My Neighbour Girl
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It had been a year since I visited the home last time. I was almost starting to miss it. I love my family, and I love my parents most, but I have never been very fond of staying at home, ever since I left for college, after high school. After that, I never stayed there for more than two weeks.
I guess one reason for that is – when you get home after a long time, for the first few days everyone treats you as a guest, which is nice, and overwhelming, but after that reality kicks in, they start treating you like a family member. They complain about your every habit; why do you sleep till eight, why do you watch TV so much, and most annoying of them all, why don’t you sit with us and talk.
But there is another reason, why I hate staying there, and that would be, the people in town. It’s a small town, almost close to a village. Like every other small town, people there are very conservative, and small minded. Most of my schoolmates are married with children. Most of the girls were married when they were underage, and now they look ten years older than they should, due to working household chores, and taking care of their children and family.
People hardly have any idea of the world outside this town. Global warming is not an issue for these people. They believe whatever adulterated stories they come across about the country and the world, mostly on the news, or from someone like me (who lives outside), and plagiarize it, to sound cool among their peers.
The town is not totally hopeless though. Things are getting better at its own pace. People are getting educated and are sending their children to good universities. But like all good things, it is going to take time.
All in all, it was nice to come home, meet friends and elders, ask about their life, tell them about mine, and be on your way. But this time, I was here for good unless I get a job soon.
I had completed my bachelor in engineering. I have applied for some jobs in cities like Delhi, Pune, and Bangalore. Hopefully, I will get calls for interviews soon. I was more bored than worried during this respite time.
I was sitting in my room watching some video on YouTube, as always. The afternoon time, at home, was the hardest. Everyone went out to their work, and I was all alone in the house. The only thing that helped is the Internet.
Normally, I would watch something or other on my laptop. From time to time, I’d look at the email to check if I received an interview offer just to get disappointed. Then I would listen to some songs of Pink Floyd, and the noon would pass normally. My parents would be back in the evening, at around 5, to complain about the tea I would make for them. I didn’t mind it, it was their way of showing that they care.
But this afternoon was not meant to go normally. All of a sudden, the Internet was gone. I realized my net-pack had expired, and I would have to go all the way to market to recharge it. I cursed my gods and went onto the balcony of my room in frustration. As I was stretching my arms, I saw someone in my neighbour’s garden.
At first, I almost didn’t recognize her. It was Neha, my neighbour girl. She used to live here before she got married a few years back. She must have come to visit her parents. It’s been three years since I had seen her last (at her wedding). She was my sister’s friend, and we didn’t talk much back then. She used to be a little fat, and big. She was twenty when she got married. I am a year younger than her.
I always believed it was downhill for a women’s body after marriage, at least in this town, but I have never been so amazed to be wrong.
I could see her curves from the distance – she was lean and fit, like an athlete. I wondered if she has been going to the gym or something. She was hanging washed clothes from the rope. Her hair was tied in a thick knot above her head. I could say from the look, she just had taken a bath.
She was repeatedly bending to pick the clothes from the bucket, to hang them, which gave me a pleasant view of her perfect ass every time, even over her kurti ( shirt ), which was down to her knees. She was wearing a sleeveless, yellow suit top, with green leaves printed on it, a green churidar salwar ( tight-fitting pants ), and a light yellow and green dupatta ( shawl type scarf that is used to cover the head or as a veil ), which was mostly transparent.
When she stood still, I could see the curves around her thin waist, getting wider as moving up towards her shoulders. Her suit had a wide opening on the back, which exposed her pale skin of almost all of her shoulders, and most of her back.
I was spellbound by the sheer beauty of her figure. I could not take my eyes off her. Part of me did want to look away because it was a married girl I was staring at. After some minutes of failing, finally I was ready to take my eyes off her, but then she turned around, and I saw her face. Her face was glowing in the sun with the hint of a pink blush on her cheeks. Her breast area was covered under her yellow dupatta, but I could güvenilir bahis clearly imagine the shape of her boobs under it. Then I thought, ‘Maybe gods are not all cruel on me, today.’
My eyes were so fixed on the soothing view of her beauty that it took me a while to notice that she was looking straight at me. I tried to be genuine, and said, “Hi.” I could hear my heart pumping faster than it should, as I waved my hands.
“Hi,” she said, with a smile, and waved her right hand. I didn’t know what to do next. I saw her walking toward me. I could see her face more clearly, her big dark brown eyes, augmenting its beauty. My eyes shifted to her pinkish lips, stretched with a smile. I noticed the small vibration of her boobs, over her dupatta, as she walked, of course, she was not wearing a bra. Then my eyes met hers, and I made a hand gesture, saying, maybe I should come down. She nodded. I climbed down the stairs and walked toward her.
As we reached close to the boundary between our houses which was a four-foot high wall of bricks and concrete, she asked, “When did you come home?”
“It’s been two weeks,” I replied and added, “When did you come here?”
“Last night,” she said.
“How is your … new home?” I didn’t know what I should call it, ‘Her husband’s home.’
“It’s fine. What you’ve been up to?”
“I completed my degree, now I am looking for jobs.”
“Big dreams, huh?” she flexed her shoulders and tilted her face slightly.
“Not as big as I thought,” I looked away.
“What?” She lifted her eyebrows in confusion. She moved closer to the wall between us, a little too fast that her boobs bounced slightly. My eyes fell on her cleavage, slightly visible through her dupatta.
My eyes had no intention of shifting from what they were at, but then I heard a voice, which seemed to be coming from far away, “What do u mean?”
As I came back into my senses, I smoothly closed my eyes and rolled them back to look at her face, the picture of her cleavage was still clear in my head. Her lips were stretched in a big smile, with her little, white teeth peeking. It was clear that she knew. I was relieved that she was not offended. I guess she knew it was not totally my fault. She repeated a little seriously, “What did you mean by that?”
“I mean, I was expecting a little better from myself than what I am doing right now.”
“It’s alright, we don’t always get what we dream of. At least, you get to live some of your dreams.”
There was a truth in that, but her tone sounded like it was more about her than me.
‘Why at least?’ the words raised many questions in my head. I asked, “Now, what did you mean by that?”
She shook her head, and replied, “Nothing, Anyway, what did you actually dream of?” she said while looking down.
I was sure she was ignoring the question. I didn’t want to press it either.
“Not much, it’s just, when I see all my friends getting good jobs abroad, I wish I had taken my college a little more seriously.”
“Well, it’s not that bad. I am sure you’ll get a great job”, she said, assuring me. Her eyes were pretty convincing.
There was a moment of silence.
“So, you lived in a hostel, how’s hostel life?” she changed the topic.
“It’s really fun. It’s the best thing happened to me in college.”
“Were there girls?” She sounded curious.
“Well yeah, but in separate hostels.” I smiled, with a little disappointment in my eyes. She laughed, then looked down.
“Did you have any girlfriends?” she asked while looking down. She was rolling her dupatta into her fingers. It’s pretty funny that girls get very open after marriage about these things. I can’t even mention her husband without hesitation.
“No, just some friends who were girls, but nothing serious.” I smiled, thinking that was funny; she didn’t.
She looked at me, and then looked down in a way which made me feel that what’s coming next is not going to be comfortable. She moved a slice of her hair from the front of her eyes to the side of her ear, with the tip of her fingers. ‘Killing move’, I almost said it.
She asked “Did you… I mean, did you have …”
I was wishing ‘please not the s-word’.
“…crush on someone?” I completed before she could finish.
“No,” she laughed aloud, it wasn’t what she meant to ask, “But, did you?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t want to lie. She was still smiling, but her eyes looked curious.
“She was my senior,” I continued. “She was the first person I talked to in the college. We talked often. I remember almost every conversation with her. But nothing happened because I never made any move. I never thought it would work; we were very different persons. And, she already had a boyfriend.” I looked down.
Her smile faded, but from her eyes, it seemed, she was interested in what I had to say. But, this was my turn to ask a personal question. “What about you, did you have any crush? I mean, before you got married (it was an arranged marriage).”
“No,” she replied, “Never liked güvenilir bahis siteleri anyone from school. When I went to college, I knew I was going to get married after that, so I didn’t see any point in keeping up false hopes.” She looked away.
This was a typical story of almost every girl in town. I didn’t want to rub it on her face. I was running out of things to talk about. I said, “Talking of marriage, how is married life?”
I was always curious about what girls felt after marriage at this age.
She didn’t reply for a moment, then said, “It’s alright,” with a perfunctory smile. Her countenance betrayed her. I knew I was stepping into the danger zone. A part of me kept saying, ‘Get out of here,’ but I didn’t listen.
“Sorry, maybe it was not my place to ask, but your eyes are telling me the exact opposite.”
She looked down, and back at me then said, “It’s nothing.”
I always thought marriages are boring. “Is it boring?”
I knew it was pretty stupid, and immature to ask. It’s her life we were talking about, not a child’s play.
She smiled, but the pain in her eyes was totally clear, “No, for me, it’s far from boring.”
Now I was dying to know what exactly was going on with her, but I had no idea what to ask. It was a very sensitive topic, and I had zero experience in, even talking about it. I noticed she was getting anxious. She was looking down. I knew our conversation was over, and that she is going to leave now.
Before she could say goodbye, I said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You did not,” she said almost immediately. “It’s complicated. I shouldn’t be talking to you about all this.”
I guess she was right. She should be talking to someone with experience. But was there anyone she could talk to, like her mother or someone?
I wanted to ask, ‘complicated how?’ but that would have surely made her more uncomfortable, “Have you talked to anyone about it?” I asked.
She shook her head in a no. “Anyway, I should not be complaining about my life,” she continued, “nobody’s life is perfect. I should be happy with what l have.” I could see the tears forming in her eyes.
“That’s not completely true, you can’t force yourself to be happy. If something is bothering you, you should talk about it. Talk to someone you are comfortable with, someone who understands you.” I wasn’t even finished with my sentence when tears rolled down from her beautiful eyes, over her flawless, fair-skinned cheeks; came down to her beautiful chin, and got collected into a big drop. She was looking down, trying to controls her emotions, and to hide her tears, but completely failing.
She suddenly looked up, and said, “That’s the problem, no one is going to understand. They don’t even listen to me.” Her voice was louder and deeper. Her throat was heavy with the emotions. “No one listens to me, because no one cares about me,” she spoke in a single breath, rubbing off the tears, with her hands.
Before I could say something, she turned around and started walking away. It was clear that she was hurting, and didn’t want to talk. As she was turning, the drops of tear fell from her chin and landed on the leaves of the creeper plant which was spread over the boundary between our houses. I knew she was going to run towards her house. I was thinking, clearly, something was wrong, so either I could just let her go, and regret about not stopping her, or I could try to help her. But in order to do that, first, I had to find about what was wrong with her. Or maybe I wasn’t thinking at all.
I jumped over the boundary and held her right hand which was flowing in an arc toward me as she began to run. She lost her balance, but before she could fall, I pulled her towards me and held her close with both of her arms. She started shivering with fear and shock. Her eyes met mine; besides the feeling of fear, and shock, there was a hint of anger in her eyes. I stood still, holding her by her arms as tears rolled down across her cheeks.
She suddenly jerked her arms out of my grip. I was almost sure she was going to slap me on the face for what I had done. But instead, she stood still, looking down, and continued crying. I didn’t know what to do next. I never had a girl this close to me before. I was shaking too.
Somehow, I managed to gather all the courage in my body, and said, “If no one is listening to you, then maybe you should be talking to me, cause I’m the only one who is listening.”
She did not reply, didn’t even react to what I had said. But I was not afraid anymore. I took a step toward her, slowly. She was still looking down, but she did not move back. Her face was partially covered with her hair from the sides, covering her eyes. I moved the bunch of hair from her face to back of her ears. I placed both my hands on both sides of her face (I had no idea what I was doing) and lifted her face. She looked at me with her sad eyes and then closed them. I wiped the tears off her cheeks with my thumbs. Her skin was smoother than anything I iddaa siteleri had ever imagined.
I was holding her face by sides, and her eyes were closed, while her tears were still rolling out of them. I hated girls for crying. Most of the time, they cry for no reason. This was not one of those moments. This wasn’t the first time I had made a girl cry either. But, it was the first when I was assuaging her. ‘What a mess I’ve got myself into’ I cursed to myself.
She was beginning to relax, at least, by the look that was on her face. I was watching her goddess-like face, just a few inches away from mine. I felt my heart rate rising. My eyes shifted to her lips; I knew that was a mistake. Now, all I wanted to do was kiss her lips, I wanted to kiss all over her face.
I would have done so if the situation would have been any different – if she wasn’t crying. I looked back on her eyes. I decided to end all this before something weird happened, but first I had to calm myself down.
I took a deep breath then said, “Neha, are you all right?”
She nodded, ‘Yes,’ her eyes were still closed.
That was a huge relief for me.
I said, “Listen to me”. She opened her eyes and looked straight into mine. They were a little red with tears now. “The last thing I wanted to do is to make you cry”.
“You didn’t,” she interrupted. “It’s been a habit, lately.”
“What I meant is that, it’s true that life sucks. It’s also true that we can’t keep complaining about every small problem we have in our life. We should look at the bigger picture, try to focus on all the good things we have, and be happy about it.”
“But, at the same time, it is also true that if something is seriously bothering us, no matter how small it is, then we shouldn’t burn ourselves from inside, and keep living with it. We should change it, no matter how hard it is. We should always fight for our happiness. Happiness is not cheap, it’s not easy, it takes courage, and hard work to be happy, but still, we should always choose to be happy.”
While I was saying all that nonsense, I kept staring into her eyes, they were hypnotizing. I didn’t realize I was still holding her face into my hands. I didn’t realize, the space between our faces was closing; neither did I realize, I was pulling her face toward mine until I planted my lips onto hers.
I closed my eyes, pressed my lips against hers, and kept it there for a few seconds.
As I came back into my senses, I realized there was no resistance from her side either. I pulled myself back and freed her face from my hands. She was looking at me with her eyes wide open. I could not find any appropriate words to apologize, so I kept silent and waited for her to react.
There was a moment of silence, then she took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, tears rolled out of the side of her both eyes at the same time. She suddenly turned around and started walking away. My feeling of guilt was changing into anger, and frustration, I almost shouted: “STOP… please!!”
“Say something if you think I’ve done something wrong, then slap me on the face. Just don’t leave me hanging here like this… feeling all guilty for you.”
She didn’t react.
“It wasn’t totally my fault. You didn’t stop me either.” I shouldn’t have said that I realized immediately. Now, I deserved that slap on the face.
She wiped her eyes with the tip of her fingers, then she turned, and looked straight at me. Her eyes were red, and still glassy with tears, but mostly, there was anger in them. She spoke, not loudly, but strongly, “I didn’t stop you, because maybe, I didn’t want you to stop.” It made me a little nervous.
“But… but, It was wrong.” I was totally confused. I was still thinking about what she had said.
“That’s what I thought,” she exhaled and took her eyes off me.
After a moment, I decided something. I wasn’t sure about the consequence, but now I didn’t care. I almost ran toward her and placed my right arm around her waist. She leaned back a little. I supported her with my left hand on her neck, and kissed her lips. She kissed me back while placing her hands on the back of my head. We opened our mouths almost at the same time, then it was all lips and tongues.
I didn’t know if my other body part existed for that moment, thinking about the surroundings, and neighbour was way too far. My arms were getting tight around her, and she was pulling me closer. I could feel her boobs pressed against my chest. She had the perfect height, roughly two inches shorter than me. Her fingers were playing with my hair on the back of my head. Stopping didn’t seem to be an option.
After a while, we heard a faint voice, “Neha”. She pulled herself back. Her face had turned red with shock, or with excitement, or both. At least, she wasn’t crying anymore. We heart it again, this time louder and clearer. “It’s my mum, she is coming here looking for me,” she said.
I panicked. She grabbed my hands and paced toward the boundary between our houses. She jumped across it to my side, I followed without thinking. We sat under the boundary wall and slipped under the plants. It was dense, no one could see us now. Her mother was near, she called her name, again. We could hear her footsteps closing on us.
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