The pink scented letter

The pink scented letter

Another rainy day: in that same month of July. For the whole world around her seemed indifferent, but it was different for Jahnavi. She just passed the matriculation and alike any other college gal in Bengal, was confined between her home, college, tuitions and bagful of dreams. Along with dreams to crack JEE, retain topping the class she had a new dream – dream of an adult. But the typical middle class brought up family won’t ever allow this. She knew this fact, and so the tender adult dreams culminated in her sub-consciousness.
It was a typical Sunday afternoon and she was on her way for tuitions. When she was about to reach her coaching class, she saw a guy standing near Baranagar Kali temple. Somehow she felt that she knew this guy. Suddenly amidst a mob of 20 in the class she uttered “yeah I know him”. The silence was broken. The word “him” penetrated ears and pervaded everybody’s mind. Nobody expected this “don’t talk to me TOPPER” to utter such amidst the class. Yes she was physically there but mentally….none other than her knows about it.
Weeks passed by and every Sunday afternoon auspicious. Roads merely occupied, but her mind already preoccupied. The feeling and exchange of silent words shifted from Baranagar Kali temple to the Begbagan bus stop, just next to her home and carried all the way. Somehow her hairs on her yellowish fair skin just straightened with every sight, and this mesmerized the book worm. How come a guy follows a book worm, gal with aunty-like specs, bought by her mother, probably to make her look ugly?
One day after the class, Shankhomala handed a pink scented letter to her and said “Raktim gave me this to hand it over to you”. Raktim! How come that thin-skinny guy gives me such a letter? She had well predicted the topic of the letter. That day Apratim wasn’t there on the bus, nor was he waiting for her outside the tuitions. When she was about to board the bus, Mala said her “Apratim, our soc-cult secretary gave that to Raktim. Tear it and throw it after you read”. Jahnavi breathed an air of relief. But relief from what? Raktim or silence of Apratim. She didn’t read the letter. But her eternal excitement and patience was on test that day. She couldn’t dare to open that on the bus. The scent meant for a woman can’t be shared – she thought. With all sorts of thoughts of an adult, she felt excited and an unexplained pleasure in that pain. And said herself again and again “I’m adult Now”.
She knocked her doors with minimum effort, as if she doesn’t want her presence to be felt by anybody and be just in her thoughts. After all she thought the seed of adulthood was finally sprouting. As she entered, said “mom serve me food, I’m hungry”. She rushed into the bathroom with the letter carefully wrapped in the towel, before anybody smells it. Put on the showers and started reading it. It revealed less of Apratim’s feelings for her and more about himself. Then tore it into bits, and swallowed it with all pain – the safest place after all.
Tuition classes were extended and bunked for meetings near the Baranagar Kali temple. Until one day when her dad caught her. That afternoon she cried with her face buried in the pillow, “I know him. I know he loves me”, and tears rolled to make the pillow wet.

It would have been better if I knew him more – she said to herself and tears rolled down to make the pillow wet. The same rainy day afternoon, indifferent for others but so different for her. Neel would soon be from school and say “mom serve me food, I’m hungry”, so she replaced the pillow and went to the kitchen, so that no-one can guess anything. Soon the door bell banged and Neel entered saying “mom serve me food, I’m hungry”.
Apratim leaves for office early at 9 and returns at 10 at the night. He’s a big-shot manager at ITC, leaving me alone in our paternal home at Alipur. He loves me with his jewelry, sarees, salary, weekend dinner or official parties and what he says “Our child, our only son”. All would end up with love making at night. I know he feels my boredom and so drops me to plazas. But still I miss something. After all I can’t expect anything more of him. He’s busy but still takes out time for me, but only at night.
The nine pm soaps are over now and here he rings. He would handover his briefcase as usual and asks “Is Neel asleep?” And after the obvious reply “yes”, drags me close to him. I would untie his tie and say “you fresh up. Have a bath, then”. This is a regular routine with minor variations. When every thing’s up, it’s bedtime affairs.
Every time I enter the bedroom at night it growl at me saying

“Every house has a door,
This leads to a room, the bedroom.
Every bedroom has a bed,
And in every bed there’s a man and a woman.
Every night on it ends up with
Pain and agony of a woman
And pleasures of a man.
This is a gift to met,
This is a curse to me,
And this is my life”

He’s already there, staring at me, as if to pounce on me with love. Bastard!!! And there he goes. With his lovely cute smile, he pulled me towards him, and I replied with a smile-let me first close the door. I don’t know how I smiled, but I did. As I closed the door, switch on the red night lamp, he takes out a box of chocolates. Drags me again, put a piece on my mouth and start sharing it right from my mouth – and it goes.
But I suddenly asked him “Is the Baranagar Kali Temple still there?” He lifted his face from my breasts, looking straight on my eyes, said “why, what’s so special about Baranagar Kali Temple”. His tone was mocking me. And I said “No, nothing, just like that”.


DISCLAIMER: All characters are fictious, and any resemblance to actual events is entirely coincidental.