IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 100- DREAMGIRL Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

“You are stealing my clothes,” Mohini declared (name changed).

Mohini lived just a house away—only one wall between me and divine beauty. We were the same age, same class. She was older by a few months, but miles ahead in confidence and charm. A walking heart-throb, the unofficial queen of our school.

I was thirteen and hopelessly in love with her eyes, her walk, her voice, her smile... sigh. But it was a one-side love. At least that is the way I thought.

I stood there dumbfounded and squeaked out a single word: “No.”

I couldn’t explain. Couldn’t breathe, really. You see, that summer afternoon I had gone to the roof to get hold of a stray kite which appeared to have landed on my roof. The kite had moved on but I could see Mohini’s green tunic flown off to our roof.

War-gaming started in my mind. Do I return it directly? Drop it off at her house? Or present it like a hero in school the next day?

Eventually, the adrenaline won. I decided to jump over the parapet walls and put it back quietly on her clothesline—like a secret agent of lost garments.

But just as I was hanging it back... poof! Mohini appeared like a Bollywood villain catchin’ the hero red-handed.

She didn’t scream. No. Worse. She smiled. With that evil, knowing smile she accused me of stealing her garment. She was enjoying my panic like a Netflix drama.

I stammered out the truth. She just stood there soaking in my misery.

Only when someone from her house shouted, “Ki hoya? (What happened)” did she casually wave me off, “Okay okay, I forgive you. Now jump back before someone sees.”

In all that panic and fear I jumped back to my roof. A few long breaths and I realised how big idiot I was. All these years I had fantasized that one day I will accidentally meet her on the roof and confess “I love you”. A few more breaths and I realised that I couldn’t have done it because while talking to her drops of my saliva were coming out of my mouth in that state of fear.

After that day, she ignored me like I was just another potted plant in her veranda.

Until... the day I got the call letter to join army as an officer.

Next morning, there she was—admiring herself in our big mirror, telling my grandma, “Dadi, your mirror is amazing. So clear!”

Then again the next day. This time she found a way to sneak a word with me. She softly said, “I’m sorry... for that day on the roof.”

I was stunned—again—when my grandma appeared like an uninvited magician. I couldn’t say anything.

Funny how mothers and grandmothers know it all- always.

Next day, the mirror was mysteriously missing. Grandma had removed the portal of romance. Mohini had no excuse to come anymore.

I never spoke to her again. Fear of the  grandmother held me back.

Fear has been my lifelong companion:
– Fear of getting late for parade
– Fear of commanding officers
– Fear of weighing a kilo over the medical limit
– Fear of appraisals
– Fear of falling short in the eyes of troops
– Fear of coughing during an ambush

But funny enough— there was no fear during the fire fights or other life threatening situations in the line of duty. That part was easy.

And yesterday, at a wedding buffet, someone tapped my hand just as I reached for a plate.

“Kya haal hai? (How are you?)”

Mohini. Dressed up, older, rounder—but that same mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

For a split second, I was thirteen again. She looked radiant even now—her hair perfectly framing her face, that little tilt of her head still able to send a jolt through my chest. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was magnetic. In that instant, I wanted to blurt out everything I’d bottled up for years—how much I’d admired her, how many nights I’d replayed that rooftop scene, and how my heart had always done a somersault every time she smiled.
A crazy, boyish desire to just pull her into a hug surged through me, like time had folded and nothing else mattered.

“Age chalo (Move ahead), people are waiting,” commanded my wife.

That’s when I realized—wives know everything, too.

And once again, fear of the better half made me move on.

चाहा शिद्दत से, ज़ुबां तक बात न आई थी,
तस्वीर तेरी हर वक़्त दिल पर छाई थी।
डर इतना हावी हुआ था ख़्वाबों पर कि,
तू सामने थी, मगर दूरी मिट न पाई थी।

 

Note:- Thank you all for the support in my journey of writing the hundred episodes of IUKB.