A Scapegoat

Story of a woman who is used and forgotten.

Today is my birthday and it is also Valentine’s day.Nobody has sent me a card, a chocolate or a teddy. Neha my roommate has gone to Delhi on Official work, she did wish me before leaving.I sighed. I was alone in the room. It was Sunday. I did receive some birthday wishes on phone but it was not the same as receiving gifts or being asked to lunch or dinner. We were two of us sharing a room in Chandigarh. I was 27 years old working in a bank for the past four years.
I didn’t look too bad but I was an introvert, shy, men didn’t approach me easily and I had never gone out on Valentine’s day. I was neither on Face book.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. ‘’ Who could it be now?’
A man around thirty stood at the door, there was a young girl with him.The girl was a college student and had come for pg accommodation. A friend of hers had informed her that a bed could be available here. One bed was definitely ready for use.
“We are from Kolkata. I am Kaberi and this is my da”. The girl smiled.

“Sujoy Roy”. The man said.
“A dutiful brother”.  I thought.
“We want to buy some bed sheets and plates and cups for Kaberi”. They seemed to have liked the room “If you can please come with us and show us the shops, since we are new here and don’t know anything” The man’s eyes had an intense look.
I could feel myself blushing.
I was feeling stifled in the room and wanted to go out myself.
The man was soft spoken, well mannered and knowledgeable.  Kaberi did buy a bed sheet but nothing else. Even though I refused they persuaded me to sit at a café and partake of refreshments.
I found myself enjoying every minute. His eyes were penetrating.
The next day the girl didn’t come in fact she never came. When I called her she said she was staying with her uncle and aunt who lived nearby.
Each day I waited for the young man Sujoy to call me and at least say hello.  We had discussed several topics and had become quite friendly.
It was a month later when I saw them at the auto stand, that I realized that they were lovers and had wanted to enjoy Valentine’s day, afraid of being seen together they had tagged me along as a chaperon. With them was Usha our land lady’s daughter.  Who must have given them my details and how I craved company.
It was then that I remembered that Bengalis refer to one older as dada or didi and it didn’t actually have to be one’s own brother.