Love Dies Virgin ..!!

By Vinayak Ghadi

This is another simple story of teenage love. The teenagers falling in love from two different communities, their family share a healthy and respectful relationship for generations and both families dont want to screw this up just because their kids fall in love. The story is about what normally happens in most of such cases; how families compromise; to which extent their own family can humiliate a loving couple; how they force them against their wishes and how these type of affairs are curbed. Forcing them to separate ..!!

A boy falls in love with a girl from his village whose parents are settled in Goa. They love each other; both families oppose them; in the end they try to flee from their homes but get caught and being brought back to home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Aug 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781482834680

Vinayak Ghadi

Vinayak is just another Indian IT Engineer living in Bangalore; born to a simple family in one of the small villages of Belgaum, he lives normal life. Having seen both rural and metro life; he relates the day to day struggle of every Indian to epic stories of Mahabharata. The unavoidable dogma faced by educated youth of this generation in a changing society expresses their experiences with older customs, traditions, social life in one or the other way and He tries to share his through his writings. An Engineer by profession and poet at heart; he scribbles poetic lines in Marathi on his Facebook page. Works for one of the largest IT companies at Bangalore, he enjoys his work to a greater extent. This is his first attempt to share his story to a larger audience. He believes one cannot simply plan to fall in love, it just happens ..!! and not everyone gets their first love..!!

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Vinayak Ghadi.

ISBN:          Softcover          978-1-4828-3469-7

                   eBook               978-1-4828-3468-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Partridge India

000 800 10062 62

www.partridgepublishing.com/india

Dedicated to my parents and grandparents for their unconditional love …!!

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YES, IT WAS SUNDAY morning. I woke up around 7.00am. Watching Rangoli (a TV show playing Bollywood songs) would be on my priority list on Sundays; it was undoubtedly a hit show during my childhood days. We didn’t had color TV set at home those days but my uncle had brought one TV set (it was 14inch black & white BPL TV set); ours was a big family, you can say many families lived together under one roof; imagine around twenty odd people watching some TV program in one room on a 14 inch black & White TV.

We lived in a big home but we had separate rooms for each family. I remember we would watch some movies connecting that TV to external CD player and it would still be fun. My usual routine was to grab a chair at TV room; switch on the TV before anyone else did proving I own the control over the remote. On the other hand Sachin; my cousin brother who would sleep in that room; would extend his sleep until someone told him Rangoli has begun and it started showing new songs… yeah you are right only new songs..!! He only loved to watch new songs.

According to Sachin Rangoli had a unique strategy for songs, they played old songs for first 20-30minutes of show and new songs for in the latter half of the show. He was not interested in watching slow moving and old fashioned songs. By the way that was trend followed by people who ran that show, he had discovered, hence he would ask my sister Reshma to wake him up once new songs actually started showing; he was not interested in old songs neither in Bollywood gossips. Anything which is slow moving; he would compare with me.

He would say Beta, you do not have taste and your mind runs like a tube light, I always ended up being at receiving ends of his taunts. And I never complained, he was an elder brother.

But by 7.30AM my mom would come there asking me to go to Balopasana (early morning one hour prayer for children every Sunday at Harimandir; a spiritual practice center). At Harimandir every child was given a book of Balopasana to read which had attendance sheet on its covers tracking your presence. Attendance wouldn’t be given if you go late for more than 10 minutes, my parents being the followers of Harimandir.

It was mandatory for me to attend and no excuses were entertained on Sundays. They made me attend the prayer either hook or by crook, I had no option than to attend. There was no escape; I tried all the tactics; acting like sick or trying to show as if I have studies etc. etc but nothing worked. ‘Sunday mornings were for Balopasana means Balopasana..!!’ Was the motto my dad put for me. No compromise on this, irrespective of what you are doing, which season it is or how much you cried; there was simply no excuse for that.

I guess it’s a great spiritual practice center which taught us discipline and moral values which helps building children’s character and personal values. By the time I returned back from prayer, it would be 8.45AM and I would miss watching most of the songs and Sachin would tease me for missing those most beautiful songs. He simply didn’t care how many times his mom scolded him to go to prayer, he lived by his principles;

I cannot tolerate anybody sending me for prayer forcibly. God will not forgive them who force their children to go to boring prayer in morning hours holiday means time for rest and nothing else he would say.

Neither He nor my sister came for prayers; they had an unimaginable understanding about it and their alliance ruled our childhood days; albeit they would wait until I come back from prayer to show how they have enjoyed the show.

Balopasana would start at 7.30AM and Rangoli at 8.00AM; despite many requests from children about shifting prayer timings to 9.00AM nobody even considered it. We knew show timings cannot be changed and neither prayer’s; changing prayer timings to let children watch Bollywood songs was an unacceptable phenomenon which would have resulted in embarrassment for elders. I hated going for prayer in the beginning but then it became a practice with time; and something which comes with sacrifices lasts longer. My mom would neither allow me to miss the prayers.

Anyways I would get to watch at least two to three last songs after returning from prayer (or at least two beautiful Bollywood faces) in the end. Hence only person to tell me which songs were played, which actor dances better and which actress has glamorous look was - Sachin. I had no option than to trust and listen him as he acted like Sanjaya of Mahabharata for me describing songs played during the show.

That morning I went to Harimandir; (A temple at around 300 meters from our home); I got the attendance seal on my prayer booklet; attended the prayer as usual; after prayer I was collecting my chappals at chappal stand and I saw someone new, I turned around to see if anybody is watching me. I checked that face again, definitely it was a new face; a girl with dark eyes, long red color full sleeves top which had few white color dots over it, Blue jeans; slightly loose folded at bottom and bright white belt over it. She looked innocent and calm on face. She was wearing thick blue color single bangle in left hand, and a silver color watch stretching over right hand wrist. Hairs neatly tied with hair band which was red too; she was amazing and looked like a pari …yes laal pari (Angel in red) for me… Whatever you call it..!!

I was in high school then and I thought of talking to her but could not dare; I was childish and shying boy. Then turned towards the gate as there were other children around and guess what? I was caught; it was Amya (Amit) my childhood buddy, I called him by his nick name Amya, famous for his misdeeds, he was our robin hood and he was the only friend who supported me in almost everything. He was passionate, entertaining and dashing enough to dare.

He started Ganya, what’s going on (He would call me ‘Ganya’ sometimes..!!)

Nothing me,

Don’t hide from me, I saw you staring at someone…!!! he again, he never considered what is he talking and where is he talking. Hence I had to rush towards him to take him away from the mandir premises before anybody else listen him.

Nothing, I saw you were staring at someone he again. This guy is nut and a straight forward macho man, would never lose any chance to tease me or embarrass me in public.

Staring..!! And me, are you mad? me trying to show my innocence.

Ok, leave it. We are getting late for Rangoli Amya said showing some mercy on me; I thought.

We walked towards home but my eyes still trying to see if I can get to see a glimpse of her again but I had no clue where she disappeared; ours is a small village and anyone can be easily found out. If you have guests at your home staying for long period most of the people would know them, she was guest for sure; I just had to figure out whose home she has come to.

Amya was nut and was much smarter than me except in studies, He could read my mind and it was hard to hide anything from him. On our way back to home he started.

Ganya, I saw you staring at Puja he was too intelligent to use her name this time, and I had no option to accept that I was looking at her because he told her name and he might know more about her.

Ohh, you’re talking about that girl which I saw at mandir in red dress?

He smiled saying Haan..!!, haan..!! Her name is Puja

Ok, she is nice. Isn’t she? me opening my mind.

Yeah, Abey vo Goa se hai Amya saying she is from Goa.

Ohh, how do you know about her? me.

I always knew less about girls. I failed to mingle with girls and ended up being called ‘Abhi baccha hai..!!’ typo tag from childhood. I used Amya to know more about girls or something which I felt inexpressible easily with others. I don’t understand the way few people are gifted with, they gel with girls, and then Amya was hero of our class, truly a macho man. Sometimes I envied him for being charming man in the class. He had an amazing presence of mind working with girls.

I can tell you everything about her but what would I get? he put his demand, a condition for something; a treat might be.

Ok, Bhaji plate and Adrak tea a famous ginger tea served at Mulla tea hotel, I knew he loved it. And tea was something I could afford those days.

Ok, Her name is Puja..!! Amya again.

That you told earlier I was impatient

Wait, hold on, she is Kulakarni sir’s niece, Do you remember Srikanth Kulakarni?

Yeah, that tall man; Kulkarni sirs brother who died few years ago during our exams

Good, she is his daughter and she is studying in tenth English medium school Amya. Putting stress on English medium. I know why he stressed on that; pointing me that she studied the same class we did but she was studying in English medium school. But that was not important for me, what hurt me was she had no dad.

Abey, I never saw her here..!! I asked Didn’t she come to her home for so many years?

Yeah, she rarely came here, she doesn’t like this village. Even if she comes, it would be only for 1-2 days

Ohh ok, and why she doesn’t like it?

That I never asked he said beta, I don’t know whether this information is useful to you or not but I owe a ginger tea from you Amya telling he would have ginger tea at any cost.

Arey, Don’t worry, we will have ginger tea this evening. I can understand most of the times you pay the bill, let me pay it this time and yes Amya was my generous buddy who paid our bills most of the times those days.

He had to leave me as we reached near his house, our home was on the same way but on the upper part of the village, His home was near to bus stop; nearer to Harimandir. It was not his dad’s house though; it was his mama’s (uncle’s) where he lived with his grandma and mama’s family; lovely family indeed who took care of Amya and his sister who stayed for studies at their maternal uncle’s home. Their dad’s was a distant village where education facility wasn’t good; his mama is high school teacher and a disciplinarian; took care of his sisters children with utmost importance and love.

But this too much of love bestowed on Amya had some negative impact too; he grew up more demanding and adamant. He asked for pocket money and never left for school without it. If he asks for something he would make them get it for him. Sometimes a tough boy to handle. People would often say he was grown adamant and crazy because of too much of grandma’s love and negligence by his parents. We agreed to meet in the evening and I walked towards my home.

That evening I went to Amya’s house (I mean his mama’s) to take him for tea as promised around in the morning. Their home is at prime location; adjacent to all government offices like Gram Panchayat, Banks etc. And close to Kulkarni galli…!! (Hmm yes it is..!!) From main road walking stretch of 10 meters to reach the entrance of their house; at entrance they have Tulsi Katta(Basil plant) where his grandma(aaji) would spend most of the time. Small entrance room had couple of wooden chairs and some photos over wall describing the family tree; it also connected bathroom on the right and big hall on opposite facing entrance. Hall was big, part of it was used as a bedroom by Amya; hall and kitchen were attached; one can watch TV program from kitchen without problem, His choti mami(younger aunt - Amya’s younger mama Ravi mama’s wife) would watch TV from there. Ohh..!! I missed they had Videocon color TV set.

I reached the entrance and as usual saw his grandma sitting at tulsi katta with some book in her hand. Most of the times she read books, it was rare to see her without books. She always asked me which new book I am reading; we both loved reading books (Marathi novels though). She had good collection of books; her trademark white chashma (specs) on white haired head; specs frames tied through black thread and white saree. She would look like Nyaydevata(goddess of justice) statue if asked to pose in that fashion.

I went to her, Namaste aaji… I said

Arey Ganesh, come here asking me to come towards her.

Oh, yes

How are you beta?

Am good aaji, how are you?

Hmm, nothing can be good in this age, everything works on almighty’s mercy she said showing me some mythological book she was reading. I didn’t ask which book it was but just saw god hanuman featuring over cover page. She too was regular visitor and follower of Harimandir like my mom. She would consider everything as sacred which is connected to or related to Harimandir. She had special place for me in her heart as I would not miss Balopasana as compared to Amya who did miss sometimes.

Is he there? I asked her if Amya was there at home.

Yes, check inside he might be watching TV and that was obvious.

I went inside, sat over sopha kept in the entrance room; There was a big photo of Amya’s grandpa (Who died of old age few years ago; he was retired forest officer which showed in the quality of furniture used at home) in the entrance room. Sopha was so big that anybody can sleep over it, by the time I could call Amya his grandma came and took me inside where Amya was sleeping. I never walked inside directly as it was a big family and their mami’s fought over one or the other reason regularly. You cannot ask two daughter in laws to stay at one home; Aaji would say sometimes..!!

He was awake though, he went to washroom to get freshen up; TV was switched on but it was playing some serial and not movie, I was surprised to see if Amya was watching it; after few minutes aaji brought tea for us. We were to go out for tea but had no option than to have it as it was his lovely grandma’s request.

We took tea cups, I put myself in the chair and Amya sat next to me. He tried to change the channel as expected but we heard Amit, don’t change the channel, this show will end in next 10 minutes, you can change it later sound came from inside, it was his choti mami watching TV from kitchen room’s corner leaving us no option than to keep quite. Hence we moved towards his study room; a shared study room by him and his mama;

Arun mama being a teacher had to do lot of paper work and hence room had two tables, you can find lots of books lying over mama’s table. Amya’s table would be clean; neither books nor any study material; he had Panasonic tape recorder kept on the table to listen to his favorite songs. Aamir Khan was his favorite star and most of his movie songs cassettes were on the table. Big photo of Sachin Tendulkar playing his trademark cricketing shot MRF written over his bat and SAHARA on T-shirt covered half the wall above the table. Amya was big follower of this demy god of cricket. You can ask him any information about Sachin; it was available on his fingertips; he would even tell you his century details with strike rate. Amya was good in calculations and even better in cricketing calculations.

He played ‘Ai mere humsafar’ from Qayamatse Qayamat Tak on his tape recorder; a soothing song sung by Udit Narayan and Alka Yagnik; one among my favorites too; I glanced at mama’s table listening the song and I saw new book lying there. It had warrior’s portrait in red and silver color on black background. I moved to see the book name in curiosity and guess what? it was ‘Mrityunjay’ one of the best novel by prominent Marathi writer Shivaji Chavan written based on life of Karna(A great character from our great epic mahabharata) having heard a lot about this book I was eager to know about it. I picked the book in my hands; it gave amazing feeling to look in the Karna’s eyes (the picture portrayed on cover page) I was fascinated; the royal face of karna portrayed on cover showed heavenly brightness on his face, cloths in silver color adding valor to his fighting spirit, the charm brought by his glowing eyes, symbolic kundala’s (gifted earrings pierced in ears) immortalized on the cover page. It was a thrilling experience just holding the book and looking at cover. Amya stopped the song and looked at me; he knew my craze for reading books. He had something to say.

Guess what?, who gifted this book to my mama? Amya asked.

How would I know? counter question by me as I had no clue who gave it.

He smiled like a nerd telling This is gifted by Kulakrni Aunty; Puja’s mom. She too is teacher at Goa who came to our home yesterday along with Puja to meet mama and aaji. Now I know how he knew about them in detail.

Kulkarni uncle was mama’s classmate they graduated from same college, he joined as a teacher at Goa and mama here but they were good friends like us he continued.

Ohh, that’s great, so this is how you know her? I said with glitter in my eyes.

Then what? his question. And an unhappy expression on his face.

Ok, good then, so are we going for ginger tea? I asked.

Off course man..!!!, let’s go he said switching off his tape recorder.

Amya took tea cups and went inside to keep it, I was still holding the book in my hands and Arun mama entered the room, He saw me with book and asked Hello Ganesh, what’s going on?

Nothing mama, just having look at this book me smiling, He always encouraged reading and knew my interests,

So you know about this book?

Yes, Heard a lot about this book and Shivaji Chavan is an awesome writer for sure..!!

Yes indeed, you can take this book if you want, I have once read it, but return once you finish mama guessed what I was thinking and permitted me to take it home for reading.

Thanks mama you knew what I would ask?

I was happy that he understood what I wanted that moment and I was grateful for that man. Clearly that’s the good quality of any teacher. I had read couple of books given by him earlier. He always encouraged reading.

Yes, I like your thrust for reading, keep reading, when nothing helps reading comes handy, I inherited this habit from my mom and I guess your dad too has similar passion he said

Thanks, yeah I know aaji reads a lot, my dad don’t read much but encourages me and any book I ask for he brings it for me

Good, but keep focus on studies as well he said while patting on my back and he left. I took that book with proud feeling of owning Mrityunjay for that moment.

We went outside for tea, Mulla