Schoolmates

by Latika Sharma

  “But my file isn’t here.” Kabir began humming some tune.

  “Have you submitted it already?” I had suddenly looked up at his face. I couldn’t believe he had beaten me to it.

  “No. No, I meant I have not brought it to school, it’s at my place.”

  “But today is submission Kabir . . . And you recollect how Bony was pissed at you.” I had asked seriously, trying vainly to reason with him.

  “You think I care for that Bony Phony . . . he is a lousy person and a shit teacher!” Kabir had flared at the mention of Mr. Bonerjee.

  “Stop it Kabir! He is our teacher and will be for the full term. It’s bad that you don’t study but it’s worse to publically abuse your teachers! It’s not sir’s fault that you aren’t studious enough.” I saw Kabir stiffen at my retort and his ears turn their characteristic crimson. Clearly he was mad at me, but oddly he said not a word of retaliation. He just turned and clomped away dumping the pink cover intentionally near the classroom entrance door. I then realized what mistake I had done. Kabir got this talk from everyone. His entire circle of people gave him this similar pep talk—his parents, our teachers and now me . . . his friends too. This really had hurt him but as it was the truth he din’t say a word in his defence.

  When the class was about to be over that day, I was awaiting the call for collection of files. It was my duty, you see, to collect files and make lists of the defaulters. So when Mr. Bonerjee called for it, I promptly got up and went about my business. I intentionally went towards Kabir’s seat and asked dutifully for his file. He didn’t even look up.

  Later, submitting the files, I had handed Mr. Bonerjee the defaulter’s list. As he began calling out their names, I sneaked a look at Kabir who was sitting at the end of the class, two rows behind me. He was preparing himself to get up, when the shrill call of the names ceased. The look on Kabir’s face matched Mr.Bonerjee’s. Both were definitely surprised by the absence of Kabir’s name in the defaulter’s list.

  Mr. Bonerjee asked me, “Riya did you write all names correctly? Not missed anyone?”

  “No Sir.” I spoke smoothly. “Although his work is incomplete Sir, but as I din’t know what to do so I collected Kabir’s file also Sir.” I had then looked at Kabir and smiled sweetly, hoping he would understand. He just looked puzzled and surprised.

  “Well, I’m not checking incomplete work. So Mr. Kabir, take your file back. Finish your work and resubmit it tomorrow.” Clearly, Mr. Bonerjee was missing scolding Kabir and didn’t like the sound of his own words. Kabir walked up to the teacher’s table and looked confused. He was not aware; you see how his file looked! So he was having difficulty in locating it. Mr. Bonerjee thought Kabir only to be inept and didn’t suspect anything. I know Kabir looked many times in my direction that day, but I intentionally ignored him.

  So, as soon as the school was over, he came running to me at the same spot where we had accidently first met. I was expecting this. I smiled as he approached me.

  “What the hell was that all about? What did you mean by doing this? I didn’t ask to be helped!” He was annoyed but was not shouting at me.

  “’Thank you’ would have done it Kabir,” I kept smiling at him. I was a bit surprised though. I did not expect a pleasant thank you, perhaps the boy did not know the gesture existed, yet to hear anger in his voice made me take a step down. May be he was not accustomed to being helped, I thought, or he is indeed a nitwit, as Anjali often termed him.

  He was clearly not expecting this nonchalance from me. He just went mute and stared at me. Finally I giggled and said, “Look Kabby, I am really sorry I spoke that way to you. So to compensate my erratic behaviour, I saved you from another reprimand.”

  Kabir’s eyes widened and he said, “Well, whatever you just said, I didn’t get much of it except that you saved my as** . . . me . . . saved me. I suppose I must thank you for it. But don’t bother again.” I did not miss the correction he had made in my presence.

  I had gotten up and stood next to Kabir holding the latest edition of National Geographic across my chest. I said, “Kabir, everyone needs help. And if you spent a fraction of effort at studies as compared to basketball, you would understand all that I just said.”

  “Yeah . . . right. I don’t have time.” Kabir gave his standard answer, looked sideways and ruffled his perfectly set hair in that typical boyish gesture.

  “Then make time Kabir. God knows you have an upcoming retest for Science and Maths. If you fail... they will throw you back in class Ninth. Now you don’t want that do you?” I was just being my old rational, yet persuasive self.

  To this Kabir didn’t reply but looked down. I now know, Kabir always went silent when he covertly agreed with another person. Somehow, the always vocal, Kabir Sharma got mum when he couldn’t contradict someone.

  I continued, “Look Kabby, don’t mind, you can borrow my previous year’s notes. They will help you. And I can lend you my Physics file as well. Get it back tomorrow ok. Finish the write up of practical.”

  “Speaking of the file, do you carry a spare each day? And were you not scared, had Bony opened the file you submitted he would have fired you. It was completely blank! Yeah . . . Except for my name on it!” Kabir looked amazingly at me.

  “That was a well calculated risk. I realized Sir would be too overwhelmed to see your file that he may not bother opening it when I would casually say it was incomplete. And that is exactly what he did. And No, I don’t carry spare file each day. But I do carry cash. I purchased it during recess, covered it with the same pink chart you had thrown away in the morning.” I finished triumphantly patting my back. This brought a tiny flicker of smile on Kabir’s face. I always knew he was a handsome guy. But up close, I realized just how much, made my heart skip a tiny little beat, I think, back then.

  “Kabir, I’ve put my neck on line here for you. You better do the file work and submit it tomorrow. Just don’t tell anyone what I did. Ok. It’s our secret. OK? And don’t look so shocked. I too have guts man!” I raised my collars and we both giggled at our own luck.

  Later, I gave him my notes. He was surprised at my cleverness and boldness. He was not expecting me, the bookworm, to be this wicked. I guess that drew him to me. I began helping him by giving my notes and files regularly. And so our interaction grew beyond the Hi-Hello stage. I soon realised how prejudiced we students are in our teens. Kabir was a fine boy, a true gentleman in my presence and he did know that the gesture called ‘Thanks’ existed as he made it towards me numerous times in the coming weeks.

  CHAPTER-4

  The next day, right in the morning I went up to him and asked for my file back. Actually I wanted to see if he had completed his work as I was extremely perturbed and surprised at my own audacity. I mean what had I been thinking being all charitable and mushy? I knew his awesome looks did not catch my fancy but then there was no other valid explanation for my over-the-board helpful nature as well. I did not want Anjali to find out. She would never understand.

  Mentally I had promised myself never to do such things again. What I din’t realize was that for Kabir I would take bigger risks, and pretty soon too.

  “Thanks Riya.” Kabir handed me my file and smiled. I asked to see his work and he obediently handed that too. What I saw didn’t surprise me. His work was not more than a grade ‘C’, with poor sense of spacing and a poorer handwriting, internally, I winced at the banal quality of work he had done. It appeared that the eraser and scale did not exist for him. I looked from his file to his face with a retched expression on my face.

  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 we
ll?”

  “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.

  CHAPTER-5

  “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 ti
me 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.

  CHAPTER-6

  Anger—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!”