Dipa’s heart tripped twice. In one shot, she was thrown back from her dream world to reality. She took a deep breath and said, ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes.’

‘No problems, I hope?’

‘No.’

‘What sort of a man is that husband of yours?’

‘Not a bad sort at all.’

‘Is he forcing himself on you in any way?’

‘No.’

‘Not even a little bit?’

‘No.’

‘Hmm. You’ll have to carry on like this for a little while longer.’

‘How much longer is that?’

‘You’ll know when the time comes. All right?’

Dipa hung up and went back to her armchair. She leaned back and closed her eyes. The radio murmured away. A few minutes earlier, Dipa had been lost in thought about the garden. But now, it seemed to have moved far away.

At around three-thirty that afternoon, the doorbell rang. Dipa opened her eyes. Someone had come calling. Was Debashish meant to come home early today? But it wasn’t Saturday, was it …?

Dipa went to the head of the stairs. Nakul had opened the front door. She heard a woman’s voice: ‘I am a friend of Dipa’s. Is she home?’

Before Nakul could reply, Dipa called down, ‘Shubhra, come on upstairs.’

Shubhra came up the stairs and enfolded Dipa in a hug. ‘The last time I saw you was on your wedding night when I dressed you up for the occasion and went away. I’ve been staying away all these days to give you some privacy with your husband. Today, the thought struck me that you weren’t a blushing bride any more and must be queening it over your house by now. So I told myself I would drop in to see how things were. My dear, I hope I’m not interrupting anything? Your husband is away at work, isn’t he?’

‘It’s fine, really. Come, let’s go and sit in that room.’

Shubhra was a few years older than Dipa. She had got married the year before. A plump and jovial young woman, she had a good singing voice. Perhaps because they were so unlike each other, Dipa and she were very close.

The two entered the living room and went and stood by the open window. Shubhra gave Dipa a thoroughly assessing stare and smiled, ‘You’re just the same. Marriage still hasn’t changed you a whit. But why aren’t you wearing more jewellery? Just a pair of bangles on your wrist, tiny eartops and a thin chain … A bride ought to wear more than that.’

Dipa lowered her lashes, then looked up at her friend again. ‘I thought you just said I wasn’t a blushing bride any more.’

Shubhra retorted, ‘As far as wearing jewellery is concerned, you are still just that—a blushing bride. But what’s the secret here? “Jewellery steals the lover’s heart”?’

‘What on earth is that?’

‘Oh, don’t you know? The poet, Govinda Das, is supposed to have said that at times jewellery can become one’s rivals for one’s husband’s affections.’ Bringing her lips close to Dipa’s ears, she sang the couplet: ‘O friend, why have you dressed me thus? Krishna’s touch eludes me; the jewellery stands guard like my rival.’

A crimson flush suffused Dipa’s face. She averted her eyes and protested, ‘Oh, please! You really are the limit!’

Shubhra burst into delighted giggles and declared, ‘Now you too will be the limit! Your serious days are over, my dear. Once women marry, they become incorrigible.’

Dipa was at a loss for words. But she had to keep up appearances and hide the truth from Shubhra. Dipa was racking her brains for a suitable riposte to her friend’s teasing remarks, when Nakul asked from the door, ‘Boudi, should I bring in some tea and snacks?’

The servant had thrown her a lifeline and Dipa clutched it. ‘Yes, Nakul, please,’ she replied.

Nakul went off.

‘Come, let’s sit down,’ Dipa suggested. ‘So, tell me, how are Himani and Supriya? I feel I haven’t seen them in ages.’

Shubhra sat down and answered, ‘I’ll talk about them later. First, tell me how you’ve been. And how do you find that husband of yours?’

Dipa kept her head bowed and her voice was faint as she replied, ‘Fine.’

Shubhra observed, ‘He’s a handsome fellow, your husband. Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a wonderful person as well. What is he like as a man?’

‘Nice,’ was Dipa’s reply.

Shubhra was exasperated. ‘Fine and nice!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s all? Will you never open your heart to anyone?’

‘I did. What more did you expect?’

‘Is that all you have to say? When I got married, I would come running to you! Until I confided in you and divulged every detail of my marital life, my mind knew no peace. And here you are with your lips sealed! It infuriates me!’

Dipa took her hand and begged, ‘Please don’t be angry with me! You know how the words get stuck in my throat every time I want to speak. Why don’t you of all people understand? Anyway, you’re a married woman. You know it all. There’s nothing new to tell.’

‘It’s not the same experience for everyone,’ Shubhra countered. ‘I wanted to know what it was like for you. Anyway, since you’re bent on keeping mum, I’ll just have to resort to guesswork. I’ll be on my way—I’ll come back when your marriage is ripe enough.’

But Dipa gripped her hand firmly. ‘No,’ she protested, ‘you can’t go off like that.’

Shubhra’s anger melted away. ‘You really are the limit!’ she laughed. ‘If you clam up like this in your husband’s presence as well, he’ll take umbrage. That’s the way men are.’

Nakul brought in a tray of tea and a plate piled high with pastries. Dipa poured a cup for Shubhra and took one herself. They chatted easily over tea and cakes. The talk veered to clothes, jewellery, new fashions, the skyrocketing prices of perfumes, talc, face cream and so on.