Bhaskar Chattopadhyay - 14 Stories That Inspired Satyajit Ray

PRABHAT KUMAR MUKHOPADHYAY

T he long February night refused to let the dawn break. Umaprasad woke up. He looked for his wife under the quilt, but couldnt find her. His searching hand finally located his sixteen-year old wife curled up in one corner of the bed outside the warmth of the quilt. He slowly shifted towards his sleeping wife and carefully put the quilt back on her, stretching his hand towards her legs to ensure they were fully covered too.

Umaprasad was in his twenties. He had recently mastered Sanskrit and was now turning his attention towards Persian. His mother had passed away, and his father was an erudite man and an extremely pious devotee of Goddess Kali. He was, at the same time, the highly respected zamindar of the village. Many believed that Umaprasads father Kalikinkar Ray was a spiritually enlightened man, personally blessed by Kali herself. Every villager, irrespective of age, revered him as much as they revered their gods.

Umaprasad had only recently begun to enjoy the heady romance of newly married life, though he had been married for as many as five or six years; it was only since a short time ago that he had had the pleasure of his wifes intimate company. Dayamoyee was her name.

Umaprasad put his hand lightly on his wifes waist, only to find it had turned cold. Very carefully, he kissed her face lightly.

Immediately, the pace of her breathing changed. Umaprasad realized his wife was now awake. He softly called her name, Daya?

Daya said, in a long-drawn and loving intonation, What?

Are you awake?

Daya gulped and said, No, Im sleeping.

Umaprasad fondly drew his wife close to his chest and said, Oh you are sleeping, are you? I wonder who responded just now?

Daya immediately realized her mistake. She said, I was sleeping earlier. And then I woke up.

Umaprasad asked in a naughty voice, When did you wake up?

When do you think? Right then

When exactly?

I dont know. Daya tried in vain to wriggle out of her husbands warm embrace.

For some time, Dayas shyness wouldnt let her say when exactly she woke up. But Umaprasad wouldnt accept anything but a direct answer. After a few moments, she gave up and said, Right then, when you and stopped short.

When Iwhat?

When you kissed me. Happy now? Uff

There were still a few hours left for dawns faint light to start creeping in. The couple began to talk. Much of the conversation didnt make any sense at all, as is often the case with conversations between lovers. Its interesting to note that hundreds of years ago, even our ancestors ancestors, in the prime of their youth, were as restless and as fickle in romance as we are today. Despite coming from a family with its roots so deeply entrenched in religion and philosophy, the young Umaprasad had not, even once, mentioned matters of either to his young wife.