I
“You go in there, hand her the rose, and honestly tell her how you feel about her.” Twish said to me.
“And after that?” I wasn’t quite sure of his plan.
“And after that, if she’s ‘yes’, then we’re happy.’’
“What if she’s ‘no’?” which she was bound to be, going by the conventions of female hood.
“Then we’re sad, and she’d be a certified bitch”
“Don’t you dare call her that” I got an impulse so repulsive that my need for the hour was to skin Twish.
Twish never took any offence from my insult; he said “Someone’s gradually becoming possessive” Seeing that I was not saying anything to this provocative statement, he said again, “Well, you’re a nice guy, there’s no reason for her to be ‘no’”.
“There is, I’m too nice a guy, girls like jerks these days.” We both laughed.
Twish was two years elder to me. Though he was my senior, our relation was far more like friends from the beginning. It was 4:15 PM on an autumn afternoon, and we had assembled in the park which is adjacent to her English tuition. I could have been here for myself, but Twish offered to help as he had once had an experience of similar sort.
Twish lighted for himself a cigarette. I never liked his smoking habit, but since it was his personal life, I never said anything. He let out some smoke and said “All possibilities considered, there’s seventy percent chance for her to be ‘yes’”.
“And what about the remaining thirty percent?”
“Well…that depends on her mood, her mentality, her outlook, the day of the month and the weather. If you see it from another view…”
I cut him short, not because I didn’t want to see it from another view, but because I could see her coming out of her tuition.
‘Twish, duck’
‘What the hell for?’
I forcibly made Twish duck. We both ducked behind the merry-go-round. Her spotting me was the last thing I wanted.
“Man, you need not get all worked up” Twish smirked.
“I’m not getting worked up; I just don’t want her to see us.”
“Well, maybe she can see me…I’m calling her name, Saanjh-“That could have been the end of it, Twish’s hoarse scream alarmed my sense, I hurriedly pulled him down. Over the other side of the boundary, Saanjh was looking everywhere around her to find the face behind the voice that called out her name.
“Are you insane?” I was furious.
“No buddy, you are, in her love” Twish cracked a swinish smirk.
I remained silent wondering should I just kill him or should sit back and laugh at my puppy love.
For the next ten minutes, we both remained silent. She crossed the street and walked past the boundary of the park with her friends. Her friends were the only reason I didn’t want her to see me now. In a small town like ours, rumors about a girl and a boy spread faster than the speed of sound.
“What now?” Twish asked.
“We walk back to my home; from there you collect your bike and fuck off in peace.”
“I’m surprised you have so much courtesy.”
We’d walked half the distance when Twish opened his mouth again.
“So, are you really going to propose to her?”
“No, I was bunking my Economics tuition and ducking around behind a merry go round because voices told me to do it. Common man, you know it’s serious now.”
“Okay man, it’s just that I never thought you’d find a girl of your choice. All the best.”
That night, I reflected upon his last words. Yes, finding a girl of my choice was always supposed to be a mammoth task. Nowadays, there is apparently no girl who is cultured in the true sense of the term. For the sake of theory, even if we assume there is a well cultured girl, she is not beautiful. Beauty is but secondary to me, but I could do with some beauty. If by some providence there is a beautifully cultured girl, she is committed. There are no exceptions.
Saanjh was different. Not because she was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, but because she was sensible. She could tell the difference between Mario Puzo and Twilight. It is an established fact that girls instantly become more attractive when they like Rock n Roll. And this was precisely the case with Saanjh. She was never conservative or fundamentalist as such, and when I saw her wearing that black Pink Floyd tee, I knew she was the one.
That night was passed not in the anticipation of sleep, but in planning the D-Day that awaited me. I thought of making the proposal a bit more dramatic, like with a letter and everything. But then, Twish’s advice of keeping it simple superseded all my plans. At first I’d decided to replace the word ‘Love’ with the word ‘Like’, but then I considered the possibility of her taking it rather as a ‘friendship proposal’. Let not my casual linear narrative lead you to make an impression of all being sunny on my side. In getting all excited and making all plans, I’d never forgotten the worst case scenario, her rejection. Slitting wrists and writing gibberish love poems won’t become of me I was sure, but if her rejection would surely give me an impetus into the plunge pool of anti-socialism into which I was already half-way down. But that was not my problem right then. A rose with a brief statement should do the job. I had rehearsed the statement thrice in front of the mirror that night. And by the time I fell asleep, which was in the early hours of the morning, I was all locked and cocked to ‘pop-the-question’ to her.
II
Statement: Checked. Rose: Checked. Clothes: Checked. Hairstyle: Checked. Shoes: Checked. Heart: Live & Racing.
Our meeting was fixed at 1600 hours. The day being ‘Shashti’, or the 6th day of the month, marked the beginning of the auspicious Durga Puja for us Bengalis. Autumn brought with it positive vibes. My town was geared up for the four day festival. The idol of the deity was supposed to come to life right at dusk. So bright was the occasion that I nearly expected a positive outcome by the end of the hour.
Many of my friends had already left town with their parents on their long-drawn-out Puja holidays. I being an exception as always, had stayed back, and so did she. In anyway, there was no chance of any of my classmates witnessing today’s acts. In a small town like ours, even a little trifle as a girl and boy talking is adequate to raise eyebrows and stimulate rumors of every kind. I was lucky enough that no one except Twish, I and Saanjh would know the details of this afternoon. At about ten minutes to the scheduled hour, I left home in hopes, thinking of what to do after she’d be ‘yes’. I had even bought a chocolate bar for her with the twenty bucks saved from my tiffin allotment.
The venue, the park in my locality, was all light up in bright shades of yellow. The ‘Pandal’ as we call it here was complete, and people inside were making preparations for the life-infusion ceremony. I sat at one corner of the playground and prepared myself for a ten-minute wait, for a Gentleman arrives early on the venue.
Then she came in, like an exquisite rarity. Whether it was the glow of the setting autumn sun on her face or her innate aura that radiated from every part of her, I know not. All I remember is that I stood there mesmerized, unable to fathom the depth of her beauty, so much so that It took her more than three times to bring me back to reality.
“Rimon, Can you hear me?” she said for the fourth time.
“Yes, yes, I can, I can…thanks for coming” I said.
“It’s okay.”
“Please have a seat” I showed her the concrete slab. She sat without ceremony.
After listening to the cacophony of the retuning birds and main-road traffic for five minutes, she broke the silence.
“Probably you could tell me the reason for our meeting this afternoon.” I had a feeling that she knew what the reason was, but still wanted to hear it from me.
“Umm…it’s nothing…just; I had a few things to say to you…May I?” I stumbled upon every word.
“Yes, go ahead.”
The time had come. I’d chosen the right words for this moment.
“We’ve been friends for quite some time now. And, of late, I’ve developed a liking towards you…I was thinking…” I stood up at this instant “I was thinking if we could be together…like a couple…”
“Like a couple?” Her voice was apathetic.
“Not like a couple, I mean…I really like you…” the thing was going awry, her eyes told me.
She stood up, and said, “Look Rimon, I know what you’re going to say, and I also want you to know that at this age, I find it unneeded to get involved in all this love-nonsense. I mean, it is our age to study, to live life and everything. You wouldn’t like me all that much, and it is not with any feeling of malice that I say all this.”
I faced the ground.
Her every word, every letter, rained fire on me. I stood there shell-shocked, knowing that it was all over. Mayday-Mayday.
It took me three minutes to pull myself together, in which time she gave me another round of ethical lecture about love being an infatuation at this age and everything. I remember her last words.
“I’d rather like to be your friend, forever and always.”
With my eyes still to the ground, I said, “Only as a friend?” I was conscious of a lump in my throat.
“Yes, as a good friend. You’d like me more as your friend than your lover…and why, what is that you’re hiding?” she pointed out to the white rose that I had stolen from my neighbor’s garden.
“Oh, that…that is nothing” said I and flung the purpose-less rose to the far end of the playground. She didn’t say a word at this.
“I should leave now, or else Ma will go out alone. You sure are alright?”
“Okay, yes, I am.” I swallowed hard. No way did I want her to see my eyes. I never asked for sympathy.
“By the way…”
“Yes?”
“I brought this for you.” I handed her the chocolate bar.
“That’s so nice of you, I love chocolates.”
The sun had set, and all that remained were the last few streaks of red in the sky and my eternal darkness. The streets were Halogen flooded. She alighted and walked away towards the park gate. Midway through, she waved her hand and cried, ‘Bye!’ I reciprocated, but the resonating beats of ‘Dhak’ drowned my feeble voice. ‘Bodhon’ had begun.
Later in life, I would always remember that one autumn afternoon in times of my feeling low or depression. That one afternoon everything of my life, everything including my desirous inclinations was burned alive. By the end of that afternoon, I could visualize the both of us, me & her, standing atop two cliffs with an ocean flowing in between. She had been so distant that all my attempts of bringing back would have proven futile. Cold and distant- that was the look in her eyes. I knew exactly what those eyes told me-‘Here endeth everything between us’. End of the orange dawn, the crimson evening and the Prussian night. If I open up my scars once again, her face is still to be found, with memories from that autumn afternoon.
There was no point in staying at the park, so I got up and started walking towards home. Near the park gate, I found the chocolate wrapper which she had dumped. I picked it up and took it home, as a material object blessed with her touch.
The wrapper still rests with me, inside my History book.
The Beautifully Grotesque 