The Story of the Madhabilata

: How are you, Madhabillata?
: Sir, how did you recognize me? Just from hearing 'hello'...!
: I recognized you by the sound of your breathing. It's still ringing in my ears, as if I just heard it!
: Greetings, sir. How are you now?
: You should have said greetings at the start of our conversation, not now! Oh yes, to change the subject? Fine then!
: No, sir... I mean... I'm not exactly...
: You're not exactly what? You are Madhabillata, my Madhabillata.
: Sir, is it right to speak to a student this way?
: Is love between student and teacher forbidden? Or are we the first to do such a thing! Who decided teachers must be angels? Don't they have the right to be lovers?
: When I remember all that, I feel very uncomfortable. I'm hanging up...
: You'll hang up? Ha, you can if you want. You've had plenty of practice at leaving.
: I only called to ask about your health. You're still the same as before, haven't changed a bit.
: Who told you my health is poor?
: I heard the news.
: What about your health? Your broad shoulders, your undulating waist, your chest full of overflowing youth... is everything still the same, or have you ruined your body after marriage like other Bengali women?
: You're forgetting that I was once your student.
: You're forgetting that I was also your lover.
: Don't say these things anymore. I've forgotten all that old talk. People have so many things at that age!
: Have you really forgotten? Can anyone forget such things? The taste of your lips, the touch of your hands, the play of kohl in your eyes, your dancing in white chiffon sarees—all this still blooms before my eyes! You are my eternally youthful Madhabillata...
: My name is Madhabi Basu. I am not some Madhabillata.
: You are Madhabillata, I am Animesh. Don't you remember 'Uttaradhikar'—after reading it, you wanted to become Madhabillata?
: Everyone wants to become Madhabillata in their youth. But no one can. No one can ever be that courageous.
: But I was able to become Animesh. I was able to love like Animesh.
: Don't you remember, Animesh's character was that of a disabled, failed man? He had nothing left to give except love.
: If you know how to love like that, you don't need to know anything else!
: Isn't your wife home? She might hear all this.
: Nothing reaches her ears; I can say whatever I want, do whatever I want.
: You mean she's hard of hearing? Who talks about their own wife like this?
: Wife? Oh yes, she must be a wife! I had completely forgotten! Mother insisted so much... who will look after you when you're old? Who will do the housework?... saying all this. So following the eternal custom of Bengali male society, I brought home a maid, who was given the name wife. I mean she's basically a housemaid, but when she goes out, with her hair tied and wearing cotton sarees, she's the complete wife of Atanu Mallick.
: Ha ha ha... you still talk like this, making jokes! Well, even if it's fear of your wife, put some restraint on your tongue.
: Do you keep your husband on a leash? Is he a husband or a horse?
: When you're talking nonsense, at least stick to your own wife—there's no point dragging my husband into this.
: I'm not saying anything bad about him. He's become a photograph now, so whether I say good or bad, it's all the same.
: What... he's gone? When did this happen?
: It's been about seven years. He suffered a lot from illness. Rather than all that suffering, he's better off having left.
: Doesn't it bother you to speak like this?
: When one maid goes, another comes. There's nothing to get upset about.
: Shame! A wife is never a maid! Does someone become a maid just for doing housework, taking care of their own home?
: You're right, doing housework doesn't make someone a maid; but what should I call someone who only does housework?
: Goodness, you only made the poor woman work?
: I married her knowing she would work.
: Didn't she ever question it?
: Question? Could she even question? She quietly accepted everything and performed her wifely duties, hoping to get to heaven after death! She's probably in heaven now, with the other maids. Since you're also performing wifely duties, you'll meet her after you die.
: I'm not a maid.
: Is that so? All women feel that way. Bengali men marry to get housework done, though they don't admit it.
: My husband is not like you.
: Of course he's not like me. Can everyone become Animesh? Can everyone get Madhabillata?
: I am Madhabi!
: That's for your husband.
: But I didn't get news about your health. You are well, aren't you?
: Does your husband love you?
: .......................................................
: Why are you quiet?
: Such questions have no answers. Husbands never show their love openly.
: But if they love, they will show it!
: How can you be so certain? You don't even know him.
: But I know you. I have loved you. I can tell how dried up you've become from not receiving love.
: How can you tell?
: From the sound of your voice. You're saying one thing with your mouth, but wanting to say something else.
: Not at all.
: Come to me one day.
: My husband loves me enough. I am happy. I'll hang up now.
: Oh, loves! Does he caress you?
: Isn't this going too far?
: Does he know how to caress you? Has he been able to find the sensitive spots on your body like I did? Does he know how to calm your anger? I don't think so!
: I am the mother of three children. Now you can understand for yourself.
: What does having children have to do with this? Ha ha! I see you've learned to make me laugh too! Do children come from love in our society? A child that doesn't come from the love of two people, I call that an 'unwanted child.' There's no difference between them and babies abandoned in dustbins.
: Now you'll say whatever you want about my children too?
: No, I'll only talk about you.
: I won't talk, sir. I called after so many years because I heard about your illness. And since then you've been saying all sorts of things!
: You couldn't find the right excuse to call me. My illness came in quite handy for you. What do you say?
: Why would I need an excuse to call you? I deliberately never call.
: See, you never call because I might catch on that your husband doesn't love you. Or because you might suddenly want to leave everything and come to me, so you're afraid to call.
: He loves me. You're just guessing everything.
: Loves? Alright, does your husband know that you're an excellent dancer?
: I gave up dancing myself. There's no time for such things anymore.
: Say you were forced to give it up.
: It's the same thing.
: Can someone who loves ever kill the most beloved thing of their loved one?
: I liked dancing. But it wasn't my most beloved thing.
: If it wasn't beloved, how could you dance with such passion? I don't think so. Are you hiding yourself from me? Can you hide? Have you ever been able to?
: ................................................
: How many more ways must I prove that he doesn't love you? You know this truth yourself. Then why do you keep putting yourself to sleep with lies?
: ................................................
: Are you crying, Madhabillata?
: No.
: How much longer will you lie to me like this?... To yourself?
: Until I die!