The whiskey was the amber that had brought resolve to his inebriated soul. With the alcohol in his system, Anirudh Roy Chowdhury felt his rational senses go into standby mode letting his primitive self put on its party shoes for a moment. Had it been any normal day, his own impulsive behaviour would have dragged him down the alley of embarassment, making him go into a self criticism mode, but that particular morning was different. It is said that when the higher brain is incapacitated there is a degree of being drunk, and this can happen through alcohol, fear or tiredness. Barrister Roy Chowdhury felt all these at the same time... the fear to lose his wife's confidence, pushing her further away from him, and his tired thoughts made his possessive soul cling to the idea of avenging her insult.
Anirudh wanted to make Bondita understand the importance of faith in their relationship, and he himself was prepared to teach her the same first-hand. But at the same time, his mind nudged him continually to stand up to the humiliation that she had to face because of Candice's vile intentions. And, somehow that very thought of righting the wrongs had guided his intoxicated steps that morning to the gate of his old friend, Paul Davidson.

It was past nine in the morning when Anirudh had finally returned back to the Great Eastern Hotel. Post leaving the police banglow, he had gone to their old mansion in central Calcutta to supervise the renovation work.
'How long can one stay in a hotel with family!'
He had repeatedly blurted the question to the masons with his characteristics smile, urging them to expedite the process... all under the influence of alcohol. He had felt hungry too, and the freshly fried singara from Gobindo's roadside stall looked mouthwatering. But when he sat down to eat them, the first grub reminded him of Bondita's tear-strained face.

"Gobindo da, pack these please... My wife loves singara!" He had grinned awkwardly.

The usual clamour of guests, at the reception of the Great Eastern Hotel, checking in and out, was a little moderate that morning. Anirudh entered the lobby and was greeted by the manager cordially.

"Sir, madam booked a phaeton car this morning... I've added it to the tab."

Anirudh narrowed his eyes at the information.
"Phaeton car? To where? And when did she leave?"
He asked, and the manager bowed down a little and went behind the reception desk to check his blue entry register.

"About an hour ago Sir, the place... um... Hindu College."

The frown on Anirudh's forehead was at once replaced by an expression of some sudden revelation.
"Monday! Damn! It's her examination day!"
He almost gasped out loud, as with large steps he walked towards the suite they had occupied.
Two attendants were busy with the room service inside, and as he entered, one of them smiled courteously at him, handing him a small chit from the bedside table.

Anirudh's face fell at the sight.
Just one line. No prelude no undersign, but just a line.

'Going to college. Exam starts today', it said.

Human emotions are perfect the strangest intangibles on earth. The man who had spent an entire night submerged in alcohol, self battling with how cruelly his wife had rebuked his love and devotion, and how she should learn to respect his sense of undisputed loyalty, now suddenly felt powerless and eager with just one single sentenced note. Bondita had gone to the college, after a considerable amount of break, to write her first examination, and yet he wasn't there beside her to support her morally!
Wasn't her education the most important thing in his life?
Didn't all start from his immovable zeal to educate her in the first place?

Anirudh let out a sharp sigh and handed a green paper currency to one of the attendants, tipping him for the service, and as the man closed the door behind him, Anirudh stretched himself straight on the sofa and closed his eyes, contemplating his next course of action.

Should he just follow her to the college?
No, he should probably wait, and calm down first...
And... and, perhaps another bath...

Anirudh knew Bondita was hurt, probably more than he was at that moment, and somehow he could clearly feel her pain now transcended to his heart too. He thought about what all she had suffered within such a short span of time. First, his attack and ailment, then the brutal bombardment of their beautiful abode followed by days on road in hiding.
The final nail on the coffin was probably Candice.
How could he then just blame her outburst!
Anirudh sighed at the thoughts.

His head suddenly felt heavier, and the body lighter than its meant to be, the alcohol somehow finding a way to mess with his formidable senses, yet as his reluctant eyes fell on the bunch of unopened, unread envelopes that Batuk had given him, laying bundled on the small tea table infront, he lazily picked them up and started to skim through them one by one.
Batuk mentioned securing some of them from the half burnt letter box of their Calcutta mansion, and the rest were mailed to their Tulsipur address on his name.
Anirudh narrowed his eyes as much as possible and read the sender's name on each of them, all backdated.
Few from clients, few from fellow lawyers across the country wishing him luck for the Swadeshi case. Yet one letter particularly caught his attention.
No name, no address, and instead of the usual salutation that he was accustomed it, that letter differed from it.

'Srijukto Jomidar Ray Choudhary Babu Mohashay', it read.

Could it be Kaka's then?
Why would someone write to him address as Zamindar Babu?
Not that he wasn't one, but never had anyone called him thus.

The frown on Anirudh's creased forehead grew as he turned the envelope. It read, 'Yours, a humble Well-wisher.'

A humble well-wisher? What the heck!

Anirudh tore the seal of the envelope and took out the unstamped white folded letter carefully. The handwriting was very neat, unfamiliar, and was written with absolute precision.
No scribbles, no scratches...
Anirudh skimmed through it once, his eyes widening slowly, and then he sat upright on the couch at once, spreading the letter on his lap and re-reading it again, and then as it instinctively, his jaws tightened and his fisted hand balled the letter, crumpling it with the anger brewing inside him.

"Holy hell... Bondita..."
He growled, fuming with a renewed rage.

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

"How much further Choto Zamindar Babu?"
It was the fourth time Mira asked the same question, making Batuk flinch his face and turn around.

"I don't know Mira... Do you see me carrying a map?"
He sighed noisily and turned his head infront, walking straight ahead, as Mira almost ran behind him to keep up to his speed.

"But, the man said to take the right, you took the left?"
She murmured, almost a complaint, and Batuk stopped and turned towards her completely. He kept the anonymous wooden trunk down on the mist soaked ground and placed his hands on his waist.

"The man said that there won't be any house in the next forty miles", he huffed, "he asked for money to show us the way... he also said the place is haunted... Do you think I should believe all of that?"

"No... Just the haunted part." Mira murmured, looked down and fidgeting with her fingers.
"I'm scared of ghost."

"What?"
Batuk frowned.

"Ghosts... I said I don't like them much."

"Why?"
Batuk blurted the question.

"Because they are scary... "

"Not scarier then humans Mira..." A small faint smile escaped from Batuk's lips, and he felt the genuineity of Mira's fears.
"Ghosts are dead, they are gone... Can't hurt you... But humans can."

"But..."

"But nothing... Ghosts are bogus... I sleep in morgue with dead bodies in college Mira... None have hurt me till date..." He chuckled softly, as picking up the suitcase, he started to walk ahead once again.
"Ghosts doesn't exist... So... Stop being scared."

"But..."
Mira tried to object, clearly unhappy with the idea of how her Choto Zamindar Babu had been repeatedly rebuking and underestimating the community of ghosts in general. But, at that moment, shaking of her inhibitions about his belief in the supernatural, Mira thought it to be more necessary to lift her saree a little with both hands and keep running behind him.
Uff... Such long bamboo legs!
She pouted.

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

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