The Waves Whisper ✓

4 | stain of shame

1

𓂃𓊝𓂃

1970

Sometimes I get these memory flashbacks, like those you get when you are about to die. I got one that morning while getting ready for school.

I was sitting on my Maa's (Mom's) lap under a banyan tree in our village. She was reading me a story from an old, torn storybook while gently stroking my hair. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to recall her face, but I did remember her touch, her scent, and her bright red saree. There was no trace of the banyan to be found when I last visited the village. The villagers cut down the banyan tree in the winter of 1984.

"What are you daydreaming about, girl?" My stepmother asked and pulled the red ribbon from my pigtails. She had a wooden spoon in her right hand, with which she stirred the curry. A drop of daal fell onto the floor. I feared she might slap me with it. Going to school with turmeric-stained clothes felt like a nightmare. I knew I would be made fun of. The people in the neighbourhood looked a lot wealthier than the people in my village. I hated moving to Jaisalmer, my stepmother's place. But I was left with no choice after my father's passing. She didn't want to take me and my elder brother. But she did. May be out of sympathy, or maybe she was afraid of the bad image she might create after abandoning her husband's kids.

"You spend the whole day in front of this mirror while I do the chores and do different jobs so that you can go to school." She shouted. The compulsory education of me and my brother until the age of 16 was the only thing my father was adamant about.

"Kako sasa ( father) saved sufficient funds for my education. Certainly, he gave it to you. I retorted.

"Are you accusing me of theft, girl?" She smacked me on the shoulder with the ladle.

"Your father has money set aside for your schooling, but what about my children? Who's going to provide for them? You will be married off to someone soon. Additionally, your schooling will have no bearing on your Sasuraal. (In-law house)" Her words poked at my heart like sewing needles. I was aware marriage would be my fate, like every other girl my age. But there were only a few girls my age left unmarried. Everyone else was married off early. I hated the idea of getting married off, like livestock being sold to a new owner. But eventually, I started to like the idea of marriage in the corner of my heart. I thought marriage might help me escape this hell.

"Go. Help Bela and Hema get ready." I ran before I received another smack.

Bela and Hema were both twelve years old when I was sixteen. We never got along, even though I am their half-sister. They didn't detest me; we simply didn't talk much. They did their thing, and I did mine. We walked to school together. They always walked ahead of me, plucking flowers and leaves from the plants on the side of the road, sometimes they ran. On that day, I met a girl my age while walking to school. She had lovely almond-shaped eyes, skin that was slightly yellow, and very dry brown hair. She introduced herself as Khushi.

"I've never seen you around here." Khushi said clutching her books tightly to her chest.

"I recently relocated here. along with my stepmom. She is a local."

"And your father? What is he doing?"

"He was a teacher."

"Was?"

"He passed."

"That's sad. I'm sorry." Khushi's almond-shaped eyes drooped.

Khushi was from a relatively better family than mine. Her father worked as a postmaster. She had a brother who worked for the Indian Railways in Kolkata. We both became inseparable in a very short time. When we reached school, I went straight to the Headmaster to report on my first day at school. In comparison to my previous school, this one was in considerably better shape. They had more buildings and classrooms. Fewer classes were held under the trees. My classroom had benches and desks, and on the wall there was a world map and a multiplication table. Khushi and I sat at the back, where the other four female students were already seated. Before the teacher got there, I went up to them and introduced myself. The first period was Hindi, which was taught by the Headmaster. A boy showed up at the doorstep about five minutes into the class.

"Do I need to send a chariot to bring you here on time?" The whole class erupted into laughter at the teacher's question.

"Sorry sir." The guy said in a feeble voice with a bowed head.

"Get in! Keep in mind that you will spend the rest of the day outside if you arrive late to my courses once more."

The boy walked into the class and sat in the third row. After five more minutes, another boy appeared. I assumed the teacher would be indignant. But to my shock, he smiled at the boy.

"Come in." He said and the boy walked to the front seat.

"Did you encounter any difficulties en route here? You're later than usual." The teacher asked.

"No. I woke up late." He replied. The nerve to arrive late to school on the first day!

The whole class was murmuring to each other while the teacher and the boy were conversing.

"Why'd he get an excuse for coming late?" I asked Khushi.

"What'd you say? I couldn't hear you."

"He wasn't reprimanded for arriving late, but the other boy was."

"It's too loud." Khushi leaned closer to hear what I was saying.

"The second boy was excused for coming late while the first one wasn't." This is unfair!" I spoke a little louder to help her comprehend what I was saying. And at that exact moment, the whole class stopped talking. I knew everyone had heard it as their heads turned towards me, including the boy I was referring to. He gave me a direct, in-your-face stare with his dark eyes. I noticed how he had luscious lashes, tremendously dark curls, and a dimple on the left cheek.

"You've got a question, Roopali?" The teacher asked me. By that time, every drop of blood had drained from my face.

"You need to stand up." Khushi murmured beside me. I did so accordingly.

"No, sir." I messed up. There was no coming back from that.

"You don't need to start off by making problems. You get it?"

"Yes, sir." I mustered up all my energy to form words with my dried lips.

"Sit down." He said and went back to teaching.

The first thing I noticed after sitting down was how the girls were giving me death stares as if I ate their lunch and lied about it.

"Why are they giving me this look?" I asked Khushi.

"They revere Apoorva. He's like their mini Sashi Kapoor."

"Oh no! Now they'll despise me forever, right?"

"Probably yes."

Like that, my first day at school quickly descended into chaos. But little did I know that the silly mistake I made that day would affect everything in my life!

...

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