I had meant it as a joke. But as I say it, something in my brain clicks. Aisha has just apologized, but there is a strange indignation in her manner. Kind of defensive. I look her straight in the eye.
‘Ma found out that someone sent the e-mail to the e-mail id the newspaper had created for their “Students and Exams” feature,’ I explain.
Aisha freezes and asks, ‘How did she find out?’
‘Her columns feature in that paper,’ I answer in a hard voice. ‘Was it you, Aisha? How did you get the papers? I thought you disapproved of Amroli’s practices and left the classes.’
‘I got a friend to mail them,’ she says flatly. Her face is expressionless and she gets up and walks to the door. She holds it open for me. ‘My parents found out and they too think it is the right thing. You’ve ruined the life of every student who gave exams this year. Many students commit suicide every year. This year, at least half of them must have died because of you. You wanted to go. So, go.’
And I go, realizing I have lost the one genuine friend I could have had for ever.
The principal is threatening to cancel my application form for the boards. In fact, he says he will. No other student has ever brought this kind of shame to the school.
I sit down on one of the sofas in the school’s reception area. My head is throbbing from yesterday’s events. I have come only because the principal threw a fit when he discovered that, contrary to my parent’s reassurances that the whole matter would soon die, all the newspapers carried front-page articles on enquiries into the ‘recently uncovered mass paper leaking’.
There is hardly any mention of me. Certainly no mention of the school. But he is still acting like a nutcase.
‘Ira!’ Nihar, Rika, Shantanu and Nim cry out together when they see me. I groan inwardly. Their presence is certainly not going to help my splitting headache.
‘Duuuude, what the hell?’ Nihar exclaims, shocked as he drops down beside me. His eyes are as big as saucers. ‘What is happening? Wow!’
I glare at him, feeling a sudden urge to slap him. It’s not like I’m winning the World Cup or hiding crores earned nefariously from a Swiss Bank account. There’s no reason for him to look so stunned.
‘What?’ I say coldly. I look at Nihar carefully. There is something different about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it. He is still pimply and rough. I set the question aside to re-focus on the matter at hand.
‘Lavisha told us that you said you wouldn’t make papers now,’ Nim accuses me.
‘Yeah.’ I massage my temples. ‘You have a problem with that?’
‘Yes,’ Nihar says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I am still a little confused about what has changed about him. ‘Ira, you promised us. You said you would!’
‘Nihar, do you read the newspapers? Do you know the extent of the problems that are going on in college admissions? Do you know why hordes of students and parents are protesting against the examination boards and hankering for retests? Because of me.’
‘But all the papers say that you are just a cover-up. None of them blames you,’ Nim points out very helpfully (and daftly). ‘Rika was right. All the screws in your head have fallen off.’
‘Shut up,’ I snarl at her. As an afterthought, I add, ‘But why do you say so?’ This last part is directed at Rika.
‘How does it matter, Ira?’ Nim wails. ‘You have to do it.’
‘No, I don’t,’ I say curtly. ‘Now can you guys go? I have a headache.’
‘Ira, don’t lie,’ Nihar says angrily. ‘You promised you would do it for us. We are your friends. We trusted you.’
‘Nihar! I’m not your bloody servant that I’ll meekly obey your orders.’
The receptionist glares at me from her desk, scandalized by my language. She so needs to venture out in the school a bit more.
‘Ira, try to understand. We haven’t studied a thing. There are barely two days left for the exams to start. We’ll fail,’ Nihar says, the panic in his voice rising by a few notches.
‘And is that my fault?’ I hiss. ‘First you guys make me go to that madman Amroliwallah. I get into so much shit. My parents have never been so angry with me and, trust me, I’ve had my fair share of sticky situations. And now you still want me to do this after what’s happened?’
They are ogling at me, surprised by my outburst.
They have no answer, but refuse to leave till their mission is accomplished. An awkward silence ensues for at least fifteen minutes, till Shantanu says, ‘Listen, Ira, we’re sorry. I know we shouldn’t have forced you into this but it doesn’t change the fact that you made some promises.’
Bile rises to my mouth. I had made promises. I am the evil party all over again while they are the innocent angels whose trust I betrayed.
‘You guys are disgusting,’ I growl. ‘And anyway, if Rika and Lavisha have told you that I’m not going to prepare your papers, I bet they’ve told you the reason too.’
‘Yeah, but we all know you’re lying,’ Nihar says, brushing it aside easily. He stares at me resolutely for some time and finally it clicks—he had stopped scratching himself you-know-where. And he isn’t even using that foul anti-itching cream!
‘I’m not!’ I counter.
‘But you can’t prepare a wrong paper, Ira!’ Nihar reasons. ‘You tried once, it didn’t happen, remember?’
‘That’s because I didn’t know a thing about what I was reading!’ I exclaim.
‘Rika, tell me. Haven’t I always discussed the important questions before exams?’ I ask loudly. ‘I always do that. But tell me, did any of them ever come?’
Rika remains silent. In fact, Rika hasn’t spoken one word yet. I’d almost forgotten she was standing there.
I have truly stumped them.
‘Did they come?’ Nihar asks uneasily.
‘No, you idiot,’ I reply, ‘I think it’s because before the pre-boards I wasn’t prepared at all. I didn’t know anything in chemistry when Amroliwallah asked me to prepare the paper in his office. Nihar, when you asked me to help you for the history exam, I had just finished revising my history portion. I was so thorough with it. That’s why those questions never came.’
‘So,’ Rika says in an utterly disbelieving tone, ‘that’s why you could make papers for twelfth standard and IIT-JEE but you can’t make them for us?’
‘Yes,’ I exclaim, eager to get at least one person on my side, ‘I can only predict papers when I need to.’
‘Oh my god, Ira,’ Nihar screeches, ‘what was the need for you to start studying for the boards? It would have been so much easier for you and us if you didn’t.’
‘What is wrong with you?’ Rika says, shocked. ‘Ignore him, Ira.’
Surprised and somewhat gratified by Rika actually defending me, I look at all of them. The only constant in life is change.
They got tired after a few rounds of bitter arguments and accusatory glares and fled when the principal (finally) deigned to come out and scream at me. Yup, just me. It seemed that given recent events, I was his new scapegoat.
My parents didn’t even acknowledge me when they were summoned again. They just looked through me and entered the principal’s office with a brave face. I was, as usual, told to stand outside.
I have a feeling it would be best for me to pack my bags and move in with my aunt in Simla. I can always enroll in the pretty, colonial boarding schools there and snootily tell everyone that I study in Kareena Kapoor’s old school.
Nim, Shantanu, Rika and Nihar weren’t my only visitors. Streams of students travelling through the corridor frequently halted to rudely inquire whether I am that Ira or to shamelessly point and giggle at me. The bolder ones asked me about my future plans.
To become the education minister of India, I told one student. To my amazement, he believed me and thought I would make a very good one.
‘What happened?’ I ask Papa worriedly when they finally come out of the principal’s office. Ma is more likely to slap me if
I even greet her. She refuses to talk to me. She used to take pride in the fact that her daughter studied in a school like mine but still didn’t drink, flunk her exams or have a boyfriend and was not a social outcast either.
Papa gruffly thrusts a newspaper in my hands and my eyes pop.
17
‘Wow,’ Harsh remarks, flabbergasted. ‘Did that really happen?’
Seeing my grim expression, he amends, ‘I mean, are these people making up the whole cheating incident in Kanpur or did it really happen?’
‘It happened,’ I reply sourly. Much as I wish he would leave me alone, he is the only friend who would never ask me to prepare any papers for him.
I’ve been sitting in the principal’s room, bored out of my skull. Even though tenth and twelfth standards are on study leave, our school makes it a point to call us every alternate day for something embarrassingly mundane like filling in even more forms.
The only people I bump into here are stunned teachers with diverse ranges of disapproval and equally indignant student council members. Like Harsh Asnani.
‘You know, Ira, you shouldn’t shirk your responsibilities like this,’ he says, referring to my ignorance of the recent school team selections. ‘You are the sports vice-captain!’
‘Whatever,’ I reply indifferently. Didn’t he realize that the football selection of annoying twelve-year-olds couldn’t hold a candle to my frequent newspaper appearances? I shove the paper in his face.
‘How did you …?’ Harsh stops when he sees my face and hastily amends, ‘I mean, you didn’t really cheat in eighth standard, did you?’
Why is he talking about cheating like it’s some above-fourteen-only activity? I mean, I’ve seen students cheating since second standard.
And in a school like this, even kindergarten kids know how to cheat without getting caught. ‘No, Harsh,’ I reply. ‘I did not cheat. It was this big mess up.’
Hoping he won’t ask for further details, I abruptly pick up a lurid red magazine. Only to put it down with a shudder when I realize it is an EduToday magazine.
‘So, what happened?’ he asks shamelessly.
I sigh. ‘Uff, there were these few questions that were not supposed to come in the exam. I don’t know what happened exactly. Everyone was under the impression that one chapter wasn’t in the syllabus. Anyway, I knew it would come and I told them. So when it came everyone assumed the teacher and I were in cahoots.’
‘Why did they assume that?’ he asks, confused. ‘And what do you mean you knew it would come? You predicted or what?’
‘Yeah, I guess so. And they assumed what they did because I was the teacher’s daughter’s best friend.’
‘Oh.’ After a short pause, he asks, ‘Which subject?’
I look at him awkwardly. ‘Math.’
Harsh gives me a strange smile on hearing that and leans back in his chair. I keep looking down, feeling ashamed of myself. He must’ve understood.
‘That’s why I stopped talking to you,’ I add in a small voice. ‘I didn’t want anything to happen again.’
‘You mean you knew you could predict papers? That is, if you’re best friends with the teacher’s kid?’ he says, startled.
‘No, baba!’ I cry out, torn between amusement and exasperation. ‘I just thought that I’d overheard or something.’
He nods mock-seriously and we burst out laughing, much to the receptionist’s surprise.
‘So, what happened then?’ he asks after we have composed ourselves.
‘Nothing. I was very politely chucked out of the school and we decided to pack our bags and move here.’ I tilt my head to one side and smile at him.
‘Oh, so that’s why your father had to pay a donation!’ he exclaims. I can see that he regrets his words as soon as he says them. His cheeks redden and I realize this is what I must look like in front of Aisha every time I put my foot in my mouth.
‘Yeah,’ I admit dully. ‘How did you know?’
‘My father told me,’ he answers, visibly embarrassed.
‘This sucks,’ I say. ‘I’ll probably have to leave this school too. There’s no way I’m continuing here even if he doesn’t chuck me out.’
‘Why?’
‘Because everyone hates me!’ I cry. ‘None of my friends likes me. Not Rika or Lavisha or Shantanu! No one!’
Harsh keeps quiet. But I know what he is thinking. He never liked them and that is a major reason why he used to be so nasty to me.
‘Rika’s nice,’ he says after some time. I glance at him, speechless.
‘How do you know? You don’t even speak to her.’
‘I do,’ he corrects me. ‘She’s the vice-head girl. I thought she was snooty and annoying but she’s nice. We’re friends now.’
I am appalled. Harsh is my friend. Not Rika’s! I thought she considered him a nerd of the worst type.
‘Rika is so two-faced,’ I hiss. Turning to him, I say, ‘You know what? She never liked you. Why is she so chummy now all of a sudden?’
Harsh looks stunned. ‘I thought you both were friends. Like best friends.’
‘Yeah. But she is the one who hasn’t behaved the way a best friend should,’ I say sourly.
‘Whatever … Shouldn’t you be mad at that Lavisha girl instead?’
‘Why?’ I frown at him. ‘What has she done?’
‘Isn’t she the one who suggested you be used for the benefit of your coaching class?’
‘Whaat? No!’ I inform him. ‘But that doesn’t change anything. I am leaving this school.’
‘You can’t run away from schools all the time,’ he says lightly. ‘And there are other kids too. Not everyone hates you.’
‘Of course they do,’ I shriek. ‘They all think I’m a liar.’
‘Why?’ he asks.
‘Because,’ I say, taking a deep breath, ‘I can’t make question papers for them any more.’
‘And why is that?’ he enquires, the sides of his mouth curving slightly.
I glare at him. He still thinks the whole thing is a big joke.
‘Because I can’t,’ I admit, my nostrils flaring.
‘You mean to say you’ve lost your gift?’ He looks like he is going to burst out laughing any moment now.
I purse my lips. For some reason, the whole situation is starting to strike me as funny.
‘Yes,’ I inform him curtly, willing myself not to start laughing. But my mouth twitches and I let out a giggle. To my surprise, Harsh is quiet.
‘So did you actually leak papers for these exams?’ he asks, and continues before I can launch into a defensive tirade, ‘I mean, if you cannot do your prediction thing, then how?’
‘It’s only now that I can’t do it,’ I say coldly. Trust my friends to think of me only as a liar or a cheat.
‘Why?’ he asks infuriatingly.
‘I don’t know!’ I yell, then shrink back when I hear a particularly nasty hiss from the principal’s secretary.
‘This has to be the weirdest thing I’ve seen or heard of,’ Harsh concludes. ‘And don’t shriek in my ears. I’m not blaming you.’
Eager to run Tanu bai’s highly improbable theory in front of someone, I explain, ‘They say it’s because I don’t need it now. I mean, it’s not as if I can predict papers before every exam. It’s just happened—’
‘Wait a minute, you can’t?’ he asks, interrupting my carefully prepared reasoning. ‘I think so too, you know. That’s why I didn’t believe you at first. Not that I believe in your prediction shit now.’
‘How sweet of you,’ I reply. ‘I mean, I suppose I can predict one or two questions … Anyway, that’s not important,’ I continue, feeling rather disoriented. ‘The fact is, I can only predict papers when I need to or basically when I don’t know the matter. See, I wasn’t prepared for the prelims at all. I hadn’t even opened my textbooks to study by mistake. So I could make them. As a result, not only could I make papers for the prelims but also for other standard ten boards. And god bless my soul if I
understood even one word of what I wrote for the mock papers.’
I take a deep breath, trying to take in the hurried speech I’d just made.
Harsh looks dumbfounded. I don’t blame him. My own parents couldn’t take it and had immediately told me to go to my room and not interfere.
We don’t speak for some time and soon he goes in to meet the principal. He takes ages. Under the apprehensive stares of all those sitting with me, I feel like a zoo exhibit—the kind that is so dangerous there’s a long queue of anxious people clutching their tickets for it and it is only seen in groups.
‘Did you know that Ashok Amroliwallah has been compulsively stalking you?’ Harsh asks me blankly when he comes out.
‘What?’ My mouth drops open. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Yeah,’ he says, looking suitably alarmed. Pointing towards the door of the principal’s chamber, he says, ‘He told me.’
‘What is he doing?’ I ask, feeling revolted.
‘Well, he’s been calling you like mad and sending you desperate e-mails. I take it that your parents have restricted your access to your laptop and cell phone?’
I nod sulkily. TV is the only thing I can watch. That too only in the company of Tanu bai or my parents. Which completely rules out Gossip Girl or Two and a Half Men.
‘You aren’t even allowed to travel alone, right?’ he asks pityingly.
I nod, even more miserable. My parents have been safely depositing me in the principal’s waiting area whenever I have had to come to school nowadays. Rika is supposed to drop me home today.
‘That’s terrible. Anyway, I have to go home and study,’ Harsh says as he leaves the room. ‘But just so you know, Ashok Amroliwallah’s apparently instructed your friends to bully and badger you till you give them the papers. They, unfortunately, think you’re lying.’
My friends are such horrid meanies! Rika is ignoring me, singing along to the lyrics of one of her favourite heavy metal bands, the kind whose lyrics or music I can neither understand nor enjoy. The fact that she’s hiding behind the blaring music is a strong indicator of her guilt.
But Ira Said Page 15