Moyurakhkhi's Cigarettes

38| Batasha Murali

April 14th, Day 318 of 365

My red glass bangles caught summer light and shone. They clinked against each other as I walked. I pictured a lonely artisan at work, toiling on in the summer heat. Shaping each ring of glass with care, not knowing who will wander the streets selling them, nor whose hands will wear them.

I walked along the brick road that led to our school gate. Red and white festoons decorated the gate, along with a large banner that read Shubho Noboborsho - the new year greeting. At 11 am, the new year celebration at our school was in full swing, with food stalls and handicraft stalls and whatnot. There was even a nagordola, a manually operated ride that's much like a Ferris wheel, except that it spins dangerously fast and has no safety system. Children fall out? We don't care. Got no will to live? Fear not, we'll bring you close enough to death.

Boys in punjabi and girls in shari roamed the campus, an array of red and white.

I too wore a beautiful red cotton saree with an ornate orange lining I dug out from Ma's almira. It matched the colour of my lips. I was wearing red lips after a long time.

I found Togor at the gate, under a tree laden with white bokul flowers.

He put his hand over his chest as he approached me. "Praise to Who created you."

That put a smile on my face. "You look okay yourself," I joked. He really did. Unlike his usual clothes, the white punjabi fitted him closely. Bonus points for the rolled-up sleeves.

Smugness bathed me as I held his arm and walked across the school field, with curious glances raining down upon us. I led him to the cafeteria table where Fizz, Nusaiba, Michael and Sahal were waiting for us.

The five of us had been hanging out more and more over the last two months. We'd help each other with the prep, and all of us had a solid foundation for the next week's interview. Sahal and I were civil now. Nusaiba was actually pretty nice, and Michael wasn't as much of a nerd as I thought.

After they got introduced to each other, we set out to explore the fairground. I bought traditional sweets like murali and batasha, and we ate ice cream lollies to cool our heads as the sun rose above our heads. Sahal dragged us to the nagordola, too.

Let me tell you something, the struggle of getting on a nagordola while wearing a shari is impossible to capture in words. Togor tried his best to help, though. We six crammed into a booth.

The two handlers heaved the nagordola into motion. We started going up. My blouse had a boat-shaped neck that exposed my shoulders, upon which Togor's hand now rested. Discomfort crept up my skin.

I gently lowered his arm, putting it down on his thigh.

The most fun part is when the nagordola goes downwards, it's scary and it creates a ticklish sensation in your stomach. It eventually started spinning very fast, and we laughed and screamed.

After that, we sat down under a tree in the field. Michael offered to let each of us try his new vape.- Togor and Fizz didn't even bat an eyelash, Nusaiba could tolerate it. I coughed a little when it hit the back of my throat, stinging.

Sahal had it the worst. The smoke burned his throat and made him shake with coughs. While we were busy cackling, Nusaiba massaged his back until his lungs stopped freaking out, and for some reason, I didn't like it.

Nusaiba was into him, it was obvious. But the curious thing was I never once in the last two months saw him flirting back. He wasn't even as friendly as he used to be.