Two Toe-Suckers and a Story of Heartbreak

I was never comfortable with girls. And one girl taught me the weirdest thing possible in my ordinary life – and that too when I was in primary school. Suck my toe.

It was gross – as I think of now. How could I do that? Didn’t I feel yucky? Didn’t it occur to me that it was way too bizarre? I guess, those questions are redundant, as in most of the cases, logic can’t explain your happiness.

All I had to do, sit on the torn mattress and bend down as far as possible – way to my folded legs – and then select a toe posed near ankle, and suck until either of it became smelly – so smelly that I couldn’t tolerate anymore, or the teacher noticed me.

I was not alone though. The girl - a tiny figure, whose oily hair was neatly divided into two strong ponytails and who did walk like hopping, with her ponytails swaying like two free beasts – taught that trick to a few others. But she was the best toe-sucker I ever seen.

It was my stop-gap school – a government run primary school whose one-store construction was simpler than the house painting of a four year old, and whose teachers were happy with writing things on board and then shouting back those to kids. I was already admitted to an English-medium school – a multi-story building with library and playground – where my elder brother was studying. But I had a couple of months with me before the classes would start. In primary school, you can be admitted anytime. So there I was, at the wish of my mighty father, not to waste my time playing around – rather going to a school and learn something.

Well, I did learn. Toe sucking.

I met the girl at the very first day of my school. She sat beside me. I was dressed properly – my blue-white uniform was already stitched, so I wore that with a white canvas shoe with blue rubber sole. I kept the shoe aside while seated on the floor folding my legs. My socks were popping from the clutches of my ankles – and I was listening the teacher explaining the white writings on black-board – some numbers, and I felt a touch on my feet.

The girl. An oversized green frock covered her whole body, while her face was turned towards my socks – as if she was amazed.

Me: “What are you doing?”

She: “Socks. Why are you wearing them?”

Me: “I wore shoe”.

She:    “But you aren’t wearing them now”.

I didn’t whisper further. I didn’t want to be convinced with her argument, but she was logically right – girls were always smarter. I looked away. She pulled my sock again.

She: “If you open them, I can show you something. Interesting.”

Now that proposition was luring. ‘Interesting’ - the word is the most curious word ever, and as a child it is nearly impossible to avoid that charm. I fell.

I opened the socks and push them inside my Keds. She whispered.

“Follow me. Do what I do”.

She bent down easily, while firmly being seated on jute mattress. She mouthed one of her toes, and then began to suck it. It was neither vigorous nor languid, rather she was savoring it – taking her time.

I kept watching her. As a child, I saw may things, strange things– but this was something new – INTERESTING.

It must be a long time, because I remember the class bell and breaking of my trance and running of children everywhere. She stood up and looked at me once, and then hopped outside.

At next class, the same thing resumed by the same teacher in the same style. The girl this time pinched me hard.

She: “You are a liar”.

Me: “I am NOT. Why?”

She: “Why didn’t you suck your toe? You pinky-swore.”

I whispered her that I never swore to anything, but she was angry, pinching me harder everytime. She whimpered. “You aren’t my friend”.

Now that was unacceptable – at those times, friendship was way too much important than sucking a toe. I lowered my head and decided to mouth the left toe, as it was cleaner and better than the right one, which was disfigured few months ago when my kick missed a flying ball and instead hit a brick.

I felt nothing at first – it was just like sucking a dry branch of a tree or licking a glass. But slowly, it felt like paper. The wetness was all over my tongue. I glanced over my shoulder to see the girl – she looked at me. A small twitch on her lips and an offer of acceptance of friendship. By that time, my toe tasted green leaves.

We became good friends. Sometimes I imitated her hopping and she copied my stammering. And then we sucked our toes in classes. She had other followers too. But we mastered the art – we were special.

The friendship lasted for less than two months. My new school started classes a little early, and I had to leave. We sucked our toes on that sunny afternoon under a tree behind our school, while I told her.

“I am not coming from tomorrow”.

She: “Why? Are you ill?”

Me: “No.”

She: “Are you going somewhere?”

Me: “Yes. A new school. Too far from here.”

She didn’t reply, as if she didn’t care. She stared at the still black water in the pond in front of us and threw a stick. It stirred the water a little.

When the last class ended with a very long loud bell, we came out from room and walked towards our home. She’d take left after a sharp turn and I had to keep walking straight. She didn’t hop today – her ponytails were flattened over her hair. We walked slow.

When it was the time for her to take left, she simply walked away without saying a single word to me. Not even a goodbye! I paused, sighed and then proceeded straight.

“Stop. Stop. Stop.”

A familiar voice at my back. Somebody was calling my name and hopping towards me…..my friend.

She came and held my hand. “Don’t go to new school. Okay?”

I remained silent.

She: “If you stay, then tomorrow I can show you something. Interesting.”

Silence.

She: “I promise you to show that tomorrow. Pinky swear.” She touched her tiny throat.

My heart was aching. I was dying to know that ‘interesting’ thing. But I knew I couldn’t stay.

She tried for a while and then probably couldn’t stand my dead silence. She ran back, like a rabbit – hopping.

And I never saw her again.

(Representative Image: asiastockphoto.com)