"Bell... The bell is ringing... Stop it... Stop it...!"

The room reeked of pungent antiseptics and heartfelt concerns. The long grey curtains were drawn, the lantern was turned brighter, and inside the room, on the bed, sat Bondita, her soft gentle hands tending to the old man she cared so dearly.
Trilochan Roy Chowdhury had suffered a mishap that night, a sudden accident inside his own bedroom, and the blood loss from his crown had made the veteran doctor Prantik Pramanik frown in concern.
Seven stitches, a bottle of blood, along with heavy dosage of painkillers, and before Dr. Pramanik left, he left a word was caution into Anirudh's ears.

Any sort of anxiety, and it could turn out to be fatal.

Needless to say, Anirudh shivered like a pale autumn leaf, scared to face the nature's cycle at any cost.

The events following the discovery of Trilochan's bloodied condition took place like a fast-forwarded journey through time. Anirudh had picked him up to the bed, cradling him in his arms like a baby, and Bondita had tore her saree immediately to wrap it around the fractured wound. Bhargavi was there too, and in no time she had raised an alarm in the entire household, readying the house helps with hot water compress and basic home remedies.
Koeli was crying at the door, crutching baby Rudhi in her arms, and Bihari had drove to fetch Dr. Pramanik at a blink's time.
The three hours journey from Calcutta to Tulsipur was covered in no time, and as the doctor examined the old unconscious man, his grey eyebrows had a frown of worry.

"He blacked out it seems! The pulse rate is abnormally high!"

"What does this mean Daktar Jethu?"
Bondita had asked with a tear soaked voice, trembling, and the old doctor exhaled a sigh and nodded his head.

"I can't tell for sure... Not until he wakes up. A shock, or may be a mild stoke!"

No more questions were asked, and as Bondita sobbed silently beside the soporose old man, a gentle hand of faith and compassion touched her shoulder from behind...
Bhargavi!

It was at the deepest of the night. Anirudh was seated on a chair by his uncle's bedside, his wife still on the bed, tending the patient's head, and by the feet sat Bhargavi, quiet, and thoughtful, yet everready to be useful in anyway needed.
Trilochan hadn't opened his eyes, but suddenly his dry lips parted in some subconscious anxiety.

"The bell... It's... It's ringing... Stop... Stop the Bell... Please... Stop...!"

Deliriums...

At first they were a slurry murmurings, and then suddenly Trilochan Roy Chowdhury opened his eyes, the gaze vacant, and he looked at Bondita leaning over his face. He held her wrist firmly at once.

"My daughter... My... My daughter..."
He murmured.

Jets of controllable tears rolled down Bondita's eyes as she immediately touched her uncle-in-law's forehead with utmost tenderness.
Anirudh too had gotten up from the chair, now bending over his uncle with a concerned furrow on his brows.

"Yes... Yes Kaka... Bondita is here... Your daughter... She's here Kaka..." Anirudh held the old man's hand and tried to pacify him, but his blank eyes that stared back at him refused to acknowledge any acquaintance with the eyes looking back.

"Kaka.." Anirudh's voice broke.

"My daughter... My... My daughter is dead!"
Trilochan murmured again, before closing his eyes, and both Anirudh and Bondita saw in horrified astonishment as a drop of tear rolled down the old man's eyes.

"Naa... Naa Kaka... Bondita is right here... See... She's.." Anirudh spoke again, caressing his uncle's arms and Trilochan opened his eyes slowly.

"My daughter... Maya... And she's dead too... I couldn't even see..."
The words were a faint cry, and Anirudh saw how his uncle's throat vibrated with the suppressed agony of the words.

Bondita was crying profusely at the sight

"No one is dead Kaka... We all here here...We all..."
Anirudh kept muttered words of assurance, his fingers very carefully brushing on Trilochan's salt and pepper hair, and as Bondita held a spoon to his lips to feed him some water, Trilochan looked at her and sighed.

"Ask them to stop the Bell... please!" He swallowed hard, "I'm not dead, not yet..." He turned his head to the other side and looked at Anirudh.
"But, she's dead... She's...."

"Who Kaka?"
Bondita mouthed the question to his ears, and Trilochan closed his eyelids once again and breathed out loud.

"My wife!"
He exhaled.

The words were slurry, yet clear, and it was enough to run a sharp chill of fear down both Anirudh and Bondita's spine. He quickly exchanged a worrying glance with his horrified sobbing wife, as both of them looked back at the old man with teary gazes and frowned forehead.
Only Bhargavi looked restless.

Wife? Daughter? Death?

What's even his dear uncle talking about!

The lantern was almost about to burn out, and at dawn when Anirudh had gone out to telephone Dr. Prantik Pramanik, Bondita carefully drew the sheet up to Trilochan's body and looked at Bhargavi.

"Do you wish to say something?" She asked her softly, and the suppressed words brewing inside the girl found words at once.

"Umm... He said Maya..." she paused and looked at Bondita. "I think he's talking about Mahamaya... I mean Choto Boumoni."
She swallowed.

"Choto Boumoni?" It was time for Bondita to gasp out loud.
"And who might that be?"
Her face had a clear flinch on it.

"Umm... The one Choto Babu got engaged too. Boro Zamindar Babu himself blessed them... Maha Boumoni has gone to Dhaka with Choto Babu, and..."

"And?"

"Mira Didi."

No more words were exchanged.
A thousand of questions clouded Bondita's mind, but she knew it wasn't the right moment to seek them.
She clearly remembered Batuk attending the trial at court, speaking to her about a hundred things, and then he had met them before heading for Faridpur, to find Mira's son.
Then who on earth was Mayamaya?

Letting out a deep sigh, Bondita slowly left the patient's bedside and headed towards the bathroom... It was perhaps a few hours left for the night to end, and Bondita knew she had a long day ahead.

Trilochan slept.
Only Bhargavi stayed by his feet, her eyes sleepless, her mind racing...

Wife! He said wife!

And, then, slowly, she took out the sepia polaroid from under a pillow, the photograph that she had found soaked in the Zamindar's blood.
The exquisitely beautiful lady in it was still smiling brightly at her, her hairs long, and wavey... And her eyes... Well, there was something very strange about those eyes, and Bhargavi knew whatever they were, they definitely weren't black like hers!

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

"Shame on you... Thooh!"

Shashi Chandra Chatterjee literally spat on the young lawyer Prabir, and the later didn't even attempt to move in anyway. He let the spit fall on his crumpled grey shirt, as by now this was a everyday thing that he had made himself accustomed to.

"Give me two more days Raibahadur Saheb... Just two days... I'll get him to sign... I'll do..." Prabir pleaded calmly, his eyes lowered, and his hands folded in a submission of slavery.

Shashi Chandra glared at him.
He was pinning the gold buttons to his freshly ironed new wedding kurta, his old accountant, Khajanchi Mitra Babu was hunching at his feet, pleating his dhoti with meticulous perfection.

"The boy is useless, I'd tell you." Mitra Babu passed a remark as he again busied himself with the drape.
Shashi Chandra pursed his lips.

"Two days you said? Well, I'm giving you three days Pobir Chandor. Three days, and then you die." He hissed at him with fire in his eyes as his cruel snake-like intent let out a hissy chuckle.

"I'll go for my Fulsojjo with the good news, you understand!"
He spat again.

"Fulsojja?" Khajanchi Mitra looked at him with a gaping mouth.
"That's day after tomorrow! Not after three days."

Shashi Chandra gritted his teeth at him for a second, and then laughed out loud. The sharp shift of expression felt unsettling to both the men staring at him.
Shashi Chandra spoke in a hush.
"When I say it's after three days, it has to be after three days Khajanchi. Day after tomorrow Bhromor Bai from Kashi would reach here... She'd sing for me, she'd dance and me, and then she'll..." He winked his eyes distastefully before licking his betel strained lower lips with lust. Khajanchi's orbs sparked at the mention and Prabir lowered his gaze.

Shashi Chandra turned towards the mirror.
"How on earth did you think I'll keep Bhromor Bai waiting to spend my stupid Fulsojjo with this new bride?" He huffed the words and moved a few steps back, dismissing Mitra Babu.

"But had it been Raimoti Mukherjee, then the scene would have been different... Really different..." He grinned evilly at the men standing near and let out a sharp exhale.
"What can I say Khajanchi Babu... That woman had a face of Urbashi, and a body of Menoka... How I wish I could..."

He just swallowed, let out a sigh of unrequited lust, the unholy glints in his eyes clearly reflecting how he envisioned Raimoti's nakedness, dreaming of crushing her underneath him.

"What if... What if I find her for you instead?"
Prabir suddenly murmured, and Shashi Chandra looked at him through the mirror.
"What if..." Prabir looked as if in a trance, a trance of survival.

"Then I'd spare your life."
Shashi Chandra smirked.