Scrawls and Scribbles.

REVATHY MENON
XII A

You look at my words,
And seeing them in verse,
You ask me why I write, why
I must fill the world with more
Emotion than it can process, and
Burden  it with yet more cryptic
Words and metaphors that
(Maybe) no one understands. Why,
Oh why, must I put out my fickle beliefs
And whimsical thoughts, using my
Freedom of expression, just for
Others to ignore, or misunderstand,
Or worse- misquote? You think
I have a wound to heal, and cuts
That bleed, and that's why I turn
To paper and ink.
But how do I explain that writing
Is not just cathartic? How do I
Explain to you that writing, to me,
Is not about the echoes of my words
In unknown minds and distant
Hearts? That it is more about
The subtle echoes of my random
Expressions in the scrawl of
My hand, and the scribbles in ink?
And that I have an unexplainable
Belief that the paper I
Scribble on, and the ink I
Scrawl with, somehow, just
Somehow, understand and
Comprehend my incoherent
Words and hidden emotions
That I myself fail
To understand.
 

Innocent Faces, Twisted Minds

SREYASHI DEY
CLASS 12 SECTION C


In Russia lives a nine-year-old girl called Kristina Pimenova who has been
labelled 'the youngest supermodel' and 'the most beautiful girl in the
world'. She is the daughter of model Glikeriya Pimenova and Russian
footballer Ruslan Pimenov. With long honey-blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes
and a pretty face, Kristina’s appearance is indeed stunning.

Having inherited almost-perfect genes which make her so pretty,
she has been modelling since the age of three. She has already been the
face of major companies like Armani, Benetton, Roberto Cavalli, Vogue, and
many more. Kristina is also a rhythmic gymnast.

Kristina’s mother regularly posts pictures of Kristina on various social
networking sites – Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Most of these snaps are candid pictures, taken all throughout the day, displaying her various moods and her various attires. Now, some of these photos have become the source of immense criticism, with people accusing her of exposing her sexuality
and describing her poses as ‘adult’. Her pictures have been subject to
comments such as ‘babe’ and ‘long legs’.

Yes, she has pictures with her legs exposed, but what is so wrong in that?
This is what the world has become now where a little girl is being subject
to such crude criticism. She does not even post her pictures herself.
Mentalities of people have become so crooked these days that they accuse a
girl, who is not even pubescent, of sexualising herself.

Paedophilia is a psychiatric disorder in which an adult or older adolescent
is attracted to prepubescent children, generally of eleven years of age, or
younger. However, the percentage of occurrence of this disorder is quite
low. Yet, now it seems that the whole world is being induced with
paedophilia, otherwise, why would a little girl be subject to such remarks?

Thankfully, Kristina does not get to see these remarks as her mother manages
her social networking accounts. Her mother defends her and has remarked: “I
think any criticism about it is the fruit of a sick imagination. I think
people who post something like this have serious psychological problems.”
Kristina’s mother is right, of course.

When Kristina is blessed with such beauty, it is normal that her mother
would want to showcase it. The world is full of paedophiles. People cannot
stand beauty in others. As soon as these paedophiles see Kristina’s pictures
they start ogling them. Ogling a nine-year-old’s photograph! Twisted human
psychology knows no bounds.

Now, imagine Kristina reading these comments. Will she ever want to wear
shorts again? Would she ever want to take photographs of herself? She will
want to stop showcasing her beauty, maybe even stop modelling. As a result,
her life will be torn down. Hence we can imagine how this criticism can
destroy her. Why would one want to destroy a little girl? The answer –
people are jealous of beauty in others. They are paedophiles and haters.

Some have also criticised Kristina’s life saying that being enrolled in the
glam world from a very young age, she does not get to lead a normal, down
to earth life. This accusation is false though since she leads a very
normal life, having only three to four photo sessions a month. Those days
are like a holiday for her and she really enjoys herself.  Some have
commented that maybe her mother got her into modelling simply to make money
for herself. At this Kristina’s mother said, “I am here to tell you that we
have enough money, that Kristina has a happy childhood - and that I have an
honours degree from a university, so I don't think these accusations stick.'

This criticism has to stop, and now. Kristina is a very young, beautiful
little girl doing something she enjoys. There are always haters who do
nothing better than try and tear down other people's lives. However, this is just
wrong. This little girl does not deserve the criticism that she gets simply
for being extremely pretty, getting her photographs clicked and having a career in modelling at such a young age. These paedophiles should wipe their brains clean so that
all these all these spots of meanness and crudeness are washed away.

The Summer Breeze

HARSHITA SRIVASTAVA

CLASS 12 SECTION A

The summer breeze blows as she stands,
On the sea shore.
Light blue waters,
Meeting the golden horizon.
A magenta piece of cloth,
Adorning her beautiful body,
Dancing with the wind,
On that midsummer evening.
A magical lash of the waves,
Just kisses her bare feet.
Bowing down before her,
As her magnificence speaks.
An enchanting look spreads across,
When a summer evening,
Could be so beautiful,
Capable of being everything.
Lost in a whirlpool of thoughts,
She stands staring,
At the mystery of the horizon,
Where meets the sea and sky.
Realities of life come alive,
As the wind kills the heat,
She breathes a trickle of air,
Fading it into that endless breeze.
The sun has now disappeared,
Night sets its foot,
A beautiful evening indded,
With summer and no heat.
Only thoughts play their parts,
Moulding the place and time,
Into an everlasting wonderland,
Where only beauty speaks....

An Obituary To Two Angels

It is with utmost sadness and grief that I pen down this post- knowing fully well that the two darling women in my life, my mother Greta Noronha and my best friend Suzette Jordan are up there in the heavens and smiling down us all- but the grief of separation is certainly inescapable, especially in a span of 20 days almost.

My mother

Most here would know my mother- Greta Noronha, a jovial, fun-loving and yet a stern-blunt woman. She didn’t care about what the world had to speak of her; she knew what she wanted and got it come what may. Growing up I never understood why she was a rebel, and didn’t believe in the superficial societal and religious norms laid forth- she had a mind of her own, which certainly explains why I am the same. Most would point fingers and talk about her; she stopped socialising for the fact that the society we live in was nothing but hogwash and gibberish. Being a lady who sacrificed her career and gave up her aspirations for our family; she knew how to make a platform strong and supportive enough to manage us all, should she go someday.

Ladies and gentlemen, my darling mother- now an angel is in the arms of her mother and father. Mummy was a patient of dementia for 5 years, and it all began in 2010 but the diagnosis came much late; too late for us to do anything at all. We did our best to give her the most wonderful moments, and even while in the ICU i sang into her ears, I held her hand and told her it was okay for her to cross over, for we will be fine.

Maybe I lied to her then, because no one can even match up to the love of a mother- life has to go on, and that’s why I took charge at home after she was laid to rest. Mummy never expected anything from anyone; she rather gave more than what she could afford. I salute her noble ways of life- little did the hear sayers know she was always someone who would walk up to the poorest around or the animals on the road, sit with them and communicate in her own ways.

No one knows but a very few and for those of you who did meet my mom (friends and teachers alike) would know best- my mum was a very welcoming lady. Her expressions told it all; if she liked you or not, she wouldn’t judge you though. She left you to understand your words, actions and ways in life- never would she impose her ways on you.

Regardless of who you are, where you came from or the kind of money you made, your orientation or beliefs; mummy loved everyone alike. I can only hope and aspire to be a percentage of her in my whole lifetime, or maybe not.

Eternal rest Mom,

I am happy you now are in a better place.

My darling Suzette,

I remember the first time we met, it was in 2014 and that was when I called you and invited you for the civil rights movement at Jadavpur University, Kolkata- Slutwalk Kolkata chapter 2.

The moment I reached your home and it was a bloody scorching day, your warm hug gave me the respite from the elements around!

Over cups of tea we bonded and finally marched that evening, with friends and supporters alike. Suzy as I fondly called you, you gave me the strength to be the individual I chose to be- you told me very clearly – LOVE IS LOVE AND IT TRANSCENDS ALL MAN-MADE BOUNDS. I realise those words ever more now, more than what I could have back then.

Every moment spent with you, at your place with Aunty Karen, with Nicqui and with Rhea and Jade, and yes your lovely cats and the cousins who would drop by- never was I made to feel as though I was an outsider; I was at home.

Shocked and despaired as the world is; I wonder where were all the ‘activists’ who wrote to you and promised help or support, I wonder where were they- but again, a noble lady such as you who judged no one or expected nothing from the world, always told me to be grateful. I am grateful having an angel like you, for supporting me when mums health when bad- when my own didn’t come visiting, you were there.

I am highly obliged for the little things you did for me and I admire your courage of fighting against the political honchos too. I wonder why there was no CBI investigation in your case; Oh I forgot- you were termed a ‘prostitute’ and a ‘woman with fast ways’; so you basically were not human-enough to be thought off as a case- but you fought them all my girl, you did.

People pointed fingers at you and cooked stories about you, made you part of their gangs only because they wanted ‘limelight’- you cared nothing about the same. There were many who wrote obituaries when you passed away – I wonder how noted activists could use RAPE as a joke as an ICEBREAKER.

I am happy that you too are in the arms of your loved ones and are in a better place now. Suzy my mad girl, you are missed terribly; the fun we had, the soul-to-soul talks, the silent music listening sessions, the shopping for dry fish and walks to Behala church every Sunday. Even at church people would snare and glare, but we would laugh them all off!

I hope you are rocking the scene up there darling? 

Miss you my madness

Rohan AH Noronha

Image stylist and social activist

Batch 1996

Moonlight Romance

PRATIKSHA GUHA

Class 10 Section B

The sudden stream of cool air current rushed into the moonlit darkness of the room accompanied by the creaking sound of the door that now stood ajar. The steady flame of the candle flickered with quick graceful curves as the soft air blew over it. Susan’s sweet dilemma was sweetly disturbed with the much-awaited arrival.

Her longing gaze acutely transformed into a rapid thoughtless search, the dusky shadow of her bend lashes in the smooth cavity below her eyes, disappearing to the glorious aureole, that now apparently was sourced from her ecstatic face. Her lips quivered with excitement. She folded her hands and pressed it against her chest to subdue the loud thumping of her heart, her ‘Biological’ heart that behaves in a similar manner whenever it perceived the signal of the arrival of her ‘Philosophical’ heart ---her true heart, her soul, the love of her life—Max.

Her lips curved into a beautiful smile with the touch of her beloved on her shoulders. She turned, she looked up. The man with his hand on her shoulders gleaming happily, his handsome features glowing with awe at the soothing beauty of his girl, a similar that grips him when he is in the vicinity of his love, of her fragrance, her touch, her affectionate eyes bubbling with Love.

“You missed me, Max?” was the childish question.

“Of course I did!” came the laughing reply.

“Lie….. You couldn't miss me when you were battling the Romans?” She asked, shaking her head.

“Of course I was! I was physically battling them and mentally battling out the two opposite emotions, whether I should die for the century or live for you!” She said with pretence of amazement, suppressing a knowing smile.

“So I am!” he said happily. Susan slipped her fingers through his and stood up resting her head against his brave chest. Max touched her bun and unmade it, letting her hair roll down her neck, then shoulder, brushing her back airily and swinging with its unmade ends at her waist. The dark strands engulfed her completely. Max caressed the soft curls and brought his lips close to her ears, whispering eternal words of Love and then the request for dance.

“Dance?” she breathed and fully gave her arms into Max’s strength, his arms, his love. He pulled her close, holding her y the wait. The dance began to the tune of the several realms--- the moonlight, the sea waves, the rain-washed garden around, the unpredictable nocturnal breeze and to the melody of the inner realms, the untouchable realms, of the distant insides, that served to be the magnetism of attraction between the two Lovers, Susan’s floral printed gown seemed to be the paintbrush, brushing the air with the diverse colours of her dance steps. Her hands were tightly clasped in Max’s, her feet raised to lift her posture to meet Max’s bent face. The dance continued as they touched each other lips, rubbed their faces and shut their eyes to the world, completely drinking in the mirth of true Love, everlasting bonding, their bodies cutting the air at perfect angles moving to the silent tune, punctuated by Susan’s laughter following the playful whispers of Max. The dance continued; the dance of the most romantic couple, Susan and Max.

Across the garden, in the servant’s bungalow, two servants sat in the verandah couch watching the spectacle through the open window, with astonishment. Astonishment, not pleasant but fearful. They watched as their mistress dressed in a floral gown, danced away, clinging to the air, to nothingness, laughing aloud to herself and fiddling through her locks.

“This has become a regular task. It is high time we take our step” said the male servant. “No please,” piped in the female, wiping her tears off,”We should take care of her, Master would be disappointed”. She wept looking up at the star –studded firmament. “Please be practical”, came the firm reply. “It has been a year since the death ceremony” he paused. We need to do this, We have no other alternative, I will  take the blame if anything happens to her” he said, and ignoring her wife’s violent he dialed the number of the asylum.

Susan fully gave into Max’s arms, his west windy room, however the dance continued ceaselessly to the silent tune of Love, eternity as Susan and Max kissed Each other fondly never pausing their late night dance, everything and completely drinking in the mirth of their romance, free from the fear that tomorrow might separate her from her love- her eyes, that still dwelled in the past, reflecting love and anticipation, eyes blind to the present, eyes whose real tomorrow was going to reflect the coldness of the living dead.

ALONE? NO MORE!

DEBASMITA GHOSH

Class 11 Section C

Ritabhari hated her teacher Sanjay Sir. Sanjay sir despised Ritabhari. They were never meant to like each other. They were never meant to be bonded by the relationship of father and daughter. But as the saying goes, “In life what is unexpected is expected.” Sanjay Srivastava or Sanjay Sir to the students was now the proud father of one Ritabhari Bepari, alias Ritabhari Srivastava.

Sanjay was the chemistry teacher at Rita’s (as her friends call her) school. He had a reputation of being extremely strict and mean with his students. No student had ever seen him smile or speak politely with anyone. He was known as the ‘Snarky git’ to the students.

Rita was a thirteen years old orphan and a student of eighth standard. Her parents died in an accident while returning from conference outside the country. She lived with her paternal uncle and his family and attended the same school as her cousins. Her uncle Shyam Bepari and his family were quite unkind people. They never cared for Rita or loved her. But Rita could never inform anyone about it as she was scared that her uncle might find out and also that she never wanted to seem weak in front of others.

Ritabhari was quite a pleasant girl and had a group of four friends at school. Though her friends were quite close to her they were never aware of her treatment at house as Rita was always very reluctant to talk about her family.

Rita had suffered for as long as she could remember in the hands of her so called ‘family’. But it was one simple incident in their chemistry class that day a year before, that Rita’s life took a turn for the better

It was the morning of 16^th September, 2013 and eighth standard students had their first two periods of the day as double chemistry. Rita, along with her classmates was waiting outside the chemistry lab for their teacher Sanjay Sir to arrive.

“Every one, please leave all your belongings except your pens and lab manuals outside. Put on your lab coats and enter. Quickly, please, as dillydallying”. A deep baritone voice snapped at the students. Everyone felt silent and hastened to do as told and then scurried towards the lab. Sanjay strode in behind them.

“Today we will be doing some simple experiments. The instructions are on page 52 in your lab manuals and also on the board. Those of you who pay attention in class will not find any difficulty in understanding the procedure as I have explained to you before. The chemicals are separated in vials in the store cupboard. The monitor will distribute them to you. You have 90 minutes. Begin” Sanjay so Sanjay looked towards Rita in distaste and moved to sit at his desk.

Rita had no idea why her chemistry teacher despised her so much. She always tried to follow his instructions to the letter but he was never satisfied. It seemed that Sanjay had some personal vendetta against her. Rita, therefore, decided to ignore the looks Sanjay was giving her and continued with the assignment.

Rita’s work was progressing quite well and she was in the last step. It was 60 minutes through and she decided to finish her experiment. She was about to take her last vial of the chemical required when the volatile liquid dropped on her hand and she let out a scream “Ah”. Sanjay stood up from his desk hearing the sudden scream. “This is the result of not….”Sanjay had begun to make a rude comment to Rita, when he noticed the condition of her hand. It had a bad burn and rashes had started to form near the wound. He moved towards her in long strides and took her hand by the arm to inspect clearly. Rita flinched and tried to move away but unable to do so due to Sanjay’s firm grip. “The rest of you will continue with your assignment. A substitute teacher will be sent to the class shortly. Till then, the monitor will take over.”Sanjay barked out instructions to the class and then immediately pulled Rita along with him to see the school nurse.

“I don’t understand why the children are allowed such volatile chemicals during experiments” the school nurse muttered angrily to herself as she checked Rita’s hand and bandaged it up. She then proceeded to write down a prescription for Rita.

“Is it your first time in sick room here? Were you never hurt at school before?” the nurse questioned Rita suddenly. Rita was startled; “Yes it is the first time I am here. But why do you ask?”--confusion was evident in her voice. Because it seems that your guardians never submitted any of your previous medical records to the school.” Replied the nurse.

“I don’t have any medical records!”

“And why is it so?”

“I never needed to go to a doctor. I am quite immune to diseases.”

“But it is impossible to never once fall ill enough to go the doctor” exclaimed the nurse. Then she asked skeptically, “Are you sure your guardians treat you well?” Rita was shocked at the sudden question. O- Obviously, Why would you even th-think that? She stuttered but fear was clearly visible in her eyes which did not go unnoticed by either Sanjay or the school nurse

Very well, I would like to do a complete medical checkup of yours.” Said the nurse and started to drag Rita away behind the curtains. Rita put up fierce fight. She could not let anyone know about her weakness. ‘Let me go! Leave me!” she cried ferverently.  But it was Sanjay’s no- nonsense voice that broke her out of her trance, you will do as the nurse says”, he ordered in a tough voice. Then in a very gentle voice he opposed for his own, he added, Remember, you are not alone. We are always here for every one of you children should you ever need us.” There was something in his voice that compelled Rita to obey. She moved with the nurse without any more protests.

The nurse was shocked seeing the bruises that covered Rita’s body. She could barely restrain her anger at what the child’s relative had done. After the check-up, she helped Rita dress back up and called Sanjay to show some of the bruises that were on her neck, arms and legs. Sanjay was shocked. He had expected neglect but not direct abuse. After only a moments’ hesitation, he took Rita gently by her hand and guided her to seat on a chair and he himself sat on another facing him.

Rita had blocked out all her emotions after getting ready for the check-up. She knew she could not hide the marks anymore and how everyone will think of her as weak. It was only Sanjay’s voice calling her name broke her out of her thoughts.

Miss Bepari! Miss Bepari! Ritabhari! Rita! Can you hear me? Please answer me!”Sanjay’s concerned gentle voice called her. Rita could not control herself anymore. She began to cry softly covering her face with hands. Seen, her soft cries turned to painful sobs.

Sanjay was at a loss as to what to do. He was never good at providing comfort. He moved awkwardly and started rubbing her backs to sooths her. After some time when Rita had calmed down considerably, Sanjay attempted to question her, Rita, I will ask you some questions. Can you please answer them honestly? He asked gently.

I will try sir!”- whispered Rita.

“That is all I ask! Now can you tell me who hurt you, child?”

“My uncle, Sir.”

“Thank you! For how long has this been happening?”

As long as I can remember. He treats me like a slave, beats me, deprives me of food and locks me up in my room!” Rita answered, her voice cracking in the end.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone, child? We could have helped you!” Sanjay asked curiously.

 By now, Rita felt completely vulnerable and frustrated. She did not want anyone’s pity, I DID NOT WANT PEOPLE TO THINK OF ME AS WEAK, TO PITY ME, OKAY! AND WHY DO YOU CARE? YOU’VE ALWAYS HATED ME? WHY DO YOU CARE HOW I AM TREATED AT HOME?  She shouted, trying to cover her vulnerability with her anger.

Sanjay was taken aback by her outburst. He hesitated for a moment but then decided to answer her. I never hated you”, Miss Bepari, it was my fate that I hate. If it was not for my fate, you would have known me as ‘the loving uncle Sanju’ instead ‘the snarky Git- Sanjay Sir’. I was your parents’ best friend. Your father was a brother to me in all but blood and your mother was like my baby sister. But, it was my stupid mistake that led me to become distant with them.” Rita looked at Sanjay, shocked at the revelation. Sanjay continued, “I was engaged to your maternal aunt but I had no intentions of marrying her. I only wanted her property. You see, your mother’s family was quite rich. So I made your aunt to give me all her share of the property and then called of the engagement. Your aunt was completely shattered as well as your parents.”Sanjay’s voice cracked. Though he knew that her fiancé and her family forgiven him when he had apologised, he still felt guilty for his deed and then the sudden death of Rita’s parents did nothing to lessen his guilt. “I loved your parents very much. They were my only family as I was an orphan like you. But at that time I was blinded by the love of wealth. Although, later I realised my mistake and returned everything I had taken from your aunt and apologised, but I was never that close to your parents again for obvious reasons. You know I was chosen to be the Godfather when you were conceived, but after my misdeed, the choice obviously changed to your uncle Shyam.” Sanjay’s voice was now a strangled whisper. Rita looked up to see his eyes bright with unshed tears. “You were a continuous reminder of both of your parents. The moment I saw you I convinced myself that I could not afford to allow you to be close to me but I hurt you in the same way I hurt your parents. That is why I pretended to hate you!” Saying so, Sanjay broke down to tears. It was not like Sanjay to show emotions, but, he had suppressed them for too long and could not do so any more.

Rita listened to Sanjay with rapt attention. Everything was a lot for her to take in. She was trying to take in and process all the information she had just heard when her reverie was broken by muffled crying noise coming from just in front of her. Rita looked up to Sanjay sitting with his face forwards and head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking and heavy sobs wracked his body.

Rita did not know what to do. She hesitatingly moved and slowly wrapped Sanjay’s tall frame in her arms and rubbed his back in the hope of offering some comforts. Sanjay looked up. He had never thought that would offer him comfort after hearing what he did to his parents and he was greatly comforted by the child’s gesture.

Seeing Sanjay look up, Rita said “It’s OK Sir, I forgive you and I also know that if my parents had said that they forgave you, they did so from their hearts. You don’t need to feel guilty and sad anymore. I want to get to know you. I trust you, Sir!” she herself started crying. Hearing her, Sanjay pulled her closer and wrapped her in his arms lightly. They both were crying on each other’s shoulder and trying to comfort each others. Their painful life was about to end.

The next day itself, Sanjay contacted the child care services and informed them about Rita’s uncle. He helped Rita overcome the pain her relatives had put her through. They both continued to spend time with each other. Rita loved to hear stories about her parents from her ‘uncle Sanju’ Sanjay just loved to spend time with his ‘teddy-bear’ The nick names they had for each other was the proof of them growing closer. Rita had informed her friends about her uncle and had told them about Sanjay. They approved whole heartedly and were very happy for her.

Nearly six months had passed after the incident when Sanjay had said to Rita that she wanted, he could make the relationship official. Rita was thrilled at the idea of being adopted and having someone to call ‘Dad’ and have him loves her and care for her. She had replied by squealing, jumping and then throwing her arms around her would be Dad’s neck and giving him a light hug. And now after one complete year and few more days, the adoption was approved and Ritabhari Bepari was now officially Ritabhari Srivastava, proud daughter of Sanjay Srivastava. They would never ever be lonely or alone in their life again. 

True story

Pritha Sarkar

Class 12 Sec- C

Chapter - 1

The car was standing in a traffic signal at half past five. Rishi, waiting patiently inside, was looking out at the countdown, as the wipers swept off the water from the windscreen. The rain was quite heavy. His eyes were looking across the car, when they fell on the lady, dressed in a sky blue chiffon sari, desperately holding on to her umbrella. She was standing at a distance from his car waiting impatiently. The FM in his car played, “Ami chini go chini tomare, ogo bideshini…”

“Why don’t you come inside the car? Maybe I can help?” shouted Rishi lowering the window. She seemed to hesitate a moment, but probably thinking of the rain, came inside the car. “Thank you so much for the lift, the rain doesn't seem to stop”, she said in a rather husky voice, while adjusting her hair away from her face. Unfortunately they kept on falling. ‘Hmm, quite a heavy one”, murmured Rishi, as he started the car. “Where should I drop you?” “Sealdah Bridge, well actually I’m going to my mother’s place. I don’t live with her although. Oh well, I’m Malini, by the way”, she said with an abstractly familiar smile, and he noticed that her right eye seemed to get shut while she smiled. She had a habit of talking extra. “I’m Rishi, Rishi Gupta” he said, as a picture of Mallika flashed in his mind.

“Well, I think I have seen u somewhere, u seem very much familiar, u know?” said Rishi. “”Ah well, that’s a quite known line u know, haven’t tried on anyone yet?” saying this Malini rolled into a laughter. Embarrassed, Rishi said, “No, I’m quite serious. Anyway Sealdah and Tollygunge are quite far. May be I’m mistaken.” “Well, if u have heard me correctly, my mother’s place is in Sealdah, but I’m from Golfgreen, quite close to yours.” she said with a wink. “I work at a private firm there, and they only provide me flat there. I seriously miss my mother at times u know. Its been a few years my father went away, and that’s the only reason she won’t move out of that house.” She seemed to be very frank and spoke of different things. When her eyes fell on the photograph, placed inside just before the windscreen, she asked, “Your girlfriend?”

“My wife.”

“Oh I see. She is quite pretty you know. And see, we have the same moles!” Malini had a mole on her temple, at the same place as that of Mallika. Her phone started ringing with the caller tune “Bhalobese shokhi  nibhrite jotone amar namti likho….” It was her mother.

For the first time in 2 years, he felt a strong attraction for any other woman. She seemed to like soft music, as when the earlier song ended, and there started a rock song, she turned her face out of the window, and murmured the lyrics of it. Rishi turned down the fm, and took a right turn. It was close to half past six, and he realized that it was already getting dark. He accelerated the car and stopped at another signal. The rain had turned into a drizzle. Malini continued to murmur the song, and said suddenly, “You know, may be I know you after all. You come sometimes to Golfgreen, don’t you?”

“Hmm well I do. It’s my workplace. For business works I often go there.”

“Take a left turn, and then you can drop me below that flyover. It’s a bit deserted, but I don’t mind that. I can easily take a shortcut.”

Taking a sharp left, he brought the car to a halt, below an under construction flyover. She came out of the car, and asked him, “Why don’t you come to my flat with your wife someday? You don’t seem to speak much, but I hope your wife does, and I love to speak a lot. I would seriously love to meet her. I don’t have much of friends there.”

“Ok sure. Probably I can take her, and my daughter as well, if I get a chance” , he smiled.

“Oh, you have a daughter too? Great! Then bring her as well. What’s her name?”

“Roshni”

“Lovely name.  Anyway, bye for now.  My mom must be waiting.”

She disappeared after the heap of stone chips and bricks. Rishi, on reversing the car, felt something beneath his toes. He tried to find it, and it was her umbrella. She had forgotten the umbrella there inside the car itself.

Chapter – 2

In Dr. Majumdar’s chamber Abhi was impatiently waiting for him to finish his routine-check up.  It’s been one and half hours since he has brought his unconscious friend to his chamber, and since that very time he’s been repeating the same names.

Before Dr. Majumdar came and took his place before Abhi, he pushed an injection to Rishi’s hand, who was now lying back behind them, and slowly gaining consciousness.

“Do you know who is Malini, Dr. Majumdar?” asked Abhi.

"Nope, I don’t, but I have a clue about that. Coming to that later, all I know is, he is in a serious trouble. It’s been two years, and he doesn’t seem to have any sign of recovery, rather it’s been increasing,” replied the doctor.

“What….what do you mean?”

“It’s the same what you think. He is in a serious trouble of Schizophrenia. Its been two years since Mallika and Roshni’s death in that car accident, and his development of this problem. He came some 3 weeks back with his sister, who complained that he had been getting hallucinations of a woman, just like Mallika, he doesn’t seem to forget her. Theirs was a love marriage, if I’m not wrong?”

“Yes. He met Mallika quite accidentally. It was raining heavily, and he gave her a lift. He used to work where she lived, and that way they had frequent meetings. He often went to meet her mother as well, who lived alone. It was only a matter of four five months, and they got married.”

“Hmmm…..well where did you find him today?”

“I found him near an under construction flyover near Sealdah. He was franctically searching for something near a heap of stone chips and bricks. When I went closer to him, he was repeating the names Malini and Mallika, and had an umbrella in his hand.”

“Hmmm…..he must get over this you know, The hallucinations are becoming quite frequent now”

As Dr. Majumdar was saying this, Rishi’s voice came up from behind, asking to go to Mallika. He was still holding on to that very umbrella, and his phone rang up with the caller tune “Bhalobese shokhi  nibhrite jotone amar namti likho….”