Betrayed

by Kritika Sharma

“All I see is your palm. Where is the destiny?” She enquired, a bit curious. At this, I picked up my pen and drew something on the lines of my palm and showed it to her. She gawked at my hand for a few seconds and then banged her head on my desk, dramatically.

  “What? Can’t you see what this means?” I was shocked with her reaction. A big ‘D’ was written on my palm and wasn’t it destiny when it was written in the lines? Not sure about her, but to me, destiny was nothing but ‘love’. I expected her to marvel at the revelation, but she didn’t care. Though it didn’t matter to her, it really mattered to me. Deep down I knew, Dev and I were destined to be together.

  “You do love him, don’t you?” she inquired, and I examined my own feelings. Would you call it love?

  “What is love if not a passionate heartbreak?” I cited my philosophical crap, and she slapped her forehead laughing.

  “Okay, so Miss Queen of Philosophy how about calling him?” Shiva continued. It felt like she had pledged today to make us talk. And it’s not like I didn’t want to, I so wanted to hear his voice, get close to him and know him, but the thought itself scared me. My mother monitored all my phone calls – at times she even snatched the phone unexpectedly to check the person on the other end of the line. She never gave me spare money for calls from the PCO, and I wasn’t even allowed to step out of the house without work. How could I have a relationship?

  “You know I can’t call him. Mumma will kill me if she found out,” I stammered at the thought alone.

  “Your mother is such a sweet woman. I don’t know why you are so afraid of her.” She replied in an exasperated tone. You don’t know the real her, I thought sarcastically. “Anyways, you can call him from my place; my parents don’t fuss about the phone. If they did, I could never call you,” she finished looking at me expectantly, but I chose to ignore her. I focused on the book that was open before us and read the next words out loud – “A pulley is a machine consisting of a wheel over which a pulled rope or chain runs to change the direction of the pull used for lifting a load.” However, before I could read ahead, she snapped the book close.

  “What are you doing, our pre-board exams start in a few months. Mumma will hang me if I score less this time.” I was really worried about my grades.

  “You topped!” Shiva looked at me in disbelief. We had recently written our first term exams, and only yesterday our marks were revealed. Yes, I stood first in my class but I scored only 85%, and my mother was not happy. Her beating from the morning was still fresh in my mind and body.

  “Mumma expected more than ninety percent,” I hung my head and Shiva started laughing. A parent demanding good marks was an alien concept for her.

  “Maybe I should remind your mother how difficult tenth is,” Shiva remarked and I shook my head scared. My mother enraged enough to beat me again was the last thing I ever wanted.

  “Your good marks are justified, but I wonder how come Sumit scored in seventies?” Shiva wondered, and I shrugged carelessly. Sumit was my competition in school, and it was him who topped our school in ninth –and the reason for my mother’s abuse. Sumit and I always competed for the first position. To the school we were arch-enemies but what nobody knew, including Shiva, was that few days before first term I had deliberately bumped into him. Deep down I knew I had an advantage over boys and that day I had tested it.

  Interaction with Sumit – two months ago

  “Are you okay?” Sumit questioned as I bumped into him during lunchtime. I had morose expressions on my face.

  “No, I am not!” and I started shedding tears. It was my first pretense with any boy, and it was clear it was his first long conversation with any girl. He looked nervous. My heart raced at the thought of my next words.

  “What happened?” he enquired curiously. I stared at him for a long moment. I had never seen any boy this up-close before, except for Rakshit of course. He had dark complexion, and evidence of recent pimples reflected on his skin. There was also a hint of mustache around his lips. He didn’t spark any interest in me, but I had to do what I planned.

  “You are a genius,” I complimented and he smiled. Everybody knew he was not a genius, instead, he was extremely good at memorizing words. All term he would literally swallow all words and then in final exams, he would vomit. However, if you cross-questioned him on anything, he would stare blank. He was a lucky bastard blessed with incredible memory!

  “Not more than you. Last term was the first time I outscored you.” His tone was laced with pride of beating me.

  “I know,” and at this, I cried harder. I hid my face in my hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

  “Why are you crying?” he was hyperventilating. It was clear he had never been in such situation before.

  “My mother, she had threatened to marry me to an uncle if I stood second again,” I spoke between sobs. My words were 100% true, but the usage felt cheap. I shrugged the feeling and focused on Sumit.

  “What?” he was shocked. I nodded, sadly.

  “Your mother?” he stood open-mouthed. Like any normal person, he too couldn’t believe that a mother could be so cold-hearted.

  “What do you want from me?” he demanded worriedly.

  “Can you please not score perfectly in this term?” I begged as I folded my hands I front of him. He just stared.

  “I…” he pointed at his chest but suddenly, out of instinct, I grabbed his hand and begged. “Please, you can score well in finals. It’s only a matter of a term. Nobody will beat you with a cane if you came second,” I cried squeezing his hand between my fingers.

  “I…” he was speechless. He was staring at my fair fingers wrapped around his dark hand.

  “Please Sumit,” I let go of his hand and wiped my cheeks. Batting my eyes, I continued, “I hope you don’t hate me so much to deny such simple request.”

  “How?” he was stunned.

  “All you need to do is skip one question. That’s it. You will still score excellent, just that my mother will not kill me,” I whispered and dared to step towards him. He took an involuntary step back.

  “Fine! But how come your mother?” he started.

  “It is a mystery to me too,” I smiled sympathetically. The sympathy was not towards him – he was just an innocent boy who was so easily manipulated by a girl – instead, it was towards myself, who was abused on a daily basis.

  “I am sorry about your… err… condition,” he finished.

  “Thanks. Can you please keep this a secret?” I requested twirling my braid in my fingers.

  He nodded solemnly and smiled.

  Back in Ishana’s room – Year 2000

  “What?” Shiva waved her hand in front of me to bring me back to the present. Post that interaction, Sumit had behaved in a much friendlier manner with me. I reciprocated his friendliness with a smile, after all, he did score poorly in that term. I just hoped he didn’t expect me to hold his hands again, the thought itself felt sick!

  “We should study,” I remarked coming back to my senses.

  “Pre-board exams are not until December,” she shook her head in disbelief. It was our routine – I always tried to study, and she always tried to stray. I was about to argue when she posed the most dreading question of my life, “So what are your plans for next week?” she beamed, and a chill ran down my spine.

  “It’s his birthday, you ought to do something,” her stress on word birthday made my heart skip multiple beats. I had been dreading the arrival of his special day. Not because he expected much, but because I wanted to do something and was helpless.

  “Meet him and make his day,” she offered with a jubilant smile. Meeting for the first time on his birthday seemed like a great idea. “And, you should also go bearing gifts,” her suggestion forced my heart to sink even lower. What good could come at free of charge?

  “So, how much do you have?” she asked curiously. I shook my head disappointed. Even if I started saving now, I wouldn’t be able to save even fifty rupees by the time of his birt
hday.

  “By the way, he is super-rich and kind of a spoilt brat, so whatever you gift him, he may already have it.” She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, and my heart dipped further. “Do you know his father owns the building he lives in?” she continued in an impressed tone.

  “Really? I never thought of him as a super-rich kind of boy! That’s why he is in St. Stephens.” I wondered out loud. St. Stephens was the most elite school for boys of our town. It provided the best education, and hence it was super-expensive. I was in Hari-Shashtri. It was an average co-ed school. My father was a compounder in the government hospital, so he earned just a tad higher than bare-minimum. My mother was a housewife, but she had super-expensive dreams and demands. Hence, after the expense of our education, household requirements, and my mother’s extravaganza demands, my father could hardly spare enough to afford better schools. I was not ashamed of my education status because I knew that was the best my father could provide. Shiva, who came from a wealthier family, went to Hari-Shashtri only for convenience. She and I had been best friends and neighbors since kindergarten. Her parents wanted to move to a better locality, but every time they brought it up, Shiva created a ruckus, and they had to stay put. ‘You can move when I go to college,’ was her constant reason. Also, her parents wanted to shift her to St. Joseph, a much better school but she outright refused to leave her best friend behind, that is, me.

  “Oh yeah. Just imagine if you both got married, all his family fortune will be yours.” She beamed with excitement but my face fell. We belong to very different worlds then! How can we be together?

  “Hello? Already lost in all the glorious money?” She broke my sad reverie. I jumped out of bed and pulled out my battered, old purse. I showed it to her; it was empty.

  “Do you have twenty rupees?” There was a pity in her eyes for me. I shook my head, and she hung hers in disappointment. So many times she had offered to lend me money, but I found it inappropriate. It’s not like I felt insulted, instead I believed that taking money from her meant taking undue advantage of her friendship. I could sense she was about to offer me money, but in that moment I remembered something.

  A sudden, frenzied excitement ran through me. How could I have forgotten? I cursed internally. Quickly, I peeped through my door; my mother was nowhere nearby. It was seven in the evening, so she had to be busy in her neighborly gossip.

  Slowly, I bolted the door. “If Mumma comes, you locked it accidentally,” I ordered Shiva, and she nodded, confusedly. And then, free of all prying eyes, I picked up the stereo system. It was second-hand, old, and battered, but I loved it nonetheless. It was my second confidant – after my books.

  “I won’t let you sell this. Your parents will kill you.” Shiva was shocked at my actions. I shushed her, angrily. Her voice was too loud for my mother’s dog-like ears.

  “I love it, and I am not selling it.” I rolled my eyes as I put it on the bed. My words relaxed her a bit. “Promise not to tell Mumma?” I whispered, and she agreed.

  “I hide money here. It’s my secret piggy-bank.” And at this, I opened the battery compartment of the stereo system. And hidden there, stuffed in an old sock, were multiple coins of fifty paise. She exclaimed with joy and surprise, but I shushed her. I could tell she was impressed with my canniness. Slowly and quietly, we counted the saved coins; they added up to fifteen and a half rupees only.

  My miserable reality devastated me. I had been hiding the spare money for months now, and that was what I had been able to collect. It was not like my family was so damn poor; it was just that my mother didn’t let me handle even a rupee coin without accountability. She allowed me no pocket-money, and God forbid if I ever dared to eat out. Rakshit was given good pocket money, and though I was not a cheap sister to steal from my younger brother, I did use his ‘male’ status. There was always some change left for which he was never questioned. And I always took that change with his due-permission and saved it. I hated my mother for the gender-biased person she was. Why didn’t she love me like she loved Rakshit? I thought, miserably. Love should never be scarce in a child’s life; if it is, it breaks them from within. As I re-counted the loose change on my bed, tears filled my eyes. However, before I could shed them, Shiva scooped up all coins and pocketed them.

  “Here,” and she handed me a twenty-rupee note. “I borrowed money sometime back and forgot to return it to you. So the debt is paid now.” I knew she was lying but what could I do? I felt guilty, miserable, and embarrassed for taking money from her, but I was helpless. Unlike me, her parents never asked for a detailed breakdown of money spent. I quietly took the money and made a mental note to pay her back.

  “Now, we can get him a present.” She smiled, and my heart filled with gratitude towards her. She was my one true friend, and deep down I knew that our bond of friendship was purer than any blood relation. My eyes filled with tears again, this time they were of indebtedness. However, before I could utter thanks, she snatched the money back from my hand. She spoke thoughtfully as she rolled the note and placed it back in her pocket, “I have an excellent idea. Your darling future husband is going to get his brain exploded by the present you are going to give him.” She smirked, and I turned red at the mention of the words ‘future husband’. Could he be the one? Could he be my future husband? My true love?

  Shiva came through with her promise, and a day before his birthday, she handed me a small packet. I peeked inside. It contained a small cassette in a case. The cover of the cassette had a couple, kissing, and the words read ‘I love you’. My heart skipped multiple beats at the sight of the cover. The way the man was wrapped around the girl made me exceptionally uncomfortable. I didn’t want to give Dev any false hopes. “Oh, just take this apart,” Shiva sensed my hesitation through my expressions and pulled out the cover and tore it. She handed me a piece of paper to write a personal message. I hesitated at first; I didn’t want to write anything in my own handwriting; what if my mother found this? She would kill me, literally. I looked around for options - writing with a stencil would not just be tedious, but also very impersonal; then my eyes fell on my calligraphy kit. I quickly picked it up and wrote in my beautiful calligraphic hand – “Happy Birthday Dev.” It was beautiful, elegant, and had my personal touch. And the best part was that nobody could tell I wrote this. I admired it with pride.

  “Nice touch.” Shiva smiled as she carefully placed the note in the cover and started to wrap it.

  “How did you manage this in twenty rupees?” I couldn’t help but feel grateful. “And what all songs does it have?”

  “Umm… don’t bother, I know how to get things done at a cheap price, and this has all your favorites like ‘Deewana Tera’.” I felt my face turn red with heat. She regarded my feelings for a moment, then smiled. “I know that you really like him, so I just thought you would like to gift him your confession on this auspicious day.” Her smile was full of glory, and I just looked down, smitten.

  That night at twelve, I lit a candle to wish him first. I had turned off the lights earlier but waited until midnight to wish him. To me, that candle was the symbol of my love, and I just hoped he saw my confession in the bright flame that burnt all night.

  When it Began

  Next morning, Shiva and I detoured and waited for Dev on his way to his school. Usually, we waited for him to pass my gate, but today we left a bit early. A broad smile spread across his face the moment he saw us. He was riding alongside someone. I stole a quick glance at his companion, and I was sure that this boy had never been to his window. So far I had seen three of his friends next to him, but he was not one of them. He had a dark complexion and an oval face. He looked very friendly, but given that my attention was all for Dev, I chose to ignore him.

  Gingerly, Dev stopped in front of me. “I was wondering where you went this morning.” He was smiling ear-to-ear. I just blushed. I wanted to say so many things, but nothing came out. Smitten under his gaze, I turned bright red and fixated on my shoes. In all my excitement
for his birthday, I had forgotten to polish them. I felt conscious. Shiva elbowed me and pointed at my bag.

  Slowly, I pulled out his gift and offered it to him with trembling hands.

  “What is this?” he questioned. His tone made me look up; he was serious but was smiling. Thank God!

  “A gift for you.” Shiva helped me.

  “Doesn’t your friend have a voice? I have never heard your voice; speak something at least.” He tilted his head and gave me his most exotic smile. I looked at him with admiration for a few moments, open-mouthed, and then went back to staring at my dirty, unpolished shoes. “At least wish me happy birthday,” he insisted, taking a step closer to me. I felt my heartbeat rise at his growing proximity. Instinctively, I stepped back.

  “Ha…” I started but stopped again. Shiva gently placed her hand on my shoulder in encouragement. “Happy birthday,” I whispered.

  “Haaiyyyeeeeeeeeeeee,” he exclaimed, and I practically jumped. My heart skipped multiple beats at once. He held out his hand for me to shake. Nervous, I took it. Sparks erupted from his fingers and tickled me sensuously.

  “Thanks for making my birthday the most special one. You have the most beautiful voice, Ishana,” he spoke, holding my hand. The way he spoke my name in his beautiful voice, I felt that finally my name had a meaning and purpose. He gazed in my eyes with such depths that all I wanted to do was run and hide my face in his chest. I controlled my emotions.

  “And thanks for lighting that candle at midnight. You were the first one to wish me, do you know that?” He spoke my heart’s desire and a joyful smile appeared on my face. I had never been so happy before.

  “Ahem-ahem!” Shiva cleared her throat. “We are late for school, by the way, so we should get going,” she finished, pulling my hand from his. Reluctantly, he let go of my hand. Suddenly, I felt incomplete.