The boy who was an untouchable

As I squat on the dusty floor of the classroom

behind dozens of lucky chaps my age,

irritated by cockroaches and mosquitoes,

trying to make out the strange figures

strewn indefinitely on the blackboard,

I longed, longed so much

to sit proudly on a bench and nod off

like my luckier colleagues of high birth

Alas! I could not,

because I am a low-caste.

From the baseness of the coarse floor,

looking up at the burly teacher

lecturing voraciously about something,

something called polynomial-

I just dozed off on the floor,

the books becoming my makeshift pillow-

only to be aroused by the bell.

Looking around, I could see no one.

No one at all.

But yes! There was someone

sitting on the front bench-

textbooks closed, head on the desk.

I got up, stole my way

to the lone little thing

who seemed to be dozing.

Her black curls twirled their way

down, to her fair temple

I longed to touch their silk-

but no, that was taboo!

Because I am a low-caste.

I looked at her flowing tresses

my heart skipping a beat

every now and then

my mind choked with longing

to be her friend.

For that, I had to sit on a bench.

Alas! I'm but a low-caste.

She woke up suddenly with a start

making me almost shriek.

Mumbling a sorry, I looked down.

Seeing her beautiful feet,

I cursed myself.

Why am I a low-caste?

I thought the girl just smiled

I lacked the courage to look up at her face.

"Look up, my friend," said she,

"there's no need to be ashamed."

Friend? Did she just call me - "her friend"?

I looked up at her, half-apologetically.

There she was, putting on a smile

that could throb my heart, in fact - any heart

even after it ceased to beat.

I cannot be your friend, no-

my mind yelled at the form in front-

just because I'm a low-caste.

She opened her lunchbox and

offered me a roti.

Hunger yanking at my stomach,

I nodded softly, telling her,

"No, I cannot take it

because I'm a low-caste."

She just thrust the roti at me,

rolling her eyes adamantly.

I mumbled an inaudible thank you

and squat on the floor.

"Sit on a bench, my friend," she said.

I stared blankly at her.

What was she, a reformer, or a fairy?

"Caste and classroom do not correlate.

Have your seat up here."

I lifted myself up, brushing my clothes.

Gratefully, I sat on the nearest bench

silently thanking the pretty girl.

I no longer felt like an untouchable-

she had broken all the barriers for me.

We became the best of friends

talking, playing, eating together.

She would help me with homework,

I taught her how to draw cartoons.

Thus we moved up classes

I had started to fare better at studies.

Now she meant much more to me-

more than a friend.

She did not come to school that day

and the next day

Puzzled I was, spending the whole day

staring at the emptiness of the first bench.

I heard someone telling about

some ceremony at her house.

I decided to meet her there,

for, I could not live for long

without seeing my sun, my moon.

the lone star of my galaxy,

the planet around which I revolved.

I wrapped myself in an old dhoti

lest her relatives should shoo me away

because I am of low birth.

Before me was a small procession

carrying something wrapped in vermilion.

I followed the procession closely

taking care not to be seen

for, if caught, they would throw me away

kust because I'm of low-caste.

Chanting names of sundry gods,

they set the thing down on dry logs.

I looked around to see her.

A breeze just brushed the cloth away-

those were unmistakably- her feet!!

I could see nothing,

a huge dark cloud shrouded my eyes.

I couldn't believe it - was my goddess dead?

I found myself on the sand

I think I had collapsed.

Getting up, I ran to her, her mortal remains

which were nothing, but ashes.

The ashes who taught me

not to be ashamed

just because I was an untouchable.