I was startled to see her , a total change of feelings and wardrobe, she went from maintaining braids to having long blonde hair, from cardigan to leather jackets. The first eye contact was absolutely intense , I felt my childhood coming back to me , the same blue eyes which ruled the hearts of nearly all the pupils of our town, the same lips with a tint pink of course with all the lip stuff available and I felt my heart aching for love , to go up to her and greet, say something , but my inner consciousness said , no, has she still not forgiven me? Haven't the apology letters supposed to do what they should or did I expect more from? Questions were raising in my head like a gush of water , and then the woman at the reception asked me , what my profession was , to which I replied I work in a Botany Institute , and that I had come all the way here to , examine a few tree species nearby, I saw the bewildered look on her face change to a rather calm one . The month of December had just arrived, and the Himachal region started getting colder once it was half past ten . The lady asked would I prefer coffee over tea and I said so and then approached her, asking the same , though I knew the answer to this , I couldn't say it aloud. A part of me wanted to , but I was not confident enough to make it, and she answered Coffee

It was the summer of 1995.The air was clearer and the literacy rate of women was less , unlike the death rate. The streets of Kolkata roared with big cars , rich men , merchants picking up conflicts , landlords asking for money , and vendors trying to earn their living.

Reema's house was on the 5th lane in the southern avenue , a 3 kilo meter road with a center boulevard. It was one of the humongous houses that the folks at that point of time could only dream of , large paintings of devis and the great three on the front door, Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva facing the visitants, arriving , and welcoming their presence. Townsmen believed that Reema's great grandfather had left the property for his future generations, 'Mighty rich people I should say' said my mom upon asking her whether they would ever sell it to a buyer, ' A mighty proposal might get the job done' she would add. As a kid I always used to wonder , how we could have such substantial and royal house, with a lot of men and maid working for us! Maa and Baba never told me that we couldn't have one , they always believed that attainments could be achieved through positivity , and nothing else and that someday when I grow up enough and they have aged too, we could build the house of my ,or rather their dreams, but for now the plan was to be evacuated . They raised me as a typical middle class Indian kid , with no unnecessary needs entertained , and only the bare necessities to be satisfied with. I was also taught to follow Hinduism, chanting prayers and visiting temples and ringing bells, said I would find peace , success, and all that I desire in life with a little bit of hard work , and true faith in God, and later all I found was misery.

As a kid Reema's house was a paradise for me. The stairs were nothing short of wide reaching, connecting ends just like their family . ' My family tree, that's something next to impossible' Reema would mention whenever asked bout her family members, apparently they were huge , not mentioning all the maids and the servants whom they treated as family too. Reema's mother loved me, and always expressed through her words and actions that I was like a son to her , and praised me for whatever I did including the mischiefs I used to do back then . I remember back when maa started beating me up with a bunch of drumsticks bind together , and all I could do was run to Reema's house, and hid behind her mother until maa came searching for me , 'Where is that little bustard Fatima? 'asked maa, and she replied with a calm tone almost as cold as the north Atlantic winter winds , "What is wrong ?' Maa replies " That little trot pushed a cattle leader and all his cattle ran away , he was frustrated I say you , bring that little trot to me' Reema's mother burst out laughing ,saying ' You piled up a branch of drumsticks to beat a seven year old, how silly of you" still laughing she continues, ' The drum sticks look pretty fresh , where did you bring them from?" She knew exactly how to change the conversation and make my mom forget everything within a snap.

I learned from Reema, that her dad met her mom at Kashmir. Kashmiri people believed that aunt Fatima was the most beautiful girl back in her teen's. Eye's blue with a shade of grey added, fair cheek, and a sharp jawline, everything was perfect in her face, and no wonder folks used to say that Reema took after her, it was love at first sight for Reema's father . They were very versatile family, with the least sense of political and religional judgements, which can be understood with the fact that Reema's dad being a Hindu married a Muslim, during the Indo-Pakistani war of 1971, when situations had become worse for Hindu's as well as Muslims. If you ask me, I would define her as a contemporary and revolutionary woman. She wore short skirts and tops at a time where you know having a wardrobe like this could attract people's attention and could lead to conflicts in the household, but that's who she was. I don't know a lot about Reema's dad except the fact that he was a military man who was serving at Kashmir , and most probably that's the way he crossed paths with aunt Fatima

'He is an engineer, and has begun a start-up recently 'she mentioned. I wasn't taken aback, but deep down I was totally surprised. I figured that she would end up with someone who is more practical rather than someone who is philosophical and analytical. She sipped her coffee and asked for another teaspoon of sugar cubes.The conversation started turning out to be more self-centred, she understood this and asked me "Do you remember when Amma used to prepare Tea for us, back at Calcutta?"

"How can I forget that" I replied. She dropped the sugar cubes into her cup and stared at me and shot "How could you do that to me ? I thought our love was genuine and you loved me too ,I thought you felt for me, just the way I did, you are just too bad at goodbyes aren't you? or is that another excuse I should say ? You could've jotted down a few things before u left. You contributed to nothing, you left abruptly, with me broken for the next part of my days. Were you happy when it all ended?"

There was a pause.

I couldn't carry on with something like "let me clear things up" or "I can provide you with an explanation" because honestly, I couldn't. "Moving outskirts was necessary at that point in my life, and my folks wanted me to earn a living" I replied. "You were always poor with excuses; remember when you got busted for smoking?" Her questioning nature was still the same with the identical timbre and the same grim look radiating from her face. "I am sorry". I did not have the right words to voice, to console her to the least. To apologise was the only and the universal way of saying that the deed one has done is not a good one, so I stuck to it. The atmosphere started to lighten after the smoking joke. "Amma always thought we would make a great pair, she was devastated when you left." She said with a cold tone which mimicked the one aunt Fatima mastered. "How is she?' I asked. "She is dead. A couple of months after you left, the guards found her body in the nearby ghat. She must have drowned, as claimed by the mumbling masses. I heard so when I reached the spot." "I'm sorry" I replied yet again. "Yeah,yeah enough of that for now. Sorry, huh, do you even know the weight of that word?" .I did not have an answer for the first time in a while now.

The summer of 95' saw Reema running through the verandas, chasing maids, tasting hot pickles from the rooftop, playing hide and seek as she fluttered amongst the wet sarrees that were put up to dry in the scorching Calcutta heat. A cuckoo would call for her mate , waiting on the branch of the banyan tree, viewing worshipers tie threads of love, fear and anguish onto its stem. One fine day , Reema and I were sitting on the cornfield near the ghat when she said "My grandparents want me to get married by the next couple of years, and I cannot make do with some random guy. You know it well don't you?" "yes" I replied. There was a pause amidst our conversation, but she was quick to break the ice. " I want to live with you Nischit, I can't live with some random stranger, and we also make a great pair . Why don't you just ask your parents straight away so that we can proceed as soon as possible , before my grandparents find some other old grumpy man whom I will be bound to call my husband. I have loved you ever since you were ten, you are seventeen now and can soon earn your living , I'll talk to amma too, it all just fits perfectly piece to piece , just like a jigsaw puzzle." There was another pause for a moment. I wasn't sure. Well marriage is hectic and is sizeable, its not some jigsaw puzzle and how would such a young girl understand that. Its not that I've never have had feelings for her, but wasn't this all too sudden? I asked myself. I needed to answer her with utmost care and diligence. 'I guess its not that easy , but yes it is not unfeasible either." I replied. I hesitated with each and every word . every movement might prove to be fatal, This was all too fast , I thought to myself. The cicada's kept singing during the pause. The fruit vendor passed with a sense of achievement as he had earned a decent amount the day. 'you wont do it, will you?' she asked . ' I have to move outskirts next year for further learning, probably' I replied. Tears rolled down her eyes and slithered past her rosy cheeks. This day had been waiting for us. For a whole lifetime I felt like it did, she got up, and the sound of the green grass being brushed away gave me chills, she was silent. So were we. It was noon now , and the temple bell rang ,giving us a sense of alarm. 'I should go home now, it's late already.' She spoke up after quite some time.

'Was it sweet enough?' I questioned pointing towards the mug of coffee sitting before her, she replied that it was. I wanted to ask her if she would spare some time for a drink or two, but I was confused and anguished. A few beats later, mustering up all pure courage available to one's true self I asked, "There's a bar nearby, shall we go and grab something to drink?' I asked.

"I can't "she replied.

For the first couple of moments I thought that she was possibly feeling discomfort and disagreeable , but then she spoke up "I am expecting a baby Nischit, I can't drink or smoke , the doctor has strictly restricted my movements too." I was bugged truthfully , how filthy minded was her man to leave her in this state , and without any further hesitation I asked her where he was . "He has not come home for the last couple of weeks , says he's busy in the office." She had a downcast and miserable look plastered on her face. I understood what that was about. "I am so sorry to hear that he is not providing you with enough time" I said, 'But I am sure he still cares about you' .A single tear drop abandoned her eye, similar to the one that had stained her cheeks for me at one time. They say time flies, fast enough that it wont let you get a hold of it .

"He doesn't, if he did I would receive a call every so often at minimum with him checking up on how things are going. It's just as I figured out on my first month of pregnancy itself."

'What is it?' I asked

"He doesn't want the baby now" she spoke with grief this time .

It was the late monsoon of 1999.People in the city of Calcutta were merry and joyful. The rain did good that year. A lot of forthfill harvest perhaps did the trick. The farmers were cheery because of the excess amount of sales. It was mid noon, I was busy with my studies when I heard a knock at the door , I did not move because maa had gone to fetch stuff and then the knock continued for thrice when I understood who it was . 'Oh you were studying, I see' said Reema, with a brief look. 'Yeah just my tasks as usual , 'What about you?' I questioned. 'Don't u ask your guests to come in?' she asked me back with a rather overjoyed look. 'I did not know that you are a guest now' I replied with ease. She came in and we went to the dinning room for further conversation.

Our house was not a massive one but huge enough to accommodate a family with two wards. There was a staircase which led to the one fifth floor of the building. As a kid I would always sit on the easing and always thought myself as the monarch and whenever Reema would come over she used to be the female sovereign, granting wishes and condemning the offenders. Dad built the house the first time he got a proper job in Calcutta as the official chartered management accountant for the India Bank, a couple of years prior to my birth. My mom and my dad's mom were overwhelmed, on the occasion they say. 'He used to get five hundred rupees per month which has now increased to three thousand as per my comprehension.

We sat in the dinning room and I asked her would she prefer tea over coffee. 'With extra sugar of course' she stated. Reema always liked having coffee with extra sugar although her family members were pretty obsessed about the fact that diabetes might hit her in the later stages of her life, she was not at all bothered about these.

'He is coming back anytime these days' she said.

'Oh, that's great news then' I replied. 'Your mom must be relieved with the fact that he is coming home'

She nodded her head with a sense of acceptance. 'He is returning home finally this time and will be soon taking his retirement' she added. 'He will be here at your seventeenth birthday that means' I said. 'Yes' she replied with a very calm and untroubled voice.

I handed her cup of coffee, she sipped it and smiled at me looking very pleased. She always appreciated the amount of coffee powder which I poured. She was staring at me and moved closer after her first sip.

I hesitated for a couple of seconds and asked her 'What do you want for your birthday?'

'No particular choices' she stated. I was dumbstruck for a while because Reema always preferred to ask for her gifts at the earliest and now she was withdrawing her offer, made me think about it for a while. She moved a step closer, and sat on the chair just next to mine. We were looking at each other's eyes gazing deep into thoughts, she admired my eye's like never before, I could perceive a drop of sweat move across her forehead and slip past her eerie black eyebrows. The atmosphere all around grew strained. I thought of dropping a word or two but couldn't as we were too close by then, I could feel her breathing now, and could spot the sweat droplet a little more enlarged. As we ambled towards each other, I could easily get a sniff of the freshly prepared coffee form the margin of her lips, which drew closer as the seconds passed by until I realized I was possessed by the whole situation, I felt her tongue pushing mine and her lips doing the same the very next moment, they were like a soft orchid petal , which you feel like plucking whenever you inhale the essence of it . I merely could look up to her face , but I didn't. The fright of any unpleasant look on her face bewildered me to the utmost. Her tongue wiggled and perverted around mine , made me hard to realize that this was an introductory part of her life , I tried my best to keep up , but couldn't , she was taking over , and slowly then grabbed me by my neck and thrusted it towards her , I was feeling helpless but did not want to call for one because it simply felt I was experiencing her to the fullest and to the utmost and couldn't resist the beautiful warmth of her .

There was a pause.

She mentioned that it was her first time and that she still was an armature. The air was lighter and then she left leaving away a brief smile, It took me almost a whole week to figure what happened back then.