SANTUSHTA (सन्तुष्ट)

“This is unacceptable! How can you be so complacent about this?”

“Relax, mamma. Bhaihalcha ta!”

“Don’t you dare use that word around me Jason! You do know that this project is worth 20 marks, right?”

The sharp whistling of the pressure cooker interrupted their exchange, as Agnes O’Riley hurriedly manned her station at the kitchen. She turned down the flame of the stove, narrowly preventing a vessel of boiling milk from overflowing and staining the granite countertop of the kitchen.

“I know, I know. I’ll just ask the teacher for an extension,” Jason replied dismissively, munching down on a buttered toast of brown bread.

“How many times will you pester the teachers for an extension? Remember, you were given three months to complete this,” said Agnes, fetching a cast-iron skillet from one of the numerous kitchen drawers.

“Don’t worry. I will just tell them that I was busy,” he remarked.

Agnes sighed, cracking open four eggs and pouring them into the pan. Scrambling the eggs with a silicone spatula, she chimed, “Busy? What would a fourteen-year-old be busy with?”

“Well, I was busy with, uh, a personal science project,” he blurted out, with a fearful smile on his face. Agnes immediately walked towards her son, leaving the eggs unattended. With a swift motion of her hand, she pinched her son’s ear and began to twist it. Jason yelped out of pain.

“Under no circumstances am I going to allow you to lie Jason O’Riley. You are going to ask the teacher for an extension, and if he does not give you one, you are going to face the consequences. Understood?” said Agnes, as she maintained a firm grip on the ear.

“Aiya, aiya! Huncha mamma, huncha!” he cried out, as Agnes slowly loosened her grip. She dusted her hands and went back to the kitchen stove. The eggs had been slightly burnt, but it was of an acceptable standard. Agnes glanced at the blue clock hung on the wall beside the cabinet full of unused glassware. It was already 6:30 am, which meant that they were beyond late.

“Connor! What are you up to? Get over here!” Agnes yelled. She heard loud footsteps, hurriedly descending old wooden stairs, and into the kitchen. Connor O’Riley, older than his brother by a couple of years stood before his mother, with straightened greasy hair covering his eyes.

“Goodness gracious! What’s the case with your hair, boy?” Agnes asked, completely aghast.

“I’d told you already mamma, it’s what’s popular these days!” Connor replied, with his arms crossed.

Still rubbing his reddened ear, Jason scoffed, “Popular? If popular means looking like the neighbour’s Lhasa Apso, then sure!”

“Shut up you twerp! At least I look half decent, and not like a tiny kamila,” retorted Connor.

“Who are you calling a kamila? I’ll show you what a kamila can do,” replied an angry Jason, as he sprang up from his seat, ready to tackle his brother, who was twice as tall as him. Fortunately, the conflict was prevented by another sharp whistle of the pressure cooker, along with Agnes’ shouting.

“Enough you two! Jason, sit down and finish your food! And Connor, go and do something about those drapes on your head,” she ordered. Both boys simmered down, narrowly avoiding the full-blown fury of their mother. Jason got back to nibbling on his slice of bread, while Connor turned around and reluctantly climbed back up the stairs. Agnes shouted, “Get Alex from the bedroom as well, while you’re at it.”

“Huncha,” drawled Connor. While the boys were busy completing their tasks, Agnes continued with her mission. She opened the pressure cooker and placed liberal portions of steaming sticky rice into two square boxes of Tupperware. Fetching a glass bottle of Kissan’s Tomato Ketchup from the grey refrigerator, she poured a small amount into the frying pan, turning the yellow eggs into a blood red colour. Following this, she mixed the eggs along with rice, and sealed the boxes shut, placing them into two small cloth bags, not forgetting to put in a set of spoons. Finally, she grabbed two cups and a baby bottle from the cabinet above the sink and poured equal parts of the milk into the vessels.

Agnes was interrupted by Connor’s shouts from upstairs. “Mamma! The water’s not running again! Also, the baby is about to cry, I think,” said he, as Alex cried right on cue. Setting the cups down on the table, she quickly made her way towards the stairs. Agnes moved past the wall next to the stairs, which was decorated with painful memories. She had been doing her best to ignore it for quite a while now, but every now and then, a glance would be thrown towards it, filling her with every possible torment imaginable.

Shrugging off the grim thought, she climbed the stairs and moved past the ‘forbidden room’ to the right. Agnes first opened the white wooden door to her bedroom, as three-year old Alex shuffled around on the bed, snug in his furry jacket, bawling over a broken action figure. Gently holding him under the armpits, she took a good long look at her son. Unlike his brothers’ slightly pigmented skin, Alex’s complexion was pearly white. However, the uncanniest thing about his appearance were his eyes. They were a vivid blue, and bore an eery resemblance to his fathers’ eyes, not just in colour, but also in shape as well.

Her firm but kind tone immediately changed to a much gentler and caring one when addressing Alex. She said, “What’s got you in such a rut today little fella?” Agnes contorted her face into various bizarre forms, which luckily managed to get her son to calm down. She began humming a local lullaby, in hopes of maintaining Alex’s calmness. Unfortunately, Connor interrupted her.

“Mamma, can you please come here for a second?” said Connor, his voice emanating from the washroom. With the baby clutched under her arm, she left the bedroom and found Connor hopelessly twisting the metal tap back and forth, until Agnes intervened.

“Careful bhai, you’ll end up making things worse,” said Agnes, as she nudged Connor aside and tried her hand at twisting the sink, in hopes of getting it to magically work somehow. She failed.

“One more day without running water, huh?” said Connor.

Dismissing her son’s disdainful remark, Agnes handed over the baby to Connor and said, “Go downstairs and use the filtered water to fix up your hair. There’s also bread in the Hot Case and milk for you and Alex.” She signalled her son to leave and said, “Be quick about it, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“What about the water?” Connor asked.

“I-I’ll figure something out,” replied Agnes, almost revealing her crumbling composure. As Connor left the bathroom, with Alex tucked safely under his arm, she could hear him mutter under his breath, “Pa would’ve known what to do.”

Agnes heard the thud of her son’s footsteps descending the stairs. After a moment, she turned around and faced the mirror. For a moment, she let the tough shell which she always donned crumble and fall apart. She took off her black cat-eyed spectacles and observed her reflection. Her once youthful and lively appearance was slowly being marred, not by age, for she aged quite gracefully compared to others, but by the strain of life. Would he still have loved her if he had seen her in this state? She already knew the answer was in the positive, but absence helps sow the destructive seeds of doubt in one’s mind. Dismissing the thought as quickly as she had conceived it, she rubbed her face with her hands, and fixed her flowing brown hair in a bun. Taking in a long, reassuring breath, she once again donned the mask she had been putting on for the past two years.

She quickly made her back to the kitchen, as Jason and Connor (now with combed hair) could be seen arguing again. Their exchange was abruptly stopped by her arrival. She said, “Boys, we have to get a move on. It’s already a quarter to seven.” Dishing out orders in a militaristic fashion, she stated, “Jason, take the keys and get all the bags to the car. Connor, you’ve got Alex.”

“Why does he only have to carry the baby and I have to be the coolie?” replied a dejected Jason. However, he immediately relented after Agnes shot a vengeful look towards him. The boys set off with their respective cargoes. In the meantime, she turned off the mains supply of the house. Clutching the house keys in her hand, she left the house filled with bittersweet memories, locking the door behind her.

…

Deafening noises blared all around her, horns honking and taxi drivers shouting their lungs out. Agnes was entranced, drowning in the strident sounds, trying her best to grab on to the thin crevice of reality, her fingers slipping every passing second. Agnes wondered if she’d let go even for a second, would she be reunited with her beloved? After all, that’s where he must be, falling into the never-ending pit of eternity, hoping someone would pull him out. Maybe she could try to go against fate, maybe she could try and bring him home, but how many times could one go against the cruelty of nature?

Another tumultuous sound of a blaring horn brought her back. She realised that her hands were placed on the steering wheel of the old Maruti, which he had bought just two years after their wedding. The children were seated restlessly behind her, the seat beside her, empty.

“Mamma, we should really get moving, there is a bit of space ahead of us,” Connor said, as he gently touched his mother on the shoulder. Getting a hold of herself, Agnes turned the keys in the ignition, as the old metallic beast came to life. Slowly accelerating the car, she observed the scene around her.

It was a hellish landscape, further emphasized by the cloudy November sky. Seemingly hundreds of vehicles ranging from motorbikes to buses were parked on both sides of the road, creating two narrow makeshift lanes in the middle. Various passers-by hurriedly walked along the footpaths, which were already crowded. Some resorted to squeezing in between the various vehicles to save time. Office workers, school students and parents with school bags on their backs, all were caught up in the rush of the morning hour. Agnes could see nothing but cars all around her, as the smell of smoke penetrated her nostrils. All this was happening while the old supermarket, with its decaying and withered facade, observed the hopeless scene before him. Things would have been different had the giant been used for its original purpose, but conniving greed triumphed once again.

Agnes checked her watch. It was 7:35 already. She checked on the passengers to see that Alex was flipping through the pages of a car magazine, slowly getting restless in his baby seat. Connor was alternating between looking at his watch and the scene outside him, while Jason was completely unbothered, fixated on his mother’s phone.

Connor noticed something, as he signalled to his mother, “Mamma, can we give a lift to my friend over there?” She looked out the window to see a boy dressed in the same school uniform as his sons, hurriedly walking towards the taxi stand. He was neatly dressed and carried a heavy brown bag on his back.

“No,” Agnes replied tersely.

“But we already have a seat empty!” objected Connor.

“I said no, and that’s final,” said Agnes firmly. Connor relented, visibly expressing his disappointment, as Jason scoffed.

The seemingly never-ending line was moving only by an inch with every passing minute. The O’Riley’s were not the only ones stuck in this conundrum. Various vans, Sumos and other such vehicles-on-hire, mostly filled with anxious schoolchildren, also formed a tiny part of the conglomeration of cars. The delay only caused the various drivers’ blood to boil, making them vent this frustration out through their horns. Their only possible salvation to this seemed to be a traffic cop, clad in his blue State-commissioned uniform, standing cluelessly beside the cars with a whistle around his neck.

“Excuse me sir! What seems to be the problem?” Agnes cried out of the window, signalling the cop. He seemed far too young to hold the position, which he indeed was. She found it strange to address him as “sir”, but authority makes even the most stubborn bend their knees.

The cop stared at her for a good long moment, filled with a weirdly uncomfortable fascination. It was an uncommon sight for a woman to be driving around in town, especially someone as stunning as Agnes. He quickly came to his senses however, after which he replied, “There is no problem didi. It’s just the various taxis parking and leaving the Motor Stand.”

“How is that not a problem? Don’t you know that school’s about to start?” said Agnes, her tone rising in frustration.

The cop’s expression changed from one of courtesy, to one of annoyance. He replied, “This happens every now and then. It’s just the way things are during the tourist season.”

“But it’s not even tourist season! And it’s morning for heaven’s sake!” Agnes said, pushing on the offensive. The cop’s annoyance was heightened even further, as he replied, “You will just have to wait like all the others.”

“What about my kids? School starts at eight o’ clock! Isn’t there anything you can do?” urged Agnes. The cop dismissed her remark and scoffed, “Bhaihalcha ni! They will reach on time. Besides, it’s just the way things are around here. Are you from out of town or what? You sure look like it!”

Their exchange was interrupted when the vehicles started to move by a bit again. Agnes pressed on, choosing to ignore the blunt remark. Meanwhile Connor started to shuffle around in his seat, as he stated, “Why is it that everyone has a car in Darj’? Can’t they see that it’s becoming unbearable?”

“‘Everyone’ includes us as well you genius,” Jason replied cheekily, still glued to the mobile phone. Connor dismissed his brother’s insight, and spoke with fear in his voice, “Mamma, I don’t want to be late again. I was already punished the last time.”

“I know darling. Just tell them that the traffic was acting up again, okay?” replied Agnes reassuringly.

“But that’s what I told them the last time, and they just told me to leave the house earlier before sending me to the principal for a thrashing!” Connor said. Jason interrupted their exchange when he stated, “We would have already reached, if not for your hair-styling session.”

Connor immediately retorted in a defensive tone, “How is it my fault? Weren’t you the one who woke up late? I was already ready even before you sat down for breakfast.”

“Maybe I would have woken up earlier if someone hadn’t sabotaged the alarm on my phone!” replied Jason, his voice rising in temper. Alex was beginning to feel uneasy, as he could sense the tension in the air.

“Why are you blaming me if you forgot to set your alarm? In fact, why do you blame me for everything?” asked Connor.

“Because you keep messing things up you nerd!”

“Oh, I’m the one who messes things up? Are you even listening to yourself you kamila!”

“Don’t call me that!”

“What? You mean a kamila? Why not? Because that’s what you are! A sneaky, little, insignificant-”

“Boys! Stop for a goddamn minute. Please!” Agnes’ sharp cry pierced the confines of the car. The two lads immediately stopped, as Alex finally broke out into tears. He wailed, as Agnes clutched onto the steering wheel, tired and exhausted. From the rear-view mirror, she could see her sons were gripped with fear, as all their words were now lumped in their throats. The traffic was finally clearing up, as some of the drivers from the other vehicles finally decided to get off and take matters into their own hands, acting as impromptu traffic cops. The horns continued to blare, synonymous with Alex’s wailing, as Agnes drove forward in silence.

…

“How many times do I have to tell you this? I’ll manage, alright?”

“Be practical Agnes, its unsustainable!” said the 45-year-old bachelor Adrian Lepcha, as his nephew lay on Agnes’ old bed, with scattered toys all around him. Jessica Lepcha, sat on the edge of the bed, keenly observing her children’s conversation.

“It’s not, I just need time to figure things out,” Agnes replied, tightening the black tie around her neck. She fetched the makeup set from her bag and set it out on the old dressing mirror before her.

“And how long until you do? How many more times will you leave your son here? He needs his mother,” Adrian replied, as she slowly began to stroke an eyeliner against her eye, doing her best to ignore her brother’s complaints.

“I’m telling you; a promotion is right around the corner. Besides, I will put Alex in playgroup next year. So, it’s just a few more weeks of babysitting,” said Agnes, unsheathing a roll of red lipstick, and carefully applying it on her lips. The baby’s playful cries could be heard, as he tugged on his grandmother’s cardigan.

Adrian pressed on with his objections, as he walked back and forth restlessly. He spoke, “It’s not the money or the baby that I’m worried about. It’s you!”

She got hold of a scrunchie and began to neatly tie up her hair in a bun. Nonchalantly, she replied, “Me? Why are you worried about me? I’m perfectly fine.”

“For now, maybe. But look at you, you’re a mother of three boys who has to work two jobs a day. One is extremely hectic and the other barely brings any money to the table! How long before it takes a toll on your health?” Adrian retorted.

Agnes hurriedly packed the makeup kit and got up from her seat. She faced her brother, and said with uncertainty, “It does bring money to the table, okay? Right now, it’s-, it’s just not the right time.”

Adrian took a glance at his mother, who was silent up until this point. He said, “Never mind that. We had something to tell you.”

Ignoring his statement, she put on her black blazer with a jewelled badge pinned on it. She said, “Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m really running late here.” Walking over to Alex, she gently held his fragile body and kissed him goodbye, setting him back down on the bed and carrying her bag on her shoulder. Taking one last look on the mirror before leaving, she said, “The boys will come and take Alex in the evening. Also, Penjor will drop by later to pick up the keys to the shop.”

She started to head towards the exit of her old house, when suddenly, Jessica Lepcha’s words stopped Agnes in her tracks. Firmly, the old lady said, “Agnes, will you listen for a second?”

“Make it quick aama,” replied Agnes, as she impatiently turned around to face her mother.

“We have been thinking about this for a while, and it is probably for the best,” Jessica said, before pausing for a good long moment.

Looking at her mother with a puzzled look, she asked, “Well, what is it?”

Jessica took in a deep breath, and after a good long while, she spoke, “I think that you should sell the shop.”

The string of words sent chills down Agnes’ spine. Immediately, her body and mind entered a defensive state, as though she were under physical threat. She became more aware of her environment, observing every detail around her. She noticed the room she was standing in. It was her old living room where she and Adrian had had numerous tussles in the past. She observed the pictures of her once beloved father, framed right next to a bunch of trophies she had won during her schoolyears. The room which used to be so welcoming, suddenly seemed hostile to her.

“What did you just say?” Agnes asked, a hint of frenzy in her voice.

Jessica, clad in a purple cardigan, had clutched her grandson in her arms.Adrian stood right beside her in solidarity, letting his mother do all the talking. Unwaveringly, Jessica said, “You heard me. Sell the shop.”

Agnes immediately felt a mix of fear and anger seeping into her voice, as she replied, “No! I won’t do that, it’s unnecessary.”

“Oh, c’mon girl. It’s been well over two years already; you need to get over it. How long will you hold onto the past? Every day, you are toiling like a slave. That’s not a proper way to live for a woman your age,” the matriarch retorted, countering her daughter’s argument. Adrian stood by in silence, watching the conflict unfold.

“And who are you to tell me how I should be living my life!?” Agnes replied furiously. Jessica handed over Alex to his uncle and continued her exchange with Agnes. The old lady spoke firmly, “I am your mother, Agnes Lepcha!”

“I don’t go by Lepcha anymore, I’m an O’Riley,” Agnes said, making sure to deliver her words with confidence.

Jessica ignored the insolent comment, and continued, “What I said is final! You will have to let go of things someday.”

Agnes remained silent, as her heart began to swell with anger. Jessica paused momentarily and spoke, “If you don’t plan on selling the shop, then the only option would be to find another man.” The sentence gripped Agnes’ entire being. It invoked a flood of unpleasant thoughts; like her dignity was being attacked at the core. Suddenly, the two people standing before her the ones whom she tolerated and loved, seemed like they were against her very own existence. She saw Alex clutched in Adrian’s arms, and Agnes was immediately filled with an instinct to shield him from danger.

Without saying a word, she snatched Alex from him, and headed back into the bedroom to hastily grab his bag, leaving the toys scattered on the bed. Jessica tailed her, and said, “Where are you taking my grandson? Agnes, are you even listening to me?”

Agnes carried Alex’s small purple bag on her shoulder, shutting out her mother’s words. Meanwhile, Jessica continued, “Agnes! Stop for a moment and listen!”

With Alex safely clutched under her arm, she turned to face her mother, and spoke defiantly, “I’m taking my baby somewhere else, where people still have their sanity, because you must have gone mad to think that I will remarry!”

“For how long will you live like this? You need a man in your life. Your children need a father!” Jessica replied.

“This is unbelievable! They already had a father!” Agnes exclaimed. She pointed to her brother, who hung his head in silence. She spoke, “If you’re so keen on marrying me off, why isn’t Adrian married? He’s a good-for-nothing bachelor who lives with an old hag. Why don’t you tell him anything?”

It was only after those sentences left her mouth, that she realised how much damage had been caused. The pain could be visible on Adrian’s face, as Jessica stood still, completely aghast. Agnes tried to apologise to him, but she knew that no amount of persuasion would mend the situation. Dejected, Agnes left without uttering a word. She headed towards the door, when she heard her mother’s bitter voice say, “Marrying that foreigner was a grave mistake!”

Agnes, in one final act of fury, addressed her mother, “That foreigner’s name was Marcus. And I loved him, do love him and will continue to love him!” The door to the Lepcha household was slammed shut behind her.

…

Gandhi Road was always characterised by a sense of busyness. Shivering tourists in monkey caps could be seen frantically shuttling about the steep road, suitcases in tow, searching for their accommodation amidst the vast array of hotels in the area. A small segment of the road faced downhill, leading into H.D. Lama Road, where various cars-for-hire were parked, the drivers trying their best to attract the clueless visitors. Further downhill, past the Bank of India building, was another path leading down to the small Daroga Bazaar. There, a variety of products were on sale, ranging from tailor-made clothes to Chinese toys, from butchered meat to ice-cream, from stationery to jewellery. It was a place which was visited by almost all of the populace of Darjeeling, whether it was schoolchildren rushing to buy project paper at the National Stores, or pious Muslims offering their prayers at the Jama Masjid. Darjeeling adopted a whole lot from India through bazaars such as these, including the chaos, the franticness and the frenzy that was common throughout the nation.

Agnes thought of how kind the place had been to her. She remembered how she used to be one of the many convent girls who would frequently visit this place to buy various items for her school projects. Alternatively, it was also a place filled with the bittersweet, as she would often pass through it on her way to work with baby Connor and Marcus. The thought of her beloved trying to haggle in Nepali with the local shopkeepers, still made her smile every now and then. However, it would also remind her of what she lost, a man who would do anything for her happiness, even if he had to embarrass himself at times.

Quickly dismissing the thoughts, Agnes reached her workplace, a luxury boutique hotel named ‘The Sapphire House.’ She carefully parked the car on a flatter portion of the steep road and fetched Alex from his baby seat. Following this, she rushed towards the hotel entrance, adjusting a few loose strands of her hair. The pushed open the glass doors to enter into the heated reception area, providing some respite from the chilliness of the outside.

There were two receptionists, a young sharply dressed lad and a petite girl. They were busy chattering away, when they quickly realised Agnes had arrived. Stopping all activities, they faced Agnes and wished her a “Good morning, ma’am,” in a courteous tone.

Agnes nodded in acknowledgement, slowly making her way to her office, as Alex was mesmerised by the glowing chandeliers of the lobby. She knew what the receptionists would say once she was out of earshot. “Hitler didi has arrived, this time with her offspring.” As the general manager, she was feared by almost everyone in the hotel. This was primarily because of her no-nonsense attitude. While she was on duty, everything had to be perfect. The employees had to be dressed neatly, the guest laundry had to be ironed thoroughly and the toiletries had to be refilled on time. Even the walls of the hotel rooms had to be scrubbed, despite looking clean on the surface. Failing to fulfil these tasks would only result in facing her fury. However, the worst way to anger her was to use the forbidden word in front of her, Bhaihalcha. If one were to say this word, it would be as good as opening Pandora’s box. For Miss O’Riley, excuses were unacceptable.

Making her way past the “No Admission” door and into the hallway, various employees stopped in their tracks to greet her. Quickly acknowledging their presence, she made her way to her office, a cosy wooden room with a hot air blower placed in the corner, she set her luggage down and pressed a number on her telephone.

“Send Miss Rasaily to my office please,” Agnes said. After a moment, a chubby middle-aged lady, dressed in a white polo t-shirt and pants, came into the room. Upon entering, her expression immediately changed as she noticed the baby.

“Amoini! Look who’s come today,” said Geetanjali, as she headed towards Alex with an appealing look on her face.

“Hello Geetu,” said Agnes, addressing her only friend in the hotel. She said, “I know it’s a big favour to ask but-”

“Don’t worry Aggy, I got you!” Geetanjali replied, as she took Alex in her arms, making him laugh in the process by tickling him a little. She continued, “I’ll make sure to take good care of this one. Besides, there haven’t been many guests visiting the spa lately.”

Agnes replied reassuringly, “I’m sure it’s just because of the winter. Anyways, I best be off. I’ll see you during lunch!”

Bidding Geetanjali farewell, Agnes started with her tasks. Firstly, she did a routine check, gathering all the employees under her in the staff foyer. She assigned them their daily tasks, taking a head count in the process. Any employee who was found to be absconding without a valid reason was marked by Agnes in the registry, much to the dismay of the others. Following this came the bulk of her work, she went around checking the empty hotel rooms with her team, noting down each and every inadequacy, even the most minute ones. Then she checked in with the rest of the departments, first the housekeeping, then the laundromat and finally with the kitchen. All the workers, respected her, partly because of her work ethic, but mostly it was out of fear of angering her. Some of the older staff had observed the change in her over the years, how she went from a sweet young girl into a staunch figure of unwavering authority. This metamorphosis would often be a hot topic of debate for the staff during the off hours, with some theorising that she had been bewitched by a curse. The remainder of her work involved overseeing proceedings in the lobby and the restaurant area, assisting guests with any problems and also making sure any of her employees didn’t slack off. A good chunk of the local and Indian guests mistook her features for a foreigner, and would often try to converse in awkward, broken English. They would be surprised however, when she would reply in clear, precise Hindi or Nepali, with a polite and sincere smile on her face.

It was already 2’o clock by the time it was lunch. Agnes was seated in her office, going through some paperwork, when she heard a light knock on the door. Before she could even answer, the door opened and in came Geetanjali, with a sleeping Alex clutched under her right arm, and a jhola in her left hand.

Agnes got up from her seat and whispered, “How is he? Hope he did not trouble you.”

Geetanjali carefully handed Alex back to his mother, making sure not to wake him in the process. She spoke softly, “Oh not at all, this one was an angel! Also, did you have your lunch yet?”

“Oh, I can’t. I have to finish this report before I head out to the shop. Besides, I already had a heavy breakfast,” she said, while her stomach was running on one thin slice of brown bread. Agnes made some space on her wide-surfaced table and laid out a warm blanket on it. Following this, she placed Alex on the table and wrapped him snugly in the blanket.

“Suit yourself. Anyways, I got us something special,” said Geetanjali, as she fetched something from the jhola. She fetched a dark red bottle of Merlot and two wine glasses, which ended up making a clink sound, almost waking Alex in the process.

“What’s all this?” Agnes asked.

“Oh, that bartender bhai is a far-off cousin of mine. I managed to coax him into giving me this. I thought that it’s been a long time since we-”

Before she could continue, Agnes snatched the bottle from her hand and immediately placed it back in the jhola. She assertively whispered, “Are you crazy? This is not the way to do things around here. There has to be a proper record of this! He can’t just be handing things out under the counter.”

“So, I was right then,” Geetanjali said, keeping the glasses aside.

“Right about what?” Agnes asked.

“About you being the Hitler didi that everyone says you are. What happened to the old Agnes? The fun Agnes? The one who was the most carefree and sweetest lady that I knew.”

“What do you mean? I am still me,” Agnes replied defensively.

“As if! The old Agnes died along with Marcus,” Geetanjali said resolutely.

“He didn’t die! He-, he’s just missing,” Agnes said, her defences getting weaker.

Geetanjali crossed her arms and spoke, “Get over it! You and I both checked the records multiple times Agnes. He’s buried under the snow in that god-forsaken mountain. His name has been noted in the list of casualties!

Refusing to speak any further, Agnes headed towards the door and held it open. She signalled Geetanjali to leave, to which she replied, “Have it your way then. Keep on running away from your problems woman! But believe me, sooner or later, they will come back to bite you hard.”

She hastily placed the glasses in the jhola and stormed out of the office, exchanging not even a single look with her friend. As Agnes slowly closed the door, she let herself collapse on the floor, burdened by the weight of the world that suddenly seemed too heavy for her.

…

“It will be fine. Don’t worry my love.”

“But are you sure Mark? It’s been a long time since you last went on an expedition. What if the weather acts up? What if you can’t keep up with the others? What if-”

“Hush! We don’t want baby Alex to grow up and think that his mother stopped his cool dad from going on the best and SAFEST adventure ever. Right?”

“Okay fine! Stop with the cheekiness already.”

“Ha! Fret not Aggy! I’ll be back before it’s Christmas. Bhaihalcha ta!”

Two Christmases had passed since she had had that conversation with Marcus. Two whole years without him at the dinner table. Two whole summers without his chaotic family picnics to Triveni. Two whole winters without his campfire stories, recounting his various adventures before he met Agnes. Two excruciating years, where the boys did not have to make handmade Father’s Day cards. Two long and painful years, where she would weep in private, until the tears ran dry. Two terrible years, without him in her life.

These thoughts filled her head as she drove towards the railway station. Darkness set in early during the winter months, making Agnes slowly navigate the road back to her house. The traffic was still prevalent in the area, albeit less intense than the morning. The mix of yellow and red lights all around almost blinded her. Once she was done at the hotel, she had visited the old Curio shop which her husband had bought. It didn’t have customers, as usual, which only strengthened her brother’s argument against her.

She drove past the ancient steaming engine, the mascot of Darjeeling, resting after a long day of ferrying eager tourists. Then she reached the DRC Car Parking Building, filled with dormant taxis. Following this, she passed by the brightly lit up Reliance Superstore, its workers packing up after a long day’s work. She drove on the bumpy pot-holed road, which had been the cause for many minor accidents, past the various houses and road-side cafes. Finally, she reached the path leading down to Ava Art Gallery. Carefully manoeuvring her car, she drove down the steep road facing downward, before parking her in a spot reserved for residents.

Alex was dosing off by the time she fetched him from his seat. She gently picked him up, along with the rest of her belongings, and headed towards her home, a two-storeyed house with a terrace, built along a clearing on the hillside, with a clear view of Mount Kanchenjunga. As she approached the brown mahogany door of her house, she adopted the unrealistic notion that her beloved would be waiting for her arrival, looking travel-stained and rugged, recounting the expedition to the boys. Far from her expectations, she opened the door and found Jason seated on the living room couch, impatiently switching the channels on the television.

“Aunu Bhayo?” asked Jason as Agnes acknowledged him. She placed Alex on the one of the couches, as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Agnes asked, “Where is your brother?” Immediately after saying these words, she heard a thud of footsteps descending the stairs. Much to her surprise, she saw Connor approaching her, with bruises on his face.

Upon seeing this, she was filled with a mix of concern and irrationality. She seemed to know who the culprit was. She spoke, “Jason! There is a limit for everything!”

“But I-” Jason was interrupted, as he sprang up from the couch and turned to face her.

“Quiet! Beating on your own brother! Look at his face, it’s all scars and bruises!”

“Tara maile-”

“Enough out of you! I can’t believe that I gave birth to a monster. You should be ashamed of yourself!” scolded Agnes. She was about to press on with her lecture when Connor interrupted the exchange.

“Mamma! It-, it wasn’t him,” Connor said hesitantly. Agnes completely stopped her chatter, as she saw Jason, seeping with rage.

“Why do I get blamed for everything nowadays!?”

Agnes tried defusing the situation, but to no avail. “Nani I’m sor-”

“Every single time, I’m the bad guy. I don’t know what’s gotten into you mamma!” he exclaimed. Jason cemented his rage with one fragmented sentence, “I-, I HATE YOU! I hope you go away and-, and never come back!”

Agnes stood mutely, as Jason stormed off, making sure to stomp his feet with fury in the process. The entire fiasco had prevented Alex from sleeping, as he was now awake on the couch, crying.

She took a moment to compose herself, after which she said, “Connor. What happened to you?”

“Forget about that for a while. Granny Jessica didn’t even open the door for us. We got worried that something may have happened to Alex! What happened Mamma?” he countered. Agnes, who was now trying her best to lull Alex, replied, “It’s-, it’s nothing. Just a misunderstanding. But who did this to you?”

Connor hesitantly replied, “I, I fell…” He paused momentarily, gently touching the bruises on his face. He said, “What you should be worried about is that Jason almost got expelled today.”

“Expelled!? How?”

“He almost fought with some boys in school,” Connor said.

“Why would he do that?”

“He hasn’t told me anything.”

Agnes handed Alex over to his brother, as she headed upstairs. She climbed all the way to the rooftop, illuminated by the glimmering light of the various town buildings, as the freezing winter air pierced her lungs once she stepped outside. Jason was leaning against a banister, towards the direction of the mountains. Agnes carefully approached her son, as she could hear him finding it difficult to breathe through the tears and mucus.

She carefully approached him and stood beside him, and softly said, “Hey baby-”

“I’m not a baby!” Jason shouted. Refusing to turn his head to face her.

Agnes calculated her next set of words which would prevent the situation from escalating further. After a brief pause, she spoke, “I’m sorry for what I said back there.”

Jason disregarded her, as he continued to face the mountains, enshrouded by darkness. After a good long moment, he spoke, “He won’t come back, will he?”

Agnes was caught off guard by the question, as she stumbled for an answer, “Look darling-, it’s just that-”

“I know that Pa died on that stupid mountain. He didn’t go on a secret two-year expedition! You’ve just been lying to me this whole time, because you still think that I’m a dumb and stupid kid,” Jason said, as his crying intensified. Agnes wanted to reach out to her son, to hold him in her arms tightly and perhaps cry along with him, shielding him from the dangers of this cruel world and telling him that he was safe with her. However, she knew that his volatility would not allow it, so she just stood there, completely frozen.

“Now I- I feel like I don’t even have a mother anymore. I think she died with Pa, and all you are is just some, some impostor!” Jason said, as he finally turned his face towards her, revealing it to be muddled with tears, his eyes reddened with a mix of rage and despair. She could not bear to see her son in such a state. She wanted to embrace him and comfort him in her warmth, but how could she do that when she herself was full of the bitter cold.

Jason said slowly, “I-, I want to be alone.” She wanted to retaliate and go against his wish, but she knew that the situation was already beyond repair. So, Agnes relented, leaving his son to sob alone in the cold unforgiving November winter.

Filled with defeat Agnes made her way down towards her bedroom, with her only desire being to shut herself off from the rest of the world. Before she could enter the room, she heard a conversation unfolding.

“Don’t worry babe, it’s just a few bruises. Bhaihalcha. Anyways, how’d your day go?” said Connor, as Agnes slowly approached his room and peeked in to see him lying on his bed, raptly conversing on the phone. Curiosity got the better of Agnes, as she stood by the door unseen, eavesdropping on Connor.

“Oh, you want me to go first? Well, aside from getting beaten up, I’d say it’s going worse than I thought,” he said, as Agnes saw a grim feeling approaching her. Connor continued, “It’s hell on earth for me. First, it’s those bastards at school, then when I come back home, it’s my own goddamned family! Everyday there is some drama unfolding. Honestly, I’m getting sick of it.”

She felt a pang in her chest, a sharp pain whose cause could only be discerned as an immense failure. Connor listened to the person on the phone for a while, after which he spoke, “I know it’s hard on Mamma, but you must understand, it’s like she has become so, so cranky and upset at everything that happens! How long do I have to tolerate this?”

Agnes wanted to walk away, to prevent herself from seeing her wrong doings unfold, but something kept her planted in place, making her immobile. Connor continued, “I miss what we used to be you know? I miss how we used to be the coolest family that ever existed. I miss how we went to the movies almost every other weekend. I miss how I could boast about how I had the best Mom ever. And I- I miss- I miss him.”

She could see his dejection visibly, as her pain intensified. He listened for a while after which he said, “Yeah, it does feel like that. Now, I barely have a family anymore.”

The words boldened the pain inside Agnes, as the weight of it intensified, crushing her under its heel. She could see Connor shoot a slight smile through the sadness, as he said, “You’re right, at least I still have you. That’s why I love you, you dummy. Anyways, you go ahead now.”

Agnes was finally able to step away from the door, curiosity having gotten the better of her. She retreated to her bedroom, away from the darkness encircling her.

…

The steely sound of a sarangi player pierced the air, coupled with the resonating voice of its player, prominently making itself heard amidst the swarm of passers-by. The road to Chowrasta was vibrant with all sorts of characters. From crippled panhandlers surviving to tourists clicking pictures in front of the brightly lit red “HOPE” sign of Glenary’s, the place was never devoid of activity. Agnes remembered how she had first met Marcus standing in front of the Keventer’s restaurant, a young, clueless Irishman, eager to join the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute. He had recently been conned a good two-thousand rupees by his “tour guide.” When he finally met someone who was willing to give him directions, he was relieved. She didn’t just give him directions however, as their minor interaction quickly blossomed into a friendship. With a shared interest of fantasy novels and 70’s R&B Music, their love slowly grew over a cup of special chocolate Sundae at the Stardust Café, now no more. Marcus fell for Darjeeling, and eventually, with the girl from Darjeeling. She hadn’t been surprised when after four or so months of them meeting, he had gotten down on one knee, in front of the Oxford bookstore, on a sunny October afternoon, and asked for her hand in marriage, with a clumsy but sincere attempt at doing so in Nepali.

Those memories haunted Agnes almost every single day when she would ascend the road to Chowrasta. As she passed by Das Studios, she remembered how a younger Jason would always nag his parents when he would see the various board games laid out on display in the shop. It was soon going to be Alex’s turn, and she would have to face it all alone.

Agnes walked past the line of retailers selling woollen winterwear, past the old sporting goods store to her left, and into the main square. She observed the fountain and thought of how often her and Marcus would visit it after their marriage. Now, it was occupied by a plethora of locals and tourists, along with a flock of pigeons quenching their thirst.

She stood before the old Curio shop, which her husband had bought from a Bengali widower. It had on display, a bunch of artifacts, ranging from a replica of bronze armour to gold Buddha statues. Inside, were an assortment of old relics, dream catchers, decorations and ornate figurines of devotees. Agnes walked inside to be greeted by a smiling, Tibetan man at the counter, the counter where her husband once stood. The man had a thin moustache and wore a green North-Face feather jacket.

“Good afternoon aji!” he said enthusiastically.

“Afternoon Penjor,” Agnes replied with significantly lesser enthusiasm. Penjor, whom her husband had taken under his apprenticeship, started to work for him after Marcus retired from mountaineering to be with his family. He had a deep-seated respect for Marcus, and naturally, for Agnes as well.

“Where is the little one on this fine Saturday afternoon?” asked Penjor, beaming with positivity. It was not a fine afternoon, but an extremely foggy one.

“At home with his brothers,” Agnes replied, as he fetched a muda for her to sit on. She took a seat, huddling next to a tiny heater in the corner to warm herself up. Penjor joined her, squatting down and hovering his hands over the heat source.

“Any customers today?” Agnes asked, even though she already knew the answer to the question.

“None aji. But there were some people from Delhi who spent a good, long while admiring the wares!” said Penjor with a small smile on his face.

Agnes sighed, as she stared at the orange glowing rods of the heater. She did so for a moment, before addressing him, “Penjor, about your salary. I will-”

Penjor immediately interjected with a gleeful tone, “Oh no! Don’t worry about it aji! Bhaihalcha ta!”

“Don’t use that word around me Penjor! I will give it to you next month and include this month’s pay as well. I just can’t give it to you at the moment,” Agnes replied firmly.

Penjor immediately relented and replied, “Lus! Whatever you say.”

The hooves of the Chowrasta ponies could be heard from the outside, as they strutted about carrying delighted children on their backs. There was a brief moment of silence between them, as Penjor broke the ice.

“Agnes aji? May I ask you something?” said Penjor.

“Go ahead,” Agnes replied.

“Why don’t you like that word?”

“What word?”

“You know, Bhaihalcha. It’s like you have a hatred for that word,” Penjor stated. Agnes stared at the glowing light of the heater and thought for a good long moment before answering.

“It’s what killed your Marcus chocho,” Agnes said with remorse.

“Meaning?” Penjor asked, completely puzzled.

“When he went on that expedition two years ago, he had contacted me from base camp. He’d told me that he was feeling a bit heavy in the chest, a bit out of breath. I told him to cancel the whole thing, that he was too old for it. But then-” Agnes’ thoughts trailed off, as she started to replay the conversation in her head.

“Then?”

“Then, he said, “Bhaihalcha Aggy. I have to do this for the boys, I have to do it for you.”” Agnes said, letting silence fill the gap between her and Penjor, as the chatter of the crowd from the outside began to die down.

“That was the last conversation I had with him. A few days later, I got the news that he had died of acute exhaustion. They couldn’t even recover his body because the damn weather suddenly decided to act up,” Agnes continued, as her eyes felt the instinct to sob, but they were too exhausted to drop even a single tear.

Penjor remained quiet, not knowing what to say. Agnes spoke, “This complacency that people have over here, that’s what plagues everyone in this town. Marcus was different, but then the plague eventually got to him as well over the years. That complacency is what made him overconfident to go out there. That’s what made him ignore the signs his body was failing. That’s what killed my husband.”

The heater almost burned the palm of her hands, as she quickly moved them away and rubbed it on her lap. Penjor looked at her, and he hesitantly spoke his next words.

“Um, aji?”

“What?” Agnes asked.

“I don’t want to anger you but-”

“But what?”

“It’s just that-”

“What bhai? Just say it!”

Finally, Penjor got the courage to speak and said, “Hasn’t it already been a long time?”

She knew that what Penjor said was nothing but the truth. Instead of reprimanding him and replying with bitterness, she sighed and spoke with dejection, “You’re right Penjor. It has been a long time. Yet, I just can’t seem to let it go. I feel like I have to hold on to it. Otherwise, I’ll lose all semblance of my identity. Like I will stop existing.”

He remained silent, as Agnes continued, “That’s why I find you strange Penjor.”

“Me? How?”

“You’re always smiling, even though you barely have enough to keep yourself afloat,” she replied.

Penjor paused for a moment before simply replying, “Well aji, I just remember the thing that aama used to say.”

“And that is?” Agnes asked with piqued interest.

“Let go of what was, and have faith in what will be,” he said, with yet another kindly smile on his face, as another passer by entered the shop, to observe and not to buy.

…

She stood before a burning passage, one which would immolate her if she passed through. Beyond this passage, lay a crypt, completely untouched by anyone for a long while. The contents of this crypt would cause great harm to her, but she knew that to complete her objective, she had to face the demon that lay within.

Agnes stood beside her bedroom, in front of the forbidden door. Her infant son was fast asleep with the coming of the evening, tucked warmly under her bed. She stood before her husband’s study, a room which had been sealed shut ever since Marcus’ death. To face her demons, she had to enter headfirst into the room. However, an invisible force had planted her in place, filling her mind with untrue visions of what would happen if she were to enter the room. Every day, she had tried to muster the courage to twist the metal knob of the door and enter, but she had fallen short. However, Agnes knew that if she were to put off her mission any further, her life would only spiral downwards.

Inch by inch, she stepped towards the door. Carefully, she placed her hand on the knob and twisted it slightly. She expected a terrifying monster to pop out of the room, with the intent to harm her in every possible way. She closed her eyes out of terror and stepped inside. Much to her surprise, there was no monster, only a stuffy room filled with dust.

The room was the same as it was on the day he left. It was a cozy and pocket space, with a wooden study table mounted onto the wall, a sizeable office chair, and a small bookshelf hung on the wall, filled with old cassettes and his tiny stereo. His desk was scattered with notes, documents and the drafts of his unfinished memoir. Also, on it were small, framed photographs of the family, which were now almost invisible because of the dust. Agnes picked one of the frames up and wiped the dust off of it to see that it was the photograph of their wedding. She remembers her mother’s disapproval when he brought Marcus to her house, and how they were forced to elope, which proved to be even worse for Mrs. Lepcha. She allowed herself to smile ever so slightly, as she was now fully immersed in the room’s nostalgia.

She began to sift through the pages on the desk, until one caught her eyes. Written in his messy handwriting, it said, “This novel is dedicated to the strongest, kindest and the sweetest lady I know. Thank you, Agnes, for entering my life, I don’t know where I would be without you.” She felt a slight trickle of water roll down her cheek. After almost a year, she was able to shed a tear, as melancholic memories filled her being. She wiped it off, surprised but not caught off guard, and turned her attention to the small bookshelf beside her.

It was filled with a collection of old cassettes, older than her time. She started to go through the various songs, 70’s R&B Music from artists such as Marvin Gaye and James Brown, were stacked neatly alongside each other. She managed to take out one such cassette, ‘Lean on Me’ by Bill Withers. Wiping the dust off the tape, she took it out of the plastic case and fetched the small cassette player which he often used. Surprisingly, it still worked even after two years of inactivity, as Agnes turned it on, and the song’s melody began playing.

At that moment, she was transported to a much simpler time. A time where she was a young and naive girl, who had fallen head over heels for this charming but awkward foreigner. She was the talk of the town after her elopement, but it mattered little to her, for at that moment, she felt like she was the luckiest girl to exist. As the lyrics of the song chimed in her ear, she allowed herself to be swayed by an imaginary force. She raised her hands and reached out, getting reminded of how they used to dance together in the study sometimes when the boys were busy playing downstairs. She visualised herself in that moment, as she thought of his tall, lean physique and his rough calloused hands, how they gripped her soft and silky ones. She could feel his lips touch hers, filled with a fire of tenderness. But most shockingly, she saw his eyes, blue, topaz eyes, untouched by age. The same eyes would haunt her every single day when she saw her infant son.

It was then that something left Agnes’ soul. A kind of unbearable pain which had kept her weighed down. She cried, after an eternity she cried, letting the tears pour out of her eyelids like a broken dam. Along with those tears, the fear which plagued her almost every single day also left her body. It ached and hurt when it left, but she stood defiant, facing it with every, passing second. Collapsing on the floor, she wept, as the cassette finally ran out. However, she felt significantly lighter, as a kind of dangerous freedom gripped her. She realised that nothing could stand in her way, for the past that was holding her down, slowly lost its grip.

Her revelation was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. She quickly got up off the floor, rubbed her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater, and shut the door behind her. She descended down the stairs, as the wall that was filled with painful memories did not seem so unpleasant anymore. She opened the door of her house to find the O’Riley brothers standing there, this time, both bruised on the face.

“W-What happened?” she asked, as she let them inside. They kept their bags aside and took a seat in the living room, as Agnes rushed to the kitchen to fetch two small packets of frozen peas. She handed one to each of them, as they gently pressed it against their wounds.

“We, we got into a fight. But not with each other!” stumbled Connor, as he iced his face.

“Then with whom?” Agnes asked calmly.

“Some idiots called Connor a ‘foreigner’s bastard,’” Jason interjected, the wounds on his face stinging.

“So, you fought with boys twice your size? And what about you Connor O’Riley?” said she.

“They-they called Jason a kamila. Only I get to call my brother by that,” Connor replied.

Agnes found it extremely difficult to hide her smile. She felt a sense of unspeakable pride, one which was made her realise that all hope may not be lost. She wanted to hug her sons, and speak volumes about her love for them. However, she knew that she couldn’t let her facade fall immediately, as she had to remain stoic.

Jason said meekly, “Also, uh, you have been called to school tomorrow evening.”

He expected a reprimand, the full brunt of his mother’s fury. Instead, she calmly said, “Bhaihalcha. Go and change into fresh clothes. I’ll put some Boroline on your wounds later.” Jason was completely shocked by his mother’s reaction, as slowly got up from his seat, utterly confused by the words she said. With extreme slowness, he climbed the stairs and headed up to his room. Connor tried to follow him, but his mother stopped him.

“Connor, wait. There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Agnes said, as she took a seat on the sofa, signalling him to take a seat beside her.

Perplexed, Connor sat back down and looked at her, as she continued, “I want you to know that I am proud of you for defending your brother.” She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, as Connor’s expression was characterised by confusion. Agnes spoke, “I-, I also wanted to apologise.”

“What for?” he asked.

“I overheard your conversation the other day,” said Agnes.

Connor was immediately filled with panic, as he stumbled, “Oh that? That was noth-”

“No, you were right. For a long time, I have been upset at everything that’s been happening. I thought I had to be this tough and serious person in order to protect you and your brothers. In the process, I forgot to become the thing you needed the most,” she said, as she paused and hesitantly spoke her next word, “That was a mother.”

Her son saw that she was now talking to her without anything to hide. Without saying much, Connor embraced her, and it was after a long time that she felt his genuine affection. She let herself dissolve in the embrace, surrounded by his strong arms around her body.

They held onto each other for a good long while before breaking off. She took a good, look at her son. His brownish hair and his facial structure were starting to resemble his when he was younger. She smiled at him, as she spoke, “Also, you never told me you got a girlfriend! I would love to meet her someday.”

Connor blushed slightly, with a pinkish hue invading his skin. However, there was a bit of uncertainty in his eyes, as he said, “Oh, it’s a ‘him’ actually.”

In that moment, Agnes saw herself in his eyes. She recalled the moment when she approached her mother with the same uncertainty, afraid of being shunned away by her. Now, Connor resonated the same feeling which Agnes possessed when she was younger. She knew that she had to break the cycle, of building barriers filled with hate and bitterness. Contrary to Connor’s belief, she simply smiled with a kind look and said, “Well, I would still love to meet ‘him’ someday. It’s a miracle he got my grumpy son smiling every now and then.” She pinched his cheek like a baby, calling him by an old nickname, to which Connor heavily objected, but deep down, he was filled with a tranquil peace.

…

The office reeked of leather. It was a large airy room, with various distinctions hung up on its peach, cemented walls. There was an ancient cabinet in the corner, filled with old texts and other books. Her sons stood beside her, with fear in their hearts.

“You have to understand Mrs. O’Riley, we are a very prestigious institution,” said the man seated behind the glass table. He wore a suit and tie and had a thick accent.

With Alex on her lap, Agnes said, “But I cannot understand. How is it that in your ‘prestigious institution’ my children are tortured every single day?”

“How exactly are they tortured? We have the most nurturing, and caring environment for your children!” the man replied.

Agnes focused on the offensive, as she said, “Then why is it that my sons are being discriminated and they come back home with bruises?”

The man scoffed, as he replied, “Are madam, that’s just boys being boys. These things happen everywhere. Tyo ta bhaihalcha ni!”

She got up from her seat, as she stolidly said, “Then I’m sure the local paper would be delighted to hear about your ‘nurturing environment.’ Bhaihalcha haina?”

The man’s face was immediately filled with concern. He sprang up from his seat, as he said with an entirely different and subservient demeanour, “B-but why, certain actions do have to be taken against those who seek to disturb the environment.”

“So, I take it you will handle the ones who harmed my sons?” Agnes asked sternly.

The man immediately relented and said, “They-they will be reprimanded.”

“No. I want them suspended!”

“Done,” the man immediately replied, as he continued with joined hands, “But please ma’am, can we please forget about what happened here?”

Agnes looked at him with a displeasing look, refusing to elaborate any further, as she signalled her sons to follow her. They did so, completely puzzled by what just happened. With a victorious smile on her face, she made her way to the school playing field. The fogginess had cleared up, to reveal an early sunset, scattering its orange hue on the sand, changing its colour to a deep orange.

As they made their way to the school parking lot, Jason hesitantly spoke, “Uh, Mamma?”

“What?” she asked.

“Can I just say, THAT WAS SO COOL!” he exclaimed, filled with a childlike excitement and delight. With a fervour on his voice, he turned towards his brother and continued, “Did you see the look on that fat idiot’s face? He was literally terrified!”

“It’s like he was ready to cry,” Connor exaggerated, as Jason laughed along with him.

“I know right? It felt like mamma was the Terminator or something, super scary and so badass!” Jason exclaimed, bouncing off the walls.

“Language, young man!” Agnes immediately replied, as Jason’s excitement froze. However, after a brief moment, Agnes broke the ice. Handing Alex over to Connor, she said, “You are right though. Maybe I did look like a scary robot. Because a scary robot does this!” Then, she proceeded to hold Jason and tickle him, making him cackle with laughter. Connor and Alex could also be seen expressing their delight at the scene unfolding before them.

After a good long while, she stopped, as their laughter echoed across the empty playing field. It was then that Agnes noticed, she felt freedom. She was actually laughing after ages, free of any worry or concern, appreciating the cold winter air that surrounded her.

Jason, who was almost out of breath, said to her, “Mamma. I’m sorry about what I said before. You won’t go away and leave me, right?” There was a kind of naivety and fear in his voice, a deep-rooted and primordial fear of abandonment.

Agnes replied assuredly, “Mamma won’t go anywhere, okay?” Jason held on tight to her, as Agnes kissed him on his forehead.

Upon reaching the car, they drove past the school gate and towards the main town. They reached the area in Singamari, filled with roadside stalls selling hot plates of momos, as college students could be seen buying some fried shyafalays in groups. Agnes drove past the police station, when she noticed something outside the window. It was Connor’s friend, the same neatly dressed lad with the heavy brown bag, walking slowly alongside the road.

She slowed the car down beside him, as she caught his attention, “Hey young man! Aren’t you Connor’s friend? Why are you walking to town?”

The boy noticed Connor at the back and waved at him. Agnes thought that she could see him blush just a bit, after which, the boy replied, “Hajur aunty, I couldn’t get a taxi today.”

Agnes immediately said, “Oh well. We have a seat empty. If you’d like, we can drop you off till the Bata building.”

The lad immediately expressed his gratitude and quickly occupied the seat in the front. As they drove off, she could see in the rear-view mirror, Connor slightly smiling at his mother. She smiled back ever so slightly. They reached the Old Cemetery, as she could see the main town in the distance, a magnificent view of the cluster of buildings, framed like a postcard. She thought of all the memories that the place had given her, some bitter and some sweet. She realised that the past had no control over her anymore, as a new future awaited her, one where she would live as a herself, content and satisfied with what she had, and not what she didn’t.