Foreboding Love

“Hello, Aunty, where is Ishana?” Shivani chimed.

“Hello, beta,” the sweet voice of my mother echoed through the house. Why couldn’t she ever use this tone with me? Would she die if she ever showered her slightest love on me? I cursed her bitterly.

“She is in her room. Why don’t you go there, but only study okay?” I was still confined to my room when I heard them talk. I envied Shivani for all the love she got. Not just her own mother loved her; even my mother spoke to her in such loving fashion.

“Can’t promise, Aunty,” she laughed and opened the door of my room. The echoes of my mother’s laughter followed her in. The sound of my mother’s laugh felt so alien to me that a shiver ran down my spine. I jerked off the eerie feeling and looked at Shivani. Dressed in her usual hot-pants and tank top, she sat on my bed. I gaped at her for a moment. She seemed so happy in her life; no tensions creased her thin, long face. Also, no arch-enemies of hers lived inside her home – my arch-enemy was my mother. She was the luckiest person; she could dress the way she wanted, eat what she wanted, and sleep whenever she wanted. She was even allowed to live like a boy – she had military-cut hair and looked nothing less than a tomboy. She also didn’t let anyone call her Shivani; instead, everybody called her Shiva. And to top it all, nobody forced her to score the highest. Last year she hardly scored 70% and her parents were over the moon. I so envied her, but she was my next-door neighbor and best friend. Also, she was my only friend!

When you are tortured and harassed every day, when you live in constant fear, you don’t attract a lot of friends.

“What’s up?” she asked as she placed her slim legs on my bed and opened up the biology book.

“Nothing,” I responded looking back at the book. Like always, she sensed I was upset, so she threw her book away and slid next to me.

“O-kay,” she smiled and placed her face on my book. She had beautiful brown eyes, and there was a small mole inside her left eye, next to her pupil. This mole made her eyes even more stunning.

“You guys ogled again today?” she teased me, and I blushed. To her, we were two stupid people who simply didn’t have anything better to do than ‘look’ at each other.

“I wonder why you are so into him, I find him rather average,” she sighed as she stared out of the window. I shrugged at her response, she continued. “All you have ever done is flirt with him from a distance, I don’t even find him good-looking,” she declared. What she thought of Dev was not my concern, I liked him and that’s all that mattered.

“I think you both should meet. It’s been so many months since you both are flirting by the window!” Shiva declared and I dropped my pen in shock. Yes, it’s been almost six months now since we first saw each other, but I had no courage in me to meet him face-to-face. Shiva, who was bolder than me, acted as our mediator and helped our case.

Dev lived on the third floor of the multi-storied building next to my house. And the best part was - my window had the clear view to his. Dev studied in St. Stephen’s and was in tenth too. Shiva and I were in Hari-Shashtri. His father was a big businessman and politician. His mother was a housewife. He enjoyed playing basketball, which owing to his good height was an advantage for him. And he liked to watch TV, a lot. He was the only son. And the way he spent time on his window, flirting with me, I had a feeling that our attraction was mutual.

“I am scared to meet him, what if he doesn’t like me, you know, up-close?” I sighed, and Shiva gave me a puzzled look. “I mean, what is there to like in me?” I continued as I pointed at myself, “I only wear full-sleeve salwar suits, I have waist-long hair which I am never allowed to let loose in the open, I am quiet and utterly introvert,” I complained, agitated.

“Seriously?” Shiva rolled her eyes and stared at me incredulously. “Are you this naive?”

“What?” I was offended.

“Don’t you see boys lay their hearts for you?” she mocked with animated gestures. I stared wide-eyed. “Oh come on, you think boys are just polite to let you park your cycle closest to the gate? Or are they too generous to bring you food in the canteen or let you have the best instruments in the lab?” she threw some random examples from our every day.

“They do the same with you too,” I remarked.

“That’s simply because I am your best friend. They don’t extend this courtesy if you are not around or to any other girl,” she laughed. I stared dumbfounded. The sudden realization of self-importance gave me a subtle pleasure. I smiled.

“I don’t care what our school boys think, I only wonder why he likes me, I am so boring and simple,” I finished pointing at the window.

“Yes you are simple and boring, but you are also gorgeous and sexy; your salwar suit gives you a grace and uniqueness that lacks in all other girls like me. Your beautiful, long hair has the luster that draws attention. And it is your quiet and introvert nature that flatters everybody else,” she finished, beaming, and I just gawked open-mouthed.

“What is wrong with you?” Her words of compliments were laced with flattery and it was so unlike her.

“To be honest, these are not my words. I borrowed your boyfriend’s sentiments,” she giggled. I didn’t like the word boyfriend; it sounded like a filthy relationship.

“You are so lucky you get to talk to him now and then, I don’t think I can even dare that!” I sighed and hung my head. Shiva rolled her eyes dramatically. To her, talking to Dev or any other boy was not lucky. She was one of those cool girls who didn’t think twice before doing anything. She just did what her heart desired.

“I have a foreboding feeling about him, Ishana. He is not the right guy for you.” My heart sank at her ominous prediction. I looked down at my palms, and something there gave me strength.

My expressions must be funny because she was staring at me confusedly. At this, I held up my palm and showed her my hand.

“Don’t you see? We are destined to be together.” I pointed at my hand.

“All I see is your palm. Where is the destiny?” She enquired, a bit curious. At this, I picked up my pen and drew something on the lines of my palm and showed it to her. She gawked at my hand for a few seconds and then banged her head on my desk, dramatically.

“What? Can’t you see what this means?” I was shocked with her reaction. A big ‘D’ was written on my palm and wasn’t it destiny when it was written in the lines? Not sure about her, but to me, destiny was nothing but ‘love’. I expected her to marvel at the revelation, but she didn’t care. Though it didn’t matter to her, it really mattered to me. Deep down I knew, Dev and I were destined to be together.

“You do love him, don’t you?” she inquired, and I examined my own feelings. Would you call it love?

“What is love if not a passionate heartbreak?” I cited my philosophical crap, and she slapped her forehead laughing.

“Okay, so Miss Queen of Philosophy how about calling him?” Shiva continued. It felt like she had pledged today to make us talk. And it’s not like I didn’t want to, I so wanted to hear his voice, get close to him and know him, but the thought itself scared me. My mother monitored all my phone calls – at times she even snatched the phone unexpectedly to check the person on the other end of the line. She never gave me spare money for calls from the PCO, and I wasn’t even allowed to step out of the house without work. How could I have a relationship?

“You know I can’t call him. Mumma will kill me if she found out,” I stammered at the thought alone.

“Your mother is such a sweet woman. I don’t know why you are so afraid of her.” She replied in an exasperated tone. You don’t know the real her, I thought sarcastically. “Anyways, you can call him from my place; my parents don’t fuss about the phone. If they did, I could never call you,” she finished looking at me expectantly, but I chose to ignore her. I focused on the book that was open before us and read the next words out loud – “A pulley is a machine consisting of a wheel over which a pulled rope or chain runs to change the direction of the pull used for lifting a load.” However, before I could read ahead, she snapped the book close.

“What are you doing, our pre-board exams start in a few months. Mumma will hang me if I score less this time.” I was really worried about my grades.

“You topped!” Shiva looked at me in disbelief. We had recently written our first term exams, and only yesterday our marks were revealed. Yes, I stood first in my class but I scored only 85%, and my mother was not happy. Her beating from the morning was still fresh in my mind and body.

“Mumma expected more than ninety percent,” I hung my head and Shiva started laughing. A parent demanding good marks was an alien concept for her.

“Maybe I should remind your mother how difficult tenth is,” Shiva remarked and I shook my head scared. My mother enraged enough to beat me again was the last thing I ever wanted.

“Your good marks are justified, but I wonder how come Sumit scored in seventies?” Shiva wondered, and I shrugged carelessly. Sumit was my competition in school, and it was him who topped our school in ninth –and the reason for my mother’s abuse. Sumit and I always competed for the first position. To the school we were arch-enemies but what nobody knew, including Shiva, was that few days before first term I had deliberately bumped into him. Deep down I knew I had an advantage over boys and that day I had tested it.

*

Interaction with Sumit – two months ago

“Are you okay?” Sumit questioned as I bumped into him during lunchtime. I had morose expressions on my face.

“No, I am not!” and I started shedding tears. It was my first pretense with any boy, and it was clear it was his first long conversation with any girl. He looked nervous. My heart raced at the thought of my next words.

“What happened?” he enquired curiously. I stared at him for a long moment. I had never seen any boy this up-close before, except for Rakshit of course. He had dark complexion, and evidence of recent pimples reflected on his skin. There was also a hint of mustache around his lips. He didn’t spark any interest in me, but I had to do what I planned.

“You are a genius,” I complimented and he smiled. Everybody knew he was not a genius, instead, he was extremely good at memorizing words. All term he would literally swallow all words and then in final exams, he would vomit. However, if you cross-questioned him on anything, he would stare blank. He was a lucky bastard blessed with incredible memory!

“Not more than you. Last term was the first time I outscored you.” His tone was laced with pride of beating me.

“I know,” and at this, I cried harder. I hid my face in my hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

“Why are you crying?” he was hyperventilating. It was clear he had never been in such situation before.

“My mother, she had threatened to marry me to an uncle if I stood second again,” I spoke between sobs. My words were 100% true, but the usage felt cheap. I shrugged the feeling and focused on Sumit.

“What?” he was shocked. I nodded, sadly.

“Your mother?” he stood open-mouthed. Like any normal person, he too couldn’t believe that a mother could be so cold-hearted.

“What do you want from me?” he demanded worriedly.

“Can you please not score perfectly in this term?” I begged as I folded my hands I front of him. He just stared.

“I…” he pointed at his chest but suddenly, out of instinct, I grabbed his hand and begged. “Please, you can score well in finals. It’s only a matter of a term. Nobody will beat you with a cane if you came second,” I cried squeezing his hand between my fingers.

“I…” he was speechless. He was staring at my fair fingers wrapped around his dark hand.

“Please Sumit,” I let go of his hand and wiped my cheeks. Batting my eyes, I continued, “I hope you don’t hate me so much to deny such simple request.”

“How?” he was stunned.

“All you need to do is skip one question. That’s it. You will still score excellent, just that my mother will not kill me,” I whispered and dared to step towards him. He took an involuntary step back.

“Fine! But how come your mother?” he started.

“It is a mystery to me too,” I smiled sympathetically. The sympathy was not towards him – he was just an innocent boy who was so easily manipulated by a girl – instead, it was towards myself, who was abused on a daily basis.

“I am sorry about your… err… condition,” he finished.

“Thanks. Can you please keep this a secret?” I requested twirling my braid in my fingers.

He nodded solemnly and smiled.

*

Back in Ishana’s room – Year 2000

“What?” Shiva waved her hand in front of me to bring me back to the present. Post that interaction, Sumit had behaved in a much friendlier manner with me. I reciprocated his friendliness with a smile, after all, he did score poorly in that term. I just hoped he didn’t expect me to hold his hands again, the thought itself felt sick!

“We should study,” I remarked coming back to my senses.

“Pre-board exams are not until December,” she shook her head in disbelief. It was our routine – I always tried to study, and she always tried to stray. I was about to argue when she posed the most dreading question of my life, “So what are your plans for next week?” she beamed, and a chill ran down my spine.

“It’s his birthday, you ought to do something,” her stress on word birthday made my heart skip multiple beats. I had been dreading the arrival of his special day. Not because he expected much, but because I wanted to do something and was helpless.

“Meet him and make his day,” she offered with a jubilant smile. Meeting for the first time on his birthday seemed like a great idea. “And, you should also go bearing gifts,” her suggestion forced my heart to sink even lower. What good could come at free of charge?

“So, how much do you have?” she asked curiously. I shook my head disappointed. Even if I started saving now, I wouldn’t be able to save even fifty rupees by the time of his birthday.

“By the way, he is super-rich and kind of a spoilt brat, so whatever you gift him, he may already have it.” She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, and my heart dipped further. “Do you know his father owns the building he lives in?” she continued in an impressed tone.

“Really? I never thought of him as a super-rich kind of boy! That’s why he is in St. Stephens.” I wondered out loud. St. Stephens was the most elite school for boys of our town. It provided the best education, and hence it was super-expensive. I was in Hari-Shashtri. It was an average co-ed school. My father was a compounder in the government hospital, so he earned just a tad higher than bare-minimum. My mother was a housewife, but she had super-expensive dreams and demands. Hence, after the expense of our education, household requirements, and my mother’s extravaganza demands, my father could hardly spare enough to afford better schools. I was not ashamed of my education status because I knew that was the best my father could provide. Shiva, who came from a wealthier family, went to Hari-Shashtri only for convenience. She and I had been best friends and neighbors since kindergarten. Her parents wanted to move to a better locality, but every time they brought it up, Shiva created a ruckus, and they had to stay put. ‘You can move when I go to college,’ was her constant reason. Also, her parents wanted to shift her to St. Joseph, a much better school but she outright refused to leave her best friend behind, that is, me.

“Oh yeah. Just imagine if you both got married, all his family fortune will be yours.” She beamed with excitement but my face fell. We belong to very different worlds then! How can we be together?

“Hello? Already lost in all the glorious money?” She broke my sad reverie. I jumped out of bed and pulled out my battered, old purse. I showed it to her; it was empty.

“Do you have twenty rupees?” There was a pity in her eyes for me. I shook my head, and she hung hers in disappointment. So many times she had offered to lend me money, but I found it inappropriate. It’s not like I felt insulted, instead I believed that taking money from her meant taking undue advantage of her friendship. I could sense she was about to offer me money, but in that moment I remembered something.

A sudden, frenzied excitement ran through me. How could I have forgotten? I cursed internally. Quickly, I peeped through my door; my mother was nowhere nearby. It was seven in the evening, so she had to be busy in her neighborly gossip.

Slowly, I bolted the door. “If Mumma comes, you locked it accidentally,” I ordered Shiva, and she nodded, confusedly. And then, free of all prying eyes, I picked up the stereo system. It was second-hand, old, and battered, but I loved it nonetheless. It was my second confidant – after my books.

“I won’t let you sell this. Your parents will kill you.” Shiva was shocked at my actions. I shushed her, angrily. Her voice was too loud for my mother’s dog-like ears.

“I love it, and I am not selling it.” I rolled my eyes as I put it on the bed. My words relaxed her a bit. “Promise not to tell Mumma?” I whispered, and she agreed.

“I hide money here. It’s my secret piggy-bank.” And at this, I opened the battery compartment of the stereo system. And hidden there, stuffed in an old sock, were multiple coins of fifty paise. She exclaimed with joy and surprise, but I shushed her. I could tell she was impressed with my canniness. Slowly and quietly, we counted the saved coins; they added up to fifteen and a half rupees only.

My miserable reality devastated me. I had been hiding the spare money for months now, and that was what I had been able to collect. It was not like my family was so damn poor; it was just that my mother didn’t let me handle even a rupee coin without accountability. She allowed me no pocket-money, and God forbid if I ever dared to eat out. Rakshit was given good pocket money, and though I was not a cheap sister to steal from my younger brother, I did use his ‘male’ status. There was always some change left for which he was never questioned. And I always took that change with his due-permission and saved it. I hated my mother for the gender-biased person she was. Why didn’t she love me like she loved Rakshit? I thought, miserably. Love should never be scarce in a child’s life; if it is, it breaks them from within. As I re-counted the loose change on my bed, tears filled my eyes. However, before I could shed them, Shiva scooped up all coins and pocketed them.

“Here,” and she handed me a twenty-rupee note. “I borrowed money sometime back and forgot to return it to you. So the debt is paid now.” I knew she was lying but what could I do? I felt guilty, miserable, and embarrassed for taking money from her, but I was helpless. Unlike me, her parents never asked for a detailed breakdown of money spent. I quietly took the money and made a mental note to pay her back.

“Now, we can get him a present.” She smiled, and my heart filled with gratitude towards her. She was my one true friend, and deep down I knew that our bond of friendship was purer than any blood relation. My eyes filled with tears again, this time they were of indebtedness. However, before I could utter thanks, she snatched the money back from my hand. She spoke thoughtfully as she rolled the note and placed it back in her pocket, “I have an excellent idea. Your darling future husband is going to get his brain exploded by the present you are going to give him.” She smirked, and I turned red at the mention of the words ‘future husband’. Could he be the one? Could he be my future husband? My true love?

*

Shiva came through with her promise, and a day before his birthday, she handed me a small packet. I peeked inside. It contained a small cassette in a case. The cover of the cassette had a couple, kissing, and the words read ‘I love you’. My heart skipped multiple beats at the sight of the cover. The way the man was wrapped around the girl made me exceptionally uncomfortable. I didn’t want to give Dev any false hopes. “Oh, just take this apart,” Shiva sensed my hesitation through my expressions and pulled out the cover and tore it. She handed me a piece of paper to write a personal message. I hesitated at first; I didn’t want to write anything in my own handwriting; what if my mother found this? She would kill me, literally. I looked around for options - writing with a stencil would not just be tedious, but also very impersonal; then my eyes fell on my calligraphy kit. I quickly picked it up and wrote in my beautiful calligraphic hand – “Happy Birthday Dev.” It was beautiful, elegant, and had my personal touch. And the best part was that nobody could tell I wrote this. I admired it with pride.

“Nice touch.” Shiva smiled as she carefully placed the note in the cover and started to wrap it.

“How did you manage this in twenty rupees?” I couldn’t help but feel grateful. “And what all songs does it have?”

“Umm… don’t bother, I know how to get things done at a cheap price, and this has all your favorites like ‘Deewana Tera’.” I felt my face turn red with heat. She regarded my feelings for a moment, then smiled. “I know that you really like him, so I just thought you would like to gift him your confession on this auspicious day.” Her smile was full of glory, and I just looked down, smitten.

That night at twelve, I lit a candle to wish him first. I had turned off the lights earlier but waited until midnight to wish him. To me, that candle was the symbol of my love, and I just hoped he saw my confession in the bright flame that burnt all night.