Love, Unrequited [Thread 2 : Pg 140] - Page 39

33. Buta Batata’s Helicopter

[PAST]

'My Nightingale, why are you making my poor lad cry? Do you not take him out to Shruti's place? See how he has swollen his eyes with all the weeping! Take him along with you, child. How would it matter?’ Karuna harangued Kirti.

‘But Dadi…’ Kirti opposed, glaring at the kid who was throwing a wobbly.

‘Come Babu, come to your Dadi. Ah, see these fat tears! My sonna beta,’ Karuna pulled the boy into her lap, wiping away his tears with the end of her sari. ‘You know na, beta, he's so attached to you. After your mother…’ The grandmother continued with the intent to inveigle Kirti into giving in.

'Fine, stop crying! I will take you, okay?' Kirti said testily.

The little boy jumped out of Karuna’s lap, wiping off the snot with the back of his hand. A huge grin began to form which loosened up the sore muscles of Karuna and eased the loops of her heart.

'Which dress should I wear, Di?' He asked, hugging her legs and looked up at her, his eyes, twin animated stars. For a nine year old boy, he was too short and clingy!

'The one that Papa got you in Dussehra,' Kirti replied, still nursing a grouse against him.

'What will you wear, tell me? I will press it for you. My daughter, whatever she wears, she looks so pretty.' Karuna probed while getting to the task of massaging her ruffled feathers.

'What do you care?! The apple of your eyes is happy no? Be content, now!’

‘Arre, but my lauki - my bottle gourd - is bitter. How shall I be at peace then?’

‘I am no lauki!’ Kirti had been bestowed the sobriquet by her father owing to her tall and wiry figure; and, also because of her acute dislike for the large, green melon.

Since a certain Baba Ramdev, while doing age defying, bone limitations defying acrobatics on national television, had sang praises of a certain vegetable, a golden era - just like the Devonian period was for the amphibians- for the Cucurbiticiae family had been ushered in. Lauki aka Laginaria siceraria had been that son of the family who had been attempting all the government job examinations without any luck and had suddenly received a call letter from LBSNAA. Catapulted into fame overnight!

The market was replete with the vegetable and Kirti had been forced to eat lauki for breakfast, lunch and...dinner which was quite a damper for her taste buds. Hadn’t her Dadi heard of the concept ‘Too much familiarity breeds contempt’? Clearly not for she wanted Kirti to drink bottle gourd juice during intervals.

‘You’ll grow tall, my little Nightingale,’ Dadi would say. ‘Your legs will grow, and you’ll leave everyone behind, so fast you will run in the race!’ She was talking about the race of life because Kirti’s father was against any sort of extracurricular activities. ‘Sports and games, waste of time, all of them!’

‘Arrey Dadi, if my legs grow any longer than they are now, sadly you’d have to give me away to the circus. Where, paired with the smallest person, I would be prancing in the middle of the fair, entertaining grand-kids of the likes of you. Lauki loosens up bones too, right? Maybe I’d throw some acrobatics in my performances too. You know, surprise the wits out of someone, somersaulting from behind and then disappearing their child from their arms and throwing them up in the air.’ Her grandmother’s aghast features made Kirti rush in with her story, ‘And catching them back obviously. Hehehehe. Wouldn’t be that bad no, Dadi? How much do they pay these men? Are there women? Would I be the first of my kind? Would I become stuff that children read in GK books? Who was the first girl to be appointed as a circus tallest freak? Kirti Singh. Fill in the blanks. She belonged to dash State.’

‘Stop your nonsense and drink the juice.’

‘Clearly Dadi, you’re an old geese! Anything I say is water off your back!’ Kirti had huffed, throwing the green watery liquid down her throat in one swig.

Now as her Dadi, hovered around her trying to butter her up, Kirti’s face acquired a haughtiness and stubbornness reserved only for her family who were ready to bear all her tantrums.

‘I will comb your hair and tie it prettily with a ribbon,’ Karuna said, her eyes twinkling with the offer.

‘No need. I will go to Sandy aunty. She knows more style than you.’

Hurt flashed across Karuna’s face.

‘Of course she should know better! She owns a beauty parlour after all. But don’t you doubt these old hands. See, this hair, do you think I have greyed my hair in the sun? Meena Kumari, Madhubala, Nargis, Waheeda Rehman, I’ve tried all their styles,’ Karuna swanked about, coursing her hand through the length of her thick, luscious pigtail. ‘When I would wash my hair - not with the chemical shampoos you people use these days but with shikakai and bhringraj - the whole mohalla would leave their work and come out to take a peek at the silky curtain that my hair was.’

‘They must also go waxing poetic about your hair Dadi, then. Karuna Ki Khule Keshu... Aise Jaise Khet mein lehlahate Gehun…Ouch but you’re no blonde. Okay maybe, like black sesame seeds in full bloom.’ Karuna’s open hair ...is like a sight of blooming golden wheat dancing in the fields.

Karuna rapped her granddaughter’s head. ‘Making fun of me, are you?’

‘In fact Dadi, you should totally take up some hair commercials. Karuna Ke Kaale Kaale Baal, KeshMol Ne Kiya Kamaal...KeshMol Ne Kiya Kamaal...KeshMol Ne Kiya Kaamal…’ Karuna’s Shining Black Black Hair...KeshMol has done wonders ...(3)

‘Aa...Dadi I was just joking…’ Kirti defended herself when her hair was yanked. ‘This is not going the right way, Dadi. From dedicating odes to your hair, how did we come to damaging my hair...Arrey Dadi be gentle…’

‘Why? Doesn’t it sound poetic enough? Kirti Ke Pyare Pyare Gaal, Dadi Ne Kar Diye Laal…’

‘Kirti Ke Pears wale pyare Gaal, Dadi’ Kirti corrected and earned another rap on her head.

XxxX

'Behave well, Biplab. Don't talk unnecessarily. And don't eat too much. Don’t get my nose hacked because of your silly tantrums. I’ve some reputation in these parts.’

Biplab imagining the whole process of a nose being hacked and a noseless sister, giggled at the same time when the door opened.

‘Hello. Good evening. We were invited to Tejas’ birthday party. Here is my invitation card.’ It was her first invitation. Until before this, she had seen these freshly printed glossy cards pass around in the class, never to stop at her desk. The classmates would discuss the birthday bash and she would feel left out. Not, this time though.

The lady appraised both the kids before letting them into the house.

Kirti, before entering, looked back at the gate where her father stood. She sent him assuring words in the air and waved him back.

‘Call me when you’re done,’ he mimed. She blinked her eyes in concurrence. Her brother’s grip around her fingers went firm as they stepped inside the big bungalow. She had the mind of not gasping audibly as she took in the extravagance of the house for the maid(Kirti guessed she was the maid, a haughty one at that) walked along with them. The woman said, ‘Tejas Baba has gone to his grandfather’s house. He will be back in sometime.’

The flurry of servants ran around as the woman next to them rattled off orders.

‘We weren’t expecting guests so soon,’ she said patronizingly. She wore a plain stiff saree with a thick border, sported a high bun, had thick brows and wore a choleric expression. Kirti wished the woman had a mole on a chin for a fine finish.

‘Umm...the invitation card read seven o’ clock,’ Kirti clarified. Fine, it was still half past six but her father had to go carry passengers so he had dropped them earlier. Did she come across as too over enthused? As someone who had never attended high class birthday parties? Kirti drew courage from her brother’s warm hands.

‘Please sit here and wait,’ the woman said, taking them to a huge velvety sofa, where when the kids sat, it looked like they sunk in.

Kirti was glad to see the woman disappear into some corridor.

‘It’s so cold Di,’ Biplab whispered.

‘Must be the ac,’ She looked around to detect the electronic machine, not knowing the whole place was centrally air conditioned.

Hands above each other placed in her lap, they silently waited observing the servants put in last minute touches to the decoration, which was grand, Kirti thought. Nothing like Nalasopara and Borivali birthday parties.

‘Di, your friend is not here? Why are others not coming? Di, can I go out and look at the lawns?’

‘Ssshhh,’ she was quietly admonishing her brother when a familiar voice walked into the room, right into her vision wearing low riding cotton track pants. Torso naked.

‘Rati Mashi...Rati MASHII!!! Where’s my emerald green shirt? Why do you have to wreak havoc to my wardrobe? I can take care of my own things! How many times do I have asked you not to touch my things?!’ He railed on his furious tirade.

Then, as if, finally feeling two pairs of eyes on him, he turned to them and sucked in a breath. Definitely sucked in a breath because Kirti noticed his tensed stomach go in.

He, fully aware of his state of undress, stepped back immediately, then thought something, pushing his hands into his pants pockets, stepped in, shoulders squared, his visage devoid of any bashful colours.

‘Hi,’ Kirti said, thinking yeah, this kind of confidence. She needed only this in her life and she’ll be good to go. Somebody finds you in a state of undress and you still don’t cower.

What is it after all? Bones, muscles, a few organs. Vestigial in men, blooming full fledged in women! Just human anatomy.

‘Hello, Bhaiyya. Happy Birthday,’ Biplab stuck his hand out.

‘This isn’t Tejas, Biplab. This is Nishit. Nishit, this is my brother. I have brought my brother. Is it okay?’

‘What is it Baba?’ The woman who had disappeared into the corridors, appeared.

‘My emerald green shirt,’ he snarled and then, ‘Come in my room, Mashi, now.’ And he turned around, striding away, colliding with a servant, muttering something, hurting himself in the eye (at which Biplab snickered discourteously and Kirti had to pinch him shut), muttering an expletive and hastened in, the twin of the yesteryear Sashikala scurried, following him with her soothing words.’Baba, are you okay?The shirt should be...’

‘What spoilt children?! Can’t even find a shirt on their own.’ Kirti shook her head. ‘Don’t grow up to be like them, Biplab.’

XxxX

‘Zoey...Zoing...Zooie..Zoing..’ The chubby toddler went about driving his helicopter at Kirti’s feet. She pulled her legs up in the air when the helicopter came precariously close to running over her feet. The toddler cackled, enjoying the game as she put her feet down.

She had arrived really early. No guests had come which was good since Tejas had yet not arrived. Nishit had returned though, into the room. Dressed in his emerald green button down shirt, and cream pants. Sitting right across her, he was immersed in the gadget in his hand which made abrupt sounds at intervals. Unable to quell his curiosity, Biplab had ditched her and shifted to the other sofa, sitting next to Nishit and hands clasped, patiently watched the older guy shoot enemies or jump bridges.

Her brother wanted the handset, Kirti thought. Maybe, she would ask Nishit what it was and buy Biplab one during Raksha Bandhan. That is if it was affordable. The toddler again drove the vehicle over her feet, his cackle rising loud and clear in the air. A young woman- maid again- had deposited the child here before rushing to her work. Kirti looked at the child affectionately, and pulled him up on the sofa, seating him next to her.

‘Do you want to play?’ She heard Nishit ask Biplab. Her brother looked at her before shaking his head in denial. Kirti, satisfied with her brother’s behaviour, turned to stroke the baby’s chin. He laughed easily, with a twinkle in his eyes. What a lovely creature, Kirti thought.

‘Damn! Can’t clear this round! You think you’d be able to do it for me?’ Nishit asked. Her brother furrowed his brows, looked at her once again, she averted her gaze. The temptation must have been too much for he gave in accepting the challenge and the handset.

She focused on the kid next to her. Buta she thought it was called for because the mother had addressed the child with this name. However, it must be a mistake on her part. Who would name their child Buta or Batuta, Batata whatever it was. The kid stood up, sometimes leaning against the backrest of the sofa and sometimes hanging on her shoulder, he began flying his helicopter over her head.

At first she humoured him, but when the strands of her hair started getting pulled out or when his drool began wetting her neck, she tried to push the child away. The child, thinking it was all a game, charged back at her with full force, the helicopter closing in on her head.

‘Not over my head, Batuta. Fly it over the arm of the sofa.’ The child it seemed did not understand adult human language. He warbled something in reply and then threw himself at her. Throwing himself all over her, he was attacking her head with the helicopter, leaving her defenseless(because how were you to attack babies without being called names or charred to ashes from the fire bolts falling from the sky for such a huge sin) when the baby was pulled away from her by...Nishit. She was about to take a sigh of relief but could not because when the baby was being dragged back, it pulled back its toy and when the toy was lugged, with it came her head attached.

XxxX

‘Nishit, take it slow…’ She pleaded. ‘You’re hurting me,’ she said, looking up at him with moist eyes.

He looked at her tawny eyes and exhaled a sigh. ‘See, I’m trying my best so if you can, keep the tears at bay.’ Biplab hovered around them. ‘Move it back, no, roll the wheel back, Bhaiyya. Not this side, that side.’

‘Biplab, go and play the game,’ Nishit ordered, dispelling her brother off.

A bunch of her hair had got tangled in one of the tiny wheels of the helicopter. She had tried to yank free but to no avail. Rati aka Shashikala had pretended to try for a few seconds before offering to bring a pair of scissors to chop off the hair. Kirti had been horrified at the suggestion and was about to break down but Nishit had intervened.

‘Let me give it a try.’ Trying he had been for the ten minutes. First, he had smoothed down the rubber band off her hair and then gone on to untwine the strands around the wheel.

‘Aahh,’ Kirti yelped again. ‘Nishit!! Leave it if you can’t. I will do it on my own.’

‘Uffho, shut up, will you? You tried on your own and that’s how it became so complicated.’ He was annoyed by her constant interruptions, she knew. So she tried to be patient and quiet as he stood before her, one leg on the sofa, the other down on the floor and she encased in between.

‘Will you be able to free my hair? You know how long it took to grow this long? What will I say to my grandma, why do I have an owl tuft in the middle of my head?’

‘Instead of the bak bak, you like jokes right? Listen to this. The photon checks into a hotel and the bellhop asks if he’s got any luggage. The photon replies, No, I’m traveling light.’

‘Oh, hanh, nice joke.’

‘You don’t get intelligent jokes do you?’ Miffed, he pulled at a strand of her hair and she yelled, ‘Haha. It was extraordinarily funny. Oh my stomach, I just can’t…’ and she saw him purse his lips.

‘Calculate what would be tan 15 - tan 60 in your mind, and just shut up or I can call Rati Mashi with her scissors.’

She kept quiet for fifteen seconds before starting, ‘I don’t why such things happen to me.’

‘What else has happened?’ He had by rolling and unrolling the wheel, released a few strands, but a few more were left.

‘Once I went to a friend’s house to celebrate Diwali. And we were bursting crackers. She had this huge agarbatti to light the crackers and somehow, you know, she burned my nose with it. It was accidental. My nose collided with the incense stick while she was pulling the stick back after having lighted an anaar. But you see... things keep happening. Here, you can see a scar lining along my nose.’

He pulled away from the diligent task of freeing her hair, and surveyed her nose. ‘It isn’t visible anymore.’

‘Oh but it’s there. The scar has faded but if you look hard it’s there.’

‘Do you by any chance use Johnson’s baby shampoo? Your hair smells like it,’ He remarked.

‘Oh no, it’s not my hair,’ she replied shyly, ‘It’s... my face. I washed it with Johnson Baby soap. My face has been breaking out so I have shifted to mild soaps. The shop was out of Pears so I bought…’

‘I was just asking like that. Johnson's smell is very distinct and familiar, that’s why.’

‘Helloww Nishit,’ a woman stepped inside the room, and Nishit stepped back from Kirti immediately, the toy dangling from her hair. Kirti picked up the toy, deciding to finish the rest of the task on her own.

‘Hi Chachi,’ he said.

The woman was in a silk sari, her hair short, falling over her shoulder. She was loaded in silver oxidised jewellery.

‘Where’s the birthday boy? Bhaiya and Bhabhi?’

‘Mom and Tej are out visiting Nanu. Dad hasn’t arrived from work yet.’

‘Oh. I will go and pee, okay? Have been controlling the entire way. Your Chachu is outside parking the car.’ The woman said and rushed inside.

Nishit turned to resume his task but heard ‘Ho gaya. It’s done. Biplab, Nishit see it’s done. My hair, it’s safe. It’s out from the vestiges of this wicked helicopter.’ Biplab, with a handset in his hand, was lost to the world. Nishit smiled, reclining back onto the sofa, pushing off the fallen hair away from their path with his foot.

‘Please give this back to Batuta,’ she said, handing him the darned helicopter. The child had been handed back to his mother already.

‘Hey Champ!’ A male now entered. Tall, and very handsome, hair upto his nape. The Chachu?

Kirti sat straight, raking her hand through her hair trying to look presentable. Her Madhuri Dixit pony designed by Karuna had been lost in the scuffle.

‘Wow, you’re pretty! Lovely lips.’

She rubbed her lips consciously. Should she not have applied the lip gloss?

‘Your chick, champ?’

Acutely uncomfortable under the strange man’s gaze, she felt Nishit go stiff. ‘Cut if off,’ he muttered and to Kirti he said, ‘You were worried about bringing in your brother, right? Come with me.’ He said and got up. She and Biplab followed him to some huge purple pink room where a little girl sat engrossed in a book.

‘Prasanna,’ Nishit said.

‘Bhai’

‘Here, this is Kirti, my...classmate and this is her brother, Biplab. Let him sit here with you for sometime.’

Prasanna’s gaze travelled the entire length of the boy.

‘Okay’ she said, ‘ but take away that video game. We either read here or we read here. Nothing else allowed.’

XxxX

‘Than..’ Kirti was about to express her gratitude and also question him as to why even after facing such calamity together, she still didn’t qualify as his friend. But before she could say anything, Tejas swooped in, his arm going around her shoulder. ‘Kirtiii, you came!’

Turning towards the birthday boy, she gleefully, shook his hands. ‘Happy Birthday!’ In her side vision, she could see Nishit slip away, the opportunity to proffer a hand of friendship, slipping away along with him.

‘But what are you doing here in Nishit’s room?’

‘I wanted to fix my hair, so he brought me here and lent me a comb.’

‘Ho gaya na, let’s go’

XxxX

A white tulle tube crop top paired with a mini denim skirt. Sana looked very different, somehow older and mature. Sagarika and Mehek were in pretty A line dresses that hugged their figures. Manisha was wearing a red front bow crop top and blush colored high waist cargo.

They had all arrived and having acknowledged her for a few minutes moved on to their groups.

To Kirti, it looked as if everyone had a personal designer. She looked very immature and young in her maroon plain top and grey jeans. That sport shoes, she should have given a miss and gone for heels or something. But she had no heels. Who wore heels in ninth standard? They are all mostly fourteen or fifteen. Wasn’t heels for older women?

The cake had been cut and they had all had their dinners as well. It was a sumptuous dinner. So many items. The elders had moved to some other room and the room - empty of any furniture - where there were only people of her age, the lights were dimmed in it, whatever light was it was washed in green and red neon. She heard everyone in the room cheer. Music started to play. DJ music. All English songs. Kirti automatically stepped back into a corner where cold drinks and water service table stood.

Dance and that too publicly was not her forte. There were few others who were sitting it out.

She saw Tejas surrounded by their group. Sana, Mehek, Navyam. All jumping up and down. Then slowly Mehek and Navyam shifted away, with only Sana and Tejas left together. She looked for Nishit. He was in a different group. A girl sticking to his side. She was a junior. Kirti had seen her at school. Very pretty, well endowed in the boobs department, the girls would talk. Boys were crazy about her.

Manisha was waving and inviting her. Kirti shook her head and showed her a thumbs up, ‘I’m good.’

She decided these high class birthday parties were not such a hit after all. The classmates had been all exaggerating. She would any day prefer her mohalla parties over this. Where they would play cassettes like Baar Baar Din Yeh Aaye and Naam Hamara hota Gablu Bablu… They would sit in lines over the mat spread floor, while elders shouting out to bring some more kheer, serve her some more puris as they sat and watched children eat.

‘Hi,’ someone breathed next to her. Shaggy haired boy, straight teeth, she noticed as he smiled dreamily.

‘Hello,’ she greeted politely.

‘Kirti Singh, you are. Right?’ She had seen him somewhere but couldn’t place at the moment.

‘Yes. How do you…?’

‘Amit Raj. DIP school. Your school had organised Alpha. I was there. Participated in the Math Treasure Hunt.’

‘Oh yes, I remember.’ She had been providing clues for the second round. He had asked her to spill some hints for the third round while borrowing her water bottle, she had shook her head sagely, saying, ‘I’ve no idea myself.’

‘You know Tejas?’ She asked, her eyes surveying the dancing crowd and inadvertently colliding with Nishit’s who was also at that moment, looking at her while dancing with the big boobs girl. I am catching up with the lingo of the students here, Kirti thought. Would I become mean as them? Because just now, she wasn’t liking that junior even a bit. Kid trying too hard!

‘We go to the same cricket school.’

‘Oh,’ she reverted the attention back to the boy standing in front of her.

‘Want to dance?’ He asked.

‘No’

‘OK. Why?'

'No reason'

'Will you be coming to our school for the Udaan festival?’

‘Not sure,’ she answered honestly. It would depend if her father allows her or not. Involuntarily, she looked to the emerald green side of the world. His eyes, again on her, he was walking out of the dance floor. Towards her?

‘You should definitely come. Our Udaan are the talk of town.’

‘I’ll try,’ she said, ‘I’ve heard a lot of things about it too and excited to see it.’

‘Hey Nishit’ ‘Heyya Amit’ They fist bumped each other. Then turning to the table, Nishit picked up a glass and gulped down water, hungrily.

‘Enjoying?’ He asked Amit.

‘Very much’

‘Not dancing?’

‘I was here to invite her to the UDAAN festival.’

‘Personally?’

A wolfish grin was Amit’s response. ‘Actually I was also here to invite her for a dance but she doesn't agree,’ Amit said, making her feel awkward.

‘Nishit, it’s really late. Can I make a call to my father?’

‘Hmm. Follow me.’

‘Bye Amit, see you later,’ she said, leaving the room.

XxxX

‘You do not have to wait here,’ she told Nishit. Her brother stood next to him, yapping about games and other things, all of which he listened reverentially. They were outside waiting for her father.

‘No big deal,’ he said.

‘Your dance partner must be waiting for you.’

He did not reply.

‘Will you go to Udaan?’ he asked instead.

‘Pata nahi. Papa most probably won’t allow. I hope he does. I don’t want to miss it. Is it really that amazing, like everybody says it is?’

‘All exaggerations!’

‘Oh but Amit inside he was…’

‘Who Amit? Oh him?’

Before she could register that they were talking more than two syllables and it didn't involve a crisis and she could proffer that hand of friendship, her father had arrived and he had left soon after.