painting by Niharika Shenoy
From the time i was an year old, i grew up with grandpa. To me he was my whole world. I am an introvert. It was he who introduced me to the wide world of books. From then on my universe consisted of only me and my books. I did not make any friends. Then my Grandmother fell ill and was bed ridden, i was sent back to live with my parents. I was miserable. With grand pa i was the princess, with servants and a room to myself. in my mothers place i had to share space with my four other siblings. i was not even close to them. And to add to my woes, now this school.
My tear filled eyes suddenly locked into kind brown eyes full of warm reassurance. Her name was Heena and she quickly took me into her fold. She protected me fiercely from the naughty teasing boys when we were together. Heena was a couple of years older to me. Heena's schooling began late because she was a very sick child when she was young.
I hated the boys in my class and i used to sit with my body averted from them, I had another cause to fear the boys...for my mom had warned me that if she saw me with any boy or heard my name linked with any boy, she would break my legs and throw me into the sea ....my mom resorted to violence of words. I would sit very close to Heena, feeling safe and protected in her presence.If ever she was absent for any reason from the school i would panic. She in turn used to regale me with lots of stories. Heena had two elder brothers..grown up and already managing their family's textile business. She used to tell me about the weird customers to their shop. She was an excellent mimic.
whenever i used to smile , which was a very rare occurrence, she used to compliment me saying...'allah when u smile it is like a rainbow on a cloudy day.. such a beautiful thing i could write poetry'...she used to jot lovely urdu poems in my book, explaining their meaning. She used to constantly touch my eyes and lips and recite poetry..making me wonder at my looks.(Fortunately the word lesbian was not very rampant then.),while at home my mummy specifically told me i was not good looking., unlike my siblings who were extremely good looking and used to get offers to act,do advertisements. There was another reason for me to judge my looks. when i was very young about 8 years old..my fathers elder sister's son 'Jagannath' was teaching me math...and my mom casually mentioned they make a good pair they could get married...my aunt created such a furor ..'what! look at your dark and spindly daughter and look at my son so fair and good looking one has to wash their hand properly to touch him...even in your dreams don't think of alliance between them' and mom retorted...'oh she is not that ugly i can easily marry her off to a loona-langda (physically handicapped)....that scared the day lights out of me) ..gradually i realized that she recited poetry not because of my looks but because of her love for Vindoo, her childhood friend and now her love. I did not know urdu and she painstakingly explained their meaning to me...
whenever i used to smile , which was a very rare occurrence, she used to compliment me saying...'allah when u smile it is like a rainbow on a cloudy day.. such a beautiful thing i could write poetry'...she used to jot lovely urdu poems in my book, explaining their meaning. She used to constantly touch my eyes and lips and recite poetry..making me wonder at my looks.(Fortunately the word lesbian was not very rampant then.),while at home my mummy specifically told me i was not good looking., unlike my siblings who were extremely good looking and used to get offers to act,do advertisements. There was another reason for me to judge my looks. when i was very young about 8 years old..my fathers elder sister's son 'Jagannath' was teaching me math...and my mom casually mentioned they make a good pair they could get married...my aunt created such a furor ..'what! look at your dark and spindly daughter and look at my son so fair and good looking one has to wash their hand properly to touch him...even in your dreams don't think of alliance between them' and mom retorted...'oh she is not that ugly i can easily marry her off to a loona-langda (physically handicapped)....that scared the day lights out of me) ..gradually i realized that she recited poetry not because of my looks but because of her love for Vindoo, her childhood friend and now her love. I did not know urdu and she painstakingly explained their meaning to me...
Heena's neighbour and friend, Asha, knew of the love between Heena and Vindoo..Asha was a distant relative to Vindoo. She also vied for attention from Vindoo and when Vindoo talked to his mother of his intention to marry Heena,she not only objected to it, but also consumed poison when he was insistent..His mother wanted him to marry Asha.
Heena -with the shine in the eyes dulled, the spring in her footsteps stalled, she had this hunted gazelle look which hurt me so much. Her pain pierced me like a dagger. I knew i could not do anything about it, but remained silent by her side, like a sentinel. She used write heart wrenching gazals and one day in the class she cut her wrist carving a V with a half-blade...i immediately held my thumb to the cut, crying shamelessly and openly. I told her again and again it was not worth it...seeing her pain i had vowed never ever to fall in love. I had opted for science as my subject for the 11th. At the chemistry practicals lab Heena started mixing all the volatile chemicals, in spite of the warning of our science teacher,and she burnt her legs and mine too in the process. My mom learning of her behavior told me to severe by friendship with her, not to invite her to my house any more. I felt so lost and helpless. We used to spend most of our evenings together on the beach very near to our house.
Then Vindoo got married to Asha. This time round,Heena cut her wrists in the night and had to hospitalized and when she came to the class she had white bandages around her wrist. Seeing my woe begone face she used to say..my soul is dead'..'pls dont worry about me, Saritha'..Then she started having the worst time of her life. Since Vindoo's house was located very near to her own place....if at all in the evening Vindoo came out to stand in his veranda, Asha would scream at him thinking he was standing there for Heena..if he was late from work, Asha inquired whether he was meeting Heena elsewhere outside the house!! Then Asha had a miscarriage and suddenly things took a turn for the worse.they started fighting everyday and Vindoo resorted to Alcohol.
It was because of Heena that i developed a keen interest in sports and excelled in Sprint, high jump and basket ball. Heena was very tall and very good basketball player, We used to go away to different places to compete and we both always stuck to each other like siamese twins. Once when Heena was absent from school, I was chosen for an State level basketball tournament which was to be held in Delhi. Thinking Heena would join me i agreed to compete. But she was unwell and i had to leave alone with great reluctance. We got the second place which was a great victory to us.
I was happy with our victory and was bursting to share this good news with Heena. I literally flew to school that day. I saw students looking at me strangely, but it was not always that i was filled with such exuberance My eyes searched in vain for Heena. I did not find her on the desk we both shared!! Somehow the entire class was silent. The class teacher came to the class and sadly explained that Heena was no more. 'no more' was the last word i heard that day. When i came to (i had fainted in the class) i was at home on the bed.
When i was away at the games, it is said Vindoo 's mother came and talked to Heena's mother saying Heena was creating a havoc in their household. Even though Heena was not responsible for anything she had to listen to the bitter words of her brothers and parents. She was packed off to a residential college elsewhere. ..i feel so GUILTY.. I could not meet her and she went away with out a bye....
she cut her wrists again and this time there was nobody to save her. Her photograph framed by garland was all that welcomed me when i visited her house for a condolence call.
It was because of Heena that i developed a keen interest in sports and excelled in Sprint, high jump and basket ball. Heena was very tall and very good basketball player, We used to go away to different places to compete and we both always stuck to each other like siamese twins. Once when Heena was absent from school, I was chosen for an State level basketball tournament which was to be held in Delhi. Thinking Heena would join me i agreed to compete. But she was unwell and i had to leave alone with great reluctance. We got the second place which was a great victory to us.
I was happy with our victory and was bursting to share this good news with Heena. I literally flew to school that day. I saw students looking at me strangely, but it was not always that i was filled with such exuberance My eyes searched in vain for Heena. I did not find her on the desk we both shared!! Somehow the entire class was silent. The class teacher came to the class and sadly explained that Heena was no more. 'no more' was the last word i heard that day. When i came to (i had fainted in the class) i was at home on the bed.
When i was away at the games, it is said Vindoo 's mother came and talked to Heena's mother saying Heena was creating a havoc in their household. Even though Heena was not responsible for anything she had to listen to the bitter words of her brothers and parents. She was packed off to a residential college elsewhere. ..i feel so GUILTY.. I could not meet her and she went away with out a bye....
she cut her wrists again and this time there was nobody to save her. Her photograph framed by garland was all that welcomed me when i visited her house for a condolence call.
I had all the poems/Ghazals written by her but sometime during one of my absence my mother gave all my books to raddi....
Every now and then when i listen to soul stirring Ghazals Heena's memory stands out like an embossed picture in my mind. I live now with memories of my friend...
