PREVIOUSLY:

He whispered(softly)-"Meri Bondita.....My Shona....My Baby Girl...."

His eyes fluttered shut—reluctantly, like pages unwilling to close. And for the first time, sleep didn't come from exhaustion.

******CHAPTER 4: DISTANCING FROM HIM 😔💔*********

"Walking away from someone you still love is agonising, but staying only deepens the wound when they don't value you the same way ."

The heavy scent of midnight jasmine drifted through the window, but Bondita felt only the suffocating weight of the silence in her room. She sat huddled at her desk, a small figure engulfed by the shadows of the vast Roy Choudhury mansion.

Her long, thick hair, usually pinned with the discipline of a student, now cascaded down her back like a silken shroud, messy and unkept. She was draped in a pale, translucent night saree that clung to her like a second skin, its light fabric offering no protection against the cold realisation that her time in this house was over.

On her desk, two worlds collided.

To her right lay her law books—thick, imposing volumes with dog-eared pages and underlined passages where Anirudh had taught her the meaning of justice. To her left sat her diary, its pages white and expectant, waiting to record the greatest injustice of all: the breaking of her heart.

She sat there, her long hair flowing over her shoulders like a dark river of grief, the fine fabric of her night saree damp with the tears she could no longer hold back.

Her law books remained open, their complex theories offering no solution for the ache in her chest. She looked at her diary, the nib of her pen hovering over the paper as she whispered to the empty room, her voice a broken thread of sound:

Bondita:-"Kuch samajh nahi aa raha kya karna hai... Pehle kuch bhi pareshaani hoti toh bina soche Unke paas chali jaati, par ab humare halat kuch aise badal gaye ki ab main unke saamne nahi jaa sakthi. Kya karu main?"

She stared at the open textbooks. He had taught her to find an answer to every 'Why,' but he hadn't taught her how to live in a house where his smiles were shared with Manorama.

With a trembling hand, she touched the pages of her diary, her voice cracking as she whispered to the flickering candle:

"Hum aapse bahut prem karthe hai Pati Babu... par aapko aur Manorama ji ko saath dekthe hai toh bahut bura lagtha hai."

A hot tear fell, blurring the ink. She looked at the books Anirudh had gifted her, feeling a hollow ache in her chest.

"Lagtha hai ki kya galti hai meri, ki aap Manorama ko ghar lekar aaye, shaadi kiye unse aapne... Kya kami reh gayi thi mujhmein Pati Babu? Main toh aapse itna prem karthi hun, par aapko aur Manorama ji ko ek saath nahi dekh sakthi."

She turned her gaze toward the small idol of the Goddess in the corner, her eyes red with exhaustion and grief.

"Hey Dugga Ma... main kya karu?"

Bondita stood up slowly, her legs feeling heavy, as if the very floor of the Haveli was trying to hold her back. She walked to the window and looked out at the vast horizon. The decision had crystallised in her heart like ice—cold, hard, and final.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror—not as the child bride he saved, but as the woman he had created. Her voice was no longer a sob; it was a steady, heartbreaking whisper of a final vow:

"Pati Babu, maine soch liya hai ki main ab aapse durr chali jaunghi. Aapse, iss ghar se durr... Dalhousie jaounghi."

She touched the barrister's robe hanging nearby, her fingers lingering on the fabric one last time.

"Aapki khushi ke liye main sab chodh dunghi... Aapse bahut prem karthi hun Pati Babu, par aapko kisi aur ke saath nahi dekh sakthi."

In her mind, Dalhousie wasn't just a place; it was a fortress where she would bury her heart and drown herself in her books. If she couldn't be the queen of his heart, she would at least be the Barrister he dreamt of—even if she had to do it in total solitude.

Bondita pulled a crumpled paper from her drawer—the admission form for Dalhousie she had filled out days ago in a moment of despair. Now, it was no longer a piece of paper; it was her ticket to a life without the man who was her heartbeat.

She smoothed the paper out on the desk, her eyes cold and determined, though her voice still trembled with the weight of her love.

"Aap chinta mat kijiyegha Barrister Babu, main jald se jald aapki zindagi se door ho jaunghi. Main aapki life mein khirkiri banke nahi rahungi."

She looked at the ink pen, the one he had taught her to hold with such pride.

"Main turant kal hi iss form ko post kar dunghi aur interviewer ko bhi inform karthi hun ki woh mera interview jald se jald le aur mera admission kara de."

She clutched the form to her chest, closing her eyes as if to memorise the scent of the room, the scent of him that lingered everywhere.

"Main aapse bahut pyaar karthi hun Barrister Babu, iss liye aapke khushi ke liye sab kuch chodhkar jaa rahi hun. Mere dil mein humesha ke liye aapke liye jagah hain... Aur sahi yahi rahega ki aapse main bahut door hi chali jaaon, bahut hi door."

She lay back down on her bed, the silence of the room swallowing her words. She wasn't just leaving a house; she was leaving her soul behind. The woman who would arrive in Dalhousie would be a Barrister, but the girl who loved Anirudh Roy Choudhury was saying her final, silent goodbye.

HERE AT 3:00 A.M. 

Anirudh was slumped over his mahogany desk in the study, his head resting on his arms amidst a sea of legal briefs. The scent of spilt ink and cold coffee hung in the air. He had fallen asleep dreaming of Bondita, but his rest was shattered by the sharp, metallic jangle of the wall-mounted crank telephone.

He bolted upright, his spectacles sliding down his nose. The room was dark, save for a single flickering candle. He reached for the receiver, his voice thick with sleep and an unexplained dread.

Anirudh: (into the mouthpiece): -"Hello? Roy Choudhury speaking. Who is this at such an ungodly hour?"

Voice on the Line: -"Barrister Babu? This is Srivastava from the High Court Registry in Kolkata. Forgive the intrusion, sir, but the situation is dire."

Anirudh: (rubbing his eyes, his heart beginning to race):-"Srivastava? What is it? Has the hearing been moved?"

Srivastava:- "Exactly that, sir. The Chief Justice has moved the Imperial Land Dispute case to tomorrow morning's docket. With the current political unrest and the transition of files, they want this settled before the weekend. If you aren't here by 10:00 AM, the bench will pass an ex parte order. You must catch the night mail train, Anirudh ji."

Anirudh: -(looking toward the door, thinking of Bondita in the room down the hall) "Tomorrow? No, that's impossible. I have... I have urgent matters at home. I need to speak to someone here. Can it not wait until Monday?"

Srivastava:-"Sir, you know the climate of the country right now. The Law doesn't wait for personal grievances. If you lose this case, the farmers lose everything. The last train leaves in forty minutes. You must hurry."

Anirudh: (a long pause, his hand gripping the receiver so hard his knuckles turned white) "I understand. I... I will be there.

The click of the receiver echoed like a gunshot in the silent study. Anirudh stood frozen, his hand still resting on the cold brass of the telephone. Outside, the wind howled through the banyan trees, but the storm inside him was louder.

The Barrister (Logic):-"Tum kiske liye rukk rahe ho, Anirudh? Kartavya tumhe pukaar raha hai! Agar tum Kolkata nahi pahunche, toh ek masoom parivaar apni zameen kho dega.You are a man of the law!"

The Lover (Longing):-"But Bondita... she is suffering. wo tadap rahi hai. Tumhe abhi ehsas hua hai ki tumhara dil sirf uske liye dhadakta hai. Tum use iss khamoshi mein chodhkar kaise jaa sakte ho, ye jaante hue ki wo samjhegi ki tumhe uski parwah nahi?"

The Barrister (Logic):-"Emotions are a distraction. Tum laut kar usse apne dil ki baat keh sakte ho. Is waqt, nyay intezaar nahi kar sakta. Train kuch hi minto mein nikal jayegi!"

The Lover (Longing):-"What if there is no 'later'.Agar 'baad mein' kabhi aaya hi nahi toh? Uske kamre mein jao. Bas ek baar keh do—mujhe maaf kardo bondita, mainbas tumse prem karta hoon. Uska dil bachane ke liye sirf doo minute lagega"

The Barrister (Logic):-"A Barrister's word is his bond. You gave your word to the court. Go now, or you fail as a professional and a Roy Choudhury!"

Anirudh (Aloud, in agony):- "Bas! Chup ho jao!"He clutched his head, the sweat beading on his forehead. "Main duty se muh nahi mod sakta... par mera mann..."

Anirudh groaned, clutching his head. "Nahi... main aise nahi jaa sakta," he whispered. "Bondita ko batana hoga ki mera dil kya mehsoos kar raha hai."

He took two steps toward the door, his heart leaping with the hope of a confession. But then, he looked at his watch. The Night Mail would leave in thirty minutes. If he missed it, the case was lost. The "Barrister" in him strangled the "Lover."

Finally, the Barrister won. He grabbed his coat, his eyes brimming with a tragic resolve. "Bondita... main laut kar aaunga. Bas ye ek case, aur phir main sirf tumhara hoon." 

"Dugga Ma, mujhe shakti dijiye," he prayed, his voice choked. "Main apni zimmedari se muh nahi mod sakta. Bondita... meri Bondita samajh jayegi. Wo humesha samajhti hai."

He moved with a sudden, desperate energy. He grabbed his black coat and shoved his legal files into his leather briefcase. Every movement was frantic, driven by a mix of professional duty and personal guilt.

He stepped out into the hallway and shouted for his driver, his voice echoing through the sleeping Haveli.

Anirudh: "Gopal! Gopal! Gaadi nikalo! Turant!"

The driver came running, rubbing his eyes in confusion. "Abhi, Chote Malik? Is waqt?"

Anirudh: (Snapping, his stress overflowing) "Baat mat karo, Gopal! Kolkata ke liye aakhri train nikalne waali hai. Agar hum paanch minute mein nahi nikle, toh sab barbad ho jayega! Jaldi!"

As the car started, Anirudh looked up at Bondita's balcony one last time. The light was still on in her room. He didn't know she was clutching a Dalhousie admission form to her chest. He thought he was leaving for two days; he didn't realise he was leaving behind a heart that had already decided to vanish.

As the car engine roared to life and the gravel crunched under the tyres, Anirudh didn't look back. He was a man running toward his duty, completely unaware that he was running away from the last chance to save his love.

The next morning, the Roy Choudhury Haveli was echoing with the sounds of conch shells and the ululudhvani of women. It was Manorama's 'Bou Bhaat' (post-wedding ritual). The smell of sandalwood and feast food filled the air.

But in the hallway, far removed from the festivities, Bondita stood by the telephone. Her face was pale, devoid of any jewelry, a stark contrast to the colorful celebration happening in the courtyard. While the world celebrated Anirudh's "marriage," Bondita was arranging her exile.

She picked up the receiver, her fingers trembling but her voice steady.

Bondita:- "Hello? Operator, please connect me to the Dalhousie Law Boarding School... Yes, the admissions office. It is urgent."

(A few moments of static)

Interviewer (Mr. Das):- "Hello? Admissions office, Mr. Das speaking. Who is this?"

Bondita:-"Namaskar, Sir. Main Bondita Das... uh, Bondita Roy Choudhury bol rahi hun. Maine kal apna admission form bheja tha. I know it is late, but I request you to conduct my interview today itself via telephone."

Mr Das:- "Today? Mrs Roy Choudhury, that is highly irregular. We usually schedule these weeks in advance."

Bondita: -"Please, Sir. Mere paas samay nahi hai. My circumstances... are difficult. Main Barrister Babu Anirudh Roy Choudhury ki student hun. Please, take my interview now. Main har sawaal ka jawab dene ke liye taiyaar hun."

Mr Das:- (Pausing, impressed by her urgency and the name drop) "Anirudh Babu's student? Very well. If you are his student, I expect brilliance. Hold the line. I will begin the viva voce right now."

While laughter erupted from the courtyard where Manorama was being blessed, Bondita turned her back to the noise, pressing the receiver closer to her ear. This wasn't just an interview; it was her claiming the identity Anirudh gave her.

Mr. Das:-  "Tell me, Bondita ji, why do you want to become a Barrister? Is it for fame?"

Bondita:-  "Nahi, Sir. Fame ke liye nahi. Law is not a weapon to rule; it is a shield to protect. Ek Barrister ka kaam sirf case jeetna nahi hota, balki sachai ko jeetana hota hai. Main unki awaaz banna chahti hun jinke paas apni awaaz uthane ki taakat nahi hai."

Mr. Das:- "Impressive. Next question. If the law contradicts morality, what will you choose?"

Bondita:- (Remembering Anirudh's teachings) "Kanoon insaan ki bhalai ke liye bana hai, Sir. Agar kanoon kisi ke aansuon ka kaaran ban jaye, toh uss kanoon ko badalne ka saahas rakhna hi ek sache Barrister ki pehchan hai. Tark (logic) aur insaaniyat (humanity) dono zaruri hain."

The questions went on for twenty minutes. Bondita answered with a maturity far beyond her years, channelling every lesson Anirudh had ever taught her.

Mr. Das: -"Excellent. Truly excellent. Mrs Roy Choudhury, you are selected. However, the academic session begins in two days. You would need to be in Dalhousie immediately."

Bondita: - (A tear rolling down her cheek) "Dhanyavaad, Sir. Main aaj hi nikal rahi hun."

Bondita gripped the telephone receiver, her knuckles white. She had passed the interview, but there was one last practical hurdle. She couldn't ask the Roy Choudhury drivers to take her; that would raise questions she couldn't answer.

Bondita:-"Sir, I have one last request. Can a car from the school come to pick me up? I... I don't want to trouble my family. I want this journey to be my own."

Mr. Das: -"It is unusual, Mrs Roy Choudhury, but since our transport vehicle is currently in Tulsipur for supplies, I will send the driver. He will be there in an hour."

Bondita: -"Dhanyavaad, Sir."

She hung up the phone and rushed to her room. She didn't have much time.

She opened the large, heavy wooden Sandook (trunk). Inside, she began to place the parts of herself she was leaving behind. Her heavy silk sarees, the jewellery Anirudh had given her, the toys she used to play with, and the colourful ribbons.

She ran to Anirudh's room and the study one last time. She gathered her slate, her pencils, and the small notes he had written for her corrections. But she left behind the gifts—the binoculars, the gramophone records.

She placed them all in the Sandook. With a heavy heart, she locked it and shoved it deep into the Almirah. It was like locking away her childhood.

She changed into a simple, white cotton saree—no heavy borders, no shine. Just the attire of a student. She took only her textbooks, her diary, and a few necessities in a small handheld bag.

She stood at the door of her room, looking back one last time. The room whispered memories of her laughter and Anirudh's scoldings. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Alvida," she whispered.

Bondita walked to Trilochan's room. He was sitting on his divan, checking the accounts.

Bondita:- "Kaka Sasurji..."

Trilochan looked up and frowned, seeing her simple clothes and the bag. "Arre Bahu? Ye kaisa vesh banaya hai? Aur ye bag?"

Bondita:-"Kaka Sasurji, main Dalhousie jaa rahi hun. Mera admission ho gaya hai. School ki gaadi mujhe lene aa rahi hai."

Trilochan:- (Standing up angrily) "Kya? Bilkul nahi! Anirudh ghar par nahi hai, aur tum aise bina bataye nahi jaa sakti. Main tumhe ijaazat nahi deta!"

Bondita walked closer and sat near his feet, holding his hand.

Bondita:- "Kaka Sasurji, yaad hai aapne kaha tha ki main iss ghar ki Lakshmi hun? Aaj wahi Lakshmi aapse vidai maang rahi hai. Pati Babu chahte the ki main Barrister banu. Agar main aaj nahi gayi, toh unka sapna toot jayega."

Trilochan:- "Par Bahu, aaj hi kyun? Anirudh ke aane ka intezaar kar lo."

Bondita:- (With tears in her eyes, choking back a sob) "Kuch faisle waqt par lene padte hain Kaka Sasurji. Aap toh mujhe apni beti maante hain na? Kya aap apni beti ki taraqqi ke beech aayenge? Please, mujhe rokhiye mat. Agar aapne roka, toh shayad main kabhi himmat nahi juta paungi."

Trilochan saw the pain and the fierce determination in her eyes. He melted. He placed his hand on her head, his voice trembling.

Trilochan:- "Jaa... meri bachi. Vijay bhava. Par jaldi wapas aana."

Bondita touched his feet, weeping. She knew she wouldn't be coming back soon.

Bondita walked to the main entrance—the massive wooden doors of the Haveli.

She paused at the Dehleej (threshold). A flash of memory hit her hard. She remembered the day Anirudh brought her here—a small, frightened girl holding his hand. She remembered how he fought the world to bring her inside. She remembered their laughter, their fights, and their late-night study sessions.

Every pillar of the house seemed to scream, "Don't go!"

She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop her sob, stepped over the threshold, and didn't look back. The school car was waiting.

She sat inside. As the engine roared to life and the car began to pull away, the Haveli grew smaller in the distance. She looked at Anirudh's balcony window one last time.

Bondita:-(Whispering to the wind) "I love you, Pati Babu... Hum aapse bahoot pyaar karthe hai. Hamesha khush rehna."

Miles away in the bustling Kolkata High Court, the atmosphere was thick with the heat of the afternoon and the weight of the law. Anirudh was standing before the judge, his voice commanding the room as he argued the Imperial Land Dispute case.

Anirudh: -"My Lord, the evidence clearly suggests that the farmers were in possession of the land since..."

Suddenly, Anirudh stopped mid-sentence.

A sharp, piercing ache shot through his chest—breathless and agonising. It wasn't physical pain; it was a spiritual severance. He gasped, his hand flying to his heart, clutching the fabric of his black coat as if trying to hold himself together. His fountain pen slipped from his sweaty fingers and clattered loudly onto the floor, the ink spilling out like a dark omen.

Judge:- "Mr Roy Choudhury? Are you alright? You look pale."

Anirudh stood frozen, his eyes wide and disoriented. His heart was pounding against his ribs, not with adrenaline, but with fear.

Seeing his state, a junior colleague, Mr Gupta, quickly stepped forward from the bench behind him. He poured a glass of water from the carafe and held it out to Anirudh.

Mr Gupta:- (Whispering urgently) "Anirudh Babu? Paani lijiye. Please, drink this."

Anirudh's hand trembled slightly as he took the glass. He downed the water in one go, hoping the cool liquid would douse the sudden fire of anxiety burning in his chest. But the water felt like ash in his throat. He handed the glass back, taking a deep, shaky breath to steady his spinning world.

Anirudh:- (Voice hoarse) "Thank you... I... I apologise, My Lord. Just a moment of dizziness."

Judge:- "Very well. Let us proceed. The court does not have all day."

Anirudh bent down, picked up his fallen pen, and straightened his coat. "Yes, My Lord," he said, forcing his professional mask back on.

He resumed his argument, citing sections and clauses, but his voice lacked its usual fire. While his lips spoke of land rights and revenue records, his mind was screaming a name he couldn't say aloud.

Bondita.

Even as the proceedings continued and the distraction of the court took over, the restlessness didn't fade. It settled deep in his bones—a heavy, hollow ache. Every time the heavy doors of the courtroom opened, his head jerked up involuntarily, expecting bad news.

He didn't know why, but he felt as though he was arguing for a piece of land while losing his entire world.

******************END OF CHAPTER 4:DISTANCING FROM HIM.😔💔.*****************

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