“I am dropping in your midst a day before the marriage” – Arun.
Sandip read the telegraphic message with gloating (= excessive) satisfaction. Arun excelled him in all things: a bright boy, a topper; a talk of the department; genial (= accommodative) in manners. Not handsome like Sandip and not a craze among girls but neither a girl-chaser. To the entire world he was unromantic, extravert and drab as a lover. But Sandip knew well – he knew the secret hiding where he nursed his too subtle love for Deepika.
The telegram came from Delhi where he had just landed from Oxford, and Sandip wished that his parents should see him his – prized Arun! And what occasion more fit than his sister’s marriage.
Arun entered the marriage house as something inexperienced before: thick with men, women, adults and kids- awnings spanning the far-flung lawn. Sandip conducted him to a comparatively isolated nook of a room.
“Oh, what a ride!” muttered Arun, and brought out a dainty time-piece – a replica of the Big Ben for the bride of the night.
“Indeed, you seem night-weary (= looking tired for lack of sleep). I’ve made arrangements. Have a good night’s sleep today; for tomorrow the marriage-night shall be a free-for-all (= unrestricted) affair.”
Sandip was indeed right. When they returned in the evening from their round of the town, Sandip noticed that the boys were briskly busy in reserving their beds. He managed to secure for Arun a bed in a three-bedded room. It was flanked by his maternal uncles Byomkesh and Hrishikesh. The latter were twins and in their fifties, but seldom talked to each other. Byomkesh was grave and glum always looking like a child, whereas Hishikesh blubbered and laughed in any company.
In the evening Sandip introduced Arun to his both joined a mixed company of singers. Arun was, doubtless, the parents, and chief attraction – chiefly as he was an Oxford Graduate from Brasenose College. Sandip’s mother treated him to a sumptuous Bangalee cuisine while his sister served him.
Arun relished these effects of entertainment like a fresh air that dispelled the rigour of his late rattling trip.
“So lovely Sandip. Your mother’s hospitality reminds me of my aunt who is no more. You are so lucky and your new brother- in-law should bless himself for having your sister.” Arun trolled (= uttered with effect) these phrases that endued (= brought out) his unconscious pleasure.
“Well, well enough. Now to bed. I shall take you. On your either side are my two uncles. Good sleepers, I hear, and very quiet. It is their first visit together here. Sandip assured Arun.
“Ok, then I shall be able to snatch a sound sleep which is my prime objective now.”
The next morning Sandip slipped into his shirt and trousers early enough; his father had given him lots of duties. How Arun slept? Lilting (= musically blowing) a strain of a song he skittled down to verify it.
A la! In checkered sleeping gown evidently foreign- the Oxford fresher was seen musing over the house-tank.
“Arun! I managed such a fine couch for you and breathing English air in our mossy tank!” Sandip asked in surprise.
Arun slowly turned round stifling (= cutting shot) a wide you yawn, and said, “I spent an Unending Night last night, Sandip.” He pulled a long face.
Sandip apprehended trouble.
“Didn’t you know that your two uncles are world snorers? The whole night I counted the hours like a hangman. Your uncles are contrary in everything, so good a thing- bearded-beardless, glum-bubbling. I had been watching them the whole day, for twins must meet at some point, I knew. Last night I. brutally realized their point of union and God willed that I should be the prime witness of their resemblance.” Arun went on, as Sandip observed in dismay and a taste of humour.
“We didn’t know. They are here together only this time.” Sandip interruptingly remarked. But Arun would not be prevented. His nightmare sat on him like the ghost in the tale. “I heard the thana-bell toll as the guards changed duties; I can tell how many times these two persons rose for pissing. Between hours as I dozed on my right side your beardy uncle greeted me with a nasal rattle and as I turned left, your beardless revered one emitted a fine whistling sound like the pressure-cooker when it shoves (= pushes) upward the safety valve.”
Sandip, by now, could not contain himself. He hung on Arun like a culprit, as he rolled in laugher and said, “Forgive me, Arun. This won’t be repeated. Believe me.”
“The night seemed endless. I dare not came out for your watchdog kept watching through the chinks (=slight openings) for the first glimmer of the dawn. It was around 4 a.m. when the sweeper came and I made bold to come out of the damned room.”
Arun went for a stroll with Sandip.
