A Blushing Virgin
I was writing my diary when the phone first rang that day. As I heard the monotone I rushed for it. And I picked up the reciever in my usual genteel way, and the cordial word that I always say I said, "Hello". I was sure that it would cause a spark at the other end. But it was wrong number. That was the first dissapointment of the Sunday morning. My diary was still lying on the desk, open. The pen was also there but I wasn’t there anymore. From the hour I woke up alone on my bed, I was in great cheerful expectation. I had a bubble bath, I decked up in denim, I went to the plush restaurant down the street, had a hearty breakfast, came back and sat with my pen and diary when the phone rang.
I decided to while away my time by reading. I took out a Stephen King between Flaubert and Freud and opened to page 465. When I had reached page 468 the phone rang again and again it was a wrong number. I resumed my reading and when I was in page 470 it rang again. Again, a wrong number! I was in page 471 when another wrong number rang. And then it began ringing monotonously after every minute or two. So when the all-important phone came I was still in page 471 and I kept the on the bed and went to receive it. There was no mark of cheerful expectation on my face any more. And I shreiked in the receiver an unusual and uncordial, "Hello". But when I hung up I was again the same blushing virgin of the early morning.
I sat on the drawingroom sofa and started thinking about "fishing". Certainly I wasn’t just killing my time then; I was thinking. Thinking of "fishing". I had the fishing rod. I had the line. I had the bait. The game was mine.
I had been teaching in the school for five years. That school was really a big institution. Often I used to sit in the staff-room and think-think of fishing. I never had to search for any other pond. I used to hook the fish; then I used to pull it out of water and then I used to let it go back. That was the formula. Iwas engrossed in these thoughts and surprisingly and pleasingly the phone didn’t ring anymore. But now the doorbell rang.
"Telecommunication brings the outside world closer to us". Do you believe in the saying? I do. Because it’s true! I opened the door and found the old spinster standing there. She has been my neighbour since …perhaps since I came to knowl the very word "neighbour". But never in my I recollect talking to her. And today she was at my door asking if she could make a phone call from my phone as her set was out of order. I let her in and in a pretentious-pleasing voice said, "Of course".
This old spinster had been residing in the colony building for the longest period of time. Yet no one knew much about her. Maybe everybody, like me, kept cold with her. May be! And everybody regarded as an eccentric. But then I knew not why. I had always seen her from a distance. And today she was in my house; pushing the buttons of my telephone. The phone was not kept way in the house. It was kept just inside the doorway, in the corner of the drawing room, on a square table with a flower vase, a pad and a pencil. Beside it was a stool on which she sat. Since I never had closely and carefully observed her, I began observing her. She was in a long, blackish gown that covered her from neck to toe. Her hair was plaited. She was quite healthy and looking like a perfect old spinster. But in these observations I just forgot to hear what she said in the receiver and when she stood up, I jolted a little.
Whom she called and what she talked, I can never know now. Shesmiled looking at me and I returned the smile. And then she suddenly became grave and in a graver voice said, "Thank you". She strolled out and went into her flat. I closed the door. I tried to forget her. I went to the sofa and tried to resume thinking but could not. It was already the latter half of the dayand I decided to revisit the plush restaurant down the street. Yes, I had my dinner and while returning I did some shopping. So when I returned it was already 3p.m.
But I still had two hours to do the rest of my work before he came. He promised to come at 5p.m. I rested for half an hour and the next whole hour I spent in the bathroom- refreshing myself. I polished the fishing rod and carefully set on the line the line the bait. When I came out of that private chamber, I was looking attractive. Everything about me was attractive- my looks, my dress, all. And for the last thirty minutes I put on my last make-up- the make-up of Anticipation. And I was sure for the doorbell to ring at exact five, and it rang.
I went to the door and slowly opened it, only dsto find Mr.No-one. I was surprised but I shut it instantly. I turned, and at that moment the doorbell again rang. I suddenly opened the door but didn’t find whom I thout I would find- Mr.No-one. It was he. We kept silent for sometime and then wished each other good evening. I let him enter exchanging smiles and shudt the door. I made him sit and went into that private chamber of mine to sharpen a little. When I was back he was standing- beside the telephone and the flower vase on the table, with the pad in his hand. He said, "What’s…" I took the pad from his hand, saw what was written on it-
"Search for the vales, Peaks will catch your sight;
Search for the fields, Peers will match your might".
I said in astonishment, "Aaa, It…Let it be", and I hurried him to his seat. And just as I was prepared with the hook, the doorbell rang.
I went and he followed me. I opened the door and saw the old spinster. She began,
"Sorry to disturb you again, but, a tap in my house is leaking. I called the plumber, you know, but he hasn’t arrived yet. The condition is really petrifying. In no time my whole flat will be flooded. So, so if your man can help me a little in fixing it, I…"
But without my saying anything he interrupted her and said, "Oh…sure".
He slowly passed me and went with her, in her flat and, and she shut the door. She shut the door of her flat. I was struck with a peculiar emotion and I at once ran and began peeping through the keyhole of my neighbour’s door. And what did I see? I saw nothing. It was all darkness.
As time passed I began to grow impatient and after five minutes began ringing the doorbell of the old spinster’s flat. As my anxiety grew I began knocking at the door, then thumping at it, then kicking it and then shouting. After fifteen minutes I got so desperate that I couldn’t do anything and he came out. His look was grave- graver than I had ever seen him. He apologised to me without giving any reasonfor the abrupt departure he was going to make. He took leave and dissapeared. The old spinster had her door closed. I closed my door. The game was over. The game was lost. The "game" was lost. I never ever saw him again. He dissapeared. I wrote it in my diary.
It has been thirty years since that incident took place. I still reside in that flat. I still have a neighbour. I still work in that institution. But no longer I play games. Now I am the Old Spinster. And do you know who is my neighbour? Guess! Yes, yes, you are right. Quite right. Too right. My neighbour is the Blushing Virgin. For thirty years she has been A Blushing Virgin. Someday I think I’ll get a chance to meet her and I’ll ask, "Has the tap stopped leaking now?" What a bait!
Copyright: Amit Shankar Saha (1996)
