Four days later.
Sunday afternoon.
The small colorful fair next to the old park in the city. The air carries the aroma of roasted peanuts, clusters of bright balloons float everywhere, children's laughter echoes, and from the microphone drifts the sweet melody of a Baul song (Bengali Folk song).
Anurag Sir was walking slowly with his friends—Swarnendu, Shubhradeep, Jitendra, Rahul, Rishikesh, and Anirban Sir.
Suddenly Shubhradeep spoke up, "Look over there… isn't that girl Sneha?"
Everyone stopped and looked.
Indeed—it was Sneha. Wandering alone through the fair. Wearing a sweet maroon dress. Her long silky hair left open, a light bag slung over her shoulder, a book in her hand. She stood quietly at a bookstall, flipping through the pages. On her face was a kind of detached calm, but in her eyes lingered the shadow of loneliness.
To Anurag Sir's friends, she appeared almost like an apsara the moment they saw her.
Swarnendu whispered, "What do we do? Should we talk to her?"
Jitendra murmured, "Should we go over? Or should we avoid her?"
Rahul said, "I actually feel like going…"
Rishikesh teased Rahul playfully, "Then go na! You were the one saying you'd ask for her Instagram. Go and tell her now!"
Rahul, in an anxious voice, replied, "I do feel like talking to her, but…"
A hesitation was working through all of them—for Anurag Sir's sake.
Anurag Sir stood silently gazing at Sneha. Alone at the fair… a line of worry creased his forehead.
"Why is she alone?" he asked himself inwardly.
His pace quickened slightly. Without saying anything to his friends, he walked straight toward her. Somewhere inside his chest there was a faint pull—unfamiliar yet dear.
"Sneha!" — A gentle yet steady call made her start.
She looked up, surprised. "Sir?"
"You're alone?" — There was concern in Anurag Sir's voice.
Sneha hesitated for a moment. "Yes… I mean, Kakima didn't come to pick me up from tuition today. I was heading back home… heard the fair on the way… so I came to take a look."
"By yourself?" — The worry in Sir's eyes deepened. This time his voice carried something like a soft command, "Come, we're all here. You don't have to wander alone."
Sneha froze for a second at first. But deep inside, she had a very strong wish to spend some time with Sir. Slowly, she nodded.
The friends standing nearby exchanged glances.
Swarnendu stepped forward a little and said, "Hi, Sneha… we meet again…"
Sneha replied softly, "Yes…"
Shubhradeep smiled lightly. "Found a stall with your kind of books, I see?"
Sneha nodded.
Rishikesh now lowered his voice a bit and asked, "What kind of books do you like to read?"
Sneha, with an innocent look, lowered her eyes and said, "Romantic story books."
For a moment, everyone froze.
In that sudden stunned silence, Sneha felt a little embarrassed.
But Rahul, trying to lighten the atmosphere, quickly said, "Look, they're selling phuchka over there. Do you eat phuchka?"
As he spoke, Rahul stole a glance toward Anurag Sir—to check his reaction. He was still secretly afraid that Anurag Sir might get upset again.
But seeing how calmly Sir was looking at him, Rahul felt a little relieved.
And so they began wandering together. Handmade dolls, glass bangles, watercolor paintings, caged birds—everything they looked at as a group. Anurag Sir stayed a little behind, but his eyes remained fixed on Sneha.
His friends surrounded Sneha, chatting happily—Rahul listening to stories about her studies, Shubhradeep asking for book recommendations, Swarnendu discussing music, Rishikesh talking about food, Jitendra chiming in with something or other.
At first Sneha felt a bit awkward, but gradually she began smiling, speaking, asking questions, answering them.
Watching this scene, a wave of jealousy rose in Anurag Sir's heart. He himself was surprised—he hadn't imagined Sneha would blend in with them so easily. He could keep his friends away from Sneha only as long as she felt uncomfortable because of them. But if Sneha actually wanted to talk to them, then there was nothing he could do.
Anurag Sir watched in silence. He tried to bring a smile to his face… but his chest felt quietly heavy.
Suddenly, memories of his father came rushing back.
When he was small, he used to see his father—getting angry over his mother's slight smile, her talking to someone, an old photograph—over such tiny things. Back then he thought his father was being unreasonable. That jealousy, that anger, that suspicion toward his mother… little Anurag used to hate it.
Today he understood: jealousy is born from love. When you see someone you consider yours going close to someone else, your chest grows heavy.
---
**Flashback**
The clock at home showed almost one in the morning. All the lights in the house were off, only a smoky yellow bulb hung in the corridor, flickering overhead.
Little Anurag, perhaps nine or ten years old, was lying in bed with his eyes closed, but sleep hadn't come.
The moment he heard his father's car, he sat up.
Today his parents had gone to a party.
Suddenly footsteps outside the door… then his father's voice—broken, unnatural.
"Anurag… Anurag… aren't you asleep?"
He had never heard such a tone from his father before. Slowly his father entered the room. Eyes red, face tired and heavy. A half-empty glass of alcohol in his hand.
"Come… let me sit with you for a while." — There was a strange tenderness in his father's voice.
Anurag slowly came closer and sat beside his father on the wooden chair in the veranda. On one side the smell of his father's body, on the other the sharp sting of spilled liquor in the air.
Suddenly his father said, "Anurag, when you grow up, do you know what you can understand just by looking into someone's eyes?"
Anurag didn't understand; he stayed quiet.
"Love… and neglect too. Your mother…" — His father suddenly lowered his voice, "…she talks to everyone. Looks them in the eye. Smiles… with every man."
Little Anurag was startled. His father was saying such things… about his mother?
Tears shimmered in his father's eyes.
"I tried so hard to make her understand… I never wanted to suspect her like this. I just wanted her to look at me, to talk only to me. But she… she's not mine anymore, maybe she never was."
Suddenly his father's voice trembled. He lowered his head and began to sob quietly.
"You don't know, Anurag… everyone looks at her… and she looks back at them… I can't bear it… my chest feels like it's tearing apart… I love her… I loved her…"
Little Anurag stared wide-eyed at his father's face.
"Your mother is bad, Anurag… very bad…"
"Do you know why? Because she doesn't love me… and yet I'm still crazy for her…"
A long sigh.
Anurag sat stunned. His small chest felt heavy. He didn't fully understand what these words meant, but his father's crying, his helpless face, and that sentence—"Your mother is bad"… everything together created an intense discomfort in his mind.
A small boy sat quietly—beside a broken father, in the dark night, while in the room behind them slept a mother, her presence hanging like a shadow.
That night, sleep didn't come to Anurag.
He knew his father had been crying… not only out of jealousy toward his mother, but because of his own love and hurt.
And from that night onward, a fear, a suspicion, was born inside little Anurag—
"What if I lose the person I love?"
"What if the one I love becomes someone else's?"
"Is love only meant to cause pain?"
Years later, as Sneha chatted with his friends, those words from that night suddenly returned to Anurag Sir's mind—his father's broken voice, that "Your mother is bad"…
But Anurag had made a vow to himself long ago—
"I will not become like my father. I will love, but I will not possess. I will feel pain, but I will not force anything."
Yet still… that night, that crying, that unbearable broken voice, his parents' toxic relationship—even today it secretly bled inside Anurag's heart.
Suddenly an unfamiliar sob seemed to lodge itself in his chest.
He thought, "When my father used to get angry seeing my mother smile or talk to someone, I hated him… Today I understand—he was in pain. The pain of love…"
But Anurag Sir said nothing out loud. No one noticed how much silent anguish lay hidden behind his calm face.
At that moment, Anirban Sir noticed him.
Having seen Sneha talking comfortably with the others, Anirban Sir could sense what was going through Anurag's mind.
Anirban Sir (in a calm but rough tone):
"Tell them you like that girl.
Then they'll stay away from her."
Anurag Sir looked at Anirban Sir, slightly surprised.
Anirban Sir:
"I really don't like this habit of yours—keeping everything bottled up."
Anurag Sir:
"She's still a child."
Anirban Sir:
"Oh, and you actually believe that?"
Anurag Sir remained silent.
Anirban Sir:
"Or are you trying to make yourself believe it?"
Anurag Sir:
"I don't want to ruin her future. I don't want her mind to stray from studies to anything else."
Anirban Sir stayed quiet for a few moments.
Anirban Sir:
"Fine. If you only want to remain her teacher, then so be it. Stay just that…"
Suddenly Sneha turned back and looked toward Anurag Sir. He too looked at her.
---
To be continued...