A few days later, I boarded her bus with some classmates. I'd asked them first, half embarrassed, half desperate, confessing that I wanted to be near Sneha - that I loved her. They exchanged knowing smiles but agreed, and somehow that gave me the courage to climb the steps of the bus.
She was there, near the front, her bag on her lap, staring out the window. I slipped into a seat at the back, pretending to laugh at something my friends said, but my eyes kept drifting forward.
My friends nudged me, whispering, "Go, talk to her."
The wind was streaming through the half open windows, tossing her hair across her face. She tucked a strand behind her ear, but it kept escaping, brushing her cheek again. In that moment she didn't seem like just Sneha - she looked like something out of a dream, delicate and unreachable. But her eyes… her eyes were clouded.
Something was wrong.
I leaned forward, my heart pounding.
"Sneha," I called softly.
No response. The bus rattled over a bump, and I tried again, louder this time.
"Sneha!"
She turned, startled. Her eyes widened as she met mine.
"Sorry, sorry," I blurted quickly, feeling the heat rush to my face.
"It's okay," she said quietly, her voice so low the rumble of the bus almost
swallowed it.
"You look upset… is something wrong?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She shook her head lightly. "No, I'm fine."
But her tone wasn't convincing. I hesitated, then stepped back toward my seat, but my friends weren't going to let me retreat so easily. One of them leaned close and whispered, grinning, "Tell her a joke - make her smile."
My palms were sweating. A joke? My mind scrambled, flipping through scraps of half remembered lines. Nervous, I remembered one from class.
I went back.
"Can I tell you a joke?"
She nodded.
"Yesterday, a man hanged in our place…"
Her eyes widened.
"…It was a spider," I finished quickly.
"Did you understand?"
"Yes," she said.
"Then smile!"
And she did. A small, precious smile.
When she reached her stop, she got down. I waved and shouted,
"Bye, dost!"
She turned and waved back.
"Bye."
That single word carried me for days.