lemon
June 1976
Is it a kiss if I suck the lemon that you sucked, too?
Masuma looked at me but didn’t answer, and then she smiled, took the lemon back from my hand and sucked it again. Her lips puckered at the sour taste and she shut her eyes, savouring the moment, before giving it back to me, she sprinkled some more salt-pepper-chilli powder on it. I sucked the lemon again, hoping to get a taste of her but it was just tangy.
We’d walked away from the others in our group, leaving behind the manicured lawns of the park and into the wild growth of grass, shrubs, and trees. The forest and mountain were not too far. The early afternoon sun was warming up the place, bees and other insects swarmed over our heads. Our palms were moist with sweat, our fingers intertwined into a firm grip, proclaiming our defiance, our daring, as it were, but there was no one around to be shocked at the sight of two teenagers walking in a park, holding hands, and sharing a lemon.
We sat under a tree, still holding hand, but for the buzzing of the insects and the sundry noises by sparrows on the tree, it was quiet. I just wanted to be with her; there was nothing to say. She always talked incessantly, but she was quiet. We sat under the tree, holding hands. Her loose glasses would slip and she’d push them up the bridge of her nose.
Then, after what’d seem like a long time of silence, which both of us weren’t able to bear any longer, she asked: Do you know the saddest short story in the world? And without waiting for me to respond, she began narrating it.
Once upon a time there was a couple, a woman and a man. They had been together for many years. Then one day the woman got sick and bedridden. She couldn’t get up even to go to pee. The man looked after her for some time but then got tired and fell in love with another woman. He started giving his wife poison pills that would kill her gradually. The woman, who still loved her husband, knew that she was a burden on her man. She’d throw away the pills after the husband left the room. You see, she didn’t want to live anymore, and she thought that if she stopped taking those pills, she’d die sooner. Both the husband and the wife wanted the same thing. But she just wouldn’t.
Men are such beasts, she declared, looking at me sternly.
I nodded agreeably, although I wasn’t convinced that men were beasts. I mean, they could be, or they couldn’t be. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t one, for sure.
I hope you don’t grow up to be a beast, she said, looking at me accusingly. She seemed convinced that I’d grow up to be one by default.
Do you want to kiss me? Masuma asked, suddenly. We were still holding hands. She moved closer to me.I’ve never kissed, I said and I looked at her uneasily.
OK, let me teach you, she said. She then took off her glasses, pulled me closer to her and put her lips on mine. She tasted of lemon. Then, she pulled away. Her eyes were still shut tight.
How was it?
It was great! Open your eyes, I said. She did and smiled.
Did you like it? I asked.
You’ll get better with experience, she said.
Does that mean you’ll let me kiss you many times? I asked.
Not today. We must go, or the others will come looking for us, she said and got up, and began to run. We reached the spot in the park where everyone was to meet. We were the last pair to reach the spot, and all the girls, including Masuma, giggled. We returned to school in time for the closing bell. Nobody had missed our presence in the classroom, not even Mrs. Iyengar.
1 Comment
So sad