Jogen Mullick was a busy man, perhaps the busiest in entire eastern Mymensing... For, his eldest daughter was to get married the next day.

"Just a day... Just a day... And so much to do!!" Mullick patted his half bald head restlessly, eyeing the decorations at the entrance to his back Verandah.

"Aye... Fix that carpet..." He yelled at one, "yes, yes, that red one for the groom!"
The hustle bustle continued, and seeking a little seclusion to calculate the expenses so far, Mullick entered the decorated courtyard, adjacent to the canopied ground where sitting arrangements were done meticulously for the guest from groom's side.

"Ogoo..." A quivering female voice had interjected, and turning around, Mullick's facial expression changed at once.

"Why are you out here Pushpo?" He growled at the woman, his wife, and the dark complexioned fearful lady opened her mouth to speak once again, conjuring all the strength that her mother's heart could bore.

"I... I'm saying... Please... Please think twice... Our Jhinuk is only a child!"

"A child?" Mullick almost spat fire at his wife.
"A child? Have you seen her dark ugly face? I'm sure you have..." He let out a spiteful exhale.
"It's my forefather's good deeds that Bharat Chattujjee has agreed to make your ugly duckling his wife."

"But... But... He's fifty two!" PushpoMala let out a suppressed cry, tears rolling down her swollen eyelids, as she pleaded to her husband with folded hands.
"Please... Please, Putul's father... Please don't let her die like this!"

PushpoMala had sank down on the floor, her hands grabbing Jogen Mullick's legs, as she buried her face in his feet shedding tears.

"Leave... Leave me you disgusting thing!"
Mullick had fisted his hands, as he glanced around once before grabbing his wife's hair tightly in his fist.

"Ahh...ahhh... It's hurting..."
PushpoMala cried out, and Jogen Mullick landed a hard smack on her cheek in response.

"You fifty woman! It's your fault... All your fault!" Mullick kicked her away from his feet, hitting Pushpo's stomach, and she lay tattered on the floor, a little away from him, her face buried in the scarlet wedding carpet, and her forehead banging on the ground in helplessness.

"You have given birth to five girls! Five Fucking Girls!!" Jogen Mullick spat at her in disgust.
"Not a single son you wretched witch! And all five of them as ugly as their deepshit mother!"
He eyed the flower-clad entrance, ensuing this little act of his was unnoticed, and spitting at his weeping wife once again, he left the place.

"Hey Maa Durga... Durgati Nashini... I beg you Maa... Please... Please save my daughters!" She banged her head on the hard carpeted floor of their modest courtyard, her heart lacerated, and her face bruised.
"If I've ever been an honest woman, a chaste one, save my daughter... I beg you!" She lamented continually, her warm tears soaking the rough ground, her heart desparately looking for an answer... and, before she could make any more laments to the goddess, a soft gentle hand touched her shoulder.

"Maa...!"

PushpoMala raised her head and looked up. It was her youngest daughter, Putul, standing infront with a rag doll cradled in her left arm, and her right hand held another's hand, a white rock glowing on her ring finger... And somehow in her mother's heart, Pushpo knew at once that if anyone could help her daughter, that would be the owner of this hand... the hand that perhaps Maa Durga had sent to her, her rescuer, her refuge, her only hope!

"I heard some of it... But, tell me Didi, why do you not want your daughter to get married?"
The owner of those gentle pristine hands had now sat down infront of her, on her ground, her face slightly visible behind the veil of the old saree that had covered her face, a pair of calm bright eyes staring back at her with compassion.

"Because... Because the man is fifty two years old!" PushpoMala sobbed out the words, "and my Jhinuk is just thirteen!"
She had held the shoulders of the stranger and cried her heart out,
"Help me... Please... Save my daughter!"  The words her echoing in the air, her eyes pressed shut, and sobs coming out from her core.

"I'll... I'll Didi... I promise you, I won't let this unmatched marriage happen!"

The words had quieten Pushpo, and she opened her eyes slowly to take a good look of the speaker's face... The calm, beautiful face with a pair of honest fearless eyes.

"Who are you?"
PushpoMala asked, as a sudden sense of awe had taken over her weak senses.

"I'm someone who can feel your pain... What you're going through right now... The helplessness!"
Her hands had moved up to wipe the tear-strains from Pushpo's face.
"I too was a victim once..." She paused, and PushpoMala saw empathy, not just in her voice, but the her eyes too.

"What's your name?" She murmured.

"Bondita!"

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Although an avid reader, Zamindar Trilochan Roy Chowdhury never preferred reading a newspaper, instead, he would listen to the news in radio, his attention span only limited to the political news of the country, and the moment it's about any regional conflicts or news about a princely state, he would turn it off at once, as if deliberately keeping away from it.
That morning too, he was listening to the radio, when Bhargavi had approached him with a bright smile on her face.

"Stop... I said stop girl!" Koeli was yelling in a suppressed voice at her from behind, but Bhargavi was far from paying heed. She neared Trilochan with a small tray in hand, a brass bowl and a matching spoon placed on it.

"Bhargavi?"
The noise had caught Trilochan's attention too, and he was looking at the girl with curious eyes.

"Zamindar Babu, I made you something." She placed the tray on the tea table infront and stood cheerfully, her glassed eyes smiling more than her lips.

"What is it?"
The Zamindar asked softly, and Bhargavi shrugged her shoulders playfully and grinned at him.

"Why don't you try and tell me what it is?"

Trilochan frowned at the girl, although her playful gestures were amusing him, but at that moment he had other grave stuffs to focus on.

"I'm a little busy now... I'll eat later may be." He replied, and Bhargavi nodded her head vigorously in negation and promptly sat at his feet.

"Please Zamindar Babu, now."

Trilochan sighed at this strange behaviour, and glanced at Koeli once, her face pale and her mouth opened in an O.

"Alright... One spoon."
He murmured softly and took a spoonful of the light green thick content from the bowl, a little reluctantly at first, but the moment his tastebuds felt the rich sweetness of the dish, his eyes widened in approval, his lips automatically curled up in a pleasing smile.

"What is it? It's delicious... Tastes like... Like Payesh!"
He had taken another spoonful of the dessert, as he closed his eyes relishing it's taste.

"It's Kheer, the way we make it in Dehradun." Bhargavi was grinning, her small hands tried to fix her glasses back to the bridge of her nose constantly.

"But, it's not rice... Is it?"
Trilochan asked, eating more of it.

"No... But, tell me Zamindar Babu, what's that one thing that your doctor has asked you to eat, which you don't?"

Trilochan frowned again, eyeing at Koeli, and the poor woman was banging her head with her palm.

"What? Bottle gourd!"
Trilochan gulped, his eyes widened, and Bhargavi nodded her head, picking up the empty bowl in her hand.

"Correct... It's lauki Kheer, we can't afford Gobindo Bhog rice for Kheer, so my mother makes it with bottle gourd whenever my younger sister cries for it."
She stood up at once, grinning, and Trilochan swallowed once, savouring the taste of the delicious vegetable that he despise above everything else.

"I got to know from Koeli Mashi that you don't eat Bottle Gourd despite your doctor telling you to do so, and hence I thought of making this for you..." She paused, as if reading the dumbfounded expression on the old man's face.
"See, my mother too used to trick my sister into eating bitter gourd sometimes, but if it's for good, then you shouldn't be holding it against the one feeding you, should you? If your mother would have been here, I'm sure she would've fed you like this."
Bhargavi murmured softly, trying to reason, as Trilochan's gaped expression aided with Koeli's non-stop patting of her forehead had made her a little apprehensive of her deed, making her feel somewhat dejected, but before Bhargavi could turn around to leave, Trilochan had stood up from his armchair, and looking up at him, Bhargavi saw glints of glossiness in his eyes.

"I'm sure my mother would have." Trilochan was smiling, and to Koeli's utmost astonishment, he even patted the girl's head gently, before pulling out a big hundred rupees note from his ledger book.

"Here, your reward." He pushed the money into the girl's hand and she widened her eyes at him in surprise.

"I... I don't need money." She murmured softly.

"Then? What do you wish for in reward?" Trilochan smiled fondly, and Bhargavi gulped nervously before speaking again.

"Put me... Put me to a good school." She muttered.

Trilochan had always fumbled with emotions in moments like this, balancing his hard exterior and the softest interior had always left him in emotional conflicts. But at that moment, looking at that sweet innocent girl standing infront of him with hope in her heart, Trilochan felt like looking into a mirror... Nine years ago someone had demanded the same reward from him once... And now he can't be more proud for her!
His dearest daughter-in-law... Bondita!

Can this girl too... Can she be his daughter... Trilochan shook off the thoughts at once, and exhaling sharply, he smiled.

"I'll... But before that you'll have to do one more thing." He winked at the girl mischievously.
"Feed this to the person who hates bottle gourd more than me, can you?"

Bhargavi was about to reply, but before she could another voice called out from the stairs, running down and inching towards them.

"Kaka... Kaka... I need to go to Calcutta, now... And we'll be back by night."

"We?" Trilochan asked, as Bhargavi ran out into the kitchen at once.

"Yes Kaka, Mira and I." He replied plainly, bending down to tie his shoelaces.

"Mira? Why suddenly?"
Trilochan had an immediate frown on his face.

"Umm... Well, she needs to be at the Calcutta head post office, I've found her son's post office address... and, I intend to dig the telephone number of that place and enquire, may be make her speak if possible." Batuk neared Koeli standing with a wash bowl in her hand, as he wiped his fingers in a small cotton cloth, returning it back to the old maid.

"But... Would it be safe?"
Trilochan's forehead had furrowed more, and Batuk sighed loudly.

"I'll try to keep it safe... I'll stick to college street... My campus area would be comparatively safer, plus I'll take the car, not the open Jeep.

"Hmm!" Trilochan sighed.
"Would you take Bhargavi too?"

Batuk narrowed his eyes thoughtfully for a second, before he turned to the girl standing beside him with a small bowl in her hand.

"Would you like to go?"
He asked, and Bhargavi nodded her head in negation.

"No..."

"I thought so..." Batuk smiled gently at her and took the bowl from her hand.
"For me?" He asked, putting a spoonful of the kheer in his mouth, as the aromatic deliciousness made his eyes widen in delight.
"Wow... What's this? Can I have some more?"

Bhargavi nodded happily, exchanging a subtle glance with the old Zamindar, smirking at them, but before she could go to refill the bowl, Batuk called her again.

"Oh... And would you please go and ask your Mira Didi to get ready and come down."

"Wait, she doesn't know?" Trilochan rolled his eyes at his nephew, and Batuk held the empty bowl to his lips, licking the traces of the kheer from it.

"No." He smacked his lips and grinned at the girl.
"What's this made of?"

"I'll tell you once you return." Bhargavi smiled at him happily and ran away, leaving a happy Batuk and his thoughtful uncle behind.

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