I missed the train and instead went to sit by the tracks, knees pulled up to my chin. It was already dark and the next train was at least an hour away; by then I imagined Mummi looking up at the clock and clicking her tongue disapprovingly while Baba glanced out of the door and said, Really, that girl…
A local express thundered past and a few passersby gave me curious looks. Strange, I suppose, to see a schoolgirl out so late. I ignored them, focusing on the trembling tracks. If I waited any longer, Mummi might peer out of the door and hail a passing neighbour, Have you seen her today? Playing with the boys again, I’m sure, and forgot the time.
The neighbours would smile and nod politely and think, that girl.
That girl, out with the boys again. That girl with the scuffed knees, torn dress and mud on her clothes. That girl, when will she finally grow up? That girl.
I angrily flicked away a grasshopper trying to sneak up my shorts. Already my clothes were a little too small and I saw people glance at the lanky legs protruding from my body. I wondered if they guessed my age.
Today at school, three of the girls locked me into the bathroom because they found me kissing Megha. It was only on the cheek but they screamed, Omg Homo!, dragged Megha away by her pigtails and locked me into the bathroom. It took me nearly half an hour to whittle away at the rusty lock with my penknife, which then was promptly confiscated by the school warden and I found myself being dragged in front of the principal to explain. Guess who got into trouble? Not them for sure.
After lunch break, Megha wouldn’t even look at me. I don’t know which hurt more.
The school must have called home by now. Mummi no longer peered through the hallway for me, anxious and fretful, with Baba giving her amused looks. Now they would be sitting at the big dining table, with an unnamed school inspector opposite them. His face was dark, in shadows, but I could imagine it. Stern and full of disapproval, Rupa has been doing naughty things…
She’s always been a good child, Mummi would say. My side first, always. A little wild but she tries. Her grades haven’t been bad-
It’s not, the school inspector would say, her grades.
Then the hallway of my mind would be flooded with tears because I couldn’t bear to imagine the rest. I got up and turned left, ignoring the shallow screech of the next train stopping. A steep hill angled to the right; I darted towards it and clambered up, dislodging grass and mud. It led down a narrow village road, to an untended field. I crawled along the mud until I found a suitably dry spot and curled up. There were mosquitoes buzzing in my ears and the light was gradually fading. I imagined them finding my body in the morning, ambulances blaring, people shouting, Mummi sobbing-
I stopped imagining and tried to sleep.
What would Megha think? She wouldn’t care. She was the prettiest girl in our class and our class leader. Didn’t stop the other girls from picking on her, of course. Class leader meant nothing more than, teacher’s pet.
I wasn’t pretty at all. It’s the honest truth, no matter how you twist it. Too tall, too thin, too many pimples. I was loud, I was moody and more importantly, I stuck out awkwardly in girl’s clothing. When all the girls’ ‘monthly problems’ started, I was the only one to constantly stain my Monday sports trousers. Over and over and over. I was all limbs and no control.
Megha and I were friends because … well we were. Two people, hated by the class, banded together for safety and, besides, I liked her. I wish I didn’t. I wish I hated her like everybody else.
I wish that when I had hugged her, she had pushed me away.
It was dark now. Across the sky the first stars were coming out. I looked at them and knew. Megha’s father was a member of the School’s Board of Trustees. He would know, if nothing else. I imagined her, distant in the classroom and I sitting on the opposite side, growing quieter and quieter. I imagined complete silence between her and me. I imagined the complete silence of the entire classroom.
I imagined my parents never looking at me again, Mummi silently handing me food, Baba reading the paper. A dinner table where I was never looked at, never talked to, left alone.
That girl.
It began to rain.
‘Rupa? Rupa!’ Drenched and cold, I was pulled up. Arms around me. I shivered and clung onto them. How long had I been out there? There was a buzzing in my ear and dimly I felt the dampness of my clothes.
‘Over here! I found her! Quickly!’ Voices fading into the darkness. I opened my eyes and looked towards the blurry streetlights. An ambulance, its light a red blur in my eyes. The stifled sound of a siren. Mummi, her eyes watery with tears, standing near it, with Baba’s arms around her shoulders. They seemed like distant mirages to me.
The man carrying me must have been running, because he slowed down and the gentle movement told me he was walking. I looked at my parents again. They weren’t moving, just standing perfectly still.
There was a shadow behind them. As we came closer, I saw. Megha’s father stood there, face stern and wreathed in disapproval.
I saw and began to cry.
*
Saswati Chatterji currently works in New Delhi and has been passionate about writing since she was young. She is deeply interested in issues related to gender justice and sexuality. She has previously been published under the name Runa Chatterjee in Daily Science Fiction.