“Memsahib! Look at this! Isn’t it cute?”

“What is it, Garima?” Rupa looked up from reading the morning news.

“These little drawers… But what will you do with it? Store coins?”

A teacup hung mid-air as Rupa stared at a beautifully carved, wooden miniature chest of drawers. Two drawers on the left, two drawers on the right and a squarish one at the centre formed the top section. Below them, there were three rectangular drawers, one on top of the other, like a real bureau.

“What is this Nolu Kaku?”

“It is a toy cabinet for my princess’s eight birthday. You can keep all your secrets here.”

Excited, she asked, “Did you make it?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, my hands are not as skilled as before, so it took me a month to complete. But I wanted to make something very special.”

“What is inside?”

The old neighbour laughed. “It is empty. And it is not. There are some hidden spaces. Let’s see if my nosy detective can find them too.”

“Really?”

She skipped to her room and spent the entire afternoon pulling and pushing the drawers.

She never found the secret chamber, until much later.

“Who gave it?” croaked Rupa, rubbing clammy palms against the pink silk dressing-gown. She half stood, then sat back, fingering the gold mangalsutra wound tightly against the creamy skin. “It is beautiful.”

“How would I know? As if I can read!” snorted Garima. Rising, she gathered the crumpled wrapping papers strewn all over the marbled floor, the aftermath of a successful housewarming party, and rammed them into a black garbage bag.

“Hey, wait! Let me see the card!” But it was too late.

“Sorry Madam!”

“Why are you always in such a hurry?” An almost forgotten thrill tangled with anxiety. Who had sent it? “I keep telling you the same things. Now see what you have done. I wanted the name card.”

The middle-aged maid bowed her head. She had never seen her easy-going mistress so upset. “Sorry…” she mumbled. “I won’t…”

“Huh…” Rupa’s sharp gaze flickered over several figurines, designer decorative pieces and cutlery, strewn all over the glass centre-table and the L-shaped gleaming black sofa. “Wrap all this in old newspapers and arrange them in the store-room. Be careful. Don’t break anything. We will use them for the next party. Wait! I will take that box.” She glanced at the ornate clock on the wall. “It is one-fifteen. Clean up before baby returns. I will be in my room.”

The large, sunny bedroom on the first floor was Rupa favourite place in the newly-built house. A king-sized poster bed dominated the room. On the left, was a walk-in closet and a spacious en-suite bathroom with Italian marble flooring. A custom-made dressing table-cum-desk paired with a high-backed armchair and a footstool, nestled between two French windows on the right. She often spent hours, staring out at the lush backyard garden and the rolling clouds.

“What is that?”

“Nolu Kaku gave it to me.”

“Did he ask for money?”

“No Baba, it is a gift.”

“It would have been better if he had given you a dress. I won’t have to buy one.”

“I don’t want a dress.”

“Come here. Let me see if it is real wood. Perhaps we can sell it.”

“No. It is mine.”

“Where will the money for your dress come from, stupid girl?”

“I don’t want a dress.”

“I will not give you one.”

She never asked him for anything.

The ten-inch tall rose-wood cabinet looked perfect on the dresser. She could not have planned a better décor, and she could not take her eyes off it.

“Mamma!” Before Rupa could turn around, a plump girl, dressed in a pale blue uniform, hugged her waist tightly.

“You are home early!”

“Yes, Ranu Kaku drove very fast. Don’t scold him. There was no traffic.”

Rupa swallowed a laugh. The smart child knew her too well.

“Anyway, listen… Ritika told me that she has joined a singing class. I also want to join.”

“Acha?” Rupa brushed the silky curls that had slipped from the thin ponytail. Pulling the chair back, she sat down, drawing Anjali to stand between her legs. “I will talk to Ritika’s mother and to your Baba. You are only six, Anjali. Don’t you want to play in the afternoons?”

“I want to sing. Please Mamma. Ritika is singing. I want to sing too. Please…” Jumping onto Rupa’s lap, she cradled her mother’s round face. Twin dark pools, one brimming with life, the other, often filled with self-doubt, stared at each other. The former turned imploring, upping the effect with a wistful pout.

“Ok. Ok, Baby!” Rupa pinched a rosy cheek and shook it tenderly. “Let Baba come back from office.”

“Yippee… I love you Mamma!” whooped Anjali, flinging her short arms around Rupa’s taut shoulders.

“Me too!” she murmured, clutching her close, a second too long. “Now it is time to change your clothes. Garima!!!”

As soon as she left, Rupa went to the bathroom. Big, anxious eyes, and quivering lips, stared back from the sparkling mirror. Why was she still so attracted to the gift? Why the fear? Splashing some cold water, she released the long silky hair and retied it into a tight bun.

“There is too much to do!” Muttering darkly, she briskly arranged a pile of ironed clothes in the closet. The initial years of her life had taught her the value of detachment. It was just a random gift, one of many. Yet restless eyes kept darting glances to the desk. Giving up, Rupa perched on the dressing table.

“Where is my bottle?”

“You finished it.”

“Have you bought another?”

“No.”

“How dare you disobey me!”

“No! Please stop.”

“You must be punished!”

“No. No… The children are crying in the other room… Please stop!”

“Let the girls hear your cries. Let them learn how useless you women are!”

The cries and the moans often echoed in her mind.

“Why are you looking so sad, Mamma?”

Startled, Rupa glanced down to find that she had been tracing the polished contours of the chest. It felt so familiar.

“I told Baby to play downstairs, but she insisted on coming up,” Garima explained, hovering by the door.

“It is Ok. Go, set the table for lunch.” Sitting down, she replied. “I am not sad, baby. Why do you say so?”

“Baba says sometimes you go away somewhere. Somewhere very lonely. Why can’t we go with you, Mamma?”

Rupa shook her head. “I am not going anywhere now. Did you finish drinking your milk?”

“Yes… Do you miss Nani?”

“Sometimes. Why?”

“I also feel sad when I miss you, when you stop talking to me and stay alone in this room.”

“Sorry, baby.” Rupa kissed a chubby hand. “Sometimes, Mamma just needs to be alone.”

“Oh! Do you miss Nana?”

“Let’s have lunch. Then you can nap for an hour and then we will go to the park.”

But Anjali was not listening. “What’s this, Mamma? I have never seen it before.”

“It is… A treasure box. Someone gave it to us last night.”

“Treasss… What?”

“A treasure box.” Maybe showing it to Anjali would recreate the old magic and erase the sorrow. “Come here.”

Carrying it, they climbed up on the bed. “You can keep all your precious things in it,” revealed Rupa, opening the tiny drawer on the top left corner.

“Mini cannot sleep inside.” Mini was Anjali’s best friend, her latest Barbie doll.

“No. But you can keep your favourite ring, or the sea-shells you collected during our trip to Bali last year, or the shiny stones from Dubai.”

“Will they be safe?” Small pudgy fingers inspected the miniature cabinet.

“Of course.”

Anjali pulled out the centre square drawer and peered inside.

“And in one of these drawers, you can whisper your dreams,” suggested Rupa.

“Won’t they fly away?”

“No baby, we will close it.”

“But the next time?”

“By then the dreams will already feel at home. So, they won’t escape.”

“What happens to these dreams?”

“They remain secure until you fulfill them as you grow up.”

“And then?”

“They fly away to the stars.”

“Why?”

“They wait for other little angels to call them to their homes.”

“Oh!” Frowning, Anjali looked out at the cloudless blue sky and pondered for a few minutes.

“What about my secrets?” The child asked solemnly.

“You should share them with Mamma first and then we can store them in another drawer.”

“Do I have to tell you all my secrets?”

“Yes.” The firm tone was belied by a soft smile. Taking one little hand in hers, Rupa explained, “If Mamma knows all your secrets, she can help protect them.”

“Okay.” She did not sound convinced. “How do you know all this?” She asked suspiciously.

“When I was a little older than you, I had a box just like this.”

“Where is it now?”

“I lost it.”

“Ma, where is the chest of drawers?”

“What chest of drawers?”

“Arre, Nolu Kaku’s gift, Ma. I always kept it in the bottom shelf of my cupboard.”

No Reply.

“Ma! Tell me, have you seen it?”

“I gifted it to Shashi.”

“What? Why? It was mine.”

“It was Shashi’s daughter’s engagement. How could I go empty-handed?”

“You should have told me.”

“And listened to another lecture! Just because you are earning now… With your father gone… I thought of not going. But Shashi would have demanded an explanation. What could I say?”

“So, you gave away my most cherished gift.”

“You simply kept it in the cupboard.”

“I loved it.”

“It is just a useless thing.”

“Then why did you gift it?”

“Because it is the only thing in the house that still looked new.”

“And my treasures?”

“Those old trinkets? I threw them.”

And with it my dreams and my secrets.

“Rupa! Anjali!” Romen called out from the door.

“Baba!” screamed Anjali, scrambling up to stand on the bed.

“Hey, shona!” She lunged into his outstretched arms. “Oh, you are heavy!” He teased, tossing her up in the air, then cradling her against his broad chest. “How was school?”

“It was fun! My English teacher said…” Nodding absently, he stretched out an arm as Rupa rose to join them. Hugging her close, he kissed her forehead. They were about the same height. So, for the last eight years, Rupa had stopped wearing heels.

Chattering non-stop, Anjali squeezed Romen’s neck, smacking wetly on his stubbled cheek. “Issshhh! It hurts!”

Romen chuckled, rubbing his cheek against hers repeatedly.

“Isshhhh! Baba!” she shrieked, wriggling vigorously.

“OK… Ok… Time for lunch. Garima!”

“We can take her. Won’t you have lunch?”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Haan Saheb!” The maid stood just outside the door.

“Start feeding, Baby. We are coming in five minutes.”

“Come fast, Baba. I have lots to tell you,” warned Anjali, as Garima led her out.

“Coming, shona!” replied Romen, grinning.

“What is it? You are back very early.” The long fingers tapping his arm betrayed her uneasiness.

“Muaahh!” He kissed the parted lips.

“What are you doing!” hissed Rupa, desperately hoping that Romen had not smelt the spicy chaat that she often indulged in when her fitness-freak of a husband was not around.

“Kissing my wife.”

“Anyone can walk in.” Nervously, she tugged at her dressing gown. The voluptuous figure contradicted the daily walks and yoga sessions.

“No one is here. In any case, you tempt me so much by looking not a day older than twenty.”

“I am twenty-eight!”

“Just a number!” He grinned. “I am taking you out for dinner.”

“We had a party last night.”

“So, what? I am in a mood to celebrate. We bagged a big construction deal today. You really are my lucky charm! From a rented studio on the outskirts of Kolkata to this spacious five-bedroom bungalow with custom-made interiors within Salt Lake City, the journey has been pretty eventful.”

“Congratulations! It was all your hard work!”

“Not at all. I will never forget those days when you worked alongside me on construction sites after I persuaded you to run away.”

“It was worth it, because I was with you. Not constantly fighting the lecherous advances of my old boss in the travel agency.”

“I wish you would come back to office.”

Rupa shook her head. “You don’t need me anymore. Our home and our precious child do.”

“I will always need you.” Romen hugged her close. “But I understand. I am just sad that your Ma could not see this house and know how you worked hard with top designers to make it a ‘Inside Outside’ magazine feature.”

“Rupa, there is no rice in the house. Can you get some on your way back from the travel agency?”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Have you paid all the bills?”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Can you get another advance? The festivals will soon start.”

“No, Ma.”

“Why can’t you ask your boss?”

“Because I have not repaid my previous loan.”

“I can’t believe your father left us like this. If he was still alive, I would not have to think about all these things?”

“Really, Ma?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were we better off when he was there?”

“Of course. You would have gone to college. Not working at eighteen.”

“And Sona?”

No reply.

“When will you stop pretending, Ma?”

“What do you mean?”

“That Baba’s neglect killed his daughter, my younger sister, your Sona.”

The resounding slap had made a permanent imprint on her heart.

“She would have been happy,” mumbled Rupa against his shoulder. “And this is a home.”

“It is and the credit goes to you. Hey! What is this?” Releasing her, he picked up the miniature chest of drawers.

“A gift. Garima threw away the card.”

“It looks like real wood. But quite useless.” Romen flicked it around. “What do we do with it?”

“It is quite cute,” replied Rupa, reaching for it. “I had something like this when… Oops careful…No!”

It slipped from their fingers, bounced against the bed and fell to the floor with a thud. Two drawers jutted out, and a piece of paper, folded tightly flew out.

“What is that?” asked Romen.

Rupa picked it up. Four notes were crumpled together.

“10:00 am sharp. In the park.” She read aloud. A masculine scrawl but there was no name nor date. “Why didn’t you come? I waited for an hour.” The third one revealed a little more. “Please divorce him. He can never make you happy. I can. I will.” The last one was full of blotches and almost unreadable. “I waited.”

“Is one of our friends having an affair?” exclaimed Romen, reading the notes again from over her shoulder. “I cannot believe it? Who is it?”

“Of course not, Romen!” retorted Rupa, folding them back with trembling fingers. “These look very old. The box must have changed a couple of hands since then.”

“Typical Indians! We must recycle gifts. But I expected our friends to be more careful. At least they could have thrown away the notes. The thing seems to have been polished recently.”

“Hmm…” She yearned to re-read the notes. Where there more? Would she rediscover the concealed slot?

“Darling, what do you think?” The impatient tone caught her attention.

“Huh! About what? Oh yes… I think maybe they did not find them. The notes must have been hidden in one of the secret spaces.”

“Secret space?”

“The one that I had, had two. Cleverly crafted within the drawers.”

“Really! You had one too? Where is it?”

“Lost.”

“Oh! I guess it is useless in any case. Stupid gift, I must say. How did they think it would match our décor, I cannot imagine! Throw it away if you wish.”

Before she could protest, he swore aloud. “Shit!” Glancing at his Titan wristwatch, he hurried to the door. “I need to take a call in ten minutes. Sorry, I must rush. Need to work for couple of hours and then we can go out.”

“But your lunch?”

“Send it up. Tell Garima to be as silent as possible.” Blowing a kiss, he strode down to the corridor to his den at the far end.

* * *

“Mamma, you must tell Mini a bedtime story,” insisted Anjali, placing the doll at the centre of the bed.

“Why don’t you listen to some music?” Rupa drew the white linen curtains, adding deeper shadows to her bedroom. She always preferred to keep an eye on Anjali when she napped, and if on somedays, she dozed off for a few minutes, no one was the wiser.

“No. The butterfly story. It is our favourite.”

“As you wish, my princess,” sighed Rupa, drawing the covers over them. Perched on the edge, she leaned against the headboard. Imitating her mother, Anjali gently patted Mini rhythmically. Rupa smothered a laugh and launched into the tale.

Fifteen minutes later, Anjali stirred. “Mini is asleep!” she whispered. Slipping down the side, she tip-toed around to the dressing table. Still drowsy, Rupa watched from under droopy eyelids.

Like a magpie, the little girl went straight for the new article.

“What are you doing?” whispered Rupa, watching her inspect it.

“Looking for the right place to lock away a secret.”

“Oh baby!” murmured Rupa, turning away to hide the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

“N…”

“What?” Rupa sat up.

“Something seems to be written underneath.” The child was rubbing a corner of its base. “N…”

Jumping up, Rupa snatched it from her hands. Startled Anjali stepped back, knocking her toes against the foot of the bed. She howled.

“Memsahib? Kya hua?” called out Garima from below stairs.

Rupa’s hands shook. She retraced the faded engraving. N… R… Nolini Roy…

“Rupa? Ruuuupa?” shouted Romen from his study. “Why is Anjali crying?”

A swelling roar within deafened her. She half pulled out the last drawer. Quivering fingers pressed the sides. With a pop, the drawer flew out. A yellow crumpled note lay stuck within.

“I killed Baba.”