The picture frame which hung in one corner of the wall is of someone whom Krittika has never met before. The man whose portrait occupies the yellow tainted canvas inside the picture frame, passed away years back, when she was not even born into this world. His little visible eyes were the centre of her attention, as the rest of his torso seemed to fade out, little by little, as she grew older. The man who stared back at her through the picture, had once built the very house where she lived at the present.

She glanced up at the whitewashed ceiling, and then her eyes swept over the thick walls of her house, wandering about the hundreds of stories they wished to whisper into her ears, as they lulled her to sleep.

She drew in a long breath before turning on her heels and headed for the balcony, where she found Baba leaning against the railings.

"You never told me stories about Dadu," she demanded.

He looked down to where she stood and then shoved her aside to reach the clothes which were dripping wet from the recent wash, as he prepared them to be hung over the clothesline.

"What is it that you want to know," he asked, his voice nonchalant, taking little to no notice of his eldest daughter.

"Anything.  I seem to know so little about my grandparents. Look at the other kids, most of them are lucky to still have them at home," she swallowed down a gulp which had formed in her throat as she took a step forward, "You never told me anything except that he passed away when you were a ten year old child."

There was a moment of silence.

"Let's have our lunch. And then, I may tell you a bit about your grandparents if that's  what you wish for," her father spoke as he left the balcony and closed the door behind him, followed closely by his daughter.

"Is that a promise?," her voice was tinged with excitement as her feet barely kept themselves on the floor, and she rushed to hug him by his waist.

Her younger sister, Smritirekha, hopped out of her room and following the lead of her sister, grabbed her from behind, letting out a cry of excitement and now the three of them were roaming the whole house like some disoriented train, whose compartments clinged to each other, and whose engine had no sense of direction.

It was a summer afternoon, and after lunch was over, the three of them settled down in the smallest of the rooms, located in the farthest corner of the house, as their mother busied herself with the daily routined chores. The curtains were drawn, and a refreshing cool breeze circulated itself throughout the room, as their father seated himself over the edge of the bed, accompanied by two of his daughters, Krittika and Smritirekha.

Her father spoke,"Baba used to work as a Station Master of Ghoom Railway Station, Darjeeling. It's a small hilly neighborhood in the Darjeeling Himalayan region of our state. Those were the days when he used to live alone, far away from his family in Sonamukhi, Bankura. Working as a government official, earned him respect and he was provided with a roomie, one-storeyed building, as his primary residence during his stay there. For some reason, even after being married, my step-mother didn't prefer to stay inside those office quarters in Darjeeling. She preferred to stay in the house of her in-laws, with occasional visits during the yearly festivities."

Ghoom Railway Station, of the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, is the highest railway station in India. Situated at an altitude of more than two thousand metres, the place is home of 'Yi Gha Choling Gompa', popularly known as 'The Ghoom Monastery', and the 'Batasia Loop', a bend of the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway.

Krittika turned to look at her sister, whose mouth was left wide open, as she stared at her father with utter disbelief, "Wait, so you had a step-mother!? How come I never knew about this?"

Her shoulders sagged, and she threw a questioning look in the direction of her sister.

"I knew about this. Baba had spoken about his Boro Maa (his stepmother) twice before, although she's still quiet a mystery to me. She passed away shortly after having given birth to her fourth child, which is why our grandfather decided to remarry another women. You've to understand, those were days when the women of the house were expected to take care of the children. It would have been difficult to run a family, if he hadn't shared his burden," Krittika explained.

Smritirekha scrunched up her face, clearly unhappy with the fact that she had  been kept in the dark for so long about her own family history. She drew her knees close to her chest, and then slipped her arms around them.

"Which means, that Baba never got to see his stepmother,...