Nandini Desai's Blog

PART 2

PART 1 After exam I went to Mumbai at my uncle’s place. He is my father’s elder brother. My uncle- Amar Kaka a pediatrician and his wife – Maya Kaki is a radiologist. I also have two cousin brothers- Sahil and Sagar. Both were elder to me and as children we didn’t have anything in common. My grandmother stayed with my uncle. Maya Kaki was a working woman and grandma preferred Mumbai. Frankly, I never liked Mumbai during my childhood, nothing against the city. My childhood memories of my uncles’s place at Malad blazingly feature my grandma trying to teach me how to make round chapatti and perfect tea. No wonder I returned within a fortnight. Mum and Chachi had become very close friends during this time. Like any good Indian neighbors, they had started exchanging special recipes. The summer is always busy for my mum as she has to prepare her stock of mango pickles, papads and other yummy items for an entire year.
Mum had made her special veg pulao and I was once again sent to my neighbors to give it to them. I could not believe my eyes when I entered this home. Last time, when I came here everything was in a mess. Now, this home could have been featured in any interior designer magazine. The overall effect of the home was so warm and natural. It was not very opulent or grandiose. Chachi has done some great work with the foyer and living room. The paintings were so simple yet, giving a completely metro look to this room. I loved this new home very much. Chachi showed me the entire bunglow. She was so happy here. Downstairs was the bedroom for Chachi, Arif and a guest bedroom. Upstairs was the store room and a book room for Aftab. No, Aftab does not need a bedroom. Bed can be optional in his room, books are must. He used to read voraciously. If he got bored of books, then he would come to Arif’s room to play computer games. Seldom he would come to the terrace and roam around. I wondered how a school boy like Aftab could collect so many books. It was Arif who told me that those books belonged to their father. Arif’s father was a professor of English Literature in a college. In their Pune home, they had  huge shelves full of books. When he passed away, his brother wanted to throw all these books. Aftab collected all the books and kept them in his room. Since then, these books are always in his room- no matter where he is staying. This is his father’s legacy for him. Chachi was very fond of me. She used to send me every special dish. Once she asked my mum whether it is permissible to give me non-veg food. Mum told her she did not have any problem. I was not a very keen non-veg lover but I liked Chachi’s Chicken Kurma and Fish Curry. My mum was a vegetarian, but she never forbade me from eating non-veg. My father never knew about it, as he was never around at home. We will come to that!! On a very hot May afternoon, Chachi came to our home. Arif and Aftab were at their Mama’s place.  I was watching a movie on TV. Chachi and my Mum were chitchatting and gossiping. Their topics of discussions were changing faster than the outfits of the film heroine. Both of them thought that I was consumed in the Salman Khan film, I am unable to listen to their interesting conversation. I had seen this film already five times. I was obviously listening to the gossip. My mum was telling Chachi about how my grandma always taunted her because having a single child- a daughter. Chachi said, “I always wanted a daughter. Daughters can be pampered. You get so many types of dresses, shoes, accessories. Boys can wear a Tshirt and Jeans and that’s ok for them. For girls, you have so many options.” “You can always pamper your daughter-in-laws.” My mum teased Chachi.“Ha! Three daughter-in-laws! I hope three of them will not start torturing me! Daughter-in-laws are always an outsider. Daughter is always yours” “Yes, after all blood is thicker than water.” “Actually, I don’t believe in it. I have seen blood relations turning against each other. Families are disintegrating and turning hostile to each other. When my husband passed away, within a week his brothers started pestering us to leave the house and shift somewhere else. How would I survive with two boys and only one earning member? My husband’s brothers never even thought about Azar. He has been staying alone and sending money for his father’s treatment. Anyhow, what I was saying..Oh Yes, Daughters. Whenever I go to the market see those cute little frocks, hair bands.. I fervently wished for a daughter. When I was pregnant with Aftab, I always prayed for a daughter. “My mum was quiet. Then she confessed, “I wanted a son. Especially, when my sister in law had two sons, but then Swapnil was born. She was the most difficult thing in my life. What a pregnancy it was!  I was on the strict bed rest for more than four months. Then elective C-Section,  the premature baby. she was so weak! I still remember holding her for the first time, she was like a doll. The doctors had already told us that I should not conceive in the future. It will be too risky. So I knew that she will be a single child. Yatin never had any problem with this. He only wanted a healthy baby. I was a bit disappointed, but I was so wrong. When I hold her for the first time, her tiny eyes looking at me, searching for the love in my eyes, I just melted. I could not care whether this is a boy or a girl. She was my precious little baby. She will always be part of my flesh and blood. Then I never thought about having a son. Just this one girl and she was enough!”
In reality, the tear glands in my eyes are defective. I hardly ever cry. Aftab says I have stone heart. That might be true, but I still remember this conversation between my mum and Chachi, and my moist eyes while pretending to watch TV.
>> 
It was month of May. I had gone to meet my friend Veda. As my scooty was gone for regular servicing, I was walking home. There was somebody sitting in the park Dusk was falling and it was nearly dark. Mostly the park was used by the kids to play and then by some lovers as it gave an excellent privacy. However, today there was no couple; somebody was sitting there alone in the dark. “Swapnil, is that you?” This was Arif. “What are you doing here?” I asked him. He held up his left hand, a cigarette. “You are smoking? Seriously, I will definitely tell about this to your mother.”  “I don’t have a mother” he said very sadly. “Don’t say like that! A pathetic joke” “This is not a joke. She is Aftab’s mother.” Then I realized, he was not joking. He was pretty serious.    “What?” I sat next to him. He blew a puff of smoke. “My mother died when I was six or seven days. Obviously, I don’t remember. Azharbhai was five years old. This lady is the second wife of my father.” Whoa! This is information overload. I had absolutely no idea that Chachi was the stepmother, but then I knew this family since last two months only. “Last year I lost my father. So my current situation-No mother and no father..” ”Did Chachi say something to you?” After reading so many fairy tales and animated films I knew that generally stepmothers are evil. Chachi was such a gentle person; I could never imagine her as a bad stepmother. “That’s the problem! She never says anything to me. Even if you go now and tell on her about my smoking, I can bet that she will not be mad at me. She will try to speak with me, make me understand or reason with me, she will cry, ask herself why I am behaving like this. In the end, she will keep loving me. She will blame herself. Probably lecture me about not to smoke, but speaking very carefully. She will try not to hurt me, not to make me feel that I am her stepson. If Aftab would have done anything like this” he looked at his cigarette “She would have beaten the shit out of him.”“So you are smoking.. Because you know Chachi will not scold you. ”“I am smoking because I want to smoke. I know that Ma will never scold me. I am not Aftab”“I have been in your house so many times but I have never felt that she treats you differently from Aftab.”“No, you are wrong. She treats me differently. You know, yesterday Aftab did not clean up his room, he never does it. Ma shouted at him, told him to clean it otherwise he won’t be getting his dinner. My room was messier but she didn’t say anything to me. Came into my room, cleaned it up and told me to come for dinner. She will not shout or slap me. She will talk to me as if I am her only son. That’s what irritates me most” “Chachi really loves you!” I said to him. Still, I could understand what was bothering him. “I know that she loves me. I was three months old, when she became my mother. When I was a kid, I never knew that she was my stepmother. She argues with Azar, scolds Aftab, but not me. Sometimes, I wish… I want her to behave with me like my mother,  the way she treats Aftab. Not by taking care of me, but by being stern with me.” I didn’t know what to say. For me, this was completely unexpected. What could I say to make him feel better? I have never been a great talker and situations like this were completely new to me. “I feel very lonely”. He added after another smoke. This part was at least very true. They have relocated just after finishing his HSC exam. He was complete stranger in the city and had no made friends with anybody” “Why? I know Aftab is completely useless as a friend.” He smirked. “But, you have me as your friend. Also, wait till the college starts, you will make many friends.”“I think, I was better in Pune”“Then go back to Pune for further studies, you can stay in a hostel.” Actually, Pune is known for its educational institutes. “Just wait for the HSC results”“I don’t have to wait for the results. I know I am going to fail” His voice was very slow, whisper-like. “Don’t say like that.” “Swapnil, my father expired  before my exam. Fifteen days to be precise. Even before that, he was hospitalized, and it was pretty stressful.  The entire home was so tensed. Ma was emotionally wrecked. I could not concentrate on my studies. I know I am going to fail” “So what? You can appear in October, and get good marks” “Dekhenge! Go home, your mum might be waiting” “What about you?”“I will come after some time” I saw an entire pack of cigarettes in his other hand.“Are you going to smoke all these cigarettes?” “Oh God! No! What do you think I am? A chimney? I will sit here for another five minutes.” I started towards the exit of the park. Suddenly Arif called my name. I turned back. “Swapnil, right now here you told me that you are my friend. Right?” his serious voice was gone, and now the ever mischievous Arif was talking to me.  “Of course!”“Then friends never sell secrets of each other. Right?”“Of Course. I will not say anything to Chachi.”“And to your mother as well!”“Definitely.” “Promise?”“Pakka Promise”And, I have been true to this promise till today. I haven’t told about Arif and his smoking to anybody. Not even Aftab. Not that it mattered; Arif decided to break all the promises and left us rather abruptly.
Yet, this particular spot in the park became our favourite. We both used to sit there and discuss about many things. Aftab rarely joined us. He used to get pretty annoyed with our silly jokes and laughter. His bookish discussions were boring for us. Arif and Aftab were always teasing each other.
The results were declared within a month and Arif had failed in two subjects. Everybody was expecting something like this, and Chachi did not say anything to him. She made his favourite dessert- Kheer even before the results came and told him study hard for the next year. Aftab told me that Arif was one of the brightest students of the batch and would have got decent marks. However, the circumstances were not in his favour. On the day of the result, he locked himself in his room. Chachi was worried, Aftab kept calling his name, but he didn’t open the door. I went to their home and called Arif. He opened the door when I threatened to call my dad. Dad would have definitely broken the door. “What?” he snarled. “I was only trying to be alone for few hours. I have failed a major exam.”“So? Have you seen Chachi? She is worried sick because of your tantrums?”“I was not going to commit a suicide!” “Thanks for the update. Now let’s have some lunch.” I replied.  We all went to the beach that evening. My mum had a tiny heart attack when I asked for a plate of Panipuri. Aftab and Arif were roaring with laughter when I told them I never had a Panipuri. My mum used to make this tasty street food at home. I was never allowed to eat outside food. Especially the unhealthy junk food. It was very tasty but very spicy. I could not even eat a single plate of Panipuri. Aftab finished it for me. “Arif, you will get first class next year. I am very sure” I told him while returning home. He didn’t reply for a beat. Then he said “I will not be appearing for any exam in this lifetime” >>>>>>>>>>>>> My ninth standard classes started regularly. I was going to school on my scooty. Now , this was strictly illegal as I was underage for a driving license. But who cares? My father owned half of the town and no cop or any other officer has the guts to stop me and ask for a license. My mum was not very happy with this travel arrangements but dad was ok with it. “Let her get some traffic sense, and next year she can learn to drive a car” he told mum. She was not satisfied by this solution. She wanted a driver for our car. Aftab used to go to school by walking. He decided not to take school van facility. My mum suggested, “Why don’t let him drive the bike and both of you can go to school together?” Me and Aftab. On a bike. To school. Sometimes, I wonder whether mum had completely forgotten about her teenage years. What a nightmare it would be for me! Not that Aftab was interested in coming to school with me. The guy was arrogant in the school. Even if see each other around school building, he would never give out a polite smile feigning that we are complete strangers. Arif went to Pune to get his leaving certificate and other documents. He got an admission for HSC in our town. He was not very happy here, he was always distracted. Every other weekend he used to go back to Pune to meet his friends. Chachi never liked that he was staying at his friends’ place. He was also not very much interested in his studies. Aftab was doing splendindly in his new school. After a month of the school, the toppers were selected for a special batch. Somehow, the school authorities decided that this will be a Co-ed batch. Aftab had excellent grades from his previous school, and he was a scholar studious kid. No wonder he was selected in this topper batch. From our girls’ school Veda and Prerana were selected. No chance for me. I had never scored out of marks in any subject. Yet, Aftab started giving me the notes from this special batch to me. The teachers were rushing fast for this batch (No P.E. classes, no any other extracurricular activities etc). They had a weekly test for every subject. Aftab gladly shared the test papers (along with the answers!!) with me. Chachi and my mum might be friends in real life, but they had also become rivals in the kitchen. Both used to watch Sanjeev Kapoors Khana Khazana with complete attention and recreate those amazing recipes in their kitchen. Personally, I had no problem with this. Apart from some impromptu enforced trips to the neighbourhood grocery stores. Whatever was prepared by both of them, was immediately shared between me, Arif and Aftab. Arif had a strong sweet tooth. Desserts were his favourite. Aftab always liked his food spicy. I was a not a very picky eater. I still am not. Loved anything and everything made by mum or Chachi. Arif has kept some bricks on the either side of our shared compound wall, making it easier for us to move between two homes. Chachi had a green thumb. She revived the garden with her magical touch. Chachi has planted many flowers plants, herbs and kitchen vegetables in this garden. My bedroom window opened in front of the flower patch. The roses bloomed in the monsoon, and the smell carried in the breeze till my room. These were not typical hybrid roses. Chachi explained me that the particular breed was very rare and had incredible fragrance. The duty of watering the entire garden was given to Aftab. He had planted a hibiscus and Zinnia. I never liked these flowers, they might have bright colours, but there was no fragrance.
>>>>>> One day I was playing games on my computer when my mum called me. Arif had invited me to his home for some urgent work. It was a rainy Sunday morning.  When I reached in their kitchen, it seemed like these two guys were plotting a plan for world domination. There were several noted on the dining table along with some books. Also, some color pens, pencils, erasers and sharpeners. You know your regular cooking stationary items. Both brothers were discussing something seriously.  They did not even realise that I had entered in the kitchen. “Hey, what happened?” I enquired. “Swapnil, thanks for coming. Chalo, Let’s start working” Mr. Geek declared. Without even uttering a word about whatever we were “working” Luckily, Arif saw confusion my face and elaborated me on their plan. Today was Chachi’s birthday. She had gone to some relatives place and will be returning before lunch time. Her sons wanted to make a surprise lunch for her- Biryani, raita and a cake. The ambitious plan was already made and the preparation was in full swing. But why exactly they needed my help?“We both know you can’t cook even to save your own life. So, we will not ask you to help us” Aftab proclaimed. “Just sit here on the chair and keep reading the recipe, so that we will not forget any step. Whenever a step is done, tick mark it. Do you think you can manage that?” “I can try” I mocked back. “Good! So, let’s start working.”  Arif had already marinated the chicken pieces in the spices. Apparently, Chachi loved mutton biryani, so Arif wanted to prepare it. Aftab decided against it, by saying preparing Chicken Biryani will be simple. “That’s good. I don’t eat mutton”  I told. Arif was working at the kitchen counter and suddenly looked back at me. “What?”“I have never tested mutton. But I love Chicken.” I replied. Arif looked at me and then chuckled.
The plan was to make chocolate cake, but again Aftab changed the menu. “Plain Vanilla cake! Swapnil won’t eat chocolate cake” he fussed. “We are celebrating Ammi’s birthday, not Swapnil’s” Arif hit back. “Come on! She would not mind what kind of cake we are baking.” Aftab replied seriously. Arif smirked at me. I read the next instruction. “250 grams of plain flour.” Now this was a challenge. There was at least 2 kg of Maida but how to separate exact 250 gms from it? We were making a cake for the first time, so getting exact amount was very important. After five minutes of debate and some ridiculous suggestions of how to measure 250 gms, Aftab decided to visit the grocery store and get 250 gms of flour, sugar and butter. 

The rain was still pouring when Aftab returned on my scooty. He was drying his silky jet black hair by a towel when I suddenly remembered that my mum had a kitchen scale. He was so irritated with me. The next challenge was how to decide which rice was Basmati rice or biryani rice. I tried meekly by advising that long grain rice is Basmati. Aftab fumingly ignored my suggestion and called mum. She was more than happy to help or rather send us all out of kitchen. She solved many problems. Eg,. What do you mean by ribbon consistency for the cake batter? Aftab was thinking of spreading the batter on the dining table to see whether it spreads like a ribbon. Mum laughed at the idea. 

I made biryani recently for my colleagues  in the university. I had help of Jadoo (on the phone), youtube videos and recipes and tips from the various websites. When that biryani was put on the dum, the spicy aroma wafted through the kitchen, I sobbed involuntarily. In my brain, cooking biryani smell has always been associated with this day. I try not to remember Arif, but biryani always invokes his memory. His genuine sweet smile, wiping beads of sweat by back of his hand, tasting the cake batter and then joking that it requires some chocolate as well, interfering between Aftab and me , enjoying our cat-fights and taking a role of peace-maker to himself. My first friend. “Swapnil, next time we will make Biryani in the garden. Azarbhai will be coming next month. He is the best cook in our family. His special biryani is very famous.” Arif told me. “Really? A better cook than Aftab! That is a great thing to achieve.” I taunted. Unfortunately our hero was too busy in dicing the onions to reply me. What I did not know at that time, was Azar never cooked any meat. He made veg biryani. Always. Once the cake was safely in the heated oven and Biryani was on dum, we were almost finished. The entire kitchen was mess, so we tried to tidy it up. Apparently, it looked messier. Also, we were really exhausted by our efforts. Mum got some hot parathas and curd. We were waiting for Chachi to return, as it was still raining heavily, she might be waiting for the rains to stop. We were playing card games when Chachi returned at around two. Even before entering the home, she was suspicious of our smiles. “What have you done?” She asked. We started singing Happy Birthday To you in chorus. Chachi was almost in tears by looking at our lavish spread of three dished. The cake was baked to the perfection and Biryani was delicious. Mum also got some sweets and the birthday was just perfect.
After many many years, I told Aftab that if I get a time-turner in my life, I will return to this day. This was a fantastic day. The rains, the blooming gardens, three friends cooking a surprise lunch, the taunts, the verbal spats.. Everything was just perfect. The moment when Chachi patted Arif’s shoulder and told him that he is the best son, I saw how his eyes were moist. Aftab looked at me when I told him that cake is really good and he answered, “That’s my reward!” and smiled.
 But then, there is no thing called as “forever”.



(To be Continued) 

PART 1

I don’t like to talk about myself. Actually, there is nothing much to tell. Apart from my name and my education. What more I can say? I am still a student, trying to get a PhD in botany. Not in any relationship. No passionate hobbies etc, but I will say what one can always safely say in their resume- Reading and listening to music. 
My mother keeps sending my bio-data everywhere for the match making. This document includes my horoscope, my education details and short summary of my house-hold skills. A really short summary as I am not very good or keen on managing a home. I cannot become a home-maker. In a typical Indian arrange marriage, the boy should be from our caste, he should be well-educated, and of course, should earn more than me. Anyways, I just earn my stipend, so income clause is no good. The education part has become trickier. Nobody wants a scholarly wife. 
If the truth be told, I am simply not interested in these so-called marriageable guys. Don’t get me wrong, I am not against marriage. I would like to get married some day. Not now. Marriage is just a convenience. I have had my share of love and heart break. That’s enough for a lifetime. Let’s not go there just now. So what was I saying? Oh, yes. I am into old Hindi songs. Even now, when I am writing on my PC, “Mai Piya Teri Tu Mane ya Na Mane” is playing, Lata has such a divine yet playful voice. Now, for the reading part, I read mostly scientific journals and books. Hey! I am a nerdy girl. Apart from those very technical books, I prefer reading fantasy fiction. Real life is very boring, cannot read again in the books about it. I am huge fan of Harry potter- The books of course!Not those pathetic movies- Please! Ok! This was all about me. There is nothing more to tell. 
Still, I am writing this. I don’t know why. Why am I telling about myself? I do not have an answer to this question. Actually, I do not have answers to many questions. Yet, I want to tell something. I believe that everyone has a story, but it is never his or her story. The story belongs to every character from that story. I might be writing my story from my perspective. Nevertheless, this story also belongs to Jadoo, Aftab, My mother, father, Kedar and Nidhi... even Martin also. 
Let me tell you about all these people.


My love for the old hindi movies and songs is a gift from Jadoo. That’s not his real name. I am the only one in this entire universe can call him Jadoo.. Once, Aftab called him Jadoo- but he strictly forbade him. “Only Swapnil can call me Jadoo” he said in his affectionate yet stern voice. Jadoo has a great collection of music. Some of these songs are very rare. He transferred his father’s (or grandfather’s!) collection from records to cassettes, and then converted them digitally into CDs. He has a youtube channel where he has uploaded most of his collection. He also blogs about music of bygone era. He does not only listen to the music, but know the story of the song as well. Discussing old Hindi movies with him is just a delight for me. He is more interested in the lyrics of the song. I love his recital of Urdu poetry. I learnt Urdu from him. Okay! He tried to teach me Urdu, but somehow I could never learn it. The script was very difficult for me. Still, I will be always grateful to Jadoo! Countless nights I have spent listening to Lata and Rafi! 
Aftab introduced me to the world of books. I am not a very reader kind of person. Yet, during the most testing time of my life, the books have given me solace. Aftab is a voracious reader. When he was young, he used to read a book per day. He would tell me what he had read and what he liked or not and then I tried to read what he has read so that I could argue with him. Our affair ended on a very sad note, but the love for books continued. 
My name is Swapnil Gauri Yatin. Not an official name, but this is my social media name. I don’t use my surname, it is dreadfully long and hard to pronounce. Typical Marathi surname! My first name is very boyish. In fact, most people think that Swapnil can be only boy’s name. During pregnancy, doctors had advised my mother that she won’t be able to carry another pregnancy. So, I am an only child. My mother wanted a son. She had me. Don’t think that my mother was disappointed and all that. She was happy. She loves me a lot. I am an apple of her eye. 


I was a fragile baby. When I was a toddler, I was hospitalised twice and there was no guarantee of pulling it through. Once, I had a very high fever and it went in my brain or something. The doctor said this might affect my aptitude. Thankfully, my mother took it very seriously. Very seriously! I was never pressurised for my studies. My mother had given a strict warning to my every subject teacher about my frail health and hence no homework for me. No tuitions either. My mother used to teach me every day. She always thought that after completion of my school, I will go for easy courses like Arts. I might do a degree like BA. Having a BA does not guarantee you any jobs or career, but it ensures good place in marriage market. 
My mother came to know that I have a very good intellect after my SSC exam. I scored more than 85 % (Actually its 85.4%!!) in my board exam. I knew that I can score as much I aim. Why bother to enter in a rat-race in your fifth-sixth standard? As a typical Indian kid, my study included writing assignments, mugging up the answers and write exactly word-to-word in the exam. That’s how you score well in exams. I always aimed for the get minimum percentage. Things changed when Aftab and I started studying together. Rather than mugging up the answers and writing in the exams, he taught me how to understand the concept. 
My mother never taught me any household work either. It was understood that after completing my graduation, I will marry in a wealthy family. I will have servants and cooks. Now, heating my dinner in the microwave and then washing my dishes in my apartment, I laugh at this. I was raised in a good family. My father Yatin Bhau is a local politician, owner of two supermarkets, a restaurant and some other business. My father is a very rich man. He was a tough guy in his younger days. After marrying my mum at the age of 21, he became more calm- or so they say. I have never known him as a hooligan, I remember him since my childhood as a very gentle and caring person. Still, some traits are never gone. That’s why I hate my father. I hate him because he was disloyal to my mother. Whenever I remember about him and his affair, my blood starts to boil. So let’s not talk about him now. 
Jadoo always tells me that one should not hate so viciously. Well, he can advise me the way he want. He is a saint; it is possible for him not to hate anybody. He has the capacity to forgive Noori. He forgave me. He begged me to forgive Aftab and move ahead in the life. I just could not do it that time, Can I do it now… Can I go back in the time and get back with Aftab? I still wonder sometimes. But probably, no. I would like to not to change a single moment in my life. This is not a perfect life, still it is my life. 
Enough of this philosophical stuff! Let’s start with the flashback. We can shuffle the calendar pages like any Manmohan Desai film. 


I grew up in a very small coastal town of Maharashtra. Being a single child, I had everything. Though, my father had his shops in the market, our home was in the outskirts. It was a newly developed area of the town. It was a little bit away from the main city, but it was a nice neighborhood. 


The plot in front of our home was vacant; the municipal corporation planned a garden on this plant. The garden is still in the blueprints for the past twenty years. My mother has taken a voluntary responsibility to keep this plot cwell-kept. Twice a year, she pays some workers to cut the grass and clean it. The children from the colony used to play here. I was the youngest child in this colony. Also, my mother was over protective about me, seldom she sent me for outside playing. 
I was in eighth standard. Our neighbours, Mr. Shastri sold his bungalow to some property agent in Mumbai. Mrs. Shastri has passed away few months back and Sanket, Mr. Shastri’s son was settled in US. He took his father with him. The bungalow was in a great condition and fetched him good money. Baba was furious with Sanket, he would have liked to buy the bungalow by himself. Baba contacted Mumbai agent, but as it turned out, that person had already sold the bungalow to a Pune family immediately. So our new neighbors were Punekars. God bless us all. 
After a month, some laborars came and did some repairing work in and around the bungalow. 
One day, my mother told me, “Good thing somebody will be staying in this home. After Mrs. Shastri, I don’t have anybody to speak as such. Kulkarnis are out of the station most of the time. Mrs Kazi is always busy with her bank work, she will just say hi and bye!” 
I had zero interest in her gossip. I was more interested in the tasty upma made by Mum and Ducktales on TV. Let me give you piece of advice here to all the teenagers. If you want to get yummy snacks after school/college every day and enjoy it without any reprimand, pretend you are listening to your mother. Otherwise, next day your plate might have a chapatti and jam along with a warning to start the homework in the next ten minutes. “Shastri kaki was a great company for me. You go to school all day. Yatin is never home, I get bored.” Mum continued with her chitchat. 
Next day, there was another piece of news. The family will be coming from Pune within two-three days, and it was a Muslim family. 
“So?” I asked mum without taking my eyes off TV. 
“I do not have any problem with that. We already have Kazi and Akhtar family in the neighborhood. But, our kitchen windows are just bang opposite to each other. They will be cooking non-veg.” My mother is a staunch vegetarian. 
“Baba cooks non-veg in our kitchen.” 
“He just cooks eggs and chicken, that too only on Sunday. Muslims eat non-vegetarian food every day. Anyways, I should not worry too much about it. It’s not like they will be eating at our place.” 
My mother should have been a fortune teller. I told this exact sentence Jadoo after many years. He laughed. I wish he hadn’t. I felt awful after telling him, he was having lunch at my home every day. 


The transport truck brought tonnes of boxes and furniture. Looking at the stuff, I thought at least ten people were going to stay in this bungalow. That was not a problem. This was the biggest home in our colony with six bedrooms on the ground floor and four spacious rooms on the first floor. Mum had already visited the new family in the afternoon when I was in the school.
After returning from school she gave me all the update. “Poor lady! She has three children, eldest is working somewhere in Saudi, and other two are studying. She lost her husband recently. Last stage cancer! After he passed away, her brother-in-law wanted the family home for himself. It was becoming very difficult to live in a joint family for her. She spent most of her husband’s pension money and shifted to here. She is originally from this town. After marriage she went to Pune. All her relatives are here in this town.”
“Hm!” Eyes glued to the TV. Pretend that you are listening. Whenever sentence is finished, react non-verbally. 
“I met them in the afternoon. Some of her relatives have sent lunch for them. Still, home is not properly arranged. They can’t cook also, as gas regulator will be transferred in three-four days. I have already made some Pohe for them. Can you please give it to them?” I actually didn’t want to go. Aladdin is my favourite cartoon, but my mum can be very persistent. After listening to the same tape again for the third time I yielded. 
“Ok! I will go once the cartoon is over.” 
“You can go in between the commercial break” 
Some pohe is an underestimate. Mum must have cooked at least one kilogram of those rice flakes. After I looked at her apprehensively, she clarified. “It is a huge family. Everyone should get plenty.” 
The vessel was very heavy. I went to their entrance gate, but it was closed. I called out. As I didn’t know anybody’s name, I started saying “Hello, Chachi! Anybody home?”. The home was very quiet. After some time, a boy came out of the entrance. “Who is there?”
“Swapnil. I am your next door neighbour. My mum has sent me” Now the door was completely open and he came out. He was roughly around seventeen –eighteen years old. “What is this?”
“My mum has given some pohe. You might be tired after unpacking so she has sent snacks.” 
“Whoa! This much!!!”

“Please open the gate”. My hand was paining due to this extra heavy vessel. We can do the question answer round afterwards, now please open the gate! 
He opened the gate and I tried to give vessel in his hand. He said “Come in” and turned and even before he could see the vessel which I was trying to give in his hands. Thadd!!! The vessel was on the ground. All this happened within a fraction of a second. How would I know that he will tell me to come inside! I just wanted to give this vessel to him and run towards my home. Aladdin was waiting for me at the end of a commercial break. 
“Arif!” The voice came from inside. “What happened?”
“Nothing!” He picked up the vessel from the ground. Luckily, as the vessel fell down in straight way, very few pohe were spilled on the ground. 
“We have to throw it away. I will tell mum to cook something else.” I said glumly. 
“Why? The spilled pohe will be eaten by birds and insects.”
“But the vessel was on the ground. Not hygienic.”

“This place is clean enough, and the pohe were inside the vessel when they hit the ground. They didn’t touch the ground directly. So, no harm done! We should never waste the food. Come inside.” 
This house was always clean and spotless when Mrs. Shastri was alive. Now, this place should have been called a railway waiting room. Everywhere boxes and bundles. A woman was sitting on a box, “You are Gauri’s daughter?” she asked me. I nodded. Arif kept that Pohe vessel on another box. Then I realized that, it’s a table, not a box. 
“So much?” Chachi exclaimed and Arif sniggered. 
“Don’t Know! Mum has sent me,” 
“Allah!” Chachi said, “She came to visit us in the afternoon, all my other relatives were here at that time. I just introduced them to her, and she probably thought that all of them will be staying here. My relatives just came to help me in unloading and unpacking. Now they all have gone back to their homes. What to do with this much pohe? Only three of us will be staying here.” 
“Ma, the quantity was actually more than that. Swapnil was considerate enough to give some pohe to the birds and insects!” He said very solemnly and I could not stop my giggle. 
Arif had this very awful habit. He would crack some stupid jokes with a deadpan face. I would burst laughing, yet his face would be straight. 
“What is your name? Which grade?” Chachi enquired. 
“My name is Swapnil. I am in eighth” 
“Swapnil,” Chachi said affectionately. “A lovely name! I never knew that it can be given to a girl also. This is my second son, Arif. He has just appeared for his HSC exam. Youngest is Aftab. He is also in eighth standard only. Eldest is Azar. He is an engineer, works abroad.” Well, Chachi and my mum would definitely become best friends. I had absolutely no need for this information about her children and still, she was telling me everything about them.. “Aftab has been enrolled in Saint Joseph’s. You are in which school?”
“The same. But I am in girls section.” Saint Joseph’s had two sections. The convent first started only girls’ school in the last century. Then, they started co-ed section few years back. The school authorities must have realized that girls and boys can study in one shared classroom. “Both schools are in the same premises.” 
Arif came out of the kitchen and gave me a chocolate bar. I took it and said thanks. 
Chachi continued. “Aftab has gone to his Mamu’s place. He will be coming here tomorrow. You both can go to school together.” 
Oh! My! God! Chachi surely cannot think that I will walk to the school with a boy, that too from Co-ed section. The schools might have same name and nearby buildings, but there was a keen rivalry between co-ed section and girls’ section. We never ever spoke to the co-ed students and vice-versa. Also, what will my friends say if I started coming to school with some weird boy. I had yet not even met this Aftab, but I knew that all boys are weird. 
“When your exams will be over?” She asked.
“Next week” 
“Aftab finished his exams this week, and then we shifted here. This year so many things were happening in our house, my boys just could not concentrate on the studies. Let’s hope that new place will give both of them some good opportunities.” I just nodded my head and got up. 
After coming back to my home, I narrated the entire incident to my mother. I also handed over her the chocolates given by Arif. Sorry, but there are certain things I could never eat. Mangoes and any sweets made out of milk- Kheer, Basundi, or even Shrikhand… Same with chocolate, I can’t even eat anything with chocolate flavor. Aftab always teased me about it!! He always brought a chocolate bouquet for me, and then finished it of all by himself unless of course I had my PMS. 









I learnt to ride a gearless motorbike when I was in eighth standard. This is strictly illegal, but my father was the law in our town. Dad had an old model of Scooty Pep which he rarely used. I learnt to ride it all by myself. I knew how to ride a bicycle since I was in primary school. Though my over protective mother never allowed me to go to school on a bicycle. Most of the time Dad dropped me to school on his way to work, and while returning I came by an auto-rickshaw. My annual exam was just finished so I was enjoying my vacation by watching TV, playing computer games or visiting my friends on this bike. 
Our new neighbours were very quiet. I have not seen Chachi or Aftab in this last week. I was busy with my exams and studies. I had seen Arif twice in their backyard. He just waved at me. 
The exams were finally over and I was trying my best to become a couch potato. I was a chubby girl, with complexion like my mother and features like my father. I was watching Andaj Apna Apna on the CD player. April was almost over and the heat was unbearable. I had kept the front door open. 
Suddenly somebody entered - A boy. He was skinny, Black hair, honey-colored eyes and taller than me. I tried to sit somewhat like a lady on my couch. 


“Are you Swapnil?” No hi, hello. No introductions. “You are also in ninth grade?” he demanded. 
I just disliked this boy immediately. He looked like Chachi, same features, same eyes but there was no warmth. He spoke in a very high-handed, irritating manner. He adjusted his glasses by his both hands. Just like a typical nerd, but not because he had specs. Even I had specs since last two years and nobody in their right state of my mind would call me a nerd- at that time. However, the boy in front me was the living definition of a nerd. His next sentence just proved it to me. 
“School is over and I am bored. So, I needed some help” Great! Without even telling you my name, I will just come to the point. “I wanted old textbooks for ninth grade. Also, wanted to know about good coaching classes” 

“What? You will get textbooks from the school at the start of the term.” 
“Yes” He interjected. “That will be in June! If I can get a second-hand set now, I can study during vacation. If I start a coaching class then I can cover the syllabus in the first term itself and start studying for tenth board exam in the second term.” 
Give me a break! Such people really do exist? He wanted to start studying for the board exam two years early. 
“Mum, he needs some information” I had absolutely no idea about coaching classes and syllabus for ninth grade. My mum will never think about sending me to a coaching class, you know I am a weak student and should not be pressurized too much etc etc. She always told me no matter how many marks I score, I should not take any stress related to studies. I religiously followed her advice. I was done with my annual exam and will not even read daily newspapers. 
“Would you like to have some tea?” my mum asked him. 
“I don’t drink tea” he answered again very high-handedly. 
“Give him some bournvita” I taunted him.
“No, thanks! I just had a glass of milk. No sugar and no bournvita” he mocked me back. Yuck!! Even the idea of plain milk is so disgusting for me. “I just wanted to enquire about coaching classes” 
“I don’t think any batches for ninth grade has started. Most of the school exams are not over yet.” My mum answered him. “I will ask somebody about the books from my friends. But it will take at least a week, as exams for ninth grade are still going on.”
“Oh! This is very sad. I should have got old textbooks from Pune. They are easily available there throughout the year. Anyways, I have already started a membership in City Library. I just hope they have a decent collection of books. At least I can do some extra reading in the vacations” He said unhappily.
My mother was surely impressed by this super-bookish boy. Tell me who isn’t? Apart from me, of course! 
“Aftab, Yasmin told me that you are fond of reading very much. Suggest some books for Swapnil as well. She spends too much of her time watching TV. Whenever you go to the library, take Swapnil also with you.”
I just rolled my eyes. What is wrong with her? She has recently bought some children books for me. Maya Kaki has also sent me a set of some books from Mumbai. I have not even touched them and now my mother wants me to go to the library with this book-worm. 
“Yupp” he answered and left. Thankfully, he never asked me to come with him to the library. My mum always pestered me to read some books. I wrapped these books and kept them on the highest shelf as my mark of disapproval. 




This is how we met. Me and Aftab. Nobody introduced us formally. Needless to say, I immediately disliked this nerdy boy. And at that time, I had absolutely no idea this guy will become love of my life and also cause me the greatest pain.


(TO BE CONTINUED....) 
PART 2