I was an aspiring young man and she was a college girl in those days. I liked and fell in love with her immediately. From her side it was the same. One striking similarity between us was that we were both orphans, our parents having passed away long before. We understood the value of things and what scarcity means.

With the progression of time, things got a little better in life. I began to work and she began doing odd jobs. We met at least once in a day and dreamt about our future together. It was not easy and it was going to take a very long time before we could think of living under the same roof.
     
Though I had graduated in science, my prime interesting was making sketches and paintings and I can claim that I am very good at it. She knew that it was going to bring in huge amount of money if I were able to establish myself as a known artist in the artistic circle. It was not so easy because new artists were very easily shunned away by the organizers of art exhibitions and corporate houses who went after the past record of an artist.

I joined a magazine and started making sketches for their stories and cartoons. It was not a permanent job but the income was enough for the survival. I had been living in the house of distant relatives where I had to work in their shop for about eight hours to pay for the shelter and food. Likewise, she had been living with a distant aunt of hers and she cooked for the family, cleaned house, and washed clothes. I knew that it was very difficult for her.

Finally, when I had a little amount saved by, after two years of my services as a sketch maker with the magazine, I decided that it was the time we started living together. To some extent, our dreams were at least beginning to take tangible shape. She bought a few things for the two room apartment which we had rented. In the name of furniture we could afford an old sofa, two chairs, and a writing desk. Similarly, in the kitchen a few utensils were brought. The life began to look pleasant because she was with me.

“I wish we were rich?” said she, after about one month of our living together in that new home which we were so strenuously trying to beautify.

“I am rich because my fairy is with me!” I took her in my arms and kissed her gently on her lips.

“No, I mean, we could buy things for the house and be comfortable. Don’t you want that?” she looked in my eyes.

“All I need is you, my sweet fairy, and all other things are irrelevant. We have a roof on our heads, and there is enough food in the kitchen…”

Before I could continue, she said, “I was thinking if I could find a job, I would be able to add to the income of the house?”

“Why not, my song bird? You can start teaching or you can start giving tuitions to the neighbouring children. I know you are very good at Math and I am sure you will get hundreds of students in this area…”

It worked and groups after groups of little school boys and girls began to come to our house to take tuitions. After ten days of this new venture, she bought ten chairs and a blackboard. One out of our two rooms was changed into a classroom. She was happy, guiding, instructing, scolding, and solving mathematical problems. The students liked her and it made me feel proud because she was my fairy.

Of late, with the rapid growth of electronic media, sales of paper magazines began to decrease. I began to get fewer assignments. I was worried because I found it hard to arrange grocery for the entire month on the income that I received.

“This month I have earned three thousand rupees from tuitions,” said she, smiling while counting the currency notes.

“That’s wonderful, my dear!” I was very happy but somewhere in my mind I was carrying a feeling of guilt because I had never been able to earn more than two thousand rupees in a month while working with the magazine.

“Please take this money and buy the items one by one which we need for the house. Next month we can buy some more…”

“No, please keep this money with you. I will buy the things this month,” I refused to take the money.

“Why? Is there any difference between your money and my moneys?” she looked at me with expectation.

“No, my lovely fairy, but I don’t need it now. I have enough and I can buy the things which we need,” I said in a tone which was not without male chauvinism.

That evening we visited the market and bought a few things. She was very happy because it was the first time we were shopping together. She was dressed in a new red sari that I had bought for her a few months before but she had never worn it before. She looked like a new bride, with her shy smile, twinkling eyes, and demureness of manners, while she was walking along the crowded lanes of the market with me.

She stopped in front of a big boutique. It was her birthday after two days and I was thinking of presenting her something beautiful. We entered the shop. The dazzle of the ambiance almost blinded my eyes but she was happily fluttering like a bird from one displayed item to another. She stopped in front of a sales counter where they had beautiful hand purses on display. It was a luxurious shop and only very affluent customers visited them. I was very nervous. She picked a beautiful embroidered shoulder bag, laid with artificial pearls and stones. She showed it to me, having put the strap of the bag around her left shoulder. It matched with her sari and her graceful appearance. She looked exquisite and very beautiful. I observed her very minutely and smiled.

Suddenly, she put the shoulder bag back on the counter and said, “It is too expensive for us to buy!”

I looked at the tag and almost jumped with shock. It cost five thousand rupees.

“Sir, the leather is Italian, calf leather, and embroidery is from Iran…” the salesman began to elaborate.

“Thank you but we don’t need it. We will come some other time,” I tried to defend her.

“It is our pleasure, sir. Please do visit us next time,” the salesman said with a highly professional smile on his face.

On the eve of her birthday, I was restless. I had not been able to buy anything for her. I thought of buying a few things but that shoulder bag came into mind over and again. She was waiting for me in the other room, but I was sitting all alone in the classroom.

“I have to work tonight. You go to bed,” said I.

“Come soon, dear!”

“I will!”

I worked continuously for about eight hours. With the first light of the following morning, the painting was complete. I was satisfied with my work.

I was exhausted and I needed some sleep. I entered the room and found her soundly asleep there. She was my fairy, my sweet fairy. I bent down and kissed the dimple on her right cheek. She stirred and turned on her side. I lay beside her and tried to close my eyes.

She turned into my direction and put her left arm on my chest and moved close to me. She put her left leg on my legs. I felt the warmth of her body and I embraced her. Before I could make any further moves, she opened her eyes and smiled at me.

“Happy birthday, my sweet fairy,” I tried to hide my embarrassment.

“Thank you. Where is my present?” she kissed me gently on my left cheek.

I got up immediately and again entered the classroom. While coming out I was carrying a two by three feet box wrapped in golden paper with a red ribbon tied across its length and breadth.

She jumped with joy when she saw that I had actually brought a present for her. She snatched that box from my hands and opened the box.

When she lifted her eyes from the contents of the box, she had tears in her eyes. She pulled the painting out and kissed it. In that painting she was there with the shoulder bag, which she so desperately wanted to buy, hanging from her left shoulder. I had tried my best to give life to her painting and I believe I did succeed.

She gently placed the painting on the bed and ran into my arms and whispered, “You worked the whole night to give me this precious gift, my love?”

“Because I was unable to buy that bag…” I said like a failed warrior.

“No, I don’t need that bag. This is the most wonderful gift. Your love is oozing out of it, my dear,” she began to weep.

“Sweet fairy, please don’t cry. I promise next time I will buy a better bag than that.”

“I don’t want any bag. I don’t want anything. I have already got the most precious gift in this world. You are the most precious gift, my love,” she clung to me like a vine.

“My sweet fairy, my dancing and singing bird, my dimpled siren, if I could I would scatter all the gems around you and worship you like a goddess of love.”