Introduction
In a cozy restaurant, Shloka and her mother-in-law Jayanthi celebrate Meghana’s first birthday, sharing memories, grief, and hope. Amidst Rabindra Sangeet, they find solace in each other and resolve to move forward.
Jayanthi smiled as she looked across the table at Shloka and Meghana. “It’s been so long since we visited Chennai. How are our relatives doing there?” she asked with a hint of nostalgia in her voice. Shloka nodded with her expression warm and welcoming. “They’re all doing well. Radhika has been asking about us. She wants us to visit soon.”
Jayanthi replied, “That sounds lovely. Let’s plan it for another day,” her eyes lighting up at the thought. “We should plan a trip and what about the dresses? How about going to Bara Bazar to buy some salwars and sarees?” Shloka raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “No way, we’re buying new clothes again? We just bought five sarees last week through Amazon, and now again?”
Jayanthi laughed. “You can’t satisfy a 50-year-old woman with just five sarees. You’ll understand once you reach this age.” She glanced at Meghana, who was babbling happily in her high chair. “She’ll soon be running around and keeping us on our toes. Maybe we need to buy some for her too.”
“I can already see that happening,” Shloka said with a smile, gently stroking Meghana’s hair. “But all I’m thinking about right now are the diapers we need to buy on our way home. The new ones seem uncomfortable for her, and she doesn’t stop crying at night.” Jayanthi nodded, “Sure, we can stop the taxi midway and buy her those.” Then, noticing a shift in Shloka’s demeanor, she asked, “By the way, did I tell you about the Taxiwala today?”
Jayanthi’s concern was immediate. “No, what happened?” Shloka took a deep breath, her face tightening with discomfort. “When I was coming here, the taxi driver kept giving me these creepy looks. It made me really uncomfortable. “Jayanthi’s protective instinct kicked in, her brow furrowing. “That’s terrible. Did you say anything to him? Maybe you should’ve said something about your father, like, ‘Do you know whom you’re messing with?’ Then he would’ve shut himself up.” Shloka shook her head, her voice tinged with frustration. “I’m not sure he’d be afraid if I said my dad was a retired head constable. I made sure to note down his license plate, though.”
“Good, Let me share it on WhatsApp so others will be careful.” Jayanthi said firmly. “Yes, absolutely,” Shloka agreed, though anger lingered in her eyes. “It just makes me so angry that we have to deal with such things. I’m in a full-sleeve blouse and saree, even though…” Jayanthi said softly, “I know dear, But let’s not let it ruin our evening. It’s Meghana’s first birthday.”
As they continued their conversation, the lo-fi music in the background provided a soothing atmosphere, helping them momentarily forget their worries and focus on the warmth of family and shared moments. The restaurant’s music system began playing an instrumental version of “Amaro Porano Jaha Chay” from Rabindra Sangeet, a tune that held special meaning for Shloka. She smiled, but it was the kind of smile that comes when you have no tears left to cry, a smile that appears when memories of a missed loved one overwhelm you. For Shloka, her husband’s memory was encapsulated in their daughter, Meghana.
Jayanthi watched her daughter-in-law with a heavy heart, remembering Shloka as an innocent newlywed, now transformed into a widow fighting societal harassment. Tears streamed down Jayanthi’s face as she spoke, her voice trembling, “You know, I’m the reason for my son’s demise, and you never once blamed me. The guilt is unbearable.”
Shloka reached out, holding Jayanthi’s hand gently. “You are his mom. The grief I feel is no greater than yours. You didn’t drive his car that day. All you did was calling him to come home to talk about something important—me being pregnant. How could we have known he’d die in an accident? But crying for years over someone who won’t return doesn’t make sense. He left Meghana with me as his memory. Taking care of her is my way of showing my love for him.”carassing at Meghana’s right cheek where both Meghana and her husband had a common mole.
Shloka fought back her tears and added with a bittersweet smile, “He’d still try singing in his broken Bengali.” Meghana giggled to the tune, and both Jayanthi and Shloka smiled through their tears. The sadness of the past mingled with a tender moment of connection in the present. Shloka then shared some news. “I have an interview next Friday. I left my last job because the shifts and colleagues were giving me headaches.”
As they prepared to leave the restaurant, the music changed. The instrumental version of “Ekla Chalo Re” began to play, perfectly encapsulating their resolve to move forward, despite their grief and challenges. The three of them stepped out into the warm evening air, united in their love and determination to build a new life together.