February is a good time to
The red lipstick has turned into a sweaty gooey pulp in my palm. I stare at the ceiling fan.
Don’t know why, but my mind keeps going back to the first day of college when I met Charu. Not sure if this is what regret is, but I keep wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t walked into the library at that moment and seen her with professor Gupte.
Maybe she wouldn’t have been embarrassed. Maybe she wouldn’t have made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone. Maybe we wouldn’t have become friends. But I did walk in. We did become friends.
That’s the reason why last night happened.
I look at my ruddy palm. The shape was perfect when Charu first gave me the lipstick - in a plastic chunmun bag. The bag also had an old mascara, socks and a spaghetti top.
I hid it under my bed all day, eagerly anticipating evening. Mummy came around 10- to check if Aashu and I were asleep. Under the covers, I heard her kiss Aashu and leave me out, as usual. I was used to it. I wasn’t their first child. Daduji had warned papa, “If you don’t have a boy, you don’t get the house!” Thankfully, Aashu came 3-years later.
I counted till 20, then woke up. Aashu was fast asleep; that made my job easier. I dug out the bag, hid it behind my back, and crept out of the room. Suddenly, daduji surfaced out of nowhere. I froze. Started breathing only when he went past me into the verandah and stretched out on the cot in the open. I was so scared. Don’t know why, though. He’s blind and potters about the house only because he’s used to the corridors and rooms.
I guess my fear came from the memory of the time I was caught red-handed with Charu’s eyeliner. I can never forget the look on mummy’s face, as she slapped me across the face. Hard. My face carried a mark for weeks, and everyone at college made fun of me. I didn’t discuss it with Charu. And she didn’t bring it up.
I slipped into the bathroom. I locked the door this time (can’t believe I forgot last time!) before I began the step-by-step transformation.
I carefully wore my lipstick, and applied my mascara. Then - just like she said - I stuffed the rolled socks in my bra, and slipped on the spaghetti top. The sight of my cleavage excited me a little. But I dismissed any thoughts of that kind because I was running late, and Charu and Ajay were waiting for me at Sadar Bazaar.
Some of Charu’s rich friends had told her that a foreign pop-star was coming to Agra. I didn’t know where she met all the old and rich, but she was always full of stories after she met them. I don’t know what Ajay thought of them - he never seemed upset on hearing the stories! And I thought that he truly loved her. In fact, he was always eager to hear her stories. Sometimes her stories shocked me, sometimes they went past me - like the time she met a 55-year-old man who she says tied her up and made her feel like the woman she really was. But usually, her stories stroked my deepest desires.
I’d often lie in my bed, all night, and fantasize. I was the one at the parties, not her. I was the one wearing the long gowns (like Sushmita’s at the Miss Universe carnival), the slit running a long way up my thigh. I was the girl who wore glitter on my shoulders and back, the girl who flirted with all the… and I’d find a handsome guy who’d take me away and make me feel a real woman.
So when Charu told me about this glitzy show, my heart leapt. I didn’t know the singer. All I knew was that he was from USA and that people from everywhere were coming to see him.
But daduji would never allow me to go. Once bua had asked if she could go to a birthday party (at night). Daduji took her to that room instead. Nobody knows what he said to her. But she never repeated the request. And she could never look into daduji’s eyes again.
But permission wasn’t my only problem. Charu said that only those above 25 were allowed - that too with an escort. I didn’t look a day older than 15, but Charu was clever, she had a plan for everything. She was going to ask one of her rich friends to bring along a friend. And she said, “Chill! The socks and make-up would fool anyone.”
Change – tears. The ceiling fan goes blurrrrr. Can’t count the number of circles each blade draws. The 40-watt bulb on the wall’s extra bright. I hug my flat-chest tightly. My nose feels cold against the flesh over my knees. My mind is filled with images of last night. Some in slow motion, but most too fast to figure out.
I was nervous by now. I could only think of getting out of house as fast as I could. I hesitated once before pulling up my long skirt around my knees, but there was no way the long boring skirt would have looked good enough for such a special evening.
I looked in the mirror and the girl staring back at me looked vaguely familiar. I felt a strange hollow feeling in my stomach – the kind of burning you feel when you know the teacher will call up to tell your parents that you’ve failed an exam. You know it will happen, you just don’t know when. But there was no time for all that.
I put on papa’s housecoat, jumped out of the bathroom window and crept out to the gate. Soon, I was out of the house. I ran all the way to Sadar Bazaar. Thankfully, Agra is dead by 10 pm. So there was hardly anyone. I reached the Bazaar in ten minutes flat. Ajay and Charu were waiting outside a big car with black windows. I was a little confident by now (besides, it was too late to back out). I quietly opened the door and sat inside.
Why I didn’t turn around when every cell in my body told me to, I will never know. What I do know is that it happened. Nobody except that man and I will ever know why it happened. Maybe it should have happened.
At least he made me feel like a woman. The one I deserve to be.
Don’t know why, but my mind keeps going back to the first day of college when I met Charu. Not sure if this is what regret is, but I keep wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t walked into the library at that moment and seen her with professor Gupte.
Maybe she wouldn’t have been embarrassed. Maybe she wouldn’t have made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone. Maybe we wouldn’t have become friends. But I did walk in. We did become friends.
That’s the reason why last night happened.
I look at my ruddy palm. The shape was perfect when Charu first gave me the lipstick - in a plastic chunmun bag. The bag also had an old mascara, socks and a spaghetti top.
I hid it under my bed all day, eagerly anticipating evening. Mummy came around 10- to check if Aashu and I were asleep. Under the covers, I heard her kiss Aashu and leave me out, as usual. I was used to it. I wasn’t their first child. Daduji had warned papa, “If you don’t have a boy, you don’t get the house!” Thankfully, Aashu came 3-years later.
I counted till 20, then woke up. Aashu was fast asleep; that made my job easier. I dug out the bag, hid it behind my back, and crept out of the room. Suddenly, daduji surfaced out of nowhere. I froze. Started breathing only when he went past me into the verandah and stretched out on the cot in the open. I was so scared. Don’t know why, though. He’s blind and potters about the house only because he’s used to the corridors and rooms.
I guess my fear came from the memory of the time I was caught red-handed with Charu’s eyeliner. I can never forget the look on mummy’s face, as she slapped me across the face. Hard. My face carried a mark for weeks, and everyone at college made fun of me. I didn’t discuss it with Charu. And she didn’t bring it up.
I slipped into the bathroom. I locked the door this time (can’t believe I forgot last time!) before I began the step-by-step transformation.
I carefully wore my lipstick, and applied my mascara. Then - just like she said - I stuffed the rolled socks in my bra, and slipped on the spaghetti top. The sight of my cleavage excited me a little. But I dismissed any thoughts of that kind because I was running late, and Charu and Ajay were waiting for me at Sadar Bazaar.
Some of Charu’s rich friends had told her that a foreign pop-star was coming to Agra. I didn’t know where she met all the old and rich, but she was always full of stories after she met them. I don’t know what Ajay thought of them - he never seemed upset on hearing the stories! And I thought that he truly loved her. In fact, he was always eager to hear her stories. Sometimes her stories shocked me, sometimes they went past me - like the time she met a 55-year-old man who she says tied her up and made her feel like the woman she really was. But usually, her stories stroked my deepest desires.
I’d often lie in my bed, all night, and fantasize. I was the one at the parties, not her. I was the one wearing the long gowns (like Sushmita’s at the Miss Universe carnival), the slit running a long way up my thigh. I was the girl who wore glitter on my shoulders and back, the girl who flirted with all the… and I’d find a handsome guy who’d take me away and make me feel a real woman.
So when Charu told me about this glitzy show, my heart leapt. I didn’t know the singer. All I knew was that he was from USA and that people from everywhere were coming to see him.
But daduji would never allow me to go. Once bua had asked if she could go to a birthday party (at night). Daduji took her to that room instead. Nobody knows what he said to her. But she never repeated the request. And she could never look into daduji’s eyes again.
But permission wasn’t my only problem. Charu said that only those above 25 were allowed - that too with an escort. I didn’t look a day older than 15, but Charu was clever, she had a plan for everything. She was going to ask one of her rich friends to bring along a friend. And she said, “Chill! The socks and make-up would fool anyone.”
Change – tears. The ceiling fan goes blurrrrr. Can’t count the number of circles each blade draws. The 40-watt bulb on the wall’s extra bright. I hug my flat-chest tightly. My nose feels cold against the flesh over my knees. My mind is filled with images of last night. Some in slow motion, but most too fast to figure out.
I was nervous by now. I could only think of getting out of house as fast as I could. I hesitated once before pulling up my long skirt around my knees, but there was no way the long boring skirt would have looked good enough for such a special evening.
I looked in the mirror and the girl staring back at me looked vaguely familiar. I felt a strange hollow feeling in my stomach – the kind of burning you feel when you know the teacher will call up to tell your parents that you’ve failed an exam. You know it will happen, you just don’t know when. But there was no time for all that.
I put on papa’s housecoat, jumped out of the bathroom window and crept out to the gate. Soon, I was out of the house. I ran all the way to Sadar Bazaar. Thankfully, Agra is dead by 10 pm. So there was hardly anyone. I reached the Bazaar in ten minutes flat. Ajay and Charu were waiting outside a big car with black windows. I was a little confident by now (besides, it was too late to back out). I quietly opened the door and sat inside.
Why I didn’t turn around when every cell in my body told me to, I will never know. What I do know is that it happened. Nobody except that man and I will ever know why it happened. Maybe it should have happened.
At least he made me feel like a woman. The one I deserve to be.
posted by Sunanda at Thursday, March 23, 2006
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