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body, his teeth at her nipples. Dwita tried to move away quietly, but the rustling of the bush drew Shomnath’s attention – he saw her before she could make her escape.
    His face was distraught and angry, and he left the woman hurriedly and leapt wildly across the bush. Grabbing Dwita by the neck, he flung her to the ground, unbuttoning her blouse and tearing at her skirt, whilst muttering insanely, “Why, that woman? Why not you, the daughter of my father’s whore? After all you should not deny me what your mother must give to my father – except that you will give it free, your debt to the Halders is even greater.”
    Dwita was helpless in the face of Shomnath’s passion and strength. She wanted to scream but he had stuffed his handkerchief into her mouth. Tears of helpless fear blinded her. Her deliverance happened like lightning. She saw a naked female spring from nowhere, brick in hand – but then Dwita knew no more, she passed out from horror and fear. The kind of fear she had never known or tasted before. When she opened her eyes again, she found blood and tufts of hair on her torn blouse. As soon as she recovered her strength, she made her way to the house unseen and unheard by anyone. There was no sign of her attacker, for both Shomnath and the kitchen girl had fled – in different directions, of course. Dwita never met Shomnath again, nor ever saw the inside of Brojen Halder’s house again.
    When she was sufficiently composed, she went straight to Parna, showed her the torn blouse and merely said, “It was Shomnath. I want to go home to Mahama.” She refused to answer any of Parna’s questions. They had both left that evening by train for Calcutta. Brojen was forbidden to see them off at the station. When they were settled in the train, Parna had asked again, “Dwita, do you not wish to talk to me about it?”
    â€œNo, never,” she had replied simply in a tone of finality. She had arrived home and when her mother was not around, had cried her heart out to Maheshwari. The wall between daughter and mother went up even higher. Dwita subconsciously blamed Parna for all that had taken place: none of it need have happened if Parna had not agreed to the holiday with Brojen Halder and his family in the first place.
    After the incident, Parna also never entered Brojen Halder’s house again, nor was he invited to theirs. They only met officially at the Superior Publishing Company as colleagues in the same organisation. Parna’s iron claws were out, but being covered in velvet gloves Brojen was not quite able to see or feel them as they sank into his entrails slowly but surely. It took nearly three years for her to get rid of him. Brojen’s brother was sacked and he was banished to a smaller subsidiary company in the distant Far East, as second or third in command. He needed his job to support his brood, so he could not resign but accepted the decision of the board rather meekly for Brojen Halder. Parna was promoted. Dwita often wondered if Parna had truly sought her revenge so consciously and systematically, but Dima always said that her mother was well-known for her stubborn patience and perseverance. She had perhaps resolved to pay out Brojen Halder for his numerous faux pas, both personal and professional.
    Years later Parna had still not relented. When Brojen Halder, old and infirm, deserted by his large family, had sent a message to Parna to come and see him, she had ignored his plea and not responded to the invitation. Later she had read the entry in the obituary column of a Calcutta daily without any obvious display of emotion or regret.
    After the garden incident, there was one further development – her surveillance of Dwita now became a neurotic obsession. She saw ravishers and rapists everywhere and all young males were regarded as marauders and undesirables whose company was most definitely to be avoided. Though she had no knowledge of