Muna is Troyi’s closest friend. Muna got married in their honours first year itself. They’re in their master’s now. Troyi still hasn’t married. In that sense, Muna has gotten ahead. Her son is four, studying in nursery. Muna’s husband is Opu. Opu works as a senior officer at a bank. Very smart, handsome—a proper gentleman. Troyi came to know Opu through Muna.
Muna trusts her husband blindly. She believes there are few men like him in the world. Muna lives in the university hostel, her son stays with his grandmother, and Opu, because of his job, lives in another city. Troyi and Muna live on the second and third floors of the same hostel. Muna gives Opu Troyi’s number and tells him that if her mobile is ever switched off, he should call Troyi and ask her to hand the phone over. Opu calls Troyi. When Troyi tries to take the phone down to Muna, he says, “I had something to tell you actually. Will you talk for a bit?”
At first, Troyi would exchange a few formal words and be done with it. But gradually this became routine. Even when Troyi didn’t feel like talking, Opu would keep going on and on. Through these calls, Opu wanted to tell Troyi things he couldn’t say to his wife’s friend. Once Troyi understood what was happening, she stopped taking his calls. She couldn’t tell Muna about this—Muna would never believe her anyway. Worse, Opu would twist things around to Muna, make Troyi out to be a bad woman in her eyes. Women love with a blindness that encompasses the wrongs of the beloved too. They have an infinite capacity to find light even in the darkest corners of the person they love. To that person, every woman becomes a fool. Troyi thought: if I say anything about this, I’ll lose an extraordinary friend like Muna in the bargain. So Troyi said nothing.
For Muna, Opu was the entire world. She talked about him constantly to her other friends. Meanwhile, Opu kept calling Troyi from unknown numbers. Most of the calls came after midnight. The moment Troyi realized who it was, she’d hang up. One day Muna and Troyi were standing on the campus road eating pani puri. Opu was calling Troyi’s phone over and over. Troyi wouldn’t pick up. Opu knew they were together now. He also knew that Troyi couldn’t tell Muna anything about this. He seemed to enjoy Troyi’s discomfort, her helplessness.
When he couldn’t reach Troyi, Opu called Muna. After chatting for a bit, he said, “Why doesn’t your friend pick up my calls? Is she with you? Get her on the line.” Muna told Troyi, “Hey, why aren’t you picking up your brother-in-law’s calls? Here, take it, talk to him.” She thrust the phone into Troyi’s hand without giving her a chance to respond, and turned away to chat with another friend. The moment Troyi said her greeting and “hello,” Opu burst into a crude, leering laugh. Then he started making suggestive remarks. Troyi said, “Please talk to Muna, brother,” and handed the phone back to her.
The moment Muna picked up the phone, Apu said, “What’s wrong with your friend? Why is she treating me this way?” Muna told Trayi, “Why don’t you talk to Apu properly? She thinks very highly of you.” Trayi said nothing. She went back to her room, buried her face in the pillow, and wept without restraint. Soon enough, Apu’s phone rang again. Trayi didn’t answer. She’d been forced to save eight of Apu’s numbers just so she could reject the calls the moment they came. Apu keeps calling from new numbers, sending texts, writing obscenities. She even writes crude verses and sends them. On Facebook alone, from at least six different accounts, she sends objectionable pictures and messages. The moment Trayi blocks one account, Apu opens another and sends the same filth.
Trayi can’t tell anyone. Apu is used to doing these things. She does it to many other girls too. Trayi is a quiet, timid sort of person. Meanwhile, Muna just keeps falling deeper in love with her husband. She sews him sweaters and sends them, embroiders handkerchiefs for him. When he comes to her town, she rushes out like a madwoman to spend time with him. Apu is like an addiction to her. No matter what anyone says about Apu, she won’t believe a word. Apu has her under a spell.
Trayi, sister, listen to me. Women become simple, foolish, around the men they love. That much is fine. But there are Munas in this world too. They aren’t just foolish—they’re idiots! You have to point things out to them with your finger before they’ll see them, and they never do, not really. (Sometimes even when you show them, they still don’t get it!) Sister, don’t you have all the evidence of Apu’s wrongdoing? Show it to Muna. Sit her down and tell her everything calmly, plainly. Get the law involved if you need to. You’re not so weak that you have to let some rotten person do whatever she wants, day after day, while you sit silent and take it. Do this for Muna—she’s your closest friend, isn’t she? People like Apu are cowards inside, sister. Just stand up to her once! That bastard won’t even know which way to run!
May things get better for Trayi.