Dear, I (Was) Fooled ('Dear' series : Ep 01)

I was under immense pressure. In the secret code language, we all understand—'Nature's call.' I was in tenth grade, ranked fifth in the class. Then there was Wharkin—studious beyond belief. I honestly don’t know if there’s a book she hasn’t read. Her study room was a library, books scattered everywhere, each tagged with what looked like summaries. But they weren’t just summaries—every book was underlined, scientific journals and research papers filled with pencil-drawn diagrams.

I rushed toward the washroom entrance. As I reached the door, I was reassured by the familiar sight of closed compartments and felt relieved that I was in the correct washroom. I have this phobia that I might enter the wrong one. Yeah, at some point or other in your life, you've probably had that fear too—or at least, every boy in our school did! I opened the compartment and something else. Oh, what a glorious, satisfying relief!

I remembered visiting Wharkin’s house yesterday afternoon. She was fast asleep. Her mother asked to wait in the reading room - while she went to wake her up. Two minutes passed. Impatience got the better of me, so I ran my fingers through her bookshelf. Sherlock Holmes—yes. Lord of the Rings—yes. Harry Potter—yes (the entire series, of course). Then I glanced at another shelf. Mathematical Circles—yes. An Introduction to Algebraic Topology—yes. A tenth-grader, seriously? That sight alone was enough to fill my day's depression quota."

I flushed, and I heard voices outside.

"I have this brilliant plan - and you are saying no?"

A girl's voice?! Since when did girls start coming into boys' washrooms?

"This weekend?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"No way, I have sort of a date."

"Since when has Miss Wharkin started dating school guys?"

Wharkin? The world seemed to collapse on me. If she finds out I was in the girl's washroom, the date is cancelled. I hastily looked for possible sources of mishaps - no cockroaches at present. Well, we first search for the thing that has the highest probability of causing dangerous situations.

"I had no idea you would be coming here today? Can I help you somehow?" asked Wharkin, who had just gotten up.

"Sort of - I actually required that report..."

"Oh! The one that we have to submit this Friday?"

"Yeah, that one."

And at that very instant, a cockroach crossed across the hall. The shrillest voice you can ever hear, and she rushed to the windows. I was near one of them, and she was standing beside me. I thanked the cockroach then, but in the current scenario - if I see a cockroach, I would curse its entire family.

Till now, no cockroach. Safe. They cleaned their hands and started gossiping - what? Seriously what? If we guys have cleaned our hands, we gaze the face in the mirror and then come out. Who the hell talks inside the washroom after washing the face? These girls.

"I wanted to ask you something also...Can I?" I fumbled as I spoke.

"Yeah, sure," she replied.

I looked into her eyes and said - "Err...I want to go out for dinner this Saturday. Would that be possible?" immediately, I looked at the roof - it was clean, and there were cobwebs in the corner, but overall maintained - there was no seepage! (I was thinking and simultaneously giving expressions)

"This Saturday, eight - would that be fine? "

This is an utterly unexpected reply from someone who scores so high in school. They have the image—right, the serious one, never talking to many people, blah, blah.

"That would be perfect!" came an instant reply from me. Words came out even before they were processed.

On the other hand, listen to the dynamic plan of these young ladies: They would go to Mrs. Thompson's house in the morning, have lunch at Wharkin's friend's house, and then go to Mr. Bamboozle's circus show. Have dinner at some restaurant - I had lost interest.

"That is the same restaurant I planned to go to with him!" exclaimed Wharkin.

Now I know the restaurant also. Why is this happening to me? Simply because, under extreme pressure, I used a different washroom, which was not intended for me? Who the hell had asked the school administration to build similar compartments - well, whoever was responsible, the dirtiest fact is that I have not cleaned my hand till now. There was only one water source - and I had no intention of using that.

"Shall we go to Riverbank?"

"I had the same thought!"

"Great, I will meet you at half past seven near your house!"

"Yeah. I would be ready. But I had this one question - have you seriously read all these books?"

I asked as I was leaving the house. 

"I bought them second-hand." 

"Ok," and I walked out.

Seriously, what? I turned back, and she was standing there laughing. I smiled and walked back to my house.

Ah! That was yesterday. Today, I was in the wrong washroom. The real miracle? No other girl had walked in after them. I appreciated that—until I realized why. Girls usually close the door behind them in a washroom. Vague memories of long queues outside their washrooms during breaks led me to this conclusion. I had to slip away during class.

I killed thirty-two mosquitoes and stepped out of the compartment after an hour. There was this fear—if anyone noticed me, I’d be looking at a week-long suspension. And I would absolutely hate that.

The washroom was empty. I moved towards the door, opened it, then closed it again. Wharkin and her annoying friend were coming back. Again. How much gossip did they even need? I concealed myself.

Five minutes. Random chatter. Then her friend left.

Wharkin was alone.

Why the heck did she have to pee now?

She opened my compartment. Probability hurts. Fifty percent chance. Two compartments in the washroom.

Then—

A slap.

A kiss.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Why are you here?"

Everything happened for the first time.

Date and dignity—both saved.

Siba Smarak Panigrahi

(I don't know if I can ever top this rom-com, sorry myself and my readers)

(This is the first part of a three-part story; check part 2 here and part 3 here)