At 14:00 hours.

The pleasent tea helped break the ice between them. 

Savouring the tea Manoujit said "I remember the days when things were simple".

A nostalgia of memories hit them both.

Their minds started to recollect the memories of them together. From the corridoors of City College to sailing on boat at the Prinsep Ghat where they had their first kiss. All memories flashed at once.

Lost in memories she said "Yes, I remember too. If only the time could run backwards Manu".

The sun was shining through the windows and he could see her pellucidly.

He saw the flashing bindi and the poised sindur on her forehead.

She looked elegant, just like the way he always imagined her to look.

"You still look the same like you looked before" he said.

She laughed and said "The weight has changed though."

"But you have changed a lot. And what about the scars? How and where have you been all these years?" she asked raringly.

"I was in Burma. I was with the Royal army fighting the Chinese." said he.

Manoujit had served as an infantry battalion to the British army in the Burma war between 1942 and 1944.

"The british are no more here. Bapu and Netaji kicked them out. So how did you came back here", she asked curiously.

He started to recollect the pictures horrific war he had fought. He answered "In 1944 my unit was captured by the enemy. We were held captives for weeks. Some days we weren't served food and water also. We were tortured by them and thats when they scar-faced me with knives. We were captives untill the Azad Hind Fauj rescued us. They not only rescued us but also gave us a purpose to fight with them and fight against the Royal army. This time I wasn't just fighting for survival, I was fighting for something more. I was fighting for Freedom."

Sumita listened to him with her eyes sparkled with tears of gratitude.

"So when Netaji died you came back here?" She asked.

"After Netaji's death we continued to fight, I was then sent on a mission by the Fauj to Chitagong, which is now part of the East Pakistan. And after that I came here after the partition". He answered.

Sumita who got married to a modern businessman of independent India, was proud of the sacrifice she had done for her relationship with Manoujit.

Yet she was in tears thinking about the fate of her relationship and the cost that they had paid for the independence.

Sobbing she asked him "what do you think Manu. Was it all worth it?".

Manoujit's heart was now filled with pride of his sacrifices alongwith unsullied love for Sumita. 

He answered, "when I was held captive in Burma, all I thought was if I could ever make it back to Calcutta, if I could ever see your face again Sumita. And now that I'am seeing you again, I think all of it was worth it".

Sumita was left speechless, she could neither cry on his shoulder nor hug him like before. She kept looking at him to picture him perfectly one last time, because she knew deep in her heart that she won't be looking this face again sooner or even in this lifetime.

He bid her bye one last time and left from her house thanking for the refreshing tea.

On the free streets of Alipore, Lieutenant Manoujit Chaterjee of Indian army pulled out his filtered cigarette and lighted it with a metal plated lighter. Took a drag of the cigarette and breezed out the smoke, like in a gesture of thanking the almighty for the Freedom to live this life. 

It was a sunny afternoon of April 1948 and he turned his wrist to see the time. The clock struck 13. He pulled out the note from the pocket to read the address.

"15 B, Alipore Road, Calcutta" it read.

Manoujit found it difficult to locate the address. It wasn't easy for him to ramble through the streets of Calcutta after so long time. Yet he was relishing the breeze of the city again in the independent India.

Battling through the narrow streets, horse carts and honking of the trams and cars, he reached his destination.

"15B - Bagchi residence", read the name plate at the gate. Manoujit took a gaze at the house, it was one of the new row houses built in Alipore. With a slanting roof at the top it seemed like the dream house that he always imagined.

He came forward and moved towards the gate to ring the door bell. He ringed it twice.

"Who is it at this time?" asked a soft voice from the other side. It was the same voice that once reverberated like a flute in Manoujit's ears. After many summers he had heard that voice.

"Its me.. Manoujit.. Manu here", he answered. An awkward silence prevailed after that.

There was no further questions asked or answered. The door opened, Manoujit skipped a heartbeat for that moment. It was Sumita, his long lost friend. The girl who was once everything for him. She looked elegant like she had always looked, he couldn't take off his eyes from her. After 6 long years he was seeing her. His hands wanted to accoll her in arms yet he restrained.

Sumita was amazed and aghast both at the same time. She couldn't believe she was seeing him once again. She called him in to have a seat in comfort.

He walked in for his eyes to see the splendid house yet his attention was robbed off from him at the very sight of her opening the door.

Both looked at each other, stared each other for long to see how time had shaped them now. For him she looked the same she was then. With the perfect dusky skin tone and the embroided red and white saree with keys tied at the end of her pallu, she looked the perfect woman he had imagined ever.

She smilled at him and looked at the scars on his face, she wondered what could have happened to her Manu all these time.

With a nervy voice she said "you came back". He didn't speak much, he answered in a smile and said "Yes".

Many questions came to their mind but all stayed caged inside. She asked him to have a seat, he made himself comfortable sitting on a cushioned chair with spine held straight.

She went inside to make tea for him. He stayed seated looking around the house.

She came back with a tray of costly porcelain teapot and cups. Tea was served to Manoujit with two spoons of sugar. He took a sip and was reminded of the tea she used to make at her former house in Barrackpur.

"Nice! Mrs. Bagchi, it still tastes the same" he said. Sumita responded him with a blushing smile.

Continued at: http://bit.ly/2wKB5bh