Incomplete

Now when I think about it, I really did injustice to that girl. And even though I never knew her name, if you’re reading this, I so sorry for reading those letters!

So, anyway, this is how it goes. I used to travel to school on a bus. The bus looked like it survived a hurricane every other day.  And even though the bus ride sometimes weren’t that fun (I slapped a girl; we’ll get back to that later), this is that fragment of my memory which has surprised me a lot. I mean, I had never given it a thought after it occurred, not even a second of my attention. And now, here I am, writing it down for a blog-piece. Okay, I am drifting away. So, what happened was, I used to stand at the entrance of my lane for my bus to pick me up. Say, I usually waited for about 5-10 minutes. One day, I was standing there, feeling awkward as usual, when a girl came over to me and asked if a knew a girl who’s name I don’t remember now. Let’s just call her Anaida (It’s not privacy concern; I really forgot her name). So, this girl comes up to me and asks me if I know Anaida, who was supposedly my senior. I knew that she existed, heard her name, saw her too. You know how it is in All Girls Convent Schools, you just know every one of your seniors and you’re also terrified of them, for God knows what reasons. But I was too busy being awkward to even be scared of them.

“Yeah, I think I do” I said, wondering who she was.

“No, no. I need to be sure that you do know her” she said, somewhat annoyed.

“Well, what batch is she?” I asked, pretending to be ‘somewhat annoyed’.

“She is in 9^th grade”

“And I am in 7^th. See the difference? I won’t know her personally but I have seen her and I sure know who you’re talking about. Why do you ask anyway?”

“Because I have to give her this.” She said as she pulled a piece of paper, folded in many folds, out of her skirt pocket.

“And this is?” I said, as I took it

“A letter”

“Really? I couldn’t have figured that out without that vital piece of information you just gave me” I thought to myself.

“I know that, okay? What letter is it?” I said and made sure she heard the cynicism in my voice.

“You’re not supposed to know.” She said, which was kind of stupid because I can easily open the letter and read it.

“Ah. Confidential, eh?” I said, flipping the folded paper

“So, make sure you give it to her only” she said and was about to go her way, when something struck me,

“Hey! Aren’t you going to ask me to not open the letter?”

She turned back and faced me, like she was making a grand entrance in a movie and said,

“Go ahead and enjoy” and smiled and left. All I could mutter was a “huh?” because I thought I wasn’t suppose to know.

But, good as I am, I didn’t read it because it was confidential and very out of my business. This event wasn’t forgotten but happened the next day and the day after. And after it happened for three days consecutively, my curiosity got the better of me.   

 Eventually, I did open the letter after she left the scene, one day. After I opened, for a moment I thought her handwriting was illegible, tiny and no-sense whatsoever. When I looked closely, it turned out that the whole letter was freaking coded. The letter was coded. And it probably had one or two English words. I felt stupid, all of a sudden. You are not supposed to know. More like, you can try but you won’t.