"Hey Ma, let me come in," said Suman, folding his hands in a respectful namaskar to Anikadevi. But she remained still like a stone statue.
She was burning with the urge to lash out at him—for the injustice he had done to her daughter. The fear she had felt earlier had now vanished, replaced by intense hatred. She wanted to curse Suman—the one who had plunged her child's present, and even future, into darkness.
Ambika was stunned by her mother's behavior and gave her hand a sharp tug.
Suman too seemed uneasy and cleared his throat before saying, "I think I'll leave for today. I'll come some other time."
Anikadevi came back to her senses and said, "No, no, come inside."
They went inside and sat in the dining room. She said, "You two chat, I'll go bring some snacks."
Without giving Suman a chance to object, she disappeared into the house.
Her mind was filled with only one worry—what if Amba came out now?
Meanwhile, Ambika and Suman continued talking.
"You know," Suman said, "this street of yours, your house, even your mother—all seem very familiar to me."
"Our house probably feels familiar because it has an old-fashioned look. And you might've seen my mom around. My sister also studied there. She was four years your junior, but you all still invite her to the college fest sometimes."
Ambika was about to say more, but Suman interrupted, "Your sister studied at that college?"
Ambika nodded, "Yes, she did. She was an excellent student."
Suman asked, "What did you say your sister's name was again, Amba? The name sounds so familiar but I can't quite recall."
Before the conversation could go any further, Suman's phone rang. Looking at the screen, he said, "Oh no, it's Mom." He answered the call.
From inside, Anikadevi came back with tea and some snacks. But Suman only sipped the tea, as if that was all he had been waiting for.
Finishing his tea, he said, "I'll take your leave, Auntie. I'll come by another time."
---
After Suman left, Ambika freshened up and returned to her room to find Amba sitting there.
"Didi, you're here?"
"Hm. Why? Can't I come?"
"Of course you can," Ambika replied.
Amba asked calmly, "Then what's the matter?"
Ambika said, "Is something wrong, Didi? You seem upset."
Amba replied, "No, I'm not angry. I just came to chat with you. So what did your senior say?"
Ambika, a bit surprised, asked, "Who told you that Suman da was here? Must've been Ma, right?"
Amba said "Hmm" aloud, but in her mind she thought, Prada—the scent I used to get lost in.
Ambika said, "Isn't it strange? Yesterday I spoke to a guy named Suman on the phone, and today Suman da shows up. Where are all these guys with the same name suddenly coming from?"
Amba replied, "Is it just the same name—or the same person?"
Ambika: "What are you saying, Didi? Only you would know that. The call came to your phone yesterday. And I took it without you saying a word! Didn't you notice? You were awake for a long time afterward—I saw the light in your room. I don't even lock my room when I sleep, so why didn't you come take it back?"
Amba said, "If my body were like before, I wouldn't be stuck inside this house."
Ambika's mood suddenly turned gloomy again.
It was true—since her sister's health had declined, she often couldn't even get up from bed. Her hair was done—Malti di must've helped her. Malti di also slept beside her at night.
With a soft, guilty voice, Ambika said, "Please don't misunderstand me, Didi." She hugged her sister and said, "I never meant to hurt you."
Amba knew that her sister could fight ten people for her. But she would never intentionally hurt her.
And if she found out that Amba's pain was because of that very Suman—then who knows what Ambika might do to him.
Snapping her fingers in front of Amba's face, Ambika said, "Okay, Didi, what are you even thinking? Is it about Adrit da?"
Amba silently smiled to herself.
---
Ambika then drifted off into her thoughts.
Amba asked, "What are you thinking about?"
Ambika replied, "Nothing… just a few doubts."
Amba asked, "What doubts?"
Ambika said, "Why do you think the Suman I spoke to on the phone is the same person as our college senior? Oh wait—you studied in that college too. Do you know Suman da?"
At this point, she began to wonder:
Even if it's true, the question remains—Suman da was looking for someone named 'Mon' on the phone. And he was so sure the number belonged to that person. What does that mean? Everything is getting so confusing, isn't it?
Hearing this, Amba fell silent. What could she possibly say in response?