ARUNASSAM
an e magazine from ASSAM & NAGALAND

AssaM

Sunday Morning ! Maini Mahanta........ A few minutes of extra sleep in a Sunday morning is Mitu’s idea of luxury and comfort. A diligent working spinster driven to city women’s hostel sulks at Makoni, the landlady Anjukhuri’s domestic help, as she hurls a note at snoozing Mitu asking her to report at once with the information she was told to collect about an assumed relation of Anjukhuri’s ebullient-flamboyant-unemployed son with the most appealing hostel boarder Samridhi. The note asks if Mitu got any information, she must report at once to Anjukhuri. ‘You can go now.’- indifferent and annoyed Mitu signals Makoni to leave.

Emotion or a little care never impedes Makoni, she can speak with no feeling. She is a machine; at least Mitu has over the years observed no growth of human propensity in this person called Makoni, except for an ugly stuff of bulging curves beneath an outmoded skirt. The machine like female, not knowing what to say, revolves her body around to leave. ‘Don’t forget to shut the door.’- Mitu yells. Mitu certainly enjoys nearness to Anjukhuri. It is not a formal tenant-owner relationship; Anjukhuri is married to Mitu’s distant relation Amiya Deka, the successful businessman, and that makes the difference. Mitu moved to the hostel after she had found a job in the city, left home, and also found in the hostel owner Anjukhuri a concerned elderly woman who took upon herself the role of Mitu’s guardian away from home. Mitu soon became Anjukhuri’s trustworthy companion. They could be seen together at the downtown market or an exhibition, they share food, exchange gifts; Mitu is truly happy with the landlady-cum-aunt’s affection for her, but she can’t say it is a pleasure all the time for a working spinster. Mitu at times fights with herself to oblige the nagging landlady. Affection borders intrusion, feels Mitu, particularly when she has to forfeit a Sunday for her sake.

Mitu adjourns her bath, instead gets ready to meet Anjukhuri. ‘Relax Anjukhuri, it’s no big deal; I can assure you that your son Partha is a gem of a person, you’re being worried unnecessarily’- Anju rehearses the soothing words she would utter to the perplexed woman. Anju of course has made her best attempts to find out the truth, the real truth. She has been scanning each vehicle there to pick up this hot girl. Anju does not smell any affair involving Anjukhuri’s son with her, yet how could Anjukhuri sense it? Can there be smoke without fire? It was a week before, last Sunday to be precise, when Anjukhuri had stormed into Mitu’s room in the hostel, bolted the door, grabbed Mitu by her arms and whispered that she had come to know from a very, very close associate that a clandestine affair is steaming between Partha- her son, and the most talked about girl in hostel-Samridhi. Anjukhuri’s one well-wisher had divulged the truth.

-‘Are you sure? Can you prove it?’

-‘I have come to you because I can’t prove it. You must help me.’

-‘But is there really anything I can do in this matter?’

-‘You can do it; I mean you can tell me if the report is true, in a week.’

-‘So I am a secret agent now?’

-‘Don’t be silly.'

That was the beginning last Sunday, the seven-day deadline expires today, and Anjukhuri summons Mitu to present her piece. Partha is Anjukhuri’s son, a postgraduate like Mitu, unemployed unlike her, still happy-go-lucky with father’s assets- a song in his lips, fingers clasping the steering-wheel of one of his father’s car, and plunging into world’s joy right after finishing breakfast every morning- at a time when Mitu rushes to her job. Mitu and Partha are in the matching age group, they are friendly, though Mitu spends almost the whole day in a book publishing house to earn the money she would send to her parents. Mitu admits a sporadic spurt of envy for this guy in her vicinity. Well, Anjukhuri said she had not spoken to Partha’s father about this unconfirmed romance saga. Partha’s father Amiya uncle is a solemn man. Anjukhuri hopes to settle the issue before his father becomes furious.

Yes, one cannot ignore that fact Uncle Amiya’s affluence has encouraged a few wedding proposals for this eligible bachelor who may be unemployed or unoccupied. Uncle Amiya’s reputation is definitely at stake when it comes to a romantic or matrimonial alliance with Partha. So Mitu finally wraps her salwar and kamij she was sleeping in with a bright red churny, neatly combs her hair, and leaves her room to meet Anjukhuri. Since she would be taking her lunch at Anjukhuri’s place, Mitu comes to the hostel cook to inform him of this. And there she is- Samridhi. She greets Mitu with a cold, damp gesture. The girl, wonders Mitu for a moment, can be mistaken for a princess and definitely the hell won’t break down if Partha picks her up. Mitu is yet to see the two coming together. Mitu decides she would assure Anjukhuri that her son is not attached to this girl, she should not worry. Mitu reaches for the tea kettle on the table, removes the paper lid and pours her tea.

- ‘Krishna Thakur, no meal for me today. I will be out.’- Mitu tells the cook and gulps tea.

- ‘Madam, your visitor.’-The gatekeeper comes to Mitu, turns back and Mitu follows him to the gate.

Mitu was expecting Abhinav- a colleague, a journalist whom she meets six days a week at work and on Sunday morning he would come alone. Unspoken words within him sprinkle in the pair of eyes. Mitu is warm to this candid, simple youngman, but prefers keeping on mum to his feeling. Mitu believes they are of the same age group, he is slim and average looking, and Mitu doesn’t see a future to the relation.

-‘Good morning.’

-‘Morning, hope I don’t disturb you.’

Perpetually apologetic is Abhinav.

- ‘Never, you are most welcome.’

- ‘Shall we go to the movie?’

- ‘Nice idea but, you know, there is another meeting.’- Mitu regrets her Anjukhuri appointment. She tries to find a way out.

- All right Abhinav, we can surely go to movie but on the way I must drop in at Anjukhuri.

Abhinav nods with pleasure. That is his limit, his perimeter of a date- a movie, a cup of coffee, or an evening walk. He has never learnt to cross his limit.

‘Come on, let us freshen up with a cup of tea.’- Mitu leads Abhinav across the road to a wayside tea stall--a makeshift site surrounded by bamboo frame and a bend down shutter. Mitu and Abhinav find their way to a bench in the interior. The boy there swiftly offers them singaras. He is sure of their taste. The tea stall is doing brisk business, most visitors come to the hostel on a Sunday- guardians, parents, friends and boyfriends- and they step in at this wayside tea stall. After all, it is a Sunday- time for the beauty conscious to rub a face pack or dabble with henna, a few come together to discuss some earthly problems. Mitu rues the independent and careerist tag for the working women who flee home to earn their family’s money. Corporate receptionist Kaveri is there- she drapes herself in the trendy outfit and weeps at midnight for her cancer suffering brother. College teacher Mitali stays in this hostel, she was married, and her husband’s extra-marital affair dumps her here as a divorcee.

-‘What is wrong Mitu, you are lost in thoughts?’

Abhinav asks Mitu with a singara in his hand.

- ‘You said you will be visiting some people on the way' Abhinav reminds her of Anjukhuri. Mitu can’t help being upset when her mind goes to Anjukhuri. Mitu finds this woman unduly possessive of her son. Amiya Deka had spotted Anjukhuri as his bride when she was in the peak of her fame as a bihu dancer. To find a successful businessman as her match was no mean achievement for Anjukhuri. She is proud of her successful man, has remained a devoted wife all through life and she knows she is a small fry by her husband’s status.

Mitu is not comfortable with her planned visit to Anjukhuri. She is wasting her time, what is wrong if Partha loves Samridhi, who can say a day will not come when Anjukhuri will be happy to see Samridhi as her daughter-in-law, and then why on earth all these hullabaloo?

-Hi Mitu.’ – arrives Anwesha with a kitbag on her back. Back from a morning swimming session, she thumps the bag on a wooden bench, pulls out a bottle and pours down half the bottle water through her thirsty throat. -‘Hey Montu there, give me singara.’ Anwesha is sporty, informal and cheerful. But is not she another housewife in the making, ponders Mitu. Definitely Mitu won’t like to see a prospective world winner, as is Anwesha with her bold steps and go-ahead prowess, to bury her promises in a pile of sari, lipstick and ornaments. But that is the inevitable; Mitu can see a whole lot of women’s ambition eaten up by man.

- ‘Let us move.’