HER FIRST VALENTINE
She was only fourteen then.
It was her ‘first valentine’ with her ‘first boyfriend.’ She
had wanted it to be perfect. She had spent weeks picking
out the perfect dress for their perfect date on a perfect
day.
Her dress was pink – the colour of love. But she couldn’t
leave the house – all decked up for her date. She lived in
a joint family and each person in her family was more
conservative than the other (it was as if there was a
contest for the title, The Most Extreme); so she had
surreptitiously hidden the dress, the shoes and the
makeup in her school bag, which was easy since her
school bag was empty. It was her first valentine; there
was no way she’d waste the day in school!
She had to go to school as she couldn’t escape the ever-
vigilant eyes of her cousin sisters…but she had a plan.
The massive iron gates of the convent had shut
imposingly behind her; but that gate didn’t feature in her
escape route…she had a better plan.
Before the morning assembly, she had quietly slipped into
the restrooms situated on the playfield. She stripped
quickly and put on her ‘date’ dress, before shoving her
school uniform inside her school bag.
She was putting on the last bit of her makeup, when she
heard a multitude of voices singing in unison…the
assembly was drawing to a close. One of the things that a
convent school really liked doing was singing. And as
she herself was a good singer, the convent sisters had
harangued her, to within an inch of her life, to join the
choir. In the end, she had cited stage fright. Standing in
front of the school and singing every day for the entire
school life, was not something she wanted. She sang for
fun and only when the mood struck, but the choir sang
for the sisters and as soon as the chord struck.
She looked at the reflection in the mirror. She had tried
her best to hide those ugly red pustules but they were all
over her face. Hormones, she had been told but it did not
make the situation any better. She was ugly! It was a
miracle that she had found a guy who loved her and had
looked beyond her face.
She smiled, as she watched her reflection; true love was
rare to find. She reached inside her bag and removed a
plastic bag. Inside the bag was a beautifully wrapped
present – his favourite cologne (after all, her boyfriend
Rohit Randhawa was in high school and was a ‘man’).
Only she knew how she had managed to save up enough
money to get him the gift. Even though she came from a
well-off family, she never got any pocket money. She had
tried arguing a couple of times, but all she accomplished
doing was instigating an hour-long lecture on how money
spoilt children. Her parents argued, why she needed
pocket-money when her family bought her everything she
asked for. There was no arguing with that.
In the end, she had resorted to saving her lunch money,
preferring to eat a little from her classmate’s lunch-
boxes. Oh…the things you did in the name of love…but it
was all worth it. HE WAS WORTH IT!!!
She took her school bag and hid it in one of the
underconstructi on stalls. Her friends had been instructed
to retrieve it after school and meet her exactly at 2 pm at
the corner cafeteria. In school, matters-of-the- heart
required careful planning and complete coordination. Now
she was ready for her great escape. She had planned to
slip out through the in-campus bank, which had two
entry/exit points. The fact that she was in plain clothes
would not raise any suspicion. Of course, she prayed that
the bank teller did not notice the pearls of sweat,
glistening on her head. If she had to be successful, it
would have to be done in one fluid motion. She entered
from one side and exited from the other…and she was
free.
She was supposed to meet Rohit at the entrance of
Cupid’s Corner, a restaurant which was frequented by
couples. She had heard about this restaurant, her friends
often went there. This would be her first time. Finally, she
would no longer be the odd-one- out.
She got down from the auto and there he was, leaning on
his bike in front of the restaurant. “Oh, he is so cool,” she
thought as she sighed, “there is something about a guy
on a bike.”
He waited as she paid the fare. She joined him and he
took her hand and pulled her inside. They climbed two
flights of stairs, until they were in front of a big wooden
door. He pushed the door open. It was so dark that she
couldn’t see a thing. It took her eyes several seconds to
adjust to the darkness. She was still squinting when a
young waiter led them to a corner table with a ‘reserved’
plaque.
She sat down at the corner of the upholstered sofa seat
and waited for him to sit opposite her on the chair.
Instead, he shoved her in and sat beside her. She was a
little uncomfortable but she didn’t want to ruin it…after
all, it was her first Valentine’s Day!
The whole restaurant was plunged in darkness. “How do
people eat?” she wondered. There was a single small light
hanging above the table.
“I’ve got you something,” she said, handing him the
beautifully-wra pped box. He tore it open and smiled at
the cologne, before replying with a simple “Nice.”
“I’ve got you something too, to show just how much I
love you.” He pulled out an expensive-looki ng velvet
box. There inside the box, delicately placed, was a
beautiful mother-of-pearl bracelet.
“Oh, this is gorgeous,” she said, reaching for the box.
“Allow me.” He took the bracelet from the box and placed
it around her wrist. She was admiring the bracelet under
the orange hue of the incandescent light bulb. It was
magical…her first valentine gift.
He turned her hand over so he could close the metal
clasp and lightly touched the inside of her wrist. She
quivered at the tingling sensation. She thanked him when
he did the clasp and started withdrawing her hand, when
his grip tightened…
“Let me go,” she bantered playfully.
He was forced to let her go as a waiter approached their
table and switched on the lamp. Rohit unceremoniously
opened the menu and ordered the ‘Valentine’s Special’
menu – with an assortment of chicken canapés; the main
course was pasta in red sauce; and strawberries,
champagne and imported liquor chocolate for dessert.
Rohit withdrew a 500-rupee note from his wallet and
handed it to the waiter as a tip. The waiter smiled widely
as he nodded his head and walked away.
“There, no one will disturb us now,” remarked Rohit, as
he switched off the overhead light.
Maya was panic-stricken, when she felt Rohit place his
hand on her thigh. He shoved her further back into the
corner. Before she knew what was happening, his mouth
came down hard on hers. She felt pain when he bit her
lower lip. “What was happening?” she thought as she
attempted to push him away; her hands placed on his
chest as she tried to increase the distance between their
bodies. But he simply grabbed her hands and resumed
the onslaught.
It was several minutes before he finally released her, his
breathing heavy. Her lips were throbbing! She ran her
tongue over her sore lips and could taste a salty residue.
She wasn’t sure if it was the taste of her blood or her
tears.
Rohit was lighting a cigarette while her eyes roved back
and forth the room; she saw several couples across the
room…making out. She could almost swear that she saw a
girl, topless…with a dark head sprawled over her chest.
She could gag!
She felt nauseated…she was going to be sick. She put a
hand over her mouth as she started to retch in disgust.
She could feel Rohit draw away from her.
She reached for a glass of water, while he sat there…
fuming! Her retching stopped in a few minutes but she
held onto the glass. She didn’t even dare look at him.
She heard him curse under his breath, “Stupid bitch.”
“I’m sorry,” she croaked, still unable to look at him.
“I got you an expensive bracelet, you bitch. And what do I
get? This is how you repay me?” he said unkindly.
But wasn’t it a gift? She felt her eyes watering.
“What did you think? That you’ll con me and I will let
you?” he ranted, every word spewing venom.
“But I didn’t ask for a gift,” she managed, in between
breaths.
The ensuing laughter reeked of scorn. “When a woman
accepts an expensive gift from a man, she knows she has
to return in kind,” he carried on ranting.
Tears were now streaming down her face…He didn’t love
her; he thought she was a whore!
“But I thought you loved me,” she pleaded.
The repulsion on his face drove a dagger into her heart.
“You think I can love you? Have you even seen yourself?”
She closed her eyes as fresh tears rolled down her face,
like the torrential rainfall of summer.
“Do you know why I brought you here, you bitch? This is
the only place where I could switch off the lamp. You
think I could kiss you if I had to look at you?” He got up
and left, while she sat there, hurt, angry, weeping; and
now alarmed…how will she pay for the food he had
ordered?
She got up quietly, pretending to walk towards the
restroom. No one was watching her—the guards were
busy enjoying the scenes at the tables.
She turned and bolted out the door. She had learnt an
important lesson—“When a man paid ‘for’ you…you paid
‘to’ him.”
It was her first valentine slaughter.
She could hear voices in the distance, which drew her
back into the present. She simply looked down at the
bags that she was holding in her hand—her expression
sombre. She had vowed to never ever let a man pay for
anything for her—ever again!
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taken from the book - I'm A Woman, I'm on Sale
By, Mallika Nawal
