The Unventured Passions

Newfound Goals.

Mira was listening quietly to every word that Batuk spoke, as if his words were golden, perhaps some elixir she's been waiting all her days to hear. And unknowingly, Batuk poured his heart out, starting from his childhood days, to his banter with Bondita, Batuk shared his fun memories with Mira, and she gasped and smiled everytime. Batuk was smiling too... No one had ever listened to him with such patience, no women, and here, sitting beside this barely educated simple girl, Batuk felt free from all the societal decorum of so-called elitism. He felt uninhibited, he felt free... Mira was smiling at his joke, and he laughed out loud, he snorted, and he knew he won't be judged. Mira was calm as ever, maintaining her monosyllabic responses, but in her words were a kindness, a concern that was so quick that, for her, it was natural. This attentiveness was apart of who she was and that was, as Batuk thought, the most attractive feature he had ever seen in a woman for quite some time. As the hours go by it became the best conversation he had ever had, one sided though, but it flew, with listening and simple responses. And that's probably what happens when two loving people meet and connect.

"And, here we go..." Batuk had finally parked the car, and looking out of the window Mira saw a huge building with grey pillars and statues of lions glaring at her.

"Post aaphis?" Mira gasped and turned to look at Batuk, her rigidity had lessened to a huge extent too, and Batuk smiled brightly at her.

"Yes, Post Office! The most boring place in entire Calcutta." He grinned. "Let's go."

The office was perhaps built with the theme of a royal palace in mind, or probably it was, before some ancient king was forced to give it up. And the Britishers, so meticulously, had turned the place into a busy workplace, bursting with people, mostly from the upper section of the society.
There were rooms, with nameplates hanging by the door, and the long corridor connected the foyer area, leading into a large central hall where agents of different sectors poured themselves into business.

Batuk was walking confidently, his Oxford boot tapping on the marble corridor matching the echos of its sounds with that of the British and behind him was Mira with all in her wonder stuck eyes her face rounded in a gaped expression.

"Mira? Come fast." Batuk called her gently, and she increased the pace of walking, her hands desperate to hold the hem of Batuk's coat from behind.

"I... I... I'm running." Her dry inaudible voice murmured.

Mira was indeed running, her head lowered to map the floor, and to match up with Batuk's tall steps she has no other choice.
And, on the third floor, when Batuk stopped abruptly, Mira bumped into him, her face pressed to his shoulder, and Batuk turned around and frowned at her.

"Look up." He told her, "Eyes up Mira, look up and walk... You haven't done any crime that you'll have to hide your face... You understand?"

And Mira only tried to understand, nodding her head promptly, and the rest of the way she managed to keep her eyes up.

It took them another hour to seek an appointment with the concerned officer, and Batuk showed him the address in the letter, seeking the telephone details of the said post office.

"So it's official you said?" The man looked at Batuk through his glasses, and Batuk pulled out his hospital ID card.

"As you see, I'm a practicing doctor, and this woman's mother-in-law was my patient, an old lady she is, uneducated too... And, she hadn't contacted her in the last few months." He paused, staring back at the office for a dramatic effect, "and, I'm only hoping she's alive!"

"So you want me to telephone the post master of this postal code and enquire?"

"Well, that would have been great, but I don't want to trouble you so much, so if you could give me the number, I'll speak to him myself."