"Hey Amu, what are you thinking?" Ankita asked Amba.
"I'm wondering if I'll see Suman da today."
"And what if you do? Tell me, tell me!" Ankita asked with a hint of curiosity.
"Nothing much. I just want to give him the new book. We actually met here the other day."
"You didn't tell me that!" Ankita said with surprise in her voice.
"That day I waited a long time, but didn't end up seeing Suman."
Ankita said to Amba, "Okay, do one thing. Since I'm already in touch with Rinki di, just give me the book—I'll give it to him. It's not like you'll meet Suman da here every day, right?"
Amba agreed. She realized that Ankita was right. All that mattered was that the book reached Suman da. So without further hesitation, she handed the book over.
---
Many days passed, but Amba didn't get to meet Suman.
Ankita had told her she had given him the book. But Amba never got to know how Suman felt about it. So many times she had wanted to ask, but the words never made it past her lips. Since she hadn't seen him in so long, her heart felt heavy all the time.
One day, the two friends went shopping in Kolkata for the Saturday puja. After they finished shopping, they were eating phuchka from a roadside stall when suddenly a deep, familiar voice came from behind:
"Hello madam, how have you been?"
It was the voice Amba had been waiting to hear for so long. But she couldn't say a word—she just stared. Ankita, however, responded cheerfully, "Good!"
Suman said to Ankita, "Thank you, madam, for the gift of the book. A new writer! The book's name is Ekla Akash and I think the author's name is Durgarani Sur. The writing was quite fluent."
They kept talking for a long time. Even after saying so much, Suman didn't once mention Amba's name. Amba's eyes suddenly started burning—it was uncertain whether they would release fire or tears.
Then Suman said, "There's an ice cream parlor nearby, let's go there."
Evening was falling, so Amba said, "Not today. I've got two tuitions."
But Ankita said, "You go home. I'm definitely going for ice cream."
Amba understood. She didn't say anything more. She was never one to speak her heart.
So as they walked away, she stood there for a while, silently staring in that direction. Then, letting out a long sigh, she slowly walked away like a tired, defeated soldier.
—
Tomar rani swamir gorbe gorobini।
Amar ranir gorbe ami gorobini।।
Tomar rani swamir jonno tyage rajya path।
Amar rani desher jonno tyage sheshswash।।
Tomar rani boddo nipun rondhon potiyosi।
Amar rani rono nipun judhdho potiyosi। ।
("Your queen is proud because of her husband.
My queen makes me proud because of who she is.
Your queen gave up her throne for her husband.
My queen gave her last breath for her country.
Your queen is an expert in cooking.
My queen is an expert in battle.")
"Wow, this poem really touched my heart," said Suman with admiration.
"You like poetry, Somu? You never told me that," Ankita said, her voice tinged with a bit of hurt.
"When did I ever get the chance to say it?" he replied.
"Whenever we meet, your friend Amba is always there. And she always looks at me like I'm some kind of demon. How am I supposed to talk naturally?"
"Thank God I gave you my number that day, or else we'd never have had these sweet moments," Suman added.
There was loud laughter from the other end of the line.
A few minutes later came a question: "Are you afraid of Amba?"
"When did I ever say that?" Suman replied with a bit of irritation.
"I'm not afraid. But she always has this expression, like she's furious with me."
They were sitting under a banyan tree by the Ganges, talking. They didn't realize that across the street, someone had been silently following them like a shadow—listening to their every word. His jaw had tightened, and his eyes filled with jealousy.
It was Amba.
She felt ashamed of herself. She had always considered Ankita her best friend. And yet, this is what she had done. She had hidden such a huge truth—that she loved Suman.
Amba had told her everything about her feelings. At that time, Ankita had said nothing.
"Ugh, how disgusting," Amba scolded herself.
But is love a sin? How could she blame Ankita?
Slowly, the evening began to deepen. The street lamps lit up. But before Amba's eyes, everything kept going dark again and again.
Will girls like Amba always be denied love? Forever abandoned?
No, no! I am today's Amba. I will get my shalya.
No one will be able to stop me.