Bolpur Blues: Episode 7

Episode 6.

The next day, I dumped classes.

Well, when you don’t get enough breakfast, the lunch is flushable, and dinner, well you better wash your hands with it rather getting it down your system, you mostly wake up weak, tired and cranky. I had headaches half of the days to up my cranky-meter.

So, most of the first classes I’d laugh a little about, turn my alarm back to off and sleep through in my uncomfortable bad pillows.

Anyway coming back to my awaken part of the day, we got a little weed again, and suddenly me and my Malayalam partner were very ecstatic about getting our butts high in the same place where we got screwed up the earlier time.

Also, it was winter, the sun shone sweet, the shades seemed lucrative, and the weed looked green.

So, there were we, four of us, three Malayalis, including the quirk and another guy my beat partner dragged with him, and me.

We went there and sat in the shade of a wall that was injected with red concrete flowers; that, with the shade, also gave us a beautiful view.

I was making us joints, while the quirk came around and sat beside.

“You like Cohen?” he asked fidgeting with his phone.

“I’m just a station on your way. I know I’m not your lover.” I sang, copying the typical Cohen baritone.

“Amazing! I love that man.” Suddenly he was gleaming.

“Well, you got some real competition here.” I winked.

After that, some hours from then, we kept listening to Cohen songs back to back, while the rest of the two Malayalis got high on weed, and me and the quirk on the lyrics in baritone.

We were walking back to our houses, when the quirk said, “There’s some whiskey in my house. You want to come over?”

I couldn’t resist the offer of having whiskey and listening to music with someone whose taste matched unabashedly with mine.

Winter, afternoon, whiskey, music; there’s not much you can do to not say a yes!

I went, and well, we didn’t drink.

We just sat on the ground, with nothing under our butts expect the cold floor, in the front porch, and kept listening to songs; his choice and my choice, alternately.

And he suddenly said, “Actually I want to kiss you. Can I?”

“Well, when did you drink the whiskey? I didn’t see.” Litmus test. All girls do it.

“Not the whiskey speaking. I’m sober and genuinely asking. Can I?”

And with all that amber-lit sky, the perfect afternoon, the music, it had some effect on me.

“Yes, but on a condition.” I said.

“And what’s that?”

“Will you stay here with me for the next one year?”

“Done. Now may I?”

What happened after that is what I remember by the best kiss I’ve had with anyone till date.

So much so, that the panting after the kiss left us on the floor and with the most comforting laugh ever!

“I really like you.” He was in sweats.

“That came fast.” I wasn’t expecting that.

“You knew it, all this time, I know.”

I laughed instead of a reply, and we kissed again.

To be continued…

Bolpur Blues: Episode 6

Episode 5.

I slept dead that night; dead from all the walks, calm from all the anticipation satisfied.

The next day was special for two reasons;

My quirk has come back, with all the weirdness I was looking forward to get entertained with.

And also, one of my favorite actor’s movie’s first trailer was releasing by 11am.

Here in Bolpur, you don’t have much to look forward to; hence you resort to things like your dog’s video call, your actor’s trailer launch, someone to do something stupid so the whole neighborhood can gossip about it for a week.

All of this typical not-asked-for lifestyle was happening to me for the first time, and needless to say, I didn’t like.

Anyway, I woke up around 10 in the morning with a phone call from the quirk, about going for lunch together.

After lunch, we sat under a shade in Kala Bhavan for a smoke.

Wintry afternoon and a tourist-crowded Kala Bhavan is an eternal love saga you’d know if you are a regular in Santiniketan.

We sat, smoked in counters, and gossiped about the tourists that believed everything the guide said, was ecstatic touching a leaf that the guide linked something with Rabindranath Tagore, but we all knew they were cleverly made lies to fool them.

Anyway, the afternoon was going smooth, in smokes, and in conversations, mostly laughing at people.

And suddenly he said, “Can you sing for me?”

“You need a song to digest the bad lunch?” I laughed and tried to shrug that off.

“Just sing, please?”

“Two lines only, Okay? I don’t want to wake up all the dogs here from their siesta.”

I sang the first two lines of a Dylan song, and in the middle of that, he held my hand.

Few minutes from then, he kept holding my hand, and that started getting a little uncomfortable, after a kid from the tourist family started staring at us.

I removed my hand, and we started walking towards the canteen of Kala Bhavan.

And just then, just when he was about to pass a tree, a thin line of waterfall happened from the leaves above.

Apparently, he missed a monkey piss by a fraction of inch.

That gave us our dull life to laugh upon for the next two days, and occasional embarrassment from his side.

Days started going on, more meals started getting done together with him, and life in Santiniketan started being a little less boring.

One afternoon I wanted to show him the place, which has been my evening regular for the last two months. So my Malayalam beat partner and me, we took him to that stretch of outgrown forest behind the theatre house.

Golden hour and that place, with all the silence offered, it catalyzed more conversations.

I don’t really remember what we three talked about, but I thoroughly remember the eyes being filled to brim with passion, and happiness.

The night closed on us, like the days here usually do.

Three drunken pairs of legs, drunk from all the golden hour engulped, we came back for a cup of tea to the marketplace.

Life started getting better here, but well, it was just all about the beginning.

To be continued...