I poured the nescafe coffee powder into the grinder with two spoons sugar. Followed by two spoons of water. After grinding, poured 1/4th cup of milk into it. After some labor (by grinder), I saw the cream made up. Into the milk already boiling, I fully transferred the ingredients of grinder. Just after a short time interval of five-six minutes, hot cappuccino was ready!
I came back to my bed and sat awake.. it was 3 in the morning, as soon as I gulped down the first sip from the yellow coffee mug with black stripes thinking about manisha. Her long hair, her full lips, her eyes. I was transported into time gone by
*******
It’s the 8th grade. Manisha was my classmate. Always the topper.
I knew her since the 1st grade. We weren’t close friends or anything . I was shy so I didn’t talk to girls. But I have always liked her. Even though we were kids, I loved to watch her dance recitals in school. Her hair was short then, but still lovely.
She impressed me. I don’t know why, maybe because I had heard my mother speak highly to her on school open days or maybe because mom couldn’t stop praising her dedication towards studies and her hard work. I looked up to her.
I liked the same girl all my school life . I wonder how I couldn’t talk to her for the entire primary school. There was this one time though, the time when we had an exam and I forgot a pencil. She was sitting three benches in front of me (the closest we had till then). I got up from my seat and asked her for a pencil. She looked at me for around four seconds. Then quietly then took out the pencil and gave it to me-
“this pencil writes very fast”, she said.
Then I don’t know why she said that. But years later, she told me that she had seen my mother scold me for not being able to complete the paper on time.
Now, don’t translate this into love. She didn’t love me then . maybe she liked me. But nothing more than that.
I think till girls don’t reach puberty, the only people they can love is their parents. Did i?? I loved her . men can love at any age. In fact, men can love anyone at any age, maybe they are more individualistic or stuff.
After the summer vacation of 7th grade, everything changed . on the first day of 8th grade, the grade in which boys wore full pants instead of their half pants, I saw the change in her. She was , well , she looked, more girlie. She had always been girlie, pink lips, cute key chains and all, but there was something different about her. She had curves. Subtle ones, concealed under the looseness of her pinafore, I kept looking … she was becoming women.
I would be lying if I say, while looking at her my eyes or mind didin’t go astray. Puberty is such a gift. It suddenly gives losers like me, enough courage to express what we wanted to say since years…
I used to find ways to be with her, it could be something as stupid as signing for an art class. I hated art classes, and there I was , taking extra classes!
I would look at her , paint her imaginations. I would be lying if I say; I din’t have ‘thoughts’ about her. I wanted her in my arms and make her mine. Maybe the testosterone drive was too high in me or something, but I didn’t feel that about any other girl.
I think she liked me too; I caught her looking at me many times . I looked back at her, but she made sure she never looked back. She would fix her glare on something, the duster , the chalk, or her hands, anything, but avoid my stare. The shyness in her, fuelled me. I felt like such a man.
Her dad worked for power ministry of india.
In the year that followed, my only aim was to get some time alone to talk to her. In school, it wasn’t possible. My friends made sure they teased me as soon as I got within 1 meter radius of her. She would give me a shy smile and runaway from there.
The only time we met alone was in the school van. My classmates took a different van’s, so we two were the only ones from our class in that van. I used to sit just in front of her seat. I would turn back 90 degree to talk to her. There was so much to talk. We never ran out of things to talk about in 30 minute ride home. Her stop was two stops after mine, but I made it a point to get down at her bus-stop and walk back home.
I used to reach home a little late. And my dad would ask, “the bus reached late, beta?”
I wasn’t used to lying to my dad, but then, in those days, it was difficult telling your father that you had a crush on a girl and you went to drop her to her stop, which by the way , is kilometer away from our house.
I would lie to my dad, “umm, you see, the route of the bus has changed, it comes from M.G.Road.”
“does it?”, my father would ask smilingly.
I used to reach school early so that I could get a seat from where I could get a clear view of manisha. She usually sat on the second bench, I took fourth. She was good in all subjects, but she never showed off. In fact, she would go out of her way to help girls around her (those days boys and girls used to sit in separate rows). She would turn around to help the girl sitting behind with some algebra equation . she would look at me, just a glance, I would look back at her and she would avert her gaze.
Then there was a van ride after the school. That was the high point of my day.
“you have lovely hair”, I said one day in the van.
She blushed, fixed her stare on something outside the window, but she soon realised that since the van was moving , she couldn’t fix her stare on something outside. She had her hands In her lap. She fixed her stare on her palms.
“you have a deep hazel eyes”, I said smiling.
She looked up at me for a moment let out a smile that suggested she was uncomfortable with me saying such things but she wished she would continue… her eyes would rise from her palm to meet mine; then again she looked at her palms, like she could read palms and was on a major bareakthrough here.
“And you have a lovely smile,” I was enjoying it.
“Pawannnnn!,” she said cutely .
“you know what? you should become a doctor,” I said.
“a doctor? Why?”
“because it would be the easiest job in the world for you…. All you have to do is smile, and they would get cured.”
“oh shut up, pawan.”
She started talking a lot after that day. She talked gibberish but made sure she talked, so that It stopped me from talking about her hair, her eyes and her smile. But then, I have always done what I wanted to! I kept on talking about things, like teenage hearts talk about.
The year went by; it was the last exam of the year. After the exam, we were waiting for the school van. The van driver had let the watchman know that he was going to be late today. So most of the kids of our van had taken the BMTC bus or if they stayed close enough, had walked back home. After all, the exams had ended today and they were not gonna waste any time of their vacation waiting for the school van.
Manisha waited, her parents had asked not to take BMTC busses- they are dangerous, they said. So she waited. And so I waited along with her. To be honest, I found my van more dangerous and I suspected that the driver of the van, mr.sebastian, drove a truck part time. The latter declaration comes from the observation of his maneuvering skills, his utter disrespect for traffic rules and his vocabulary of indian gallis.
The van arrived. There were only five of us in the van. She took the last seat; I took the one in front of her. The other three got down in the second stop. Now there were only two of us.
“it was such a lengthy paper,” she said.
Studies were her favourite topic.
“yeah, but you still will top.” I said.
“hmmm…. My hands are tired . look at them.”
She put her palms of her hands for me to see. I held her palm, brought it close to me, and kissed it. She didn’t pull it back. She closed her eyes. I closed her wrist. She let me.
We got down at the last stop. We walked back home. Tears rolled down her cheeks. I asked her what was wrong. But she wouldn’t tell me. Tears rolled down her cheeks, like rain on a summer evening. Men take a lot of time to understand women. Here I was, just a boy of 14, confused and scared, wondering if my actions had hurt her.
“manisha? What did I do wrong?” I asked, confused.
“no pawan, you didn’t,” she said touching my arm.
“then?”
“I don’t wanna lose you.”
“you won’t.” I said. There is nothing beautiful than a girl saying she dosen’t want to lose you.
“ I am right here.” I said; spreading my arms, a move I copied from shahurk khan.
“I have to leave.”
“huh? Ok. I will drop you no.”
“I mean, I have to leave Bangalore. My dad’s getting transferred to Mumbai.”
The world came crashing down. I couldn’t walk more. I just stood there. She continued walking. She looked back- her eyes didn’t meet mine. Her tears had stopped. Mine had started. We were standing within meter’s distance from each other, but she seemed like millions miles away.
She was the only girl I loved.....
***
the last sip of my coffee passed down my throat. glancing at my life, from my memories i was back to present now..
P.S. i am having a date with the same girl tomorrow... we're meeting up after 5 years.... :) would write abt the date also... untill then enjoy this part of my life :)
