“Nisha, can you please come with me this evening,” Rahul sounded distraught. “Next week is Valentine’s Day and I don’t know what to gift my girlfriend.”
Nisha hated to say no to Rahul, but she would have to manage things at home. She knew Mom would not mind, but cooking up a believable story for Papa would be difficult. Plus, telling Mom and not telling Papa would only deepen her guilt.
“What happened Nisha, please please don’t say no,” Rahul kept pleading. Nisha thought quickly and said, “I will manage something. Meet me at the Shyambazar Metro station at 4 pm.”
It was 2004, when mobile phones were still a rarity. People depended on landlines for communication. Nisha quickly dialled the number of Shampadi, her permanent partner in crime. “Shampadi, can you please cover up for me this evening, 4 to 9 pm?” This was followed by a barrage of questions and advice. The most pertinent one being – why did Rahul want her to help choose gifts? Nisha reasoned, “his girlfriend is Bengali, and I’m the only Bengali friend he has,” though somewhere deep down, even she wasn’t entirely convinced.
Her friendship with Rahul was only a few months old. They had first met at Priya’s birthday party, Nisha’s college friend. Rahul was in the Merchant Navy – cheerful, witty, charming. They spoke often, though nothing quite matched. While Nisha loved Rabindra Sangeet, Rahul swore by Green Day and U2. She preferred English classics; he leaned toward Arundhati Roy and Vikram Seth. They were opposites in every sense.
Yet, they stayed in touch, through Orkut scraps and occasional phone calls. They met at a few gatherings, always in groups. Nisha, meanwhile, remained focused on her master’s, brushing aside any unnecessary distractions.
That evening, she felt an unfamiliar nervousness as she wore her favourite pink kurta and jhumkas. Her kohl-lined eyes, often complimented in college, felt more noticeable today. Shampadi had already handled the situation at home after speaking to her mother, but her didi’s warnings echoed in her mind, don’t go anywhere secluded… don’t accept drinks… take public transport…
Rahul was already at the station entrance when she arrived. For a fleeting second, his casual jeans, T-shirt, and sunglasses made him look different – more striking than she had noticed before. Perhaps because now, he was someone else’s.
She dismissed the thought.
They decided to go to the newly opened Pantaloons on Camac Street. On the way, Nisha tried asking about his girlfriend, but Rahul brushed it aside lightly. “You’ll meet her soon,” he said, with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s a surprise.”
In the metro, she caught him looking at her more than once. Not unusual, but something about the stillness of his gaze made her look away, slightly uneasy, though she couldn’t explain why.
The day went well. They laughed, browsed, and debated. Finally, they picked a copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, a delicate silver heart-shaped pendant, and a bottle of soft, elegant perfume. Nisha chose each gift carefully, confident that any girl would love them. Rahul thanked her repeatedly, almost too earnestly.
By 8:30 pm, they were heading back. Shampadi would be waiting at Shyambazar by 9. They rushed to the metro, trains in opposite directions.
Nisha smiled, “Hope your girlfriend likes the gifts. Call me and tell me how she reacts, and bring her next time.”
As she spoke, the Tollygunge train arrived, Rahul’s. They said their goodbyes and turned away as her train rolled in on the opposite platform.
Just then, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
She turned. Rahul stood there. Before she could speak, he hurriedly pushed the gift bag into her hands. “Nisha… these were for you.” And just like that, he turned and boarded the train. The doors shut. The train pulled away.
Nisha stood still, a faint, confused smile lingering on her lips, momentarily forgetting everything else. A warmth spread through her – unexpected, almost overwhelming. Somewhere, quietly, she had always liked Rahul. Perhaps more than she had ever allowed herself to admit. And in that moment, with the gifts in her hand, she felt a blush rise to her cheeks, as if, finally, she had been seen.
For a few seconds, she was no longer on the crowded platform. She was somewhere else entirely, lost in a softer, gentler possibility
As she stepped forward to board her train, a voice stopped her.
“Ms. Nisha, do you know Rahul Sharma?”
She turned to see a police officer.
“We have been tracking a suspect – a rapist and serial killer. He was last seen with you. You’ll need to come with us.”
The words didn’t register at first.
Her fingers tightened around the gift bag. With trembling hands, she opened it.
Inside, along with the gifts, was a small folded note. She unfolded it slowly.
You were always the easiest one to watch.
The sound of the approaching train roared into the station, but Nisha couldn’t move.
She stood there, frozen.
By Manjusha Dutta
Manjusha Dutta is a Senior Manager with a Software Insurance organization. A movie buff and an amateur dancer, she rocks in the videos that she creates for her YouTube channel. She can be reached at manjushadutta@gmail.com.
