It's never too late

Days are always a hustle for the mother and daughter duo. While Shweta was always late for college, Rita was in a constant battle with the time where she had to pull her daughter out of the bed and recite the to-dos that her boss never forgot to send just when she's about the leave the office.

For Rita, this might have been just another day but it wasn't. Rita thought she was dreaming when she saw Shweta ready for college. On her own! Without all those repetitive alarms or screams.

"Are you alright, honey? I hope the Sun is still in the east or is it some kind of miracle I haven't heard of?" Rita tried joking and then laughed heartily at her own joke. "Very funny!" Shweta replied with a poker face and left. Only she knew this was no ordinary day.

Shweta wasn't going to her college. She took out some old, half-torn letters, a romantic novel, and a photograph. She searched for the address and booked a cab. "What if he didn't remember my mom, or what if this address this editor gave me is wrong?" The cab honked in her ears while she was surfing those waves of self-doubt and rode on.

It's never a cakewalk to reach a destination within an hour in Kolkata. No matter whatever convenience you use. The journey from Golfgreen to Dumdum felt like an eternity but finally, after an hour and a half, Shweta was standing in front of vintage styled, two-story house, situated in the retro street of North Kolkata. She pushed the rustic iron gates and stepped slowly and silently. The silence was too loud to hear. It was a typical old palace or what we call Rajbaari with a long square veranda, green doors, and long windows, and inner-facing corridors with various types of meeting rooms, living rooms, and dining and kitchen on the ground floor, and bedrooms on the first floor. She felt no less than a trespasser but couldn't find her voice to scream a name.

"Who are you, young lady?" A deep and grave voice echoed in the empty house. Shweta turned around to see. A tall and aged man with spectacles wearing a loose-fitting shirt and white pajamas. After staring at the man for not less than three minutes, she took out the novel from her bag and managed to utter something.

"Are you the great author, Mr. Bijoy Ghosh?" Shweta said holding out the book to him. "Umm, yes. I am Bijoy. Are you from some publishing house? My sequel is not finished yet. You can come later." Thinking that the conversation had ended, Bijoy started to leave.

"Wait, no! I am not from any publishing house. But I got your address from the publishing house that published your book. I know it might be a breach of privacy but this was really important to me and you will know why. I just wanted to talk to you. Can you please spare me an hour? Please?" Shweta spoke the entire thing in one breathe. Bijoy looked at the young girl from head to toe. After thinking of something, he allowed Shweta and both sat on an old antique couch in Bijoy's office cum living area.

"So what do you want to say?" Bijoy asked with no emotion.

Shweta took a deep breath and took out the letters and the old photograph. Bijoy took the photograph and gazed at it with his mouth open. It was a snap taken 30 or 35 years ago. It defined a moment when Bijoy and Rita used to be together.

Bijoy stared at Shweta even more intently and sweat beads ran down his collar. It was not a usual or filmy house where you have glasses filled with water ready on the table for such moments. The kitchen seemed out of reach. She took out bottle from her bag and held it to Bijoy.

He took a sip and returned the bottle.

"Are you Rita's daughter?" Bijoy finally started. "I was getting a feeling of familiarity when I saw you but couldn't define it. How do you know me? Rita told you about me? How's she now?"

Nervousness finally left Shweta. She smiled and replied, "Here's the story. I bought this book from the annual book fair. Mom saw your picture on this back cover. She could hardly hide the complexed feeling of pride followed by reminiscences and then sadness. She didn't confess anything till I nudged her. I caught her reading these letters and staring at this pic since that day. "

Shweta handed the old letters which she had secretly stolen from the bedside drawer of her mother who had been reading them every day after she got reminded of this long-lost person. Bijoy dived into flashbacks with those letters.

Bijoy and Rita used to college friends and one day realised they were in love. But here they were talking about senior citizens, which meant that in their bygones, love marriage was a big no for orthodox families. Rita was forced into a courtship with someone of their status and Bijoy never got a chance to stand up to Rita's family and their definition of ideal family background.

"I never knew she would keep these letters for so long." said a surprised Bijoy. "Her husband, I mean your dad allowed it? Like you, does he know all this?"

"My dad" started Shweta, "is not with us. I mean he passed away when I was only eleven due to cardiac arrest. My mom, since then, has been raising me single-handedly."

"What? I never knew about this! She was all alone this time?" Bijoy felt a current pass through him.

"No, she had me." Shweta smiled.

Shweta had asked for only an hour but they ended up spending the entire day together. Shweta learned that her Bijoy uncle never got married. He spent his entire life reminiscing the before life he and her mother had spent. Love never felt so strong and pure before.

Shweta was late for home. Rita started scolding her before she opened the door. "Where the hell have you been? I was worried."

Shweta wanted to spill each and every bean but thought the better of it. "I made a new friend. I was with him all day." Shweta said with a nervous smile.

"Is he handsome?" Rita was back to her cool mom version. "Yes, he is." Shweta winked and went to her room.

Shweta and Bijoy now gave more time to each other. They casually used to stroll in the narrow lanes of College Street or had hearty discussions at the Coffee House. Bijoy told tales of the times when he decided to leave his job and become a full-time writer. For Shweta, Bijoy became a diary or daily journal. She would share everything of her past and present. Both would talk about books and life all day long.

"Have you seen some papers, old and torn? I had kept them in my drawers." Rita asked her daughter after finally noticing that the letters and the photograph were missing. Shweta remembered she never took them back from Bijoy.

"Mom, actually I....." Shweta couldn't lie. She didn't want to lie. "I left them with my friend."

"You left them with your friend? And top it all, that meant you stole it?" Rita frowned.

"I didn't steal any money. Those were letters. I will call him some time to our home and he will return it." It came out before Shweta knew what she was saying.

"Fine. I want them tomorrow. Call him. I want to know what were you doing with my private stuff." Finishing off, Rita went to her room and banged the door.

A nervous Shweta sat on the couch pondering what to do. But one thing came out clear, Rita still missed her first love. She was forced to move on but she too loved equally. And something bizarre clicked Shweta. She didn't know what she was getting into but she was determined.

"No no no! Are you mad?" Bijoy screamed. "I know it's my fault that it never occurred to me to return those letters and I should have. But dinner? At your house? I have to appear in front of her after all these years? What would she think? I am luring her after all these years?"

"Don't talk nonsense!" Shweta snapped. "She misses you. Or else why would she even care about the missing letters and photographs. You don't have to love my mom but if you love me and our six months old friendship, you are coming at sharp 7 pm. You know where to come."

Shweta said breathlessly and left Bijoy. He sank into his recliner in the midst of rubble and glaciers of papers and scribbles.

Shweta's mind, on the other hand was working with the speed of a missile or a rocket. She couldn't afford to get the day wrong. Rita was too amused and confused to see her daughter so excited but didn't ask anything.

It was seven and there was no knock on the door. "Oh, for God's sake, my beautiful daughter, he will come. Your mini-marathon in this small living room won't make him arrive any faster." Rita's curiosity was reaching heights to see who was this mystery man.

"I am fine," Shweta replied fast but didn't stop walking.

Bijoy, still unsure what he would say when Rita will open the door. Would she accept him for not even knowing what she have been through all these years? But she had kept the letters for so long. So, maybe, things won't be so harsh.

Drifting in imaginations, Bijoy finally rang the doorbell. Shweta jumped with a start and rushed towards the door.

She hugged Bijoy tightly. "I was scared that you won't come."

Shweta and Bijoy, both looked at each other before making their final appearances. Shweta said in a voice that was hardly audible, "Mom, you know him right? He is the friend I was talking about."

Rita didn't hear a word. She thought she was still dreaming. Bijoy took no time to take out the letters and held it to her.

"Rita! You haven't changed a bit!" Bijoy started, breaking the long silence.

Rita was still not sure where she was. But she took the letters. Shweta shook Rita by her arms to bring her back. Rita was finally in her senses and accepted Bijoy's presence.

"I am fine, Bijoy." Rita replied, "Just that, I wish I knew she meant you whenever she referred to her friend. "

"So everything's fine now." Exclaimed Shweta with joy. Nothing could have been more perfect than this. The three spoke their hearts out. Memories, reveries, complaints, regrets about everything.

"Okay, it's already late. I should leave." Bijoy was almost leaving when Shweta interrupted.

"I....." Shweta started speaking but tailed off.

"But what sweetie?" Rita asked, holding her hand.

"Just don't react too aggressively after I finish. I was wondering how you two have lived your lives in forlornness when you should have been together."

Bijoy and Rita stared at each other partially guessing where Shweta was going with this.

"Mom never got married again because she wanted to raise me like her. Uncle never got married because he truly loves you, mom. Even now!" Shweta continued, "It's never too late to start a new journey. A journey that both of you had longed for. I want you two to get married."

"What?" Both Rita and Bijoy screamed in unison. "Are you mad Shweta? You are too young for these things. Now go back to your room." Rita frowned.

"Rita, don't scold her!" Bijoy interrupted. "Shweta, society has its rules. We can be back to being friends but not this. Please understand."

"Okay, I will retreat to my room but I am not agreeing with this. Mom, if you love me, for my sake, you are going to get married. And Bijoy uncle, if love me and my mom and our bonding, you too are going to say yes. I don't care about society. You two should have been together for 30 years now. But it was societal norms that made you leave each other. It's us who needs to be happy. And mom, if you want to swing it that way, your job is to make me happy, and this is going to make me happy."

Shweta went to her room. The space which was witnessing laughter an hour ago, fell dead silent. Bijoy put a hand on Rita's shoulder as an assurance and left.

Rita and Bijoy decided to meet the day next, without Shweta's knowledge. Rita took a half day leave and went to the Coffee House. Bijoy was waiting at the same corner table, they used to sit after lectures. It made Rita smile.

"So, what have you decided?" Bijoy asked.

"What do you mean by that?" Rita grumbled, "Are you really okay with us getting together? She's still a child, immature. We can't give into her."

"I am not giving into her. I am trying to think if this is the way to redeem myself and share your responsibilities, unburden you and...." Bijoy stopped.

"And what Bijoy?" Rita asked, gazing hard at him.

"And to live a real life where you exist. And it won't be surreal. You will be there, Shweta will be there. You know, that girl is more to me than a daughter. She's my friend. A true one. It will be my escape from a lifeless life." Bijoy's eyes got wet while he spoke. Rita too felt something floating in her eyes. She left, but she knew that her daughter wasn't wrong.

Shweta didn't speak to anyone since last night. After her lectures, she returned home, instead of going to Bijoy. She threw her bag on the couch went to the table to get herself water when her eyes fell on a bright yellow envelope. She opened it and what came out of it made her laugh and cry at the same time. Her happiness knew no limits.

"Our sweetest daughter, Shweta!

You were right, it's never too late to start a new journey. We won't lie by saying that we are doing this because you want it this way. We are doing this to finish something we had started. You are the best daughter anyone can pray for. May you get everything you want in life. And you will get this wish come true as well.

Thank you for this second lifetime, sweetheart. Thank you!"

Shweta didn't know where to go and what to do. While she closed the envelope and wiped her tears of joy, she felt soft hands on both her shoulders and in a few seconds, two pair of arms were hugging her tightly.

And all of them whispered to themselves, "Life's never too late too happen. It can be bitter and but it can be like some sweet honey as well."