Forget Me Not, Stranger

by Novoneel Chakraborty

  ‘Hi,’ the girl said as the servant brought her close to Rivanah.

  ‘Hi. I’m Rivanah Bannerjee. I stay—’

  ‘I know. I’m Advika,’ the girl interrupted. Her words came out slurry.

  And what’s your relation with Nivan? Rivanah thought, but said, ‘Nice to meet you,’ extending her right hand. Instead of the right, Advika lifted her left hand saying, ‘I’m sorry, Rivanah, my right side doesn’t function.’

  ‘Oh!’ Rivanah looked at her, pulling back her hand slightly, but Advika’s left hand grasped it. It was unusually warm. They shook hands.

  ‘Actually, I found this in my house.’ She showed her the bowl and continued, ‘I have no idea how it got there.’

  Advika smiled, eyeing the servant, and said, ‘I’d asked her to send some for you.’

  ‘But—’ Rivanah started but was cut short again.

  ‘I love cooking. But now I can’t do so myself; I only get to supervise. Is it any good?’ Advika said.

  ‘It is awesome. Just the way my mother prepares it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You stay alone here?’ Rivanah asked.

  ‘Not alone. Nivan stays with me.’

  ‘Oh, yes. That was so silly of me to ask,’ Rivanah said awkwardly.

  ‘Nivan told me about you though.’

  ‘He did?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘The way you made him dance at the office party. I would’ve loved to witness it in person.’

  Rivanah desperately wanted to disappear into thin air.

  ‘Trust me, I’ve known Nivan for a long time. And I’m yet to see him dance. You must be some girl to have made it possible.’

  Yeah, some girl I’m! Someone with no limits to her stupidity, Rivanah thought.

  ‘Thank you,’ Advika said.

  ‘Huh?’ Rivanah wasn’t prepared for it.

  ‘Thank you for making Nivan happy. Of late, he’s been quite stressed. He seldom shares his problems with me. But since that dancing incident, he has been happy. I can feel it. And I’m sure you are the reason for it.’

  I am? I can’t be the reason for my own happiness, how can I make someone else happy? Rivanah thought and said, ‘Well, I’m sure there’s a better and more legitimate reason for him to be happy.’

  Advika was about to respond when Rivanah’s phone rang. It was her mother.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Rivanah apologized and picked up the call.

  ‘Mumma, what happened?’

  ‘It’s Baba here,’ said Mr Bannerjee in a grave tone. Rivanah stood up and went a little away from Advika so she could speak to him privately.

  ‘Baba, why do you sound so serious?’

  ‘I just came back from office, so I’m a little tired. Anyway, Mini, some office work has come up in Mumbai. Mumma and I are coming over there tomorrow. What’s your address? I misplaced the paper on which you wrote it down when you were here.’

  Sudden work in Mumbai? Something wasn’t right.

  22

  Rivanah took her leave from Advika soon after the phone call. She couldn’t sleep properly that night. There were too many questions haunting her. Was her parents’ sudden visit actually because of office work? Or were they coming to check on her? Also, what would she tell them about Danny? She’d never told them she was living with him in the first place. And now she won’t have to, but should she come out clean about her relationship with him, even if it was a thing of the past now?

  Upon their arrival, Mr and Mrs Bannerjee’s first impression of their daughter’s new place was good. But they were not in favour of the fact that she was living alone.

  ‘What if you fall sick? There should be one roommate at least,’ Mrs Bannerjee said.

  ‘Your mother is right, Mini,’ Mr Bannerjee chipped in, making himself comfortable on the sofa. He was happy there weren’t any of those horrible bean bags in sight that he so greatly despised. ‘I have spread the word. Someone will join me soon,’ Rivanah lied while serving her parents water.

  ‘Which branch will you have to go to, Baba?’ Rivanah asked, trying to figure out if there really was any office work.

  ‘Wait, I have to show you something,’ Mr Bannerjee said and brought out a newspaper from his bag. Why was he evading my question? Rivanah wondered, as he opened the newspaper’s entertainment supplement. He pointed at a particular picture and gave the supplement to Rivanah.

  ‘See.’

  She took it from him with a frown. It didn’t take long for her to identify Danny in the photograph. He was with three girls and two boys. The photograph was part of a feature whose headline read ‘Newbies in Bollywood’. She took half a minute to go through the article. It was the first unofficial announcement of the movie Danny was doing. Finally he has made it, she thought. Just when she was out of his life.

  ‘Don’t tell me, Baba, you guys came to Mumbai for this?’ Rivanah said.

  ‘Of course not. But it’s good to know that Danny’s movie will be coming out soon,’ Mr Bannerjee said.

  Rivanah glanced at her mother who beamed at her as if she was happy that her daughter would now be allowed to marry the guy of her choice.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Rivanah said. While reading the article, she had decided it was useless to keep them in the dark.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mrs Bannerjee’s smile disappeared at once.

  ‘We broke up.’

  Mr Bannerjee threw an incredulous look at his wife and said the expected; ‘I told you!’

  Rivanah sat back on the sofa trying to shut her mind because she knew most of what was going to be said. And when it was over, Rivanah said, ‘This is what you guys wanted anyway. Why dissect it more?’

  Both Mr and Mrs Bannerjee understood their daughter had a point. Mr Bannerjee quietly went inside to change while Mrs Bannerjee came close to her daughter and asked, ‘One last question, Mini.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why did you two break up?’

  Rivanah rolled her eyes and said, ‘That’s because we stopped loving each other.’ She carried their luggage to the guest bedroom while her mother mumbled under her breath, ‘Stopped loving each other? How ridiculous!’

  When Rivanah came out of the bedroom, she saw her parents gaping at the sketch stand.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Who sketched this?’ Mr Bannerjee asked. He sounded as grave as he did on the phone when he had informed her about his Mumbai trip.

  ‘Someone who used to stay here before me.’

  ‘What?’ Mr Bannerjee said in shock.

  ‘That’s what the landlord told me. But why do you look so unconvinced? Have you seen the sketch somewhere?’

  Before Mr Bannerjee could speak, his wife spoke up, ‘How will we see the sketch before? You sketched it in Kolkata also, so your baba must have thought—’

  ‘What? I sketched this in Kolkata? When?’ Rivanah said, looking at her parents. She noticed her father shooting an angry glance at her mother as if she had crossed a line, and then he said, ‘Not exactly this, but you used to sketch facial portraits during your schooldays.’

  There was an awkward silence in the room for some time.

  ‘Is this our room?’ Mr Bannerjee asked.

  ‘No. This is mine. Yours is the other one. I have kept the luggage inside.’

  ‘Good. And you shouldn’t keep other people’s stuff with you. It’s not good manners,’ Mr Bannerjee said, pointing to the sketch one last time, and then went away.

  ‘Your baba is right.’ Mrs Bannerjee came to her daughter and grasped her hand. ‘One can’t trust anyone or anything.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Mumma? It’s just a sketch stand for God’s sake. Anyway, I’m going to take a bath now and then I have to rush to office. Everything is in the kitchen, Mumma. By the way, when do you have to go to office, Baba?’ Rivanah wanted an answer.

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ Mr Bannerjee said, unlocking his suitcase and averting his eyes.

  ‘Baba, look at me,�
� Rivanah said. ‘There’s no office work, right?’

  Mr Bannerjee looked down at the suitcase making the answer evident.

  ‘Can’t we come to just see you, Mini?’ Mrs Bannerjee joined them in the bedroom.

  ‘Of course, Mumma, you can. Any time. But what’s the reason to lie?’

  ‘We thought you may ask us to delay the visit if we were coming only to see you,’ Mrs Bannerjee said.

  ‘Okay, whatever. You guys take rest now,’ she said and went to take a bath.

  Rivanah reached her office and immediately messaged the Stranger: Is the question you wanted me to ask myself and my parents’ Mumbai visit connected?

  The Stranger’s response made Rivanah’s heart skip a beat: Very much.

  Rivanah couldn’t believe the fact that her own parents were probably part of something sinister. Did they know who the Stranger was? Her fingers trembled as she typed a message back: How are the two connected?

  I shall only provide you with the dots. You’ll have to draw the line yourself, Mini.

  Damn! She was frustrated about the whole thing. And scared too, knowing her parents were hiding something on which perhaps two of the biggest questions in her life depended: one, what connected her to Hiya Chowdhury, and two, who the hell was this Stranger? A direct confrontation with her parents on this, she now knew, wouldn’t fetch the kind of results she wanted. Rivanah kept pondering over this all day. In between, she checked Danny’s Facebook profile. As expected, the Add as a Friend button showed up. She had been ousted from there too. If that’s what you want, Danny, she thought and logged out.

  Rivanah received a call from Sadhu Ram inquiring if anything untoward had happened after they had caught Argho at Bungalow 9. Rivanah informed him she would like to take the complaint back, realizing the Stranger puzzle wasn’t going to end with the help of police. In fact, it would only become more complicated. She would have to solve it on her own. If at all it is solvable, she thought.

  In the evening, when Rivanah reached her place, she ran into Nivan taking a stroll with Xeno in the society premises.

  ‘You came early?’ Rivanah said, kneeling down to pat Xeno on the head.

  ‘I was in Bangalore for a meeting. Came a few hours back. How is it going?’

  ‘All good.’

  ‘I’m sure. I heard your parents are here,’ she heard Nivan say.

  ‘Oh yes, they are.’

  ‘Nice. See you around,’ he said and pulled Xeno away. He had taken a couple of steps when Rivanah rushed to him.

  ‘Do you, by any chance, remember who your last tenant was?’ Rivanah asked.

  ‘Well, it was a guy.’

  ‘Okay.’ Rivanah’s hair on her nape rose. Was it the Stranger?

  ‘What did he look like?’ Rivanah asked, anxious.

  ‘Don’t mind me asking, but what’s up? Is there any problem?’

  Rivanah immediately realized her mistake. ‘I’m sorry I’m being rude,’ she said and tried to act all normal. ‘My father saw the sketch stand and wanted me to return it to the person who left it there since he doesn’t like to use other people’s things.’

  ‘To be honest, it has been some time the guy lived here. And I was in the US at that time. I don’t really remember him clearly. But I think if he left the sketch stand here, it must mean it wasn’t important to him or else he would have come back.’

  Makes sense, Rivanah thought.

  ‘If you want I can get it removed.’

  ‘It’s okay. It’s a sketch stand, after all. Not a time bomb.’ Rivanah managed a smile. Nivan too smiled back. He finally walked away with Xeno while Rivanah entered the building. By the time she reached the sixteenth floor, she had an idea—as the Stranger had said— to join the dots.

  Rivanah remained quiet all through dinner. She told her parents she had had a long day in office and would retire early. She waited for her parents to sleep, after which she tiptoed into their room. She looked around and soon found her father’s phone on the bedside table. It was an old phone without any password protection. She quickly unlocked it and went to Contacts and scrolled down. Rivanah sighed in relief, seeing what she was hoping for: Manick Dutta’s phone number. She typed a message to him: It was nice to meet you the other day. Hope you are doing fine.

  Rivanah sent it, praying that Mr Dutta was awake. It was only 10.45 p.m., after all. Not everyone slept early like her parents. Putting the phone on mute, she waited impatiently for a response. Her father turned around in his sleep. Rivanah froze. She had an excuse ready: if any of the two woke up, she would tell them she had come to look for a hairclip. But neither woke up.

  Two minutes later, a message came in from Mr Dutta: The pleasure is mine. It was indeed nice to meet you and family the other day. I hope Rivanah is all right.

  She is fine. Thank you. Rivanah messaged back, now certain that the visit to Mr Dutta’s house wasn’t a dream as she was made to believe by her parents. But why? What happened at Mr Manick Dutta’s place which had to be kept a secret from me by my own parents? Rivanah deleted all the messages and put the phone back on the side table.

  23

  ‘Is there anything that you are hiding from us, Mini?’ Mr Bannerjee asked.

  It was next morning. The three were at the dining table having breakfast. Mr Bannerjee was reading the Economic Times while Mrs Bannerjee was leafing through the entertainment section. She glanced at her husband and then at her daughter, anticipating a response from the latter.

  The word ‘hiding’ made Rivanah look up for the first time since she had joined her parents for breakfast. She couldn’t sleep after reading Mr Dutta’s message. What was it her parents were hiding from her? Why would her own parents hide anything from her in the first place? And now her father was asking her what she was hiding?

  ‘Nothing, why?’ she said.

  ‘You seem lost. Didn’t you sleep well?’

  ‘Office pressure,’ she said and noticed her parents exchanging looks. This exchange of looks, Rivanah surmised, has happened too many times since they came here.

  ‘Don’t let your health get affected, shona,’ Mrs Bannerjee said. They resumed eating in silence.

  ‘I’ll get ready for office.’ Rivanah went to her room after breakfast, while Mrs Bannerjee cleared the table and took the leftovers back to the kitchen. Just then, Mr Bannerjee heard two screams—one came from the bedroom and the other from the kitchen. Mr Bannerjee didn’t know where to go. He scampered to the kitchen and realized his wife was standing with her hands on her hips while the washbasin tap was flowing with full gusto.

  ‘Why don’t you close the tap? You are wasting water.’

  ‘It won’t close.’

  Mr Bannerjee came to inspect the tap and splashed water all over him in the process. He understood the knot in the tap had become loose.

  ‘Why did you open it so hard?’ he asked, irritated. ‘We have to bring a plumber for this.’

  Rivanah dashed into the kitchen, asking, ‘Where did you put the sketch, Mumma? Why isn’t it there on the sketch stand?’

  ‘I just kept it—’

  ‘And what’s this?’ Rivanah asked, gaping at the water gushing out of the tap. Her father had tied a piece of cloth over the tap, controlling the force of the water somewhat.

  ‘Call a plumber, Mini,’ Mr Bannerjee said.

  ‘I have no idea where from. Wait, let me ask Nivan.’

  ‘Who is Nivan?’ Mrs Bannerjee was instantly curious.

  ‘My landlord,’ Rivanah said and left the kitchen.

  Nivan answered the doorbell. He was in a tee and shorts, coffee mug in hand.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘Hi,’ she replied, while trying hard not to register the boyish charm he exuded. She failed miserably.

  ‘Do you know a plumber around here? The kitchen tap has gone bonkers.’

  ‘Oh.’ Nivan kept the coffee mug on the wooden shoe rack and came out of the flat.

  ‘Let me check.’

  ‘A
plumber would do actually,’ Rivanah said, feeling embarrassed about her senior trying a role shift.

  ‘It’s okay.’

  Rivanah reluctantly led him inside the flat and into the kitchen where her parents were still fidgeting with the tap. Rivanah made a quick introduction as Nivan went towards the kitchen window, opened it completely and stretched his hand out.

  ‘Its main knob is outside,’ he said and the water stopped immediately. Nivan drew his hand in and said, ‘I shall send the plumber in some time.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Mr Nivan . . .’ Mr Bannerjee was fetching for a surname and Rivanah knew exactly why.

  ‘Mallick. Nivan Mallick.’

  ‘It is nice to meet you, Mr Mallick.’

  ‘Same here, sir,’ Nivan said.

  ‘Thanks for taking such good care of my daughter. She told me everything,’ he said with a smile. Though it was a lie—she told me everything— Rivanah knew where the discussion was heading and wanted to stop her father right there but couldn’t.

  ‘Your daughter deserves every bit of it.’

  ‘Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight if it’s not much of a problem?’

  There! She knew it.

  ‘Baba, he is a busy man.’ Rivanah had to barge in now.

  ‘Why, don’t busy people have dinner?’ he said and laughed, aptly joined by his wife.

  ‘I would love to. I love Bong food.’ Nivan said.

  ‘Khoob bhalo! Then at 9 tonight?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Rivanah escorted Nivan to the main door and shut it after him. She was about to rush to the kitchen but she noticed her parents were already in the drawing room.

  ‘Very nice boy,’ Mr Bannerjee said.

  ‘Shotti!’ Mrs Bannerjee confirmed her husband’s sentiments.

  ‘He is my senior in office, Baba.’

  ‘Senior? What’s his designation?’

  ‘VP, sales.’

  ‘VP? This is even better. At such a young age. He must be what, 28–29? Max 30. A real achiever indeed. He must have good genes.’