APART

And for the umpteenth time in the last three days, Shristi felt, her father restrained from saying something. Apprehensions grabbed her. Her mind writhed with convoluted thoughts. Is he trying to conceal some bad tiding? Has he been diagnosed with some dire ailment? A fearful shudder quivered through her. Staying more than eight thousand miles away in the antipodal USA, there was, essentially, very little that she could do, if her ageing father chose to play truant with words. Barely three years away from retirement, Mr. Baruah, her widower father, lived all alone in Guwahati, her native town in Assam. She earnestly prayed to the Almighty for his well-being and made her way to the University library. Her semester exams were around the corner.

It was about five months ago that Shristi travelled her way from the unassuming state of Assam in India to the ambrosial land of opportunities- the USA. The sojourn to live her American dream was, however, not served to her on a platter. Shristi lost her mother to a fateful bike accident while she was still not admitted to kindergarten. Her father was the one riding the bike He escaped, unscathed.

As far as she could stretch her memory strings, Shristi remembered her father standing by her in every walk of life, with his towering ubiquity. A single father, Mr. Barua dotted on his only daughter. Never did he forbid her from pursuing any of her dreams, be it her desire to climb the peepal tree in the neighborhood as a 10-year-old or her proclivity for martial arts as she grew up. He would just watch over her, much like a hawk; shielding her from all perils, looming or imminent. He instilled in her the fearlessness to follow the right path, no matter how hard it may appear. An ardent learner, Shristi reveled in the company of books and knowledge. Father and daughter often competed with each other on finishing a good read. Sometimes, he would recount to her, stories of his early life with her mother. Shristi knew her mother, for him, was a perfect embodiment of beauty, compassion and equanimity. But did she miss her? She hardly had any memory of her mother.

Her father was her pillar of strength, her friend and her mentor. While he was her Helix Nebula and she was a Shristi (creation) of his ethos and spirit.

The years, thus, glided on. Under the aegis of her father, Shristi grew up to be a confident, deft woman of poise and fortitude. Ambitious as she was, she persevered to make it as large as possible in life.

After her graduation, she secured a 100 percent scholarship for her MS at the University of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. “What is the subject of your choice?” was all that Mr. Barua asked Shristi. Both the subject and university were realization of her long-nurtured dream. The price of this realization was sadly what she loved the most. The thought of moving away so far from her senile father overwhelmed her with grief and dissent. To add to it, Amit, her beau, did not qualify the entrance examination. He would need some time to introspect his next course of action in his career. Shristi mulled over the idea of pursuing her higher studies in India itself. Mr. Barua, however, was unstirred. “An opportunity does not knock twice,” he told his daughter. Amit, too, encouraged her. Both the men in her life motivated her not to capitulate to her emotions. And so, one day with a heavy heart, she flew off, soaring high to catch hold of her dreams.

The first few weeks in the US were expectedly difficult to cope up with. Away from the cocoon of her comfort to fending for herself in a different continent, adjusting to contrasting food habits, climate, culture and people, Shristi did grapple with the stark change in her life. But eventually, as she adapted to the initial hiccups, her struggles were replaced with an indomitable verve for her new life, which she found invigorating and welcoming. However, there hardly is any sunshine without the clouds. The time lag between India and the US and the call of the rigorous daily schedule left Shristi with lesser time for Amit. Amit, entangled in the turmoil of his own career, grew recklessly impatient. Before they could grasp, the relationship, began navigating the irrevocable downward spiral.

Amidst this mélange of life and career, Mr. Barua’s ambiguous behavior in the last three days flustered Shristi’s mind with even more dilemma and anxiety. Back from her class, she called up her father. She could perceive the hesitation in his voice, as they talked. Finally, she could bear no more.

“Father, is there anything that you are hiding from me? Anything that I should know, that you want to share?”, she asked.

Mr. Barua paused; silence prevailed. Shristi asked again and once again.

“I have been striving to tell this to you for many days, Shristi,” he finally spoke up. “There is a colleague at my office, my immediate junior. She joined just after you had left for the US. Over the past few months, we have grown quite close to each other. You don’t stay here. At this age, I too need someone for company and she seems perfect for this. She has a daughter too, younger to you though. By next month, we have decided to solemnize our relationship in holy matrimony.”

Shristi stood dumbfound. Words eluded her; emotions betrayed. “Is it a prank to uplift my mood?”, she asked her father. “No, my dear, I am afraid it is true. You too will be fond of Jane when you meet her. Her daughter, Alice already idealizes you. And you know what?” Shristi hung up. She did not want to know anything anymore about any Jane or Alice. Her mind was in ruckus. Is that the reason her father was so unflinching when she got the call from US? Is Jane more perfect than her own mother? Was Alice her replacement in his life? Would she usurp her room in her home in India? She did not know. She broke into tears. She hesitated to even call up Amit. He may not pick up at all. They have been quarrelling ever since she arrived in the US.

-PRIYAMI DUTTA