This story gives a peek through the curtains to the pre-Indepence era in India.
A Story Vintage romance. Where sometimes love was forbidden or was accepted. A story of young girl who gets tangled up between the threads of Love and Desire. Sharmila C...
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It had been weeks since Bhaskar moved in. A week since little talks had begun. Bhaskar would always be caught off guard whenever he would starting admiring the girl with fine woven braids that reach her mid thigh. The girl would seldom wear a fancy Saaree and mostly be in her cotton light Saaree.
Sharmila knew and understood very well the actions and of attraction from Bhaskar. His little efforts to start a conversation. His little ways of slipping in front of her for acknowledgement.
It was just a another day for Bhaskar to return back to his peaceful place where he could bring his imagination to words. But at the door step as he opened the door, he saw the postman his khaki uniform. 'Letters for Mr. Chatterjee and Sharmila Chatterjee.' Stated the postman. Bhaskar willingly took the letter and thanked the postman. As he closed the door and turned around there she was standing like ghost ready to scare Bhaskar.
For second there, Bhaskar startled. 'Papa, has gone out to meet his friend. I'll be taking his letters.' Stated Sharmila. Being submissive, Bhaskar handed over letters. 'There is one for you too.' Said Bhaskar. Sharmila passed a smile and started to search for her's. 'Ah! It's from him.' Claimed Sharmila as kept the other letter on the top of the shoe rack and started opening her letter. 'Him?' Asked Bhaskar curiously. 'Oh, nothing. It a letter from that boy who I met in Darjeeling. He always write poems to me.' Answered Sharmila.
This turned Bhaskar quite off. There was this sudden spark of aggression or maybe jealousy. Was he jealous. Maybe. 'Right, I've to go. See you in the evening.' Said Bhaskar as he opened the door and left. All Sharmila could do was say bye and wave.
The entire day Sharmila spent doing her chores studing the material her father gave and reading the stacks of poems sent by the admirer.
Late in the evening when Bhaskar and Mr. Chatterjee returned home. Chatterjee went the study room while bhaskar went in his room. Though Mr. Chatterjee requested for a cup of chai. Bhaskar protested and went away. Little did he know sharmila was inside dusting of the spider webs and dust.
'If I have the right to ask you a question, may I?' Asked bhaskar. Sharmila reluctantly turned and looked at him with a smile. 'Be my guest.' 'Do you always wonder around like a ghost and end up in any room of the house?' 'It is my house.' 'I believe this is my room.' 'A room of my house.' 'A room which your father gave.' 'Fair point.' Said sharmila as she shrugged her shoulders. Bhaskar raised his brow at the young beauty who stood there with a broom.
'If I may ask again a question. ' Requested Bhaskar. 'I love the question and answer game with you. Go on.' Said Sharmila as she raised her brow. 'The boy you met in Darjeeling. Tell me more about him. I'm curious.' Stated Bhaskar as he sat on the well cleaned sheets of bed.
Sharmila sat right beside him. She could feel he didn't want hear the story but yet had a curiosity. She knew very well what he was feeling and she loved it. Pulling her legs up on the bed, she sat facing Bhaskar. As for bhaskar, His heart was banging against his chest. His breaths weren't in sync. How could he not be in a irrational state. He was inches away from the most beautiful he ever witnessed who was going to tell him about her admirer.
'Well, it was a little trip papa planned for us three. He started to feel that he was drifting away from us before the age. So a little trip wouldn't hurt anyone, Would it? We stayed at one of papa's friend's vacant cottage. Wasn't much appealing but yet very warm. Everyday we would go somewhere or another. But this one evening, I happend to spot a boy with his younger sibling. He wasn't playing but doing the least. Stiching a doll, Making a temporary toy. All that. He saw me I saw him. I tried get away from him but I couldn't. Maybe I was curious. After that evening I started seeing him more often then I expected. We start to talk to an other till we knew it wasn't just friendship. He never touched me. But I could feel his fingers on my soul. I knew we were close to the end. So, I started giving up and let it go. Or I'd say, I was falling out of love. Although he doesn't let it go. So I get his poetries.' Completed Sharmila.
Bhaskar on the other hand just listened to words. A spark of jealousy and envy was ignited within him. 'Do you ever feel like you're at the end of the line. And now there is no hope of walking further and knowing what's next. But the person next to you thinks differently?' Asked Shamila with a low and disheartened voice. 'I don't know about the end of line. But I can see the start of a new line and I'm pretty sure my partner can see too.' Confessed Bhaskar.
Sharmila locked her gaze filled astonishment with the ones that screamed out absolute pure attraction and love. 'Well, I'm pretty sure she has some obstacles in her way that's blocking her veiw.' Claimed Shamila.
Sharmila stood up from the bed, brushed her crumpled Saaree and wished Bhaskar a good night.
There was a sudden warmth around Sharmila as she left her room. Her lips curled up into a subtle smile which our dear Bhaskar couldn't notice. As Sharmila left the room. Bhaskar was alone. Out of the blue, he heard the pleasent sound of the rain. He laid on the bed as he slowly unbuttoned his slightly crumpled shirt. There was a sudden urge to look out the window that was sealed with wooden doors. He rolled up his sleeve around his huge arms and walked towards the window. His perfectly tucked shirt was now out.
Bhaskar removed his glasses and set them on the table aside, opened the window only to sight the branches bathing in the rain, The dark sky above and well lit house from afar. He leaned on the window to relax as the petrichor entered his nose and eased his nerves.
As he tilted his head to the right, he saw his infatuation. Leaning against the floral balcony, opening her hand out to the rain and letting her soft petal like palms be kissed by the nector from above.
Bhaskar watched her till she could recognise his existence on her left. Their orbs met one another. There were words in the eyes but the lips were sealed shut. No one uttered anything. Just pure comfortable silence in one another's eyes.
_________________A/N_________________ Hey everyone, I hope you're enjoying TNM so far. Please let me know any Ideas in the comments. Yeah, Happy reading. ILY💞💞
