She was only 18, when the news of her death by accident reached Kolkata. Death by landslide in Shimla. The news made headlines in Anandabazar Patrika.

They were two sisters. She was lean and quiet. Her sister was her opposite – talkative and show-off. The sister always wore a smile and moved her Kohl-lined eyes round and batted many times in front of her boy batch mates. They had a small brother who was like any other kid.

The boys thought she liked him or him or him but she liked her masterji more. She went out with masterji, and the mothers of her batchmates heaved a sigh of relief.

The father was a religious Brahmin. He did his prayers regularly. His arms pained working at office so his hours were reduced. He used to return home at lunch time and gave tuition. He happily maintained his second income.

One day they went for a trip to the hills. They went by bus to Shimla. They said dugga dugga and boarded their bus. The bus started and was going downhill churning the stomachs of the new visitors to the hills.

It had been raining for a few days. It was gloomy. The passengers were sleepy. The road cracked. One by one the buses fell. In sleep some passengers passed away.

The mother earth took the quiet sister in her lap, the brother was safe in his mother’s lap and the lively sister lived to dance to the tune of life. They returned home without their sister.

The father worked full hours at office to keep away the loss of his daughter. The lively one married masterji and lived happily. The brother grew up to be an obedient man who made his career in LIC.