I started going back to the crowd behind me in order to lose myself, but resisted myself. I drew myself up dignifidely and put my head down and took my bag on my shoulder and walked briskly forward towards the gate. Several girls were doing the same. I knew he would not notice me in them, but I couldn’t help glancing at him as I Passed him at a distance. He was looking at me, and suddenly waved at me. I had never waved at a boy... should I? I hesitated, then smiled and went on. He came up almost running.
“Hi! Are you angry? Listen, will you be here tomorrow?”
The tears came again in my eyes and blurred my vision. I couldn’t trust myself to speak at all. I blinked and tried to hide my face behind my palm as always. He laughed again, “Oh, you are so shy Meera. I’ll be here tomorrow at 3 O’clock. Please come and meet me, will you?”
“I won’t - why should I?” I said and made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. He was shocked, and said, “Meera! what on the earth! I... Has something gone wrong? Meera!”
My eyes were filled with tears and my lips trembled. I bit my lower lips very hard and blinked again. I went on towards the gate without saying anything, and went out without looking back and started walking home. I walked back the whole way to my home, all alone, physically and mentally.
You duffer, I told myself. For goodness sake forget it, because it probably was just another chap who would love to be called a boy with a girl friend. I felt bitter. I started having a debate with myself as usual while trudging all the distance. Shubha passed me in a car - not hers. Thank heavens, she didn’t see me. My thoughts began to churn themselves into an organized chaos... what is all this. Nothing, you’re frightened as usual. And don’t flatter yourself that any fool will look at you twice - remember that beautiful car? So what - but then go on, remember that ultra modern girl, her lovely voluptuous curves, and think of yourself! You are a dud, that’s what. Anyhow, he spoke to me. But probably he was a flirt, a street-side Romeo at the most, and you were the only available female in the vicinity.
But, I thought on, why did he wave to me? Because, you idiot, he wanted to hurt you. Why? Why am I hurt like this, why do I weep when he talks to me, why did I lie to him?!!... You lied, someone tells me in my inner heart, do you think he has not? What does it all matter, he will forget it all by tomorrow. Don’t make a fool of yourself - think of Ashok! Will I forget it.
Oh, his eyes! I turned the corner by the Central Bank. A long stretch of road lay in front of me. I remembered the long nasal sound that was his name and smiled in spite of myself. His eyes are beautiful - hazel in color, with a very attractive sparkle in them, and very frank, seeming to speak out. His hair was brown, his skin almost fair, and his mustachios not ugly at all. I felt ashamed again, how wrong it all was. I told myself to think of D, who would probably hold the string of my life in his hands by the end of next year. What a futile existence, what can I find in his eyes? he is not even friendly. I realized I wanted a friend. It was two - no - three years that Ashok had gone away. Rajeev seemed friendly, talkative, humorous.
I began remembering the cases I had heard of boys deluding girls in this manner. They even sold them for money! I felt nauseated - will this be my fate?
I had to stop at the railway gate - it was shut and I felt ignoble to cross over the fence. And I wanted time to think. Should I tell Amma? She will be shocked and dismayed. She has no time also, but even she gets it, she will never understand my desire to confide in someone, or at least talk to someone who is a good listener. Or will she? But she may say that she had never expected me to talk to strangers, that she was disappointed in me, that I was turning out a... a flirt.
What a disgusting thought! Should I have discouraged him by being very rude, saying something like, “ Why the living hell do you want to know my name? What business do you have? Try to keep to yourself.” and turned away detachedly? I couldn’t, of course. I’m not like the heroine of a modern novel. What should I do?
Listen you... you are in need of a friend. True, but does it have to be a boy? And a boy with a car, a boy with no feeling of ordinary life, a navy chap?
The train passed away thunderingly and I shivered in spite of the heat. In the long stretched out deafening noise. I dared to ask myself a vehement question, “Is it love?” Is it, is it, is it... the train seemed to say in its noise.
It is not, I replied definitely, and looked around to see if anyone had heard it. I almost felt cheerful to remember that I was bookworm, a dud, a plain girl of no importance, another middle class girl attracting no attention worth consideration. I knew what I wanted then, a consoling arm around my shoulders, and a happiness of uncritical understanding, the security of having just one friend in the world, the depth of knowing oneself - most of all, one’s worth in another’s eyes. This may be love, but it is certainly not anything bad, not what the other girls say - a hurried kiss in a dark corner is not really love - perhaps. I am not sure. I only think whatever you cannot do in front of your parents is wrong. I have not done anything of that kind.
Get your own Free Home Page