Authors: Latika Sharma
Schoolmates (4 page)
“What? What will you do? Miss a few more shots to bump me? Or call me a flightless bird, or make sounds when I read or drink water from my bottle . . . You really think you will scare me with all this. The fact is this Dev, listen carefully. I am a prefect, and you are a defaulter student. Any damn thing you say against me will be heeded by no one but just one word from me can get you and your idiot Kabir off the team.” Of course this wasn’t true, but it left the desired impact as Dev was too hot headed to realize that a prefect has no say in school team selections. But I can be very convincing and boisterous.
I allowed it to sink in. When I realized the bullet had hit its target, I sat down again casually, and began my work again.
“Don’t mess with us.” Dev growled at me.
“Pay attention around yourself Dev, No one is interested in you enough to do anything.” I was sharp, a bit too much I suppose. Dev felt the prick of my words and said a few more lines in response but finally my bus arrived and I left. Kabir had not missed a scene from where he stood looking keenly at us. I’m sure Dev gave him a full report.
After this I saw a change in them both. They stopped publically insulting me, but maintained a cold shoulder. All this animosity was not missed by our class fellows. It had been a month now and all knew by then that Kabir and Riya were at war. Ayesha was looking for an opportunity too, to show me down. So obviously she sided with Kabir and bad-mouthed me all the more amongst the girls.
All this would have continued had it not been for Anjali. Now let me make it clear, what she did was unintentional, and meant as a prank. But all it did was put an end to our cold war, to her and every one’s great relief. I still thank her for it, and she makes fun of it even today.
“T
he first term practical were about to begin. We were ‘ getting the last of revision classes in the laboratory. That day, it was our chemistry practical and last date for file submission. Kabir had finished his file this time, with dear Ayesha’s help. He was boasting of it in the class, especially flaunting it in front of me. But a great shock awaited him in the practical. When he opened his bag for submission, his file was not there!
Because of his poor record no teacher would believe him but this time his class backed him, at least Ayesha did. But as I was the declared honest pupil of my class, Mrs Vineetha George summoned me and asked, “Riya is Kabir telling the truth? You collected the files. Was his file there?”
I knew Anjali had slipped it out of his bag and placed it on the class book rack, intentionally. She had told me herself. But before I could say something Kabir spoke, “Ma’am she will say no. But believe me; I was having it in the morning.”
And what followed was a long spell of scolding from Mrs Vineetha regarding manners, decency, punctuality and every possible thing in the dictionary. Kabir stood there mutely, taking in all this, and I stood there caught in my own guilt. She shouted on Kabir a lot that day. And when the bell rang Kabir dejectedly picked up his bag and left, but not before giving me the vilest look. I was so consumed by the guilt that I scolded Anjali and didn’t speak to her on our way back home. That night I slept poorly, but I knew what had to be done.
The next day, Chemistry was the fifth period after the break. When Mrs Vineetha came in and settled us down, I got up walked up to her, gulping the air which dried my throat. Anjali was sitting there too, a nervous wreck.
“Excuse me ma’am. This is Kabir’s file. I had missed it on the rack mistakenly yesterday. Kabir was not lying, it was all my fault.” I was shivering and looked down. The entire class was quiet. Mrs Vineetha realized then that she had scolded Kabir harshly and apparently for nothing. So to compensate it she scolded me more harshly. I almost had tears in my eyes by the time she ended her rebuking monologue. Anjali, on the other hand was clearly consumed with anger and remonstration. I had decided the previous night that she will have no part in this as all she did was be my friend and play a prank on my enemy.
On my way back I stopped next to Kabir’s seat and without raising my eyes, which were fighting to hold back tears by then said meekly, “I am sorry Kabby . . . aa...Kabir.”
“So? What do you want? A medal? Be happy you have guts to own up!!” Kabir had not even looked at me. But this ended the cold war between us. I had nodded and left.
Many days passed before Kabir realized what actually had happened. There were the First terminal examinations around the corner and thanks to them all my concentration was on studies. In tenth everything is big and important. The teachers however make it bigger. They load us with threats and feed us fear regarding the monster of board’s examinations. So much is emphasised and over explained that we feel we are at gun point of CBSE—Central Board of Secondary Education. Everyone is breathing down our necks; extra classes drain every ounce of energy and frolics. Amid all this, a very important event had begun. It was the Inter school basketball tournaments. Our school had been the unbeatable champions for the past five years. Kabir had been the reason for the last victory. No doubt the boy had talent and so, this time, he was the declared star. He had been preparing for these tournaments assiduously, and was all geared up now.
Before we proceed there is a thing about basketball I’d like to share. The game is fast and sweaty and in part it is the months of training that leads a sportsman to perform in the court. But a significant part is also the cheering of the spectators, especially girls! We din’t have a cheerleading squad, but girls were always welcomed (even encouraged sometime) to view matches and shout and howl and cheer the young energetic budding stars. Kabir was aware of this. Kabir also knew he had a female fan club. And hence he was all set for these glorious two months of tournament.
His walk was different, he smelled different (after matches boys were allowed deodorants . . . they badly needed them) and all the popular brands were floating in the school corridors. In any school, one can easily identify the senior class corridors by the vibrant and masculine fragrances of boy’s deodorant. Kabir too would smell great after each practice and intentionally passed me in class. We had not crossed each other since the file episode. But that was soon to change. Anjali, she still can’t keep her mouth shut. I thank god each day for that!
That day, she was standing in the so called queue for purchasing drinks from school canteen. Dev was behind her. Anjali stepped back and right on his foot. “Sorry” she had said without looking at his face.
“You should be.” Dev was curt as usual. When she ignored him, he mumbled, “Sick!”
“What did you call me?” Anjali turned to face him. Now he looked the other way without speaking.
“What Dev? You don’t have guts to speak your nonsense to my face? Afraid I may say something to highlight you?” Anjali was provoking him. She succeeded.
“No. Girls like you can highlight boys like me, but can’t face the facts. So buzz off to your highlighted friend.” Dev was angry.
“Listen Dev; if you and your friends are such duds at studies don’t be jealous. And don’t bad mouth any of my friends without knowing what really happened. You may feel sorry for what you have said.” Anjali was only defending me as she was already feeling low from letting me take the full blame that day.
Now Dev was curious and when she paid and left the canteen counter he followed her and stopped her midway. “Tell me what happened?” Anjali looked at his face. He was clearly not going to take no for an answer and so after five minutes of sharp dialogue she told him the entire truth of how I had taken the fall. She left, as I was waiting in the stands and the match was about to begin. Dev left as he had to tell Kabir who was also waiting for the match to begin.
The match began. Kabir was amazing and we all cheered for him. We won, not only the match. For us it was another victory. We were friends again that day. I knew that when after scoring the final victorious basket, Kabir looked at me. All were patting him and he just looked at me. I knew he had forgiven me, and he knew I had forgiven him back.
T
o make a long story short, Kabir and I reconciled later. He apologized and so did I. He was amazed at my patience and restrain at loading such stuff on me and I was amazed that he passed his compartments as all he was seen doing was practice ball.
Amid the matches, I began lending him my notes again and even demanding he finish his studies on time. I don’t know why but I quite easily forgot my resolution to stay away from him. Anjali kept reminding me but it was of no use. By the end of August, I was helping Kabir full time after school while waiting for the bus.
“What is this Kabir? Look at your handwriting! It’s worthless to be able to write but write so poor. And why are your geography notes incomplete?” I retorted one day. We were sitting on the steps of the basketball court. Kabir was copying English answers from my already checked notebook.
“Sorry. I will do it tonight.”
“What all will you do in one night?”
“Loads can be done in one night babe! Earth turns around in a night.” Kabir smiled flirtingly at me.
“Don’t talk nonsense. I’m serious Kabby! You have to really have the desire to work in class. Most of the time you are busy doodling with Dev. You better stop or I will stop lending my stuff to you. Now I hope you remember there is a class test tomorrow, of Chemistry. You better study, as I will ask you tomorrow in class.”
“Yes madam . . . now draw that biology diagram in my file. You know I am poor at it.” Kabir continued copying from my register.
“Poor is an understatement!” I looked at him and we both giggled. He was horrible at drawing!
The next day was eventful. When I asked Kabir questions in the zero period he fumbled with the answers. Clearly he had not prepared. All he did was change seats and sit with me.
“What is wrong with you? Does it not bother you to score a zero every time? It’s so shameful Kabir.” I was really upset. After all the hard work I had put in with him I was expecting some change in the boy.
“Chill Riya, it’s just a class test man!”
I really got angry and said, “Get up. I don’t want you sitting here. Go!”
He stood up banged the chair and left. But when the exam began he changed his seat to his favourite one, next to mine but in the adjoining row. Now all during the examination he kept looking at me for answers. To his surprise and later anger, I gave him none. He interrupted me many times, asking for pencil and scale and many such trifles, asking questions but I din’t respond even once.
That day I knew he was angry. He walked up to me as I sat on the steps that day and dumped his bag right at my feet.
“Great madam . . . thank you very much. I was expectingnothing else from you “ When I din’t say anything and asked formy Chemistry register back he had kneeled down, to open his bag dejectedly shaking his head.
“Why did you expect me to allow you to cheat after all the work we have done together? Why din’t you study Kabir?” I asked softly.
“That does not matter. You were there and I asked many times and you din’t help. Why?” He looked earnestly at me.
“Because I don’t want you to develop this idea that I will let you cheat. I will assist you in studies and finishing any assignment, but will never let you cheat. Fail if you must, but be honest at least in that.” I said.
“Stop this crap Riya. Don’t lecture me. You won’t help I understand ok.” He handed me my file and began to walk off. I ran up to him and said, “Kabby, tomorrow is submission of history notebooks. Here, my work is done. Finish yours.” And before he could refuse I slipped it in his hand and headed back. Kabir knew he wanted my notes and so took them with much trepidation.
Ayesha had seen that we were friends again, and she din’t like it. She had a crush on Kabir (most dames from all six sections did, some even from the lower classes). And I and Ayesha were . . . to put it clearly, land & sky. We did not see eye to eye. Kabir, the sweet heart, knew this.
Early on that day, he sat next to Ayesha and flirted with her to her great pleasure. And Ofcource, he was sitting in his favourite seat. Anjali sitting next to me finally said, “What happened? Why,O lord, is Casanova angry?”
“Madam Curie din’t let him cheat. Casanova is smouldering!” I smiled and replied. To this Anjali laughed loudly, such that it drew Kabby’s attention. He looked at me and saw my smiling face and his ears turned red. My job was done. Before the day ended he had been scolded twice for misbehaving and once for non-submission, of History work. It was the last Saturday of first term. Next Monday, the first terminals were beginning. I knew he would speak to me. And he did, much to my delight.
“Listen, I need that Maths register for one day?” Kabir said that day when we met at our spot.
“Why? Ayesha has refused to lend you hers?” I asked in an innocent tone.
“I did not want you to be left out or feel cheated as cheating is an issue with you.” He sat down opening my bag. I don’t know when he had developed that liberty, but even I was unsure now.
I recall clearly, we were both sweating but sat together without speaking for 35 minutes. Delhi is sweltering in summers .Kabir was copying answers from my maths register and I was revising Physics theory. First paper on Monday was Science. Kabir was not going to pass, I knew, but he was making an effort, even this I knew. And looking at his back, I knew I would help him enough to pass one day . . .
D
o you recall your examination days? Let me remind you if your memory has faded. It begins differently for all pupils. Some stay up late night while others get up early. Some always boost of grand preparation while some (mostly the toppers) always claim they would fail. And then there are the third kinds . . . they hardly know anything but would explain the entire battle of Panipath to a damsel in distress. Kabir exemplified such bonds.
No matter how strict a school makes its rules for invigilation, the students always device new and mind boggling ways of cheating. Kabir was popular for such acts. However this time I had hinted how poor it would be for the basketball star to be expelled from the team for cheating and so, unlike his usual self he had studied. I can say this because for the first time instead of flirting with girls he came straight to me and asked, “Look I will not be able to answer this acceleration-time numerical at all. What the hell was wrong with that orange that hit that dud Newton!”