Two Diaries
11th December
The Bus
There she is, my Ann, my sweet, little Ann.
‘Ann’, with a double ’n’; sometimes, in the trance of my yearning, she is ‘Annn’, with a triple ’n’. She is ‘Anne’ to many; to some, she is ‘Annette’, but to me she is always my sweet little ‘Ann’ (or ‘Annn’, as already mentioned above).
Anyway, there she is, sitting two seats in front of me, in the row of seats to my right. She, as usual, is dressed beautifully- leggings hugging her succulent thighs, a skirt, which jumps up blasphemously every time she shifts her leg, a cardigan to protect her from the cold, and a scarf that hides part of her feline face.
She is with her dad- the reason why we are not sitting together-headed homewards after school, in this forlorn bus. She can only steal glances at me, while I stare at her to my heart’s content; I stare till the grail of my heart overflows with sweet, pure love and also, I must admit, with a bleary shade of lust. Can the carnal desires of a lover for his beloved be really termed as ‘lust’? I shall leave such ponderous questions for my philosopher friends and carry on feasting with my eyes.
How desperate she must be to place the softness of her palms on my hardened claws. How hard it must be for her to douse the flames of young ardor and not run into my sordid arms at that very instant. But she sits there, keeping it all in, so that she can enjoy me when time permits.
We both shift uncomfortably on our seats- both irked by the pangs of passion; both in love. She loves me, not more than how much I love her, but, at the least, as much as I love her. She loves me dearly- of that I am sure.
We ride in the same bus and yet, we ride not together. Such mockery of our love! She sits afar and yet oozes out philters into the air that seem to enchant only my poor self. Oh, how much I love you! Oh, how much we love us, my sweet little Ann.
Her sudden movement pulls me out of my torpor. It’s our stop. She gets off the bus with her father, her protector, her first love (hah! Such irony) and I follow a few paces behind, just like a predator would, ready to pounce over its prey. Only here, the predator and the prey, the hunter and the hunted are so helplessly, so foolishly, so ardently in love.
I follow her till they’re home, where, upon reaching, she steals the long and last glance for the day, confirming that I am with her, always. Then that sweet little tease scurried away into her home, leaving me, a perpetual burgher of her queendom, behind with a bland existence.
“Same time, tomorrow”, I whispered into the thick foggy air, as I walked away.
12th December
4 p.m.
St. Something School (I care not about names), the point of incipience of our saintly love and yet, I know, that neither this saint, nor any saint for that matter, would approve of our love- our holy, saintly love. We, my beloved and I, belong to different age groups. That’s that. It does not affect our love and yet we know that we should tread with caution, for this rotten, nefarious society finds perverse pleasure in denying people like us the love we crave for.
I don’t see her father today.
Did she…?
Was she able to…?
My heart fluttered with apprehension. Will we finally get a chance to ride together, devoid of her father’s unwanted presence!
I paced up and down the street so pathetically unable to hold my excitement. Finally, finally I will be able to live the dream I have so often seen with my eyes, both open and shut. However, my dreams were hammered by just one look at her face.
She emerged from the crowd, our eyes met and there was despair painted all over her face. Slowly she walked to a russet Ford, accompanied with some filthy looking nymphet of her school. Seems like, her father had arranged for another mode of conveyance in his absence- such a preposterous act by that insipid man. Why could he not leave her alone for once? Why doesn’t that fascist let my sweet, little Ann live her way.
I had to strain all my sinews to keep the rage within, as I saw my beloved being taken away from once again, in our week-long love story. My beloved could not even bring herself to look me in the eyes. Oh my love! My sweet little bundle of joy!
We need to meet soon. The distance is getting too painful for both of us.
11th December
He was there even today. This creepy man has been around for some days. I did not think too much of it, but today he kept staring, kept smiling… like he knows me. He even followed me to our house. I am very afraid. Should I tell dad about this? Am I just thinking too much? This is surely a strange man!
It’s mom’s birthday next week, need to plan something special. After all you only get one mom.
12th December
Seeing him outside the school I panicked. I had seen him earlier, but I thought he was a parent. Now I know that he is there for me. The way he looks at me. I can feel his eyes all over my body. But…but he is old. He is at least 34. I am just 16. What does he want from me?
I just could not summon enough courage to travel alone today. Father was busy. That’s why I asked Diana to drop me off. If I see him tomorrow, I will surely tell dad.
Anyway, I have homework to work upon. Must concentrate.
13th December.
St. Xavier’s School.
In his make-believe world, he was sure that she loved him. Such mad assurance emboldened him. He managed to sneak into the school campus and hid in the girls’ washroom- waiting for her, praying that she shows up. It was risky, but he knew it was worth it. He could not handle this mad separation- this distance from her.
During his sojourn, so many girls came in and went away. He watched them all, he watched their silky legs, their guileless arms, their pretty faces, but nothing, absolutely nothing came even close to the spell-bounding beauty of sweet little Ann. His Ann. And so, he waited. He prayed. And, as if to mock the faith of the rotten, nefarious society, she showed up.
He leaped out in joy.
He hugged her.
He squeezed her in his strong embrace.
She froze.
She choked.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t shout.
She stood there, subjected to his kisses, comatose, afraid. The only sound she was able to make was a brief wail.
He was finally able to touch her. Oh such pleasure! Only he knows that he had spent five sleepless nights playing this scene in his head. He could see she was in a trance. She was sucking in the pleasure- the pleasure of his physique all over her. He knew she wanted it. He was absolutely sure- just like he was sure of everything else.
The next day, the school’s name made the headlines.
Another day.
Another girl.
