Authors: Latika Sharma
“It was an Apple. And Sir Isaac Newton was definitely not a dud; at least not in science, dressing maybe. So, I will explain it again, onelast time . . .” I had bent over his shabbily maintained copy and started explaining for the tenth time the three equations.
The time came, the bell rang and we were handed out our question papers for reading. These days a fifteen minute reading time is allotted for only reading and according to CBSE, devising answering strategies. Mostly it is used in signalling . . . expert eyes can transmit and receive questions which your friends in need ask. So the plan for copying is made long before the paper actually commences.
Kabir and I sat in a different classroom. So, I really did not know how he felt on reading the question paper. For me it was easy. I could see myself scoring a perfect score. For him it was a different scenario. I’m sure he must have asked all those he could and been able to do a fine paper because he was definitely happy when he stepped out. I had walked up to him and asked, “So, how did it go?”
“Great, I will pass!” was all he said.
“What do you mean pass? We worked so hard and all you want is to pass?” I was a little upset but soon realized passing meant a lot for some students.
“Chill man! We have English tomorrow. So meet me there and Iet’s get that silly poem in my head. I am heading for the lockers and will meet you in fifteen minutes. Pronto.” He swung his sporty school bag on his shoulder and dashed off. I just picked up my stuff and discussing the paper with Anjali, headed out.
“Pronto? Wow! Madam Curie is having a profound impact on the Casanova. Vocabulary is improving,” Anjali had nudged me lightly.
“Well . . . I have that effect on people,” I acted pretentious and we both giggled. Long back we had made a pact of speaking rich literature style English with each other to improve ourselves. Now Kabir had inadvertently joined in. I recall that incidence clearly. We were sitting on our spot as usual and Kabby was copying some notes when I asked him to pass my pencil box and in his haste he dropped it.
“Sorry . . . it slipped.” He had said bending down to pick the spilled contents. ‘I was looking elsewhere. Sorry”. It was his habit to apologize repeatedly, especially when he was guilty, till the other person didn’t say something.
“’Fumble’ is a more appropriate word, don’t you think?” I had asked which made him look questioningly.
“What? What do you mean?” He had asked innocently.
“I mean, it is better to say fumbled out of your hand rather than slipped out of your hand . . . just a better word to describe, don’t you think?” I had simply asked. And then Ofcource Kabir had rolled his eyes and said I really was weird some times and we had giggled but I know he had joined me in my habit.
He joined us from his detour from the boy’s lockers. Anjali grunted a bit as he sat down next to me and pulled out my lunch box. I was busy reading for the next exam. Our school buses were due to return back in an hour.
“Aren’t you supposed to ask her before you unmannerly eat her Tiffin?” Anjali finally blurted out her thoughts. By this time Kabir had eaten about half of my lunch.
“She doesn’t mind, why the hell do you? If you want some just ask for it.” He had extended my lunch box towards an annoyed Anjali.
“No thanks. I have my food and my manners as well. And if you have some, leave a bit for her as she would be hungry too!” with that statement Anjali turned her back at us. Kabir did not like Anjali much, and especially the I-hate-you attitude she always had towards him. So he looked at me and I simply nodded for him the standard ‘forget it’ look.
“Relax Anjali; its o.k. Kabir has my acquiescence.” I had gently touched her shoulder. I knew the new word would baffle Kabir and this would make Anjali smile. And this was what happened. It took him time to realize what I had done, but by then we were discussing other things.
“What were you doing in the lockers? There is no basketball these days.” I had asked after some time.
“Nothing important, just us guys talking that’s all.” Kabir had not looked up from my Maths register and I knew he was lying.
“Liar.” I had said and he gave me an angry but helpless look. But before I could say anything Ayesha had come and sat down along with Kabir flashing her oh—so-cute smile and leaning more than required in Kabir’s notebooks. Anjali and I were amazed by her enticing habits but believe me! they were amusing at times. And Kabir obviously enjoyed all the attention.
This pattern continued all through the exams. I would help him all the time with each exam, much to Anjali and even Ayesha’s annoyance. Kabir was making some improvement or that’s what
I thought. It was later when he was caught cheating in the Social Science paper that I realized what the ‘guy thing’ was which they did in the boys lockers. Apparently chits with written text were confiscated from his socks. I was very angry that day and did not sit with him. He followed me the whole time and apologized profusely but I did not heed to it.
“I spent so much time and energy with you, I listened to everyone’s comments of wasting my time on you, I lent you my notebooks when I myself could have read them, and what did you do? You blew it up Kabir right in my face! I have never been so hurt in my life . . . I trusted you. And now it’s over . . . go away and do what you will do. Anjali was right boys like you will never change.” I had spoken all this nonstop with Kabir just staring at me. I turned and was about to leave when he spoke.
“I did it because of you . . .”
“What do you mean by that? You cheated because of me?” I could not believe he was blaming me for his behaviour.
“How would you have felt if I had failed after all your efforts, as you have just mentioned? You would have hated me. And that I did not want.”
“No way . . . I would never have said anything Kabir . . . you know that. It is better to fail with dignity than . . .” but I was cut short by an even angrier response.
“Liar . . . and cut this nonsense about dignity . . . a failure is never dignified. Take it from someone who has seen that side quite often.” And he picked up his sling bag and left me with my thoughts.
That day I thought really hard about what Kabir had said. Was it true? Did I subconsciously push him to cheat? Maybe he was right. But then he was caught doing such things often, this could only be an excuse. I wanted to believe he was using my tutoring him as a scapegoat, but somehow I kept feeling otherwise. For the first time a new side of Kabir’s life was becoming clear to me. It was often to reach up to the standards set by us that he did things wrong, to avoid reprimands. Maybe, just maybe, somewhere it was my fault too.
I
t has been over 16 years now. Riya let out a lover’s sigh. Yes, she had been madly in love with Kabir and he loved her with equal fervour. Maybe more! She smiled inwardly as she remembered how angry he was at her dad for slapping her one day. “I will make him pay,” was what he had dolefully muttered all day long as I had laughed Riya thought.
Her son was drinking his chocolate milk; he was quite a young sportsman. He was ahead of all his classmates, thanks to his mom’s genes and constant guidance. He was also a good athlete. He was Riya’s pride and joy. Her husband loved both of them a lot. She was a happy and lucky woman. Successful in her career as a lecturer and professor in Biology in the Delhi University, she had met him at a party in a hotel. Their parents finally thought about it and Riya’s father had also lastly consented, although her husband had to wheedle the old man a bit. Riya chuckled as she thought about how her dad used to stare at him whenever he came to pick her up for an outing, a few days prior to the wedding.
She loved her husband and was grateful for the life she was living, but that school boy Kabir was a part of her soul. And you
Can’t replace something like that by a wedding ring. Riya’s hand automatically went to her neck where the gold chain she always wore hung. In it was still dangling his remembrance and Riya’s promise to him. She touched it and a smile brightened her face. Yes, she was madly in love with him
. . .
even today!
Kabir was the first one to realize this. I had taken my time. God! How I made him wait. Patience was not his strong virtue but he had waited for my answer. It is truly said, “Love makes one do the strangest things.” The numerous smiles, the many handshakes, the most insignificant acts
. . .
all can reveal ones true feelings if only we listen carefully to that tiny voice which keeps pointing the obvious to us. I was shy, I was afraid to listen to my heart back then. How could I? I had been brought up in an environment of strict discipline where love-stories was something we saw on the silver screen. It was not something I would imagine myself being in
. . .
But I was. I loved Kabir from the day we met. It was as simple as that. I just toyed with the realization of it and tormented his poor already hyperactive soul.
As Riya thought about that day she was once again flooded by memories leading to that grand acknowledgement.
I was sitting by the window seat of our school bus, reading a bestseller. The weather was humid and the breeze from the half stuck window did nothing to relieve me, yet I was so engrossed in how the heroine discovered that her boyfriend-to-be was actually a vampire that I did not notice the thud next to me. It was Meenakshi Sahi, our Head girl. Now Meenakshi was not only tall and slim, she was a great orator, very convincing in debates and the trump card of our inter-school competitions. In short, when she spoke, we listened.
As I looked up from my thick book, I saw a bemused expression across her face. Not to miss, Danish was beside her. He was a constant companion, where ever Meenakshi was seen, Danish was around, looking over her. He was a very simple looking senior from the commerce stream. He was the son of a local MLA and therefore, without knowing, a known figure in school, though he attributed this fame to being Meenakshi’s beau . . . a fast relationship for two years now.
“Reading away Ms. Sehgal? Oblivious to the world, lost in . . . let me . . . see . . . Ahh . . . Vampires! I see the Edward Cullen fever has gripped you as well,” Meenakshi began laying the foundation for her talk. She casually looked at the name of the book I was holding, Danish just looked bored.
I smiled, lost for the appropriate response and racing my brains in all directions to guess the reason for her interest in me.
“Riya, you have been my favourite since I first heard you in poem competition, three years ago. You know that. I have watched over you and guided you every time, I even recommended your name for prefectural board, and so believe me I have your best interest at heart. Danish agrees too that these days, more than required gossip about you and Kabir Sharma is doing the rounds. It’s not a good thing Riya, we see a potential future head girl and all in you . . . This thing with Kabir . . . I mean sure he is a sports star and great boy, but he is a defaulter. Students like you, high potential and brilliant, don’t befriend students like him, at least not so seriously. I hope you’re following me.” Meenakshi nodded her head gently and I nodded mine like a car—Hawaiian doll.
“But . . . there is nothing going on between us Meenakshi!! Why, someone is intentionally spoiling my name! I just helped him instudies.” I heard the panic in my own voice. If my parents ever found out about this, my education would be banned!
“I know. Ayesha of your class is topping the list as of now. I plan to have a word with her too, but still I need to ask you to portray at least that you aren’t interested in Kabir and keep to yourself. OK?” Meenakshi placed a calm and steady hand on my shoulders.
“But I ‘AM’ not interested in him!!” I protested.
“Sure Riya, but to kill a drama, we need to show another better drama. I want you to actually tell people you two are not a thing’ and not ignore them, as you usually do. Spread your own word that nothing is serious between you two. Rest I will handle.” Meenakshi spoke with great aplomb. Danish Devgan, as was his habit, just nodded his head in acquiescence.
As I got down from the bus and began to walk home I though over what Meenakshi had said. She was right; I and Kabir were poles apart. I had a great future and lots of expectations attached with me. I could not take that huge a risk. Besides, Kabir was not showing any drastic improvements. All he needed was my notes. Those I will provide, only if he asked me now. So it was decided by the time I sat down for lunch that I would consciously maintain a distance from him and subdue any overtures of friendship.
The next day, even though the weather by noon was unbearable, I did not take my usual seat by the window, ahead of Dev and Kabir. I sat in the far corner where the breeze would refuse to reach and the dilapidated fan would curse the occupants below him. It was our arts class and I was sweating profusely. Kabir kept insisting that I change my seat but I refused each time. He did get irritated initially but I saw worry cross his eyes once in a while.
“Are you angry with me Riya? What wrong did I do now? I have said sorry for cheating on the Social Studies paper, I meant it Riya, promise I will never repeat it, I mean, I will fail but not cheat ok??” He asked me after a gruelling arts class.
“It’s all right Kabir. I just wanted to sit there. And I know you said sorry.” I did not face him.
“But nobody can sit in that corner without sweating their entire water out! You never sit there, alone, without Anjali. I know you like sitting near the windows, so what happened? I am sorry, I said something I just know it . . . tell me c’mon!!” He looked so innocently at me that I felt guilty of inflicting this doubt in his mind. I smiled my sweetest smile and replied, “Nothing!! You did not say anything . . . I can have a change of mind one day Kabir, I am permitted that. I just wanted to work in seclusion. I mean alone. Now go and sit, the maths teacher is around the corner. Bye.” I sat down looking surreptitiously at everyone, wondering what they were thinking about us now.