No matter how much I debated with Aabir uncle, he didn't pay heed to any of my arguments.
"No, I won't listen to it. You aren't leaving this house. And that's final."
It had been a couple of months since I had first arrived in Kolkata and was still pursuing my job hunting. A couple of interviews and failed attempts at competitive exams for Government jobs was all I had to show for my time spent there. On top of that, I was at Aabir uncle's house all the while and he wouldn't listen to my request for renting a place out on my own.
"Aarti, please talk some sense into this boy. I give up." He would finally declared and disappear into the bedroom to get dressed and would soon go out with a folded bag to the market. Sunday morning was all I got to make my case every week and Aabir uncle would turn me down ritualistically.
As always Aarti aunty would be seated at the dining table either going through the newspaper or making preparations for the day's lunch.
"Dhruv beta, are you having any trouble here living with us? If there is any such thing, then please tell us. This too is your home," she would ask me every time.
I couldn't further humiliate them and myself with an answer. The discussion would then be suspended until next weekend and with some new strategy.
That day was no different.
Uncle had gone out to the market after my yet another failed attempt to make him listen to my argument. Aarti aunty was seated at the dining table browsing through various Youtube channels for some cooking recipes she wanted to try out for lunch. And I sat dejectedly on the living room sofa looking at the speeding fan above my head, a million thoughts rushed through my mind, like always.
Suddenly, the bell rang announcing a visitor. Sparing a quick glance at the watch I quickly got up to open the door all the while wondering why was Aabir uncle back so early.
But I was wrong. There were two strangers standing at the door, one middle aged man and another younger guy, who was probably just a couple of years older than me by the looks of it.
"Is Aabir da home?" the middle aged man asked, as I stood there just looking at them.
However, before I could ask anything of them, Aarti aunty's voice came out from within. "Who is it Dhruv?"
"Uncle just went out to the market," I answered the two confused looking gentlemen. "And you are-?" But the enquiry remained unmade.
"Arree Priyo da, it is you-." I heard aunty's voice just behind me, as she had come to the door herself.
"Please come in," she added.
"He is uncle's colleague," she whispered to me, as both men walked by us and into the living room.
"This is Deepak. He is the Junior Editor at SHIKSHA and often works as my assistant from time to time," Priyo da or Priyobrata, as I would later come to know, introduced the younger man, with a slight smile.
"Old habits die hard, uncle," Deepak spoke up for the first time.
"And you must be-" Priyobrata began to enquire about me and was answered by Aarti aunty.
"This is Dhruv, our nephew from Siliguri. He is staying with us while he is in Kolkata."
"Oh yes. So this is Dhruv. Aabir da did say he was here." Then looking at me he said," I had thought of meeting you. Now we got the chance."
"We finally meet then," Deepak said, smiling.
I had suddenly become the center of discussion and was slightly overwhelmed at this uncanny recognition. But try as I might, I could not recollect any instance of having met Deepak before. My confusion was probably displayed on my face as he spoke up again.
