Legacy Avenging

During this lockdown, my husband and I were mostly confined in a suburban villa in the States, though we were 100% percent Indian in every way but had jobs abroad. He, as a genetic scientist and me as a chartered accountant. Our children Priyanka and Aslan were growing restless too as they couldn’t go out of the house to play with their friends.

Almost 24 hours either the gaming console or television screen would be blaring. My husband, who was not in support of playing video games extensively or watching TV so much, decided to put a stop to this. After a grave discussion, we mapped all possibilities to get our family to my in-laws’ house in the rustic rural countrysides of West Bengal, India, to give our children all the pleasantries of natural beauty away from all this cosmopolitan jungle and cutting edge technology.

And the discussion was put into immediate effect the very next day not to mention the gloomy looks of my children. They would listlessly move around and grumble when I told them to pack their bags. I also made sure that Aslan didn’t hide any video games in his bag for his sister and him. The only digital devices we were to take were our smartphones. That’s it.

As I went on packing for my husband and me, he too went off rattling off the amenities near my ear like a bee by which I couldn’t help getting irritated but I maintained my calm expression until he said,” Ogo ei resort ta thik achhe to? Naki ar ekta dekhe nebo?” (Honey, is this resort okay, or should we look for another one?)

I pretended that I heard him and nodded vigorously, though I had heard only half the amenities. That was that! Bookings made, flight schedule made, packing finished. I made a very lightweight dinner, that night so that everybody won’t get a stomach upset while the trip, consisting of dim sheddo (boiled eggs), alloo sheddo ( boiled potatoes), ghee (clarified butter), and bhat (rice). When I served them the dishes groans went all around the table. This usually meant that they didn’t like all that boiled stuff. But alas! What can they do? Mother knows the best!!

The sky was still dark as we started our trip at three ‘o'clock in the morning to reach the airport as early as possible. We had to switch through numerous airlines connecting the USA to India as there were government restrictions almost everywhere but with people in high connections this was easy.

 Our close friend Mohanan, who usually worked for these sorts of things, made passage for people easy at a very minimal price. His family immigrated with us to the USA so as to ensure a better education for our children, acted almost as a family consultant for us at all times of need. But nevertheless, although Mohanan made sure that we would reach Shantiniketan within a day, yet we had to do myriads of check-ups at this airport or that.       

Thank God we had booked the flights at the right time because at their website they said prices would go up by 4,490 rupees ($ 60.68) and that the flights were 38,448 ($ 521 roughly) cheaper than usual.

Finally, after this entire hullabaloo, we finally reached Kolkata, the capital of West Bengal, where we found a garage that was renting out cars for no more than 3000/- rupees. Seeing all of us jet-lagged, the manager of the garage smiled a little and sent a driver with us, because my husband seemed in no condition to drive.

But alas the driver had come with his own little folly, his head was massaged with so much jasmine oil and his clothes were so dirty that everything about him stunk. Being grateful for whatever we had, we kicked off on our journey to Shantiniketan without further ado.

Owing to the slow driving of the driver we reached the resort at Shantiniketan almost around 11:30 pm. We all came out of the dingy car; groggy and with a nauseating feeling.

Being back at Shantiniketan made me nostalgic and brought back the old memories of me and Sourav tying the knot. Sourav too felt it when he came out of the car. A porter came out of the resort, ushered us in, and took our bags. The children where almost half sleepy by then so we decided not to bother them and ordered a simple Bengali-style dinner consisting of mutton curry, fish fry, alloo bhaja (fried potatoes), rice, and curd which always helped as a digestive after meals.

We had plans of staying at the resort only overnight, then to stay with our in-laws (whom we had lost communication with for many years) and we stuck to it to avoid extra expense. Even Sourav was anxious to know what became of them after so many years. Seeing the children asleep with such calm expressions, it lulled us to sleep as well after the sumptuous meal and the four of us slept like logs.

I was the first one to wake up at 8 am and then I woke the others and almost pushed them immediately to bath as none of us, after the car drive, took a bath the last night, so one can imagine how dirty that would be.

While my husband and kids were taking their baths, I tackled the telephone given in our room and called the reception desk to give us our breakfast at our room and in an hour we were bathed, cleaned, and fed.

My husband being totally energized after last night’s sleep was totally ready to ditch our smelly and slow driver and drive the car himself. So we took the car keys from the driver, who was still in a very drowsy state, and told him that we didn’t need him for the rest of the journey though I very much doubt whether he understood us or not.

It was around 11:30 in the morning when we finally checked out of the resort. The air outside was pretty refreshing and in a distance, one could actually see the village in a distance with its cute little mud huts and ponds and the famous Patha Bhavan which was founded by our beloved Rabindranath Tagore in the year 1901 which almost roughly 120 years ago.

It is a known fact that the teachers over there teach the students under the pleasant shade of the trees and the students actually love to learn everything with a practical approach and without any specific boundaries for different subjects. That was the policy of our honorable Mahatma Gandhi and Rabindranath Tagore.

It took around 20 minutes I think to drive down the village but it felt like hours to locate the specific house. At first, my husband couldn’t recall the names of his parents, and when he recalled that, he forgot the location. Tired and frustrated, he decided to talk to the locals. He gestured towards a shirt and dhoti clad man with a dark-complexioned skin and he came to us. “Namaskar babu, onek din pore ashchhi ekhane, Bagchi babu’r bari ta kothai ektu bole deben?” (Greetings dear uncle, I’m coming here after many years, could you please tell us the directions towards Mr.Bagchi’s house?)

The man gave us some directions and we went off again. It took us around 10 minutes more to locate the house. Just looking at the house brought out all the old memories afresh in our minds. We had never known sadness in this house, my in-laws were very educated people and they carried a pristine aura around themselves. Last, when I saw them ten years ago, they use to organize all sorts of awareness programs and used to help the NGOs, etc. They were the sort of people whom other people looked up to.

Coming out of the car, seemed to break our daydreaming totally and when we saw the scenario in front of us, it broke our hearts. The garden was a total jungle of various kinds of weeds, the fountain was strewn with leaves of the trees above it and there was some sort of water blockage because of which water was not able to come out in its full force. The gate through which we entered was somehow held and tied with ropes to the hinges.

Though the house had a veranda at the front, a rear courtyard surrounded by a parapet like structure, four bedrooms, and a spacious living room everything was covered under a fine layer of dust.

A pot-bellied dhoti clad man came towards us and turning at my husband said,” Apni ki Bagchi babu’r chhelle?” (Are you Mr.Bagchi’s son?) My husband nodded in response.

The man again spoke with a sad expression,” Bagchi babu tin bochhor agei marajan, uni apnar jonno ei bari ar ko ekta kagoj potro chhere gachhen.” (Mr. Bagchi died mysteriously three years ago, and he has also left you this house and a will and testament.) My husband just couldn’t process this statement. He was about to faint when I caught him mid-air. Sourav got up and sat down on the parapet surrounding the courtyard, tears coming out of his eyes. The man out of courtesy also told us that when Sourav’s father died, almost in a few days his mother too died out of grief and cardiovascular issues.

Then as the man came closer to whisper something to me I could smell the disgusting odor of paan which is a concoction of areca nut, rose petals, sugar, and fennel all wrapped with one big betel leaf. He told me that it was also rumored that he was murdered by one of his archenemies or rather his own competitors, I thought while finding a cure for a disease.

With this, the man, who was also the housekeeper, went outside to shop for vegetables, fish, and some meat when he heard that we here to stay for at least a month.

The statement which he delivered to me although didn’t surprise me because he too was a very renowned genetic scientist just like Sourav and had found many wonderful cures to various ailments and diseases therefore it wasn’t impossible to have any competitors who could have brutally murdered him but nevertheless it chilled me to the bone.  

But as a mother, I couldn’t have sadness floating around my children who wouldn’t understand the mysteries of life just yet. So I told Sourav not to cry in front of the children and rather interact or do something them to distract himself from this sad development.

Sourav too agreed with me and went out to the car to bring out our entire luggage. While I went to the bathroom which was fairly clean, tied my hair in a bun, took out a clean and white saree already starched and pressed, and wore it in the traditional Bengali way (Sourav’s father liked it). I then took out all sorts of cleaning equipment from the utility closet which was near the kitchen and started cleaning out everything while Sourav engaged the kids into playing snakes and ladders with him.

While dusting out all the rooms I bumped into one room which seemed to have not been in use for a lot of time other than the other rooms in the house. There was a very ornate study made of polished teak at one side, a master bed in the other, and a British- style walk-in-closet. Unable to control my curiosity I mapped out various possibilities of opening the closet and what to find inside. Would it be a closet full of British style coats, shirts, and trousers along with a safe in one side which would contain the will and testament? Or would it be a lot of old, dusty, and moth-eaten books which would be half-rotten or something totally unexpected?

Pondering on all of this I went over to the table and found a framed photo stand which inside had a photo of Sourav’s father (which meant that the room was his) and strangely a just one piece of a jigsaw puzzle. The thing with the photo I deduced was none other than that of narcissism (I mean who keeps their own photo in their own personal study?). But the piece of a jigsaw puzzle as something I really couldn’t understand.

I opened one of the drawers to scourge for the key of the closet; which I did gradually along with two other things, one of them was a crumbled piece of paper where some uppercase letters along with a few numbers were written and the other being another strange piece of a jigsaw puzzle. At that moment I was totally baffled.

So I put two pieces of the jigsaw into the anchal of my saree and wrapped them into a knot so that they won’t fall off somewhere. I proceeded towards the closet and opened it, first using the key but then there was another door inside of that and it was at that time that I realized that letters and numbers written on the crumpled piece of paper were a pass-code to this door.

When I turned my face towards the passcode keyboard, it automatically opened up to a retinal scanner. It scanned my eyes and said in a cordial British English accent,” Aashalatha Banerjee, please enter the password.”

I entered the password in a very enthusiastic manner like a child unwrapping a new toy on his birthday. The door opened up to a whole new room!

Filled with scientific equipment like test-tubes, Bunsen burners, electroscopes, and various containers with heaven-knows-what-they-contained and in the middle of the room sat majestically a supercomputer which was almost 30 years old.

I almost was about to slip on the smooth floor when I gripped the laboratory table firmly. And when I got up I found two more pieces of the puzzle. It wasn’t possible for me to see the pictures on it properly because only a little of dwindling sunlight was entering through the closet. So I kept them safe in the saree’s knot as well.

I went around the computer as it was placed on a huge table and at the back, there were numerous wire connections to various plug sockets. I decided to linger no more here and tell Sourav about it because it was already getting late in the afternoon and the housekeeper might’ve come home by now and started cooking so I had to get the children ready for lunch.

When I told Sourav about all this, he got surprised and taken aback as he had never known any secret closet in this house neither did he know anything about the mysterious puzzle pieces which were almost found at every corner I went to clean.

But he too told me that when he opened the old snakes and ladders set lying around here contained three more of those puzzling puzzle pieces. That evening after the children had gone to take a short nap. Sourav and I took out whatever of those puzzle pieces was and tried to match them together. Sourav and I knew that his father from his childhood loved solving jigsaw and whenever he went to anyone’s birthday party, he would always gift them a brand new jigsaw puzzle.

We tried to solve it and we found that it was a puzzle of someone’s face. Somehow I knew that I had seen the face somewhere, today. We tried scourge for some more of those pieces as only then would the puzzle be completed. Then I got up from the floor; discouraged. But then I was thought from the detective novels where detective would also check the back of the table and find maybe a hidden cavity underneath or the clue itself taped to the table.

So I did the same and hoorah! I found all the missing pieces stuck with tape to the table. I called Sourav and he came running with joy. We then put the remaining pieces together and realized that it had been the same picture of Sourav’s father as I saw it on the study of his room.

Somehow the pieces started glowing and some writing resurfaced on that old puzzle. Then Sourav told me that his father had created these electronic puzzles himself to keep Sourav entertained. It said Location: Edith//Drive: d Antigen.

I thought maybe it was a formula for a cure for some disease. But then to Sourav, it all made sense, he grabbed my hand led me to his father’s room, and told me to open the closet. I opened it and we went inside.

Sourav went towards the computer and typed the pass-code which was Edith and then the screen lit up. He went to the programs section and found the D drive of the computer. He clicked on it and a list of letters (all in pairs of three) appeared on the screen. Sourav told me that the letters in a group of three was one amino acid and that these pairs of three formed a very long polypeptide chain (related to genetics). As he deciphered the entire first line, he realized this was the antigen for Covid-19 itself! Tears of happiness ran from his eyes.

He e-mailed it to the scientists back in America and told Mohanan about it as well, it was the first time I saw Sourav so happy in his life.

As the proverb goes,” All’s well that ends well!!!!!!!