The Tibetan Bowl

Subarna was preparing rice kheer in her kitchen, with semi-roasted dry fruits set aside, just as Saikat liked. Fortunately, it was Sunday, and Saikat didn’t have to go to the office. He decided to invite some friends over to celebrate his 30th birthday. She knew well that her son’s close friends were all double his age, mostly connected to the literary field. Saikat was a budding writer, well-established in the tech industry, and had already begun to win hearts with his contemporary fictions. He now primarily spends his leisure time with individuals connected to the literary world, including authors, poets, theatre personalities, and novelists.

Subarna had arranged for an elaborate feast for her son's guests. There was Fish Orly, Vegetable Cutlets, Kashmiri Pulao, Garlic Paratha, Nilgiri Dum Aloo, Mughlai Chicken and mutton Kebabs. Her well-known butter pudding and Rice Kheer were there for the dessert. There was a time when she could manage it all alone, but situations change with age. Mithu, her helping hand, has actively provided all the necessary support for this Gala feast. 

Saikat was in his bedroom when Subarna suddenly heard the sound of a bell. It was a calm and serene sound that instantly awakened hidden sensations in her. It felt like she could see a golden bell in a temple, a sight she had known well but had long forgotten. She rushed to her son's room and saw Saikat playing with a bowl and a small rod that resembled a mortar and pestle. 

"Look, Ma, what I've got! It's a gift from one of my friends, and he is coming over today," Saikat exclaimed. Subarna was taken aback by the bowl. 

"This is called a Tibetan Bowl. It is used in monasteries for meditation. Saibal da gifted it to me," Saikat explained. A shiver ran through Subarna. What did he just say? It couldn’t be true, not after all these years.

She quickly ran to the kitchen. She tried her best to focus on her work, but the bowl's sound brought out visions of places and people she had long left suppressed at the remotest part of her mind. She tried to deviate and started to concentrate on the kheer and tasted it before putting it on the table. The taste of the kheer- hot and sweet suddenly brought about a hearty laughter to focus, as if someone was laughing near her neck- a familiar touch, a familiar smell. Why is she daydreaming, that too at this age, after such a long time? 

As the bell rang, Mithu hurried and opened the door. Saikat followed her and welcomed the guests. Subarna was quickly plating everything before the last minute. The aroma of the food, especially the kheer, was trying to resurface some memories. It started with the sound of that Tibetan Bowl. This is the usual kheer she made today, but why today, all of a sudden, that sweet taste was bringing back such visions. No, she did not want them back.

Her thoughts were interrupted by hearty laughter from the living room, where the guests sat. Wasn't that the same laughter she had been thinking about just moments ago, after tasting the kheer? She scolded herself for overthinking. Then she heard Saikat calling her from the living room. She went in to find four guests, just as she had assumed earlier. They were all aged between 50 and 60 years. One of the guests who stood up caught her attention. He was about 55 years old and wearing a Batik-printed kurta. His silver hair was tousled, and he desperately needed a comb. "Subarna, Subarnarekha!" the man exclaimed. Everything began to blur in front of Subarna’s eyes. Before she lost consciousness, the man rushed over to catch her.

When Subarna woke up, Saikat and Saibal were sitting beside her bed. Saikat appeared tense, while Saibal looked confused. Subarna attempted to get up, but Saibal gently held her hand and said, "No, Subarna, you should rest."

Saikat, silent until then, asked, "What happened, Ma? Do you know Saibal da?" 

Subarna looked blankly at her son. What could she say? Saibal represented a chapter in her life that she wanted to erase forever. Why was he back? It had taken her years to accept Pranabesh, Saikat's father, while Saibal lingered uninvited in her thoughts. No, she couldn’t allow such a cowardly person as Saibal to be part of her life again. She chose to remain silent.

Saikat then turned to Saibal. "How do you know Ma, Saibal da?" 

Saibal paused and removed his spectacles. He didn't want to be the cause of tension for Saikat. "She was an acquaintance, Saikat. We were in the same college." The perceptive Saikat noticed the tension between the two elderly people and knew he needed to act. "Ma, I’ll get hot coffee for both of you," he said hurriedly, heading toward the kitchen before anyone could object.

"Why have you come here?" Subarna demanded, her anger rising. 

"Believe me, Subarna, I had no idea that Saikat is your son," Saibal replied, looking distressed. 

"Yes, he is my son, and I have raised him to be a strong person—not a coward who makes false promises of marriage and then flees just before the wedding." 

"No, no, Subarna, listen to me. The day we were supposed to get married at Kalighat, your father came to me and said you had cancelled the wedding because you refused to adjust to my humble living conditions." 

"And you believed him? You didn't think for a moment that I would suddenly change my mind? I was waiting at the temple, and the bells were ringing. Saheli came with a bowl of kheer before announcing that you had fled Kolkata," Subarna snapped.

" I did not flee. That was what your father had instructed all your friends to tell you. I tried to reason it out, Subarna. Honestly, could you have adjusted to my bohemian lifestyle after spending your entire life in luxury?"

" If I had thought so much, why did I marry you? No, Saibal, you are a coward and left me for selfish reasons." 

Saibal held Subarna's cheeks and gently wiped away her rolling tears with his finger. His touch sent shivers through her body. Unable to hold back any longer, she said, "Go away, Saibal, before Saikat finds out."

"But I already know," Saikat replied, standing by with a tray that held two coffee mugs and a Tibetan bowl. He approached them, handed over the coffees, and sat in the corner, beginning to play the bowl. He seemed amused by the situation. 

Confused by his strange behaviour, Saibal and Subarna exchanged glances. Saikat then looked at Subarna and asked, "Ma, who named me?"

"Of course, I did," she replied. 

"Ma, tell me honestly, could you ever forget Saibal da? I don’t think so. You even gave me a name that matches his. You've spent years suppressing your feelings; I can only imagine how painful that has been for you. You were meant for each other, but circumstances played the villain. Life has given you both a second chance—why not start afresh?" 

"What would people think? I am a widow with a son who is of marriageable age."  

"Who are these people, Ma? Is it a sin to become friends and share our feelings? Saibal da never married, and I know how lonely he is. I’m here with you, but I can’t spend as much time with you these days. So, what’s the harm in the two of you rekindling your friendship? We shouldn't worry about what others think."

Subarna looked at Saikat. She was getting to know her son in a new way, a side he had never shown. " Would you continue calling me Saibal da?" asked Saibal with amusement.

" You would be my Saibal da forever, even if you become my baba now." Saikat winked and left the room.

This blog post is part of ‘Blogaberry Dazzle’
hosted by Cindy D’Silva and Noor Anand Chawla
in collaboration with Mads' Cookhouse.