That Special Game Nikita Jain   © Copyright 2021 by Nikita Jain

Photo by Sam Manns on Unsplash

Now, I understand why she said that. That time too, I thought I understood why she said that. Prachi Singhal was the friend whom I used to consider my best friend but actually I was jealous of her. I was jealous because she was far superior to me and she used to show off too. She always got good grades, she was the good dancer, good singer, good in art craft or as I used to shout in my head, ‘better than me in everything, everywhere’. I regretted taking admission in same school as her and later unfortunately we were in same class too. My inferiority complex rose to highest levels and I am not rid of it till today.

When I was in Vishwa Bandhu Academy and she was in St. Mary’s Senior Secondary School, we were good friends. We lived at Gajraula, a small town near Muradabad. When we were children, there used to be a power cut for around 15 to 20 hours. We weren’t rich enough to have generators and inverters in our home. So, there wasn’t much to do at blacked-out home. Everyone used to hang out with their friends. Uncles were often in a factory. Aunties used to gossip about everything and everyone. Children groups were divided according to their ages. I and Prachi were in the same group.

I knew her when I wasn’t even born. Our Moms were pregnant with me and her respectively, when they became friends. She was already there when I came. She stole my thunder right from the beginning when her idiosyncrasies implied that she was one brilliant kid and mine were just hard core proof of my stupidity. I didn’t even get an admission in St. Mary’s. I didn’t get it because we were a little late and at that time they didn’t have arrangements to admit over hundred toddlers in nursery class. Our parents talked in this regard and her Mom said that a kid has to be intelligent enough to get admission in St. Mary. Maybe, she didn’t say it directly to my parents but later when I heard her saying, “Sometimes, teachers try to encourage dumb kids”, when I had won a candle decoration competition, I was pretty sure what she was and what she meant.

Prachi-Rashi were always best dressed and presented their best of etiquettes in front of my parents. That day too, the first laughter came by mocking my ridiculous dressing sense. There are things I never cared about in life; one of the prominent ones is ‘clothes’. So, I made a face which didn’t come out exactly as happy one, while serving tea to our guests. There are things I could never do in life; one of the prominent ones is ‘faking a smile’.

Later, elders were engaged in their ‘grown-ups’ chit-chat. Me, my younger sister Chiya, Prachi and Rashi were sent to play. We chose terrace for our most interesting game. In front of elders, we used to call it, ‘that special game’. The game was, touching each other’s naked bodies including private parts.

Prachi might be thousand times more intelligent than me but I can guarantee that she didn’t know the meaning of ‘lesbians’ , ‘sex’, ‘straight’, ‘spooning’ and ‘oral’ at that time. We had never seen porn or any such films. We were doing it when we were no less than eight years old and continued to do it when we were no more than twelve years old. We didn’t have boobs, we didn’t wear bras and our pussies hadn’t started growing hairs. We didn’t even know about ‘menstruation cycle’. Today, it’s been more than ten years, but I don’t think any one of us can tell how and why we started doing it and why we continued for four years.

We used to take turns so everyone got chance to touch everyone. I had done it with all the three of them. I still talk about it to Chiya though I can’t tell if it’s funny, embarrassing, scary or what.

We decided to play ‘home sweet home’ to lay the foundation. I was the husband, Prachi was the wife, Rashi was our daughter and Chiya was the boyfriend. Prachi wore a dupatta that ought to look like a saree. I didn’t have to do much as I already had short hairs and my hanging tees paired with stupid pyjamas were already giving vibes of typical young guy who just can’t grasp the concept of being a husband. I was the born dramatic so usually I did my roles my way and rest of the script was written by Prachi. She served tea and food in our kitchen set. We were to wait for Rashi to go to her room and sleep where she would escape to meet her boyfriend ‘Chiya’ and later on I had to unhook her dupatta that she had adjusted on her shoulders with a safety pin. Soon as Rashi went out on terrace and leaped over to the neighbours roof which was Chiya’s home in our script, my boiling artistic side had a blast. I looked at Prachi and asked her to strip dance for me.

We didn’t get enough power to watch television all the time but whenever we did get it, that’s all we did. I like to think that we were so upgraded as eight year old kid that we understood what happened when the characters in non-sense T.V. serials talked about first night and the heroine shivered like suddenly there was snow fall or what did Tom went through when he couldn’t approach that blindly sexy kitty. Obviously, we didn’t have any ‘upgraded’ channels to learn that stuff.

I had another family friend called, ‘Vini’ from Vishwa Bandhu Academy, she was one year younger than me. One day, there was some function in our society and she had come to my place. She was the topper of her class. Lord knows, why I get only super intelligent people to make friends with. I wasn’t planning on to tell her about ‘that special game’ so I offered ideas like ludo, snakes and ladders, neat version of ‘home sweet home’ and so on. Soon, all of them were out of the list of our interests and we started talking. She told me about a Himesh Reshamiya song and asked what I understood from it. The girl who acts like she doesn’t know or think about anything except school and studies, asked me to interpret the meaning of scenically sexual song. Then there was an awkward eye-contact and we touched each other all over. She even beat up my pussy and taught me all these new moves which I was eager to tell Prachi about. For some unbeknownst reason I never told Prachi about the touching part, the new styles was just my creative imagination for her.

Recently, I got an arranged marriage proposal and I refused by saying many things plus ‘I don’t think I can let any stranger man touch me like that’. I never had any boyfriends too. I have touched boys and I am very sure that I am straight but sometimes I blame my emotionless skin to that special game rituals. Maybe, it became so familiar, so usual that now it doesn’t make me feel anything and also I don’t find any big deal in it. I am still a virgin at twenty-three but according to me that has to do with my peculiar tastes and ups-downs of life rather than the fact that I had made a major life choice in terms of sexual orientation in my childhood.

Vishwa Bandhu academy and St. Mary were co-ed school and the boy-girl sex ratio was like, there were at least twice the number of boys than girls in every class from nursery to twelfth standard. We had many male friends too. We used to play, badminton, basketball, catch-catch, I spy, ludo, chess, business and other sober our age-related games with them. As far as ‘chit-chat’ is considered, the four of us didn’t talk much about it, among ourselves too. Once, Prachi told that she did talk about it to his faraway cousin and he showed him his thing (dick). When I and Chiya asked for the display, he said that he don’t want to show it to outsiders. We never involved him in our games, though he used to blackmail us that he’ll tell elders and Rashi was always confused as ‘what is there to tell’.

Initially, I felt ‘not-good’ after ‘doing it’ with Vini behind Prachi’s back but later that gave me immense pleasure as though I am giving her medicine back to her.

I and Prachi were stepping to teenage when her mother got pregnant. We didn’t exactly know how the baby must’ve got in but we knew that same sex people can’t do that. We were kind of relieved for that fact because we saw that unmarried pregnant girls weren’t treated very well. In my neighbourhood one of the eldest daughter’s names was always talked about because of her ‘inappropriate friendships’ with boys. She used to roam around on bikes in very attractive dresses and make-up all over her face. Personally, I found her very cool and beautiful. However, she got pregnant and there was a lot of drama regarding her fat bully and later she was missing from that house. No one knew where she went. Some said she was thrown out and some said she ran away. Her parents refused to answer any allegations. I heard my mom complaining about the sanity, cleanliness, status and values of our neighbourhood.

That day, we were shocked when Prachi’s mom came to call us for dinner. She entered so suddenly that we were baffled and didn’t understand what to do but somehow came in justifiable positions because of Chiya’s good listening power. However, no one could clearly explain as though what we were playing. Rashi gave a good description of a household story that we were enacting in our favourite game of ‘home sweet home’. That day, I learned that people of almost every age group always know when they’re doing something wrong or questionable. Rashi used to ask us why we’re hiding it but she too had an impression that the game was some sort of sin that we committed behind our parents’ back. Still, she used to be the one saving us most of the times. Maybe, personal pleasures are great influencers on one after rights and wrongs.

I was always compared to Prachi in my home. My parents always asked me to learn from her. She was all-rounder and that too top notch everywhere be it academics, sports, extracurricular activities and more. Once she got around five prizes and I got none. Again her mom said something like, ‘all children are gifted in some or the other thing but for some of them that is not enough, they want to excel everywhere”. I hadn’t participated in like four of the things for which she won but still my parents had a look that said, ‘even if our daughters die today that won’t make much difference to our lives’. I felt very hurt and also somewhat jealous.

Our school used to organize Diwali Function. Students used to present dance, singing, skits, stand-ups and much more. I used to be very interested in watching and enjoying the show. I never took part because I was neither good enough and nor interested enough in those cultural things. Seeing other people do it made me happily fine. Prachi had participated in singing, group dancing, solo dancing, skit and anchoring too. So, one week before the programme date, I got all excited and told mom that I’m participating in a group dance. My mom got very happy and she got me very ready for that made-up dance. I got rid of all the extra jewellery and make-up as soon as I stepped in school and went to sit in audience which was my favourite place. That would’ve been okay but I made a blunder of telling it to Prachi too. I couldn’t tell her as a friend, I could never talk to her as a friend. I shouldn’t comment if she made me feel inferior or I myself felt small in front of her but usually I used to listen to her when she talked and she followed me when I touched. She had called to tell that she was participating here and there and she needed some things to make a dress for her solo-performance, I was supposed to bring a dupatta, earrings of blue colour and maangtika if I had. I had everything but I brought only dupatta for her and while I lost my mind for a few seconds I slipped in that I was also participating in a group dance.

Sometimes, it seems as though I knew and experienced the ups and downs of friendships and love from a very young age. And that’s why I feel prepared for the worst in every kind of relationship.

She didn’t tell about my lie to anyone, she didn’t expose me. I felt ridiculed though. She didn’t even ask me as though why I had lied like that in first place and that made me feel like she knew it all, she knew me all along.

Her parents had bought a house near our neighbourhood while her mother was pregnant. They have had it checked, it was the boy. Her mom said that they needed a boy to complete their family; she encouraged my mom too to try once. My mom denied and said that her family is already complete. Then she had a look on her face which is my favourite, she looks pretty with that smirk. Following that and assuming it to be a good day I asked for a hostel because I thought that then I would get my freedom and I would be able to be more mature. I’ll learn things like life, world and how life works in this world. My parents didn’t agree readily so I added that I wanted to get out of that small town and that I wanted to live in a big/metro city. I urged the mom’s complaint too, which was, ‘I and Chiya were growing up, neighbourhood wasn’t classy enough and eventually we’ll have to move out’. Mom and Dad found a solution for this and that was, they sold our present house, shifted us in a rented one in a different colony and bought a house in Delhi. I was to be sent to my grandparents for high-school and when Chiya would reach that stage, we were to move in our house in Delhi with mom. Dad would take a room on rent and stay there because he won’t be transferred or given a new job in Delhi. I still can’t believe that Dad had already planned it when we were so young that we used to gulp sugar with our meals. Anyway, while Prachi told me about her house, I too had the same news and clearly bigger and better one. As I was swooning in pride that I will soon be a city girl and she would remain a village girl, she said, ‘so you’ll find someone better there to play that special game with’. I was dumbfounded.

We were invited for her new home inauguration celebrations. She seemed different like heads is from tails though they’re just too sides of a same coin. She was full of attitude and didn’t even reply on my ‘Hi, Congrats for a new home and a new baby brother’. Maybe, moved her head a little bit but I deserved more than that, at least I thought so. Her cousin was also there and that day I managed to look at his thing (dick) when he went to pee on terrace as there was only one washroom and everyone had to go. I also compared it to the one I saw on my ‘best friend’s’ little brother. I got a hint of meaning of the talks between big girls and big boys and frequently heard term ‘size matters’. The important part was the fearful look on the sweet cousin’s face. That can be the first time when I felt superior and powerful in front of somebody. I instantly cracked my crooked smile and whispered, ‘if you told our secret to any one, I will tell everyone that I have seen your thing and it didn't look good enough’.

I am not proud of that incident. However, I still don’t completely consider it wrong. I mean tit for that is a way of life. Everyone says, you get what you give. Our history teaches us to answer and kill in first time or the attacks would keep coming. So, that was his lesson as well as mine. ‘Birds eat ant then when birds die, ant eat birds’. Everyone gets their time, their chance, their dime and their dance.

We shifted in our new home. No one was happy. Not that the new one was too bad but that the old one was too good. My thirteenth birthday was to be celebrated in new house. I wanted to be thirteenth in the old one and in my house. I never liked rented or used things. I like to buy new stuff and own it. Anyway we shifted fine and it took a week to get settled there. I and Chiya used to sleep either on terrace or in a dining room in our old house. However, there was less space in the new one and terrace wasn’t an option there. So somehow we fitted ourselves on a single bed. Dad was restless in his sleep so Chiya shifted to other side and mom got near him. The next morning was not normal for us because we had half-seen and half judged the real rules and styles of that special game. We were awkward though it was nothing new or wrong anyhow.

In school before I could even complete my story, Prachi said that she had seen her parents doing it, many a times and she also offered to show me a movie type thing where they demonstrate all the plausible methods to do it. It was an interesting offer. The movie in particular was called ‘porn’. She knew about it because she had a friend named ‘Priyanshi’ who in turn had a big brother. So, she went to his room in playfulness of little sister and came out finding the secret of heavens and how you can experience it in less than fifteen minutes. Obviously, she thought that she was obliged to pass the wisdom to everyone in school, after all knowledge increase when knowledge is shared.

So, she had given a DVD to Prachi and Prachi said that we can arrange the time and place to watch it. A lot of days passed in discussions regarding the place. She said my home would be better and I found her home a better place for this. She won’t show it to me on my terms, I would have to give up and agree to her suggestions. She would back them up with air-tight arguments like her mom would always be at home because of her baby brother. One Sunday, my mom went to someone’s house for some gossip and kitty party. I had already informed Prachi about that a day before. She came just when mom was about to leave and the plan seemed to be tripping there. We had decided that we won’t tell about this meeting to anyone. On the spot, she said that she had come to talk to me regarding some school work. Luckily, she had brought a bag so the lie passed successfully. Chiya had gone upstairs to study with our homeowner’s kid, they were in same class. Actually, I had made her leave because for some obvious reasons, I didn’t want to see porn with her, though after four years when we were grown –up, we had too much fun seeing it together.

She put it on our T.V. and it started playing. It was a less than fifteen minute video with a crapy plot and majorly depicting only the special game and how wrongly we do it. As it proceeded towards climax, I felt something and I felt it down there. I realized that it’s the same feeling I feel when I or someone else touches it. I also learned that our special game is called ‘sex’.

Sometimes, I used to have lunch with Prachi and her friends in school. They used to talk about it a lot and they always related boys to it. I used to stare blankly at Prachi’s face when she joined and laughed at it. I wanted to ask/tell about the same gender people doing it. I never did. There used to be a stupid game which all the middle graders play, called ‘truth or dare’. Prachi took a guy’s name when asked about her crush in school. I was asked with whom I would do it for the first time. I never answered that question. My image as dumb and dull in her group/class got sketchier.

Later that day, I asked her the same question and she said that she hadn’t thought about it like me. Everything was written on my face and I knew she could read it. I still don’t understand why we never talked about it. During the ‘doing’ time too, we just did, we never talked or laughed. Sometimes, we looked into each other’s eyes but it felt weird and she always shut her eyes after a few seconds. She said she felt even better that way. I also started doing it with closed eyes though I liked it when I could see her expressions.

That time, I didn’t know the concept of gay or lesbians. I just thought that you can do it with anyone and everyone you want to. The other person should also want it but I didn’t think the gender of genitals mattered. We watched a lot of blue films. After watching one, I wasn’t that curious or interested in watching more so I used to make-up excuses and deny every time Prachi asked. However, we had more friends. One day, the place was decided to be Mansi’s home and she lived in ‘first colony’ which was quite far from our ‘friend’s colony’. We had decided to go, it was pre-planned. We dared to take the journey with our bicycles respectively and just crossed the highway when the truck almost hit us. He yelled too many abusive words onto us but we quickly peddled and got out of that busy road. I and Prachi were the first ones to reach.

Mansi’s parents had gone out for a whole day and she was alone at home. They had taken her younger brother to city hospital for his cracked heel. As the programme of watching videos after videos started, there were pauses, discussions, laughter’s and jokes in between. Almost everyone seemed to like and agree the idea of doing it with a guy. Around half of them had already decided the guy who will be the first one to touch them. Prachi seemed to enjoy just as same and just as like everyone else. I learned many new words that day such as virginity, pussy, spooning, make-out, erotic, BDSM, LSD and many more. When we took a break and Mansi served snacks and drinks for all of us, I quietly asked Prachi, if we are still virgin? She snapped back, pretended to not hear me and went away to talk to someone else and after a few seconds she laughed so hard that I felt like bawling there.

I knew I am not attracted towards her or love her as such but it killed me that she won’t even acknowledge me in public. She would always talk to me like she was meeting me for the first time, sarcastic with extra sugar. I regretted telling everyone that she was my best friend. I had done that right after I joined St. Mary’s and the same people who listened continued with and around us till I was thirteenth. The next day when asked two important people in school for her, Prachi replied Mansi and Shivam. ‘Shivam’ was the guy she had crush on and he was at least two inches shorter than her in terms of height. I never went to have lunch with her after that incident. Somewhat I also regretted taking ‘Agam’s’ name as my crush because he was the best friend of ‘Shivam’.

Going to Mansi’s house was also the first time when I was with my age group people without any elders. I didn’t feel adult or anything, instead I felt relieved when I reached home and in night I vomited so much that I had headache along with fever. I was shivering like maniacs and was traumatized for weeks. That was also the first time when neither I could explain and nor mom understood as what had happened to me.

Sometimes, I used to ask her to lick my private parts, she never asked me to do that. I used to lick her up afterwards. She never asked first, I used to ask, initiate, and do her first. This pattern followed me all my life or particularly this pattern of thinking. After more than two years when I had left Gajraula and had no contact with Prachi or anyone from there, I decided or rather came to know that I was into guys. There was this short and dark guy who looked interesting enough to talk to and timid enough that I would be able to control. I wanted to talk to him or something at least but for some reason I didn’t even smile at him. Other than that I felt handicapped when it came to making friends at new school, in Delhi. I didn’t know how to talk, what to talk or why to talk. Our class teacher made me sit with Namrata when I had newly joined D.M.P.S and I hold onto her for the entire four years. She was into studies and didn’t give a rat's ass about things like making friends. I asked her a lot to come to farewell party but she didn’t want to so she didn’t. At least Prachi used to agree if I asked her to do anything and of course I didn’t assign any undoable or life risking tasks to anybody.

Mom says I was very playful and fun in my childhood days. I am not sure until what age people are considered to be children or until what age I was ‘funny’. They say childhood incidents and first times affect a lot in design and direction of a person’s life. Would I be more bold or secure with so many friends if Prachi and all of the incidents with or related to her haven’t happened? I also found myself dull and most of the times scared. I am scared that I will have to initiate and ask for everything because if I don’t then there is no chance for me. I am somehow convinced that I won’t get anything I want if I didn’t speak up with my own mouth in my own words.

In college, I fell for a guy who later confessed that he liked another girl. I went full dramatic after the ‘break-up’ which wasn’t even a ‘break-up’, traditionally. We had just kissed a few times for curiosity. In high school, I met a guy on facebook and gave him my mom’s phone number because I didn’t have a phone at that time. The first time he called, he said, ‘what are you wearing’ and I replied, ‘I can’t marry you’. In office, I liked a guy and after an ‘accidental’ make-out ‘kind of’ thing, I asked him for a date, kiss as my birthday gift and later I even proposed to him. I never got any of those things.

I don’t run after romantic relationships, but when I see a tiny little hope, a ray of sunshine or even a simple smile from someone, I hold onto them. I hold so tightly that they might feel suffocating and might be that’s why they all run away. It was so easy to find better than me that they just diverted their eyes for one second and found a long queue of better girls, better friends and better people than me with all the qualities that I won’t be able to illuminate in me.

Prachi used to say that I should grow my hairs long or I won’t find a suitable boy ever. She wore her hairs long since she turned twelve. We used to talk a lot about looks of everyone. Bhumika didn’t look good with braces but without braces too she wouldn’t look beautiful. Sweta is a Bengali beauty. Tanu has sharp features but all together she looks null and so on. We even suggested ways that these girls could try for getting an eye catching vibe. We neither talked and nor told them about it. Prachi had got her periods before me and her whole family had come at my home next month when it had occurred to her second time. Her mom could only talk about Prachi’s periods like it was some kind of achievement. I hadn’t got it by then.

Prachi told me names of all the girls from school as well as neighbourhood who had taken their first step in becoming a woman. Is menstruation the first step towards becoming a woman or losing virginity or becoming a mom? My mom always said that she is a woman and I am a child. How come Prachi always knew everything about everyone, especially girls?

I used to sit with Shrankhala in class at St. Mary’s; she wasn’t my friend or anything. I used to hold onto her because I didn’t know who I was if I didn’t. Once, our English teacher asked us to choose a partner for an activity called, ‘Just a Minute’. We all were supposed to prepare something in a pair and present in front of class and it should be of sixty seconds at least. I don’t know what was sadder, the fact that Shrankhala didn’t choose me when I believed her to or that no one picked me in the end. I presented an article on ‘brain drain’ alone. Teacher said, ‘I was good’. That day I wrote a song for the first time. I don’t exactly remember what it was about because my parents threw that faded and torn off notebook away but I remember it was about betrayal. Again at a test, she told teacher about my chit slips just because she didn’t need one. She had taught me to make chit slips and I never told on her.

Last two and a half years at St. Mary’s were terrible. I used to cry all the time, my grades had fallen to their lowest, I was utterly confused about everything, I didn’t have any friends and I had started thinking about suicide. I used to get this weird pleasure in thinking or imagining about the ways to die. That happiness was even more than the pleasure of thinking or imagining about touching and licking other girls or boys or movie stars or anybody. I had thought of different types of poisons, jumping from high buildings, choking yourself, throwing your body in fire, deep waters or giving yourself a shock. The list was bigger than the list of ways a human can be touched. I didn’t know about Google or Internet in those days. A part of me thinks that I became psychotic after I stopped speaking to Prachi and another part of me thinks that I was born this way, it was just destiny. I had to go nuts so that I could become an artist, a writer. I can’t tell the correct time and age but I had read somewhere that miserable people make for good artists. Now, it feels like I knew it all the time and I was just trying to cross that edge to master my craft though I don’t know if I completely believe in it.

I and Chiya got used to the fact that our parents do it. Chiya developed a crush on our landlord’s son who was around one year bigger than her. From somewhere she picked up a habit of writing diary. Even I didn’t know about it until Mom caught it. I used to teach her for exams, protect her in every way I could and beat the crap out of anyone who tried to harm her in any way, be it our own parents. I thought that I would always know everything about Chiya but I was wrong. One day, when we returned from school, Mom asked me to read her diary. She had written the ways she wanted the landlord’s son to touch her.

Today, her social media has a lot of unread texts from boys around the world. I only use whatsapp and many a times my texts remain unseen. She is much more bold and secure than me. She doesn’t have a romantic relationship because she doesn’t want to whereas I don’t have one because I can’t have it. Boys dance around her and I dance around boys. I am not sure if I am happy for her or sad for myself. The only thing common between us is that we don’t feel anything. Whenever we talk about the ‘touching’ part, it isn’t like any of us liked it with anyone.

Once, we were just walking around the colony. It was so dark that we weren’t able to see each other faces properly. We were holding hands, that day I had a feeling that I knew Prachi by touch and smell. All four of us had heard rumours that St. Mary’s was built on dead bodies and the ghosts of those dead bodies roam around in school. We decided to check on it. School was just in front of my new rented home. We jumped off the walls and went inside. We went to our building and then to our class. Rashi and Chiya went to other direction soon I and Prachi discovered ‘7^th B’. We were watching at the abyss through the window, silently. It must be 50 minutes or fifteen seconds when Prachi abruptly asked, ‘why don’t you eat lunch with me anymore’ and I quickly followed like another line of poetry, ‘why didn’t you pick me for ‘Just a Minute’. We were silent again. I said that I wanted to run away, somewhere far. She said that we will run when we are old enough and ‘live together’. We said those last two words together. I had just started dreaming into her eyes when Chiya called, they had found a ‘ghost’. There were some unknowable sounds and whispers which had to be some supernatural power because we didn’t know its origin. We ran back and school peon saw us on our way back. We fooled him and went back to the colony.

I actually believed that it was possible to live with Prachi in future and though I was still content that I don’t like her as such, I thought it would be fun. At that time I had started hearing voices in my head. To say it poetically, I had discovered music in my head. I started writing lyrics in high school and when I used to write them, I used to hear them like a complete song. I have never learned any instrument and I don’t know crap about singing. I had told Prachi about it. She wanted to be a professor or a scientist. She said it would be good money and less work. I had no idea that writing career also means no money or recognition for a long time. She had suggested me to keep writing, she thought I was good. I used to either tear up the pages or burn them after I wrote on them and let Prachi read. I don’t know why I did it. I used to think that if my mind has created it then I can create it again on my command. There was another reason that I didn’t want my parents to find it.

For my last summer vacation at St. Mary, I was going to my maternal grandparents with my Mom and Chiya. Prachi had similar plans. She was waiting at a same bus stand with her Mom, Rashi and her baby brother who was named ‘Amrit’ after my many recommendations for ‘Antriksh’. Our Moms and sisters started chit chatting while we thought of taking a walk around that beaten up bus stand. It was afternoon in May. We found a washroom which was badly stinking of Lord knows what things. There was no one at that time. We kissed for like fifteen minutes or four seconds before we left in our respective buses to our different destinations. I vividly remembered the trip to Jaipur which had happened in fifth standard. It was the three days and four night’s trip. I and Prachi were given the same room. We also had ‘Sweta’ with us. Sweta was the normal child; she had slept at 11 p.m. I and Prachi had sat in a bathtub, naked for hours, touching each other with our toes. I could just close my eyes and rediscover that feeling in every form and shape I had lived with her. I knew it wasn’t as emotional for her as me.

At my grandparents’ place, I met with another girl who always wore traditional dresses. People find alike people. I never had to see or say or do anything differently and neither did she. I don’t even know her name and I don’t think she does. We did it once and my grandmother caught us. She gave me a good lecture as why it was wrong and what would happen if anyone got to know about it. Well, she got to know about it and I don’t think anything ‘happened’. She didn’t tell it to anyone. Later, I never saw that girl again. I was thinking about Prachi when I was doing it with her but I didn’t feel as bad as I should have. I just assumed that she also do it with other people and doesn’t tell me.

I was just finishing high-school when I got the news that Prachi’s Dad had tried to hit on my Mom. The first thought that crossed my mind was, how I didn’t want to leave Gajraula and my family for Prachi. I wanted to leave, it was getting unbearable there but when it was certain that I will leave, I didn’t want to. At least, life was happening at Gajraula as opposed to ridiculously monotonous at Delhi. My grandfather used to drop me at bus stop for school, I used to be there for seven hours and then I went to home and just sat inside doing nothing interesting. I had become unbelievably quiet for first two years at that metro city. I had developed a habit of reading. I used to read all the time and I used to read everything from childish fables to serious adult stories. When I got to know what Prachi’s Dad had done, I hated him and I knew that now I won’t be meeting with her anywhere in my whole life. Still, I knew that I didn’t hate her for this reason, might be I was kind of sad too that all the chances of our paths crossing had been brutally marred.

I didn’t get good grades for a good college, neither did her. Today we are working at a same company with the same pay scale and she is doing it after five years of college whereas I am doing it with a four year degree. Either I am ahead of her or we are at same place but definitely she didn’t go too far from me. Our posting is at different cities so still we are not in any sort of contact. Few years back at college ‘Agam’ told that she used to play some special game with ‘Shivam’ after I had gone to Delhi. He texted some stupid smileys followed by that information to hide its meaning. I was the meaning. I remembered, Sharankhala also had a crush on ‘Agam’, I knew it when I had said his name as my crush. One day Shrankhala had called me ‘idiot’ loudly in front of whole class because I was having trouble finding the stanza which I had to read after her. Next week, Agam had shown sympathy and said that Shrankhala had always been a bitch and he also doesn’t like her. He asked why I stuck up with her when she has been a bitch to me so many times. I desperately want to find answer for that question slightly transformed, why do I put up with shit of anyone and everyone?

Shrankhala used to talk to me about Agam’s rudeness and indifference. I used to listen and tell Agam that she likes him and he should avoid her anyhow or else she will ruin his life. One day in school he had forgotten to bring his history homework. I got to know because I heard him telling the same to ‘Shivam’ I told Shrankhala that she can take her revenge by telling that to Raghu Sir and she can add things like he harasses her. Raghu sir beat and slapped her very badly and he was enormously insulted in front of fifty-seven students. Later, I told Agam that I had asked Shrankhala to not do it but she was reluctant on revenge.

I never showed those types of traits at D.M.P.S. or it wasn’t as much fun with new unidentifiable faces or I was suffering from anxiety induced by the separation of a loved one. I must’ve been a devil born with angelic outer skin. A part of me wanted to cleanse too. I often felt dirty when I first moved to Delhi. After Gajraula, it was around five years before I was ready for another person, for a boy. I always used to jump on Prachi when I touched another girl. I will say that she did the same. Because of the non-sense step taken by her Dad, I was deprived of that luxury for forever. With Naman in college, I didn’t touch or even see another person in the same way. After him too, it took me four years before I could want someone else.

That day, when Prachi’s Mom had come to call us for dinner, Rashi told them a household story where the husband was leaving to work in another country and their daughter was really sad about it. Later, the husband finds a guy and starts living with him and never returns to his home again. Her Mom had bought it and didn’t even question it for once. Rashi was considered dumb then.

Naman didn’t like girls drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes. The day I broke up with him, I drank a lot of alcohol and smoked a pack of cigarettes along with a friend. I had realized in earlier days of drinking that I can bring back that sensuous feeling with the hang-over. I wanted to remain in that ecstacy. I never craved for physical touch or sex as much I missed that special game. I am almost sure that I am not getting that special feeling again. I highly doubt that I will get it with Prachi if anyhow I get to do it with her again.

I took dance classes for around a month or so when Prachi said I have potential by seeing my moves as I had become a roadside romeo who was trying to impress her in one of our special game scenarios. We used to give each other birthday gifts and Christmas gifts even when we had stopped talking or maybe we never stopped talking altogether. We were always in ‘touch’.

In my head, I have altered my school life in every possible way. I was the popular girl who had many friends. I was super intelligent and super beautiful. Prachi was my tail and I was not hers. Everybody loved me and I never lost my self-esteem. Prachi was compared to me in her home and so on. However, I never dared to change the part related to ‘that special game’.

One of my college mates had said that I look like I have no emotions. Maybe I leak all of them into my write-ups.

In my last year at St. Mary’s, I had noticed someone noticing me. He was slowly becoming the third one for the trio, Agam, Shivam and Mudit. He was my caste too and similar to me in a very fundamental ways. We used to stare at each other blankly from a distance. I told Prachi about it and she said that we can go on a world tour, she with shivam and I with Mudit. The next day she passed a chit to Mudit with a note, ‘I like you, from Prachi’. I made scissors dance in my hairs and I had to get it right in a boy cut. In evening, when we met, Prachi said that I looked a lot cuter than I do in my blunt hairstyle. I did the exact same thing with Shivam. I took it one step ahead and started flirting with him too. We never talked about these things too. I wonder what did she tell to Shivam about all that or even if she told, if it mattered to any of them.

Prachi and I used to go to fetch milk in morning from a village called ‘sadallapur’. We used to go on bicycles and used to watch the show of every size of boy taking a bath in a village pond. We had tried cigarettes a few times on our way back. Usually, there used to be people and it was a small place so everyone knew us but we did it sometimes when we got the chance. We had also drunk a sip of a village alcoholic drink. We didn’t spin or anything because it was just a sip and it was so bitter that we threw half of it. We had taken a pot from the house of our milkman. We always did brush our tooth after reaching home.

We had figured sex and we had tried to help the pleasure by fingering. We never fingered each other though we used to do it together. Winters were a hell lot of memories. We didn’t know G-spot but I am pretty sure we had found it someday sitting at the back of class, listening to Geeta mam telling the greatness of Hindi language with wide eyes. Our pussies had sprouted hairs and when I got my periods I never wanted to do it again. I never felt anything during my menstruation cycle too. I never had any headache, stomach aches or fever that normal girls do. I checked with Prachi and she said that it doesn’t matter, she too never had it. I remembered how her mom had extravagantly explained her aches because of periods. Many a times, I used to notice her doing her homework in class while her mom used to be beaming with pride while telling her loyalty to school homework. Well, she used to stand first in every class, so it worked.

That day, after dinner we fingered too, just sitting side by side in one blanket, watching Rashi and Chiya play ludo. That day was before final year exams at St. Mary’s. None of us knew that it would be the last time that we would touch each other, finger with each other and see each other. I could’ve seen her, touch her, talk to her for the last time but I didn’t. She knew I was leaving so the story is same version for her too. I left quietly. After I stepped in Delhi, I never saw Prachi again. I never went to Gajraula again ever.

I have been writing since school and it's been over ten years now. I have a degree in Electronics and Communication Engineering. I have done numerous part time jobs. I have done IT jobs also and currently am in a progress of one. Whenever I have an idea, I have a feeling or I want an escape, I write.