Thanks Kalindi, Deeps, Shobi, Silky and Nahi...I'm glad that the way Onu feels came across. I loved writing his PS and PPS bits too...actually I think my favourite bits would be his letters to Taani!
And yes Kali, you hit the nail on the head about the dream and what Laboni being headless means...and I'm glad you like the woman - she and the little girl might appear in a few OSs at some later point maybe 😊
Haan Deeps, I really miss those days!!
Shobi...I know, I wanted to give him a big bear hug too
So guys...you meet Nupur in this one, and I mostly focus on Onu's puberty experiences here. I'd call him and Nupur late bloomers. I think this was one of my first ideas for the NY Chronicles...my idea for this project actually started with this one! Hope you'll like it...😊
--
Growing Pains.
Onu had an unspoken agreement with Orindam Uncle's daughter: that they should never, ever talk to each other if either of them wanted some peace of mind. It didn't take a rocket scientist to recognize that this was a classic case of intense-dislike-at-first-sight.
Nupur Basu, for one, didn't like the fact that she'd had to sacrifice her favourite of their guest rooms to him (they had three). No more would she be able to jump in and out of this room, or find solace here because this was where her mother used to come to clear her head...
For another, he was bloated human beachball who would always end up gobbling space with his size whenever they sat together somewhere. For a third, he got from her father what she'd been trying to get all these years: attention. Even if it was of the negative kind.
She believed that if she just pretended Rags didn't exist, he would eventually disappear.
This suited Onu right down to the ground. He didn't have to make any attempts to talk to her or try to like her. Having been around Taani, and around classmates who teased and prodded and poked him almost half his life, it wasn't her comments about his size - "what did they stuff your shirt with? XXL-sized pillows?" - or her comments on him being a FOB (from the way she spat it out, he was certain it wasn't a very good word, and he was too afraid of Orindam Uncle to ask) that irked him. It was that she had what he didn't.
This entire place seemed to have her name stamped on it, you could tell by the way she walked around in nothing but a t-shirt and very short shorts that she just about owned the place. These rooms were hers, this neighbourhood was hers, the man who owned the house she stayed in was not some charitable stranger staring pityingly at her.
She freaking belonged to this blasted place.
Some people just had to have all the luck. Grow up, she'd once told him. He was sure she knew as little about growing up as he did.
Nupur disliked him. What he felt for her almost bordered on hate, and he knew it wasn't fair to feel that way.
December 16th, 2000.
Mishti,
Maybe Kali Ma made sure I'd hate Nupur and she'd hate me so that I wouldn't have to talk to her. Which is a VERY VERY good thing because my voice is cracking like popcorn in a microwave and it looks like I'll never get it back. I sound like a frog.
Love,
Motu.
P.S: I woke up and found hair all over jaw and chin, and my bed looks like an utter mess. Uncle will kill me if he ever sees these sheets.
P.P.S: I still feel like a boy, though. How much longer will this being-a-man business take, I wonder.
--
As it turned out, Orindam uncle had already kept an extra shaving kit on the counter in the bathroom. Without pondering over the whys of what Orindam uncle did, Onu gingerly reached out to the shaving cream and brush, trying to remember how he'd done it the last time.
He shouldn't be this nervous about a shave.
It felt like ages ago now...even if he'd only been away for just a few months. In the mirror his image resembled a black-haired Santa Claus, and he'd lathered so much cream on his face that he'd almost nicked his chin just trying to get it off. The result was a cut that stayed for days and the mark of his father's hand on his cheek.
Oh, but the pride he'd felt that day...
Think of that, Buddhu, he told himself, keep that image in your head and your shaving exercise will go just fine!
He spread the lather all over his face with a brush, taking a little more care than he did back then. His movements with the razor now were quick, precise, sure. Too much lather was a waste, and he needed to be careful about the direction in which he moved the razor. He didn't want a repeat of what happened to him and to -
Subodh...
Onu stiffened. It had been months since he had allowed himself to think about Subodh at all, or the way he died. With that name, all the guilt he'd pushed aside in his worries for Taani and his grief over Kaka's death gushed in.
Because of me, Subodh will never get to do this in real...
Onu washed his face until it was satin-smooth: free of facial hair, free of cream, free of cuts, free of tears.
--
" - You need a writing pad? Yes, yes, I can easily arrange for another one, though I distinctly remember buying you a -"
Orindam Uncle's voice came from the study, a disinterested drone.
"Not a writing pad, Daddy," Nupur's voice was as brittle as glass, "If you'd actually bothered to notice me for once, you'd know what I was talking about. Actually, if you'd been the least bit interested in what's been happening to me at all, you'd have been wondering why I didn't ask you this earlier."
Silence.
Not a writing pad? Maybe one for sketching, perhaps.
"You...you...it's your -"
"Yes, Dad. I've gotten it now. A little late, but I've gotten it."
"When?" Uncle's voice, for once, was now soft with shock.
"Started today."
"And who -"
"My classmates, Dad. Funny, isn't it? I have a Dad at home who's bound to know everything but I found out about things like this from my friends."
A heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. I do try my best...but there are things I tend to overlook because your mother's not here and she's the only one who knew how to handle things like this."
A choked sob, and before he knew it Nupur had swung the door open and left the room.
Orindam saw Onu standing in the doorway before he had a chance to escape. Blushing and stammering, he made a move towards his own room.
"What are you doddering so much in the doorway for?" he rasped, "Come inside, Anurag."
Anurag. Uncle always called him that and he wasn't sure he liked it very much, not when it sounded too big and too grand to really be him.
Orindam Uncle gave Onu's face a cursory glance before nodding silently. "A good first-time shave. Come, sit."
Onu obeyed. Uncle pushed aside the books he was perusing for a second to look at him.
"Your body will go through a series of changes in time. Like the mess on the sheets you had made today morning."
Onu had the grace to blush.
"Just be careful," he said, his eyes softening for the first time since Onu had arrived in New York, almost as if he was the son he would never have, the son to whom he could give the talk that he should have rightfully given his daughter, "at this age there are a whole bunch of crazy things that you think your heart will tell you to do. But remember, what you think is your heart is really just your hormones, and once you go around satisfying them you feel like so much trash."
He remembered the liquid warmth he'd felt around Taani, the growl in his chest that seemed to say 'hands off, I married her'. That glow of joy that filled his entire being when he saw her safe and sound. Yet in this country who would want to believe him?
Well, what did Orindam Uncle know anyway? Soon enough, Baba would get him out of here and back home, and he'd find out for real if Taani was the partner of his heart or partner of his hormones.
"I didn't tell Nupur all this," Uncle seemed to be talking more to himself than to Onu, it was almost as if he wasn't even in the room, "And I should have. I should stop thinking that she'll stay my little girl forever."
Onu knew that he looked as lost as he now felt, he just knew it.
When Uncle finally sent him away, he faced Nupur for the first time since she'd left the study. She looked normal. Normal. As if nothing had happened in the study at all.
It hit him with the same intensity that Subodh's death had in the bathroom.
For all the homeliness of the place where she lived, she was almost as alone as he was. He didn't know whether that made him feel happy, or just worse than ever because no one in the world deserved to feel the way he did right now.
He ran his fingers across his now-smooth jaw and sighed. Once upon a time this shave had meant the universe for him. It was supposed to be big, momentous, a cause for celebration. I've become a man!
It hurt, somehow, that the sensation of running a razor across your bearded skin did nothing to you. His victory seemed so hollow, so...full of nothing.
For all that hype it felt like nothing more than another thing to do, Onu thought bleakly as he prepared himself for bed that night, Subodh must be laughing from his grave.
--
Edited by Elizabeth Darcy - 13 years ago
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