chapter X

Now that I am part of the Mukherjee family, I have many relatives in Calcutta. I can’t say how they feel about me, but in my mind there is no difference between them and my biological family. After fifteen years, it’s hard to imagine my life without them.

Our aunt, Tutu pishi [father's sister], lives nearby and I stop by one morning to say hello. As she cooks for her family, I tell her how fortunate she is to have such a nice husband. In fact, my Ma always says that he is so good that he is just like the great demigod Mahadeva [a popular name for Siva].

Ami ke, Ma Kali?

“Then who am I, Ma Kali?” Tutu Pishi jokes, referring to the fierce form of Mahadeva's wife .

Our cousin Munia is on her way home and I am looking forward to talking with her again. She is twenty-two years old and one of the sweetest girls I have met in India. Cute and somewhat mousy, she has a charming, shy personality. Munia is not like a sister to me, she is my sister. Her brother and his wife recently moved to Bangalore and I am sorry that they are not here as well.

While waiting, her father offers me some freshly cut coconut. Seeing that I am appreciating it, he keeps offering more despite my refusals.

Munia finally enters dressed in blue-jeans and a white blouse. She looks subtly different than last time I saw her. A nose ring now adorns her face, but there is something more subtly different about her appearance. I comment that she now looks like a woman.

“Thank you!” she answers emphatically. It’s obvious that she doesn’t hear that often.

As we sit together on a large bed and talk, her mother sits with us and listens in although her English is very limited. I tell her about Shilpi, the girl to whom I am now engaged. Munia is very pleased and I appreciate her very genuine concern for my happiness. Both she and her mother encourage me to marry her if she is a such nice girl.

Yet I am still concerned. After one failed marriage to Bengali girl, could I do it again? I don’t like to think of marriage as something that should be done more than once. Could I start again and make it right this time? After 8 years of being alone am I prepared to enter into such a permanent relationship? It was a one-way ticket and although the price was high, the journey could be that of a lifetime.

As I explain to Munia that I feel so unqualified to be married to such a nice girl, I begin crying. I can’t help it. My voice chokes up and the tears come soon afterwards. Much to my surprise, Munia also begins crying and we sit together for awhile saying nothing, wiping our tears.

Munia’r hridoy’ta bishon norom.

“Munia’s heart is very soft,” her mother explains.

This morning I have finally passed the test my neighbor Mini gave me. If she is correct, I should now be a true Bengali at heart.

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chapter XI