My dearest reader, I find myself compelled to recount a tale of the most curious circumstances, involving one Bela and her acquaintance, the estimable Bishu. Though Bela harboured a genuine sentiment of gratitude towards Bishu, she could not help but feel a touch of vexation at his presumptuous habit of arriving unannounced for supper whenever the fancy struck him.

"Ah, what a fine repast of Bengali cuisine, Bela," he would declare with an appreciative expulsion of air once he had consumed his fill. "The fried fish was quite exquisite. However, the cauliflower curry might have benefited from a touch more coriander." She found herself rather put out by his continued dispensation of advice to Sanjay regarding his profession, despite Sanjay's superior income. It vexed her greatly to observe how Sanjay, ordinarily a man of strong character (having but a week prior engaged in a heated dispute with a neighbour who had presumed to park in their designated spot), would regress into a state of almost juvenile deference. "Indeed, Bishu-da, you speak wisely," he would say, "I shall exercise caution in my discourse with my superior."

On this particular evening, once Bishu had regained his composure, he proclaimed, "We have the most delightful news to impart, Bela!"

Bela's gaze fell upon her husband. Through the silent language known only to married couples, she inquired, "Pray tell, why was I not informed of this joyous news? Must I learn of it from one who is not of our immediate circle?" To which Sanjay responded with a furrowed brow, "But my dear, Bishu-da is hardly a stranger to us."

"Perhaps you should have the honour of informing her, Shonu," Bishu offered with a regal air.

A boyish smile illuminated Sanjay's countenance. "We are to purchase a house!"

The words fluttered about in Bela's mind like a flock of untamed birds. This had been her secret aspiration: a domicile to call her own. She had resided in a house but once, during her childhood, a magical and expansive abode in Assam, adorned with enormous hydrangea bushes that seemed to embrace the very walls. Her father was still among the living then; she recalled with fondness their walks through the mango grove, gathering the golden fruit from the earth. Could this be the root of her fervent desire for a house? She had not confided in Sanjay, for it seemed an unreasonable longing, given her modest wages and their numerous financial obligations.

"Bishu-da has discovered a most advantageous arrangement," Sanjay declared, presenting her with a somewhat indistinct photograph. "Behold!"

To Bela's eyes, the shingle-roofed tract home appeared the most beautiful dwelling she had ever beheld. With trembling fingers, she traced the outline of the narrow front window, the slope of the roof, the wooden fence. Her imagination transported her to a kitchen with new flooring and ample shelving, where her spices and dals need not be piled in untidy heaps upon the counter. She envisioned herself and Sanjay seated at the dining table, partaking of tea on a Sunday morn, gazing out upon the backyard where she had planted gardenias.

"We cannot possibly afford such a luxury," she stated flatly, though she found herself unable to relinquish the photograph. "My dear girl, it is not intended for our habitation," Bishu explained with avuncular kindness. "It is an investment. We shall combine our savings for the initial payment. We shall let it to tenants, and the rent shall cover the monthly mortgage. Property values in the Bay Area increase at a rapid pace. In but a few years, we may sell it, or perhaps secure a second mortgage to acquire another property."

Throughout the meal, the gentlemen discussed the various tasks that lay before them: negotiations with the realtor, an acquaintance of Bishu's, to reduce the price; securing the loan - thankfully, Bishu's connection to an agent would prove invaluable, for they would not otherwise qualify; and the matter of advertising for a tenant. The house required new carpeting, and the rooms must be painted to command a higher rent. Surely, they reasoned, they could undertake the painting themselves and thus economise. Their voices were filled with excitement, self-assurance, and a hint of conspiracy, reminiscent of their days as political leaders in India. Absorbed in her own musings, Bela caught only fragments of their conversation.

As she carried dishes to and fro between the dining room and kitchen, her gaze was repeatedly drawn to the photograph, which she had propped upon the counter. Later, she would carefully affix it to the album wherein she was gradually accumulating - for film was a dear commodity - Polaroid images of their American life. She recalled an announcement she had observed at Lucky's but two days prior. They were in need of shelf stockers. She could secure a position on the late shift, following her duties at Tiny Treasures. She would save every farthing. When she had amassed a sufficient sum, she would present it to Sanjay with great triumph and insist that he buy out Bishu's share. At long last, she would have a house to call her very own.

My dearest reader, I find myself compelled to recount a tale of the most curious circumstances, involving one Bela and her acquaintance, the estimable Bishu. Though Bela harboured a genuine sentiment of gratitude towards Bishu, she could not help but feel a touch of vexation at his presumptuous habit of arriving unannounced for supper whenever the fancy struck him.

"Ah, what a fine repast of Bengali cuisine, Bela," he would declare with an appreciative expulsion of air once he had consumed his fill. "The fried fish was quite exquisite. However, the cauliflower curry might have benefited from a touch more coriander." She found herself rather put out by his continued dispensation of advice to Sanjay regarding his profession, despite Sanjay's superior income. It vexed her greatly to observe how Sanjay, ordinarily a man of strong character (having but a week prior engaged in a heated dispute with a neighbour who had presumed to park in their designated spot), would regress into a state of almost juvenile deference. "Indeed, Bishu-da, you speak wisely," he would say, "I shall exercise caution in my discourse with my superior."

On this particular evening, once Bishu had regained his composure, he proclaimed, "We have the most delightful news to impart, Bela!"

Bela's gaze fell upon her husband. Through the silent language known only to married couples, she inquired, "Pray tell, why was I not informed of this joyous news? Must I learn of it from one who is not of our immediate circle?" To which Sanjay responded with a furrowed brow, "But my dear, Bishu-da is hardly a stranger to us."

"Perhaps you should have the honour of informing her, Shonu," Bishu offered with a regal air.

A boyish smile illuminated Sanjay's countenance. "We are to purchase a house!"

The words fluttered about in Bela's mind like a flock of untamed birds. This had been her secret aspiration: a domicile to call her own. She had resided in a house but once, during her childhood, a magical and expansive abode in Assam, adorned with enormous hydrangea bushes that seemed to embrace the very walls. Her father was still among the living then; she recalled with fondness their walks through the mango grove, gathering the golden fruit from the earth. Could this be the root of her fervent desire for a house? She had not confided in Sanjay, for it seemed an unreasonable longing, given her modest wages and their numerous financial obligations.

"Bishu-da has discovered a most advantageous arrangement," Sanjay declared, presenting her with a somewhat indistinct photograph. "Behold!"

To Bela's eyes, the shingle-roofed tract home appeared the most beautiful dwelling she had ever beheld. With trembling fingers, she traced the outline of the narrow front window, the slope of the roof, the wooden fence. Her imagination transported her to a kitchen with new flooring and ample shelving, where her spices and dals need not be piled in untidy heaps upon the counter. She envisioned herself and Sanjay seated at the dining table, partaking of tea on a Sunday morn, gazing out upon the backyard where she had planted gardenias.

"We cannot possibly afford such a luxury," she stated flatly, though she found herself unable to relinquish the photograph. "My dear girl, it is not intended for our habitation," Bishu explained with avuncular kindness. "It is an investment. We shall combine our savings for the initial payment. We shall let it to tenants, and the rent shall cover the monthly mortgage. Property values in the Bay Area increase at a rapid pace. In but a few years, we may sell it, or perhaps secure a second mortgage to acquire another property."

Throughout the meal, the gentlemen discussed the various tasks that lay before them: negotiations with the realtor, an acquaintance of Bishu's, to reduce the price; securing the loan - thankfully, Bishu's connection to an agent would prove invaluable, for they would not otherwise qualify; and the matter of advertising for a tenant. The house required new carpeting, and the rooms must be painted to command a higher rent. Surely, they reasoned, they could undertake the painting themselves and thus economise. Their voices were filled with excitement, self-assurance, and a hint of conspiracy, reminiscent of their days as political leaders in India. Absorbed in her own musings, Bela caught only fragments of their conversation.

As she carried dishes to and fro between the dining room and kitchen, her gaze was repeatedly drawn to the photograph, which she had propped upon the counter. Later, she would carefully affix it to the album wherein she was gradually accumulating - for film was a dear commodity - Polaroid images of their American life. She recalled an announcement she had observed at Lucky's but two days prior. They were in need of shelf stockers. She could secure a position on the late shift, following her duties at Tiny Treasures. She would save every farthing. When she had amassed a sufficient sum, she would present it to Sanjay with great triumph and insist that he buy out Bishu's share. At long last, she would have a house to call her very own.

My dearest reader, I find myself compelled to recount a tale of the most curious circumstances, involving one Bela and her acquaintance, the estimable Bishu. Though Bela harboured a genuine sentiment of gratitude towards Bishu, she could not help but feel a touch of vexation at his presumptuous habit of arriving unannounced for supper whenever the fancy struck him.

"Ah, what a fine repast of Bengali cuisine, Bela," he would declare with an appreciative expulsion of air once he had consumed his fill. "The fried fish was quite exquisite. However, the cauliflower curry might have benefited from a touch more coriander." She found herself rather put out by his continued dispensation of advice to Sanjay regarding his profession, despite Sanjay's superior income. It vexed her greatly to observe how Sanjay, ordinarily a man of strong character (having but a week prior engaged in a heated dispute with a neighbour who had presumed to park in their designated spot), would regress into a state of almost juvenile deference. "Indeed, Bishu-da, you speak wisely," he would say, "I shall exercise caution in my discourse with my superior."

On this particular evening, once Bishu had regained his composure, he proclaimed, "We have the most delightful news to impart, Bela!"

Bela's gaze fell upon her husband. Through the silent language known only to married couples, she inquired, "Pray tell, why was I not informed of this joyous news? Must I learn of it from one who is not of our immediate circle?" To which Sanjay responded with a furrowed brow, "But my dear, Bishu-da is hardly a stranger to us."

"Perhaps you should have the honour of informing her, Shonu," Bishu offered with a regal air.

A boyish smile illuminated Sanjay's countenance. "We are to purchase a house!"

The words fluttered about in Bela's mind like a flock of untamed birds. This had been her secret aspiration: a domicile to call her own. She had resided in a house but once, during her childhood, a magical and expansive abode in Assam, adorned with enormous hydrangea bushes that seemed to embrace the very walls. Her father was still among the living then; she recalled with fondness their walks through the mango grove, gathering the golden fruit from the earth. Could this be the root of her fervent desire for a house? She had not confided in Sanjay, for it seemed an unreasonable longing, given her modest wages and their numerous financial obligations.

"Bishu-da has discovered a most advantageous arrangement," Sanjay declared, presenting her with a somewhat indistinct photograph. "Behold!"

To Bela's eyes, the shingle-roofed tract home appeared the most beautiful dwelling she had ever beheld. With trembling fingers, she traced the outline of the narrow front window, the slope of the roof, the wooden fence. Her imagination transported her to a kitchen with new flooring and ample shelving, where her spices and dals need not be piled in untidy heaps upon the counter. She envisioned herself and Sanjay seated at the dining table, partaking of tea on a Sunday morn, gazing out upon the backyard where she had planted gardenias.

"We cannot possibly afford such a luxury," she stated flatly, though she found herself unable to relinquish the photograph. "My dear girl, it is not intended for our habitation," Bishu explained with avuncular kindness. "It is an investment. We shall combine our savings for the initial payment. We shall let it to tenants, and the rent shall cover the monthly mortgage. Property values in the Bay Area increase at a rapid pace. In but a few years, we may sell it, or perhaps secure a second mortgage to acquire another property."

Throughout the meal, the gentlemen discussed the various tasks that lay before them: negotiations with the realtor, an acquaintance of Bishu's, to reduce the price; securing the loan - thankfully, Bishu's connection to an agent would prove invaluable, for they would not otherwise qualify; and the matter of advertising for a tenant. The house required new carpeting, and the rooms must be painted to command a higher rent. Surely, they reasoned, they could undertake the painting themselves and thus economise. Their voices were filled with excitement, self-assurance, and a hint of conspiracy, reminiscent of their days as political leaders in India. Absorbed in her own musings, Bela caught only fragments of their conversation.

As she carried dishes to and fro between the dining room and kitchen, her gaze was repeatedly drawn to the photograph, which she had propped upon the counter. Later, she would carefully affix it to the album wherein she was gradually accumulating - for film was a dear commodity - Polaroid images of their American life. She recalled an announcement she had observed at Lucky's but two days prior. They were in need of shelf stockers. She could secure a position on the late shift, following her duties at Tiny Treasures. She would save every farthing. When she had amassed a sufficient sum, she would present it to Sanjay with great triumph and insist that he buy out Bishu's share. At long last, she would have a house to call her very own.

My dearest reader, I find myself compelled to recount a tale of the most curious circumstances, involving one Bela and her acquaintance, the estimable Bishu. Though Bela harboured a genuine sentiment of gratitude towards Bishu, she could not help but feel a touch of vexation at his presumptuous habit of arriving unannounced for supper whenever the fancy struck him.

"Ah, what a fine repast of Bengali cuisine, Bela," he would declare with an appreciative expulsion of air once he had consumed his fill. "The fried fish was quite exquisite. However, the cauliflower curry might have benefited from a touch more coriander." She found herself rather put out by his continued dispensation of advice to Sanjay regarding his profession, despite Sanjay's superior income. It vexed her greatly to observe how Sanjay, ordinarily a man of strong character (having but a week prior engaged in a heated dispute with a neighbour who had presumed to park in their designated spot), would regress into a state of almost juvenile deference. "Indeed, Bishu-da, you speak wisely," he would say, "I shall exercise caution in my discourse with my superior."

On this particular evening, once Bishu had regained his composure, he proclaimed, "We have the most delightful news to impart, Bela!"

Bela's gaze fell upon her husband. Through the silent language known only to married couples, she inquired, "Pray tell, why was I not informed of this joyous news? Must I learn of it from one who is not of our immediate circle?" To which Sanjay responded with a furrowed brow, "But my dear, Bishu-da is hardly a stranger to us."

"Perhaps you should have the honour of informing her, Shonu," Bishu offered with a regal air.

A boyish smile illuminated Sanjay's countenance. "We are to purchase a house!"

The words fluttered about in Bela's mind like a flock of untamed birds. This had been her secret aspiration: a domicile to call her own. She had resided in a house but once, during her childhood, a magical and expansive abode in Assam, adorned with enormous hydrangea bushes that seemed to embrace the very walls. Her father was still among the living then; she recalled with fondness their walks through the mango grove, gathering the golden fruit from the earth. Could this be the root of her fervent desire for a house? She had not confided in Sanjay, for it seemed an unreasonable longing, given her modest wages and their numerous financial obligations.

"Bishu-da has discovered a most advantageous arrangement," Sanjay declared, presenting her with a somewhat indistinct photograph. "Behold!"

To Bela's eyes, the shingle-roofed tract home appeared the most beautiful dwelling she had ever beheld. With trembling fingers, she traced the outline of the narrow front window, the slope of the roof, the wooden fence. Her imagination transported her to a kitchen with new flooring and ample shelving, where her spices and dals need not be piled in untidy heaps upon the counter. She envisioned herself and Sanjay seated at the dining table, partaking of tea on a Sunday morn, gazing out upon the backyard where she had planted gardenias.

"We cannot possibly afford such a luxury," she stated flatly, though she found herself unable to relinquish the photograph. "My dear girl, it is not intended for our habitation," Bishu explained with avuncular kindness. "It is an investment. We shall combine our savings for the initial payment. We shall let it to tenants, and the rent shall cover the monthly mortgage. Property values in the Bay Area increase at a rapid pace. In but a few years, we may sell it, or perhaps secure a second mortgage to acquire another property."

Throughout the meal, the gentlemen discussed the various tasks that lay before them: negotiations with the realtor, an acquaintance of Bishu's, to reduce the price; securing the loan - thankfully, Bishu's connection to an agent would prove invaluable, for they would not otherwise qualify; and the matter of advertising for a tenant. The house required new carpeting, and the rooms must be painted to command a higher rent. Surely, they reasoned, they could undertake the painting themselves and thus economise. Their voices were filled with excitement, self-assurance, and a hint of conspiracy, reminiscent of their days as political leaders in India. Absorbed in her own musings, Bela caught only fragments of their conversation.

As she carried dishes to and fro between the dining room and kitchen, her gaze was repeatedly drawn to the photograph, which she had propped upon the counter. Later, she would carefully affix it to the album wherein she was gradually accumulating - for film was a dear commodity - Polaroid images of their American life. She recalled an announcement she had observed at Lucky's but two days prior. They were in need of shelf stockers. She could secure a position on the late shift, following her duties at Tiny Treasures. She would save every farthing. When she had amassed a sufficient sum, she would present it to Sanjay with great triumph and insist that he buy out Bishu's share. At long last, she would have a house to call her very own.

My dearest reader, I find myself compelled to recount a tale of the most curious circumstances, involving one Bela and her acquaintance, the estimable Bishu. Though Bela harboured a genuine sentiment of gratitude towards Bishu, she could not help but feel a touch of vexation at his presumptuous habit of arriving unannounced for supper whenever the fancy struck him.

"Ah, what a fine repast of Bengali cuisine, Bela," he would declare with an appreciative expulsion of air once he had consumed his fill. "The fried fish was quite exquisite. However, the cauliflower curry might have benefited from a touch more coriander." She found herself rather put out by his continued dispensation of advice to Sanjay regarding his profession, despite Sanjay's superior income. It vexed her greatly to observe how Sanjay, ordinarily a man of strong character (having but a week prior engaged in a heated dispute with a neighbour who had presumed to park in their designated spot), would regress into a state of almost juvenile deference. "Indeed, Bishu-da, you speak wisely," he would say, "I shall exercise caution in my discourse with my superior."

On this particular evening, once Bishu had regained his composure, he proclaimed, "We have the most delightful news to impart, Bela!"

Bela's gaze fell upon her husband. Through the silent language known only to married couples, she inquired, "Pray tell, why was I not informed of this joyous news? Must I learn of it from one who is not of our immediate circle?" To which Sanjay responded with a furrowed brow, "But my dear, Bishu-da is hardly a stranger to us."

"Perhaps you should have the honour of informing her, Shonu," Bishu offered with a regal air.

A boyish smile illuminated Sanjay's countenance. "We are to purchase a house!"

The words fluttered about in Bela's mind like a flock of untamed birds. This had been her secret aspiration: a domicile to call her own. She had resided in a house but once, during her childhood, a magical and expansive abode in Assam, adorned with enormous hydrangea bushes that seemed to embrace the very walls. Her father was still among the living then; she recalled with fondness their walks through the mango grove, gathering the golden fruit from the earth. Could this be the root of her fervent desire for a house? She had not confided in Sanjay, for it seemed an unreasonable longing, given her modest wages and their numerous financial obligations.

"Bishu-da has discovered a most advantageous arrangement," Sanjay declared, presenting her with a somewhat indistinct photograph. "Behold!"

To Bela's eyes, the shingle-roofed tract home appeared the most beautiful dwelling she had ever beheld. With trembling fingers, she traced the outline of the narrow front window, the slope of the roof, the wooden fence. Her imagination transported her to a kitchen with new flooring and ample shelving, where her spices and dals need not be piled in untidy heaps upon the counter. She envisioned herself and Sanjay seated at the dining table, partaking of tea on a Sunday morn, gazing out upon the backyard where she had planted gardenias.

"We cannot possibly afford such a luxury," she stated flatly, though she found herself unable to relinquish the photograph. "My dear girl, it is not intended for our habitation," Bishu explained with avuncular kindness. "It is an investment. We shall combine our savings for the initial payment. We shall let it to tenants, and the rent shall cover the monthly mortgage. Property values in the Bay Area increase at a rapid pace. In but a few years, we may sell it, or perhaps secure a second mortgage to acquire another property."

Throughout the meal, the gentlemen discussed the various tasks that lay before them: negotiations with the realtor, an acquaintance of Bishu's, to reduce the price; securing the loan - thankfully, Bishu's connection to an agent would prove invaluable, for they would not otherwise qualify; and the matter of advertising for a tenant. The house required new carpeting, and the rooms must be painted to command a higher rent. Surely, they reasoned, they could undertake the painting themselves and thus economise. Their voices were filled with excitement, self-assurance, and a hint of conspiracy, reminiscent of their days as political leaders in India. Absorbed in her own musings, Bela caught only fragments of their conversation.

As she carried dishes to and fro between the dining room and kitchen, her gaze was repeatedly drawn to the photograph, which she had propped upon the counter. Later, she would carefully affix it to the album wherein she was gradually accumulating - for film was a dear commodity - Polaroid images of their American life. She recalled an announcement she had observed at Lucky's but two days prior. They were in need of shelf stockers. She could secure a position on the late shift, following her duties at Tiny Treasures. She would save every farthing. When she had amassed a sufficient sum, she would present it to Sanjay with great triumph and insist that he buy out Bishu's share. At long last, she would have a house to call her very own.