She’d only been 18. Had just completed her plus-two examinations, when her parents had fixed her marriage, promising her that Sukanta was a match she wouldn’t regret and they didn’t want to forgo.
Seated in a bus that would soon leave for Tarakeshwar, Sukanta turned and looked back. He glanced at the narrow lane which couldn’t even accommodate a taxi. At the end stood Sanjeevini, Sukanta and Arpita’s home. It was here that Arpita had stepped in as a blushing bride.
She’d only been 18. Had just completed her plus two examinations, when her parents had fixed her marriage, promising her that Sukanta was a match she wouldn’t regret and they didn’t want to forgo. Not one to question her parents’ judgment, she’d been happy to settle down with a small businessman who had a book store at College Street. Since she didn’t harbour many dazzling dreams, she didn’t have many disappointments either when Sukanta could only afford a string of jasmine or a magazine to woo her at the end of the day. She showed her appreciation in her own signature way. She prepared his favourite vegetable dish, shukto. Like its bitter-sweet flavour, Sukanta’s life too was a plethora of sweet and bitter pleasures and they shared it together.
One day Arpita had shyly declared that she was pregnant. Sukanta immediately set about expanding his business. “My son isn’t going to sit in a dusty old shop, amidst old books and silverfish,” Sukanta declared, fatherly pride already lacing his tone. “He’ll write books. I’ll make him an intellectual. He’ll be a shining beacon to the world. Our world!”
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