Melodious Love

By Rathin Bhattacharjee

In his late-thirties, Aryan decided to vacation in the dreamy Union Territory of Pondicherry at the onset of winter.

He had already booked his suit in Auroville, a study-centre named after a great Indian freedom-fighter-turned-saint. It was on the evening of his arrival while he was loitering aimlessly in those nearby streets that ran parallel to one another leading to the sea shore that he bumped into an attractive lady - her face partially covered with a muffler.

“Jasmine! What a surprise!”

“Aryan! What brings you to far-flung Pondi?”

Aryan stared at her for a while, still as beautiful as at the time she was first introduced to her.

“I live in a house nearby. Wanna come over for coffee?” She asked in her characteristic friendly manner but in place of the former bubbly lady, a more mature woman had emerged.

Aryan nodded as she turned back with him at her heels, stopping before a beautiful house a hundred metre or so up from where they met.

It was a single-storied building with a rectangular courtyard. There were some colourful creepers and climbers beautifying the entrance. Jasmine fumbled for her key-bunch inside her wallet and opened the green door of the house. As she stepped into a small courtyard he could see a small, round table in the middle. There was an air of absolute calm and peace inside.

He was led to a chair near the table while she sat on the chair opposite.

“You live alone? What happened to your husband, that TV news producer or something?”

“Coffee?” She asked him without answering his question.

As Aryan nodded for the second time, she got up to get inside. Sitting there all by himself with all those colourful, tubbed plants around him, Aryan’s mind went back to his first meeting with Jasmine…...

***

“Meet, Jasmine, Sir. She’s the latest addition to our History Department.” Mrs. Chatterjee, the Head of the Social Studies Unit, had told him in the Staff Room.

Aryan glanced at the new-comer, wearing a sea-green georgette sari with a sleeveless blouse and matching high-heeled shoes. Other than the short gold chain with a pendant that reached below the V of her neck, and the Titan wrist watch, she had no ornaments on, Aryan noticed. She had straight, silky hair falling down to her shoulders with the most kind and expressive pair of eyes he had seen on anyone. Her luscious, luring lips made you want to hold her tight, pressing yours against hers. Her youthfulness caught hold of his heart at the first glance.

She smiled at him as she turned away from the V.P, stretching out her hand which Aryan took in a firm grip. Both of them were shocked as something akin to currents or electric shocks shot through both of them.

“Hi. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Roy. Heard a lot about you from Mrs. Chatterjee. I’m looking forward to learning a lot from you.”

“You’re most welcome to come to me any time. I’ll try to help you in whatever manner possible.”

That’s how their friendship began. He was the most eligible bachelor of the school while Jasmine became the most approachable (desirable?) female teacher. Their friendship was bound to turn into a relationship and soon Aryan was visiting her at her quarters even at odd hours.

On the day, they made a trip to a place of historical importance with some other colleagues. Throughout the bus journey, they sat side by side, holding hands, enjoying the beauty and bounty of nature, lost in one another.

Finally, they climbed up the stiff rocks to get to the top of a Palace in ruins. The view from up there was breath-taking! They had some photos snapped together.

“Madam Jasmine, get a bit closer to Sir, will you? Why don't you put your arms through his from behind? Yap, that's it.” The photographer-colleague clicked a few more photos of them with his Polaroid.

That night, tired from the trip, Jasmine stayed at Aryan's.

In the wee hours of the morning, he rolled over, planted a kiss on her sublime face before asking :

“Would you love to settle down here and spend the rest of your life with me?”

Jasmine, still sleepy, winked at his handsome face before mumbling teasingly:

“You mean, whether I’d like to be Mrs. Chatterjee?”

“Hmm..”

“Yea, very much.” She replied.

But Jasmine became very vulnerable the next morning when she overheard that photographer-colleague whispering to someone that he disapproved of such modern ladies as Jasmine was.

The bolt came unexpectedly when their relationship was blooming into something of pure bliss! Aryan was shocked to learn that Jasmine, having tendered her resignation, had left for Kashmir to get married to a news producer of her father’s choice. She didn’t even wait for the farewell party! Nor did she bother to inform Aryan about her decision!

He was so distraught by Jasmine’s sudden departure!

But humans are known to have survived from heartaches before and so did Aryan.

***

“Here’s your coffee.” Jasmine comes back holding a small tray with the mugs and some cookies on it. She sits down on the chair opposite, waiting for Aryan to have a few sips before saying :

“To answer your first question whether I live alone, the answer is ‘No’. I don’t live all by myself here. Regarding the second, you’re right about the News Producer. I was to be married to him but the marriage was called off at the eleventh hour.”

“Why? Was he a drunkard? A lecher? And why did you leave me like the way you did?” Aryan cannot control his voice.

“He’s a good man, willing to marry me even after the disclosure.” Jasmine replies sombrely.

“Disclosure? What are you talking about? I don't really get you!”

“I told him that I was into the third month of pregnancy.”

“What? You’re preg… ! How could that be? Aryan looks thunderstruck before adding : “Wait a bit. Was that the reason why you left me? To protect your honour and reputation? You don’t mean to say that I’d anything to do……?” He stops mid-sentence, looking askance at her.

She stifles a sob and answers in a trembling voice,“ I do, Aryan. Did I ever give you the impression of a woman who loves sleeping around? I left you to protect not mine, but your reputation.”

He is crestfallen, speechless.

“Anyway, the marriage got cancelled. I left Kashmir when I landed up with a job here.” She puts her mug down, looks at her watch and exclaims, “I’ve gotta go out now.”

She heads towards the door with Aryan following her.

“Where are you headed at this time?” He asks her, shakily.

“To pick up Aryasi.”

“Who’s Arya… .? Hang on a sec. Don’t tell me she’s your daughter!”

“She’s. Ours. Studying at St. Mary’s, in Class-VII.”

Finding that he is still waiting out after she has locked the house, she smiles that infectious smile of hers for the first time: “Been waiting all these years, hoping against hope, that love would bring you back to me. Wanna come along with me, My Love?”

💕💕💕💕💕

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Rathin Bhattacharjee from Kolkata, India, former Principal, SXPS, Joypur, worked as an English Teacher in BCSC, Bhutan. Winner of His Majesty’s Gold Medal (2018), he is a much-published, anthologized author with 5 books to his credit. He has been adjudged the Best Fiction Writer by different publishers. An avid reader, he loves writing, critiquing, translating and editing.

My personalised Facebook Profile link is : https://www.facebook.com/rathin.bhattacharjee.1