The Burnt Letter

She skipped her school that morning too and headed straight to the Pataleshwar temple on the outskirts of the little town she lived. Her mom had been suspecting her for some time now and her absent marks on the attendance log was worrying her teachers but nothing seemed to unfaze her temptation to meet him everyday behind the temple. Yes! She was in love, unconditionally.

She fastened her steps as she was late, the sun was way over the woods by then and she didn’t have watch to check the time but he had and that’s why he always reached on time; he didn’t like to wait and she didn’t like to argue with him. Alas! She couldn’t make it, she saw his cycle outside the temple and almost like a stimulus, she broke into a jog.

He saw her coming but turned away to ignore her, he was miffed off her habit of coming late all the time. She was aware of that very well and also knew how to win him back. She didn’t say a word and sat next to him on the bench under the giant banyan tree. She glanced at him; he was still not looking at her. She took out a guava out of her bag and tossed it in air.

‘You want it.’ She offered.

He shook his head in denial.

‘Ok then! Your wish.’ She took a bite. ‘It’s really awesome; I have never eaten such a sweet fruit.’ She teased him, he loved guavas.

She had a big guava tree at her backyard and every day, he would break into her garden with his friends to steal the fruits. That’s how they had known each other and gradually, fallen for each other. He was seventeen and she was fifteen but from social point of view the gap between them was too large. He was the son of the Zamindar, born in riches and groomed in discipline; she grew in adversity and was the daughter of a Sajori, one who dresses up the bride on the wedding. But their love knew no such boundaries. It was innocent and inane; pure and intense just like them.

‘You don’t love me.’ He said abruptly and that hit her.

‘Never say that again.’ Her voice choked. ‘I never loved anyone more than you.’ Her eyes had tsunamis in them.

Seeing her sob like that was the last thing he wanted to happen, it wasn’t like that it hurt him but the fact that it was very hard to stop if she started crying and then she would count on everything that she did for him and yet he had to say such a lame statement. Her friends had always insisted that rich people don’t have a heart and he was just playing around. They sometimes even say that he met her everyday so that she could bring him her garden’s guava but she never paid heed. Her Mom had beaten her up so many times for bunking school. She fasted every Monday for his good health. How could he even think of something like that? She thought and she burst in tears.

‘I’m sorry.’ He hugged her tightly. ‘I didn’t mean it. I love you.’ He couldn’t bear the torment anymore.

‘Promise me you won’t say such thing again.’ She sniffed on his chest.

‘I promise.’ He smiled looking into her and went on to kiss her forehead.

‘Ok now! Give me the fruit.’ He snatched the guava from her hands.

‘No. No. Not that one.’ She resisted.

‘Why not?’

‘I’ve eaten it.’

‘So?’

‘Don’t you know that’s disrespectful?’

‘It doesn’t matters. We are one.’

‘Still.’

‘Forget it! I brought something for you.’ He took out a title box from his pocket.

‘What’s this?’ She inquired.

He opened it. ‘It’s for you.’

‘Hey! That’s beautiful maang tikka.’ She said excitedly as he placed it on her palm.

‘You know what it is?’

‘Of course, I know. I’m daughter of a sajori.’

‘Don’t say like that.’

‘Oh! Stupid! I mean I have seen such things when I had accompanied Ma to the big weddings. Whose it is?’

‘My Grandma’s!’

‘You stole it.’ She agitated.

‘Na baba! She had given me when she died. She had told me to give it my wife.’ He said.

There was a moment of silence after that. She was so happy that she couldn’t express it in words. She felt blessed not for that dead but precious ornament but the way he said that it was for his wife had turned her world upside down. Might be she was too young but every morning she woke up with just one wish and that day it seemed to be granted. She blinked back her tears and kept staring at him; she was deeply touched by his gesture.

‘I love you.’ She could just utter that.

‘Only that? You won’t give me anything in return.’

She quickly took out the guavas, she had brought for him.

‘Guavas for such a prized thing, that’s not fair.’

‘What you want? I can’t give you anything that expensive.’ She frowned.

‘Oh Girl! You’re so sentimental. I just want a kiss in return.’

She smiled and pecked his cheeks.

‘This won’t do today. Close your eyes.’ He said.

His heartbeat raced as he brought his face closer to her. He could now feel the warmth of her breath. If she felt goose bumps waiting for the next surprise, he was anxious too to go ahead with it, first kiss is always special. He first pecked her lips, might be she had reckoned what was to come but she didn’t protest, she felt butterflies in her stomach. In next moment, she could feel his mouth over hers. He had read about it in many books and had imagined the perfect kiss in his mind a million times and trust me, he wasn’t naïve at all. He smooched her passionately and only stopped when they ran out of breath.

 He was very pleased by his feat and wanted to repeat it but she seemed shocked and he knew why.

‘Don’t tell me now that it was disrespectful too.’

‘No. It wasn’t. I would rather say, it was amazing.’

                                                      ****

Like every love saga, this one too hit its road block soon when someone saw them together and informed his father. A curfew was imposed on him after that and he was not allowed outside his room even. If that was not enough, his father insulted her mother at the bazaar. Though her mother had always loved and supported her daughter but this time she was harsh. She banned her daughter from going school to put end to growing steps towards modernity. Humans are social animal and they should be bounded to the society laws. She was very much aware of the fact that this relationship has no future; a daughter of a sajori would never be accepted at a zamindar’s house. Rich and poor can never unite.

She cried all the time and he stopped eating but nothing seemed to touch the radical thinking of their parents. They were punished to suffer till their love died. But their love was not that weak to fade so easily, they were brave hearts and were courageous enough to raze all the barriers between them and get together. They planned to elope to a far city called Calcutta.

He sent her message through his trusted maid to wait for him at the ghat early in the morning, the very next day after the full moon. She didn’t oppose nor did she ask any question, she just trusted him with her life. Though, she felt bad for her mother but she persuaded herself that she would soon return once things down here settle down. That night she slept hugging her mother but could she just rest down in peace, the excitement of her life kept her counting the stars all night and as the stars started to disappear, she knew the time was coming. It was the longest night of her life; she just waited with thirsty eyes for the next morning.

Next morning, she eloped from the house before her mother woke up in the morning. She kept a few of her sari’s in a jhola and left after covering her face with a shawl. She reached the ghat at sharp four in the morning when there were just a few people around; she wrapped her shawl tighter this time feeling very insecure, she covered her mouth with the shawl in such a manner that only her eyes were visible. The eyes that searched for him, all over the place, she was losing out on patience and kept standing at one firm place where her eyes frantically searched just for him. By noon, a hundred of ferries had passed by but he was nowhere, the ghat was filled with people, the people who glared at her with eyes full of suspicion, people who feasted their eyes on her. But she was sure about his coming, she just waited. There was still no trace of him, it was evening now, she shivered in the cold but didn’t even budge an inch, her eyes still waited for his arrival. She waited there till the night; the whole place grew dark and scarier. Suddenly, she felt a hand over her shoulder, she turned immediately with eyes filled with happiness, she thought that it would be him but as soon as she turned, her excitement turned into disappointment. It was the old Majhi.

‘What happened, beti? Where have you come from? And who are you waiting for? It’s late now, you must return home.’

Tears trickled down her cheeks and she said nothing, she was still not able to believe that he didn’t turn up. She felt pathetic but her eyes were still drenched with hope. She made heavy steps back home thinking that there might be some problem on his side otherwise he would have been there with her and they would have eloped to Calcutta.

The moment she entered her home, she received several slaps from her mother and was not even given the food that night.  That night she cried the most, not just because of not getting food or by not meeting him at the ghat but because she knew that something would be wrong at his side otherwise he would have never made her wait at the ghat, considering the fact that he had always been punctual but not even for once, she doubted on her love and then another message came to her next day, this time in form of a letter.

Laboni,

I know what you thinking, I know you would be crying for I couldn’t make it to the station but it was just because of my father. I wanted to come, in fact, I almost left the home with my bag but then Father caught me and by force, locked me inside the home. Laboni, they are sending me to British country to study, far away from you. But trust me my love, we would remain with each other, just trust my love and wait for me. I will return to you. I will be a big man then; nobody would ever be able to snatch you from me. Just trust on my love and wait. I will miss you with every breath that I will take.

Yours,

Anuraag.

After reading the letter, she pressed the letter against her heart and cried herself to sleep. She wanted to go to him and tell him that she would wait but still she couldn’t do that. With each passing day, her misery grew; she fought with her mother who was trying to get her married. It seemed as if she just lived to see him. She counted days, she shed those million tears, her only comfort was to think of him, she used to imagine herself as his bride, how she will decorate her every part of skin on their wedding day, the maang tikka that he gifted her would be placed right in the center of her head with loose strands falling over at the sides, she used to dream a life with him, a happy life.

***

Six years seemed like six hundred years but soon, even they passed.

Soon, she got some news about his arrival, she just went mad with happiness and rushed with her aanchal rubbing against the floor, she didn’t even care enough to wear anything to protect her feet and soon she reached near his Haveli. She waited outside the gate, her heart was pounding heavily after reaching there, she was dying to get a glimpse of him, she wanted to see how he looked now, she wanted to tell him how she cried herself to sleep every night that he was away. This day was something she was waiting for six long years. Now her feet were bleeding because of the long way filled with sharp stones but she didn’t even care enough to wipe it off.

But the moment she saw a blue motor car coming near the Haveli, her heart raced even faster. She saw him taking a step out of the car, he just looked like one of those English Saheb, she started running towards him and was about to shout his name but suddenly, she saw a fair hand holding his hand and soon a girl stepped out of that Motor car. A wave of helplessness overpowered all her expressions. She was helpless now.

“Ma, this is Pratima, your Bouma,” He said to her mother while Pratima touched her feet.

It seemed that her heart was crushed mercilessly by everyone who was present there. While everyone else entered the Haveli, she just stood there with not even a tear trickling down from her eyes; she had no reason to live now. She was shattered. She was completely devastated. This is what the wait of six long years gifted her.

As soon as she reached home, she locked herself in her home and cried her heart out, she was about to end her life when Radha knocked her door, ‘Laboni, open the door. There is a wedding at Chatterji’s home tomorrow. Would you come with me to decorate the bride?’

Hearing this, her heart missed a beat, the place where she wanted to go as a bride, she would now go there as a Sajori.  She was numb till evening until her mother came and shook her from her numbness.

‘You don’t have to go anywhere. Forget everything. You need to move on.’ 

She cried and hugged her daughter. She could feel her pain.

‘No. Ma, I have to go. I had to face it, the reality.’

‘Why you want put yourself into all this?’ he mother asked with tears flooding her eyes.

‘Because in these six years, there was just one dream that gave me happiness and that was to decorate myself as his bride. Even though I could not be his bride but still I would live my dream by decorating his bride.’ She said with her eyes focused on the floor.

‘Laboni, come back to your senses. Don’t you know how much it would hurt you by seeing him getting married to someone else?’ he mother looked at her and asked.

‘Who said that love never hurts? But I need to know how much.’  Her mother knew that her daughter wouldn’t stop. She didn’t persuade her further, for the whole night she sat still on the floor without budging an inch.

And the next morning, she got herself dressed in a white sari with red border, applied a bindi on her forehead and took along all the things that were required to decorate the bride and reached the Zamindar’s house. The house was exactly same as she imagined it, white marbles, huge chandelier; big antique vases at every corner, the Haveli had a royal appeal in itself, everything in that Haveli screamed for its royal nature. She felt so small and insignificant in front of all that glitz and recalled her humble origins and as she was busy in that self pity, her eyes caught the sight of him.

The world seemed to have come to end as they stood face to face but there was sore silence between them. They looked into each other’s eyes, she wanted all the answers to her questions, she wanted the justification for the betrayal, she the reason for thrashing her dreams. She didn’t need words to convey all that but anyway; he had no answer only a feeble guilt in his eyes. He looked down in shame; he had neither guts nor the dignity to face her.

‘Where is the bride?’ She asked boldly. He still couldn’t utter a word and brashly pointed towards a room. She walked ahead leaving him behind, remorseful.

She saw the bride and with a smile she went on with her job, she traced the alta on her feet exactly the way she wanted for herself. She drew the best floristic designs with chandan on her cheeks and forehead. She placed flowers in her hair after making pleats and letting a few strands fall loose and finally the topor on her head was so much dazzling, exactly like her own wishes to dress up on the day of her wedding. While decorating the bride, all the memories of her past came to haunt her, she even shed a few tears but wiped them off before the bride could notice them and finally when the bride was ready.

‘I couldn’t be more beautiful than this.’ The bride was amazed to see her in the mirror.

‘Wait! It’s still not done yet.’ She said. She took the maang tikka, she treasured all the years and neatly place on her head.

‘It isn’t mine, I guess.’ the bride said looking in the mirror.

‘No, Anuraag babu gave it to me while I was coming. It’s his gift for you.’ She said controlling her tears.

The bride blushed looking at herself. She was indeed looking the most beautiful bride that night.

‘Thank you for all this. You don’t know how much I am pleased.’

‘It’s nothing Memsahab. It’s my job.’

‘Oh yes! I will pay you big. Wait! I’m coming.’ The bride went outside the room to get the prize for Sajori but when she returned there was no one.

She ran on her way to home, stopping after intervals to cry out her heart. And as soon as she reached home, she locked her inside her room. Her Mother wanted to intervene but she said she wants to spend some time alone. She took out the letter from the wooden box and re read it for the last time.

And a fat drop of tear escaped her eye and fell over the letter. She went to the kitchen where her mother stored grains and took out all the camphor pills from it which her mother kept to keep insects away and then she placed the letter on the fireplace and lit the fire below it. On one side it was the destruction of all her hopes, dreams and love along with the letter and on the other hand it was the wedding of Anuraag, a beginning of his new life.

Next morning, she didn't open her door even after repeatedly calling. And when her mother lost patience, she called in the neighbors who broke in the door, only to find a dead girl lying on the floor and a burnt letter beside her.