The mystery

They weren’t cooking that day. I asked mom, if they ran out of gas. She told me that on the day of a family member’s death the stove is not lit. Almost every month I witnessed my parent’s quarrelling because one of them had forgotten to book the gas cylinder. I neither could figure out the defaulter and nor could understand the reason why this happened mostly during the days of unit tests. That day was my last quarterly exam, when I came home and found that Tickoo uncle, our next door neighbor was no more. I was in class 5th then.

Mom had been cooking for them that day. She sent me with the tea kettle to their house while she was cooking Tehri to be sent later. Beena Tickoo, roll number 12 of class 5-A was sitting next to her sobbing mother and looking at tickoo uncle's dead body cluelessly. Even I didnt have any clue about what was happening but I expected her reaction to be different from that of mine. I gave the kettle to Beena's aunt who was taking care of everything. Some 8 to 10 people, mostly ladies were sitting around where Tickoo uncle lay. I wanted to talk to Beena about today’s' paper, she couldn’t take the exam, so I thought she would like to know what was there in it. Besides she was good in English, so she would have helped me estimate my marks in the paper.

I could never feel comfortable with her when Tickoo uncle was around, not even now. I just kept looking at her, sitting amidst all the sobbing ladies, so quietly as if she had been punished for not doing her homework. It regretfully reminded me of one time when she didn't do it but the teacher didn't punish her because tickoo uncle was in hospital. She cried in class that day because the teacher wrote INCOMPLETE in red ink on her notebook. Though I had tried to comfort her then but couldn't, partly because I didn't know how to comfort her and partly because I didn't want to. Now, today with everyone mourning around her, and besides that she probably had a reason to cry, I was expecting her to roll down tears which might again create the opportunity. But she was just silent. Even the silence didn't appear to be a sad one; it was rather a silence out of disinterest.

My mom came in with a Tiffin of Tehri, and the moment she entered,Tickoo aunty started crying uncontrollably. Mom asked me to take Beena to our home and gave me the keys while she held tickoo aunty by the shoulders to pacify her. Beena was very quiet but as I expected, she wasn't reluctant to come along. I was extremely conscious now in her presence as it was one of those rare times when only we two were together. Besides, I was scared she might start crying like her mother did right now and I would be scolded as I was twice by tickoo uncle for making her cry. I thought I should tell her, what I think of death and life after it. But then the consequence of such a conversation was not conceivable in such a vulnerable condition, so I rejected the idea. Then, I took out the English examination paper and showed it to her. I was about to ask her for the answere to the first question when she suddenly burst into tears. I didnt know what to do. Tried consoling her but she won’t stop. Her nostrils flooding and eyes streaming. I was scared like hell, more so because Tickoo uncle was no more and I was scared that his ghost would hold me responsible for this. That was how I thought of death and dead men. I wiped her tears with my hands and then in a moment of anxiety I did what I had attempted so many times. I kissed her at her cheek, out of fear or out of something else which I didn’t understand then. I still remember her wet and warm cheeks on my lips. She stopped crying soon after I kissed her. We both remained silent for some time with the question paper lying there with my answers marked on it. Now she already having cried, I thought telling her about my idea of death and dead men would be a innocuous way of breaking up the awkwardness of the silence and the kiss. I don't know whether only I felt that awkwardness or we both did. I started with what god thinks about us and how I am able to talk to him when I am in bathroom, but before I could say enough she stopped me to reveal that she was sad for not being able to take her English exam. I was stunned, and for a moment ashamed of my insincerity.

After Tickoo uncle's dead body was taken away for cremation, she went to her house telling me how many marks should I expect. I couldn’t remember that figure after she was gone. What I remembered was the wet, warm cheek with a sense of achievement and puzzlement mixed with the fear of Tickoo uncle’s ghost knowing it all. I kept pondering but I could never understand her sadness and her reaction to the kiss. That was my first encounter with the mystery of a women's heart.