Long For

Amrita and Palash

"Don't exceed the speed over 60," That was my father's advice when he gave me his motorbike, my last year of studies were going on and soon after I had to do a job, so he decided to teach me the bike soon before it becomes my necessity, we lived in a small house, we didn’t had much of the resource yet my Dad decided to spend half of his income into my studies, without my parents being supportive I couldn’t even have dream to be a writer, they made me what I am today.

“You went up, you don’t have to travel on such a high speed, Palash!” my Dad said and got down from the bike. “You warmbloods don’t understand the meaning of discipline,”

Though he became a bit angry with me for driving fast, he taught me riding the bike very well and in few weeks I was travelling along my village, buying the vegetable and fruits for my Mom, still I had to go walking to the college as my father had to take the bike to office, the bike was given to him by the office because my father had got to the office late for coming with a cycle, “They love my work, otherwise they would have transferred me, not given me a bike,” my dad said when the he brought the bike home for the first time, as a middle class people we treated the bike as our family member, my father even bought a cot just to sleep at the doorsteps of the house so nobody could steal the bike, as of in our region as such only my father owned it, others were in cycle or couldn’t even afford a cycle.

One day while travelling through the streets with the bike, seeing the farms, people working over there, me with perfectly combed hair by applying oil, jeans pant till my belly and a blue color shirt in, I saw a girl, same of my age I thought, wearing a beautiful yellow colour saree, with a red tikli on her forehead, open hair and was holding a bag, she was looking for something, I stopped and as a gentleman asked if I could help her, she was quick to refuse the proposal, though as I looked at the gorgeous face I felt something inside, some butterflies in my stomach, but I could not force somebody it were my ethics so I kicked and the bike started.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I am going to Belopur,” I said.

She went into some thoughts for a second and then said “Will you drop me? I can’t find any rickshaw over here for the past half and hour,”

“I will be happy to do so,” I said. She sat down and kept the bag on her lap.

“You can keep your hand on my shoulder, there can be jerks ahead,” I said, without looking at her.

“I don’t mind the jerks, I mind those people around, I am good, go on,” she said, but as I just got into speed 20, there was a jerk as I changed the gear, she kept her hand on my shoulder after hesitation. It was a beautiful experience for me. I dropped by her house, and people were fast to question “Who is this guy? You came here with a stranger boy, Amrita?” and even she was quick to give a befitting reply which I till date hate the most and that was “He is my brother, Peshi, a cousin brother, came to Mainkpur, his posting is in Bombay, he comes here some of the times,” the reply was perfect to shut the people mouth as they couldn’t say anything more as of they thought I was her brother and a brother-sister relation cannot be doubted. I left before they could ask me a question but her beautiful face wandered in my mind, while smiling my heart out I reached back home. The abstract images of her in my mind went on the whole day, was I feeling love? I passed by the same road again and again, taking frequent breaks, I couldn't even catch a glimpse of her for once, after a point of time my father even told me to drive the bike less as the petrol price was hiking up. That was the end of me going to random rides, now the bike was only used for work purposes.

After my studies were over, now I had to find for a job, to earn money, I had eventually forgot my passion for writing in all of this, I wanted few days to relax and think of some story to write, first of all I wanted a job I wanted a job to write for the news column, if not I would have tried something else. For the holiday I decided to go to my grandparents old house in Ulaspur, my grandparent had a house in west Bengal and one in Dhaka which we lived in, though they passed away early before I even turned four years old, I remember seeing their smile when my parents had brought me to meet them in Ulaspur. I took the bus which came over to our village only once in a day, I said goodbye to my parents and climbed up. The next stop was at Belopur, I had least expected anything this time, I was trying to forget her by all means, I had made up my mind that she was a beautiful girl, but she wasn't meant for you. As the bus stopped I got up to have a glass of water from the nearby shop, it was a lemonade and a nira shop. I requested him for a glass of water but he suggested that I should have a lemonade, it will be more refreshing to me. It had a difference of 50 paise so I thought I could spend this much here. I had my lemon juice, while looking at the passengers getting up in the bus, that was the time I saw her again, in a white and red colour sari, with the same red bindi on her forehead, this time it was a bit small, and as she smiled I saw the dimple, she looked around as if she was searching for somebody, I waved my hand, she signalled me to come to her, it wasn't any romantic signal it was a angry one.