Tsheten stared at the rickety fan whirling in a dreamy motion, pathetic from some technically unknown malfunction. Her attention turned towards lopen Treko’s doma stained lips as he narrated the legend of Drowa Zangmo. She craved for the last bell to strike and then to return to the solace of her cozy bedroom at home. Phuentsholing has never been hotter the other year. Tsheten yearned to go to her old school in Gaselo where the air was cooler even in the midst of the summer months.
Presently, her fingers were busy fiddling the gift box that rested precariously on her lap hidden under the study table. It was given to her by a stranger friend she had met two months ago. The stranger had told her that it was a prize for securing second position in class seven at Gaselo. At that meeting she was too perplexed to enquire either the strangers’ identity or how he knew about her class results. An overwhelming shyness numbed her tender lips into a stammer of inaudible s of gratitude. That had been a second encounter with the stranger in two months and it had been her only mysterious secret.
The first encounter had happened at the super market in Jaigoan where the stranger helped bargain for the jersey she was buying on a Sunday afternoon. He had paid for the auto rickshaw on their return to Phuentsholing inspite of her reluctance. The only person she confided to was her desk mate and best friend Neelam Rai. Tsheten did not tell her mother for fear of being reprimanded for befriending a stranger and receiving a gift. She knew her mother any parent would not accept such discreet relationship in young girls.
On her way home that afternoon, she opened the box to find two pairs of Milky Bar candies and a pilot pen. She shared the candy with Neelam. She had never got surprise gifts before and so it made her life more fairy tales like with little surprises.
That night, with reluctance and shame glistening in her eyes Tsheten told her mother about the man she encountered at the Super Market. She knew that hiding the matter and playing cat and mouse could put her into deep trouble.“ Ama, He gave me this today,” Tsheten confessed brandishing a silver coloured pilot pen in her fingers.
‘Do you know him well?’ Mother question, her ageing eyes squinting more in apprehension than in wonder.
‘Not, not everything Ama, we didn’t talk in detail.’ Tsheten sighed innocently.
‘Have he been seeing you frequently? Mother asked, holding Tsheten’s hands to her bosom, as if to coax more truth from her daughter.
Tsheten flicked her eyes in guilt, ‘ Ama, the first time I met him was at Jaigoan; but it was a casual and coincidental encounter. ‘
‘What did he ask you? Did he touch you?’ Anxiety beat in her heart. Lemo had always believed that Tsheten was a responsible girl. The hopes began to crumple on her.
“He asked about father and mother and what I was doing.’ Tsheten narrated.
Lemo had read in the recent Bhutantimes paper about the murder of a school girl in Paro by a man who gave her ride home. The Kuensel had a story few weeks before about a boy who was kidnapped and sold to a Land lord in Sikkim. Gruesome stories flooded her memories. Lemo regretted for having brought her only daughter to Phuentsholing despite knowing the vulnerability of peer influence and its insecurity. Lemo had never felt herself secure since her husbands’ transfer from Gaselo to the metropolitan.
Suspicious to the bone, she asked, ‘Can you describe this man, Tsheten?’
‘He is tall and wears dark spectacles. I saw a bluish birthmark across his left brow-‘ Tsheten described with the wave of her hand. Lemo’s heart almost skipped a beat, throttling her in the windpipe. Thoughts went blank and lips turned numb.
‘…and there was an inch long scar on his chin.’ Tsheten continued as her mother watched with an Owl’s gaze oh her. Lemo was exasperated at how unscrupulously observant her daughter was.
‘Do…do..you kno…know his name Tsheten?’ Lemo was almost yelling, ‘and his number.’
‘ No I don’t. But he knows my name? He said he do not carry a phone’ She replied innocently. She did not even doubt her friends who could have told that man her name. Lemo held her by her shoulders and pulled Tsheten closer to her as if to comfort her only daughter from the rain of questions she asked.
‘Tsheten; don’t tell this to father. He will be annoyed at you for making friends with a stranger.’ Lemo said reassuringly. Tsheten nodded affirmatively. It was the first time Tsheten saw her mother so pale and dumbfounded.
Lemo spoke with a whisper in Tsheten’s ears, ‘see, next time if you meet him invite him for tea.’ The silence that followed was interrupted by the water that gurgled from the kitchen proclaiming its arrival for the evening. Lemo stood and left to the kitchen. Tsheten was confused. She wondered if her mother was plotting to call police to apprehend the stranger if he came home for tea.
‘Ama! I thought you were unhappy about this………?’ Tsheten asked. Lemo replied from the kitchen, ‘if he is a good man he will come, otherwise not at all.
The rain showered as if angry against the night which came stealthily over the bustling town. When Lezang,her husband reached home mother and daughter were already in deep slumber. The door was not latched, but the lights were on. That night Lezang saw the two sleeping together on their master bedroom. He resigned to the altar-room for the night for a change.
On a drizzling Saturday afternoon in October, few months later, when Tsheten and Neelam were returning home after school, a taxi halted with a screech near them. They jolted upon their feet like two kitten frightened by the bark of a dog.
‘Oiii! Tsheten! Going home?’ Behind the wheel was a stranger, the man with the birthmark on the brow. Tsheten smiled timidly from under the rim of her pink umbrella.
‘Come on, I will give you two a life..get in. I am going that way too.’ He insisted with a provocative gaze. A Land cruiser from behind honked for a pass. Without a second thought they jumped to the rear of the car. It was better than walking in the splashing puddles.
‘Is your father home?’ He inquired curiously.
‘No. He went to Bangkok for two weeks now. Mom says he may return anytime this week.’ She replied casually.
‘Tsheten, It is your birthday today, isn’t so? The 15th year. ‘It was a surprise for Tsheten
‘ How did you know that?’ She asked, feeling nostalgic about her toddler days.
‘Your friend at Gaselo told me, a daughter of my business partner.’ It was unbelievable that the man she assumed to be a stranger was becoming stranger every time they met. Even as she was brooding on her last birthday celebration at Gaselo the stranger proffered her a glistening red package adorned with a yellow sparkling ribbon. ‘Here- This is for you, a gift from a friend.’
Like a three year old girl receiving a Barbie doll,Tsheten took the captivating gift without a word of gratitude. She was flabbergasted for any words to thank him. Neelam blinked at them, bewildered at what was happening before her.
‘Aue….if you don’t mind, my mother told me to invite you for tea this time. She will be pleased if you came home for a while.’ Tsheten invited as they reached near the colony gate.
‘ Not today Tsheten,’ he replied with almost a stutter in his voice, ‘ I have some important family business at the Zangdopelri this evening. ‘ He handed her a brown envelope to be given to mother as a token of gratitude for befriending her daughter.
‘See you next time. Study well and be good to your parents all the time.’ He said as he slowed the car to a halt by the NPPF colony gate. The girls alighted and watched him drive away leaving plumes of exhaust fumes behind over the road.
‘You know what? You resemble him, especially when you smile.’ Neelam suggested with a note of humour in her tone.
‘Do I? Tsheten laughed, ‘maybe that is why he is after me. May be he lost a daughter who looks like you.’ She said more to herself than to Neelam who was already walking away towards her residence. Tsheten waved goodbye and ran home in the showering rain with the yellow ribbon flailing under her armpit. She had a story to tell her mother again.
Tsheten sat on the sofa and called her mother. She told mother about the birthday gift and gave the letter. ‘He said he was busy mom. He will come next time.’
Lemo tore the letter with shuddering fingers as if anticipating a sinister message. Inside there was a photograph of a monk, the man with the birthmark and a scar.
‘That is the man who gave me this today—the stranger.’ Tsheten yelled from behind, dangling a golden timepiece from her forefinger. It was her birthday gift. ‘But he was in orange sport tracksuit when we met.’ She blurted in confusion.
Lemo felt her heart race faster. Her face was effusing with warm blood. She knew her past could haunt her forever if she did not tell her daughter everything. As she read the letter the hidden past streaked through her hazy memories and tears welled up in her eyes. It read: ‘Dear Lhamo,my only Lemo, decade has passed without a word. Since the time you left me I was unable to live successfully, gnawing on the painful separation from the one I loved first and most.’ The words echoed from the past in waves of emotions. Lemo tried to hide tears from Tsheten who sat innocently watching her mother become stiff and pale. ‘ ‘am a monk at Namdroling Nyingma Institute in the remote part of France. I may not be able to see you two anytime soon. I shall be grateful to you for my daughter.’She bit her lips and sighed trying to effuse a smile when she looked at her daughter. It was a smile of madness longing for redeeming whatever past fleeted through her mind. ‘You know Tsheten is just like you, pretty and demure. You are a great mother.’ Signature had changed but the hand writing still seared her heart like a denial letter from a lover.
Lemo fell to her knees and embraced Tsheten with an unforgiving strength from the past. They cried, mother and daughter, to the last of their feminine tears.
‘I have a story to tell…………’ Lemo stood up and looked out of the window. The rain had ceases to a silent melody of the night. The breeze fluttered through the banana leaves rustling her to the present. She gazed into the starless sky and smiled mournfully for the second time in a decade.
Presently, her fingers were busy fiddling the gift box that rested precariously on her lap hidden under the study table. It was given to her by a stranger friend she had met two months ago. The stranger had told her that it was a prize for securing second position in class seven at Gaselo. At that meeting she was too perplexed to enquire either the strangers’ identity or how he knew about her class results. An overwhelming shyness numbed her tender lips into a stammer of inaudible s of gratitude. That had been a second encounter with the stranger in two months and it had been her only mysterious secret.
The first encounter had happened at the super market in Jaigoan where the stranger helped bargain for the jersey she was buying on a Sunday afternoon. He had paid for the auto rickshaw on their return to Phuentsholing inspite of her reluctance. The only person she confided to was her desk mate and best friend Neelam Rai. Tsheten did not tell her mother for fear of being reprimanded for befriending a stranger and receiving a gift. She knew her mother any parent would not accept such discreet relationship in young girls.
On her way home that afternoon, she opened the box to find two pairs of Milky Bar candies and a pilot pen. She shared the candy with Neelam. She had never got surprise gifts before and so it made her life more fairy tales like with little surprises.
That night, with reluctance and shame glistening in her eyes Tsheten told her mother about the man she encountered at the Super Market. She knew that hiding the matter and playing cat and mouse could put her into deep trouble.“ Ama, He gave me this today,” Tsheten confessed brandishing a silver coloured pilot pen in her fingers.
‘Do you know him well?’ Mother question, her ageing eyes squinting more in apprehension than in wonder.
‘Not, not everything Ama, we didn’t talk in detail.’ Tsheten sighed innocently.
‘Have he been seeing you frequently? Mother asked, holding Tsheten’s hands to her bosom, as if to coax more truth from her daughter.
Tsheten flicked her eyes in guilt, ‘ Ama, the first time I met him was at Jaigoan; but it was a casual and coincidental encounter. ‘
‘What did he ask you? Did he touch you?’ Anxiety beat in her heart. Lemo had always believed that Tsheten was a responsible girl. The hopes began to crumple on her.
“He asked about father and mother and what I was doing.’ Tsheten narrated.
Lemo had read in the recent Bhutantimes paper about the murder of a school girl in Paro by a man who gave her ride home. The Kuensel had a story few weeks before about a boy who was kidnapped and sold to a Land lord in Sikkim. Gruesome stories flooded her memories. Lemo regretted for having brought her only daughter to Phuentsholing despite knowing the vulnerability of peer influence and its insecurity. Lemo had never felt herself secure since her husbands’ transfer from Gaselo to the metropolitan.
Suspicious to the bone, she asked, ‘Can you describe this man, Tsheten?’
‘He is tall and wears dark spectacles. I saw a bluish birthmark across his left brow-‘ Tsheten described with the wave of her hand. Lemo’s heart almost skipped a beat, throttling her in the windpipe. Thoughts went blank and lips turned numb.
‘…and there was an inch long scar on his chin.’ Tsheten continued as her mother watched with an Owl’s gaze oh her. Lemo was exasperated at how unscrupulously observant her daughter was.
‘Do…do..you kno…know his name Tsheten?’ Lemo was almost yelling, ‘and his number.’
‘ No I don’t. But he knows my name? He said he do not carry a phone’ She replied innocently. She did not even doubt her friends who could have told that man her name. Lemo held her by her shoulders and pulled Tsheten closer to her as if to comfort her only daughter from the rain of questions she asked.
‘Tsheten; don’t tell this to father. He will be annoyed at you for making friends with a stranger.’ Lemo said reassuringly. Tsheten nodded affirmatively. It was the first time Tsheten saw her mother so pale and dumbfounded.
Lemo spoke with a whisper in Tsheten’s ears, ‘see, next time if you meet him invite him for tea.’ The silence that followed was interrupted by the water that gurgled from the kitchen proclaiming its arrival for the evening. Lemo stood and left to the kitchen. Tsheten was confused. She wondered if her mother was plotting to call police to apprehend the stranger if he came home for tea.
‘Ama! I thought you were unhappy about this………?’ Tsheten asked. Lemo replied from the kitchen, ‘if he is a good man he will come, otherwise not at all.
The rain showered as if angry against the night which came stealthily over the bustling town. When Lezang,her husband reached home mother and daughter were already in deep slumber. The door was not latched, but the lights were on. That night Lezang saw the two sleeping together on their master bedroom. He resigned to the altar-room for the night for a change.
On a drizzling Saturday afternoon in October, few months later, when Tsheten and Neelam were returning home after school, a taxi halted with a screech near them. They jolted upon their feet like two kitten frightened by the bark of a dog.
‘Oiii! Tsheten! Going home?’ Behind the wheel was a stranger, the man with the birthmark on the brow. Tsheten smiled timidly from under the rim of her pink umbrella.
‘Come on, I will give you two a life..get in. I am going that way too.’ He insisted with a provocative gaze. A Land cruiser from behind honked for a pass. Without a second thought they jumped to the rear of the car. It was better than walking in the splashing puddles.
‘Is your father home?’ He inquired curiously.
‘No. He went to Bangkok for two weeks now. Mom says he may return anytime this week.’ She replied casually.
‘Tsheten, It is your birthday today, isn’t so? The 15th year. ‘It was a surprise for Tsheten
‘ How did you know that?’ She asked, feeling nostalgic about her toddler days.
‘Your friend at Gaselo told me, a daughter of my business partner.’ It was unbelievable that the man she assumed to be a stranger was becoming stranger every time they met. Even as she was brooding on her last birthday celebration at Gaselo the stranger proffered her a glistening red package adorned with a yellow sparkling ribbon. ‘Here- This is for you, a gift from a friend.’
Like a three year old girl receiving a Barbie doll,Tsheten took the captivating gift without a word of gratitude. She was flabbergasted for any words to thank him. Neelam blinked at them, bewildered at what was happening before her.
‘Aue….if you don’t mind, my mother told me to invite you for tea this time. She will be pleased if you came home for a while.’ Tsheten invited as they reached near the colony gate.
‘ Not today Tsheten,’ he replied with almost a stutter in his voice, ‘ I have some important family business at the Zangdopelri this evening. ‘ He handed her a brown envelope to be given to mother as a token of gratitude for befriending her daughter.
‘See you next time. Study well and be good to your parents all the time.’ He said as he slowed the car to a halt by the NPPF colony gate. The girls alighted and watched him drive away leaving plumes of exhaust fumes behind over the road.
‘You know what? You resemble him, especially when you smile.’ Neelam suggested with a note of humour in her tone.
‘Do I? Tsheten laughed, ‘maybe that is why he is after me. May be he lost a daughter who looks like you.’ She said more to herself than to Neelam who was already walking away towards her residence. Tsheten waved goodbye and ran home in the showering rain with the yellow ribbon flailing under her armpit. She had a story to tell her mother again.
Tsheten sat on the sofa and called her mother. She told mother about the birthday gift and gave the letter. ‘He said he was busy mom. He will come next time.’
Lemo tore the letter with shuddering fingers as if anticipating a sinister message. Inside there was a photograph of a monk, the man with the birthmark and a scar.
‘That is the man who gave me this today—the stranger.’ Tsheten yelled from behind, dangling a golden timepiece from her forefinger. It was her birthday gift. ‘But he was in orange sport tracksuit when we met.’ She blurted in confusion.
Lemo felt her heart race faster. Her face was effusing with warm blood. She knew her past could haunt her forever if she did not tell her daughter everything. As she read the letter the hidden past streaked through her hazy memories and tears welled up in her eyes. It read: ‘Dear Lhamo,my only Lemo, decade has passed without a word. Since the time you left me I was unable to live successfully, gnawing on the painful separation from the one I loved first and most.’ The words echoed from the past in waves of emotions. Lemo tried to hide tears from Tsheten who sat innocently watching her mother become stiff and pale. ‘ ‘am a monk at Namdroling Nyingma Institute in the remote part of France. I may not be able to see you two anytime soon. I shall be grateful to you for my daughter.’She bit her lips and sighed trying to effuse a smile when she looked at her daughter. It was a smile of madness longing for redeeming whatever past fleeted through her mind. ‘You know Tsheten is just like you, pretty and demure. You are a great mother.’ Signature had changed but the hand writing still seared her heart like a denial letter from a lover.
Lemo fell to her knees and embraced Tsheten with an unforgiving strength from the past. They cried, mother and daughter, to the last of their feminine tears.
‘I have a story to tell…………’ Lemo stood up and looked out of the window. The rain had ceases to a silent melody of the night. The breeze fluttered through the banana leaves rustling her to the present. She gazed into the starless sky and smiled mournfully for the second time in a decade.
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