Babi’s Gift
Set in a Kolkata cultural context, this story explores Indu’s emotional transition from a dutiful daughter to a woman confronting unspoken feelings within the boundaries of family and tradition.
Characters
· Indu (Bonu) – 24 years old, traditional, gentle, on the verge of marriage
· Abhi (Babi) – 18 years old, college-going, appearing for Class 12 Board Exams
· Surojoy – 28 years old, engineer, Indu’s prospective groom
Chapter 1
The monsoon rains hammered against the terracotta tiles of their three-story ancestral home in North Kolkata. Indu sat by the window of her bedroom, watching water droplets race down the glasspane. At twenty-three, she had known this house her entire life—its
narrow corridors that whispered secrets, the courtyard where she and Babi had played during Durga Puja, the kitchen where Maa’s spices perfumed the air year-round.
“Bonu! Are you ready?” Babi called from downstairs, his youthful nineteen-year-old voice carrying through the house. “We’ll be late for the screening at Nandan!”
Indu adjusted the anchal of her cotton saree before descending the wooden staircase that creaked like the joints of an old man. Babi stood waiting by the door, tall and lanky in his jeans and Ray-Ban T-shirt, already filling out in ways that made her conscious of their
growing age gap.
“You’ve grown taller again,” she remarked, ruffling his hair as she passed—a habit she couldn’t break despite him now towering over her.
He swatted her hand away playfully.
“I’m not ten anymore, Bonu. Don’t treat me like a child.”
“I’ll treat you like a child until you’re twenty-one,” she teased.
Yet something about the way he looked at her made her pause—a certain intensity in his gaze that hadn’t been there six months ago.
They settled into the back of Baba’s Ambassador car as it navigated Kolkata’s rain-slicked streets. Babi sat closer than necessary, their thighs touching occasionally when the car swerved. Each brief contact sent inexplicable electricity through Indu’s body, making her
shift away subtly.
“What film is it again?” Babi asked, turning toward her.
“Satyajit Ray’s Charulata,” Indu replied, noticing how the afternoon light caught the emerging stubble along his jawline. There was something masculine and unsettlingly unfamiliar about the boy she still thought of as her baby brother.
“A love story?”
“A complicated love,” she corrected, her fingers playing with the loose threads of the seat cover.
“Like most love stories,” Babi said softly, reaching out to brush an imaginary speck from her cheek.
His touch lingered a fraction too long.
Indu recoiled slightly, her heart racing.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” he asked innocently, though amusement flickered in his eyes.
“Treat me like… I don’t know. Just behave like my brother.”
“I am your brother,” he replied, turning to watch the monsoon-drenched city outside.
“But even brothers notice when their sisters look beautiful.”
Flustered, Indu turned away, her cheeks burning. Since when had Babi learned to talk like this?
At Nandan, they found seats in the middle row. As the theatre lights dimmed, Babi’s arm brushed against hers on the shared armrest. Instead of moving away, he left it there. Indu became hyperaware of his warmth, fixing her gaze on the screen as Charulata
unfolded its quiet longing.
“You’re squirming,” Babi whispered.
“I’m uncomfortable.”
“Move if you want,” he said.
Neither of them did.
Later, outside a sweet shop, rain returned, sending people scrambling for cover.
“We should take a rickshaw,” Indu suggested, pulling her saree pallu over her head.
“Let’s wait it out,” Babi said, stepping closer under the awning.
“It won’t last long.”
The world shrank to the space between them. She could smell rain, cologne, and something unmistakably male.
“Bonu,” he said quietly, “when you get married, will you still have time for me?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’ll always be my Babi.”
“Things change after marriage,” he murmured. “Everything changes.”
A shiver ran through her.
“We should go. Maa will be waiting.”
That evening, as Indu helped Maa prepare fish curry, the unspoken finally surfaced.
“Several families have shown interest,” Maa said. “The engineer from Barasat seems promising.”
“I haven’t even finished my Master’s,” Indu replied.
“Still, a good match doesn’t wait,” Maa said gently.
“You’re not getting any younger.”
That night, Indu lay awake thinking of rain, cinema halls, and questions that lingered too long.
Everything changes.
Most unsettling of all was Babi—not the boy she remembered, but the uncertainty he now represented.
The thought of leaving him behind filled her with a sadness she could neither explain nor name.
To be continued…
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