'I just got the telegram,' Harshabardhan told his brother. 'They've accepted all our conditions for supplying the timber. Get dressed, we're leaving at once.'
'Where are we going, Dada?' asked Gobardhan.
'Bombay.'
'What for?'
Gobardhan, or Gobra as he was fondly called, looked like the sky had fallen on his head.
'Didn't you hear? The company in Bombay has accepted all our conditions. Let's go and finalise the contract. It's a juicy deal. They've asked me to go at once.'
Harshabardhan was a man of impulses. Gobardhan knew this, but still he stammered, 'How can we go at once, Dada?'
'If not now then when? We don't have much time before the train leaves. The Bombay Mail won't wait for us, will it? We have to leave at once.'
'What about a bath? Dinner?'
'We can bathe on the train. There are fantastic bathrooms. They have showers. As for dinner, there is marvellous food in the dining car....'
...'You don't want to take any luggage at all?'
'Luggage? Just the one piece. You. You are an entire piece of luggage all by yourself.'
Gobardhan was deeply hurt. So was his self-respect. But he couldn't summon a retort. He only grunted.
Translated from Bengali by Arunava Sinha
