Denial

The dazzling rays of the sun filled Gita’s eyes with tears. She looked on; let the tears flow down to cool her warm cheeks. She understood for some time that she was more sensitive than others around her. She was special, as gentle as the breeze, as soft as a petal, as pure as dew upon a morning glory. But no one knew, no one understood. As a child she never understood herself too well, but soon she began to mature and found it hard to resolve, to make a choice. Her mind she thought was making place for disturbed thoughts.

When she went on holidays to Amu’s house in Banaras, she often played on the rooftop with her. The regular household game was their favourite. She pretended to be the husband and Amu wife. She worked in the office while Amu stayed at home, cooking and keeping the house beautiful. She looked after the children, their two dolls, Tipu and Pipa who were naughty enough to give her a run for the day. However, Amu managed all well, fed them, taught them and kept them awake till daddy returned. The game continued with some variation for as long as the holidays lasted.  Though a dear sister, born of her paternal aunt, at some point Amu had assumed the role of her beau. As time ploughed by her affinity for Amu began to grow and Gita waited longingly for her holidays to come. Even if it were for a few days she craved to be with her, touch her, hug her and feel the softness of her body close to her. She had no clues if Amu thought of her in the same way as she did, she just wanted to believe what she did was right. At times when she pulled Amu to herself, cradling her face in her hands while fixing a soft loving gaze to her eyes and softly sliding her hands down her body, she felt Amu tremble, wanting to move away.

Soon they were in college, Gita’s parent’s lived in Delhi and it was decided that Amu would be brought to Delhi to study in JNU as the opportunities were better and both girls could study together and help each other grow.  Gita was overjoyed at the prospects of having Amu in her house, sharing the same room. She had only dreamt of this chance. Gita’s father was the Director of Health and enjoyed a huge bungalow in RK Puram. A new room was readied for Amu much to Gita’s disappointment, but having her close in the same house made up for all the sadness.  Finally, Amu arrived with her boxes of luggage. Gita helped Amu unpack. Both women were delighted to see each other. Amu excited to enter into a new world, to explore her independence and share her experiences with her sister. While Gita’s delight lay elsewhere. Just being with and around Amu made all the difference. 

One day Amu breezed onto Gita’s room.

“Di, I have to tell you something. Promise that you will keep my secret.”

Gita was in the middle of a thriller and hated to be drawn out of it. Had it been anyone else, there would have been no forgiveness but for Amu it was always different.

“Oh di, put your book away, please!”

“Okay, what is it?’

“It’s Praduymna, I am in love!”

A load as heavy as an iron block was suddenly placed on her chest; she could hardly breathe and felt as though gasping for breath, almost suffocated.

“Di, ask me about him?’

Gita glanced at Amu – trying to gauge the delight on her brightly lit face. Amu had never shown the same expression when she was with her. She felt betrayed and broken. She could hardly hide her tears from Amu as they brimmed to her eyes and overflowed though she furtively tried to fight them back, but couldn’t stop.

“What happened? Why are you crying?”

“I know you are so happy, I have grown up di...I have chosen the right person, I promise.”

“I am going to make you meet him; I bet you’ll like him.”

Amu’s relationship with Praduymna started growing and she became closer to him. Gita could feel the difference and there was no way to bring Amu back into her life without hurting her. She didn’t deny that on many occasions she had wanted to break their bond through foul means but had later reconciled, as love to her meant something greater, it meant creating not destroying. But how could she see her love being passed on to someone else? How could Amu choose someone over her? A man, she hardly knew? Often she would stroll into Amu’s room and touch her things that brought her smell, her memories back in her mind. Often she was caught by her mother who spotted Gita smelling Amu’s clothes, her jewellery and makeup in her absence.

“Something isn’t right with Gita,” she once told her husband.

“Why?”

“It’s strange; I have often thought about a certain strangeness in her behaviour since childhood, I find it resurfacing. I think we should get her married.”

“But she hasn’t completed her studies, this is her final year and if she plans for a post-graduation, why are you insisting on marriage? Girls now are bent on completing their studies and building their careers than getting married.”

“I know, I too would have liked that. But I am worried about her. She behaves strangely; I just hope she doesn’t let herself and the family name down.”

In the afternoon Gita drifts to Amu’s room in her absence. Sleeping on her bed, holding her pillow close to her bosom, she kisses it endlessly, imagining it to Amu by her side. Amu’s absence became more frequent now than ever and this feeling of being left alone troubled her greatly. Watching Gita in this state caused greater trouble to her mother.

That night on the dinner table, Alok Mukherjee, Gita’s father announced that a handsome Air force officer was coming to see Gita on prospects of marriage the next Sunday morning. Her father’s decision was one that none of the household could question. Amu was delighted, as she had always heard that people in the Forces not only stood out for their gallantry, but also for their chivalry. They were gentlemen to the core. She told Gita how happy she was and all the more glad that Gita’s marriage would open her doors to being together with Praduymna. This sounded like death knell to Gita.

Gita looked beautiful as the soft tender banana leaf coloured green cotton sari glowed against her transparent skin. Her small bindi sat pleasingly on her forehead as she sat talking to the guests in the drawing-room which was always aesthetically decorated. Gita’s passion for music which she had inherited from her mother stood witness in the gleaming tanpura that occupied a majestic space in the sitting area. The rest of the room maintained the harmony of the musical flow that poured in abundance in the Mukerjee household. The exchange of words continued when Abhrajit’s parents showed their interests in listening to the mother-daughter duos musical skills. His mother added a note or two of classical music but the trio ended up singing Rabindra Sangeet, almost five in a row. Each family was delighted by the other and soon this fondness translated to marriage between Gita and Abharajit.

Abhrajit was patient, understanding and quite loving, a feeling that Gita greatly respected. She came to terms with the fact, that what she hoped to achieve with Amu could never come true. Amu was a woman, like herself and deeply in love with a man. She did not have the same attraction for Gita. Gita, on the other hand, did not understand why she felt the same being with Amu as she had felt being with Abhrajit. She had been able to love this man like a woman, but when with Amu, she had wanted to assume the role of a man. She was unable to understand her feelings and in all these many years that she had grown, she was somewhat shy and retired. She kept herself aloof from her peers.   She had never felt the need to make friends. Being fond of reading she had built a world of her own and the only person in her confidence if at all was Amu. But now Abhra had also made himself a part of her life. But somehow she could never let him intrude in her innermost world. She continued with her love for reading and built walls around her. Her thoughts often wandered to Amu and she wondered if Amu thought of her too.

Ever since four months of her wedding, Gita had hardly seen much of her family as she knew them before marriage. Though she didn’t miss them too much, but the thought of being in the same house with Amu around pleased her. She loved having long chats with Amu, under the gulmohar tree in the garden. The two girls spread their legs on the lawn. She loved the way Amu touched her toes with hers as she spoke of different things or played 20 questions. How Amu spread her skirt to collect the windswept yellow blossoms that fell from the tree, she brushed them aside dismissively when she parted from the garden, forgotten, as if they meant nothing to her. Amu, she felt could be so detached, devoid of affection, almost impersonal, even towards her at times. There were several occasions when she tried to make Amu relate to her affections. But Amu it seemed to her, deliberately ignored. There was some reciprocation but not complete. Gita found it hard to understand and make Amu understand at the same time.

Abhra was always heartily welcomed in the Mukerjee household. Gita’s mother treated her son-in-law just as a mother would to her son. This was the first time that the two had come to stay for a stretch of four days. The Ashtomongola had been cut short as Abhra had to go on an official call. Since Abhra was posted in Delhi for the next year, Gita and Abhra often visited her parents for an hour or two. But somehow they weren’t able to manage a stay. Amu had returned early from college to help her aunt with the cooking, while Alok Mukerjee too had rushed back home to accompany the couple at lunch. The after-lunch siesta was a natural indulgence which Bengali men never missed if they found a chance. Amu and Gita took care of the cleaning and asked Ma to take rest.

“So di, how has it been? Does he love you?”

Gita felt distracted and didn’t wish to belittle her feelings for Amu by letting her into her strange rather complicated secret, that she enjoyed his company as much as she did hers.

“Oh! It’s evident he does, it shows on your face...” She laughed.

“Didn’t it when I was with you Amu?” She snapped.

“What? Di, I am your sister and he is your husband, there is a difference.”

There is no difference Amu,...these words got stuck in her throat.

“Oh di, talk to Mamu about Pradyumn. I too wish to get married.”

”Me, how can I talk of your marriage?”

“I know you’re just as afraid of Mamu as I am. Then Maima?’

“No, I can’t.”

“Oh! Di, you can’t be like this, please?”

”How can you be married?”

“I am in my final year, I will do my PG later after marriage, you’re doing the same.”

“Pradyumn, may not be a good guy, infact I am quite sure he isn’t.”

“Why di?”

“Stay like this Amu, my little Amu, be mine, just like old times...just like when we were kids, you and I..Don’t you remember?’

Gita cupped Amu’s face in her hands, she stood still. That old feeling of fear crept back in Amu. She held on tightly to the table as she watched her sisters’ expressions changing from one of passion to deep desire. She could never understand as a child, but now she had grown. The shock was terrible. All this while whom she had treated with reverence had in fact thought of her as an object of craving. She could never understand why Gita’s looks turned longingly at hers when they both were together. Her thoughts took her back to her childhood days, when Gita acted her husband. How she kissed on her lips, Amu found it uncomfortable, but overlooked as the attraction of play proved stronger. Sometimes Gita’s hands slowly drifted on her growing breasts and that greatly infuriated her as she threw them away from her body. Gita’s touch always brought back these discomforting memories vividly. Again the same feeling seemed to return. Amu could feel herself shivering as Gita was moving her hands neck downwards and resting them on her fully rounded breasts. For years she had longed to caress them and here she was making love to her first love...

“Gita!”

The voice struck like thunder!

Both Gita and Amu came out of their trance, only to witness, Abhra standing at a distance.

Amu ran away, in tears, trembling and shocked to see this form in her sister’s behaviour.

While Gita stood staring blankly at Abhra...

All Gita remembered after waking from a long sedation inflicted sleep, is for some reason she had dishevelled all arrangements in her life. Her role of acceptance in both families had reached its summit. She had lost both her loves; her own foolishness had let her deepest secrets out. She rose from her bed, there was quietness all around. She opened the door of her veranda ...She had slept alone in her bed. Abhra must have left yesterday leaving her alone for the rest of her life. And Amu? Was she still in the house or had she been packed off to Banaras? Tears welled out of her eyes. Why is love such a punishment? Why couldn’t she love Amu and Abhra in the same way and be accepted. For her there was no wrong. She had only loved; her feelings were pure, just like the pure morning light which bathed her. Her love for both was pure. But the world didn’t understand, they never will!