LOVE STORY FROM SCHOOL

                                                   "THE GIRL WHO LOVED"

It was a good, shiny day. I was going to study with my childhood friends. I was in class VIII. I entered through the school gate; it was not like an English school. It was a Hindi medium, government school. The Morning Prayer didn’t start with fresh thoughts, everyone loitered, and some students teased other. The National Anthem didn’t finish in 52 seconds; the sound seemed more of a dysfunctional radio. However, it ended.

I dug the ribs of my friend Aakash, “where is our class?” He gestured me to a half-constructed building. We went there, everyone was asking me how I am feeling. Actually, I was a bit nervous. I sat on the first bench with my friends who were reading there since class V.

“You look new, who are you?” asked the teacher. Before I could speak, my friends announced proudly, “He is our friend Rahul, he is from an English medium school.” Giving emphasis on ‘English’.

“Okay, do you know your roll no?” asked madam.

I declined. She went through the register, but couldn’t find my name. I was taken aback, I said in haste, “I took admission yesterday, madam.”

“Oh! Then you will find your name in section B.” She said.

I kind of felt empty. My desire of studying with my pals deceased by mere probability. I took my bag, and left the classroom. While I was moving, I heard a sound of smirking, but I didn’t turn back to see. It was a sort of humiliation for an English-medium boy in this school where half of the students didn’t even know how to pronounce school well.

In the next section, I was given my roll no—150. After two hours, the bell rang, it was recess time. My friends from section A came to me and asked, “How was the class?”

I promptly asked them, “Who was smirking while I was leaving?”

“Leave that! Say how was the class?” said Aakash, one of my pals.

I said, “Don’t take the test of my patience, say the name?!”

“Oh! This adamant boy… Her name is Priya Sharma. There are two more cats with her, they are her best friends, you know. She is the topper of our class. Look, there she is. Now quench your thirst”, said Aakash in I-don’t-give-a-f*ck expression.

I gazed long at the girl who had smirked at me without even knowing me.

As I was from an English medium school, the things that were being taught in section B were very elementary and I worked it out in seconds. The teacher felt I should attend English in section A because Section A comprised the so called elitists. Me and my other two friends went to section A. The teacher in section A welcomed us, but there was no place to sit. You know, it was a government school—1:120 ratio. We had to bring a bench from our classroom, to learn English with the elitists. My pals of section A were happy, but a girl didn’t seem amused by our presence. Every day we had to take a bench to the next classroom to study English.

One day, Priya couldn’t hold her fire and burst out in front of everyone. “If you want to study, go and study in your section. Don’t come here.”

My friends were embarrassed, they replied back aggressively, but the spat was soon laid off. We didn’t go to section A afterwards for learning English.

One year later

It was the result day. Everyone was waiting for the results particularly section-A buffoons. First, the result was to be declared in section A. Everyone was staring at Priya and she was giving I-know-I-am-awesome expression.

The teacher declared, “Priya Sharma has stood second and Shankar Kumar has stood third.”

The result held everyone spellbound. Least to be talked about was Priya Sharma.

“Who has stood first?” shouted everyone.

The teacher smiled and said he is from section B. Priya’s mouth drop wide open. It was a moment when the pride of Section A got shattered and the elitist were struck dumb. My friends hurled to my section, I was being awarded the first division title. While my pals were enjoying, I saw the girls, they were staring at me.

After the prize-giving, outside my class, I couldn’t hold my anxiety and asked my friends, what is wrong with them, why are they staring at me so unpleasantly?”

One friend said, “This is the time of revenge, enjoy!”

I turned away and started talking to my friends, a soothing sound came, “Rahul, can I see your mark sheet?” Hesitantly, I gave my mark sheet. They saw it and Priya smiled back. I wondered, is something seriously wrong with these girls today?

I was promoted to class IX. I felt happy because an English-medium boy had taken Hindi seriously and I felt Hindi was very comfortable because it gave me the space to ooze my sentiments. The very stair of secondary schooling—class IX—had begun.

After few days

I woke up early in the morning, the milk-wallah rang the bell, he had come to serve fresh milk; the children had started making noise, people had come out of their homes. It was good to wake up early and witness the dawn, the pleasantness in the air. I had my first day of tuition today; it was from 8 to 10. I went to the tuition.

To my dismay, I was the only student in the tuition. I was alone; the tutor came after a few minutes. We started talking about Hindi and the legendary poets. It was not a sort of flip-to-last-page-and-answer-the-question type of class; it had its own ambience, the ultimate sophistication. It was more of a verbal class than a note-making class and it suited me. It gave me scope to think and imagine, and not just copy away like a drone. Within weeks, we started talking about history and The Mahabharata in details.

I went to school, now I was a student of section A, the elitists! Everything was quite good, now people started knowing me; I was no longer a ‘Bilaayti-guy’. Everything seemed fruitful. I was made the monitor of the class; Priya had started smiling more generously. It was perfect.

I had tuition in evening also, at 4’o clock. I studied Mathematics there. To my pleasant surprise, Priya also started studying there. We had a rough beginning to our relationship, but now everything was fine. I gradually started talking to her more often.

One fine morning in the tuition, a girl knocked the door. Breaking my muse, I saw her. She was wearing a churidar in violet, with flowers imprinted on it, a strap on her back made her more beautiful. She looked modest. Innocence and simplicity were the impressions I got of her, which radiated through her face.  Then I realized she is the girl from section A, my class, and the question rose in my mind was that why had I not noticed her before?

Again breaching my muse, she asked, “Is sir there?”

I replied hesitantly, “Of course… he is sleeping.”

She came quietly and sat beside me. I didn’t know her name. After a moment, sir came and welcomed her.

“Meet her, she is Shweta”, sir said. I looked at her and we burst into laughter. Sir took a wild guess and said, “Do you people know each other?” We nodded. We started our chapter on Kabir, the great poet.

Shweta and I started greeting each other in school, often exchanging smiles. But in school we rarely talked much. After few days, two more girls joined the tuition; unfortunately both of them were from my section.

I went to the evening tuition, this time Priya and I talked about our likes and dislikes, I was getting drowned to her. Evening tuition started being my favourite destination. After the tuition, when I was going to home, a girl who resided nearby my home told me that Priya was asking about me. I felt very happy; I wanted to talk to her again though I had talked to her just minutes ago. I gathered some courage and decided to call her.

I took her telephone number from my friend Aakash. I was scared, it was a landline phone, anyone can pick the call, but it was the love which was irresistible which drove me. I took my dad’s cell-phone and entered the number. The bell was ringing and all of a sudden it stopped. Someone has picked up the call, a female voice came. I just said “Hello” She replied “Rahul?” And as the flow of happiness ran through my body, we started talking. It was all good. That night I slept dreaming of her.

Next day, Priya told me in school to come early in the tuition. I worked up the nerve. I thought something is going to happen today. I came 15 minutes earlier. She had come before me. We smiled. I took my seat beside her. She took out something from her pocket; it was Munch, ‘bada pack’.

“Oh! I love it”, I said with excitement.

“I knew, you would love it”, she replied.

“How come you know my taste?” I said pretending to be nonchalant. Obviously, my friends would have told her.

“A bit of research”, she smiled.

“Thank you.”

She took a deep breath and turned towards me and gazed at me, not blinking, honest was in her eyes, humble were the emotions that flowed.

“I want to say something”, she said half-reluctantly.

“I am ready”, I said. I was.

A long silence precluded the surrounding, followed the moment, accelerating my heart beats to a breaking point. She held my hand; it created havoc through my body. She said the three magical words, “I love you.” I could not hold my emotions too, breaking the barrier I cuddled her, I replied, “I love you too.” The clouds had burst, it had rained. When we fell apart, she looked down; there were tears in her eyes. We cuddled again. We promised each other that we will always be together.

“Let no one know about our relationship, except your close friends, we will talk only in tuitions, less talk in school”, she prescribed nervously. I understood.

February arrived, the month of Saraswati Puja. While we were discussing about Saraswati Puja which was in two days our morning tutor asked, “Who was the founder of Mughal Empire?” No one could answer the question; everyone looked at me, expecting an answer from me. But I didn’t answer the question. Tutor laughed sarcastically at me. Before I could speak, Shweta replied, “Actually, sir, he knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to say.” This flattered me. I thought how come she knows more about me. Sir exclaimed, “Subtle guy!”

Shweta asked me for my Hindi notebook; she had something to copy from it. I gave it to her. She said that she will return it tomorrow. I smiled in reply.

Every year, our school organized Saraswati Puja and they needed a chief on whom they can put the burden of responsibility. I was the one selected for the big task. We had Saraswati Puja in morning tuition alsoand I was again the one who was going to host the Puja.

On the day of the event, I had to go to the tuition first, finish the work there and then go back to the school. It was getting late; no one had arrived on time. I got annoyed, the reason was obvious—first, I had to go to school and second, I had to meet Priya after all this.

“Has everyone come?” I shouted. Two of the girls were standing outside. I asked them to come inside as we were waiting for them. One of the girl replied that Shweta was taking time. “She is there–behind the doors”, she added. “Why is she feeling so shy?” I asked. Shweta entered. She was looking beautiful. The girls started remarking on her, but she was walked straight up to me as if she has not heard anything. She looked at me shyly. As always, I smiled back at her. I said, “You look beautiful, come inside.”

The other girl said, “Yes! You look beautiful” repeating me. The Puja started, the smoke was making me cry, but it was the oath that I had taken which didn’t let me walk away. The Puja finished in the tuition; we wrapped up everything and left for school.

I was late; I knew I was going to have tough time with her—she had told me to come as early as possible. As I reached the gate, she was looking at the entrance, but the moment I saw her, she turned back. It was not expected, I went to her, but she walked away as if she didn’t see me.  Someone called me and said, “The Pandit has not yet arrived. Look for him.”

I got busy. By the time I was done resolving the issues, she got lost somewhere. Now the Puja had started, I was still in search for her; I searched everywhere, but couldn’t find her. At the end, I went to the Puja mandap, the Puja was about to finish. Everyone was supplied palash flower to project onto Saraswati’s effigy when told. I too got the flowers. While my eyes were still searching for her! FinallyI spotted her beside the priest. I sighed in relief. I asked Aakash to give me his flowers. I collected all those flowers in my hand. When it was told to project, I threw it onto Priya instead. She looked back with annoyance, saw me. I smiled; she too couldn’t resist pretending being a lone-ire. She had to refute the anger. I came closer to her and held her hand in the crowd, and pinged in her ears, “I will never, ever leave you.” She clutched my hands more tightly; the bonding became stronger, inseparable.

Now the extravaganza was about to finish, it was the day of Visarjan(immersion of the statue). We took the statue to the truck. We all hopped onto the truck, but Shweta was struggling. I preceded my hands towards her, she grabbed my handand she got up. She looked happy. I too was very happy. I turned back and there it was: Saraswati Maa has turned toKaali Maa. Priya was looking away, I sought after her, but she didn’t respond. The ride started, everyone was singing the hymns, but Priya was singing her silent hymn which would soon destroy the terra-firma.

We soon reached the river. The Visarjan took place, the Puja was ledand it was successful, but Priya was still not talking to me which worried me. We were on the truck, coming back, I asked her, “What is wrong with you?” She just replied, “Meet me tomorrow in tuition.” I started wondering what wrong I had done this time.

Next day, I went to the tuition, but still couldn’t figure out what my mistake was. I took my seat beside her, she was crying, the tears gave me the essence that is something had gone grossly wrong. My heart started palpitating. I asked her to stop crying. She controlled herself however she was crying.
“Did you hear something about Shweta?” said Priya.

“No… nothing, what are you saying?” I said, still unable to decipher.

She fell silent. “Tell me, what is the issue?” I said, losing my patience.

“She loves you”, Priya said straightly.

“What… what, seriously? Who told you all this?” I yelled.

“Those two girls said that you are in a relationship with her.”, she said.

“What… how can you believe in this crap? You could have asked me, how can you believe in this hocus-pocus?” I shouted at her, helplessly.

“Those two girls said that Shweta wrote something in your notebook and you replied her something back, is it true?” Priya replied looking straight to my face.

“What… notebook?… something? What are you talking I am not getting this at all”, I said curtly.

“Oh wait, wait. I had given a notebook…err… Sh*t! Its my Hindi notebook”, I remembered suddenly.

I called my friend Aakash and asked him to bring my Hindi notebook from my home.

Priya turned curious, “What is it, tell me?”

I said, “Wait, everything will be clear now.”

Aakash brought that copy, I flipped the pages one by one, at the top of one page, it was written, “Rahul+Shweta, if you accept our relationship then you will smile when you will see me in Saraswati Puja.”
Sh*t!
Everything had gone horribly wrong. If this was not happening to me I would have even considered it comical. Shweta had thought that my smile was her reply. It was misconceived.

Everything was messed up. I thought I have to do something or else the girl would get drowned in illusion.

“Now what can be done?” said Priya.

I said firmly, “I don’t have the guts to tell Shweta about this.”

“One thing can be done—spread out about our relationship in our friend circle eventually she will know and everything will be fin…. ahem… finished.” I said in low voice looking away.

“But this is very serious; Shweta may not be able handle all this at once. And if this is fumed in friend circle then someone will definitely spread it to others.” said Priya worriedly.

“I understand this, but there is no other choice left. We have to take this step.” I said.

There was a long silence and then everyone nodded.

Next day, it was on everyone’s lip. Someone gave an innuendo; someone gave a wry smile which was enough to understand the travesty of the situation.

I woke up early that day. Actually, I couldn’t sleep well that night. The day was not like early days. The milk-wallah rang the bell numerous times, but I didn’t move a bit as if I didn’t hear anything. I could not gather courage to go to the tuition. However, I went. The place looked doomed. The two girls laughed, but the laughter seemed morose to me. There was a heart which was hurt, if not broken by me. How could I possibly be happy? Someone’s feeling has been thrashed, no one to accumulate, no one to give solace; it was hurtful because someone was deceived. And you can’t seek explanation. You could only sit and watch. I felt guilty of myself.

Who can possibly understand the agony of being in illusion of love, being cherished by your lovable one, whom you believe he is yours, being replied a smile on every node, being complimented—“you look beautiful”, being lifted by your soul-mate, but when the lid is blown away, when the curtain is taken off, you are no longer in illusion, you are left with utmost sting in heart, no one can possibly understand the pain.

I waited and looked at the gate every minute, but she didn’t come, nor did her soul peek over me. I waited and waited and waited…

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                                                                                                  SOURCE BY-MEARJUNSHA

PUBLISHED BY-OURHELLO.COM