Fiction: A mysterious man kindles Chintamoni’s dormant desires, bringing her love and money

The space under the huge bed propped up even higher by bricks was Chintamoni’s storage room. Not because the kitchen didn’t have enough space. The kitchen was in fact quite large, but mice and mole-rats as big as cats were always scurrying in and out of the drain hole. Besides, the water vat in the kitchen was where she stored wood, coal, and dry cow dung. A jagged stone used for breaking coal lay on the floor. There was also a hammer that had a piece of wood jammed above its wobbly handle to hold it steady. Apart from this, the kitchen housed coal in bamboo baskets and a pile of old, broken items. Kerosene tins and other belongings were usually also strewn over the coal heap.

Chintamoni found it impossible to discard even the oldest and dirtiest of things.

One couldn’t really call Chintamoni filthy, untidy, or lazy. But people were quite indifferent to sanitation and hygiene in the times I’m writing about.

In those days, the people of Kolkata would wash their clothes in the same place where they urinated. In the older parts of the city, you could end up stepping on shit if you were even slightly absent minded. Most neighbourhoods had…

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