And it was service worthy of its name. There was not a moment’s rest for her. Every chore was executed perfectly, meals were cooked to perfection and there was such lovely, gracious conversation.

Rajlakshmi would say, ‘It’s late my child, why don’t you go and have some lunch?’

Binodini wouldn’t hear of it. She didn’t leave before she fanned her aunt to sleep.

Rajlakshmi said, ‘But you’ll fall ill, my child.’

But Binodini showed the least concern for her own health and said, ‘Unfortunate souls like us don’t fall ill, Aunty. You have come to your home after so many years—I have nothing here with which to care for you properly.’

Behari, meanwhile, became the local expert in a couple of days. Some came to consult him for their illnesses while others came to seek his advice on legal matters. If someone sought him out to find a good job for his son, someone else brought an application for him to fill out. He mingled with everyone with his intuitive curiosity and concern, be it the geriatric band of card players or the drinking group of the lower castes. No one resented him and he was welcome everywhere.

Binodini did her best to lighten the burden on this city-bred youth who was unfortunate enough to have landed in this godforsaken place. Every time Behari came back from his rounds, he found his room cleaned up, a bunch of flowers placed by his bed in a brass tumbler and Bankim and Dinabandhu’s works neatly placed on his bedside table. On the inside covers of the books Binodini’s name was inscribed in a feminine but firm hand.

There was a distinction between this kind of solicitude and the kind one normally encountered in a village. When Behari mentioned this to Rajlakshmi she said, ‘And this is the girl both of you turned down.’

Behari laughed and said, ‘It wasn’t wise, Mother, we have been fools. But it s better to be fooled by not marrying than to be fooled by marrying.’

The thought churning in Rajlakshmi’s mind was, ‘This girl could have been my daughter-in-law. Why didn’t it happen?’

If Rajlakshmi so much as mentioned going back to Kolkata, Binodini’s eyes brimmed with tears and she said, ‘Aunty, why did you have to come for a couple of days? When I didn’t know you, my days passed somehow or other. Now, how will I live without you?’

Overwhelmed with emotion, Rajlakshmi blurted out, ‘Child, why didn’t you come into my house as a bride—I would have kept you so close to my heart!’ These words made Binodini blush and run away.

Rajlakshmi was waiting for a letter from Kolkata, begging her to return. Her Mahin had never been away from his mother for so long in his entire life. He must be missing her terribly by now. Rajlakshmi was waiting eagerly for that letter from her son, bearing all his hurt feelings, tantrums and yearning for her.

Instead, Behari got a letter from Mahendra: ‘Perhaps Mother is very happy to be back in her birthplace after so many years.’

Rajlakshmi thought, ‘Dear me, Mahin must be very hurt. Happy! How could his wretched mother be happy anywhere without her Mahin!’

‘O Behari, do read what more Mahin has written,’ she said.

Behari said, ‘There’s nothing after that, Mother.’ He crumpled up the letter, stuffed it into a book and dumped it in a corner of the room.

Rajlakshmi could scarcely contain herself. Mahin must have written such angry words that Behari couldn’t read them out to his mother! Sometimes the calf butts against the cow’s udder and procures both milk and maternal love. Rajlakshmi felt a similar surge of love for her son at the thought of his wrath. She forgave Mahendra readily and said to herself, ‘If Mahin is happy with his bride, let him be. At any cost, he must be happy. I’ll not trouble him any more. Poor thing, how angry he must be when his mother, who has never been away from him, has left him and come away. Her tears overflowed at the very thought.

That day Rajlakshmi went again and again to Behari and hustled him, ‘Go and have your bath, son; it’s getting late.’

But Behari seemed to have lost interest in bathing or eating. He said, ‘Mother, a little indiscipline is good for a hopeless wretch like me.’

Rajlakshmi coaxed him firmly, ‘No, son, go and have your bath.’

After such continual badgering Behari went into the bathroom. The minute he left the room, Rajlakshmi rescued the crumpled letter from within the book, gave it to Binodini and said, ‘Child, read out to me what Mahin has written to Behari.’

Binodini began to read. At first he had written about his mother, but that was very little. Not much more than what Behari had read out to her earlier.