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'Hello, Nita...'
Brinda
Hilton and Nita very busy at renovating the kitchen flooring felt abruptly interrupted by the wailing telephone … one Brinda Dutta claiming to know Nita and Hilton sought help about Behorde formalities that she lost her husband few days back.
Nita’s number though given by Gina Dutta, whom both knew, Brinda, was a total stranger to Nita. Unaware about Brinda’s mishap a confused Nita was aghast at Brinda’s narration. Brinda panicked never to see her mother or her siblings in India, her existence jeopardised. Anxious for reassurances, she repeatedly doubted her return to India.
It never occurred that Nita acquaint local red tapes for any reason, therefore the best she could do was advice Brinda to visit the local Burgeramt in Berlin that dealt with problems of denizens in the land. She promised to help within her limited capacity.
It happened, five years back a match found in Mr Tamar Dutta (he wanted to marry for companionship was divorced from his German wife) for unmarried but aged forty-five, under-graduate Brinda Sanyal, brought smiles to her parents Mr & Mrs Sanyal living around Calcutta suburb.
Most parents desire their daughters marry off well, better late than never. It was same with Brinda’s family. Mr Tamar Dutta made no secret of his, not so good health due to his age, though clutching back the name of his woe, which was Stomach Cancer.
Married Brinda was the devoted wife diligently taking care of her spouse. Hoping that he would recover from his sudden taking to wheelchair, her single interest was nursing her man to good health.
As per desire of her spouse, she never socialised, or wasted time away from hubby trying to learn German language, never ever did anything to hurt his feeling. This was no exaggeration, confirmed by Tamar’s few friends.
Good Brinda never failed in her duties. Her world rotated only round her husband’s demand. Tamar introduced his half-German son to Brinda and he was polite to her. She even met his ex- wife.
It appeared those five years Brinda took her spouse to the Berlin Durga Puja but somehow Nita never remembered meeting her.
With sudden demise of Tamar, Brinda’s world collapsed. People though came forward to help her, even more that she knew no German language, of course, not without a hitch. The mediators who helped made her feel that they were doing immense favour, true it was but their attitude made her sick, sometimes.
Her first close interaction with some, forced her to hear unkind words about Tamar, that he was a not a nice person… She was completely confused to know her well – wishers.
Hearing Brinda’s difficulty the Indian Embassy bought her return tickets straight for India, though Brinda was not mentally prepared to return at that juncture, she had disclosed to Nita.
She wanted things in certain manner but was ridiculed and snubbed by an embassy clerk screaming – “Why did you marry so late? To guzzle an old man’s pension, knowing he will die soon! Shame on you” a frozen Brinda shrank in shame. Her only language was Bengali and it became impossible for her to convey her exact thoughts.
Sympathetically Nita suggested her to become member of local club to know more people and keep in touch. In addition, she could phone any time she felt lonely.
Brinda called but on one occasion Nita felt as if someone was prompting her to do so. Moreover, she narrated strange stories of someone entering her house in her absence, while she was asleep, removing her belongings… even mixing sleep inducing substance in her water or food.
Soon stigma insane, plastered Brinda into isolation. She related Nita her predicament more and more on phone. Nervous, frightened, that by refusing tickets to India earlier, never to obtain any support from the embassy further.
Traumatised Brinda frantically called Nita one day talking about a stalker waiting to kill her. This was extreme considering her saving of euro two thousand, as confided to Nita. Nita pacified Brinda reasoning that with said money and no jewelleries as such admitted, Brinda need not worry about burglary ….
Right or wrong, time around then Brahmin bashing was circulating news, views, TVs … “To go by Brinda’s complaints was it because she was a daughter of a Brahmin, she faced ragging thus or …?” Nita raked in all directions, to fathom what bothered Brinda.
Baffling enough, widows with no status in Indian society too cropped session on local news, to fade quickly as emerged for no or unknown reason.
Salt to woes, awful Berlin bulletin broadcasted hungry-thirsty two kids perishing behind locked doors in isolation while the single mother was away for couple of days to be with boyfriend, or some said in search of work.
Allegedly, neighbours held answerable for ignoring because these children had wailed help from their windows of which no one took heed.
The more Brinda called the more Nita worried about Brinda’s despondency. Brinda uncomfortable with advices that came her way insisted she did not want to die. Her calls full of misery in voice send chill in Nita’s spine. Her gloom disturbed Nita with nightmares. Nonetheless, she consoled Brinda on telephone.
Nita approached the Women’s Association of the Indian Embassy of which she herself was a member and spoke to the then Secretary about vulnerable Brinda. Incidentally, that particular year it was the first time a woman Ambassador graced the Indian Embassy as Chief.
Routine followed and Nita heard less to no more from Brinda; assuming her problems settled Nita wanted to enquire realising it was always Brinda who called. Nita felt uneasy and sloppy not writing Brinda s telephone number.
That day Hilton was away in a meeting, and Nita was alone at home.
‘Hello, Nita you know Brinda is dead’ Gina called to break the bloodcurdling… around a sunny eleven o’clock morning. Nita could not believe her ears.
‘Gina how is it possible, she always wanted to live; what exactly happened?’ a torrent broke loose from shocked Nita.
‘She committed …’ Gina continued…
Grief struck her into annoyance. The very Gina Dutta who gave unknown Brinda, Nita’s number, had never ever phoned for the last decade, though earlier they had adequate socializing.
‘Later never a solidarity nor some pleasant exchanges through times, that earlier Nita provided Gina a couple of social opportunities about which Gina felt proud to boast … but to call and without asking how Nita was, hurl horrendous… that came as an attack. This was how Gina made Nita feel. Huh! Before a courtesy how are you swift with her bizarre info… why?’ Weighing up Nita spewed her thought to Gina clearly.
We Pray: May her soul rest in peace!
This is not a fictitious story but …
Quote: If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face forever. - George Orwell
