Kamala was eager to see all of Calcutta. The glamourous clamour of the city had drawn her small heart to it's wonder.

"Will we live here alone?"
She had pulled the loose end of her saree further over her head and asked with her characteristic bashfulness.

The word We sounded like a harsh mockery to Ramesh's ears.

On the first day after moving into their new home, Kamala had sat down by the window, where the constant flow of people kept her engaged in ever-new bursts of curiosity.

"Do you know these people?" She had asked him.
"Can I talk to those women?"

Ramesh had sighed at her questions.
"No."

They had employed a maid to whom Calcutta held no novelties. Equating her young mistress’s wonder with meaningless ignorance, she said in annoyance,
"What are you staring at? It’s time to have a bath, the day won’t wait for you."

"How is that moving overhead?" Her large eyelashes had fluttered in astonishment as her wonderstruck gaze examined the rotating ceiling fan.

"I don't know", the maid had rolled her eyes at her, "go for a bath Boudidi, I've other places to go to."

Ramesh was reading the morning newspaper when Kamala came out of the bathroom, a cloth wrapped on her long traces and a dry cotton saree wrapped around her moistened body.

Defeated in a fight with his conscience, Ramesh looked up, as she stood infront of the mirror, smearing a large dab of vermillion on her parted hairline, Ramesh couldn't help but gasp at the exquisite beauty that her entire demeanor radiated at that moment, and the futility of the belief that vermillion of all things was meant to bless one's husband with life and longevity.

"Would you buy me a few things?"
She had neared him, standing next to the chair, and Ramesh nodded awkwardly trying to avert the tantalising fragrance of her freshly washed hair.

"I need a small idol of Maa Lokkhi", she smiled and handed him a chit with a list of other household items.

Ramesh smiled back.
"Sure."

Kamala was about to leave, but instead she hesitated for a moment, and finally decided to stay a little longer by her husband's side.

"Can I ask you something?"
She had lowered her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I know you are the one who had chosen me for marriage, so I would take it as you liked me." She paused to frame her words correctly. "But, have I done something wrong to offend you recently?"

Ramesh at once understood where this was leading too. Amidst the conundrum of finding her true identity he had managed to ignore her completely.

"It's not like that Sushi... I mean Kamala." He tried to smile. "It's just that I'm a little busy with my studies, and work... and my father gone..."

Kamala was nodding her head slowly.
"Understood." She smiled.
"Can I tell you something?"

Ramesh looked up at her and nodded.

"I know, girl's aren't meant to have choices, or likes or dislikes, but..." She smiled again and turned her eyes away from him, "but I have liked you very much."

Kamala didn't wait for his reaction, and ran inside the kitchen, as Ramesh sat there with a thudding heart.
What did she just tell him?
Did she just confessed her untarnished affection for him?
Did she just managed to tell him that she had started to love him too, so simply?

Ramesh couldn't think anymore and felt a wretch in his heart.

How cruel this world is!

The maid was to go home after the day’s work since they could not find someone who would stay at night.

'I cannot sleep on the same bed as Kamala any more,' Ramesh had thought, 'but how is she to spend the night alone in this unfamiliar place?'
Once again, like always, Ramesh was torn in between the do's and don'ts, rights and wrongs.

Once the maid left for the day after their dinner, Ramesh told Kamala,
"Go to bed, I’ll sleep after I’ve finished my book."

He pretended to read his book, while a tired Kamala quickly sank into sleep.

The first night passed this way. The next night, too, Ramesh made Kamala go to bed alone on some pretext, as she pouted her lips and sank down on the empty bed unwillingly.
It was particularly warm that day. Spreading out a sheet on the open terrace outside their room, Ramesh lay down on it and, reflecting on different things as he fanned himself, eventually fell asleep.

At about two or three in the morning, a half-asleep Ramesh sensed that he was not alone and that someone was fanning him. In a natural instinct he knew at once who she was and drowsily drawing her close to himself, he mumbled,
"Go to sleep, Sushila, no need to fan me." Afraid of the dark, Kamala slept in comfort in Ramesh’s arms, her head on his chest. And Ramesh too, had wrapped his arm around her small frame, hugging her into the comfort of his companionship.

The chirping of unknown birds had woken up Ramesh with a start the next morning, only to discover Kamala’s sleeping arm entwined around his neck. Exerting herself right over Ramesh, she was sleeping in his embrace without any reservation. Her lips were on his skin, and he felt a tremor in his heart at the realisation of her caressing warm breath on his own. Ramesh’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of the sleeping young woman. How was he to disentangle himself from these trusting, tender arms? He remembered how she had sat down at his side in the middle of the night to fan him. With a deep sigh, he freed himself from her arms gently and left.

The day was particularly agonizing, and after much thought Ramesh finally decided to make arrangements for Kamala at the hostel at a girls’ school. Even if only temporarily, he would be relieved of his worries.