19-06-2019, 04:50 PM
Chapter 42
Return to Kolkata!
My sweet homely mature mother had tried to keep her secret hidden from me for a very long time and now that she knew I had seen her, I was afraid that things would become very awkward. After I witnessed her debauchery in the morning, I was afraid to come out of the room and face her. And ever my mom decided not to speak to me. We left Uncle Bapis house on a quiet and somber note, even though we were both smiling that afternoon when we boarded the car.
Bahadur was driving the car with Karim Chacha in the front seat and me and my mom in the back. Neither of us had said a word to each other since morning and everytime I looked at her, she turned away in shame. I guess I shouldve been grateful that she was not aware of the fact that this wasnt the first time I had seen her being used and having sex with a low-class man. Regardless, she seemed very conscious of herself now as she tried to avoid my eyes as well as Bahadurs eyes. The driver too appeared to be very alarmed and I can only assume that the slap I heard when I ran up the stairs after that incident was my mom slapping him as a backlash.
Anyways, after Karim Chacha and Bahadur dropped us at the station, we both got on the train and left. Nothing even remotely scintillating happened during our return trip as my mom was acting very prim and proper, now that she knew her son had seen and heard everything that she had done. We hardly spoke during the journey and when we got home and opened the door, there was another surprise waiting for us.
Haria!! Tui ekhane! (Haria! What are you doing here!), my mom cried.
My memories of watching my mothers first act of debauchery came flooding back to me as I saw our 40 year old short-heighted, skinny, dark-skinned servant for the first time in nearly a month. He was sweeping the floor when we entered the house, wearing a loose-fitting lungi and a white banyan which had patches and holes all over. His silver hairline was still receding and his beard was shoddy. He stopped and stared in awe at my mom, as if he had just gotten his queen back.
B-Boudiaa-aamgo b-boro Babu aite koiyachilo. Uni d-du-t-teen din aage rowna diyasen. (B-Bhabhib-big Boss asked me to come. He left about 2-3 days ago.), he stammered. Boro-Babu meant my Dad. I knew that he mentioned before we were leaving that he intended to rehire Haria and my mom vehemently opposed to it. But, I believe, he didnt listen.
When my mom heard that my Dad had asked him to continue working here, she just grumbled and trotted to her room. But, before she left, she laid down the law for him. Acha, ekhane kaaj korte hole eita sune rakh: Aaj theke ranna-ghore tui alada kaaj korbi aar ami alada. Jokhon ami ranna-ghore thakbo, tui tokhon baire ghore porishkar korbi aar jokhon tui ranna-ghore thakbi tokhon ami thakbona! Porishkar hoeche kotha (Ok, if you want to work here you have to follow the rules: From today onwards, were both going to be in the kitchen at separate times. When Im working in the kitchen, you will clean the rest of the house. And whenever youre in the kitchen, I will be doing something somewhere else! Is that clear)
Haria timidly nodded his head in approval and my mom stormed up the stairs to her room after that conversation. No words were exchanged between us. I assumed she was still emotional about what happened in Siliguri. Nonetheless, I didnt want to strain our mother-son relationship, so I decided not to push her.
Later in the day, we received a phone call. At first, I assumed it was my Dad who had called to check up on us. But when I brought the receiver to my ears, I realized something different.
Hello!, he said. The voice was crooked and timbering, so richly deep that my two little ears were tingling. In fact, my whole body was shivering. It was Uncle Shyam! Before I could bring myself to reply with my own hello, I heard my moms soft, mellow voice say the words (from the parallel line in my parents bedroom).
Hello! Ke bolchen (Hello! Whos calling)
Shikha darling!, Uncle Shyams said in a roaring excited voice.
Almost immediately, my moms voice started quivering, A-apni Ki chai apnar Amar somostho jibon tochnoch hoegeche! Ekhon apni ki aar borbad korte chan suni (Y-You What do you want My whole life is ruined! Now, what more can you do to make it worse), her voice slowly turned heavy as she said that. She was perilously close to breaking down into tears.
Hearing my mom in such a depressed state, Uncle Shyam started speaking in an uncharacteristically toned down voice, Keno darling, ki hoeche (Why darling, what happened)
For a minute, there was no response from my moms side. She was breathing heavily on the phone which suggested she was nervous about revealing too much to this pot-bellied pervert. But Uncle Shyam was not one to give up easily. Ki hoeche, Shikha darling Bhoy pacho keno sona amar Amar kache tomar kon kothata lukono ache Tumi toh amae shob I bolo. Tahle eta bolte lojja pacho keno Bolo na ki hoeche. (What happened, Shikha darling Why are you so afraid Is there anything about your life that is hidden from me Youre used to telling me everything. Then why are you ashamed to tell me this Tell me please, what happened.), he said with a soothing calm voice.
Uncle Shyams warm eager words coupled with my mothers anxiety over not being able to tell anyone, finally motivated her to tell the truth. Sh-Shyam B-Babu, apni bhabte parben na k-ki hoeche Siliguri te. (Sh-Shyam B-Babu, you wont b-believe what h-happened in Siliguri.), she began. My heart felt like it was skipping a few beats when she began to tell him. O-o-o amae dekhe niyeche (H-he saw me), she stammered.
Shyam Uncle didnt seem to understand or maybe he wanted more details like the pervert that he was. Ki bolte chaichis Bhalo kore bol! Ke dekhe niyeche Ki dekhe niyeche Kichui bujte parchi na! (What are you trying to say Tell me properly! Who saw What did they see I can understand nothing!), he said irritably.
Amaramaramar chele! (Mymymy son!), my mom blurted out, her voice quivering with fear and shame.
For a moment, the 55-year old pervert was quiet, possibly trying to assess the situation. Tate ki hoeche (So what), he finally said, breaking his silence.
My mom was thoroughly surprised to hear the question. Ki bolchen apni Tate ki hoeche mane! Apni bodhae bujte paren ni. (What are you saying What do you mean by so what Maybe you didnt understand.)
Hahahaahahhaha! Uncle Shyam gave a maniacal laugh. Ami thik bujhechi. Tui ki amae gandu bhebechis naki Bol magi, kake chudchili (I understand quite well. Did you think me to be a dumbass Tell me slut, who did you fuck)...
Return to Kolkata!
My sweet homely mature mother had tried to keep her secret hidden from me for a very long time and now that she knew I had seen her, I was afraid that things would become very awkward. After I witnessed her debauchery in the morning, I was afraid to come out of the room and face her. And ever my mom decided not to speak to me. We left Uncle Bapis house on a quiet and somber note, even though we were both smiling that afternoon when we boarded the car.
Bahadur was driving the car with Karim Chacha in the front seat and me and my mom in the back. Neither of us had said a word to each other since morning and everytime I looked at her, she turned away in shame. I guess I shouldve been grateful that she was not aware of the fact that this wasnt the first time I had seen her being used and having sex with a low-class man. Regardless, she seemed very conscious of herself now as she tried to avoid my eyes as well as Bahadurs eyes. The driver too appeared to be very alarmed and I can only assume that the slap I heard when I ran up the stairs after that incident was my mom slapping him as a backlash.
Anyways, after Karim Chacha and Bahadur dropped us at the station, we both got on the train and left. Nothing even remotely scintillating happened during our return trip as my mom was acting very prim and proper, now that she knew her son had seen and heard everything that she had done. We hardly spoke during the journey and when we got home and opened the door, there was another surprise waiting for us.
Haria!! Tui ekhane! (Haria! What are you doing here!), my mom cried.
My memories of watching my mothers first act of debauchery came flooding back to me as I saw our 40 year old short-heighted, skinny, dark-skinned servant for the first time in nearly a month. He was sweeping the floor when we entered the house, wearing a loose-fitting lungi and a white banyan which had patches and holes all over. His silver hairline was still receding and his beard was shoddy. He stopped and stared in awe at my mom, as if he had just gotten his queen back.
B-Boudiaa-aamgo b-boro Babu aite koiyachilo. Uni d-du-t-teen din aage rowna diyasen. (B-Bhabhib-big Boss asked me to come. He left about 2-3 days ago.), he stammered. Boro-Babu meant my Dad. I knew that he mentioned before we were leaving that he intended to rehire Haria and my mom vehemently opposed to it. But, I believe, he didnt listen.
When my mom heard that my Dad had asked him to continue working here, she just grumbled and trotted to her room. But, before she left, she laid down the law for him. Acha, ekhane kaaj korte hole eita sune rakh: Aaj theke ranna-ghore tui alada kaaj korbi aar ami alada. Jokhon ami ranna-ghore thakbo, tui tokhon baire ghore porishkar korbi aar jokhon tui ranna-ghore thakbi tokhon ami thakbona! Porishkar hoeche kotha (Ok, if you want to work here you have to follow the rules: From today onwards, were both going to be in the kitchen at separate times. When Im working in the kitchen, you will clean the rest of the house. And whenever youre in the kitchen, I will be doing something somewhere else! Is that clear)
Haria timidly nodded his head in approval and my mom stormed up the stairs to her room after that conversation. No words were exchanged between us. I assumed she was still emotional about what happened in Siliguri. Nonetheless, I didnt want to strain our mother-son relationship, so I decided not to push her.
Later in the day, we received a phone call. At first, I assumed it was my Dad who had called to check up on us. But when I brought the receiver to my ears, I realized something different.
Hello!, he said. The voice was crooked and timbering, so richly deep that my two little ears were tingling. In fact, my whole body was shivering. It was Uncle Shyam! Before I could bring myself to reply with my own hello, I heard my moms soft, mellow voice say the words (from the parallel line in my parents bedroom).
Hello! Ke bolchen (Hello! Whos calling)
Shikha darling!, Uncle Shyams said in a roaring excited voice.
Almost immediately, my moms voice started quivering, A-apni Ki chai apnar Amar somostho jibon tochnoch hoegeche! Ekhon apni ki aar borbad korte chan suni (Y-You What do you want My whole life is ruined! Now, what more can you do to make it worse), her voice slowly turned heavy as she said that. She was perilously close to breaking down into tears.
Hearing my mom in such a depressed state, Uncle Shyam started speaking in an uncharacteristically toned down voice, Keno darling, ki hoeche (Why darling, what happened)
For a minute, there was no response from my moms side. She was breathing heavily on the phone which suggested she was nervous about revealing too much to this pot-bellied pervert. But Uncle Shyam was not one to give up easily. Ki hoeche, Shikha darling Bhoy pacho keno sona amar Amar kache tomar kon kothata lukono ache Tumi toh amae shob I bolo. Tahle eta bolte lojja pacho keno Bolo na ki hoeche. (What happened, Shikha darling Why are you so afraid Is there anything about your life that is hidden from me Youre used to telling me everything. Then why are you ashamed to tell me this Tell me please, what happened.), he said with a soothing calm voice.
Uncle Shyams warm eager words coupled with my mothers anxiety over not being able to tell anyone, finally motivated her to tell the truth. Sh-Shyam B-Babu, apni bhabte parben na k-ki hoeche Siliguri te. (Sh-Shyam B-Babu, you wont b-believe what h-happened in Siliguri.), she began. My heart felt like it was skipping a few beats when she began to tell him. O-o-o amae dekhe niyeche (H-he saw me), she stammered.
Shyam Uncle didnt seem to understand or maybe he wanted more details like the pervert that he was. Ki bolte chaichis Bhalo kore bol! Ke dekhe niyeche Ki dekhe niyeche Kichui bujte parchi na! (What are you trying to say Tell me properly! Who saw What did they see I can understand nothing!), he said irritably.
Amaramaramar chele! (Mymymy son!), my mom blurted out, her voice quivering with fear and shame.
For a moment, the 55-year old pervert was quiet, possibly trying to assess the situation. Tate ki hoeche (So what), he finally said, breaking his silence.
My mom was thoroughly surprised to hear the question. Ki bolchen apni Tate ki hoeche mane! Apni bodhae bujte paren ni. (What are you saying What do you mean by so what Maybe you didnt understand.)
Hahahaahahhaha! Uncle Shyam gave a maniacal laugh. Ami thik bujhechi. Tui ki amae gandu bhebechis naki Bol magi, kake chudchili (I understand quite well. Did you think me to be a dumbass Tell me slut, who did you fuck)...
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