Schoolmates

by Latika Sharma

  “Now . . . hell, don’t cry!” he said pulling me close.

  I fell into his arms regretting my poor treatment. He held me tightly wiping my tears away.

  “I’m sorry Kabby . . .” was all I could say and stood there enclosed in the comfort of his embrace. Any girl would give her entire life to feel what I felt that day.

  I think we must have stood there for a while and then I sat him down and looked in his eyes. I knew the walls of the room were drawing in on us and the desire to kiss him was over powering. I looked away and he understood my dilemma.

  Never in my entire life had I found the need to fight such a tumultuous battle with my own self. I was so drawn to him that day that it frightened me.

  “You better go now.” I said finally.

  “Why?” there was a playful mischievous tone in his voice. It was sensuous and warm.

  Before I could reply, we heard the front door open!

  I looked at him in terror, my heart beats accelerating suddenly as the adrenaline did its job.

  Kabir got up swiftly and motioned me to remain silent and calm. As he leaped towards the window, his feet hit the flower vase kept on my bedside table. It crashed making an awfully loud noise in my silent house.

  “Go . . . quick!” I prayed that he jumped out before dad arrived; I knew he would come running hearing the sound of the crash.

  As soon as the last glimpse of Kabir disappeared, my father and mother entered the room and saw the shards of glass sprawled on the floor.

  “I rushed, panicked . . . when you opened the door. Sorry!” I said and bent down to pick up the pieces.

  “NO! Don’t touch them!” my father spoke out loudly. “It is your exam time; you may cut your hand accidently. Go . . . I’ll clean it up.” And without waiting for my mom to say anything either, he bent down and began cleaning up the glass.

  I felt bad that dad loved me soo very much yet could not understand how deeply connected I was with Kabir. As I lied down to sleep that night, I recalled what all Kabir had said and all that had happened so far in our lives.

  I was aware that things were changing. I was more concerned with myself and not with what Kabir felt. He was lost without me. That had begun bothering me now. I never wanted him to be that dependent on me or anyone else too.

  He had to grow up and realize that the real world was not in our school. My mom had been correct. I can succeed without assistance but Kabby can’t. Not as long as I was around. My presence won’t let him look anywhere else. My absence would create havoc in his life too.

  I loved him far too much to cause him so much damage.

  I knew sleep would never ever come to me now, as the decision was almost made.

  I had a month.

  CHAPTER-37

  It was February, our final month in school. We would soon pass out and the idea that a huge sea of opportunities awaited us had finally begun taking root. In me, it was a big tree already.

  The school had given us preparatory leave. We still came often to clarify doubts and spend the last few days with our beloved teachers. There was an odd feeling in the air.

  I met Ramanuj Sir on stairs one cool morning. He was carrying loads of Sanskrit notebooks and I took few from him instantly.

  “Bless you child . . . I hope we have more like you in the years to come.” He patted me on my head.

  I was speechless today. I had received such blessings for twelve glorious years but these last few days were the most touching.

  “Mr. Kabir . . . how come you are here?” Bony sir asked Kabir one day.

  “I was looking for you Sir.” Kabir said. Then without hesitation he bent down and touched bony sir’s feet.

  “Leaving us? Well . . . God bless you son. You turned out to be a fine young man finally.” Bony sir hugged Kabir and the years of scolding and reprimands washed away.

  Next week was our farewell.

  “Kabir . . . there is something I want to discuss with you!” I said after the mock tests were finally over. I knew I had done well, despite the fact that I only did sixty five per cent of all my papers which was intentional, to not reveal one’s real preparation.

  “I too have something important.” Kabir held my cold hands and warmed them.

  “Listen carefully Kabir. We need to both make a life for ourselves. My whole life has been dedicated to studies and my aim is to become a doctor. I think even you have made some plan for yourself by now. I’m sure your relatives in Chicago would help you and sponsor you for further studies, but Kabir . . . one must make it in this world on one’s own grit and hard work. You need to focus now.” I was trying to explain it as easily as I could. Kabir was hearing me, but I knew he was not listening.

  “I agree with you Riya. That is why I refused to go to Chicago.” He smiled at me.

  I was taken aback. I had not expected him to toss away an opportunity so easily.

  “But why Kabir?” I enquired.

  “Because I can’t leave you and go . . . I will find something here.” He replied.

  “Kabir that was a much better opportunity! I’m not saying you can’t make it in India, but why close that window of chance?” I was realizing that he was so enmeshed in my world that now it was hampering his entire existence.

  “I told you. I need to see you Riya. To know you are there. You clear your exams and I too will find admission in some college.”

  I went silent. This was worse than I had imagined. I knew I had lost. I went home that day, a very worried person indeed.

  “Riya . . . are you ready?” Anjali was in my house. We were to go shop for our farewell sarees.

  “Yes.” I said as I climbed down the stairs.

  “What is wrong? You have been odd this last week.” Anjali was always quick to pick up my forlorn morose moods.

  “Nothing.” I lied. She did not probe much, a quality I honestly loved about her. She was to leave for UK in July, and I was already missing her. So I made it a point to spend quality time with her as much as possible.

  We took an auto rickshaw and headed for the biggest mall in town. There were many branded show rooms there and I had planned to see each one on the pretext of buying the correct sari. Anjali was not that eager. All she wanted was a sari, any would have done. She never bothered about her attire, though I had to admit, the lesser she paid attention to it, the more gods decided to sharpen her feminine features. She was slim and agile with a very distinguished look. Last month she got glasses as her distant vision was affected by all the excessive reading she did. She carried even that with so much panache that I sincerely believed the Bausch and Lomb guys would have signed her for their commercials. I knew what I wanted, so we spent lesser time in buying the sarees and more time in other shops buying shoes, candy and bags.

  After our shopping was over we had lunch and again she enquired why I looked so lost. I had no answer. How could I tell her that she had been right? That Kabir was wasting away his life in being around me, not being something for him. How should I tell her that my mom was correct all along that I may succeed while he will surely fail in the examination of life! That despite my best efforts all I could teach him was to clear formatives and summative papers!

  “Cheer up! It’s our farewell now! Recall how we had all put in soo much effort last year? I’m eager to see what Ayesha wears this time! Remember her deep cut blouse last year . . . how that was the show stopper!” Anjali tried to put some cheer in me.

  I smiled despite my blue mood. Ayesha did turn ALL heads last year. It would be a sight to see her this year. I’m sure she had extorted huge chunks of cash from her father to buy the costliest designer sari. It was her belief that unbranded things were worthless and that she must be the belle of EVERY event.

  “She would dress like a queen along with Jaya and Manavi.” I said sipping my t
ea.

  “But she won’t be crowned The Queen . . . you will be, our Head girl!” Anjali spoke excitedly. I was touched how easy it was for her to associate my victory with her achievement. She had the purest soul.

  “And Rahul will be The King then?” I teased her.

  “How should I know? As if I care . . .” she looked away. I knew she liked him, but not in a way I liked Kabir. Maybe in time . . . they may click, but not yet.

  I had been having difficulty in sleeping for a few days. Maybe I was stressed. I had not met Kabir after our discussion on the last working day for seniors, in school. I would see him again on the farewell day itself.

  I had spent my time studying for medical entrance and filling up its forms. Time flew by. I did not realize it was my eighteenth birthday tomorrow.

  At midnight the first call I got was from Anjali, who spoke to me for a while and then transferred her call to Kabir. Any other way would have revealed him to my parents.

  “Happy birthday my love . . .” he said.

  “Thanks.” I smiled. We spoke briefly and he said he would give me my gift on the farewell day.

  “That’s not needed; you know I don’t care for such baubles.” I replied.

  “I know my flightless bird. But . . . you too know a few things about me now.” I knew he was a stubborn determined basketball captain who did what he decided once. Besides, I knew Kabby loved giving me gifts. It was I who had refused on numerous occasions the luxurious things he managed to buy for me after saving all his cash. I loved his gestures and deep concern for me. But, I was scared lest my parents saw those things. So Kabby gave me small stuff like books, pens, chocolates and a rose occasionally. I had all the thirty nine he gave, pressed and preserved in my old books.

  As I dressed for the party the next day, I was filled with bittersweet memories of my life spent with Kabir. I loved him so much that I would sacrifice everything to see him succeed. I knew his love for me ran deeper.

  Dad drove me to the school that evening.

  “Take care my dearest, and message me once when you are ready to leave. I’ll come and pick you from right here.” Dad said looking lovingly at me.

  “Thanks dad.” I smiled. It had been a while since my father and I had settled our score. Things were better . . . at least for a few more days.

  As Riya drifted into sweet sleep thinking about her husband and the long vacation he planned to take after his return from work, she dreamt about her farewell . . . the day Kabir finished the jingle, the day which finished everything.

  CHAPTER-38

  The farewell party was a huge affair. It was also a costly affair. The school provided a set amount along with the decorators and caterers. But what would be cooked and how the lay out would be was left to the juniors. There was always a theme decided. This year was “ The Royal grace of Rajasthan.”

  I must admit, when dad left and I turned to enter the nostalgic school gates in my simple plain orange sari, I was stunned by the sight that greeted me. There were elephants on the gates showering marigold and rose petal on all the guests. The entire drive way leading to the auditorium was shining with lights and garlands of flower. The red carpet had earthen lamps, lightening the path. Our juniors were all dressed in red and saffron traditional Lehengas and typical, Rajasthani jewellery.

  The auditorium was also decorated in Rajasthani grandeur and splendour. The seats were traditional king style and there were floating flowers in the middle of each table. Instead of balloons, there were flower garland decorating the roof and the walls. Drinks were being served in traditional glasses and there was a light scent in the air.

  There was the familiar sound of bangles and anklets mixed with lounge music and it filled my memory with all that had happened last year.

  I stood on the entrance where my juniors greeted me with bowed hands and a splash of rose water. The boys were also offered a tiny smear of Kumkum (saffron) on their forehead.

  I entered in the auditorium and stood there looking around for familiar faces. I saw Anjali walking towards me. She was looking so different and gorgeous today that for a second I was spell bound by her natural effluent beauty. Her cream and beaded sari flew after her quick steps and her hair flew like water. I saw every boy turn with amazement as she walked past them, without her realizing it ofcourse.

  “Anjali!! By heavens you are looking killing today!” I held out my arms and shared a warm hug with my best friend.

  “C’mon . . . look at yourself. You look like a Rajasthani princess Madam. I love your bangles and earrings. And just look at your hair . . .” she turned me around.

  I had gone for a haircut and my stylist suggested I get a bun made instead. She said it highlighted my slender neck. I agreed as I was a bit keen to see how a bun would look like on someone who had spent her complete life till then in a pony-tail.

  It was then that Kabir spotted me, I guess. And it was precisely at that point that I knew he was watching me. I saw past Anjali’s shoulders and there he was. Standing tall and handsome by the water fountains with Dev. Kabir was dressed simply. He wore a white full sleeves shirt with straight cut black trousers and a fabulous dinner jacket. He looked every bit the Casanova I had called him my whole life.

  Anjali followed my gaze and said after a while.

  “You know, he has enquired about you like five times . . .”

  I did not utter a word. All I did was look at him. There were numerous expressions on his sweet innocent face. But the most obvious one was love . . . so much so that Anjali too admitted that he looked ‘better’ today than most days and that I should go and meet him finally!

  As I took my steps closer to him I saw he wasn’t even winking. He just stood there, mesmerized and love struck.

  “Hi.” I said as I stood still in front of him, a bit shy of his passionate gaze.

  “Hi. You look amazing!” he spoke softly. I knew he had been waiting for me. He held out his hand and I took it coyly. It felt great to stand next to him. I saw Dev looking nonstop at the entrance. He was awaiting the appearance of his girl, Surbhi. She was to come a few minutes late as she was held up in traffic, Kabir whispered in my ears. And Dev had been in sheer trauma ever since the knowledge seeped into him.

  I smiled and nodded my head. I knew a thing or two about the aches of the heart. Kabir placed a hand on my shoulder and we stood there watching each other as if there was no one else surrounding us.

  Finally, Surbhi arrived and Dev’s face broke out into a shy grin replacing the agony and anticipation. He left us alone and that is when Kabir spoke to me.

  “Riya . . . you do realize how beautiful you look in this sari! There are numerous girls here. But none compares to the enchanting goddess that stands before me. Even in such a simple plain sari, you look like an angel of love and beauty . . . I think I’m falling in love, all over again with you. What wouldn’t I do to spend my life in this bliss with you always by my side . . . my guide, my friend, my flightless bird, my love . . . the one I love madly.”

  I looked down and gulped in air. His words rang with candour and rage for me. I was so much in love with Kabir that all I ever wanted at that moment was to be totally alone with him. The words he said so simply had such a colossal effect; I suddenly felt as if the cold wind had been supplanted by a soothing, restful and gentle breeze and that I was indeed looking the prettiest of all.

  Strange, what a little compliment from that one person can do.

  Soon the proceedings of the party began. The speeches were made one by one. Then came the most awaited moment, the distribution of titles.

  Ayesha was titled, ‘Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all . . . Ms. Ayesha Kulshreshta.’

  Anjali was next. Her title was aptly, ‘Studious, audacious and meritorious, she has them all in her bag of accolades! Do not cross her, her wits and ann
otations are sharper than a razor blade’

  Kabir came next. ‘Fire in his feet and thunder in his style, he is the charmer, the king of hearts, who triumphs in all trials . . . Mr. Kabir Sharma.’

  I was so proud of how well the juniors had summarized our qualities and presented them to all of us. There were many claps and encore as Kabir went up the stage to collect his title. He looked so dashing up there that Anjali too smiled from the audiences and I saw that without her knowing it.

  I was next. I knew my title would be something which exemplified my academic achievements.

  ‘And ladies and gentlemen, here is our favourite next title. Excellence is her virtue, knowledge as sharp as darts; she has been number one and the one queen of our king’s heart . . . Ms. Riya Sehgal!’

  As I got up to move towards the stage, Kabir suddenly stood with me. He held my hand and escorted me till the steps of the stage, amid a loud chorus of hoots and whistles. He was waiting as I stepped down and extended his hand. I lightly placed mine in his and walked with him fearless of what anyone thought of me that day. I was with him . . .

  The next round of title decoration was to begin after the cultural events break. The dance items were presented along with the musical ones.

  Dev also got a fantastic title, ‘It takes a lot to be a true friend. Loyalty, selflessness, sacrifice and grit; something we all wish for but get on by our karma . . . If ever there was a synonym created for such a friend, it would be Dev Verma.’

  The food was served and everyone got engaged in general bonhomie and chattering. There was arrangement for sitting outside as well where luxurious gazebos were installed this year with rich cushions and traditional chairs. There was also a special one for photographs to be taken.

  “Kabir let us go outside for a while,” I said.

  “Sure,” Kabir followed me outside.