The Girl on the Third Bench

The Malayalam teacher, with her curly hair and cane in hand, asked me to show my homework. I had conveniently forgotten my book. She walked towards me, asked me to stretch out my hand, and hit me with her cane. She had the fragrance of cardamom around her reminding me of my mother’s tea.

While I was nursing my hand, my eyes fell on the third bench in the left row. Miriam was looking back at me. I stared back. She adjusted her hair and smiled. I looked around in disbelief, to check if she was looking at someone else. But NO! she was looking at me. My classmates later agreed she had a “thing” for me. Maybe it was because I had sung in class the previous day.

During math class, she stared back again. We looked at each other smiled. This happened throughout the day. A peculiar feeling rose within me. My heart raced, the hair on my head stood on end, the air was different and my friend teased me. I noticed her friends teasing her too.

The staring continued over days, weeks and months. We never spoke to each other. But when we submitted our books together, I made sure our books touched. 

I never missed class just so  I could see her every day. I even won a prize for maximum attendance that academic year. When she was absent, time felt infinite. Then she didn’t show up for a whole week, which felt like an eternity. When she finally returned, I was overjoyed. I realized I had missed her. I knew I loved her, and she loved me. At that time, just being in each other’s presence was enough.

Even now, sometimes, the memory of her eyes meeting mine, the smile, and the way she adjusted her hair comes back to me. Fast forward to now, when I meet eyes staring back, I don’t do anything about it. I let it linger.