Dr. Priyamita’s story deals with the crush of a young schoolgirl for her teenage neighbour. She handles the characterisation and the plot subtly. An exclusive for Different Truths.

Riya remembered the first time she went to Debu’s place – she was all of eight and every bit as funny and awkward as any kid her age. Her mother had given her a Horlicks jar filled with home-made nimkis (savouries) and told her to give it to their brand-new neighbours who were just moving in next door, admonishing her reluctance to go to their place and telling her firmly that it was a duty of any self-respecting Bengali to usher in their new neighbours with a welcome gift. Riya was fully aware that her mother was dying to befriend the new neighbours because she was in desperate need of a gossip partner ever since the old ones left.

Debu was a typical rebellious nineteen-year-old, arguing with his mother vehemently over the fact that he still had to share a room with Taniya (his twelve-year-old sister) while Debu’s mother, Asha aunty, patiently explained that since they only had two bedrooms, the siblings had to share a room. As Riya stepped in, they stopped arguing and looked curiously at her while she placed the jar of nimkis gingerly on the dining-table and mumbled, “Ma diyeche…” (mother has sent). Asha aunty pulled her cheeks with the mandatory, “O ma…ki mishti meye!” (Oh, what a sweet girl!) before thanking her profusely. After that, there was no looking back. Riya and Taniya would play together every evening while their mothers sat and gossiped over endless cups of steaming tea. Occasionally, Riya would sneak into Debu’s room and look around in wonder at the posters of Hollywood celebrities or admire his collection of fountainpens. She always felt shy whenever Debu was around.

One evening, after much coaxing from her mother, she sought his help with some Maths problems. Thereafter, they developed a camaraderie. Debu would tease her incessantly pulling her pigtails or calling her Khargosh (rabbit) because her favourite t-shirt had a rabbit on it.

On her eleventh birthday, much to her delight, Debu gifted her a fountain pen. She showed off this much-coveted possession to all the girls in her school, who stared at it in awe. She often ran errands for her Debu-da, buying him chips and biscuits from the neighbourhood store, neatly folding, and arranging his clothes in his closet and sometimes, even choosing and laying out his jeans and tee before he went to college. She always brought him his favourite snacks – jhaal-muri, phuchka, chanachur, etc., while Asha aunty smiled at her self-indulgently. She also made it a point that her mother prepared extra methi (fenugreek) chicken for Debu-da because she knew it was his favourite!

One day Riya found a pack of cigarettes hidden in Debu-da’s bookshelf and showed it to Asha aunty, who started yelling at her son the moment he returned home from college. Debu was furious and much to her horror, muttered at her, “Get out of my house, never show me your face again….”   Her eyes smarting with tears, she ran away and cried for hours. Next day, after bribing Debu with hot jalebis from his favourite sweet shop and a small bottle of Old Spice (which she nicked shamelessly from her father’s cabinet), he was mollified, and all were forgotten. As she grew up though, she felt shyer whenever Debu was around, while he continued to pull her hair and call her khargosh, much to her chagrin.

On Riya’s fifteenth birthday, Debu had gifted her a novel, Little Women. As she scurried to his place to tell him how much she had loved the book, she noticed a pair of silver sandals at their doorstep. She went inside to find a demure girl sitting coyly on the sofa, next to Asha aunty who was talking animatedly with her and Debu. Asha aunty told her that she was Madhumita, studying in the same college as Debu and that their fathers were childhood friends. Debu, 26-year-old now, sporting a stubble (as was the norm amongst college lads) was glancing at the girl from the corner of his eyes every now and then and smiling sheepishly. Later that evening, Riya eavesdropped as Asha aunty was gushing at her mother, “You know, Madhumita is so talented. She got a rank in Engineering but chose to do a PhD instead and go abroad. I hope she knocks some sense into that son of mine…. It will be so wonderful, na, if both get married and settle abroad… all our relatives will be so jealous….” She looked wistfully out of the window.

Riya’s heart (which was stuck in her throat ever since she saw those silver sandals) sank to her stomach! Married?! Her Debu-da…married??! She couldn’t believe her ears; it’s like her worst fears were realised. She couldn’t bear the thought… she rushed to the bathroom, choking with tears! That night, she laid awake, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t sniff, lest her muffled sobs woke up her mother who was sleeping next to her. The next day, she did not go to Debu’s place, nor the day after. Her mother, exasperated, asked her what the matter was but Riya merely shook her head. Finally, her mother ignored it as typical teenage mood-swings.

One Sunday evening, she chanced upon Debu sitting at the tea stall with Madhumita, their fingers entwined. Madhumita was blushing and giggling like a stupid schoolgirl at one of his jokes while Debu was glancing around furtively for passers-by. Sure enough, a few months later, Riya’s mother informed her that both Debu and Madhumita were accepted at a university in USA and were soon to be betrothed, as both their parents wanted them to get married before moving abroad.

Riya ran her fingers over the golden wedding-card, wishing her nimble fingers could erase Madhumita’s name somehow! The memories came flooding back…Debu-da pulling her pigtails, chiding her for not understanding Maths, making fun of her English pronunciations, holding her and consoling her while she sobbed uncontrollably when her dog died, staying up late at night preparing her for her quiz-contest, treating her to her favourite sundae when she aced that quiz contest…countless memories etched in her heart – floating across like clouds in the clear blue sky!

The golden edges of the wedding-card glittered in the afternoon sun as she cut out Debu’s name from the wedding-card and stored it in her wardrobe, along with the fountain pen that he had gifted her…never to be used again!

Visuals by Different Truths

Dr. Priyamita Ghosh

A doctor by profession For whom writing is a fun obsession! Wields the scalpel and the pen Poetry, prose… all in her ken! Heartfelt stories through the doctor’s eyes Romance, humor, tragedy, from her pen flies!

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