Second Last Life

Chapter 3

“God! It’s too hot! How the hell are you being able to survive in this sultry weather with your hair down? Your neck must be sweating,” Tiyash noticed how each strand of Isabelle’s hair rolled down like the softest cascade ever and curled up to the insides as soon as they reached her hips.

“No, I don’t feel the heat to be honest. And I am comfortable enough as to leave my hair untied,” Isabelle apprised. Tiyash nodded with his lips puckered, his eyes still studying the shiny golden fibers arranged neatly against her back. Golden hair huh? How would it feel if he got to touch them once? Would they be as silky and smooth as they appeared? He was so immersed in his thoughts, that he unconsciously lifted his hand to brush his knuckles against her hair.

Isabelle shook him out of his thoughts when she stopped suddenly and turned back in the blink of an eye. “I want to eat cake!” Isabelle balled up her fists and enthusiastically waited for Tiyash to reply. Tiyash was on the verge of saying ‘no’, but he restrained his tongue from saying so because he was aware of Isabelle’s pathetic condition. She had undergone such hardship, including acute starvation, that it would make Tiyash a sinner if he did not buy her food.

“Is this the shop you stole food from?” Tiyash lifted his gaze to read the name of the bakery. "Govinda Sweets".

“Okay, you want cake, right? Let’s just get inside first,” Tiyash walked a short distance before climbing up the stairs. He turned back to find that Isabelle was staring at him with enthralled contemplation. “You have a kind heart,” Isabelle smiled sweetly, “I feel adored.” Tiyash stared at her face for a while. He did not even realize that he too was smiling. “Thanks Isa,” he grinned and beckoned her to follow him into the store. Isabelle scurried towards Tiyash and gripped the back of his T-shirt. “Hey! What are you doing?” Tiyash reached his hand back to free his cloth.

“Please, let me hold onto this fabric,” Isabelle pleaded.

“But why?”

“I…I’m nervous.”

“Wha-! What is the reason of your nervousness? Is it because you sto-,” Isabelle was quick enough to put her palm over his lips, else he would’ve created quite a bit of suspicion among the staffs.

“Oops, sorry, I did not mean to say it out so loud,” Tiyash laughed awkwardly.

“You would’ve made me fall in trouble!” Isabelle pressed her lips together, emitting a weird noise that made Tiyash giggle.

“I’m not nervous for that reason,” Isabelle closed the door after Tiyash entered. “Then tell me the actual cause,” Tiyash leaned towards her to hear it secretly.

“I’m not telling you,” Isabelle directed her pointer finger towards Tiyash’s chest and stuck her tongue out. “It’s nothing illicit though, so don’t worry,” she shrugged.

“Well, I’ll leave you this time. Choose whatever you want to eat. Quick. We need to catch the train.”

Tiyash pocketed out his purse to check the amount of money he still carried with him. He needed to save some coins for transport.

“I want to eat this cake!” Isabelle cheerfully waved at him and pointed towards a big birthday cake that costed…more than what Tiyash was planning to spend.

“Are you crazy? This cake will not be able to fit inside your tiny stomach. Better choose a cupcake or something smaller than this.” Isabelle puffed her cheeks and looked at the cake again. “I will be able to eat all of it. Please Tiyash, I have not eaten anything for so many days!” Tiyash cringed at the horrible mispronunciation of his name and went further to correct it. Isabelle paid no heed to his words and kept on staring at the large decorated piece of cake.

“Are you even listening?! Hey!” Tiyash snarled in frustration. The way Isabelle ogled at the cake that was ornamented with layers of chocolate, concealing the spongy mass inside, made her look like a girl in love. If somebody possesses that look while taking in your view, be assured that he or she is genuinely head over heels for you. Consider yourself lucky then.

“Money does not grow on trees. That’s why I can spend just a limited amount for your hunger. Sorry, but I’ll buy it for you the next time we come here.” Tiyash felt a bit woeful when Isabelle stooped her head low and said, “It’s fine.” He pouted unconsciously.

“May I have your order?” The old man standing on the other side of the worktop, interrogated.

“Yes, uhm…how much does this cake cost?” Tiyash directed the man’s attention towards the medium sized chocolate cake.

“It’s just three hundred, my son,” The man said. It was very easy for the man to roll the cost out of his tongue, but it definitely wasn’t easy for Tiyash to fish out the same amount from his purse. Tiyash spent a very small percentage of the sum he earned by providing art tuitions to ten children in his locality. The college fees, as well as rental charges were taken care of by his parents. He never spent his remunerations on any unworthy activities. Alternatively stated, he was the antonym of the word - spendthrift.

“Please stop being a miser and buy me the cake,” Isabelle remarked, after she observed the way Tiyash fiddled with the edges of the notes arranged inside the black leader.

“Hey Miss, this is my money. And it’s completely my choice to be a miser. You certainly have no say,” Tiyash charged back, a bit more harshly than he meant. Isabelle took a step back, dumbfounded. The ivory painted nose reddened up with a soft touch of crimson.

“You’re so mean!” Isabelle aimed his complaint at Tiyash and was about to turn back and run outside, when her wrist got grasped tightly.

“We’ll have the big cake. Yeah, that one over there,” Tiyash nodded when the man pointed his index finger at the specified food item. Isabelle slowly retraced back to her previous spot.

“Uhm, are you really buying me the cake I want?” Isabelle mumbled mellifluously.

“I cannot just let you have a misconception about me, can I?” Tiyash wiggled his eyebrows while he viewed Isabelle from the corner of his eyes.

“Sorry that I…labelled you as a miser,” Isabelle apologized.

“No problem,” Tiyash shrugged with the hand left free. The other one was still holding onto Isabelle’s wrist.

“You want it packed?” The man asked. Tiyash felt a bit uncomfortable when he reverted his attention back to the man. Under those knitted bushy grey eyebrows, laid two eyes that were studying him with utter skepticism. Tiyash’s eyes lingered on his face in order to try and reason out his suspicion filled gaze. Due to his delay in giving a reply, Isabelle thought of handling the situation herself.

“No, I’m too hungry to take it home!!” Isabelle yelled.

“Nobody asked you. So keep shut,” Tiyash scolded. “Yeah, pack it up.” Saying so, Tiyash let go of Isabelle’s wrist to take out the required amount.

“What’s the cost again?” Tiyash enquired.

“Five hundred,” replied the man.

Tiyash pinched the edge of a shiny new five hundred rupees note, and dragged it out of his purse, smoothly and slowly. He was feeling very reluctant.

He placed the significant piece of paper on the surface of the metal and pushed it towards the owner using two of his fingers. Both him and Isabelle waited patiently while watching the old man wrap the mouth-watering delicacy up. “Here,” the bushy brow old man handed over the paper bag to Tiyash.

“Thank you,” Tiyash said and smiled warmly to appear polite even though he felt at unease due to the fact that the man still did not stop looking at him like a creep.

“Let’s go Isabelle,” Tiyash encouraged Isabelle to start towards the door, when suddenly the man asked, ”Where are you coming from by the way?”

“You mean, where was I before I paid your shop a visit?” Tiyash questioned back.

“Y-Yeah,” The man nodded.

“The part of this town which is famous for its horrendous legends – The Wilson Elizabeth Mansion,” Tiyash informed with a casual attitude. He mentally laughed like a hyena when he saw the colour of the old man’s face fade away. An air of excessive pride filled up Tiyash’s lungs. Tiyash had discovered the truth behind all the rumours and myths created about the mansion. Although the verity was just a sad story of a helpless foreigner getting stranded in a barren land, yet his finding was quite praiseworthy. He could have explained everything in detail but he was running out of time. The train was definitely not going to wait for him to show up at the station.

“Okay then,” Tiyash waved a little goodbye and dragged Isabelle out of the shop. The bushy browed man’s mouth still remained wide open. He just could not bring himself to comprehend the things that took place in front of his eyes. At first, he thought that the kid was mentally unwell because he was quarrelling with thin air. But no sooner did he hear the place the kid had been to before arriving at his shop, his heart would not stop beating agonizingly faster than normal. His voice quavered as he spoke to himself, “I thought t-that the kid was crazy…but now that I think of it….,” and the sentence remained incomplete.

As soon as they stepped out of the shop, pushing the door close, Isabelle became visible to the world again. The incident that had occurred the last time she called on to the shop was undoubtedly a vivid retention. After spending an uncountable number of days by idly loitering around the town, Isabelle thought of doing something enlivening. The only problem was that she owned no clothes. And it would be utterly shameful to walk around the locality without being adorned by a decent dress. That’s when her eyes fell on the beautiful and vibrant red saree hanging down the railing of a veranda, probably for getting dried up in the sun. She knew how beautiful women looked by wrapping up the large stretch of fabric around their body in a particular fashion, letting the last part of the cloth fall over one of their shoulders and leave them hanging free with the fringes reaching their knees. She knew that there were people dwelling in the house and being a good girl, she did not want to take the saree away without seeking permission from the owner. She entered the house through the wall and took the initiative to look out for a person to talk to. To her disappointment, everyone was sleeping soundly and she did not want to disturb their afternoon siesta. Thus, her finalized plan comprised of her borrowing the red saree for a few hours, after which she would return it back by hanging it down the railing again.

Fortunately, the saree had completely dried off in the blistering heat of the sun. Isabelle slowly pulled it down and caringly gathered it up in between her arms. She returned back to the rugged mansion at the speed of lightening to start the second part of her program. The biggest problem was the fact that enveloping oneself with a saree was not as easy as it looked. A special technique is required to enwrap such a sartorial and Isabelle had no idea how that is done. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would not let her determination get subdued because of a mere lack of knowledge for a certain field. Well, that’s why it’s called ‘determination’, isn’t it?

After spending more than half an hour on winding herself up with the cloth, at last she considered herself ready for wandering out in the open with her borrowed saree. If only she had someone to tell her that she was wrong. The way the cloth entwined her body was quite indecent to be honest. It exposed most of her fair skin but thankfully concealed her private parts. Comparing her outfit with the normal custom, the only thing she did right was throw the last part of the drapery over her shoulder and hang it down her back. And if I speak about the other portion, Isabelle messed it up with ace.

As soon as she started forward, she stepped on the lowermost portion of the cloth. On losing her balance, her front collided with the floor. “This is bad,” she said as her smiled dropped. Isabelle was not willing to give up though. She somehow shortened the vertical length of the saree by folding it up at her waist. This time she did not stumble and fall again.

Isabelle did not waste a second more and scampered out of the manor. At first, she was a bit shy to flaunt her new look to the people in her surroundings. This was because of the bizarre way they glanced at her and whispered judgemental words into each other’s ears. Those who did not have a companion at their side to share their criticism with, shamelessly stared at her haphazardly covered body. She tried to camouflage her insecurity with a confident posture and solemn expression on her face.

She had travelled a lot and visited the places she adored which included the lake side park, the newly opened kindergarten, the farm and so on. On her way she got to meet three boys. She wanted to make new friends (well, it’s not like she had old ones too), so she called out to them and waved her hand as a substitute for an afternoon greeting. The boys were probably completed their teenage days. They had motorcycles along with them and carried cigarettes in their pockets as well as in between their lips.

“Foreigner beauty!!” One of them pointed at her and immediately looked at his friend with widened eyes. They gaped at her for sometime, after which she was beckoned by them to go closer. She was extremely delighted to find people who seemed to be genuinely interested in initiating a conversation.

“W-What’s your name?” One of the boys spoke to her in his mother tongue. Isabelle understood what he wanted to convey, so she answered his question.

“You look so beautiful,” The other boy in red sunglasses complimented her. His eyes travelled lower in order to take in a complete view of the magnificent creature in front of him. One of them suddenly clutched her wrist and yanked her nearer. She stumbled upon the end of the saree and was about to fall down again but luckily grabbed hold of the handle of the bike. She clutched the fold of her saree to ensure that the red fabric was still hugging her body in the same manner that it did earlier. Isabelle did not find herself at ease when she sensed the presence of a hand on the exposed portion of her belly. She instinctively retracted back to avoid any further physical contact with that person.

“Where are you going sweetie?” The same boy stood up straight and immediately leaned towards her to grasp her wrist tight.

Horrified and tensed, Isabelle yanked her hand hard enough to send the brat flying across the street. The way he somersaulted at the beginning of the throw was mind boggling, but at the end he hit a lamp post and slipped onto the road smoothly like a dead man.

The other two boys dumbfoundedly stared at the figure that helplessly laid on the street, wiggling with pain. They did not even harbor the tiniest bit of courage to avenge for their friend’s agony. They preferred to remain motionless instead. Isabelle took the opportunity to abscond from the unnerving situation and ran wherever her eyes guided her. After tracing a few meters, she collide with a woman at the turning. “Oooh! It hurts!” The woman yelled while laying on her back. She was pretty sure that she was hit by a car or any such vehicle. She was scared of the possibility of having her hips broken by the sudden thrust of the asphalt.

“I’m so sorry! I hope you are not hurt much,” Isabelle mewled as she leaned down and offered her hand.

“Was it you who crashed into me just a few moments ago?” The woman looked at Isabelle with disbelief in her eyes. The feeling of pain got overshadowed by confusion.

“Yeah. And I’m terribly sorry about it.” Isabelle apologized and helped the lady to stand on her feet.

This was the first time she saw a white girl in front of her eyes. There was no way she could not admire her beauty which included her oceanic blue eyes and lips resembling rose petals. It did not take her long to land her sight on the licentious garment that hugged Isabelle’s body. She flinched away with disgust and probably created a wrong assumption about the purpose behind Isabelle dressing up in such a way.

In her native language, she began to haul Isabelle over the coals. Poor Isabelle. She could understand that each harsh word that struck her chest like an arrow also bear a feather of good advise at the back. The only problem was that the lady was not giving her a chance to speak up about her lack of knowledge in wearing sarees. And it was also true that she was not as fluent in Bengali as the person in front of her.

“Have you got no shame? I know all foreigners wear the least amount of clothing possible, but this is India. You have to dress up decently to walk around a town in West Bengal,” The middle aged lady, presented her views straight forwardly.

“I’m so sorry. If only I knew how to wrap this fabric around me…,” Isabelle stared at the lady adorably. As if she were a puppy repenting for its mistake.

“Let’s hurry and find a place to dress you up properly. I’m a maid servant, so it’s necessary for me to reach the required house soon,” The lady grabbed Isabelle’s hand and lead her to a teashop. The owner of the stall blinked twice with a blank expression on seeing her mother-in-law enter her shop with a foreigner girl dressed like an Indian.

“Who is she?” asked the weary eyed young lady sitting on a wooden stool.

“I don’t know her name…she needs a helping hand to wear her saree in a proper way.”

“Uhm…my name is Isabelle. Isabelle Mary Kingston.”

“Ijabell?”

“Isabelle.”

“It’s the same,” the stout middle-aged woman put forward her notion.

Apparently, Isabelle was a little scared of her. She seemed nice, but her behavior felt intimidating. So she did not argue back and allowed her to pronounce her name in the way she felt right.

“When you can’t wear a saree, why bother draping it around your body? Or could you not have asked someone to help you?” the woman kept on asking questions. Isabelle did not want to disclose her secret, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Kamala! I’m quite sure you have an extra blouse and petticoat with you. Let her borrow it.”

“I will surely return it to you later,” Isabelle said, responsibly.

“Good. Now you look more beautiful than earlier. Red looks mesmerizing on you,” The lady turned around to ask her daughter-in-law whether she approved. The young woman appreciated her look as well. This made Isabelle much more confident about herself and she expressed her gratitude by kissing both the ladies on their cheeks. A very English style indeed.

She waved goodbye to both of the lovely people and set out to explore more of the modern town. It’s not that she did not roam around the town in the past. It was the lack of clothes that forbid her from interacting with people. Sometimes she would show herself to the doggies in the neighbourhood and spend time with them, play and pet them. But she missed talking to people a lot.

She stopped in front of a Bakery and through the window of the shop, she viewed the elegant pastries and cakes arranged on the racks and stalls. Her mouth watered instantly as she took in the view of those delicious food waiting patiently to be eaten. She smacked her lips unconsciously and started towards the door.

No sooner did she enter, she asked for various cakes of different flavours. “Should I pac-“.

“No, I’ll have them now,” Isabelle grinned.

The owner looked at her in confusion. “You are going to sit and have them all? Now?”

“Yes,” the grin still remained plastered to Isabelle’s face.

“It seems like she has a big appetite,” he thought. “Do you live in India? Or…are you a tourist?”

“I have been living in India for a very long time. My grandfather was the first to build a residence in here.”

“Oh I see. That’s impressive...just sit over there. I’ll bring you the orders.”

It took Isabelle only ten minutes to finish eleven huge pieces of cake. The old man behind the counter kept on staring blankly at the hungry girl with golden hair and red saree consuming the big blocks of cake like a starved lion.

“Can I have one more? No wait, two more will be fine for me!” Isabelle waved at him.

“How can she fit this much food in her stomach?” The owner thought. Not that he cared about her health. It was just a matter of fact that she amazed him more than any soul ever did.

After gulping down fifteen large pieces of delicious cakes, but still having void in her supposed “stomach”, Isabelle thought about giving her ingestion a stop.

“Here is your bill,” The old man with his bushy brows pushed a piece of paper forward on the glass counter.

Isabelle pinched the edge of the paper and positioned it in front of her face.

“So…so much?”

“Yes mam…any problem?” The old man noticed that she was not carrying any bag, or even a purse along with her. Where did she keep the money then? In the folds of her saree?

“But…,” Isabelle looked quite anxious. She was so in hurry to swallow down all the food that she forgot about the fact that one is required to pay money for the food he eats.

“How much money do you have?”

“N-Nothing…,” Isabelle ducked her head and whispered.

“What? How much?”

“Nothing!” Isabelle yelled and turned around one eighty degrees to run towards the door.

“W-What! Thief! Thief! Somebody, catch her!”

He, being an old man, did not bear enough stamina to run behind a lady who was far swifter than him. It was getting difficult for Isabelle to run with a cloth hanging down till her foot, so she pulled it up till her knees and started running again. After she opened the door and hopped outside, she turned invisible to everyone’s eyes. The old man walked out of the shop with pain in his hinges. Isabelle felt terribly sad for him and repented for her mistake, but there was nothing which she could do as an atonement.

 “We should really hurry up, else we’ll miss the train.” Tiyash urged Isabelle to walk faster. He too took longer strides and was warming himself up to run, in case the train arrived at the station before he did. He noticed how it was only him who was soaking wet with the liquid oozing out of his skin pores whereas Isabelle looked perfect as usual. She held the bag containing the cake protectively between her chest and arms and was trying her best to not bounce the treasure in her hands while moving forward.

“You…you really have a strong attraction to cakes, right?” Tiyash breathed out.

Isabelle did not say anything but the smile that she displayed on her face was enough of an answer.

If only Sarah behaved this sweetly with him every time he gathered up ample amount of courage to speak to her during class intervals…then he would have been able to savour the feeling of roaming about in the paradise even before his death. A sudden realization struck him hard. He successfully spent a night at the Wilson House, which meant that he was absolutely eligible for winning a date with Sarah! Just by thinking about how his date night would be like, a light blush spread over his brown cheeks. He could not stop smiling delightedly.

It took them ten minutes more to reach the terminus. Tiyash bent himself in half by resting his palms and supporting the upper portion of his body on his knees. It was evident that he was swimming in his own sweat. The last portion of the journey was covered by spending copious amount of energy. It was quite surprising that Isabelle had no beads of sweat covering her face. Even her T-shirt was as dry as the desert. Strange.

“You don’t swelter, do you?” Tiyash stood straight again and turned his body to. “That’s abnormal,” Tiyash pushed his eyebrows high enough to make it reach the fringes of his hair.

“Not abnormal. It’s extraordinary,” Kingston smiled brightly.

“Savage huh?” Tiyash sighed. “Okay, we can talk about this later. The train should be arriving at the platform soon. We need to cross the overbridge.” Tiyash held the straps of his backpack, and cursed out his anger. “Climbing up the stairs will be so tiring! Ugh!” Tiyash placed his hands on his hips.

“If you don’t mind, I can carry the shoulder bag for you,” Isabelle offered in a gentle manner.

“It’s insubstantial to be honest. I don’t need a helping hand,” Tiyash said.

“Then I can carry you up the stairs instead,” Isabelle tilted her head and smiled again.

Oh! The way that damned smile never left her face!

“Hmm. It’s a flirtatious joke indeed, but it would sound better if I was the one who cracked it,” Tiyash smirked and raised an eyebrow.

“But I’m being serious. If you are really feeling tired, then I can carry you to the other platform without a problem,” Isabelle looked undeniably resolute.

“No need Isa. I’m fine!” Tiyash knew that Isabelle was just trying to be hospitable, but Tiyash wasn’t feathery enough for Isabelle to carry him.

“Okay then. Let’s hurry,” Isabelle motioned him towards the flight of stairs leading them to the bridge ahead. Tiyash nodded and started following Isabelle who seemed to know more about the place than him.

“You should not leave my side. Else you are likely to get lost,” Tiyash advised and speeded up on seeing Isabelle move faster with each and every step she took. The platform was not so crowded like Tiyash thought it would be. It proved to be a relief though, else he would have definitely lost sight of Isabelle, judging by the way she energetically mounted the stairs. Tiyash made up his mind to work out daily to become as fit as the foreigner.