Schoolmates

by Latika Sharma

  “Hmm. I see. Where exactly was he? I mean who was he seen with? I can call the librarian in as well for verification.” She looked intently at me.

  I knew the librarians had not seen him.

  “Ma’am . . . he was . . .” I hesitated. How could I be profane! “Yes . . . ?” she knew she had me trapped.

  “Ma’am . . . actually . . . he was . . . with . . . me!” I looked down at my shoes, glued with fear and self-consciousness.

  “Hmm. I find it hard to believe, yet, I will have to look into the matter. What were you two doing exactly, may I ask?” She was grilling me. I just could not furnish any further information.

  “Off you go now.” She let me go finally. I left looking contrite.

  Riya picked her books and pens and sat down on the plush sofa. She had a few notes to prepare. As she looked at the table in front of her, she recalled how the word about the theft had reached her parents as well. Kabir was not suspended and both his parents were only too thankful. Yet, her dad had heard warning bells for the first time.

  She remembered how tensed he had turned when she had accepted helping ‘that boy’. He had asked her to maintain distance and she had stood mutely listening. He had not known the whole truth back then.

  But he soon did . . . in two months’ time.

  A sigh escaped Riya as she unconsciously rubbed her chain. The tougher times were beginning.

  CHAPTER-29

  The farewell had been great! The seniors were thrilled by the efforts made by their juniors. The auditorium was lavishly decorated, thanks to the funding provided by the administrative staff and of cource, from Danish’s MLA father. Meenakshi was crowned the princess of the ball and Angad was the prince. There were numerous dances, drama acts and songs for everyone’s entertainment. The seniors were totally mesmerized on their official last day. Each teacher was gifted a special token by the outgoing batch. Feet were touched, tears were shed. The notice boards were alive with numerous pictures of our senior’s time well spent in school. Picture gallery had clips from their days in class first to class twelfth; Meenakshi in various ages, performing in school annual days, Angad playing ball, Danish standing for debates, and numerous others holding cups, medals or in their costumes. It was a sight to behold. This was Mamta’s and Jaya’s effort.

  The show stopper was however the dance in the end. There was a popular DJ invited this year and the tears were soon forgotten as the loud music medley engulfed all the students and some of our favourite teachers as well.

  I must have danced for hours with Kabir that night. And thankfully, Dev had managed to step in as well, he would not have miss this event for any sickness; bacterial or viral. Everyone was dressed richly. The girls flaunted bright luxurious sarees with all kinds of haughty, string strap, Nita Lulla and Tarun Tahiliani branded blouses. Most of them were totally exemplifying Femina Miss India models. The boys were in suits and sheerwanis.

  I too was dressed in a luxurious and impressive salwar kameez. My performances had not permitted me to dress up like Ayesha and her gang who looked like brides!

  Finally the schools closed after the farewell for the seniors and we juniors were lost in the exam preparations.

  Kabir had called me that day. He had a doubt in mathematics and wanted to meet me somewhere to clarify it.

  My dad had answered his call and then dejectedly called me over to take it. I saw the discomfort the name ‘Kabir’ caused him. I was guilty; I knew he did not appreciate my friendship with Kabir at any level, even if it was academic, as this is what he thought it was. Just a simple friendship.

  I was fearful of the day he would realize that the name ‘Kabir’ was now so much a part of me that there was no ‘Riya’ without it.

  I knew I had to ask Kabir to stop calling me frequently. So I decided to tell him that today evening when he would meet me after my tuition classes and we would stroll in the society park. We did this quite frequently. I always managed a few minutes with him in the cool shades of the trees, sitting on the benches.

  “Your old man really has no clue ‘Who’ I am?” Kabir was walking besides me.

  “Well . . . he has gathered information about you. So he knows what all you’ve done. That is not what I was hoping for him to know about you.” I replied.

  “So, if he found out, situation would be bad . . . for you?” He asked.

  “Yes, definitely. That’s why you should refrain from calling me so repeatedly now.” I spoke, as calmly as I could.

  “Hmm.” Was all he said. I knew he was struggling with this information.

  “You will at least come to Anjali’s home tomorrow right?” he asked suddenly.

  We had planned this outing a few weeks before the farewell. He had planned to take me on a ride somewhere from Anjali’s house.

  “Yes. But that would perhaps be the last one this year before the schools re-open.” I replied, happy that I was giving not just the tough news to Kabir.

  ‘Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled a little. The evening sun was descending on that cool March evening and I was to head back home soon. As if he had read my thoughts, he slipped his hand in mine and held them tightly as we walked the last stretch.

  My dad was a bit weary the day before I left for Anjali’s house. I stayed at her house for an hour and then she walked me to where Kabir was waiting.

  “You know, this is not right . . . it is almost deception!” Anjali said. Nothing had changed her reaction to seeing me and the lover boy together, as she often called him now.

  I was silent. What could I say? I knew she was right. I ought to confront my parents, but I knew they will never try understanding. My mom, maybe, but never my dad. He had already made up his mind about Kabir and I knew him well, once a bad egg always a bad egg, was his firm opinion. The tough army discipline had attuned him to certain things and he was very concrete in his views.

  “Hi . . .” Kabir’s eyes lit up when he saw me. “Hi . . .” I smiled back.

  “Thanks Anjali.” He said smiling his most grateful smile towards her.

  “Whatever!” Anjali rolled her eyes and walked off.

  I smiled after her. I knew I was blessed to have her, and so was Kabir. We drove off on his bike. He took me to a very popular discotheque whose owner was one of Dev’s friends. So we managed free passes despite the heavy season booking.

  I was completely enthralled and ensnared by the glitz and setting of the electrifying ambience of the room. The floor was covered with people, all grooving to their heart’s extent. The music wasloud and yet energizing oddly. I never knew I would actually enjoy something so non-academic. There was a fine odour of vanilla and lemon in the air. There was no smoking allowed inside so the air was clean. The lights were dim and I was on top of the world.

  “So? You like it?” Kabir made me sit in one of the corner booths and sat down opposite to me.

  “Yes . . . immensely!” My eyes were sparkling with joy and excitement.

  “Like to drink something?” he asked.

  “Sure. What do they have?” I looked around for a menu.

  Kabir laughed at my naivety and said he would be back with something appropriate. I sat there feeling like the luckiest girl on earth. I had always imagined how it would be to actually be inside a disco! There was always so much hype created by everyone. It was usually associated with drunken miscreants. This was so wrong a theme that I practically wished for Anjali and the others to join us the next time.

  Kabir returned with two glasses with something blue in them. “What is this?” I wondered out loud.

  “It’s a mock tail! Don’t worry. Its non-alcoholic, Madam Curie!” he winked at me and I smiled back wondering when and how had he started reading my thoughts. Edward Cullen!

  “Want to dance?” he asked soon after. Our drinks were over and I had become ve
ry comfortable with the surroundings. A few of

  Kabir’s old friends had stopped by and wished us and then left. It was going great and I was waiting for Kabir to ask for dance.

  He extended his hand and I sprang to my feet, leaving my buff jacket at the bar. We danced for as long as I remembered. There, with him, my life seemed so full of everything that I forgot we were just school kids. I had never had so much excitement in a single day. Kabir was a happy soul and it was not difficult to see that he emanated that joy everywhere he went. There were a few people there he knew, from his gym and sports club. I met them and they all knew me. I was a bit self-conscious but none of them was the miscreant types, I realized it was me who was prejudiced.

  Later as we were about to leave the dance floor, Kabir pul led me closer and said, “One last dance, a very special one, for the special girl in my life . . .”

  I did not refuse. Suddenly the loud music dimmed down and a soft one covered the room. I saw many couples dancing to the slow tune, entwined with one another. I knew I was blushing the brightest shade of burgundy when he placed his arms around my waist and gently slipped close to me. I placed my quivering palms on his chest and felt the soft fabric of his blue shirt.

  The music was therapeutic, if I may say so. In a moment it transformed the entire atmosphere to a soothing romantic one. I realized after a while which tune it was and looked up amazed at Kabir.

  “Remember?” he asked looking down at me from his tall muscular frame.

  Brian Adam’s ‘Everything I do, I do it for you’ filled the air with its love and passion. I recalled our picnic and how Kabir had caught me when I fell into his arms.

  I rested my head on his chest and whispered, “Thank you Kabir . . . Thank you for a great day. I mean it. I will never forget this, ever!”

  As we saw into each other’s love struck eyes, it never occurred to me that my cell phone had registered seven missed calls. It was in my jacket pocket. When I opened them, I saw a few from my dad and most from Anjali.

  That was when I knew something was terribly wrong.

  “Kabby, we must go, now!” I looked at him with the phone in my hand. The music that had flooded my soul had suddenly turned me deaf. I went cold with the fear of unknown. My body was trembling and Kabir literally had to hold me with both hands to prevent me from going down. I knew, something was terribly wrong! My father’s face came into my mind and jolted me back into the real world. I showed him the seven missed calls. He looked at me and nodded

  Surprisingly again, I did not need to elaborate further. Kabir had indeed begun reading my thoughts.

  CHAPTER-30

  “Anjali . . . there is a call for you. It’s Riya,” Anjali’s mom called her thirteen year old daughter.

  Anjali had ran and picked up the phone.

  “Hi . . . you are late!” a bubbly cherubic thirteen year old girl’s voice resonated in her house.

  “Sorry Anjali. My homework took time. So . . . did you read the Nancy Drew I gave? Isn’t it better than the last one we read?” I had asked.

  “Oh Yes! It’s far better. But, I knew who the thief was before I read the climax.” Anjali spoke confidently as always.

  “Ofcource you did . . . you always do.” Riya had said happy to let her sweet friend bask in her glory.

  “So, did you get your dad to sign the Science test paper?” Anjali asked.

  “Yes . . . boy, he was angry at my poor score. What about you?” Riya had asked.

  “Not yet. But I will get the picnic form signed before the test paper. I know my dad, even though he is softer than mom, he is strict with me, you can’t guess!” Anjali spoke in a below audiblevoice.

  “Well . . . Anjali, one thing I will tell you for sure. Your dad is nothing when it comes to anger and sternness, compared to mine!”

  “Really? Is your father so authoritarian? Man . . . That’s scary” Anjali had said... four years ago.

  “Anjali . . . there is a call for you. It’s . . . Riya” Anjali’s mom called out to her seventeen year old daughter who had awaited this one for a while now.

  Anjali ran and picked up the phone.

  “Hi . . . You are late.” Anjali spoke today, in a rare, defeated tone.

  “Anjali . . . what happened?” I could make out the despondency in her voice. As Kabir drove amid the traffic, I sat behind him holding the cell phone and hearing every emotion Anjali was displaying.

  “Your dad . . . he called ...and . . . He found out.”

  I went white with fear. The free hand with which I was grabbing Kabir went limp. He realized it and after a while stopped the bike.

  “Riya, he called me after you left. He knew something was amiss. I’m sorry, but I could not lie to him . . . I had to tell him where you were and . . . with whom!” Anjali was almost choked.

  “It’s all right. I’m going home now.” I replied.

  As I switched the cell off, Kabir looked at me and said, “I’ll speak to your father.”

  This was the first time he had not called my dad ‘old man’.

  “No use Kabir. He won’t listen. I know him, he would be enraged! You better drop me home and go.” I had turned cold with fear and worry.

  “What? No way . . . I am not abandoning you in a situation like this. You need me. We are in this together; I too am guilty of whatever he thinks we did wrong! I’m never leaving you alone . . .” Kabir took my face into his hands and a tear slipped out of my eye. He gently hugged me and we drove on to reach my house.

  It was evening and the sun had just touched the horizon. My porch lights were on. I was shaking when I walked towards my own house. Kabir was holding my hand and supporting me lest, I should fall. I stood outside my door. I did not have the courage to ring the bell. Kabir rang it for me.

  My mom opened the door. She had a stiff expression on her face. She looked at Kabir and then at me. I stood shaking behind Kabir’s tall figure.

  “Come in.” She stepped aside and we walked into the sitting area. My father was standing near the tall windows. As he turnedto look at me, he was taken aback by what he saw. He never expected Kabir to show his face so audaciously.

  “I see. So this is what you went to Anjali’s house for? This is what we get for trusting our child. Look . . . look at my daughter . . . how proud I feel today knowing that she is roaming the streets behind some boy’s bike! Is this the character we built in you? This is what I deserve . . . a dishonest child?” My father was so angry that my mom had to step closer and hold his frame.

  I was glued to my spot. Kabir could feel my shaking figure shrinking behind him. He knew I was so frightened and shocked that even tears would not weld up anymore.

  “Sir, please . . . I took her. She is innocent. It’s my fault completely. Please don’t be angry with Riya!” Kabir spoke after a few minutes of cruel silence.

  Frankly, I was too numb to hear everything he said. But I was surprised by his grit and boldness. It would have taken a lot to face a man who was ready to rip you apart for sneaking his daughter from under his watchful eye.

  “SHUT UP, you piece of crap and get out of my house! How dare you step in here? I know about you . . . shameless and spoilt brat, your parents are doomed to have a son like you who cares nothing for their reputation or his.” My father was acrid.

  Despite this tart response from him, Kabir retained his calm.

  “I’m sorry sir. But don’t misunderstand me . . . I would never hurt Riya or her reputation. I care far too much for her and . . .” Kabir did not get to finish his statement.

  “QUIET! Get out of my house and my daughter’s life you scoundrel. Boys like you ruin anything you touch! I can’t blame you alone as my own flesh and blood is involved in this mess. I am ashamed to say that she is my daughter . . . how openly you lied to us Riya! And even now . . . you stand by this u
seless character. Get inside . . .” Dad shouted at me and I jerked in surprise and terror. I could not move.

  “Din’t you hear me Riya? Move I said,” Dad came closer and pulled me forcefully by my arm. His fingers dug deep into my flesh and I let out a tiny yelp of pain. Kabir held my father’s dragging hand in a reflex and spoke, “Don’t hurt her . . . Sir.”

  I could hear his own anger and threat in his voice. So did dad. He was in the Army and an army man knew where the fight was heading. Insubordination was unheard of in my house.

  “How dare you? You think I will let you insult me in my own home!” Dad was shouting at Kabir. “You think YOU will teach me how to handle my own child now! You stupid, good-for-nothing boy! Get out of here before I do something we will both regret.”

  Kabir looked at my father in the eye. Then he looked at my tiny frame. I was pleading for him to go. I knew it was a matter of few minutes before my father lost his self-control.

  “I’ll go sir, sure. But . . . please, don’t hurt Riya.” Kabir said.

  “Stop pretending boy . . . I know what boys like you think and want. And to think my own daughter went ahead with it . . . !” My father took a step closer to him.

  Kabir looked at him without batting an eye. I saw him gulp in his anger.

  “No sir. You have me wrong. I respect Riya tremendously. And I care for her just as much. She has done nothing . . . like what you think.” Kabir had guts to say things like that in such an intense situation.

  “Really . . . now I have you to believe. And why will I do that, tell me? Why in this world should I believe you?” my father asked.

  “Because, her reputation is mine as well . . . I love her.” Kabir said it out loud. My mom looked bewildered and I was flabbergasted.

  In seconds, equating to eternity, my father raised his hand and. . . SMACK! He slapped Kabir on his face.

  “GET OUT NOW!!” he spoke with clenched teeth.