Golden threads of morning light had transformed the dark of the dreadful night into an ambient optimism.
Batuk had rushed back at dawn, after the telephone call, with the head of Medical College board, Dr. Prantik Pramanik accompanying him to the Roy Chowdhury Residence.
Prantik Babu, the influential septuagenerian Dean of Calcutta Medical College, was a well-known Swadeshi sympathiser. His active rallies protesting against the 1911 massacre had earned him jail time as well, during his student days. And, since then his name had been indirectly involved in a multitude of activities involving Krantikaris, but always without any evidence. Even at this age, although not actively, but his contributions to the Swadeshi Movement of Bengal wasn't unknown to anyone. He was affectionate towards all his students, the aspiring doctors of the country, but in his heart special places were reserved only for those young men who had the potential of proving themselves as true patriots, beyond their regular medical lessons.

Batuk, reluctantly, was speaking to two young reporters from the Evening Daily outside the gate as Prantik Babu sat inside the ground floor guest room, the spacious one on the left to Batuk's bedroom. Owing to his broken limbs, Satya had stationed Anirudh there, unable to carry his huge frame up to his bedroom. Anirudh had lay there still, his eyes closed, breathing steady, inebriated under the sedatives, as Prantik Babu monitored the blood transfusion channel once again.
Bondita had stood beside him, ever ready to attend to her husband's needs.

"He seems to have lost a lot of blood." The old doctor sighed as Bondita advanced the small tub of hot water to him as asked.

"How many more blood bags would be needed?" Bondita asked patiently making a mental note of all the arrangements that were needed to be done.

"Two more." The old doctor looked up at her, as his expert eyes didn't fail to miss the tired patches of sleeplessness under her eyes.
"I'll arrange it, Mrs. Roy Chowdhury, you too should take a little rest now."

Bondita forced a smile of courtesy.
"I'll rest once he wakes up, fit and fine."

The doctor sighed and nodded, pulling out a small bottle of pills from his bag, and handed it over to Bondita, as she pulled out the writing pad immediately.

"When should I give him these?" She prepared to jot down the instruction.

"These are for you, Mrs. Roy Chowdhury. One after food, along with a little rest." He paused.
"I understand it's hard to keep up in such situations. But trust me, your husband is an extremely brave man, and he'd be back on his feet before you know it... But, then, he would need his strength by his side as well, wouldn't he?" He smiled tenderly, as tears started to form around the corner of her eyes.

"You're probably of my granddaughter's age, Maa... And, I won't give you false hope. Your husband had suffered a lot, no wonder, and would need time to heal. But have faith, and I promise he would definately heal."

"Please call me Bondita, Daktar Babu."

"Daktar Dadu for you, Bondita Maa... Call me Daktar Dadu." He touched Bondita's head gently, letting out a breath, as his heart muttered a prayer for her.

"Sir, how long will it take for Dada to be back on his feet?" Batuk had returned back, a little distracted, as he scratched his head unmindfuly.

"A few months. You tell me young doctor, how long do you think he should take?" Prantik Babu had gotten up from his seat as he prepared to exam the patched up bullet wound on Anirudh's shoulder.

Batuk let out a sigh.
"Dada would be fine in no time, he always does. But..."

"But?" Bondita interjected.

"But the reporters back at the gate, they asked what would happen to the case? The one for which he worked so much..." He sank down on the couch kept aside and ran his fingers through his hair in dismay.
"Tomorrow is the day to present the evidence to the Court."

"Evidence?? Do you think your Dada is in a state to..."
Bondita frowned at Batuk's words as the latter intervened in the middle without letting her complete.

"I know that Boudi... But, what I'm saying is all his efforts would be wasted if it's not presented tomorrow."

"But we don't know what happened to the evidence, do we? It's only him..."

The duo continued to exchange short conversations as suddenly Dr. Prantik narrowed his expert eyes and covered the bullet wound once again.

"It's... It's very expertly done." He nodded his head pushing the glasses to the bridge of his nose.
"I know this work..." He looked up.
"Batuk... Where is he? Where is my lion?"

..............................................

Although the morning had brought fresh perspective and hope to many, the indoors of the Raybahadur palace still felt cold and hellish to Raimoti. Locked up inside her own room, she had fallen asleep, with red eyes and tear-strained cheeks. She had laid on the floor, her hair open, scattered over the expensive Kashmiri carpet, as her fragile hands still clutched the envelope to her chest, even in her sleep. 
Terrors of nightmare had washed her unconscious mind, making her shiver and cry even in sleep.
She hadn't touched food in the past two days, and her weak, frail body was shaken into awakening by a sharp shrill cry of a bird, sitting outside her window, as she opened her tired eyes slowly.

The Roy Chowdhurys... the terrible night... Anirudh Babu... Bondita...!

The first thoughts that had crossed her mind made her cry again. She buried her face in her palms and lamented the alleged loss as suddenly a strong shattering noise startled her to the core.

Shattering of glasses?
Utensils?

Raimoti narrowed her eyes, focusing on the noises outside as her auditory senses made her acutely aware of the screaming bellows of her father.
Raimoti quickly reached out to the Radio and turned it on.

'.... although it's not yet clear how this happened, or who is behind this disasterous misdeed, but the assassination attack on the famous Barrister wasn't to be taken lightly. According to our sources, Anirudh Roy Chowdhury, now confined within the safety of his own mansion, although had survived the brutal attack, but his medical conditions is not very favorable. Now, the question is, what would happen to the Swadeshi Custodial Death Case? What would happen to the treacherous allegations that he had brought against the Ex- justice Ray Bahadur Neelmoni Mukherjee? Will he get a safe pass due to lack of evidence? Or will the injured Barrister find a way to produce the evidences in the court as always.
For more updates on this sensational news, stay on Radio and till then, let's pray together for the speedy recovery of the man, who had us all rooted to our faith on the goodness of humanity.'

Raimoti was listening to the news with her eyes wide open. Her heart had skipped beats at the announcement of Anirudh escaping his imminent death, and it took her no time to realise what those shattering noises were all about.

A faint smile of happy relief had brightened her pale face as she slowly picked up a glass of water, taking small sips from it.

Such was the power of love...!
Bondita's love for Anirudh had brought him back from death.

Her eyes had fallen on the envelope once again.

Not many are destined to such epic love stories... Stories where your lives and even deaths are intertwined with each other.

The thought had made Raimoti smile, as her hands caressed the red heart-shaped cutout on the sealed envelope.
Although aware of the indecency of reading someone else's love letter, Raimoti's hopelessly romantic heart couldn't resist the temptation of tearing the seal, as a bunch of papers came out from inside, with a fine blue ribbon, tied neatly around them.

Raimoti pulled the ribbon slowly skimming through the paper that was used as a top cover.

'My dearest Bondita,

Do you remember the last time you wished me to accompany you to Darjeeling, and I couldn't?
Five years ago, I know...
I couldn't go that day as I was scared, I was scared that I may lose myself in your love, that I may fail to keep my own promises, the promises that I had made to myself.
But, Bondita, every day since that day, I have only wondered how it would have been, to go with you... to Darjeeling!

And now, as I can feel our love maturing, as I can see our hearts uniting, a little everyday, my love struck heart can't stop but wonder, if we can relive those moments?
The moments that we have missed...
The moments that were meant for us...

Would you come to Darjeeling with me?
Once again...
Only you and me... and the vast mountains, promising to be the witnesses of our love.
And till then, I wish you rest my head in your bosoms, and as your hands would work through my hair, we would plan the trip together...
Your vision, and my execution.'

Raimoti felt her heart twitch at the sweetness pouring from the words.
She smiled and wiped tears from her foggy large eyes, focusing on the next words written in a bracket.

'( Bondita, I've written a poem for you...
A love poem... But you have to work a little to read it!
Hold the paper under a lampshade... And please DONT DISAPPOINT ME!)

The strange request had intrigued Raimoti.
What was there to disappoint in reading a poem?

And, what had intrigued her more was the smell of poetry that the letter promised. She had lost everything, and it was probably her love for poetry that had keep her alive, even in the hardest of times.
She drew the curtains of the room, making it dark, as she switched on the table lamp and held the letter under it.

Nothing major happened on the first few minutes, but slowly, the yellow electric light of the lamp, as if magically, gave birth to words, turning into sentences, and Raimoti's hands shook in an unfathomable anxiety as she saw her name written clearly in the address.

'Dear Raimoti,
If you are reading this, it means the envelope has reached to your father... And, as per my calculations, instead of him, you are the one who has received it.
I haven't have the opportunity of knowing you well Raimoti, but whatever little interactions we had, I know you are an honest soul, a righteous one with a heart that still cries for our motherland.
Let that heart never betray you Raimoti.
Along with this letter, you'll find the evidences that would testify against all the wrongdoings of your father.
He killed innocent men Rai... He sold our loyalty!
I know it's tough to go against your kin, but think about those innumerable country men who are looking upto YOU, to take the right decision.
Aren't they your kin as well?

Read the documents under the lamp, and destroy them immediately.
These should never reach to your father!!
(I knew he would never be interested in reading my 'Love Poem')

I had no other way of reaching you but this.
Take an informed decision Raimoti. I don't know whether I'll be alive to lead the final hearing of the case or not. But, in either way, your testimony at the court would be invaluable.

Do right by yourself, do right by your country, do right by your conscience.

Inquilab zindabad '

The letter had ended, without an undersigned, as Raimoti sank down on the floor once again, her choked emotions had suddenly found an outburst, she cried out loud and shouted in vexation, trying to release the pain nesting inside her heart.

No words came out, just agonizing grunts, and cries...
And Raimoti crumpled the letter in her fist, her eyes flooding tears and her lips muttering one soft inaudible sound...

Inquilab Zinda....