I have a tale to share of a clumsy girl. Of all my tales, I have to say something of her. In this life we meet people who influence us and whom we press a deep impression. She and her clumsiness didn’t impress me but it did made think the frailty of human relationship.
Of living and ghosts I have little knowledge. But I do have knowledge of a clumsy being. I was once a very gawky kid. My parents did everything to make me that way. However, when I was placed under my aunt’s gracious wings, she put me some sense that girls and boys were two different yet equal creations.
If a man was strong by muscles, a lady was strong by her elegance.
It took me years to understand the difference between the strong and the weak. When I met her, I understood the power the creator had placed on some a clumsy girls.
Angelica Mukhia, was a fresher when I was in my sophomore year in college. She was a girl who was blessed with beautiful body, tamed hair and fair complexion. She was originally from Kalimpong, one of the chief hill stations in north Bengal. But was staying in P.G with one of her friends at the outskirt of the city.
Her fair skin, her curved lips were perfectly design by God. She had long shoulder length black hair and she always wore a side bag. A catholic girl like me. She was in my Department i.e. B.A English Honours.
The first semester went by when I first took notice of her. She was someone who wanted to hide just like me but with such beauty and her clumsy attitude she somehow couldn’t go unnoticed. She was unusually alone, sitting at the canteen or at the library or at the parapet near our college ground.
She would be scratching or scribbling some art out of her pencil in a big fat notepad. I heard rumors that she was kind of psycho and was found talking alone in the bathroom. I myself found her mumbling alone in the backyard of our college building.
Although I was senior than her, the perfect occasion didn’t came up for us to communicate I was a confuse writer back then and I wasn’t sure about my future. I loved writing but within I feared to pursue it as my career.
We had our mass during the first week of a month. It was usually on Fridays that our principal or vice principal who were Don Bosco fathers conduct the session.
Angelica would be in a prayer position and helping herself not to fall asleep. Her constant struggle with her sleep was a humorous sight. It was entertaining but pathetic. I liked her we both were friendless girls in the same world. I empathize with her because I could place myself in her shoes. We both were friendless. We both were dead clumsy.
Winter holidays were about to begin and whole campus was in Christmas spirit. I was suffering from sinus and sore throat. I wanted to take early leave with the permission of Fr. Principal. So I drag myself from my aunt’s house and went college with a brown envelope which contained my leave letter.
Fr. Principal was however busy when I got there. Angelica stood with her back on me. I couldn’t see her face but I knew by her body posture that she was on her verge to cry. And in just a fraction of second, she sobbed and marched outside principal’s office.
I was in dilemma whether to get inside the office or to comfort a trouble lady. Finally Fr. Principal signaled me to go and I rush for her aid.
‘You all right’ I asked. She was crying at the empty library
She nodded sheepishly.
‘Tell me what happen. Did principal scold you?’
She didn’t say anything but denied by moving her head.
‘Tell me. I will keep it a secret. I won’t tell anyone.’ I told her and I was truer to that promise.
Finally her sob died. She looked innocent with puffed red eye and red cheeks.
‘Sis will you keep it a secret?’ she asked me
‘Yes I will’ I said
‘It’s nothing. I just… couldn’t pay my fine because of my financial problems. I was absent most of three days due to my financial problems only. My mother…’ she broke into tears again.
I hug her to comfort.
‘She …’ she stammered ‘she has to support me and my two sisters. I am new in this city and …. I have never done a job before.’
She wept and my eyes weren’t dry.
‘It’s okay talk with principal. He will understand. He is kind hearted. All God’s children are. He’ll understand.’ I told her.
She again wiped her tears with her dirty white handkerchief and nodded.
‘I was explaining it and he exempted me from the fine but I am so stupid. It’s so embarrassing. I cried.’ she threw a childish smile towards me.
‘It feels good when you cry.’ I told her.
She then began to smile.
After 15 mins she was back to normal. I went back to principal’s office to get rejected. I was so disappointed. He advice me to be in festive mood and stay until Christmas.
Even I felt like crying but somehow I couldn’t so I went back to college canteen to sip hot tea and chat with Angelica.
I found her quite cheerful and like an open book. Since it was winter and holiday season only few students loiter around the campus. Bunch of third year boys were staring at Angelica and she was cool about her tomato color face and puffed eyes.
I came to know that she lost her father when she was fourteen, who was sole provider for her family. Her mother then got a private job and she was the eldest of three girls at home. She had no boyfriend. It was shocking story. She was beautiful and within she had so much baggage and NO BOYFRIEND was even more shocking. At the rate of which boys at canteen were staring at her it was obvious that her relationship status was about to change.
I bought her lunch and she was thrilled. I saw her bag was torn and she had sewed it with odd distinct color threads.
I told her that I write stories and she told me that she was into sketch art. She showed me some of her sketch and it was brilliant. She sketched like professional. One idea struck me and I told her about it. She was so excited to hear. We agreed to make a manga like comic combining each of our talents. Since our university exams were approaching near. We decided to hold that idea little longer.
So the day ended with me giving her my number and taking hers. Poor girl she had a torch phone. She was too beautiful to be pathetic but I envied her. She was more talented, beautiful than me.
As the time passed, we grew closer. She was a loner like me. And we both were friendless. We occasionally bunked for movies. Soon I was no more an older sister but I was her close friend. It was mid February, I was sitting on the bench outside college writing my education notes and Angelica was sketching.
‘If I tell you something, will you believe me?’
‘Huh, try me’ I was curious but I showed plain face to her.
‘I like a guy’ she smiled coyly.
I rolled my eyes ‘my, my, ANGELICA! Who is the lucky guy?’
‘Alex’ she smiled and a shallow dimple rose on her cheek. She bowed her lashes.
‘Who?’
‘Alex.’ She was barely speaking.
‘He is in third year.’ She lied.
‘Sweety, I don’t remember a boy name Alex in this college.’ I told her.
‘I know.’ She pouted.
‘What?’
‘The thing is only I can see him.’
She looked at me.
I looked at her blankly. A cold chill pass through my spine but again I thought she was in mood to make fun. So I laughed.
‘It isn’t funny’ she was disturbed. ‘I told you won’t believe me.’
I looked at her. She was serious. Was it true then!
’ Are you telling me that you have a romance with a ghost whom only you can see.’ I couldn’t suppress my laughter.
‘Hey! If you don’t want to believe, don’t. Please don’t insult him by calling him ghost.’
‘Ok sorry, so when did you meet him.’
‘Few months ago, I use to see him staring at me in the canteen and in the library so one day he came to me during recess. I was sketching at the college field’ she smiled and continued her tale whereas I was thinking in my head ‘Bloody Schizophrenic’
She continued.
‘He told me he liked me and he asked me to draw his sketch. So I did...’
‘Can I see it?’ I asked.
She took out a sheet of paper. It was young boy about my age. She had sketched it well. He wore a loose gingham shirt and had a jolly smile. His hair seemed to be neatly cut and it seemed that he was little tan.
Last time she sketch me but my nose wasn’t right.
‘Angelica, stop joking!’ I told her.
‘Sonia, m not mad. This is something which I can’t share with anyone’
‘Are you doing drugs? Are you out of your mind? You silly!’
“Are you telling me he doesn’t exist?’ she became little touchy.
‘Yes, and we both know that’
We remain silent. I began to write my notes and she stood there like a statue.
‘Sonia’ she said to me
‘Huh’ I replied.
‘Alex wants to speak with you’
I look at her in serious angry manner.
‘Where is he?’ I demanded.
‘Right here.’
I felt as if a cold steel object was on my back, an ice on my esophagus. I packed my bag and went to class. I didn’t dare to look back at her while she half screamed my name.
For weeks, I didn’t talk with her. She was busy and I was busy. There came a time I was too scared to go to ladies washroom. I had heard from a classmate that she heard Angelica talking with someone.
Months went by we didn’t converse with each other since the last incident.
My English professor asked to practice report writing and for reference he told me check old newspaper from our library. I was running my fingers through old pile of THE TELEGRAPH. It was November issue. I hurriedly flip the pages to comic section and then to page 3. Foreign.
My hands tremble as I hold the newspaper wide open. I saw a boy’s photo. Above which it was written in bold letters INDIAN BOY MISSING IN MANCHESTER.
The boys name was Alex Chakroborty, Bengali catholic who was studying economics at one of the prestigious university of England. The other thing which was more shocking was the sketch of Alex which Angelica showed me. It was the same boy with different attire. The picture in the newspaper hardly showed his body whereas Angelica’s sketch were more real
I was shocked, worried and above all scared. I knew where she would be and I rush to that place with the newspaper in one hand to the place where she was often found. Behind our college building sitting on the parapet she was mumbling to herself or probably Alex. She was about ten feet away from me I hid myself from her.
‘Oh God.’ I thought ’if he is dead, he must be ghost but what if she is schizophrenic?’
God save her I thought to myself and looked at his smiling picture in front of me.
Solitude can be so cruel to some of us. For clumsy, lonely girl like Angelica it was a paradox, a curse and a gift.
Maybe I couldn’t understand her in her way. Maybe her imaginary friend or a ghost can make her feel secure and make her feel happy but it is all maybe. Then I heard her say these words as I peeked at her.
‘I don’t care if nobody sees u. I don’t care if they call me mad. You are here with me that’s all that matters to me…’
And I clearly heard a male voice say
“ I love you” out of nowhere.
‘ I love you too’ she replied
Resting her head in the air.