic couple in Rinky’s world. They complemented each other like the black and white boxes on a chess board.

Tridip, as usual, was cuddling his side pillow! Moni started. Rinky had heard this story many times over. She knew that mesho treasured the half-sleep state, each morning on the bed. He refused to get up. She knew exactly how Moni mashi with all her unexpressed grudges covered him with the crumpled blanket, encouraging him to sleep more. "Lazy pig, he kept sleeping. Dhriti called to wish me from Singapore. We had a loud chat when he got up. He was very embarrassed, being late. You know, Rinky, how much I love my lazy pig! He fills my life with all these small moments in plenty."

Love oozed out of her voice. They sincerely minted love. Rinky was almost 30. She had a few flings and even ran away from being married once. She kept wondering what her life held for her. She wanted to hold onto Riju, compromising here and there. After seven years of their relationship, she sensed a hole in the bond. One evening by the Ganges, the relationship fell apart and she insisted to put off her marriage, which was awaiting just a few rituals before they could start for a honeymoon. Instinct, at times, is faster than instant coffee. She just did it, breaking off, asking for no second opinion.

Moni mashi paused. After two seconds’ of silence, she continued with a heavier voice. It must have been around dawn today, Moni inhaled deeply and said, "I dreamed of Pinky. I saw her distinctly. Before we could speak, my eyes flew open. I lay on the bed, and closed my eyes once more. She never came back. I kept waiting till I heard the morning Azaan being called out from the mosque!" Rinky heard the vacuum in Moni’s voice. She had to escape these depressive vibes of mashi’s. Rinky let some time pass and said softly, "Mashi I have a meeting to attend now. My boss is waiting for me."

Being the wife of a corporate top notch for years, Moni knew how important these words were. In no time, Moni infused some artificial energy in her voice, to offset the pain. Hey Rinky, is your boss old or young? Moni asked her, sounding like a teenager.

To lighten the mood, Rinky lovingly said, "Mashi you are incorrigible! First, I am old. Second, so is my boss!"

"Wow! What a status! When you come, I want to see him on Facebook!" Moni chided lovingly. Rinky realised with each passing year that mashi was growing in terms of her knowledge of the digital world.

Much to her relief, Rinky giggled and remarked, "Mashi, my boss isn’t on my friends’ list! Now I’m getting late!" Saying so, she hung up. Her inbox showed an alert for a meeting invite in the next 15 minutes. She pulled the blinds on the window and kept an eye on the busy road from the eighth floor of the old commercial complex. The building hosted a dozen offices. One of it was the media house that Rinky worked for. She enjoyed a dedicated office for herself. Her professional growth says the passage to that cosy room was fast, but she took the stairs to rise up the ladder. There was no elevator.

The first shower of early monsoon, the continuous hazy skies fuelled her soul to be unmindful. It was a syndrome since her childhood days. It was five years ago, that the situation became serious and she rushed to Apollo with her mother for an emergency admission. It was a coincidence that Moni mashi was in Kolkata on her yearly vacation then. She had come to the hospital to meet an old-time neighbour who suffered from cancer. They bumped into each other. It was a delight by accident. Rinky was disturbed, but Moni saw an uncanny resemblance of her younger sister in the beauty of the young lady she had dashed into.

She waited in the visitor’s lounge for her. The rest was quite like a movie. The sisters met almost after 25 years of being apart. Moni and Mithi cried inconsolably in the confined space of a cabin in the hospital. Mithi had lost her speech, but her eyes still spoke. She finally mustered enough energy to survive beyond the chemotherapy. It was just a year since that meeting. Mithi died with the bliss from having met her sister, and forgetting intense anguish from Rinky’s act of calling off her wedding just two weeks before it was to happen.

Moni visited India twice that year. Tridip joined her in the second visit, which was initially meant for a wedding, but turned out to be a visit for a funeral.

On her last day, Moni was by Mithi’s side. Rinky had been prepared for the worst, for long by then. She withstood all that could have gone wrong. She swallowed her stress and reflected all the energy she could. One has to torture self to reach that perfection.

Mesho once said, Don’t be so hard on yourselves. Being human is not wrong!

The day Mithi died, leaving Rinky behind all alone, her neighbours and some distant relatives from her father’s side added to Moni’s concern. Some said that the world was not that good, that men would eye her. Others said that her office colleagues would take her on a ride. A few surmised that her ex-beau may return to take advantage of her. Rinky was independent in thought and action, and was too outgoing for the neighbourhood she lived in. Someone even told Moni this.

Moni had asked Tridip to work out possibilities for Rinky’s immigration to the US with them. Tridip would have tried, but Rinky was firm that she would stay in the city and continue her job in the media. She had few responsibilities, then. But the wheel of luck keeps moving, and as she climbed up the rungs in her career, her neighbourhood changed. She had money that mattered enough to earn her that unchallenged freedom. She always had a choice. In one corner of her mind, there lived a moral police that poked its nose only when it sniffed emotions being in disarray. The meeting alert box popped up once more.

Moni and her lazy pig celebrated the day ordinarily. Haradhan had cooked prawn curry after a long time. The day passed by with a few more phone calls and good wishes.

"Tridip, I have some long pending work. When we are back from Shimla, will have to consult Bhabotosh to see how Rinky can get a share of this house," Moni said. Bhabotosh was their family lawyer in Kolkata.

You are not selling it now? Tridip was always practical.

There is nothing between now and then. It is but a hollow. If something happens suddenly, this property, by law, would be yours and Dhriti’s. I want to know how I can give a part of it to Rinky.

Moni, let’s discuss this on another day. Tridip was low. Such topics usually left him depressed.

You always shy away from things that are inevitable. I don’t know how you managed your company!

Who knows, Moni? You many stay back to deal with all these legal matter after I am gone! Tridip turned the sentiment otherwise. This was how they prepared each other for a lonely journey, not knowing who would outstay the other in the train of life. They had a train full of friends, of course, but it was just that Moni and Tridip had shared two chairs side by side for 30 long years.

Then, I will get into a messy home up there! Better let me go first so that we can get a good one for the both of us! Moni smiled, deviating from the topic. Tridip smiled and said, Little do we know how He has planned things for us! Sitting on the sofa, being partners for years, they had their philosophical journey together, and talked about it until it turned practical.

I am scared, Moni, to live a life without you. Tridip looked serious.

It is true, Tridip. The thought of the other way around is equally terrible. I wonder what Rinky must have gone through in her life. A father who she had never seen, a widowed mother who never opened up, and then went away so prematurely - Rinky has gone through a lot. Mithi was two years younger to me. It is going to be five years since she passed away. She stopped pushing her head against the artificial support of her hands held behind her head in a criss-cross manner and kept gazing at the carpet on the floor.

I agree, Moni. Not sure where she keeps her pain. But her smile suggests that she wants to thrive in life.

Yes. This house owes her a lot that was robbed from her for no reason. I want to correct it. Do fix an appointment with Bhabotosh, at least we need to speak and find out what the laws say. They are far more complex than we think.

They had their medicines and went to sleep.

Something that never fails, regardless of how one may have spent the night, is the dawn that promises another day ahead. It was a bright sky for a change. The Morning Glory blossomed, just below the window ledge from Moni’s bedroom on the ground floor. It was ready to bloom and open up its petals.

Moni flipped the dates on the desk calendar which had only dates, and no year. It was a gift for the two sisters from their baba, Sridhar Ghoshal, when Moni turned sixteen. It had a saying for each date. He was a king-sized personality, and each part of the house had his blessings. It reflected the elegance that he stood for. He was used to it, and his tolerance to everything beyond the fine boundaries of all things that were beautiful were challenged. Time waited in the fancy wall clocks of Mohor Kunj to witness all of it.

The double-storied Mohor Kunj in Salt Lake City was decorated traditionally. Ecstatic emotion flowed through the house. Moni was heard in all corners of the house. After a long time, the house was hosting a lot of activity. The catering company was setting up their kitchen in the lawn in the backyard of the house to prepare lunch and dinner for the day. Tridip was in charge of facilitating all of it. This was his in-laws’ house. After Sridhar Ghoshal, his father-in-law, had passed away, this property was handed over to Moni according to her father’s will.

Moni wanted to share the property with Mithi on legal grounds. When they met after years of separation, she brought it up, but Rinky’s mother, Chandana Sen refused. Mithi was once Chandana Ghoshal. She got married to Amal Sen when she was still a minor. Their marriage left a bitter taste in many minds. The initial phase of their married life was kept in the dark. Rumours and suppositions precede the minds of the masses. Mithi never opened up. Rinky dared not infringe the black box that Mithi protected with all her power. That was the sole, guarded secret that her mother had never shared with her, despite the fact that Rinky was the apple of her eye till the day she died.

In the last few years, Moni gave Rinky abundant place in her life, giving her a chance to meet many new faces who were either family or friends. In their interaction, parts of the missing truth bubbled up in some form or the other, here and there. It was hard to say if all was truth. The most reliable ones were all that Moni shared. Rinky had joined some of the dots and some remained missing. She never showed interest in allowing some of these story tellers to paint the wrong picture of either of her parents. Some tried to make her think the wrong way. Over time, she identified a few hypocrites who huddled in the house parties that Moni hosted in Mohor Kunj. This year, the party was expected to bring home more guests.

Rinky parked her Honda Amaze outside the boundary walls of Mohor Kunj and stepped out of her car. In an embroidered lemon yellow salwar kameez, she reflected a slice of her energy. Her stunning designer sunglasses kept her eyes protected. She pulled out the backpack and locked the car carefully. Mohor Kunj stood as testimony to a decision that her mother had taken that had led to a crisis in her own life. Her mother had tried to make up for it, but this one choice of hers pushed her down the slope of social acceptance. Rinky was the only person who had been with Mithi during this tough phase. Rinky had no choice either. Her mother battled and recovered considerably, but not completely. She died with a few unshared memories. Rinky longed to get closer to those reserved compartments of her mother’s life. The mystery turned into ashes, but haunted her time and again.

Moni held her sister’s hands when she was counting her last few hours. Mithi, you are fortunate to have a daughter like Rinky. God is never partial. He gave you the asset that you would need the most. Moni had a fortune to flaunt, a loving husband to be envied, a budding grandson to take the family reins forward - but she was unfortunate to have had to let go of her only daughter Pinky, for her to rest in peace forever at a tender age of 20. The long race of win and loss among siblings never ends till the end.

Rinky was not sure if she was an asset for anyone. But, these days, her company projected Sukanya Sen as the face of the company in real estate publications. She was known to all leading real estate groups, prominent promoters, renowned and new builders in the city and some beyond. They kept great peer relations with her for getting right media coverage. In the early days, she had gone in for spot surveys at construction sites. She interviewed builders, sellers and buyers. She never gave any property fair in her city a miss. She saw new faces, new families – small and big, simple and complex, relaxed and ambitious, LIGs and HIGs. She understood how each prospect had a different dream to fulfil, how each builder’s project had a unique feeling to offer and how different were the causes as to why families sold off their houses. She was the editor of a real estate magazine that had a growing subscription base with market accolades.

No wonder why Moni showed so much interest in Rinky’s work. Many of her stories were unique stories. Strangely and continuously, society finds a way to compartmentalize. First home or second home, single or joint ownership, stay or invest - many a classification made a real difference. Over time, touching brick and mortar made her feel like sensing flesh and blood.

Moni felt that her niece was so committed to this lifeless square feet business that she often missed feeling the pulse of life gushing with promises for her. Whenever she got an opportunity to ignite the fire, she kept nudging Rinky. Find the right guy, get married and settle! Every time, Rinky ignored her.

Moni was still in her soft floral print house coat. She got a tight hug from her niece with belated birthday wishes early in the morning. The newspaper boy threw the bundled printed pages while they were still standing on the veranda beyond the portico. Rinky picked it up and stepped into Mohor Kunj, holding onto Moni’s hands warmly. The usual bonhomie followed and Moni left for the kitchen. Rinky skimmed the newspaper when Tridip stepped in.

Good morning and warm welcome! A lively elderly gentleman in an orange coloured comfortable cotton-striped short kurta and a milk white pyjama entered the dining room.

"How are you mesho?" Rinky asked spontaneously.

Heard that you now have a handsome boss and duly forgot me.

"O mesho, no more! Must be Moni mashi."

Listen, mesho started, Love is one thing that falls your way when you least expect it. It is important to go through the journey and you should be thankful to the person for whom you have gone through the experience. The rest is destiny, don’t try wining over it!

Moni mashi said from the kitchen, Rinky, you meet so many men every day and work with some too. Don’t you like any?

These were the moments that Rinky desperately looked for respite.

Actually no one likes me, Rinky said.

Mesho took it seriously and said, Rinky today let us have a session on romance.

Rinky looked into mesho’s expressive eyes sternly. She had experienced such sessions in the past and the content turned grossly adult. She enjoyed, but not always. You can keep rolling your eyes, but you sincerely need my prescription. Tridip was serious. He was the closest that Rinky had been with a father-like figure. He was one among a few men that she never felt insecure around. Rinky went to the kitchen, pretending to help mashi. The chimney was vibrating and digesting the volume of the voices in the dining room.

Moni soaked a thick slice of white bread in a mixture of half a dozen beaten eggs with milk and cinnamon. Smoothly, she left it in the hot oil in the non-stick frying pan. She turned it on its back with a wooden spatula, and loudly said, Rinky is very romantic. She even volunteers to help folks in love!

Rinky could not help laughing. Mashi continued. Tridip, did I ever share with you the long story of her friend, Mili?

Oh, no! What’s that? Let’s hear!

With hot golden brown pieces of French toasts served with butter on a large ceramic plate and a cup of maple syrup on the side, Moni stepped out of the kitchen. Rinky picked up the fancy pot and started spreading pepper on the toasts randomly, as her mashi continued spilling sugar and spice deeds from her teenage days.

Mithi worked in Durgapur, those days. In her neighbourhood, Rinky had a junior who was an adult before her age. What class where you in, Rinky?

Biting a sauce-smudged piece of French toast, Rinky said, I had just given my first board exam.

Just imagine. Mili, her friend was two years junior.

"Mashi, you have an elephant’s memory."

In some wedding, she met a guy who was studying engineering in JU. Love at first sight. They must have been exchanging phone calls and letters. I remember his name was Deep. He got through in the GRE. That’s what Rinky knows. Rinky, why don’t you share the next? Moni passed on the baton.

"Nothing much.