“We shall be leaving this wonderland soon Kabby. Everywhere I look, I see our lives, from children of kindergarten to twelfth standard students. So much has been seen by these walls and windows that if they could speak, they would create history.” I know it was melodramatic but the moment of our last time together in school was too overbearing.
“These are OUR walls and windows Riya. They will forever remember us,” Kabir placed a hand on my shoulder.
We walked the road leading to our own senior building. We took a detour and went towards the basketball courts, past the chemistry and biology lab. The lamps were all alight and there was a dim glow from all of them. The February evening was cool and my sari was a bit too thin. I shivered a little and Kabir like a gentleman covered me with his warm black coat.
“That is such a movie like gesture!” I exclaimed.
“This is a movie like situation Madam.” He smiled.
It was then that I felt the bulge of a small object in his coat pocket.
“Kabir . . . what is in here?” I asked. I could make out that it was not his cell phone.
“Ah that . . . that my love is your birthday gift.” He spoke calmly, relishing every moment.
I knew he was enjoying all of this. I did not reply, just walked along with him. I could hear the banter of music behind, apparently the dances had begun.
“Don’t you want to see it?” Kabir asked.
“Ofcource I do. I was waiting for you to give it to me.” I said. We had reached the end of the road. There was a small shed there with just the roof and one back wall. It was initially used a few years ago for delivering lectures. Now it awaited us, it appeared.
After a long while, I was alone with him, far from the maddening crowd. I knew it was a special moment. When we stepped onto its floor, the view of the road with its numerous decorations was scintillating. Kabir stood next to me. I could feel his body pressing next to mine.
I had to get distracted . . . soon. This closeness was intoxicating me.
“I wonder which song is playing.” I moved a little away from him. “I think it is the jingle one . . .” Kabir said.
“Which is that?” I dare not turn back and look into those thirsty, love filled eyes of the man I loved so deeply.
“It’s called . . . Kabir and Riya . . . sitting under a tree . . . K-I-S-S . . . you do know the rest, Madam Curie.” He replied.
I turned back. He stood tall with his hands in his pockets looking passionately and intently at me. I was bewitched. In the dim lights of the party, his features were softened and more alluring. I could inhale his masculine perfume which the light breeze was ominously blowing in my direction. He was well built and had grown stronger and appealing in these last few months. He had an urbane and elegant look, the look that was driving me mad with passion and fervour for him.
I stood still, my heart beating aloud, when Kabir walked towards me . . . one meaningful step after the next. I knew my life was going to take the turn I had wanted it to for such a long time now. I knew we had waited far too much for this time.
I knew how I would remember each detail, for as long as I lived.
CHAPTER-39
We walked with grace and confidence towards me. I stood firm, without moving an inch but alert towards every tiny detail around me. I know there was a gentle breeze and that my hands were cold. I know the lights had begun to twinkle in distance as the evening bore on. I recall that as he walked towards me, I never wanted that moment to end.
Kabir stood inches away from me. I looked at his handsome face and he extended his hand encircling my waist. As his fingers touched my bare skin, an ocean of emotions weld up in me and I let out a tiny gasp.
He removed his hand and raised it to my face. It was then that I realized what he had removed from one of his coat pockets.
“Happy Birthday Riya dear, my flightless bird.” He looked at me smiling. I know, he knew what was running in that passionate mind of mine. There was a mischievous gleam in his beautiful brown eyes.
I smiled too at my own eagerness and anxiety and took the box from his hand. I opened it with slow delicate movements and saw a beautiful gold ring shining back at me.
I looked up shocked at Kabir’s very satisfied face.
“Kabir . . . is this . . . my god! Is this gold?” I saw the plain band with astonishment.
“Yes. I would not buy anything lesser for the girl I love so madly. Take it out, see it carefully.”
I did as he asked. It was then that I noticed there was something engraved on it.
Every breath, every moment, every day. Forever.
“That is so Lord of the Rings style!” I said and looked up into his eyes brimming with pure love, only for me.
He took it from my hands and slipped it on my finger.
“One day, Madam Curie, I will buy the biggest diamond and get it embedded on this for you, and that day I shall be the Lord of this ring . . . and the lady who will wear it.” Kabir said.
I looked speechless at what he had just said.
“I’ll wait then . . . It will never be off my finger for anyone else now.” I said looking at my ring. I knew the proposal was made and accepted. I took the last step closer to him, placing my hand on his chest. He drew his arms around me and we stood there gently swaying to the sound of the faint music that fell on our ears.
“We better go; they will be announcing the King and the Queen soon. The music seem to have stopped.” Kabir said after a few magical moments.
“No sir . . . I can still hear it.” I said.
Kabir looked up towards the auditorium and said, “Really . . . I can’t. What do you reckon they are playing now?”
“Oh . . . the very popular one. Kabir and Riya sitting under a tree; K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” I said.
Kabir stopped moving and looked at me. I smiled and whispered, “Complete the jingle . . . I love you Kabir Sharma.”
He looked at me smiling in the most contented, happy and love filled manner. He took my chin into his hands, bent down and gently touched my lips with his.
I felt nothing else after that, except the sheer pleasure which ran in my body. I kissed him back and his passion deepened. He tightened his hold on me and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
It was not that I had never wanted to kiss him before. There were numerous days when all I wanted was for him to kiss me like this. But I knew, once we did, there was no stopping us.
But today . . . the world stood still and I’m sure the angles from above watch with pleasure as Kabir and I found each other completely.
I kissed him again and again, for I knew this was not going to happen anytime soon. There was a difficult decision I had to make.
But today was our day. I was his girl . . . a girl who had loved him even before realizing it, a girl who had tried way too hard to resist him. A girl whose entire life flashed before her the moment he kissed her.
It was magical . . . just as a first kiss should be. He was soft and easy yet persistent and demanding. I was more than condescending.
The gathering was called to order. Everyone was seated in the beautiful auditorium. Final speech by the Principal was made. Anjali was on stage now, delivering the vote of thanks.
The moment to crown the King and Queen had come. Kabir and I were sitting together.
“Ladies and gentlemen, once again we stand at the junction where one bids adieu to their seniors. It has been a fantastic learning experience for us with all our fantastic, talented and dignified seniors. If I were to quote a few, then our school will never forget Tejas Ahluwalia and Kabir Sharma, for all their numerous fights, but more so for three consecutive years of championship. The honour that Ms. Anjali has earned by winning the scholarship will go down as the standard yardstick for excellence, aimed at all youngsters in ye
ars to come. No one can ever forget the art displayed by Ms. Surbhi or the sheer beauty of Ms. Ayesha, Jagriti, Manavi, Mamta and all my senior ladies. Each one is a gem we are proud of.
Following the tradition, we realized how difficult it is to be an ideal candidate for the King and Queen. The student, who claims these two most awaited awards in the entire school tenure, needs to have displayed academic as well as social efficiency. Someone who all of us are proud of, someone who has been persistent in efforts and victorious in more than one arena. That someone who has been our role model, a stalwart of goodness and righteousness; and will one day fly high the honoured flag of our school.
So . . . friends, teachers and seniors . . . the King for this year is none other than Mr. Girish Mendiratta and the Queen is our very own head girl, the beautiful, talented and graceful, Ms. Riya Sehgal.”
Anjali and Kabir were the first ones to leap up in the air! As I stood up to walk towards the stage, Anjali hugged me and shouted in my ears, ‘Congratulation! I knew it”.
I turned to look at Kabir who too hugged me, without inhibitions and whispered, “Am proud of you Madam Curie ... I really badly completely want to kiss you all over again.”
Riya recalled that moment on the stage. There was a huge bouquet handed over to her and a crown placed ceremoniously on her head. Numerous pictures were taken she kept looking at Kabir all the while as he stood clapping and cheering in the audience along with Surbhi, Dev, Anjali, Tejas, Ayesha, Joy, Ronit and everyone else.
Riya looked at the picture in front of her. Girish was looking in the camera. She . . . she was looking at him Riya followed her sight again after so many years, as she looked at her picture in the yearbook.
Somewhere at its end stood Kabir . . . the boy she loved, and still did.
KABIR
“Something has gotten hold of my heart,
Keeping my soul and senses apart.”
CHAPTER-1
It was a sunny day in Chicago. A good weather to sit outside and sip a hot steaming cup of coffee. I was doing just that. My work was over here and I was pleasantly being distracted by those two girls, sitting opposite me. Teenagers . . .
Giggling and flirting was not new, in fact I was still shaking off the memory of those lustful looks I got from the flight attendant on my way to this place. I was not surprised, I must admit, I did like it. At a well maintained 34 years, who wouldn’t?
The thought brought a smile to my face . . . and led those two girls to blush with vanity. Din’t Riya always say I had a killing smile!
Riya . . . now that name brought back memories I could never run away from. And I had tried . . . so hard that I was almost on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But that was 16 years ago when I was young and impulsive. When she had left me, it had devastated my world!
I felt a shiver run down my spine as the ghosts of my past made yet another attempt to enter my conscious. I knew the signspretty well now; I also knew how to keep them out. It had taken considerable practice, but I did master the skill of keeping those painful memories of Riya out of my mind. I would not survive otherwise. I had taught myself to go on, to look for other valuable things in my life. She remains an important part of my existence; nevertheless I can’t let those haunting memories, of school, block my days now.
“Would you like something more Sir?” asked a pleasant female voice. Kabir looked up to see the blossoming face of a young pretty waitress, clearly smitten.
“Thanks that will be all.” Kabir smiled at her. Nodding her head gently she walked passed him. He smiled inwardly thinking how easy it was to predict women . . . atleast most of the time. He was exceptionally gifted with pleasing manners and a chivalrous manner that swooned women! It had worked those years ago, and it still did. Except . . .
“Thank you . . .” Kabir said picking his credit card and stepping out into the sun, walking briskly on the street, hailing a cab to take him to the airport. But before that, one stop at the ladies handbags store. En route to the store a silly little flash from the past amused Kabir.
“Why do you keep your hair so long?” Ms. Ritika Kapoor, their maths teacher had asked him once.
“I think they look good on me ma’am . . . besides, my stylist is out of town.” Kabir had smiled at his maths teacher. He was in eleventh and had grown to understand that you earn much more by being in good books of the teachers than in all the world’s examinations. ‘And my girl loves to run her fingers through them!’ he thought to himself.
“Look Kabir, this is a school not a fashion house . . . get them cut.” Mrs Ritika Kapoor was now their class teacher. She was not very particular about styles, although she did dress up each day, in full makeup and her expensive saris to come flowing in the class like it was a kitty party. And yes, we liked it, no complaints from the guys. Who will not like a hot Mathematics teacher??
As Kabir got of the cab, in front of the shopping mall, he could not suppress a smile. Riya had loved his flicks. She had loved everything about him. He never recalled a single day, when she would have complained about his looks. And recalling how informal his looks were, he wondered at how he has changed now. Formal wear, cool shades of shirts, dark trousers and a smart crew cut. Now wouldn’t Mrs Ritika K. just love that! And he was quite sure Riya would be proud as well. Many years ago, she had said he would look good in anything as he was genetically gifted with a great combination of genes that not only made him physically a magnate but also extremely pleasing to the female eyes.
“Do you thing I look shabby . . . like a gangster?” Kabir had asked her as they sat on ‘their spot’ that day. Riya was busy making chemistry notes, and Kabir had his accountancy booked sprawled across his long, well built, toughened athletic legs.
“If you are referring to Bony Sir’s comment today, then the answer is no.” Riya had said not looking up from the brick thick refresher. How I hated those Pradeep publishers!
“So YOU think it’s ok?” Kabir spoke again. Getting Riya’s approval meant the world was still a pleasant place to live in for Kabir.
“Yes. I think you look amazing . . . though you could tuck in your shirt, and wear black shoes instead of these sports shoes every day. You know how girls drool over neat and smart army men.” Riya had looked up finally, to my pleasure and passed her mischievous smile.
Walking in the big Chicago mall, Kabir was amused at how easy it was for her to steer him. How much he wished she was here to steer him again ... his flightless bird. God! How much I love that girl!
His mind could never figure out if in all those years, what bothered him most was, his love for her or her absence from his life. Not a single day passed when Riya didn’t flood his mind, body and soul with her laughter, her touch, and her words. She was everywhere he looked . . . that flower vase reminded him of the day when he had broken one of hers, trying to escape her dad. That books section was what epitomised Riya . . . the book worm. And the elevators . . . god how can he ever forget that moment of pure joy in the elevators all those years ago.
“My god, the book store is on top floor; let’s take the lift Kabby . . .” Riya had said pulling my arm. We were in a shopping mall and it was with a disgruntled Anjali that I stood. Riya had come out on the pretext of shopping with Anjali, her best friend and now her alibi.
“NOWAY! I rather stand here with Anjali.” I had spoken giving Anjali a half hug, which she shrugged off immediately moving aside, towards the shoes counter and getting lost amid the long rows of shoes. Anjali had a ‘fetish’ for shoes, a new word added to my vocabulary by Riya that day.
“Really . . . well I am going and you have a good time with Anjali.” She knew I would follow. And I did. As we entered the elevator I made a sulking face and she smiled linking my arm with hers. I still recall the thrill her touch sent down my spine. Riya was not fashionable like many girls her age, but she had an ethereal beauty. Always simple yet so
tempting, I loved her more with her simple white satin blouse and a pair of blue jeans, than with anything else. She wore those hoops and they touched the curve of her neck so tenderly that I almost wished I could transfigure into one. A touch of lip gloss and a hint of the most tender yet tempting perfume and Riya was a pure divinity.
The elevators opened in front of us. As is the custom in India, people outside wanted to rush in first than allow those already in to step out. So after much push and pull and a series of ‘excuse me’ we both managed to get in. The elevator kept filling and I saw it was getting too stuffy for Riya . . . she hated clutter. You should have seen her school bag ... So as she looked desperately around at me I did what came most naturally to me.
‘Thank you god.’ Kabir thought picking up a hand bag at the mall. Chicago was a fine place to shop for one’s wife, thought he. As he paid for his purchase and stepped out to finally start for airport, Riya’s face that day in the elevator came rushing back to him.
“Riya . . . look at me.” I had said and then slipped over her walling the pushing crowd, by encapsulating her between my arms. I was tall, and she came completely in them, while I rested my hands on the arm rest of the wall of the elevator. We were a perfect fit. The crowd pushed at my back which I blocked, from her. This pushed me ominously close to her ... I could see the shyness in her eyes at being so close to me. I could study the minute details of her features, the mole on her cheek I so tenderly wished to kiss, the gentle flicking of her eyelashes in awe of our closeness, the thin smile dancing across her rosy lips and the sweet maddening shyness that was engulfing the girl I loved and drifting deep in my bones testing all my restrain and self-discipline which kept me from bending down and kissing her with all the love and desire I had for her. She must have read my mind and seen lust oozing out of my hardened breaths.
She was looking down clutching my shirt with one free hand as looking up would have brought our faces too intimately close to each other. My face was touching her bent head and I could smell the freshness of her hair. God that drove me crazy . . . being so near to her and yet feel miles between us. I am sure Riya knew what was going on in that love crazy mind of mine as she rested her head gently on my chest. Even through the fabric of her clothes, I could feel her heart beating. I knew it was fast as she was restraining her emotions as well. Riya would never, even in her dreams, publically display her emotions. Just to feel our hearts beat against each other drove a sense of pride and ownership in me. She was mine. I loved her, and I would hold her like this, in the cradle of my arms for our entire lives. But this need of kissing her, was overbearing at that moment. I had broken a feeble sweat on my forehead just imagining what it would do to me to feel her quivering lips against mine . . . just once.
Schoolmates Page 18