Moti is growing her belly

Prologue
It was cool, lightless evening. As I was returning to my room on my motorbike, the headlight focused on a tall, young boy on the left pavement of the Babarmahal-Anamnagar way. The boy walked in haste with long paces. His little long-feathered bag was swinging on the left shoulder through his thigh. My eyes easily identified the boy with whom I walked together for four years during school days. I geared-down my bike and halted. “Hey!” I said. Fearfully, he stood and looked at me for seconds. He didn’t recognize me as a helmet hid my head.
“Can you please take off your helmet?” he requested. 
“You’ve changed!” he said, surprised.
“Oye…! Make call your room mate. We will spend tonight together. No excuse. Nothing. Come, just sit back.”
He could not ignore my command and sat behind me. I bought some drinks and snacks. I unlocked the door, took off my helmet, replaced my jeans with a half pant and moved to the kitchen. In a period of about half an hour I prepared the meat. I brought water and a bottle of red whisky. We sat down on the carpet and cheered up.
The first peck went well and so did the second one. By the third peck the whisky started making his eyes smaller, cheeks red and voice intoxicated or inebriated. I think I also did look like him.
“Oe! Talai lagyo? (Are you drunk)” I asked.
“Nope dude!, I am cool, but I think you are drunk. Look, Look you are swinging. Hahahaha…”
My phone beeped.
“Oe! Your darling SMSing,” he said.
Of course, I got an SMS from my girlfriend of two years. I sent a reply.
“Hey! What about your Moti? How is it going on? Good na?” I asked.
“Moti soti ….Bhad mein gaye” “I broke up with her” “I fucked her up”. He said moving his right hands up. His head was not in his control.
“What did she do? What’s wrong with her”, “Why did you break up with her” “Does she love another boy?” I asked shocked. It was  10:00pm.
“Nothing like that”, “Come on! Listen to me, I will tell you everything tonight. You will get everything”. He said seriously.
*******
Samir starts his story:

“Sir, can you please give me your phone for a few seconds? I want to call my sister,”said Muna. “Sure! Take it but don’t gossip much,” I said.
I had seen Luna a couple of times when she came to meet her sister. She too might have seen me. But, I was sure she didn’t know which one was Samir sir in a crowd of forty teaching staff.
It was five in the evening. I was still in school as I had a coaching class for residential students from 6:00pm to 7:30pm (including Luna’s sister Muna). I finished my duty for the day, took
dinner in the hostel and returned to my room. As I was preparing hand-outs for the 10th grade, my phone rang. I saw a new number calling. I received my call. “Samir sir, Namaste, it’s me Luna. Muna’s sister” she started the conversation. We talked for about ten minutes exchanging introductions. From that day on, there was not a single day that we didn’t talk over the phone. Every evening, we had long conversations that sometimes laster for hours.
Two months passed. One evening as I was returing after my coaching class my phone rang. It was Luna.
“Samir sir, can you please drop my sister off to my room immediately? I have something special tonight.  I have already asked the warden’s permission. “Pleaaaaaaaase!!!  Hope to see you soon here, bye,” she hung up. 
We reached Pepsicola after a whirling ride of about half an hour from Kupondole. Some boys and girls were cheering up whisky there. A cake with some candles burning was ready to be cut. I sang clapping my hands-Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday to You!!, Happy Birthday to Ms Luna! All stood up and looked at me. “Thank you very much Samir sir,” she handed me a knife and asked me to cut the cake. A glass of whisky was prepared for me by one of her friends. I couldn’t refuse it.
The two-hour celebration ended. By then, I was drunk; I couldn’t even stand properly. One of her friends dropped me to my room.
The following day, I was sitting in the staff room engaged in some correction when my cell beeped. It was her SMS. “I Love You”. I was shocked. I had not even thought yet of being her boyfriend. I couldn’t understand the meaning of the “I Love You”. I kept on staring at the three words of her text.
I was a grown man, yet I had never fallen in love before. I didn’t have any experience of the abstract feeling— LOVE. I became completely indecisive, couldn’t go through any of my works. I kept leaning back on my chair and thinking for long. Finally, I couldn’t ignore her proposal so texted back “I love you too”.
A long thirty-four days’ festive vacation commenced in the school.
I used to be with her from early morning till late in the evening. Days would be wonderful when we were together. We grazed almost all the dating spots of Kathmandu. One fine morning we decided to visit Dakshinkali Temple as well. We performed Puja there, roamed about  and even indulged in some local specialties like dalle khurshani, black-peeper, amala and lapsi.
“Why are you closing your mouth?? Speak something!” She uttered as I was keeping quiet and riding the two-wheeler on an approximate speed of 80km/hr. “Don’t you feel the speed of the bike?? How can I talk to you nonstop when I am riding???” I yelled as heavy wind blew against us.
“Baba I have heard Dakshankali separates the relationship between a boy and a girl if they are in a love affair. So we shouldn’t have visited this temple,” she said doubtfully as we were returning. I was keeping myself quiet and riding the motorbike. “I didn’t know this, Why didn’t you tell me before we decided to come here?” I questioned. She too remained silent. I dropped her to her room and I returned to mine. At about 5:00pm my mobile phone rang. I picked up the phone. It was she calling; she invited me to dinner that night.
That night her sister Muna was also with us.  She addressed me Bhinaju though I was her teacher. Muna was preparing additional items for dinner. Luna was talking to me cheering up the Local Kodoko Raksi brought from her village as a Koselee.  It was 9:00 pm when the dinner was ready. By then, Luna and I were drunk. 
As I was heading a spoonful food to my mouth, my mobile phone rang. It was an unknown number, a landline.
“Sir Good evening” a voice greeted me.
 “Good evening, who is this?” I asked.
“It’s me Nalina, your old student. I am calling you from Naxal,” the voice answered. 
Nalina and I talked over phone for a few minutes as if we were closest friends. The first two minutes passed in formal chatting. 
Suddenly, Luna snatched my mobile phone. “Who are you to call my boyfriend at this hour?” Luna shouted.
“I am Samir sir’s student. Who are you” Nalina replied politely.
“As a student you should know not to spend out of your bounds. If I find you calling my boyfriend ever again, I am not going to leave you,” Luna shouted angrily.
My anger knew no bounds. I couldn’t tolerate the words she threw against my student. I snatched my mobile phone from her and banged against the cemented wall of her room. It split into several parts. I couldn’t control myself. I tried to run away from her. But she obstructed my way. She held me tightly and laid me down to the bed. I struggled to be away from her and finally succeed too. I locked her inside her room and rode away.
The next day, she sent my mobile phone with her sister. She called me several times and requested to meet her but I refused.
After six months, she called me to meet her in a park at Kupondole. I agreed to meet her on a condition; that we would not talk about the past. She agreed. This time, when I met her, I was surprised to see her transformation to a woman from the girl I had had affair with. She was dressed in a red Saree and red blouse; a necklace hung around her neck. Both her hands were adorned with red bangles, long ear pendants swung on her ears and a line of Sindur was on head. Most interestingly, she had grown fleshy; her stomach bulged out with a baby inside.
                    *****
Epilogue
“Moti is growing her belly my friend,” Samir said in a cheerful voice.
Samir completed his story by 12:30. The whisky bottle was emptied by then. The two of us went to bed.
- Sanjaya Regmi

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