Don’t wait for me. May be it’s not worth it. Our families will be despaired. Forgive me.”
Piyali, wiping her tears, put the letter in an envelope. She called Pintu, the neighbourhood kid. She said, sliding a toffee and the letter in his pocket,”You know whom to give.”
“Ok, Didi.” Said Pintu and sprinted into the lane. Midway he got distracted from his purpose, seeing his friends playing Gilli-Danda.
The letter fell from his pocket, while he took out the glass balls.
The letter caught Kishore’s attention, who was waiting for a signal, at a corner in the lane. He murmured after going through the contents,”Son of a bitch!! Always talks big, but got no guts….will kill him for ruining our plan.”
“You dance like Jackson, I act like SRK. We will make it big at Bollywood.” Darpan had lured Kishore. Both of them class XI dropouts, had planned to elope to Mumbai in the evening train. Kishore had packed his belongings, and sneaked in his mother’s golden bangle, to leverage their expedition.
At night, she could not sleep realising her mistake of writing the letter. Next day it was her wedding with the local sugar mill owner’s son.
“Run Piyali, Run. You still have time. You cannot succumb to family pressure. Can you be happy with that old hog, double your age? Run, even if it means staying alone.” Cried out her conscience.
She slipped quietly through the door at 3 AM. Everybody was asleep.
She reached the station, panting after a breathless run. She was surprised to find Kishore, her love, a teacher by profession, waiting for her as promised.
“You still waited for me?” Asked an astonished Piyali.
“I will always wait for you.” Said Kishore, taking her into a warm hug.
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