Chapter 73

67. Love and Longing (II)

[PAST]

The spectacular and enormously spread Riverview school building, but for a few disturbances like bird chirrupings and the long loud peal of bell piercing through the still air, usually stood quietly at the end of a blind street. It was when the clock struck half-past one and the classes were set free that the street swarmed with obstreperous students, jostled to life.   

One such sweltering late April afternoon when the school was dismissed, a pensive Kirti ambled to her father who leaned against his Splendor, listening in on the colorful conversation of a bunch of chatty girls.

‘It took you a long time,’ he remarked.

‘Had cleaning duties, Papa,’ she lied. She had been talking to Manisha. About Nishit. Asking for his ward details. 

‘Would you eat Kala Khatta?’ There was a cart shop selling ice candy syrup next to them, surrounded by children who either slurped from their plastic glasses or waited as the owner shaved the ice on a wooden board.

‘No,’ she replied.

‘Sukha Bhel?’ He eyed the puffed rice chaat seller who had a steel tin roped precariously on his cycle seat. A variety of condiments in various half-cut water bottles held together by the same rope circumscribed about the tin while the seller artistically whisked the mixture in a navy plastic mug. 

The flavorful smell of the union of onion, chillies, and the cubes of cucumber made his mouth water. He watched the old man pick up a half-cut lemon piece between his two bony fingers and squeeze it over the mixture. His stomach rumbled. 

‘Have some?’ He coaxed her. If she agreed, he would have a handful from the cone before passing it to her.

‘No, I don’t feel like,’ she answered, putting a brutal end to his salivating, ‘Biplab must be waiting. Let’s go home.’

‘Yes, he must be. How was your day?’ He turned away to kick-start the bike.

‘It was okay. We started with Height and Distance in Math.’ She put her hand on his shoulder to heft herself.

‘Seated?’ Her father asked, flicking the visor close.

‘Hmm,’ she replied, her knees bending to accommodate her black shoes that sparkled with Cherry Blossom luster in the morning but by the end of the day was caked with dust, on the footrest. She had uncomfortably long legs. 

‘We had Height and Distance in the eighth standard. They teach you in tenth?’

‘Hmm,’ she was distracted.

Nishit and Vivek had been riding back home after a volleyball match; it had been raining heavily and their scooty had skidded and rammed into a tree. Kirti had thought it was a minor one and he would return to school soon. But when he still didn’t return even after a week, she started getting agitated. Almost everyone had visited him in the hospital. They said he wasn’t serious and recovering, however, she wished to see him for herself. To wish was easy, to convince her father to fulfill that wish was tough.

Sitting behind her father, she thought of explanations she could use to convince him. As they left the clamor of the school behind and turned to the road planked with a line of trees on both sides, the enfeebled rays of sun dappling through the thick canopy of Gulmohar shone on them. Last monsoon one of these trees had fallen over a man. It had spurred a huge debate on growing native trees only for the exotic ones even if introduced years ago could not adapt itself to the soil of Mumbai and often succumbed under duress.

‘Papa,’ she started. ‘Do you know? Two classmates of mine met with an accident while going home.’

‘Accident? How?’ 

She told him.

'Boys these days have become such rash drivers! I see it happening every day! If by God's grace they don't get killed they are sure to kill the others on the road!'

She remained quiet after that. He stopped later in a Bhaji mart near their home -  before a woman who sat by the road the greens, browns, purple, and orange all spread before her on a mat. Her nuptial chain hanging proudly past her chest and a large round red bindi stuck between her brows, she arranged her sari over her lap as she disinterestedly rattled out the prices to the passing-by buyers.

Kirti climbed down the vehicle inspecting the long beans pretending to know her vegetables while her father instructed her from his driver seat.

'Not this one, no. Don't pick the large potatoes. They tend to rot faster. That brinjal would be full of seeds.' To the seller, he shot questions like,

'How are you selling Patal? Kanda? Palak? Cholai?'

Beside the seller sat a boy with a bamboo basket full of Jamrul - water apple. They bought half a kilogram of it which she had to stuff in her bag because the bike handles were full of vegetable bags.

At home, she rinsed her feet, splashed her face clean. Changing into a pair of pajamas and a shirt that read Owl City Fireflies - she had no idea it was a song, she shouted for her brother who was playing outside before putting the lentils on the stove. Her grandmother would already prepare lunch before leaving for her work. All Kirti had to do was warm the food. Since her father had started making frequent trips to the loo in the night and he had been spotting boils on his leg, Karuna had advised him to refrain from rice and desserts. In the morning, she churned out bitter-gourd juice for him. In the afternoon, Kirti had to make him chapatis. 

When Dadi was at home, she took care of all on her own. There were days when she did not go to work at all and then there were days when Karuna returned as late as seven in the evening. That was Sarkari naukri for you. 

Her father was a walking disaster in the kitchen. A strike away from burning the house down. All he knew was to make tea and soggy Maggi.

Kneading dough as well as ideas to convince her father to take her to the hospital, Kirti served him shapeless chapatis fresh off the griddle while her brother filled the bottles. On her way back to the kitchen, she popped a half-cut water apple into her mouth. 

Keshav was squeezing a lemon in the daal bowls of his children, when his daughter asked, 'Papa, the boys who met with an accident. One of them is my friend. Nishit.'

'Him? How is he now? I did not expect him to be so irresponsible. What a scare to his parents! Is he doing well?'

'He is supposedly recovering.'

'And it wasn't him driving,' she clarified.

'Biplab, don't use both your hands while eating. Kirti, the saag is good. Try some, beta.' 

'I am eating,' then a pause later, she asked, 'Can I go to visit him, Papa?'

'Hmm? Hmm,' he answered, sauntering to the charpoy for a nap before he left for the next shift.

'When?' Kirti asked. 'When can we go, Papa? Everyone in the class has already visited him. The teacher said we should since it will make him feel better and loved.'

Biplab who had finished his food still sat seated next to her watching the shenanigans of Jerry on mute. She, a slow eater, pecked at her food. 

'Where is he admitted?'

Kirti informed all the details with a gusto. 

'When we will go, Papa?' She almost harangued him. 

'Be ready then. We will pay him a visit and then I will drop you home before going to pick passengers.' His stomach was full and the whirring of the overhead fan acted like a lullaby.

'Aaj? Abhi?' She squealed.

Keshav was already snoring softly.

XxxX

‘How did this happen?’ Kirti’s father asked.

‘Boys,’ Mrinalini sighed. ‘My Chiku has always been careful. It was the other boy who was driving. What is his name? I forget too easily.’ 

‘Vivek,’ Kirti replied. Her hands neatly folded in her lap, she sat on the edge of the sofa shivering in the air-conditioned private room. She was amazed to find Nishit’s grandmother watching television on mute when they had stepped inside. TV! In hospital! A large flatron television mounted up on the wall. 

‘Yes, Vivek. He fractured his hand while trying to check the fall,’ Mrinalini recounted. 

The subdued smell of this room was calming very unlike the strong pungent odor, she had come to associate with hospitals. Room freshener?

The small foldable table stationed a plate of half-eaten oranges. The stringy bits of the fruit posed the only color contrast on the orange plate bearing the fruits. On the other side lay a bag of apples and a small square box from the famous Halwai that they had got for Nishit.

‘We cannot go empty-handed,’ her father had said. ‘One bite of the sweet and he will be up and running,’ he had winked. It was Angoori gulab jamun - small, sweetened grape-like balls dipped in white creamy rabri.

‘Thank God, at least he had the sense to wear a helmet! My poor boy was not so lucky. He hit his head and scraped his cheek. And there was a broken iron pipe at the site that tore through the skin of his calf.’

Kirti shuddered at the image that the recount rendered. Her eyes sought his sleeping form, an action that did not go unnoticed by Mrinalini.

‘He was complaining of pain all day long, Kirti.’ Astonished that senior Mrs. Aggarwal had for the first time addressed her by her proper name, her gaze swiveled to meet hers.

‘Couldn’t sleep. They have injected him with a sedative.’

‘When will he be discharged, Dadima?’ 

‘Oh, I don’t know, child. It will take time.’

Her father and Mrinalini had a small chat thereafter. 

‘My father and husband both served in the Indian Army. My husband passed away a few years ago. You, Mr.Singh, what do you do?’

‘I am an auto-rickshaw driver, Ma’am.’ He felt the need to add that he had been a supervisor some eons ago but exercised restraint.

Outsiders could not read the slight drop in his pitch at the driver part. It wasn’t the same for his daughter. Kirti threaded her fingers together waiting for the judgment to come.

‘Oh. I was reading about an altercation between the taxi and the autorickshaw’s union. Has it been solved, Singh Ji?’

‘I don’t think it will ever be solved, Madam. It is the fight for supremacy. But, I guess we are to reach a compromise soon. We will not venture into their areas and they will not in ours.’

‘The strikes must affect your business.’

‘It does,’ Keshav replied, visibly at ease now. 

‘Than why the strikes? Mr.Singh, we depend on you all to convey us to our destinations. And when that support system falls or breaks, you must understand pandemonium is broken loose in the city.’

‘We also do not want to disoblige our customers. But when one is a part of a system, one has to bow before rules, however unjust they may seem. Sometimes strikes become the only method to draw the government's attention. Thankfully, we have other transport systems that are much better and don’t let our absence be much defined.’

‘Absence not much defined? You are too humble for your own good, Mr.Singh. You must know you’re doing a remarkable job, one that is imperative for our survival. I, for one, always prefer an auto over a local or taxi to commute. Perhaps, it has something to do with the nostalgia of bunking classes, catching auto, and sneaking away to watch cinema with friends.’

Keshav smiled. Looking at the crisply starched sari wound around the wiry but regal figure of the woman and the sparse but elegant jewelry on her, it was difficult for him to believe she had ever made use of public transport.

A few minutes later, he said, ‘We must leave, Ma’am. It’s going to be three in the evening, the rush hour of passengers. Kirti?’ 

Kirti stood up, her forlorn eyes finding her partner. His face turned away from them, he still slept on without a care. Stupid boy! What a time to sleep!

Lying there, bandaged and his arm bearing several red-blue syringe marks, he looked nothing like her high and mighty partner. She wanted to touch him just for a second to convince herself that it was indeed him, well and alive. 

Touch? Ashamed of her thoughts, she scooted towards the traditional confines of her father. 

‘Okay, Dadima, take care. We shall leave now.’

‘Oh child. It was most unfortunate that he was sleeping. He would have been so happy to have you here.’

Some of her low spirits lifted hearing the personal comment. Happy to have me here.

‘He is always happy to have his friends over. Yesterday Sana, Tejas, and all stayed till late and talked.’

‘Bye Dadima,’ she turned away, her shoulders slumped as she dragged her feet outside the room.

‘Come again,’ Mrinalini called after her.

As if! She did not have personal drivers and forward-thinking parents who let her spend time outside with friends till late hours.

'The other boy is also admitted here?'

'I don't know Papa. He isn't in my class. I haven't ever talked to him.'

When her father dropped her at Shruti’s house, she bit a grumpy Bye, and fooled around in the garden of the house, stomping ruthlessly on grasses sometimes, and staring out in the space unseeing things, her head resting against the railings of the gate.

‘Kirtiii,’ Sandy yelled from the window. ‘What are you doing there? Come inside.’

‘Coming aunty,’ she dawdled, her eyes still focused outside. She spotted Ravi, Mayank’s older brother loitering with his friends.

‘Kirti darling, inside now!’

‘What is it darling? Why do you look so sullen?’ Sandy asked while shaking the pillow cover in the air - the fresh lemony smell of detergent diffusing in the room - before flipping it open to push the cushion into it. 

‘Nothing,’ Kirti replied, walking over to her brother who lay asleep on a small bed. She bent to draw down his shirt and cover the peeking midriff, and fix the slipping pillow under his head.

‘Something is up. I can tell from your face.’ Sandy was always at home in the afternoons FOR the newbie trainees took care of the parlour for her.

‘Nothing aunty.’

‘Test papers were shown?’ She had moved to the third pillow cover now.

‘No. Tests start only from next week, aunty.’

‘Then what could it be? Is it something that murukkus can’t cure?’ 

‘Murukkus?! Aunty, did you make murukkus again?’ Kirti scurried to her.

‘Mmm-hmm. I might have. A whole jar for someone. Then, there are Kairis too.’

‘Aunty, you’re super awesome,’ Kirti thumbs-upped. 

‘Go on. I don’t mind some more praise.’ Sandy preened.

‘I don’t think so. What if it gets to your head?’

‘Seems I’ll have to give both Achappam and Murukku to your brother only.’

‘Arre no no aunty. You’re supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.’

‘A few more,’ Sandy grinned greedily, her perfect set of pearls envy of many. She was now seated on a chair, arranging her naturally permed curls into a bun.

‘But I have bestowed you with the mother of compliments! Let me taste some first, then maybe,’ Kirti giggled.

‘Ah, Smart woman! Go take it from the kitchen. The mangoes are on the slab.’

Later when her grandmother was back and the kids were in their room; Kirti was studying and also superintending her brother’s homework progress, both their snack jars perched on shelves of different corners of the room, an idea struck Kirti.

The next day back from school, she approached Mayank.

Sitting on the porch steps next to him, she asked, ‘Mayank, my friend is in hospital and I want to visit him. Will you come with me?’ Her palms planted on the cold cement, she stretched her legs eyeing the disappearing pink of the long ears of rabbit peeping from between her toes - a design print on her sky blue slippers. She would have asked Shruti but she was busy with Polytechnic entrance preparation.

‘Khud mil aa,’ He replied. ‘Why do you need me?’ He asked fashioning a plane out of a rough sheet.

‘You know Dadi won’t let me go. It’s also really far from here. I don’t want to go alone.’

‘Fine, I will take you but not this week.’

‘Why not?!’ She exclaimed.

‘Because I am busy.’ He mock acted throwing the plane in the air but on a closer look, she found he held it tightly between his fingers.

‘But what if he gets discharged this week. Then what? Everybody has met him. I am the only one who hasn’t.’

‘Can’t help it. I have Boards, Kirti. To get admission in R.K. School Of Art, you need at least sixty percent marks.Ek Sir hai bahut mushkil se manein hai. Tuition lagane hai Math ke or I will flunk.’ He explained to her.

‘Oh. It’s okay then,’ she sighed, looking at the violet-pink of the evening sky. How melancholy beautiful is the sky as it bids its Sun goodbye.’Fine I will leave you to your studies then. Byee,’ she picked herself up, dusting off the back of her jeans.

When she was unbolting the gate, a plane brushed her head, nestling in her hair, all unknown to her.

‘Oye,’ he called.

‘What?’ She turned, her face betraying her disappointment.

‘I will take you next Monday. Promise.’

‘Take her where?’ A tall figure loomed over her, pushing the gate inside and Kirti stepped back to let him in. 

‘Woh Ravi Bhaiyya I wanted to meet a friend so asked him to come along with me.’

‘Why do you need him? And what is this?’ He pulled the plane from her hair, throwing it at his brother who intercepted its landing.

Kirti cast an accusing glare at Mayank; he grinned back. ‘The hospital is far from here, Bhaiyya and he needs to be my driver.’

‘How far is it? I can take you. For two hundred rupees,’ Ravi offered.

‘How altruistic of you!’ Mayank barbed.

‘Altruistic? Beta this is a capitalist world. So Kirti?’ 

‘I am a poor struggling student, Bhaiyya. You’ll have to find another scapegoat to finance your next start-up,’ Kirti side-stepped him, walking back to her home, Mayank’s laughter trailing her. 

XxxX

'You were the only one in our group who hadn't yet paid me a visit,' He accused. Propped against a pillow, he was sitting up today, his legs covered with a pale blue duvet.

'But I did come! Dadimaa did not tell you?' After welcoming her and her brother, peeling them oranges which Kirti was yet to touch - she couldn’t eat in a hospital, just one of her things - Mrinalini had excused herself to take a walk in the fresh air. Her brother had no such compunction and was gobbling down the juicy segments of the fruit as he listened to the conversation. 

She had finally decided to come on her own but not wanting to leave her brother behind, had brought him along.

‘That doesn’t count,’ Nishit said about her earlier visit. 

‘I’d guessed that much. That is why I am here again.’

‘I thought you won’t. Come again that is,’ he confessed, his gaze stuck on a round adhesive strip on the crook of his arm.

‘But I am here,’ The ends of her mouth lifting up. ‘How are you?’

‘What do you think?’ He raised his eyebrows. The bruises on his left cheek and lower jaw had turned to brutal, jagged lines. 

‘The other day Dadima was saying you weren’t able to sleep due to pain. Does it hurt a lot?’

‘Not much,’ he clicked his tongue. ‘Dadimaa is always exaggerating things.’

‘Your leg,’ she looked at the long blue stripes on the pink of his shirt. ‘Has it healed?’

‘Not completely.’

‘Where did you hurt your leg? Is it broken? A car ran over it?’ A curious Biplab walked to Nishit’s bed, something that Kirti didn't dare.

‘Not run over, but I got thrown away with the impact and unluckily there was a pipe that gnashed through my skin.’

‘Where? Show?’ Biplab asked, his hands curling around the iron railing of the bed. He was just a few feet taller than the bed.

‘Biplab,’ Kirti reproached.

Ignoring the reproof, the guys proceeded with their exchange. ‘Here,’ he removed the blanket and pulled over his pajamas to show his bandaged leg. ‘This part had to be stitched.’ 

Unable to contain herself, Kirti found herself walking to them.

‘Eight stitches,’ he looked at her.

‘Eight,’ Kirti gasped. ‘It must have hurt so much.’

‘Pata bhi nahi chala.  All hail Anesthesia.’ His chapped lips curled into a smile making light of the situation. 

Biplab’s finger gently brushed the gauze wound around Nishit’s leg. Kirti thwacked his arm away.

‘Please don’t ride with guys like Vivek again,’ she pleaded but came out as an order.

‘It was not his fault yaar. Besides a broken arm, people have heaped him with loads of guilt. My lot of people, especially. It could have happened even if I was riding.’

‘Well, then don’t ride until you learn to ride properly!’

When he stared at her amusedly, she sputtered,’ What? You have a driver! It could have been worse than this!’ Then when he continued to stare, she stepped back, walking backward to the foam sofa, sitting down, picking up a piece of orange. Putting it down, she looked at the round dial of her First Track watch. ‘I should leave.’

‘Leave? But you’ve just arrived!’ 

‘Hahn, but there’s no one at home. Dadi can come home anytime. Rohini Miss is going to take a revision test tomorrow. I haven’t studied anything. Have to submit the SUPW homework. Veena Ma’am said she’s going to send the average grade of all the SUPW projects to the Boards.'

‘Oh. I understand. You are quite busy. Bye then.’

‘Huh?’ She looked at him wide-eyed, hurt swimming in her dark orbs.

‘I said bye. You are leaving, no? Go.’

‘Biplab,’ she stood up. Biplab who had wandered to the shelf trolley where a comic was kept. He stalled their departure by staring at the rich illustrations on the glossy pages, and whisper-read the dialogues.

‘Biplab,’ she dashed to him, pulling the book out of his hand and placing it away.

‘Bye Bhaiyya,’ he said with a doleful voice. He didn’t want to leave. At home, she would not let him go out to play or watch TV. His sister would make him sit with her and work on his weak Arithmetic.

‘Seems you like me more,’ Nishit said, waving at him. 

‘Here,’ a hand shot out to him. Palm full of Coffee-bite toffees. He gaped at her. 

‘I got this for you,’ she said, her eyes narrowed and lips in a grumpy pout. 'And also,' she pulled out a thin square book from her jeans pocket.

‘What is this?’ He took it from her. The title of the book made him chuckle out loud. The Ultimate Santa Banta Chutkule.

‘It isn’t new,’ she clarified, her cheeks growing warm. Was it a stupid gift? She should’ve gone for a Cadbury or something. The miser she was, she had gone ahead and bought a few cheap toffees.

‘I always read it when I am sick and it makes me laugh and I feel better. I thought it would…,’ she justified.

‘Yes, Di is always reading Santa Banta jokes. She must know them by heart now but she still laughs and expects us to laugh at them too. She also has Diya Chaap Most Papular Haasya Shayri Kitab as well.’

‘Chup Raho,’ she pinched her brother's arm.

‘Does she? Why didn’t you bring that too? Didn’t want to part?’ He asked, his large innocent eyes trained on her.

‘No, Di intended to but it was a bit large and wouldn’t fit into her pocket and she didn’t want to carry a bag.’

‘Ah, too bad. Where does she procure these scintillating books from?’

‘Bookfair!’ Biplab answered in a matter-of-factly tone. ‘They have many books like these.’

‘Bookfair. I can visualize it happening. The other shiny books fading in the background while she lunges for her dear joke books.’

Biplab giggled.

‘If you don’t like it,’ she reached out to pull her precious pocketbook from his hand, ‘Then just say it. There’s no need to make fun of me.’

‘Arre aise kaise?’ He put his hand high in the air. ‘It’s mine now. I love it. Nothing like silly jokes to lift your mood. Thank you.’

She looked at him suspiciously and realizing that his words were genuine, she let her guard down.

‘But I liked the last gift better,’ he added. 

‘Last gift?’

‘The rabri sweet you got me,’ he reminded.

‘Ohhh. That one. It works as an elixir for our family, you know? Whenever any of us are down or feeling weak, Papa gets us one and we are back to fine. Haina, Biplab?’

Biplab nodded but his mind was busy for it seemed their father had treated Kirti and Nishit with Angoori Gulab jamun and he had been left out. He fumed at his sister. What a traitor! She did not even let out a word about it. Papa is always being partial. Secretly treating her to sweets.

‘Did you like it?’ Kirti asked Nishit.

‘Very. Get me more.’ No can I or please, Kirti thought.

She wagged her index in a no. ‘It has very potent ingredients and you can have only one and then wait for it to work its magic on you. So you cannot have anymore.’ 

‘But that rule must apply on children and wispy vines like you. Look at me. It would take a heavier dose of the magic potion to work on me.’ He titled his marked cheek to her. ‘I am the chosen one.’

‘No, no,’ she shrugged her head, solemnly. ‘Unlike the Potterworld. The rules here are not broken for any chosen one. It is the same and universal for one and all. So you’d have to be content with just that one box.’

‘I think I will bribe uncle.’

‘You can try. By the way, which is your favorite sweet, Nishit?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t found a favorite yet, I guess. Has it scarred?’ He suddenly changed the topic.

‘What? Your cheek? It is bruised but I don’t think it will scar. Don’t worry.’ Her voice was laced in the honey of warm consideration.

‘I am not worried. I am sure my leg looks a hell lot uglier,’ he said nonchalantly.

‘I know. You will have to ditch the plan of wearing a skirt for some time. What a waste!’

‘Hey, take my vanity seriously, will you?’ 

Biplab had once again wandered to the comic book.

‘There will be no scars. Tell your grandmother to apply coconut oil mixed with camphor. And even if it leaves scars, so what? Doesn’t change anything about you. Haven’t you read the reindeer story?’

‘What story? Pull that stool and sit down,’ he ordered.

She complied and left an hour later.

Her brother refused to hold her hands on their way back, flouncing ahead of her. ‘What happened, Babu?’

‘You ate the sweets alone!’ He accused.

‘I did not. We just bought it for him.’

‘Liar!’

‘I don’t lie.’

‘You do. Papa is always buying you sweets and snacks while he picks you from school.’

The war came to an end with a treat-y. Kirti Singh promises her brother a  treat of Falooda, Soan Papdi. Under it, Biplab scribbled, and half her share of Murukkus. Needless to say, the aforementioned conditions were unacceptable to the other party and were potent enough to start another war.

XxxX

The next time Mayank came to take her to meet Nishit, she did not tell him that she had already met him. She went because she had promised Nishit she would come again.

He dropped her outside and told her he’ll come after thirty minutes.

‘An hour,’ she said and ran inside.

Perhaps because she was alone this time, Mrinalini did not venture out leaving them alone. It was only when Nishit told her that the bed sheet had not been changed since morning and the dustbin had not been emptied that she went out to complain. 

The hour passed too quickly and she realized Mayank must be waiting for her, so she got up.

‘Leaving?’

‘Hmm. I came with a friend. He must be waiting.’

‘Will you come again?’

‘I will,’ she had already decided she would.

She was going out when a group of boys entered. A few she recognized, a few of them she didn’t. Volleyball kids.

‘Ohhhhh,’ they booed and wolf-whistled, making her uncomfortable. Then entered Sana, who looked quizzically at her and then Nishit. A gaze that Kirti did not like at all.

‘Bye.’

‘Phir aana, Kirti.’ Someone hollered.

Mayank was fifteen minutes late.

A few days later she asked Mayank if he could take her to the hospital once again. He refused.

‘If Dadi gets to know I am aiding you in your clandestine meetings. She’ll be heartbroken.’ 

‘Clandestine meetings? How dare you?’ She hit him on his shoulder.

‘Beat me however much you want but I will not break Dadi’s trust. What a  conflict I have been in, the past few days!’ He sighed exaggeratedly.

‘No, my friend I cannot. Between friendship and trust, I choose not to betray trust. She expects me to take care of you, to guide you on the right path. No...no...no,’ he covered his eyes with his arm. ‘Do not ask me to choose. I cannot take you to your boyfriend.’

‘Boyfriend?! He is not my boyfriend!’

‘Is he not? Is he not? O, but maiden, then what is he? Who is he? The one whose mention brightens your face, as if someone has rubbed the petals of lilies on your cheeks. Who is he that lightens your eyes as if you've found the brightest of stars.’

Fuming, she lunged at him, ‘Drama chal raha hai tumhara yahan? Main hi mili tumhein?’

Avoiding her and running away at a safe distance, he continued ‘And who is the one whose mere presence causes the violins to play…Love is in the air…What is the song that you like...Right...Chot dil pe lagi…’

‘Yuck! Shut up! Shut up! He is just a friend. Only a friend.’ Unable to catch him, she slumped on the wooden grimy chair in his unkempt garden. The hibiscus branches touched her head.

‘I should not have asked you to take me!’ She bit out, wiping away her angry tears.

It was when he heard the trembling in her voice that he hurried to her. 

‘Are you crying? You are crying?’

‘I am not,’ she closed her fists, willing the tears away. But both her nose and eyes were treacherously leaking. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she reiterated, ‘He is only a friend.’

‘I know, Kirti. I am sorry. You know me. I was only teasing you.’

‘I did not tell Dadi about meeting him because she wouldn’t let me go. She doesn’t let me go anywhere. He is my partner, if I hadn’t gone to meet him, he would have felt bad. Then he said to come again because he was bored mostly, so I went with you. This time I had to tell him about projects so I was going...nothing else.’

‘I understand...I understand,’ he said, kneeling before her. ‘Now stop crying, please. Should I hold my ears?’

‘No. I am not crying,' she said, feeling embarrassed and terrible with each passing moment.

‘I will take you to meet him, okay?’ He appeased, ‘Now smile. Smile quickly Kirti. My feet cannot support my weight.’

She smiled, the wet pearls still stuck to her lashes.

‘Hah! Thank God!’ Mayank sighed, falling flat on the ground.

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘The fair maiden finally smiles. Her smile is like a gentle wisp of…’

‘Not again! Please get up. This is very embarrassing. If Ammaji or uncle walks on us. Get up,’ she said, agitatedly.

‘And what if anyone would have walked upon you crying? I would have been declared a villain! My career would have ended before it even began!’

‘I am going,’ she threatened.

‘Okay, pull me up,’ he stretched out his arm.

‘What are you both doing?’ It was Shruti who walked on his theatrics, looking at both of them curiously. 

‘Nothing. He has lost it! Let’s go.’ Kirti ran to her friend.

‘Were you crying?’

‘No, let’s go.’

Kirti did not go to meet Nishit again. Even when Mayank offered it repeatedly.

Two listless weeks passed when Nishit returned to the class. Bruised and battered but relatively better than the last time she had seen him.

‘Should I go sit somewhere else?’ She asked him.

‘Why? Don’t want to sit with me? Found another partner in my absence?’

‘No. I thought you’d want to sit alone so that you can sit comfortably and stretch your legs.’

‘No need.’

‘OK.’ She asked Vishnu, who sat behind them to pull their bench so that whenever she wanted to get out, she could do so without inconveniencing Nishit.

‘You did not come to meet me again,’ he asked while staring ahead at the blackboard.

‘I could not.’

‘You had promised,’ he looked at her this time.‘Don’t make promises that you cannot keep.’

She turned on the pretext of pulling out a book from her bag. She did not have drivers at her beck and call. He should understand that it was difficult for her. Was it not enough that she had come? Not once or twice but thrice. Accusing me like that! Embroiled in her angry brooding, she failed to deliberate on the fact that his words betrayed.  That he had waited. For her. 

[MEMBERSONLY]

[NOCOPY]