The Anatomy of Affection, Tales That Touch The Heart

The Anatomy of Affection, Tales That Touch The Heart

1. Genre: Bestsellers
2. Total Reads: 266
3. Published: 06 Jul, 2025

My God Particle

It was getting late enough to be worried. I went to the balcony and looked down. Except for a drenched street dog lying down miserably near the gate, there was not a soul to be seen anywhere. Rain water had puddled under the lamp post. A breeze ruffled the mango tree in the courtyard and a few twigs fell down and broke. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Did I hear a soft knock at the door? I turned back...Thank God. I touched my folded palms to my forehead. Debu was back…finally.

 Debu was my son, the breath of my life. A sales executive, he would drive on his motorbike to remote hamlets far from our home in Konnagar to sell mobile phones. I was very proud of his successes but by evening, I wanted him home, safe and sound. After all, he was everything I had in the world.

I struggled with the heavy bolt on the door. It was old and rusty like the house that had been built fifty years ago by Narendra Mukhopadhya. He had been the renowned Judge of Konnagar High Court and my father-in-law. Creaky and sometimes leaky, nevertheless, this two-storied villa symbolized our prestige among the elites of Konnagar society. It was our status…the Mukhopadhayas of Konnagar.

I opened the door and stared into empty space. Where is Debu? I peered into the night through the cascading rain. Something made me look down. Pressed against the outer wall of the porch was a small shivering figure. His dark face melded into shadows and only the whites of his eyes visible. The urchin stared fearfully back at me curling up into a small ball, trying to conceal himself.

Oh no! I exclaimed silently, it’s one of those scavenger kids…now I will have to wash the porch with cow-dung and gangajal.

I was about to shoo him off, when a windy gust sprinkled drops all over me. I shivered in the damp, cold and chilly air. My irritation cooled, somewhat. I will let him be till the rain stops. Then he must leave, I decided.

Besides, if Debu got to know that I had made a child leave in this downpour, I will not hear the end of it. Let him stay. I shut the door.

With a sigh, I returned to my post in the balcony. Across the road, the wide-open drain was marked with uneven hills of garbage bordering it. Beyond them were the lean-tos and tin sheds of the scavengers. The PWD had hired this group to desilt the drain before the monsoons arrived. All day, toxic fumes emerging from their excavations swept into my home. Thoroughly disgusted, I would watch the men, women and even children dig out the slag from the bottom of the drain. The stink of feces, urine and rotten things swamped my rooms despite washing floors twice every day, keeping doors-windows shut and burning incense. I was fed up with the muck facing my villa. Men and women who heaped up hills of garbage, were themselves so thickly coated with it that they were as black and smelly as night clay.

Tonight, the wintry wind had doused the smell, a little. Razor sharp, it cut through my woolen cardigan. The boy must be cold, I thought. Then, I frowned at my silly concern; do lowborn kids even feel the cold? Still, I picked up an old shawl. It had few holes, but so what? I opened the door and flung the shawl at the boy. Quickly, he wrapped it around himself but didn’t utter a word.

I was annoyed. Can’t he even thank me?

I was used to gratitude. After all, we were an illustrious family. When my parents-in-law were alive, we had been invited to every event in the town. People would fawn at us and I, their daughter-in-law, loved it all. Even now, people would salaam me in the bazaar. After all, we are the Mukhopadhyas; the few pure Brahmin families of Konnager. My mother-in-law had never permitted leather shoes into the house. Mutton or chicken was cooked in the courtyard, not in the kitchen. The hearth fire could be kindled only after a purifying bath. After her demise, I had inherited the family traditions and I kept them going.

My eyes raked the glistening tarmac. When will Debu come?  .......

READ THE BOOK FOR THE REST