The Man at the Window – Her name was Mary - 6


Poppy invited me for lunch one Sunday and I happily obliged.  As I was walking to his house, I see Poppy walking out. He had just come back from church and was on his way to buy fish for the cat. I accompanied him to the market; it was entertaining to watch him bargain. Quite victorious on getting it for the price he wanted, we marched back home.  While his wife and the maid chatted away in the kitchen and prepared lunch, Poppy and I settled in with a peg of whiskey. I took a sip of my drink and watched him engrossed in his Sudoku. Even at 65, Poppy was a handsome man. I gathered courage from my whiskey and asked him how many girlfriends he had when he was younger. He put the Sudoku down and laughed heartily. “One” he answered.

It was 1971 and after months of assiduous studying, it was finally time to party. Poppy had just finished his “Junior Cambridge Exams” or class ten “Boards”, as we refer to them today, and was all set to shake a leg at the “Social” organized at school. The “Social” was a party organized for the senior boarders, after the final examinations had finished. It was a cherished event as both the girls and the boys partied together. It was here that Poppy had met “her”. She was a year ahead of him in school and a boarding prefect. He had noticed her at all his boxing matches and sports events but had never really spoken to her before. He was all dressed up that day, side locks, bell-bottoms and all. Today was the night. After an hour of exchanging glances, Poppy mustered the courage to ask her for a dance. She smiled coyly and accepted. They danced the floor away that night, having eyes only for each other. While their moves mesmerized everyone, they were lost in their own world. Chatting away like children, it was as if they had just this night. Like everything else, this night too, came to an end. Everyone was going home for vacations the next day and they promised to meet again.

Poppy waited eagerly for the one month vacation to end. They didn’t have phones in those days, to keep in touch and he couldn’t wait to see her again. “In those days it was called courting not dating” he said, “There’s a difference”. Their second meeting was different; no disco lights and jazzy shirts. They competed in the school debate competition. Poppy won and was half afraid she would be upset. She wasn’t. They shared their jam sandwiches and inquired about the others’ family and home. One meeting turned to two and two to three and before they knew it, it was a year already. She has finished her “Senior Cambridge Exams” and was leaving school. Her mother worked at the YMCA and with the excuse of finding out details, given he would need a place, in a year’s time; Poppy went to drop her home. He met her parents and ever so giggly younger sister. They too, lived in a small one bedroom apartment a little away from the school. Thus began a love story for ages to come.

Thin and tall, she had big beautiful eyes, pursed lips, a sharp nose and a perfect face. Her hair fell lightly, over her shoulders and her smile made your day. There was something stern and soft about her, at the same time. Her name was Mary.





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