Authors: Latika Sharma
Kabir must have understood the discontented look on my face and said, “I was kind of in a hurry”.
“Where is the circuit diagram?” I asked questioningly looking directly into his eyes.
Kabir scratched his head in that characteristic boy like manner and said sheepishly, “There was a circuit diagram as well?”
“KABIR! What do you mean by that? Look, I have clearly drawn one here. You will get me expelled for trying to help you.” I nearly shouted at him. Imagine a physics file without circuit diagrams . . . it is like a paragraph in English without punctuation marks!
“Sorry man, take it easy . . . I’ll make it now madam . . . just don’t get mad.” He extended his hand to take his file, but I drew it back.
“Forget it, I’ll make it. Diagrams require a bit of a talent as well, besides the desire and need and I doubt you carry pencils and scale with you anyway.”
Without waiting for any answer I walked off to my seat. Ofcource Kabir was happy getting his work done by someone who chronically stood first in class. Needless to say, that day Kabir’s file was submitted, to his happiness and my relief. Only Mr. Bonerjee was astonished, but suspected nothing. It took him time to digest the fact that Kabir had completed his work, but then who would mind, definitely not a teacher.
After the school ended that day, I was not expecting Kabir to walk up to me near the court steps, but he came, rolling the ball on his index figure and said, “Hi! Thanks again Riya. No one has helped me like this before. Thanks again I own you man!”
“Well . . . it’s no big deal. What are friends for hmm, and don’t call me man . . . So did you read my notes?” I asked casually.
“No, not yet. I went out yesterday night, so didn’t get time but will start today positively. And what should I call you then? Doll?” Kabir looked at his basketball and not at me when he said this. I knew he was lying and trying to cover it up with flirtation.
“Liar.” That was all I said. He lost his balance and his ball fell off.
“No honestly Riya ... I . . .”
“Stop! Stop it Kabir! I am not a teacher that you must lie to me. We are friends; at least have the decency of being honest.” I picked up my Geography book and turned my back at him.
“And don’t call me Doll!” I said calmly yet with firmness.
I don’t know how long he stared at my back but I heard his breathing. He was again lost for words, as I was right and he realized it.
Kabir had walked off as his team mates began calling him for practice but my words rang in his head all the time. Because he was a fantastic player his game didn’t suffer, but that day he didn’t enjoy it. He missed a few times but no one noticed it. I suppose I had set the winds of change in motion. Something changed about him that day. I soon realized it, no later than the very next day.
“I
was at home, watching qualifying F-1 race, and was up till 1:30.There I said it. The truth.” It was the secondperiod of the day and our maths teacher was a little late as usual. She preferred to eat her snacks and finish tea before leaving the staff room. Her oversized belly would clearly testify for this. So the entire class usually enjoyed at least fifteen minutes of unmonitored chatting time. It was during this that Kabir walked up to me and had confessed rather mutely. Honestly, I was surprised, but I didn’t show it. Kabir was perhaps expecting a sweet mellow response from me, as he often got from other girls for being so cute and vulnerable.
Instead I didn’t even look up and said, “So? What do you want a medal? Be happy, you have guts to own up.” Before he could fully comprehend what I meant, Mrs Monika Chopra entered the class, still chewing on the leftovers of her snack.
I think I saw Kabir occasionally glance at me that day. I chose to ignore him. That day in the library period, he purposely misbehaved so that all would look at him. Ofcource the librarians shouted at him, but this hardly affected him now. I too looked up at him once as his banging the glass doors of book shelves wasrather risky. His arguments with the librarian were uncalled for, but he always argued and then got himself thrown out. That was what happened today also. Finally the librarian, a meek south Indian fellow, Mr. Iyer asked Kabir to ‘Get out’ of his library. With a disgruntled look and nodding his head fiercely, Kabir walked out. But not before he gave me a meaningful long stare.
Anjali was not only my fast friend; she was also the prefect of Gandhi house and a very bright student. She also had a razor sharp tongue and oodles of wits in her. We are still in contact with each other. That day, she was sitting at the same library table and asked me if anything was the matter. She had seen me speak to Kabir and then Kabir stare at me before his exit. I had said it was nothing and she asked me to stay away from such dull boys. I just nodded my head and promised to do as she had suggested.
Rest of the day went well. We had our Physical education period where I saw Kabir playing basketball. I have to admit, it was a treat to see that boy play. He was simply marvellous. On a few occasions I found myself even silently cheering for him. Most of the girls of my class were also feasting eyes on his well athletic, tall body. He looked like some Hollywood movie star from where we stood. I suppose in tenth, all were looking for love and even a smile from a boy sent shivers down a girl’s spine. When some of them cheered for him, Kabir turned to look our way. I was standing at the far end and he saw me see him. I don’t know what came over him, he threw his ball in our direction and then innocently came trotting to fetch it.
Ayesha Kulshreshta was the most beautiful girl in school. She was also our class fellow and had a huge crush on Kabir. Most boys drooled over her and were ready to confess their love for her if only she would as much as smile at them. But, she had her eyes for Kabir. I had often heard her say that she would kill for that boy, during lunch break. She loved everything about him and didn’t mind his weak academic performance as she was sure he was a master of many other things, especially charisma! He knew how to impress girls, so when he came to pick his ball, he looked at Ayesha and smiled, wished her ‘hi’ and then frowned at me and walked off. Ayesha let out a small whistle and acted as if she would collapse. All girls laughed but I got up and left. He was taunting me and I felt hurt. Anjali saw this and again asked me what the matter was. This time I told her everything.
“What! You risked all this for that stupid Kabir? Riya what were you thinking?” Anjali was shocked at what she had heard.
“I don’t know I was just impulsive. And now he is misbehaving with me. God! Boys like him deserve no help.” I was scolding myself for all of it.
“Look, stay away from him and his gang. We are different from them. They have been like this since ever. They fail and are rude, aggressive sort of boys. Most of them are caught cheating and fighting. Kabir was caught last year, remember, for planting a cracker in girl’s toilet. And you went to help him?” On hearing all of this I too was surprised at why I bothered, at all with this dull head boy and decided not to ever be troubled by him again. Brushing it off, I walked away with Anjali to play badminton.
We did not speak again that whole day. Kabir kept misbehaving with other teachers, but he was an angel in the English period, but then, most boys were. The reason was our new and young English teacher, Miss Payal Suri. Payal ma’am had recently left her college and joined our school. So she was vibrant, young, and friendly and jovial. All the students liked her, especially the boys. And today Kabir was being extra polite. He had changed his seat and was sitting in the next row, immediately to my side.
There is always a motive behind every seat change in the class. Chatting with fellow buddies is one, cheating in a class test can be another. But the most unlikely reason is what had Kabir sitting next to me. He had a crush on our English teacher, and as I was her favourite student she occasionally came and stood next to my seat. And this gave Kabby, the lover, a great opportunity to flirt, even with a teacher!
Now, I am not all that smart but believe me, every woman realizes soon that a man is flirting with her. So did Miss Payal; but she choose to accept it subtly. Who minds appreciation from a 16 year old who stares at you with stars in his eyes! That day as we were reading out passages, Kabby was over energized. I realized it later when my turn for reading came. Every time I spoke, there was an odd sound produced by him and his fast friend Dev. It was horrible! The sound of air escaping out of an expanded balloon whose mouth has been stretched far too thin. I stopped many times during reading and glared in Kabir’s direction. Everybody in class knew his ways, most giggled, some laughed and only a few remained passive. I was disgusted and awaited the teacher’s fury. Miss Payal however was a case in herself. To my utter surprise she joined the club and giggled rather than punish Kabir. I lost a bit of respect for her that day, she ought to have stopped him rather than encourage him by joining his laughter. Kabir however had the most pleasant and victorious smile on his face when I finally sat down. God! How I had hated him that day.
Today as I think of that day, I still recall the hurt I had felt and the anger I felt for Kabir. I would have given anything to see him scolded. And it was then that a cold war had begun between us. But it ended soon. I forgave him. But more of that later, Raibir, my little one is asking for his milkshake and Mom must hurry.
A
nger—it is defined as ‘Extreme displeasure’ by Oxford dictionary.
What I felt was a bit more complicated. I was angry, but not only at him. I was angrier at myself for getting into such a position. I was feeling like a fool who was being laughed at by everyone in the class and definitely Kabir’s basketball team. He would have narrated this entire episode beautifully, I was sure. So that day when I was revising my days work, awaiting the school bus, his ball bounced many times by my side. He came to pick it too, but I dint even look in his direction. I was so angry, I was sure he would have seen it in my eyes and I din’t want him to relish that feeling as well.
But I forgot. It was Kabir. He was a determined bugging person when he wished to be. So, he intentionally missed his catches, hoping one would hit the right target. And it did. After about ten minutes of his trying, his ball finally landed a basket. It hit me hard on my back. He came panting as usual, and said rather curtly, “Sorry!”
I din’t turn. My back was to him. He repeated, “Sorry madam!” I din’t miss the impatience in his voice.
“Don’t be.” I said, still with my back at him. “It is my fault really. I missed it. No one would do it intentionally . . . isn’t it?” I did not hear him move. He was foxed. He was expecting a sting of abuses from me and what I said was totally opposite. He stared at my back for some time. I know this because soon I heard his mates call out to him. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” He turned abruptly and left, but I din’t miss the shock in his voice. It hit me then, if I did the unexpected this guy would be stumped! I hadn’t forgiven him then, but had decided my course of action. There sure was a war between us and I had formally begun it that hour.
Next few weeks till the middle of August were too rushed. Kabir had managed to pass the compartment papers with my notes. This ate him up deeply as Anjali had shouted at the top of her voice on result declaration, “Better to have intelligent enemies than foolish friends hmm . . . Kabir.” The entire class knew he had my notes and hence he fared well. And Anjali never left a chance defending me. She was a sharp girl back then also. She still is. Being editor in chief of a leading ladies magazine utilizes all those talents of her, today.
The war was still on. He never missed a chance of making fun of me and I reciprocated, though there was a difference in our ways. Kabir was an attention seeker, so he made a show of everything. Like that day, in Hindi period, when our teacher was explaining a poem and a word sounding similar to my name came up he laughed and made fun of it. Obviously the whole class relished the joke. And the next day in Biology class when our teacher Mrs. Gayatri Agnihotri (my favourite teacher) was explaining Class: Aves, she said there were some flightless birds such as Ostriches and Kiwis and . . . Rheas. Now Kabir won’t have missed calling me a flightless bird. So that is what I heard his band of boys mutter each time I crossed them in the corridor and in class-”Flightless bird”.
Ofcource I din’t spare him either. But my ways were sharper and meant for him only. Like that day when I was distributing our maths registers, I din’t hand him his, but left it on the teacher’s table. It took him a while but he realized it that I had stopped collecting or distributing his material. Each time we passed by each other I looked the other way. Whenever I was asked to prepare a defaulters list, I would purposely put his name on the top. He intentionally sat next to my row or behind me and I would not even look at him. The best was on occasion when he was scolded, he would steal a glance at me and I would smile, wickedly. God! That hurt him badly. Then one day in our environment education class the teacher was discussing mental illness in young children. He was a lame teacher without any class control. Mr. Bhatti. He was explaining that lack of nutrition leads to mental illness, along with a poor society. I raised my hand and said, “Sir, there can be other reasons for mental illness. An inferior self-image can lead even the smartest, well fed and a societal man to feel inferior. I mean, someone can be a looser and only show off publically to win friends. But basically as no one respects him, and he is a failure in his studies, he fools around for attention and this would make him a mentally sick person . . . Right sir?” I know Mr. Bhatti understood not a tail of what I said. He was not expected to, someone else was the target and his looks said that I too had scored a basket.
Kabir was red in his ears, and Dev was staring at me. I had just declared his best friend a mental retard, and he was furious.
So that day when I was sitting finishing maths assignment Dev came up to me and shouted, “What the hell do you think yourself to be?” his hands were on his hips and he was quite a tall boy. This was intended to frighten me, but I coolly replied, “Better than that stupid Kabir.” I did not look up from my book. This irritated him more than my answer. “Look Riya, if you ever say that again . . .”