December 2009
After attending a two-day training programme at Ludhiana I was returning to Delhi by the evening Shatabdi Express. The seat next to me was empty. Seconds before the train was about to leave, a bespectacled man in his early forties with salt’n’pepper hair claimed the seat. Surreptiously, I observed him from under my lashes. Expensive swiss watch, finely tailored suit and expensive cuff-links screamed money. His face, hidden from my scrutiny, was bending over his bag to take out his laptop. Mentally chiding myself for checking out a stranger, I turned my focus on the rapidly vanishing terrain outside the window.
My co-passenger, after fiddling with the laptop for sometime, turned towards me with a request, “Excuse me! If you don’t mind, may I use the electric socket to charge my laptop.” With a smile, I turned to say, “Ye…” and froze. Woodenly, I nodded my head and turned towards the window again. Is it really him? I refused to believe my eyes. Must be a trick of the lights. But the reflection of his face on the window confirmed my worst nightmare. A choked sound escaped my mouth and a pair of dark brown eyes clashed with mine. No, no trick. It’s Sanjay - in flesh and blood.
A flicker of recognition flared in his eyes before he quelled it quickly to look away. His face suffused with angry red color revealed his agitated state. Seconds passed into minutes. The air became thick with tension. Memories buried for so long kept tumbling out unbidden, unhindred…
April 1989
I was chilling at home post my class XII board exams when an invitation to stay at my uncle’s place materialized. Even though he shifted to Delhi with his family recently, an urgent official assignment required his expertise in a far-flung area for a month. His wife and two sons were not only new to the city but also to its language - hindi. I became a natural choice for filling this gap because of my knowledge of both.
Situated on the 1st floor of a four-storeyed building, their home was a modest one-bedroom flat. There were eight similar buildings facing each other, with a park in the middle. The park was nothing more than an elevated barren patch of land. Only appealing part was the balcony attached to the sitting room. It offered an unobstructed view of the park and the flats facing our building.
My aunt loved to gossip about her new neighbours. “That lady with orange hair is close to sixty but look at her loud make-up…God” or “That man with curly hair is upto no good. Police once took him for questioning.” I often wondered about the authenticity of these information since her knowledge of the language was limited. A week passed peacefully in which my life found an easy rhythm. My aunt introduced me to some of the girls in the neighbourhood. Sheena, a sweet-tempered girl with stunning good looks, was one of them.
One of the major problem in that colony was shortage of water supply. To resolve the crisis, authorities installed a borewell in the park. Residents would queue-up daily to fill water. A group of young boys used to often jump the queue turning the otherwise peaceful water filling process into total chaos. One morning, I fell victim to their pranks when they playfully kicked my bucket out of the queue. Everyone in the group started laughing while one boy, slightly older than the others, tried to pick it up. Snatching the bucket from his hand, I screamed choicest invectives at him and made a rude gesture with my finger before walking away.
Over the next few days, the rowdy gang turned my life upside down. They memorised my daily routine and followed me everywhere. Gestures like a mock salute or a deep curtsy became quite common. At the borewell, mysterious accidents involving my filled buckets became a routine affair. Situation finally came to a head when playing at the park became hazardous with stray balls hitting me from all sides. My aunt, after listening to the entire story, forbade me to react. Though I obeyed her diktat, inside I was a seething mass of molten lava.
One day Sheena came to our house with a birthday invitation. I was not in the mood but my aunt felt it would be rude to decline so I relented. Dressed in a simple white top and pleated skirt, I reached the venue of the party. The party, organized at the rooftop of the building, was decorated with string lights and low cushioned stools for seating purposes. Sheena was looking splendid in a turquoise blue silk dress. Just when I started relaxing and enjoying the party, my nemesis entered the party alongwith his gang-members. Since all of them belong to the same neighbourhood, I somehow expected them to be present. I simply chose to ignore them and they too left me alone.
After a reasonable hour, I got up to make a dignified exit. Sheena chose that moment to introduce me with the gang. One by one, all of them shook hands with me while Sheena completed the introductions. Key names that registered were Sanjay, my nemesis and Shekhar, her brother. Two things happened after that night - Sheena became my best friend and the rowdy gang stopped bothering me.
March 1990
My friendship with Sheena blossomed with passing time. We kept in touch even after my return from my uncle’s place. We kept meeting for fun outings such as shopping, movies, etc. Once she called me to a Hanuman temple near her house. Sheena was late, as usual. So I completed my puja and started distributing prasad to every outstretched hand in sight. When a voice said, “Thank you” I looked up in surprise. My eyes collided with a pair of laughing dark brown eyes of my nemesis - Sanjay.
A year has passed since our last meeting at Sheena’s party. A lot seems to have changed as far as Sanjay’s appearance is concerned. With a roguish stubble and few inches to his height, he looked quite appealing. Stunned, I stood there with my mouth open while he slowly took a bite of the prasad without moving his eyes from mine. It seemed like an eternity while we stood facing each other. Suddenly, he leaned closer and my treacherous eyes closed on its own volition. Bringing his mouth close to my ear, he whispered, “I think Hanumanji is for practicing celibacy. Please apply to Shivji for a suitable husband.” Then he was gone, leaving me fuming amongst the surprised onlookers.
August 1990
Shekhar joined the same college as mine. Shortly after that, Sanjay became a regular visitor at our college. Though our paths crossed many times, I deliberately kept my distance from them. These peekaboo sessions would have died its natural death but life played foul.
That year, the country was in the grip of a nation-wide student agitation against a proposed government policy. I also took active part in that agitation. One day a huge agitation was planned near a medical institute in Delhi. Most of the colleges participated in that agitation. Violence marred that event and as a result many students were injured. I too sustained some injuries. At the end it was Sanjay, who was also taking part, took me to a nearby hospital for first aid. For the first time in more than one year, we really talked to each other. Afterwards, we kept the conversation flowing between us whenever he visited our campus.
October 1991
Day for the college festival came with a bang. Our campus was brimming with students. I was performing solo that year and was so nervous that organizers literally pushed me on the stage. Mechanically, I moved towards the microphone but couldn’t muster the courage to begin. The crowd started jeering and the thought of running away crossed my mind. Just then I saw Sheena, Shekhar and Sanjay sitting right in front of the stage. Though all three of them were clapping for my sake, I felt strangely drawn towards Sanjay’s reassuring dark brown eyes.
Looking at him I started to sing - a song of blatant invitation from one lover to another. I sang that day - oblivious to the crowd - just for him. I sang that day - straight from my heart - just for him. I sang that day - with my heart in my mouth - just for him. I don’t know who clapped or jeered. I saw raw emotion, as naked as mine, reflecting on his face. I was hyperventilating backstage, when all three of them turned up. After much backslapping, they left me to change and meet them at the canteen. Sanjay quietly slipped a note in my hand and left with them.
Alone at the ladies room, I opened the note with trepidation. I had often fantasized about receiving a poetic declaration of undying love from my lover. But the reality was just one word written in bold handwriting - “YES”. What could be more poetic than this? I was in seventh heaven. Quickly, I started to change so that I can be with Sanjay as soon as possible. Sheena entered the room just when I was about to leave. I rushed towards her eagerly to share my news with her. But Sheena seemed to be in a highly agitated state,
“Forgive me, my friend!! I should not have meddled in the first place. It’s all my fault. ”
I tried to calm her down but it only increased her agitation, “I should have known. However small, he never forgets an insult.”
“Who? What?” I asked her in confusion.
“Sanjay.…who else. I just heard him talking to my brother about how he is playing with you.”
Sheena’s word slowly started penetrating my befuddled state. Finally when the understanding dawned, my whole world crashed in front of me. My head started spinning and I heard a loud groan coming from somewhere in the room. Sheena was saying something. I tried to focus but her voice kept getting fainter. The groaning sound became louder and I fainted. Floating between two world, I saw Sheena cradling my head in her lap and tearfully saying ‘sorry’ over and over again. I tried to remember why but was distracted by the sound of a constant ringing in my head. I tried to hold on to my consciousness but failed.
I woke up much later on a hospital bed surrounded by my anxious relatives. Everyone assumed that I passed out because of performance stress. I never corrected them. Post my recovery, I met Sanjay only once. That day I too slipped a note in his hand with just one word, “No.”
December 2009
An overhead announcement about an approaching station brought me back from my thoughts. Automatically my eyes searched for my tormentor’s reflexion in the window. He was bent over his laptop ignoring my presence. When the train stopped, Sanjay walked towards the exit either to stretch his legs or to put some distance between us. Taking advantage of his absence, I stretched my stiff limbs. Turning towards his seat, I looked with distaste at the mess he carelessly left behind - wallet, phone, laptop and some official looking files. Just then his laptop screensaver came into effect. It was a family picture of him alongwith his wife and son. His son, a splitting image of his father, seemed adorable. His wife still looks stunning even though she has put on a lot of weight since I last saw her cradling my head in her lap and tearfully saying ‘sorry’ over and over again.
Copyright: Shukla Banik
