At a very young age, I had learned a lesson from my mother that cooking wasn't a hobby or fascination; it was a necessity. Thankfully, I had given my fair share of attention to that skill; otherwise, surviving boarding school and foreign education would have become a nightmare. 

Ever since I had lived far away from home, the admiration for home-cooked food had been natural. Hence, the skill came in handy, and my love for anything prepared at home was eternal.

So when the inviting scent of home-cooked Bengali food wrapped around me the moment I stepped into the Banerjee's apartment, I knew I was set for the evening. 

The soft, yellow glow of fairy lights, intertwined with marigold garlands, cast a gentle radiance over the neatly decorated drawing room, and there was no overdoing in terms of birthday decorations.

The interiors weren't over-the-top either, yet there was a certain kind of warmth to the space that made it feel more like home, unlike the rich duplexes and bungalows of my upper-class Delhi neighbourhood. 

Not that such snobs didn't exist in Kolkata or that there weren't homely, simple houses in Delhi, it's just that I hadn't come across much in my circle. 

All I saw was a cheerful Kolkata and a chaotic Delhi. 

Strange! Never thought I would admit this someday. 

Anyway, I shouldn't compare. It seemed a lot like judging, and I had moved past my judgmental phase. So, instead of drawing the comparisons, I mostly just looked around. 

Cosy sofas adorned with kantha-stitched cover cushions, a low wooden tea table set with delicate brass plates, and a small brass idol of Saraswati Ma at one corner, a fresh garland draped over it.

I tried to appreciate the nitty-gritty because if I say this was very new, then that would be entirely wrong. After all, I wasn't totally unfamiliar with such interiors. 

While our villa back in Delhi was the brainchild of high-end interior designers, posh and luxurious, my mother's Bengali influence was quite evident in every corner. Though it wasn't as simple as they did here, it carried the humble essence of the city. That was Maa's only condition when Papa had hired a professional to decorate the villa.

Aunt Kakali was smiling at me, standing in the middle of the drawing room, before I could even announce my arrival. Dressed in a simple cotton saree with a printed border, she carried an effortless grace, her thin frame and soft features strikingly similar to Shumi's. But what stood out the most was the affectionate warmth in her eyes. Without a word, she cupped my face and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"Ki re? Bhalo achish toh?" she asked, her voice laced with motherly fondness.

I smiled. "Ha, kakima. How can I not be well when you're here?"

"Don't say!" she feigned anger, "You toh have stopped visiting me. Always work, work and work, what will I tell Priya didi if you go back, turning into a stick?"

"Oh no!" I chuckled. "That is not exactly possible with you around!" I stated with a teasing wink.

She rolled her eyes, lightly tapping my cheek, "Oh aash! You've become thinner! Are you even eating properly?"

I let out a short laugh before adding, "I assure you, kakima, I am very well-fed. Remember the amount of food you keep sending?"

She hummed, clearly not convinced, before ushering me toward the sofa where everyone had already gathered.

Shumi stood beside the sofa, looking effortlessly beautiful in a simple, sea green saree with a sleeveless blouse. A tiny black bindi adorned her forehead, and she had left her hair loose but neatly combed to fall over her back. As she turned and caught my eye, she gave me a soft, knowing smile, and a blush crept up her cheeks.

Oh, if only I had got her alone!

Fuck no! Concentrate!

I shook my head and focused on the centre table where Shreetama di placed the birthday cake. 

Nothing extravagant, just the simple coffee-caramel one Shreetama di had prepared with 'Happy Birthday Shumi' written in neat red icing along the rim.

"Finally!" Tuhin grinned as he came out of the kitchen and noticed me. "We were waiting for you to start the cake-cutting."

"Oh, please," I scoffed. "Like you would've waited even if I didn't show up."

"True," Kunal smirked, earning a nudge from Mou.

"You know, kakima, Ved helped me with this particular recipe," Shreetama di added, putting the candles on the cake.

"Well, I am not surprised, Shreetama," Aunt Kakali looked at me with a broad smile, "I have tasted that butter chicken he sent few days back. He is indeed a great cook! Ah! What more could a woman want? I think it is high time I ask Priya didi to search for a bride!" from my cooking skills to swiftly shifting the topic, she wasted no time in bringing up that age-old discussion of marriage. 

I don't understand what was with mothers and aunts always pushing their kids towards the marriage market.

Though aunt Kakali was an extremely modern, independent single mother, she was traditional as well. Thanks to her work and the NGOs she supported, she hardly had time to spend with Shumi, but when she was at home, she made sure they bonded over everything homemade.

"Well, he does come with a complete package, you know! I am sure the girls in this colony will be jumping if he hadn't been so rude all the time with them!" Mou teased.

Sometimes I got this feeling that Mou and Misha were cut out from the same stone.

"Package?" aunt Kakali rubbed her chin, confused. While I was about to protest, Tuhin held me back.

"Come on kakima, isn't he a complete package?" Tuhin grinned. "He has money, is highly educated, good-looking looking and can cook! That's a package!"

Shumi rolled her eyes at their antics when Mou's mother, Ritoshree di, came in announcing, "I found the knife."

While she was the mother of a fifteen-year-old, it seemed odd to call a thirty-four-year-old woman aunty. I mean, my brother was in his thirties. Besides Ritoshree di and Saikat da married very early and this Moubani Pal happened accidentally. So why make them feel older by categorising them under the old folks of the colony?

Lean, tall and graceful, Ritoshree di looked like a strict convent teacher while Saikat da, with his average build and playful eyes, seemed the complete opposite of her.  

In the entire colony, there was no one as liberal as Ritoshree di and Saikat da. They were both outspoken, hard-working individuals and respectable people. I must also add the most sorted couple I have ever come across.

"Shumi, ne cake ta kaat. Everyone's here, I guess," Ritoshree di said, handing her the knife.

"No, Sunidhi – "

"You called her?" That was an annoyed chorus from Mou, Tuhin, Kunal and Saikat da while I snickered at their shocked expression.

"Oho! Behave! We live in a society!" Ritoshree di scolded. "And you, Saikat, you are older than them, might as well start acting like your age!"

"I just turned thirty-five!" Saikat da whined.

"And a father of a fifteen-year-old," Ritoshree di eyed.

"They are not coming, Shumi," aunt Kakali quickly intervened before Ritoshree di could start her long lecture. "Sunidhi and her mother had another invitation; they confirmed a while back that they won't be able to make it."

"Thank god!" while the others relaxed, Mou spoke on behalf of them as well.

"Now, cut the cake; the starters are getting cold," aunt Kakali urged.

Shumi turned to her with a grateful smile. "Maa, you really didn't have to do all this. I could have ordered out."

Aunt Kakali waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, leave the worry to me and just enjoy the day—May you grow wiser and stronger. That's all I want." She beamed, her love evident in the way she looked at her daughter.

"Acha Shumi, Nadira's not coming?" Shreetama di enquired. Oh yeah, right! Shumi's newly found best friend.

"No," Shumi whined, clearly sad that her best friend couldn't turn up. "She went on a religious trip with her grandfather. She called in the morning, and we did have a long chat."

I had never thought about how I would have felt if my friends weren't there on my birthdays. Guess never made such a deep connection during school. Not that Naveen gave me any opportunity to experience that in college and made sure I got laid on my every birthday. Shomak, on the other hand, called, sent gifts and joined whenever he was in Delhi or London.

We all gathered around as Shumi cut the cake, everyone clapping and cheering. She fed the first bite to her mother, who playfully smeared a little icing on her nose, making her squeal. They hugged as Aunt Kakali dropped numerous blessings for her.

Considering the light mood, the air felt so natural, filled with laughter and joy as we moved on to attack the snacks aunt Kakali had prepared while Shumi opened the gifts.

"What the - " I had to suppress my sudden burst, looking at the dishes. 

Well, give a Bengali to decide the menu and it will certainly be a wide spread. They just didn't know how to do things simply when it came to food. 

Hence, the starters were an absolute delight; from beguni and posto bora to ghugni with mutton keema and fish chop accompanied with gondhoraj lebu's ghol. I grabbed a plate and settled onto the sofa. While I was trying to keep my cool and soak in the warmth of the evening, the constant shutter of Mou's camera started to irritate me.

No matter how hard I tried, my mind kept drifting back to those damn photographs.

I hesitated, while the curiosity poked me every minute. I didn't want them to become conscious, especially when the conversation was going so well over Bengali films and songs. But unable to hold on further and keeping my tone light, I finally spoke, "You know, I saw some old photographs earlier today. Shumi's 9th birthday, I think."

Shumi, who had just taken a bite of the posto bora, paused mid-chew, her eyes flickering to mine for a split second before quickly looking away.

"I found Shumi sharing a nice frame between you and my brother, Shreetama di," I added, glancing toward Shreetama di but also watching the others carefully.

For a moment, the room felt quieter than before as the laughter faded. It was subtle, but I caught it—the stiffening of shoulders, the unspoken glance exchanged between Shumi and her mother and Saikat da letting out a quiet cough while both Ritoshree di and Shreetama di turning a bit pale. But before I could dwell on it further, Tuhin suddenly clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"Oh, speaking of Rohit da!" He laughed. I know what he was doing. Like expertly shifting the focus. As if I wouldn't notice. "Ved, do you know how much more organised he was than you? My mother said he was the kind of son-in-law every mother in the neighbourhood wanted for her daughters! Plus, he was also the whole package like you, minus your rudeness."

"Our mother even kept poking me with his example," Kunal added, leaving no room for me to go back to the previous topic I had raised, " – that if I studied as hard as he did, I might as well end up becoming an engineer. Well, I did, he was our idol, you know."

Saikat da joined in, nodding enthusiastically, further moving away from what I had dropped. "True! He was responsible, smart, and had everything planned out. Not at all like this one." He gestured toward me with a teasing grin. Although Ritoshree di had stopped speaking, she sat straight and stiff.

I frowned slightly, sensing the clear redirection, but before I could press again, aunt Kakali placed another fish chop on my plate with a smile. "Eat, eat! You haven't even tasted the chop."

I couldn't even protest!

Then, with ease and, too neatly I must add, the conversation was deliberately shifted. It flowed back to the food, to the warmth of the evening. But I was adamant, yet when I tried to raise the topic again, Mou pointed out the gifts Shumi had received.

"Open the gifts, I am getting impatient here!" she clapped, pushing the boxes into Shumi's lap. 

Vinyl records from Shreetama di, poetry books from Ritoshree di and Saikat da, a handcrafted bookmark that Mou had done completely by herself, a Polaroid camera from Tuhin and a best sister trophy by Kunal. Aunt Kakali had bought a beautiful gold set for her, which was very simple and sleek, that complemented her as well.

They all had expectantly looked at me since I had only got some sweets and flowers (white tulips; didn't take the risk of gifting roses). I shrugged and said didn't get the time to buy one. I had glanced at Shumi as she had blushed hard, remembering I was the first to give her a gift today.

But even as I laughed along, something felt off. The way they had all dodged the topic so smoothly, so effortlessly, it wasn't normal.

I didn't press again. Looking at how Shumi was beaming, I decided not to push. Not tonight. 

I know I cannot keep ignoring these questions for long. I had to find out and soon.

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