By Sathya Sathya

I have scored well in my tenth standard said my parents and relatives, but I wasn’t satisfied with my result as I expected a little more than what I have scored.  My parents felt so proud about me, especially my father was overjoyed with this.  My mom didn’t say anything, when I said I wanted to go to a movie with my friends, while on the other days she forbade it.  My dad even gave me twenty rupees and asked me to enjoy the memorable day.  The next day, my father brought a diary and a fountain pen in his hand while coming from his office and called my mom and said,

“My Chief-Engineer, Chiranjeev, inquired about our Sathya’s results and as a reward to her hard work, he gifted this to her.” It seemed, his son Babu didn’t even score half of the marks our daughter had scored, he told in a vain.

I grabbed the pen from his hands and gave a pride smile.  The next day he came up with news,

“My co-workers suggested that Sathya should study in a better school than this school.  If she studies in a good school, there will be good trained faculties and it would be much easier for her to shine in her high school results.”

Then he told about details of the school, which is the best one in our whole district, where my father’s superior Chiranjeev’s son had been already studying.  Whenever my friends told about that school or whenever I saw that school while going in bus, I used to feel how lucky were those students who study over there.  And I couldn’t believe that my dad was really going to join me in that school.  Later my mom asked about the fees needed to be paid and that full night we discussed about this topic and the next day, I applied for Transfer Certificate in my old school.

We paid the fees in advance and to our surprise, the new school granted me a scholarship too and so my dad’s burden had greatly reduced like way his pride increased.

   My tenth standard had passed only by studying my subject books and concentrating on getting marks.  As far as I remember, I didn’t even waste a single day, and presently I was contented about that. If I hadn’t studied well, there would not have been these many rewards and happiness.  I had the habit of studying the next grades’ books in my summer holidays itself.  In the same way for my eleventh standard, I got old books from my neighbour Sumathi, who was two years senior to me and I studied some of the lessons in English and Chemistry which are my favourite subjects.

As the day for the opening of my new school approached, my parents started cautioning me that I shouldn’t bring any troubles with Chiranjeev’s son, thereby inviting my father into trouble.  I was very angry with my parents, for saying this same thing again and again. Their repeated advice made me to presume that this boy is going to be a presumptuous one, so I decided to act as if I don’t know about this boy after my school begins. 

It was Wednesday, waking up at 5 o’ clock and taking a head bath I got ready for the first day of my new school.  My uniform wasn’t yet stitched.  And I had only two good dresses to wear.  I wore my first dress which is pink in colour and was slightly lost its colour due to over wash the previous day, so I opted for the second one, which was my green churi-dhar. 

Even on the way to my school in my dad’s scooter, he kept on saying how I should behave in my new school. I got angry, and I told him,

“Don’t eat my head.  I know how to behave with him.  I won’t talk with him.  I won’t sit near him. I won’t even turn to the side, he resides.”

   He said nothing. My dad dropped me in front of the gate, he looked on the building for half a minute in an awestruck, then he smiled and told that he would come and wait near the gate at 4 o’ clock.  I was terrified a little on seeing the school’s building very closely for the first time.  It appeared like five times of my previous school.  Those tall buildings and the wide school ground made me to apprehend that I was going to be lost here.  I immediately thought that in these hundreds of students studying in the same class, would I be able to keep my first rank.  Perhaps, I had confident on myself and with that I made my way towards the class.

My class room was painted with brown colour, which I loved so much and I was so happy to see the desks over there provided with a locker facility for every student.  On my first sight the students in my class appeared superior to me in some way.  They looked neat and rich.  I was afraid, I would be discriminated and I decided to start a friendship with those who looked otherwise.  I, being new they were curious in knowing about me.  Soon they asked me about my birth, my father and our gossips soon took a turn to our favourite colours and it went on in a never ending track.  When I said my name to them, they said that there was another Sathya in the class.  My happiness ended in a split second, when they told it was the name of the boy who was sitting in the last bench.   A short debate went whether Sathya was a masculine or feminine name. 

   Then, I asked a clue for this boy who happened to be my superior’s son by saying his name, Babu, which my dad told me.  They said they didn’t have anyone by this name in our class.  I thought he would be in some other class and felt happy about it.  After my first cycle test, I naturally got many friends, because of my colourful marks.

 Whenever our class teacher called my name for attendance, he, the other boy named Sathya and I both said presence simultaneously.  Perhaps, he and I hadn’t conversed with each other not even once.  There began my quarterly examinations, Sathya sat near me in the exam hall.  After a few minutes, he hissed and asked answers for the one mark questions.  I acted as if I didn’t hear his voice.  He stretched his hands, touched me and asked.  I said I didn’t know, he threatened me and asked to show my papers, I didn’t show, I instead got angry and gave him an angry look, the look I gave whenever some girl snatched the favourite food in my Tiffin box during our lunch. He went away from the exam hall soon scolding me as if I was responsible for his plight. 

  He became my first enemy.  Then after, I started to find defects about him and complained about him towards other girls.  They told me that he was a rich kid, but was never a danger to anyone and he wasn’t arrogant as I censured.  Yet I kept my views unchanged. 

  In the last day of my quarterly exams, we went for a science exhibition. In that exhibition, I asked so many questions with those students, who presented it and as a result I missed the school bus that took us from our school.  The whole class went to the exhibition, but they missed me to count in, and no one noticed me or found me missing.  Such was the friendships I had made.  I felt so devastated because I had no money to return back to my school through bus nor I knew how to. I prayed for God to save me or send me a saviour.  ‘Sathya’ someone called.  It was him, the other Sathya of our class.  I felt so relieved and happy.

“Did you miss the bus or what?” He asked me.

“Yes, and you” I said.

“No, my home is nearby and I decided to bunk the school today, so I didn’t get in the bus,” he told me and made me to go back to the hopeless situation once again. I then explained my plight to him.  He then gave me two rupees and came to the bus stand to send me back to the school safely.

“Count the stops from here.  After fifteen minutes, when you reach the eighth stop get down there, it’s the stop to our school.  In the seventh stop you will see a big church and when see that get ready to get down in the next stop,” He told me as I got inside the bus he showed me.  He then came to the conductor and asked him to help me in getting down at our school stop.  I bade good bye to him happily.

  I explained what happened that day to my parents and told them that only a boy helped me.  They asked me not to forget to carry money to my school every day thereafter and asked me to return the money to him without forgetting.

  The next day I saw him.  He was getting inside the school when my father dropped me.  I didn’t even turn to look back at my father instead I walked with long strides to catch him.  I saw him keeping his hand in front of the Jesus idol placed in the entrance of our school.  Since my school was run by Christian missionary, most of the students irrespective of their religion, worshipped Jesus, though I refused to it since I was a Hindu.  Perhaps, that day I went near Jesus and saw him, having drawn a little, cross mark with the water placed over there, on the box like structure built with lining of bricks, inside which Jesus resided.  I went to the class, and returned his money.  I told him that I saw him moments before but I wasn’t able to catch him. 

Then I inquired,

“Don’t you mind worshipping Jesus when you are a Hindu?”

“All Gods are same.  What’s there in a name, a rose by some other name would also smell the same.” He quoted Shakespeare and I was impressed with it.

The same day our Mathematics teacher asked me to sit near him and help him in solving his problems.  I happily accepted it.  Soon our gossips began.  He inquired about my family.  He was surprised after knowing my father’s occupation.  He told his father too works in the same department.  I asked his father’s name.  He said, “Chiranjeev”

I felt so much of happiness and shocked.  I told him about the story which I already knew about him. I told, “My dad told his name is Babu”

“Yeah, that’s the way everyone in my home and my neighbours call me as.”

That day was a beautiful day in my life that I didn’t wish it to come to an end soon except for one reason that I wanted to say this to my parents in that night.  I told my dad on the way to our home and in the night as I expected, we had a big discussion on this.  After I told them that he was the same boy who helped during the exhibition day, my father told,

“Like father, like son.  He too is good as his father, God bless him.”

 I felt happy.  I became fond of Sathya day after day. We argued with each other for our names Sathya.  He professed that as per the meaning of the name (which meant strength as well truth) the name belonged to masculine gender and I argued that it belonged to feminine due to its simplicity like other feminine names.  We sat near each other, talked for long hours.  He called me as his laughing gas, as I made him to laugh. Every day he kept on saying about how his white dog, chased a rat went into their and came back fully black.  He said about how his little dog, went to fight with four stray dogs, and what would have happened had he not rescued.  He said about how his dog got the habit of eating tomatoes.  He always spoke about his do which made me to understand that dog was the only creature who remained as his closest companion, as his father and mother were busily occupied with their work.  Those times I felt happy that I wasn’t born into a rich family.  We quarrelled at times, whenever I disturbed his hands unknowingly while he was writing or when he kept his book in my locker instead of his. And as the days passed, I just didn’t turn away from the side he resided.

    Days later, I noticed a small moon shaped ink spot in his left palm.  When I inquired, I came to know that he had the habit of keeping that ink spot every day for ‘Joy’.  Joy- it’s our game, practice or fun activity or whatever it may be called, according to which if two students agrees to have a deal with “Joy”, then they should have a round ink spot in their palm every day.  If one forgets to have an ink spot or doesn’t have ink spot by the time, the other shows his palm marked with an ink spot, then he had to treat the other one in the canteen.  Even I had the similar habit of drawing a heart-in shaped ink spot in my left palm, the reason behind it I never knew.  Like him, I too didn’t want to miss the Saturday’s movies telecasted in our local channels. Like him I too watched only happy ending films the second time.  Like him, I too had a great love for poems and Shayars, that when I struck with a line in the middle, he got me to the flow and when he missed it, I said it. I found so many similarities in him and I began to like him more because he was like me in so many ways, our similar names were the proof to that.  And I felt if I were a boy, I would be like him and if he were a girl, he would be like me. 

   Often, I told my parents about him that he was the best boy in the whole class and we were great friends.  They were happy yet my mom warned me this shouldn’t proceed further.  How did she know about the same thing I was worried and afraid of?

   In the six months, since I have met him, I started to love him unknowingly, or that’s what I said to myself, when I clearly knew how much I wanted to be in his life forever.  My half-yearly exam leaves provided me an unavoidable situation to fall in love with him much more.  All the romantic films I watched, love stories and poems I read made me to dream about him in the nights.  After the vacation, when my school started, I wrote him a love letter in the form of a love poem, but I didn’t like it much.  So, I decided to write a beautiful poem until then I didn’t want to propose him.  Like this I answered my restlessness when I realised I was so coward to display my heart to him. 

   I didn’t write that poem for long days, and our eleventh standard was about to end.  On the last day before our exams, he gave his slam book and asked me to write in it.  I didn’t want to write in it because it meant we were just friends nothing more.  I told him, I would write and give his slam book the next day.  I went home and read his slam book.  I read what every student of our class had written in it.  To my surprise, Chaitra had confessed her crush to him.  The next minute I took a paper and wrote my first love letter to him.

“I was lost in darkness,

Just like the sky lark lost in a full moon sky

There came a star to

Guide me to my safest place and it was YOU...

It will take one minute to say these three little words,

But not a life-time would be enough to live up to those three words...

How much ever I may try, I would never be able to make you feel of

How much I love you and I wanted to be with you...

All I would do is I will rip my soul apart and give it on your hands,

And you decide the rest...

You do whatever you want to do with it...

If in this life-time I don’t get you,

Then let my life pass soon as a dream,

So that when I open my eyes finally after death,

Let I am be with you please...”

  I remembered about those days, he helped me when I was lost in the exhibition, on that day I was not lost in the exhibition but I was lost in him actually; those days he remained as such a trusted friend.  And those days he made me to fall in love with him immensely even without his own knowledge.

   In the morning of our first public exam I went earlier to the class and kept the letter inside his locker, as our keys opened both of our lockers.  But he didn’t open his locker at all and my letters remained unsaid, until the last day.  He didn’t even turn up for the class.  He came late directly to the exam hall and left earlier. Thinking about the money, my dad had paid, I didn’t want to get away soon from the exam while I would be half finished with my exams, when he got up and left.  It was the last day of our school.  I didn’t want to miss the chance and wait to meet him in my twelfth standard by dreaming about him in my exam holidays.  So, I decided to give the letter by myself directly to him that day itself.  I wrote as fast as I could, still I wasn’t fully finished with my answers, but I got up and followed him, when he left the exam hall.  Outside the hall, I called him.  He looked happy and excited.  I asked him the reason.  He said,

“I am going to join in a new sports school.  As you know, I want to play cricket and not to mug these books. My dad finally agreed to this yesterday after a long battle.”

“Sathya, what you are telling? How can you even think of it?  You are going to regret for it.  How can you leave studies for your cricket? ” I asked him angrily, though the real reason for my angriness was how he could think of going away from me.

“Nerds like you won’t understand this.  Just go and mug those books, which are what you wanted to do for this whole life time, right?” He shouted back.  I calmed him and at the end, I asked him,

“Don’t you feel like missing me?”I asked him.

“We hardly knew each other.  We have been here for ten months maybe. Why? Are you feeling that way?” He asked me.

“Usually when my friends go for other schools I feel like missing them, so only I asked you,” I told him.  He responded to my questions casually and told me a happy good bye and a casual farewell.  He was in my life only for less than a year, but it was more than enough for me to fall in love with him for my whole life time. And I know I didn’t have a need to propose him, as I had already known what was in his heart.  So I didn’t give him the letter but my goodbyes.

   He went to a distant place with his family after his father’s transfer.  My father stopped speaking about Chiranjeev, when he got a new chief replacing Chiranjeev. It was a big disappointment to me that time, but as time passed, I slowly accepted those and went on in my life.  Every month, writing some new poems in his remembrance became my soul-satisfaction and only that offered me a peaceful sleep. In my twelfth standard holidays, I sent my poems to newspapers and other journals and they got returned with appreciations and prizes and made me to become an aspiring writer with the great objection of my parents of course.  My poems and stories became popular and I had become an aspiring author by the time, my love for him ripened into a bitter fruit. In my first year of college, Vishal became my friend, by appreciating my poems often.  His appreciations helped me to write some better poems too.  I wrote with the name Sathya-Sathya, to let my school sweet-heart to know about the love I possessed for him if my poems reached him by some way.  The same name I wrote behind the bus seats and in the cactus plants most of the days, worrying for his departure. 

I always tried to gather details about Sathya with help of my dad and from my office friends as much as possible.  One day when both, my love and craze hormones, got secreted in excess, I decided to meet my Sathya and tell him what happened to my heart after he went away from me.  I devised a plan but that plan got dropped due to various reasons.  Then after I had that plan inside of me but I didn’t get a day to execute it courageously.  All I could do was cowardly, post letters in the letter boxes with from and to addresses’ name as Sathya. I knew none of those letters didn’t reach anywhere just like many of the wishes I had for him didn’t reach anywhere near him.

 That day, when I came home happily after my graduation day, my dad told me, “Remember Chiranjeev and his son, they had come to see the Elephants day celebration.”  His words shivered me.  I went to see him.  He looked stylish with his modern clothes and he had become shades fairer and his body was fully muscled.  I prayed he should look uglier or should something to make me to hate him, if not he could say, ‘I love you’ at the same instant he would see me. Had he became uglier at least, then I would have consoled myself if I didn’t get him, I worried the instant I saw him.  He had forgotten my remembrance, and I had to try a lot of things to get me out of his memory.

He said,

“Did you really study in my school?  How could I forget such a beautiful girl who studied with me? My bad memory,” and laughed.

I learnt that he left the sports school and studied visual communication and presently owning an automobile shop and looking after it.  From all the things he told, I understood one thing that he didn’t think much about me after he went to that new school.

When our other friends told about my poems, he appreciated me and said, he would read my book and send me his reviews.  I waited for his mails, I received ten or fifteen appreciation/depreciation letters every week, and I checked each and every one of those to make sure that his letter wasn’t missing.

When my poems count, which I wrote regularly in every week, reached the maximum my parents started telling their stories about their diseases asking me to get married soon and give rest for them.  Then I married Vishal, the love in my heart for my Sathya I could never convey.  Soon after my marriage, like me, my poems also attained a greater status. In an interview, while Vishal was sitting with me, they asked me,

“Most of your poems speak about loneliness and ignorance, how could you face these much pain without love?  There must be some guy in your life right?”

I said, “Yeah... There is one guy and he is sitting near me” Vishal hugged me at that instant and told, “Sathya, I love you forever”.  At this instance, and forever from here afterwards for me it matters much in making my Vishal, who is holding my hands, to smile and make him feel happy than making my no-more somewhere Sathya to smile.