STUPID AWKWARD LOVE

He a boy of fifteen parted the curtains of his bathroom room window, and looked at the park below. Tweaking the light moustache, which signalled that he was on the threshold of adulthood, he gazed intently at the right cornered benche where three girls were engrossed in chatting, ignoring the other two he concentrated on bob cut haired girl sitting in the centre, Pallavi, his love.

He was in the process of capturing her beauty with his eyes, “son, the milk is ready.” The sudden voice of his mother broke the hypnotic spell, and he jumped with a start very much similar to that of a thief when caught in the act of stealing. It took a few deep breaths to calm his agitated state of mind. When his heart beat got back to normal, he was on his feet and ready to do his mother’s bidding, but love overcame - and he paused to have a final look at Pallavi before parting. What he noticed took his breath away; Pallavi was looking directly in his direction. He quickly removed his lanky frame from the window. Did she notice me? He questioned. The answer “no,” came a split second later with the realization that he had left the light switch off precisely to avoid these kinds of eventualities. Understanding that his time of solace was over and his mother would be calling again any moment; he flushed the toilet, rinsed his hands, exited the toilet and descended the stairs. 

The remembrance of getting a glimpse of Pallavi milky thighs, an incident that happened a few days back; made him skip a beat and reddened his ears. He tasted the bourn vita flavoured milk sitting on the dining table. Although he had been her classmate since second standard and has progressed to ninth standard but still couldn’t muster enough courage to talk to her instead contented his heart by stealing glances from afar.

Truth be told, how courageous would one feel introducing oneself if he is not able to pronounce his name correctly. The reason of the shyness was the stuttering in his speech, predominately his inability to spell the sound r; that he had picked over the last few years. What compounded the matter was his name, Raghuvir; had two r’s. He knew that his name was one of the names of God Rama, but still, of all the name my parents had to pick that one, he thought.

“We will play a game I will write a chemical formula on the board and you will tell me it’s common name and chemical compound,” Mr Pandey Raghuvir’s chemistry teacher said, and wrote FeSO4 on the board.

Raghuvir the tallest student in the class; tried the impossible task of making his gangly body disappear, first by concealing under the desk and then hiding behind the front bencher. All his efforts came to nought as Mr Pandey caught his eye.

His palms began to sweat and feared to be singled out by Mr Pandey to provide the answer. Under preparedness for the test was not the reason, as Raghuvir had always been a good student and knew the answer, but he very well knew how the class would react once he starts to answer.

 “Raghuvir,” Mr Pandey said.  

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and reluctantly stood from his chair

“What is its common name?” Mr Pandey asked underlining the FeSO4.   

“.Grrrrrren” Raghuvir started to answer; some muzzled sounds were heard from the class “Vitrrrrrriol” Raghuvir concluded, and breathed easy, it’s done, he thought.

“Very good,” Mr Pandey said looking intently at the class and added, “now its chemical compound.” Mr Pandey asked turning once again towards Raghuvir.

 Come on man not again, Raghuvir stood silent and continued to stare at the teacher.

“Raghuvir, I know you have the answer, come on out with it” Mr Pandey said.

Believing that Mr Pandey will not let it pass, “ferrrrrrrr” Raghuvir started the answer.

The symphony of rrrrrr’s was too much and the class erupted in a cacophony of sounds, laughing and rhythmic rrrrrr’s. Raghuvir lowered his face and kept eyes glued to the desk hoping for the bell indicating the end of the class. Instead of the bell it was the booming voice of Mr Pandey, “Stop this ruckus at once, is this a class or some fish market?”  That silenced the noise.

An eerie silence enveloped the class.

“Remember to be cooperative, never become competitive with one another.” Mr Pandey said calmly, and gestured Raghuvir to proceed.

Every nerve in his body was telling him to run from the class but, “ferrrrrrrrrous sulphate” Raghuvir answered.  

“Very well, you can take your seat”

“Class have you forgotten our custom” Mr Pandey said.

The very next moment a unanimous sound of clapping filled the classroom. The boost of confidence that ovation gave Raghuvir made him face his teacher, where he detected true admiration and respect for his guts. The sustained clapping also provided him with an opportunity to look into the face of his classmates, where sadly he sensed more fake than true appreciation for his act of bravery. To his chagrin Pallavi belonged to that larger percentage.

Raghuvir with his right ear glued to the door was trying to overhear the conversation between Mr Pandey and his father. Although his teacher had beforehand informed him about the visit, but curiosity got the better of him and he wanted to know the reason of the teacher’s visit. The failure to hear peeved him, which was intensified as Mr Pandey’s arrival coincided with Pallavi’s time of arriving at the park. He checked his wristwatch made a face, and once again tried to hear the voices; still no luck. Finally deciding to give up futile quest he ascended the stairs. He had reached the halfway point, “Raghuvir, Raghuvir,” his father called.

Raghuvir stopped in his tracks.

“Raghuvir” his father called again, this time a little louder.

“Yes” he said from the stairs.

“Come to the room quickly”

He took a deep breath, and descended the stairs.  Raghuvir stopped at the mirror in the veranda looked at his hair and straightened his clothes. Then he walked towards the room, stopped at the door and knocked.

“Come in,” his father said.  

Raghuvir entered his father’s bedroom; saw his mother sitting on the bed beside his father. Mr Pandey was seated on the sofa. Nervousness enveloped him as he observed six eyes noticing his every moment. After initial lull his father informed him that he will be tutored for his conversational skill by Mr Pandey. First his mother and finally Mr Pandey re-emphasised the importance of correct diction in today’s day and age.

“Ok,” he replied, and turned to walk towards his room

“Sir, will be here tomorrow 6 pm, you get your homework done before that,” his father added.

“Ok,” he said and exited the door with all his dignity, took the first two stairs then dashed to the top, entered the toilet and bolted the door. He took his customary position, scanned his eyes and found Pallavi strolling outside the park. She wore a pink skirt and had her hair tied in a short pony. As he was admiring his beauty, a question popped out in his head, how will I be able to watch Pallavi from now? The thought lingered in his mind.

In the first class itself Mr Pandey, made it amply clear that stuttering was not a sickness but only a weakness which can be overcome by instilling confidence, the sole reason of these sessions. Mr Pandey went on to explain that his parents were concerned about his inability to communicate clearly despite being an intelligent student. Raghuvir’s teacher gave detailed description of how his teaching will be conducted; he was also provided a sheet of paper which read:

Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah.

Ree, Ree, Ree, Ree, Ree, Ree, Ree, Ree, Ree, Ree.

Rai, Rai, Rai, Rai, Rai, Rai, Rai, Rai, Rai, Rai.

Row, Row, Row, Row, Row, Row, Row, Row, Row, Row.

Ruu, Ruu, Ruu, Ruu, Ruu, Ruu, Ruu, Ruu, Ruu, Ruu; and was told to repeat it three times a day without fail.

As days passed and Mr Pandey; delved deeper into the subject. Raghuvir’s initial resistance; not being able to watch Pallavi from the window and apprehension; of the fear of the unknown were quickly replaced by his eagerness to learn and adapted accordingly to the new information. 

It was 25^th December, Sunday, three months to the day when Mr Pandey and Raghuvir had started on their quest when the first signs of improvement were visible. He could carry on the conversation with anybody; known or unknown, up to three lines without stuttering. His parents were so happy that they decided to celebrate the occasion; sweets were brought from the neighbourhood sweet seller. His mother prepared tea and some snacks. The whole family along with Mr Pandey enjoyed all the different delicacies with relish.  And his parents kept on congratulating and praising Mr Pandey for his hard work and dedication. But in truth it was Raghuvir, who was the happiest; as the new found confidence motivated him to ask Pallavi out for a date.

With life there are no favourites, it never sided with anyone in the past and will never change for someone in the future. So how could Raghuvir, who had locked himself in the bedroom for the last hour treated any different? His day which started with so much optimism had ended in disappointment. “Why Pallavi?” the two worded unanswered question forced itself out of his choked throat.  Raghuvir’s mind oscillated between the two opposing emotions, happiness; which he felt when Pallavi accepted the invitation for an outing and sadness; which he felt after her refusal to accept his offer of friendship. Those countless evening spent with Pandey sir felt futile.  The “Why” from his mouth was accommodated by a tear trickling down the check. Why the hell I made those plans, didn’t mummy tell papa the other day that most plan fails in life.

The sombre mood kept Raghuvir under his spell and refused to leave despite the repeated attempts of his mother to cajole the reason out of his mouth. Noticing his unwillingness to mend his ways he was shunted on the path to normalcy by his father who forced him out of the house with the words, “go get some fresh air.”  

Three weeks elapsed; Raghuvir still hasn’t conjured up the courage to ask Pallavi a second time; on the contrary was displaying all the tell-tales of a one sided wounded lover, sulking, jealously, irritated behaviour and taking things to heart.

It was a pleasant evening; he along with his parents was attending a marriage reception. The usually reserved Raghuvir took some time to open up to strangers was being extra cautious even to the ones he was familiar with. The festive mood and the warm vibe failed to break the aloofness, and he meandered aimlessly among the crowd lost in thought; like a zombie. All of a sudden the trance was broken by the pain of a piercing needle that jolted him back to the real world; and Raghuvir found himself bundled to the ground in a tangle of bodies; and a number of onlookers coming forward to help.

On knowing that the collider was a beautiful girl, Raghuvir’s pain evaporated and a blissful calm enveloped his being as he understood the reason of the funny sensation he briefly felt when they initial collided.   

In the melee, “blood” someone shouted. The two sprawled bodies were quickly untangled and helped on their feet.

Raghuvir was taken to room where a doctor, one of the guests; did the dressing, “he is fine” the doctor proclaimed. Afterwards he reached home where his parents gave him medicine and tugged him in bed, “good night,” His mother said closing the door.

Lying on his bed Raghuvir felt the spot on his face that the doctor had banged to make ascertain that all that transpired was real and not just an elaborate imagination of his mind. Maybe it was the medication or the magic of the unknown enchantress that sleep quickly overcame him.  

He woke up and, looked at the drawn curtains, it’s early. Then turned towards the wall clock, there still time for mommy to come and wake me up. Raghuvir took a deep breath and exhaled with a smile on his face. He got out of the bed, switched on the light and started to adjust his school bag according to the day’s time table.

There was a slight knock on his door, “good morning” his mother’s voice came through the half-open door.

He turned towards his mother, “good morning mom” he said.

 His mother walked up to him, “how’s the pain?” she asked.

Raghuvir was about to answer, what pain?  When every detail of last night’s incident played back in his mind like a movie, “I am fine,” he answered,

“Ok, you get ready I prepare your breakfast,” His mother said and walked out of the door, “Rina’s hairpin my God!” she added in a low tone as if talking to herself while closing the door.

Raghuvir overheard her, “So my enchantress has a name, Rina” he said and contemplated. The ‘r’ sound in Rina came out of his mouth perfectly, Mr Pandey’s class have not been futile after all, he thought, and went to the bathroom repeating, “Rina Rina Rina,” to himself like a table.