Romantic Ranchi

{ I had written this short story for the contest 'Romantic Ranchi'. The subject was the same as it is evident from the topic title. Word limit was 1000 words. Needless to say, I didn't win it. :( . So, I have decided to force it upon you people. :P }

It was a lazy afternoon class of chemistry. The organic reactions written on the blackboard were looking like a Picasso painting. In such dull periods, the human mind becomes the most creative. I decided to draw a cartoon of my chemistry teacher on the desk. I searched for space; the desk was scribbled at most places. But, there was something new written on the desk. “F/17, boring classes L”. I was excited. I wrote back, “M/17, totally booored! Eco, science, u?”     

For the online-chat-illiterate junta, ‘F/17’ means ‘Female, 17 years’. And this message written on the desk was from some girl from the morning session of my school. DAV Shyamali, Ranchi held classes in two sessions and I was a student of the afternoon session in science section with economics as my chosen subject.

Thus started my story of ‘desk-dating’. Every day we left a message on the desk for each other. I wanted to meet her in person and the filled up space of the desk came as a good excuse. “No more space. Can we meet? At 12 at gate”. It was a big step. I dreamt of being run over by a train at night. Next day I went straight into my class and hugged my benchmate as soon as I saw, “yes J tomorrow”.

For the first time in my life, I pressed my school dress. I re-knotted my tie after seven months and polished my shoe after a month. I cleaned my spectacles too. I started earlier to the school and reached 11:30 sharp at the school gate. For half an hour and five minutes more, it felt like I was the heaviest thing on the planet earth. She came at 12:05 pm. I had wondered earlier how I would recognize her. It was not hard. Only two people had completely pale faces at school gate and we knew.    

“Hi”, I murmured. My God! She was beautiful. She shied a little, smiled a little and said in the sweetest voice I had ever heard, “Hi”. I felt like the lightest thing on the planet earth.

We decided to walk through the Shyamali colony. She said she would bunk her two tuitions. I would have eaten raw grass to be with this girl! I said I would bunk my school. We walked side by side, but no hand in hand as I had always dreamt. All the trees planted alongside the road made the February sun even more pleasant. We talked about classes, school and tuitions. I proposed to go to Church complex. She agreed with her that intoxicating little smile. We walked unto AG more.

We got into a vikram, a type of 6-seater. The bumpy and noisy ride of vikram and she sitting beside me felt like heavens. We didn’t talk in vikram, due to noise or due to other people staring at us, or due to both, I didn’t know. We alighted at Kadru more. From there, we walked upto Church complex. I told her a story of my childhood. Myself and my friends used to steal chickens from neighborhood and kept them in a diwali’s gharonda. I told her how we got caught and thrashed. She laughed and laughed.

We spent some time in Church complex. She told me about her mischief in childhood. We were bonding. With afternoon dying, she started to feel hungry. I suggested we should eat chowmein at firayalal chowk. With sixty four rupees in pocket, I had no other choice also. We took a rickshaw. The congested road and feel of a girl sitting beside on a slow moving rickshaw made those moments memorable.

When we got down at firayalal, I took out money to pay to the rickshaw wala. Suddenly, she caught hold of my hand and said she will pay. Her touch had a paralyzing effect on my body. I couldn’t do more than just shyly nodding. She paid the money and again the same mesmerizing little smile.

We ate vegetable chowmein, 15 rupees a plate. The crowded firayalal chowk, the smell of chowmein being fried, a beautiful girl eating in front of me, life wasn’t more fulfilling ever before.  

We then walked upto Gopal complex to enquire about some test series. In between, we talked about taste of chowmein and how we both loved to cook Chinese food. I asked her to take the spiral staircase outside the Gopal complex to reach upper floor. She was reluctant to climb it. I took her hand and pulled her gently onto the stairs. She obliged and again the same engrossing little smile.

She kept her palm pressed against mine. I did the same. Now, we were walking hand in hand as I had always dreamt. We reached the top floor of the complex and looked out at the dimming evening sky. The February cold air was still. After we had held hands, we hadn’t talked. Silence between us and in the empty corridors of Gopal complex top floor was so resounding in our pounding hearts. Unexpectedly, she hugged me. I ran my fingers in her hairs.

We promised each other a lot of things that day.  Like any other teenage promise, they were broken one by one in months to come. Even today when I sit anywhere, I look at the table for any signs. Because, you never know.