“What happened? Why are you crying?” He held my face in his palms and looked enquiringly at me.
“Nothing. I quarrelled with Anjali.” I spoke amid my sobs.
“You quarrelled? But why?”
“Because of you . . . she doesn’t like . . . you know!” I said rubbing my tears.
“I thought we had that settled, apparently not. Anyway, I just wanted to take you for a ride on my bike. It’s been a long while. So pull up your jacket.” Kabir tried to lighten my mood.
“Ok. But not far, I’m not in a mood today.” I said as I sat behind him.
Kabir never bothered to harass me about the real reason of my worry. He knew Anjali was just as permanent in my life as was he. Yet during the drive, he spoke little as my worry had begun bothering him too. He dropped me near my house after half an hour and said all would be fine. I went inside to sit alone in my room and began studying for the upcoming final exams.
The next day, we did not wish each other as I sat down next to Anjali. In recess, Kabir made it a point to stay away. I was sitting under the thick canopy of the Jacaranda trees on a bench when Ayesha approached me.
“Riya, I suppose Geetanjali has told you that she and I are going to perform solo as well. I want you to make mine, the first item. I wish to change soon and join the group.” Ayesha spoke fluttering her eyes.
“I can’t Ayesha, the traditional prayer dances are always the first ones. I can give you the fifth spot, nothing before that.” I replied.
“C’mon, who would want to see a prayer dance?” she raised her hands in argument.
“The teachers, the Principal, the staff . . . and some of our seniors who still uphold the sanctity of our school spirit.” I replied. I was wondering how long I will have to continue this.
“You can give Anjali a speech on the third spot and Kabir and his group a dance sequence on the fourth spot, but my item is too low for the likes of you, I see.” Ayesha was getting louder by the minute. A few heads had begun turning towards where I sat.
“The order has not been made by me Ayesha. The senior teachers have approved it. Go and discuss the matter with them.” I said clipping my lunch box shut and trying to escape her.
“They will listen to you, I know. You are doing this purposefully. You and that high headed loser friend Anjali of yours.” Ayesha spoke.
“How dare you call her a loser? She has won a scholarship which you can’t even understand, let alone win. She tops our class in debates, declamation and I see more of a lady in her than in you. She knows what loyalty is, unlike you who makes friends only after assessing them financially and Ayesha . . . don’t ever call her high headed. She stands for what she believes in. She has more sense and personality than you can ever see. She has the brightest future amid us all and one day you would tell people that you studied with her, and not vice-versa.” I walked off incensed.
Many had heard our dialogue. Before long Anjali had heard it too.
“You said all those things?” She finally could control no longer and said in the last class of the day.
“Yes.” I did not look up.
“Would it suffice if I said I am blessed to have a friend like you or do you want me to prolong the apology?” She asked in her strong debate like tone.
“It would suffice; I don’t have time for the prolonged thing.” I smiled and looked up at her. My eyes twinkled.
“Hmm, is Kabir waiting again?” She smiled too this time.
“No my friend. It’s because I can’t wait to become friends with you again. “ I spoke gently.
As Anjali held my hand, I felt the sunshine on the cold winter day and lift away the clouds. Life was better again.
When I told Kabir of all this later, he just nodded his head appropriately and smiled. I was aware that his response was not what it ought to have been, yet so lost was I in my narration that I did not pay attention to it. It was a few days later that Dev told me, without knowing it of cource, how Kabir had pepped up Ayesha to join the group early and sent her to me to ‘demand’ for re-arrangement. He knew Anjali’s name would crop up and Ayesha being Ayesha would speak ill about Anjali, which I would never tolerate!
I was amazed at his nerve and height of planning.
“So you did all that?” I asked him later as he sat there munching my lunch.
“Yes and No.” He replied biting into my sandwiches.
“I began it, yes . . . but she carried it so effortlessly, that was amazing!” Kabir said.
I looked from him to Anjali who was sitting beside me completing her speech for the farewell.
“Why Anjali . . . how is the speech coming? Nice to see you too.” Kabir would never miss a chance to tease her.
“Don’t speak with food in your mouth.” She replied.
“My god! You saw that Riya . . . the goddess spoke to me!” Kabir made a bestowing gesture.
“How can you tolerate him Riya . . . I mean just look at him!” Anjali said.
“Why? What’s wrong with me? I thought she was jealous because other girls lined up for me, isn’t it Riya darling!” Kabir finished the last of the sandwich and closed my lunch box.
“Well in that case Mr. Kabir, you should know how lucky you are. No girl would appreciate her boyfriend forgetting her birthday.” Anjali got up to leave.
“What?” Kabir asked.
“My god Riya how can you stand such imbecility? Din’t he wish you?” Anjali made a mocking face and left.
“What was that? Is it your birthday today?” Kabir spoke shocked at the new information.
“Yes Mr. Handsome, for whom so many girls have lined up.” I replied blithely.
“You should have told me . . .” Kabir looked aghast.
“You have taken my diary so many times, how come you never read my personal memo?” I asked.
“Why . . . you . . . you din’t tell me last year either!” he protested.
“Last year you were suspended in these days.” I replied.
Kabir sat down with a slump and made a sorry face. He looked so sweet with that innocent caught-in-the-act face.
“It’s all fine Kabir. Wish me now . . .” I placed my hand on his shoulders.
“Happy Birthday . . .” he spoke peevishly.
“Let’s go, the recess is over and I have Physics practical’s next. Don’t want to be late for Bony’s class.” I pulled him up.
“The day isn’t over yet.” He said and followed me. Inever realized that he would go this far.
In the evening my parents had planned to take me out for a small dinner. As I sat in the parlour waiting for my mom to descend the stairs in one of her flowing sari, there was a knock on the door. My dad came out from his study and opened the door. I stood up as well. He did not move for a while. I wondered what had caught his attention as I could see no one before him.
“Who has sent these?” His commanding voice reverberated in the hall. As he turned around I saw the biggest bouquet of peach roses. I knew who had sent them, but stood there silently.
“What is the matter?” My mom stepped out. She looked so beautiful that for a minute I thought my dad would just drop the issue.
“These? Someone sent them for Riya!” Dad said reading the happy birthday note attached with it.
My parents looked at me for answer. I had one, but dare not give it to them.
“Ok fine . . . does it have any other note or card?” My mom looked back at my dad.
“I think there is,” he looked at me. I froze thinking how painful this evening was about to turn.
Dad opened the seal of the envelope and grazed through the white piece of paper. My face would have matched the shade. My mom saw more than dad and therefore she noticed my stiff disposition.
I sat down as my knees were shaking and I did not wish to fa
ll in front of them.
‘Why Kabir? Why . . . you idiot?’ I thought to myself. I looked the other way expecting my dad to ask me who Kabir was.
“Riya . . . take a look at this.” My mom handed me the piece of burning paper.
I looked at it and then looked up at my parents.
“Let’s go now.” My mom spoke gathering much from the expression on my face.
“Yes.” My dad too understood. I followed warily.
Riya opened her drawer and fumbled with a few papers. Then her hands touched the one she was looking for; crumpled many times over due to repeated folding and openings. Riya remembered how her hands had trembled when she had opened it that day.
She looked at the paper. And smiled again, Kabir was smart, without doubt. She placed it inside again . . . the empty white sheet of paper he had sent for her birthday.
CHAPTER-28
It was now February. The school was in its last days of syllabus completion. All our dedicated teachers were busy scheduling extra classes and completing our internal assessment. I was busy myself. Apart from my studies, I was also focused on Dev and Kabir. I knew they were casual but still I knew they were making an effort this time. I recall reading poems and lessons from our English books, Flamingo and Vistas on ‘our spot’ and Kabir listening to me. Sometimes I was sure he was genuinely interested. The rest of the time . . . well he just loved looking at me.
“Kabby, sit straight, and please pay attention, Ms. Josephina will not give you grades for free. You have to develop your extempore skills. And where is Dev? He has my register.” I looked at Kabir and then stretched my neck to look towards the basketball courts.
“Dev went on half day today, said he was not feeling too well. He left your register with me. And my darling . . . how could I possibly score better when Ms. Josephina compares every one with you, Anjali and Rahul?” Kabir said running his hands through his hair. The sun was warm on his face and his skin glowed with health.
I knew he was a great looking guy, but the light breeze dancing his hair made him look ethereal. Was it me or was he growing much more dazzling by the day?
“What happened to Dev? He is not the kinds to fall ill!” I spoke wondering what ailed him, as the entire school knew Dev was a rock. People saw him bleeding and getting stitches on his fore head without a sound. Even in illness, which others simply refused to bear, Dev had the stamina and will to play an entire match. He was a man in true terms, without a single feeble or delicate bone.
“Beats me!” Kabir replied casually.
The next day too Dev was absent and the day later we discovered he had chickenpox. So he was on a medical leave for as long as it took.
“Oh crap! What will I do without him in practice now?” Kabir had come to leave some registers in my class. I saw his face and the tiny nod he always gave when he wanted me to follow. So it was behind the infamous dark staircase that we stood holding hands and a very worried Kabir could not contain his anguish.
“Don’t worry, it will take about fifteen to twenty days, there is nothing we can do about it. It is viral, you know” I replied.
“So why can’t they give him some pills for it?” Kabir protested like a seven year old.
“Because there are no pills for viral diseases. Remember, antibiotics don’t work against them . . .” I squeezed his hand a little.
Kabir evaluated the information but kept silent.
“You better go now . . . someone will notice.” He replied after a while.
“Ok, but don’t fret. He will be fine.” I replied and touched his shoulder.
I recall Anjali expressing her concerns as well. She said that Kabir was very disturbed by all this as she saw how he simply moved aside when she crossed him in the corridor after recess. I agreed and said that he was concerned about his game, or so he said. The real reason was that he really was lost without his wing man.
That day, after school, as I waited for Kabir on ‘our spot’ I wondered if we should go and see Dev. But then decided against it as viral is infectious and neither one of us would be safe. I was in the process of making a mental note to call Dev up when I heard Mohit’s panting voice.
“Riya, you better come . . . Kabir . . . Tejas . . . fight!” he said amid gasps of air.
I dropped my chemistry refresher and ran to where Mohit was heading. Mohit was our junior and adulated Kabir. For him, Kabir was the Sachin Tendulkar of basketball.
As I neared the court, I saw Angad, Rahul, Jagriti, coach Ranjeet all trying in vain to pull them both apart . . . Tejas and Kabir were entwined like the electricity cables we had in our physics lab. Shirts were torn, lips were bleeding and a lot of cussing was on.
“Enough you two, back off!” coach Ranjeet held Kabir while Angad pulled Tejas.
“Kabir!! Stop!” I did my bit as well. Finally after another few minutes, they both quit snatching at each other’s throat, or perhaps the lactic acid in their muscles made them tired enough to call it quits.
“What happened?” Coach demanded.
“He called Dev . . . something bad!!” Kabir was shaking with rage.
Coach looked around and saw me and Jagriti along with a few other younger girls. He understood Kabir’s hesitation in being elaborate.
As I walked back with Kabir I thought not to ask him about the fight. It was obvious that he was in pain and frustrated at being drawn into a silly brawl with Tejas. It was only yesterday that I was telling him how much he had improved since last year as he suffered no detention this year. Perhaps I spoke to soon, or maybe he was stressed.
As I picked up my bag, he took it, as always from my hands.
“Leave it Kabir, you are hurt . . . I can carry . . .” He did not let me finish.
“I’m not weak Riya. Don’t ever think that. Give it to me.” He looked me in the eye and said it with so much of determination that I simply let him carry my bag to my bus. As he settled me in my seat and was about to leave he said, “Sorry . . . I din’t mean for you to see it!”
“It’s fine. My boyfriend is into sports, he has muscles to die for . . . I really don’t mind” I tried to make him smile. He did so a little and then left. I was relieved that at least I had the sense to give him some space. What had happened exactly would be dug out later, I thought to myself.
The next day, I took some registers from Ms. Ritika Kapoor, Kabir’s Mathematics teacher and entered his class. I was about to ask for permission but the scene which beheld me was unbelievable!
Students were throwing paper balls at each other, few were sitting unaffected chatting away, Ayesha was standing near the window, beckoning to the boys in the next room and the teacher was lost somewhere among the tall students, trying in vain to control the class.
I knew which class this was. Kabir and Dev had mentioned it many a times how Ms. Veena Acharya, their Economics teacher was rather inept at management. Students always had a gala time in her periods. Few went missing and she never realized. It was often in her class that Ms. Josephina entered from the adjoining classes to pacify the situation, much to her annoyance.
As I stood on the door and looked around for Kabir, Ayesha caught hold of Tejas and pointed him towards the door. He saw me and I saw him looking at me. He turned away and eventually the message reached Kabir that his ‘girlfriend’ was waiting. I entered the class, placed the registers on the teacher’s table and left. I knew he would come.
The bell rang for recess as I was leaving the classroom. I waited for him at a distance and finally Kabir came in sight as I saw their class monitor locking the room.
“Hi! These are for Dev.” I said as I handed over the notes for that day to Kabir. “How is he by the way?” Kabir and I began walking and Kabir narrated how well Dev was doing and would probably join back in a few days. Though schools were to shut down in a week for the exam preparations
, Kabir was hopeful for Dev’s early return.
I was happy to return to my class after the recess with the knowledge that he was relieved and that no action had been taken so far for yesterday’s quarrel. Perhaps the school authorities were also aware that only a few days were left in this session now.
Again . . . I was too soon to count my blessings.
Near the end of the day, the news spread like wild fire. I was wary the whole day and this news came as a shock to me.
Apparently, there had been a huge theft in Kabir’s C section. Someone had left his watch in his bag and a bit of money too. They were found though on checking of the bags after recess, in Kabir’s bag.
A few students were in Principal’s office. Kabir was facing suspension. His parents were called. I was amazed at how skilled someone was in framing Kabir.
Kabir had been with me during recess and later in my library period. The theft must have happened during that time. Clearly he was being framed.
I decided to tell this detail to the Principal.
“What exactly was he doing in the library Riya?” Anjali asked me mockingly.
I looked at her.
“This is what the Principal will ask as well. Will you really tell her that Kabby was standing with you in the shadows holding hands . . . K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Anjali replied.
“Please, not you too. I face that jingle daily from so many people. Nevertheless, the truth must be told, he will be suspended otherwise.” I replied.
“Why is it that he is always where the trouble is?” Anjali thought out loud.
“What baffles me is who did this?” I asked. “Tejas?” Anjali contemplated.
“Perhaps . . .” I replied. I knew I did not have the time to dig out the culprit. All I had time for was to provide Kabir with an alibi.
“Wish me luck Anjali; this is the second time I’m going to save his skin!”
Anjali showed me a thumps-up sign and I headed for the Principal’s office lightly.
I entered her office and stood there, facing her, sweating a bit. I explained to her in the simplest and most compliant manner what had happened, leaving the details out. I told her that he was with our class in the library and so he was innocent.
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