THREE
She remembered when she fell in love for the first time. How eager she had been, how dazzled she was. There were butterflies all around, even inside her stomach. Everything made her smile, even her Stepmom. She woke up with his thoughts and the last thought before sleep was him. Life felt colourful and beautiful. She met Abhay at Chemistry tuitions, a subject she just couldn't comprehend.
It was a batch of five and the students tried their best to outdo one another. The equations confounded Maya, but Abhay seemed to have no trouble at all. More than the chemistry classes, his thoughts troubled her. She felt happy about the fact that he noticed her as well. She felt elated that she was not losing out to Pallavi. Deep inside she used to think Pallavi was far better looking than her. She found her own eyes too big for her face. She hated her curls that were so difficult to comb through. Pallavi had long smooth hair all the way down to her waist. And Maya could never get over the gap in her front teeth, though her mom used to say that it would get her big money someday.
“Maya, did you understand the equations?” the chemistry teacher asked.
“Yes, I did,” she lied, in fear of appearing dumb.
“Can you solve the second equation for us then?”
“Ah, well … I can try.” She knew she would never be able to solve it.
She wondered whether studying chemistry was meant for her. May be she should have chosen humanities. She wondered whether she had committed a mistake by choosing to study sciences.
Yet mistakes made her what she was today. She would not have been Maya Dewan had she not made the mistakes in her life. She was good with literature, but like so many others, she thought science was the most intelligent thing to pursue. That's when she learnt that it's not always great to be part of the herd.
“Where are you lost, Maya?” the teacher asked in an irritated tone.
“I'm thinking about the solution.”
“Pallavi, may be you can help her find one? I don't think she has understood the concept.”
She thought the tutor, Mr. Shankar, should be a bit more understanding. What if a student took time to understand? Surely he could wait with some patience. She felt humiliated in front of Abhay. It irritated her more for Pallavi was one of his best students.
“Sure, Sir,” Pallavi answered, as usual.
Once the class was over, they packed their books and got ready to move on. As she walked home along the narrow lane lined by bushes, she wondered how Pallavi managed to understand stuff so well.
“Hey Maya, wait!” she heard Abhay calling. Her blood froze. She looked around to see if it was really Abhay. She bit her lower lip and stopped to wait for him, her heart started racing.
The hot guy is running behind you, she thought. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Maya, would you care for an ice cream?” he asked.
Say yes, say yes, say yes. The teenager inside her was yelling.
“No, I don't think I can. My mother will be waiting for me.”
“Well… Okay. Let me know if you have any problem with today's lessons. I'll be happy to help you.”
“Of course, I will.”
My problem is you. Her heart whispered.
She cursed herself for being such a fool. This was what she yearned for and would have given an arm and a leg for. Yet, when he asked her out, she had politely declined. How smart was that?
“Let me walk with you till your house. That is, if you don't mind?” Abhay pursued.
Yippee, her heart did a somersault.
Why did you say no to the ice cream? Her heart a ched.
They walked home chatting about weather in general.. It was hardly five minutes' walk. Once home she placed her bag on the study shelf, still excited from the walk. She sat there thinking about it for some time.
Home was no home for her. She never felt at ease there, especially after her mother's death. She wanted to be nice to her stepmother but deep inside she knew they weren't meant to get on well together.
As a child, Maya had been very sensitive. Maya was above average when it came to her grades. She was popular among her teachers as well as with the other children. She was short, but her lean structure and defined jawline made it up for her. The constant brooding look in her brown mysterious eyes spoke coded volumes.
Her father was a simple, hardworking man who had a small factory that manufactured mixers and grinders. Money was adequate enough to make both ends meet, and for him, his life was divided between work and family. He really did not have anything else. It was as if nothing else mattered.
When his wife committed suicide, he was shaken to the core. It was his love for his daughter that helped him pull through the ordeal.
After her mother's suicide her father remarried, more for Maya's sake than anything else. Her stepmother, Neetu, was a pleasant natured, good looking woman, but she had preconceived ideas of how children should be brought up. Children were meant to obey, she thought. She took good care of her husband, cooked decently. She did have a liking for Maya, but their ideas about discipline clashed. Maya could never relate to her. She was a bird who wanted to fly across the sky. Stepmom was a tree. It was like they both sat on the banks of same river yet on opposite sides. Perhaps they both wished they could understand each other better. If only Neetu wasn't keen on Maya being an example for others, both in her studies and otherwise, everything would have been fine.
The doorbell rang. Dad was back. She loved him. The moment he returned home was the brightest moment of the day for her.
But it was different with her stepmother.
“Why only boys wouldcall you?” she would ask Maya.
“Why?Girls too call me,” she would reply.
But her stepmother wouldn't stop. She would go on and on from one thing to the Not again. Please don't start that again.
“Maya, you need to be more ladylike. Look at your friend, Pallavi. How well she carries herself. Look at yourself. How do I make you understand? Men don't marry girls like you,they need good and obedient wives.”
“Relax, ma,” she said brushing a lock of hair from her forehead.