I Kissed A Girl In My Class (14 page)

The buses moved
slowly through Chandigarh’s mist but the students cared not for the
pace. They sang loudly and munched on more snacks. Outside the
city, the mist turned to light morning fog as the road wound
through the fields. Ropar had never been so far away, and it was
only when a golden glow came into the air that the drivers dared to
go faster. They halted at the boat club in Ropar. The hills lay
ahead and a wide river, the Satluj, sliced the ground in two, but
the students saw none of this as the fog above the river was verily
a thick white curtain. Only an hour later, when they had eaten and
played, did they see the mud hills across the river shine yellow
and the ripples on the river’s surface reveal themselves through
rents in the white blanket.

The buses moved on
again on the longer leg of the journey, and this time the sunlight
streamed in through the windows, warming the bus and its occupants.
Some opened the windows and enjoyed the cold eye-watering wind,
some averted their faces from the direct rays. Manu was standing in
the aisle and neither sun nor wind touched him. But Priya was
watching him and the seat beside her on the window side was
empty.

“Don’t you get
tired standing, Mr Monitor?” she said looking straight into his
eyes. Manu was surprised he didn’t feel any loyalty for Anisha the
way he had for Neha. He came close to Priya, and leaning on her
seat-back, said, “Not much”. He was looking at Priya but his
precocious mind was watching his own responses. He noted with
satisfaction that his voice didn’t shake, his heart didn’t hammer
and his breathing was calm. He felt cool and played along.

“Do you want me to
sit there,” he asked pointing at the vacant seat.

Priya tucked her
knees sideways to indicate assent, and he sidled in, taking care
not to touch her at all. That was part of his chivalrous code. But
now that he was sitting beside her, and the girls around them were
looking at them, he felt his heart speed up just a bit. Priya was
tongue-tied and answered him in monosyllables. This game may have
been exciting for her but it wasn’t interesting for him, and he
wondered whether word about his exploit would spread to the other
bus when they stopped in Bhakra. “It has to,” he decided, “the
girls will gossip. Let’s see what happens next”.

Manu was no
singer, and Priya, who had been humming along sweetly, had lost her
voice after he sat down beside her. He looked out of the window
striking a thoughtful pose as the buses overtook each other by
turns. Sometimes he saw Neha and her friends, and each time they
waved to him cheerily. He smiled back dully. He had slipped into
his grave, disdainful mood, which was his way of showing himself
superior to others.

***

The hills
around Bhakra weren’t very green or high, but the ascent was steep
and the buses groaned as they went round and round on the
serpentine road. Some of the merriment ceased as a few students
became queasy and threw up—after giving sufficient notice so that
they could be moved to the window seats or the buses stopped while
they lightened their burden of biscuits and chips. Manu wasn’t
affected by any of these. He had a strong stomach.

The buses emptied
at the base of the dam, and the students struggled to put
everything in perspective. The dam was enormous, but to grasp just
how big it was they were given facts and figures. “Those little
crows at the railing on the top, yeah those tiny dots, they are not
crows but guards.”

“What!”

“And those little
black square plates you see just below them are the floodgates;
each one is wide enough to fit 36 buses in it.” The gasps of
amazement grew even louder, and Manu was all ears because he liked
to think of himself as the budding scientist of the class. There
was a stream in the valley. No, not really, it was the mighty
Satluj but it seemed harmless from far above. The hills echoed
every sound and the wind made a loud noise, too, but there was a
roar that seemed to fill every space and every moment, and it was
the sound of the Satluj.

They were shown
inside the dam, the large generating room and its massive, noisy
turbines. There was electricity being made right below the
students’ feet, and it was probably flowing to their homes many
miles away at that moment. Anisha and the other girls were far from
Manu’s mind as he roamed this wonderland. He memorised the Watts
and cusecs carefully, he stamped the word penstock on his mind
firmly. This was just the kind of picnic he liked, but after a
while their guide led them to the top of the dam where there was a
guest house and their buses were parked. The boys walked upon the
wide, tar road that crested the dam and cautiously peeped at the
waters far below, the sweep of Gobind Sagar, the dam’s reservoir
whose name they had learned over and over again from class to
class.

And then, this
awesome dream dissolved into a mundane picnic with the girls
dancing to the latest Hindi song, which happened to be “Mere Hathon
Mein Nau Nau Chudian Hain”. Manu couldn’t stand that song because
he found it too rustic and seeing Anisha dance to it (cheered on by
the others) he winced. Priya wasn’t dancing, but she wasn’t his
type. She wasn’t pretty enough. No, that wasn’t true, she was nice
looking in her own way, but the others didn’t call her the most
beautiful girl in class 7, and so he, Manu, alpha male of the
class, couldn’t be linked with her. Only the best would do for
him.

So he walked away
from the merry group and sat inside the bus, and brooded. He quite
liked it alone, because the bus was comfortable with deep padded
seats and the hillside near the window was covered with grass and
creepers, and a cool breeze swept through the bus. He heard the
song played again and again, and then the excited sounds of
students at lunch. He wasn’t hungry, he told Samar who came looking
for him, but the truth was that he didn’t like to eat while
standing and he didn’t like chhole kulche, which is what they were
serving.

Then, footsteps.
The students jumped in almost in a stampede, and rushed for seats.
Manu was surprised that Anisha and her band chose his bus this
time, but they were the last to enter and a few of them couldn’t
find seats. So they went and stood near the emergency exit at the
back of the bus and called out to him. He didn’t need any more
bidding. He jumped out of the seat and went and stood with them.
Anisha, Neha, Deepti and Manu, all four close together. But this
time his head wasn’t cool. His heart drum-rolled, his pulse raced
and words failed him. He felt sheepish and uncomfortable but the
girls were completely at ease. Anisha complained he never paid any
attention to her and only cared for his ‘sisters’. And for the rest
of the journey home Manu read many meanings into those few words.
Was she giving him a sign? Was she teasing him to act, to say the
word? Could it be that she understood? But with her he had to be
very careful, for she was a teacher’s daughter. The entire
staffroom would rise against him if a scandal occurred, and he
would be the one to be thrown out of school.

Manu stood in that
corner quietly listening to them but paying attention to only
Anisha’s words. Once or twice he tried engaging her in a
conversation, but words failed him. He couldn’t think of anything
at all to say. So he went over the old equation again and again. He
was the alpha boy, and she was the most beautiful girl. He was a
better student and the best athlete, but she was a fine orator and
the best dancer. Everybody knew her but his stock was rising. They
were evenly matched. But were they? Her family was better off, her
sweater softer. She wore jeans, he polyester trousers, and his
white Adidas shoes, which he had bought at a discount sale, were
tight and crushing his big toes. They were so painful, he could
have cried, but he had bought that worthless pair—two sizes too
small—only to impress her. He longed to loosen the laces and pull
his feet out for a while, but the girls had decided to stand, and
now, after 12 hours, the pain in his feet was unbearable, yet he
had to endure it till he saw them off at school.

In two more weeks,
the school would close for the Christmas break. Manu was nowhere
close to winning Anisha’s heart. The rumour about the class 8 boy
hadn’t waned, and Manu had no new ideas to stay in the game
although Anisha’s remark about his remissness had raised his hopes
while returning from the picnic in the bus.

***

The state-level
athletics meet came and Manu surprised himself and his teachers by
winning a gold medal in discus throw. Sunrays didn’t have a bright
record in athletics and a gold medal was a big deal for them. Manu
was the school’s star for a few days and fame gave him the courage
to take a step. He turned to Neha for help, and after she had
laughed off her surprise, she agreed to be his messenger. There was
to be no letter—Manu didn’t want to leave any evidence in case
Anisha spurned him. Neha somehow he trusted not to gossip, and in
this his faith wasn’t misplaced.

Anisha agreed, and
Manu got her answer in the cycle stand from Neha. He was thrilled.
He had won his biggest trophy so far. But the joy was short-lived.
He found his position very awkward now. He wanted to talk to Anisha
alone, but he couldn’t very well draw her aside from her group
without raising eyebrows. At the very least, he would need to tell
the other girls in their group about the affair, but Anisha forbade
it. She didn’t trust them all that much, and a rumour would reach
her mother within days.

Manu could gladly
keep his love a secret, but what he yearned for was a special mark,
a sign of his place in her eyes. But this she wouldn’t bestow. His
presence made her clam up. She would eat her tiffin quietly,
averting her face in a way that showed unease. Yet, the rumours
about the class 8 boy reached his ears again and again. Sometimes
Manu thought of knocking up his rumoured rival, but it was a
foolish idea and he knew it. It would only get him out of
school.

The winter
holidays came and passed, and when the students met again it was
1990. Manu had had a lot of time to think about Anisha and had
decided to break up if love meant misery and strange looks.

Nothing changed in
the New Year. They wished each other Happy New Year cheerfully, and
for a few days Manu hoped that they would get to be comfortable in
each other’s company. He started walking up to her directly and
noticed that the others gave them their space. Word had got around
in the holidays after all. Anisha herself had confided in Ginny,
and she had passed on the news to a few others. Somehow, even the
girls in Manu’s class knew and Priya looked at him
reproachfully.

Anisha and Manu
met alone a few times, chaperoned by Ginny, and every time he felt
the blood rush to his head. She always carried a little
handkerchief and he marvelled at the way she twirled it around
between her soft, long fingers. But the talking was left to Ginny,
who chaffed him all the time for being unsuitable for her precious
friend.

Manu decided it
was time to break up. This had been a big mistake. He should have
followed his first impulse that had never allowed him to like
Anisha. One day, he again made Neha his confidante, but she refused
to carry the message. “I can’t tell her that,” she said. “Will you
carry a note at least?” he pleaded.

He was careful not
to sign the note. It was written on a piece torn from his rough
notebook: “I liked you very much, but you don’t seem happy. Let’s
end it here”.

He felt a hatred
for Anisha he didn’t know he was capable of. And she reciprocated
it. They would pass by in the corridor without casting a glance at
each other. He stopped going to meet Neha and the other girls
whenever she was around. It was an undefinable feeling that didn’t
affect him when Anisha wasn’t around. His unit test scores weren’t
affected. In fact, he felt relieved that he had dabbled in love and
given up. He also congratulated himself that by breaking off he had
avoided getting dumped.

It was a good
thing that Manu broke up with Anisha when he did. Rumours and some
hard evidence in the form of letters had reached the staffroom.
Class 8’s stories were more scandalous but class 7’s couldn’t be
ignored either.

One day, 7-B’s
class teacher, Lata Ma’am, called all the known love birds from
their sections and gave them some plain talk in her harsh, booming
voice at the corner of the playground. Anisha was in Lata Ma’am’s
class so she had to be present. Manu wasn’t called but he watched
from a distance, worrying whether he had left some evidence
behind.

He saw Anisha cry,
but told himself that it wasn’t his fault. She was probably paying
for her dalliance with the senior boy.

The meeting broke
up with solemn promises from the students to mend their ways. In
reality, they became more circumspect, and that was all. The exams
came, the students passed and went to the next class. Manu and
Anisha remained in different sections. They remained as cold and
indifferent to each other as ever, and so they could have spent
three more years in school, and gone their ways never to meet
again.

But something
happened, and that will be the last story in this book.

***

This is the
last story in this book, but it isn’t the last chapter in Manu and
Anisha’s story. April, May, June and July went by. In August, Manu
dutifully presented his arm to the same girls who had tied him
rakhis the previous year. With time, he had opened up to them,
smiled and talked without reserve. He had grown fond of them and
become fiercely protective as a brother ought to be.

Then came
September, the rainy season was losing steam but the ground around
the cycle stands was overgrown with tall grasses. The grass hid
treacherous, slippery patches of moss, and if you were foolhardy
enough to take that path, you had to tread very carefully.