A Girl Like No One

(3)

I know I have started my novel on a wrong footing. First of all, on Google+, I started publishing the novel with the 2^nd Chapter first! Secondly, instead of writing about some great personalities, I decided to write about about someone, who is just like our next-door-neighbour. But I decided to write about her at any cost, come rain or shine. I wanted to write about this sister of mine because beneath her demeanour lies an extraordinary character, someone who deserves a bigger chunk of renown than what Life has cared to give her. We prefer to write about our politicians, the so called public servants, who sole purpose of life seems to be how to make others their servants! Some of them may be out and out corrupt. But those, who do not try to grab the limelight, are often left to the mercy of oblivion.

Anyway, to come back to my sister, the year 1980, if my memory serves me all right, happened to be an important year in her life. I can still remember that lean and thin girl with a strikingly charming face. She was totally unlike any other girls I have seen in my life. Least bothered about that dresses that she wore, I can’t recollect a single occasion when I found her, heard her asking anyone for a lipstick or nail polish or cosmetics like that. What I am trying to tell is that my sister never bothered much about her looks and all. Of course, she has changed quite a lot with the passage of time. I guess the change has a lot to do with her having worked with some of the most prestigious private institutions in Kolkata. She is no more the county bumpkin that many people considered her to be in the days gone by. I get surprised every time I find my sister dressing up for an occasion of something like that. Her sense of dressing has changed drastically, having observed some of the boarders in the schools from close quarters. Now if she is wearing a sea-green sari, you will find her adorned with matching earrings, wristband and such stuff, you know.

So, like I was telling you – 1980 happened to be a landmark year in my sister’s life. Till then she was more like a bon (younger sister) to me than the elder one that she was. She spent her time playing and enjoying life like few could do. She had lots of friends of the opposite sex and everyone seemed to like her a lot. She was also the darling Bon of the family. Starting with my Barda, to Mejda through the other brothers, down to Yours truly, she was popular with every one. Let me give you an example. In the early 70s, 41 cut a different picture all together. My ancestral was swarming with people of all ages, mannerism and faces m in those days. After school, we, all our cousins and nephews and nieces along with the friends of our locality, would spend our time playing Saat Ghoti or Thief and Police or some such games of childhood. That day while we were running all over the house, a problem cropped up between my sister and me. I being a champion planner, called out to all of them, asking how many of them wanted to join my sister’s group. One by one, all of them moved over to her side. When Rupa, the youngest of the nieces ambled across to her side, I felt something running down my spine. Only one cousin sister of mine stayed with me. The rest of the Bhattacharyyas had preferred her company to that of this schemer of a boy at that time. The fact is, she was a very popular girl during her hey days.

Now like most other girls, she was also growing up fast. Whenever I saw her talking with a boy or man, I would try to act smart. I would start making life hell for her like the proverbial younger brother. My only intension was that my sister, whom I loved more than anything else in the world, with the sole exception of my late Ma, should not fall for anyone cheap or opportunistic just like that. Many of the friends of my other siblings were quite fond of her and on their visits to 41, made it a point to chat with her. I realize now that most of them have started vanishing into thin air from those wonderful memories of childhood.

On that lazy, lugubrious afternoon, I was just back from college, preparing for my private tutor, when there was a commotion of some kind. On placing my neck against the iron rods of the window, I could see someone dressed in a white dhoti and Punjabi seating down on the chair in front of my father’s easy chair on the corridor outside Baba’s bedroom. No sooner had I run down the stairs than I could see some of my brothers and sisters-in-law in a tether of activities.

“Bappa,” one of them must have said to me, “you know who the visitor is? It’s none other than the Principal of your college.” Let me tell you in this context, that in spite of being a very mediocre student, I was studying in one of the best government colleges in Kolkata at that time, a college known as Maulana Azad College or MAC in short. On further probing, I came to know the reason why my Principal had paid a visit to 41, my ancestral home. He had come with a marriage proposal for his First-Class Engineer son with none other than one and only, my beloved sister. If you thought of a 'great catch', here was one. In those days, when parents of marriageable daughters spent their days and nights on a husband-hunting spree, how my sister seethed with anger at the news, will be the subject of my next.

(To be continued)