Schoolmates

by Latika Sharma

  “C’mon Vikram, there is no woman, who can make my heart go ...” I never finished my sentence, as Vikram pulled her to face me.

  “Here she is.... Meet Mr. Kabir Sharma... our financial advisor, the money man, the guy I kept telling you about.” Vikram looked from me to her.

  “And this pretty woman is Riya, my fiancee, the one I kept telling you about.” Vikram gently placed his arm around Riya’s shoulders.

  CHAPTER-5

  I don’t recall much after that. I know I had dreamt of her that night though.

  I got up the next morning, thinking of her. It was like the old days, when I would get a hangover and cry thinking of her and what went wrong between us. Soon after we had split, I had left for New York, to pursue my studies, as living in Delhi was impossible and my condition was so bad that my parents thought it best to send me away to live with my cousins for a while. Later I never felt like staying with my folks. My parents understood as there was little they could do to get me over my first love. My sister was a big support, but then, loneliness is not something that lifts with the sun the next day. It accompanies one like a shadow, and only that special radiance can make the shadow disappear.

  But today was different. I was happy and in a shock. Sometimes I wonder if a person can be both at the same time. I do not remember much of what Vikram said or how I responded, I guess it was all a conditioned response.

  It was not long; before the night’s events began flashing back in the morning, as I began to pour my juice and sat down to eat breakfast. She was in a sari, and that was striking as there was not a single woman except her who was not exposed for others to gaze at. Even when Manya came and stood next to me, I think I saw her properly for the first time that night. Though it had never occurred to me before that she had on an extremely small, off shoulder mini dress, it was hard to miss this blatant fact now as Manya stood talking to Riya.

  She had light makeup, as usual and her hair was open. I saw a thin gold chain in her neck with a pendant, which was hidden by her sari draped over her shoulder. She was holding a champagne flute in her hands, though I did not see a lipstick smudge on it, means she was not sipping from it. When we saw each other I think I saw her eyes flick in amazement and her hand shiver a little! I knew that shiver. I remembered the first time I had seen those hands shiver. I was holding them in mine.

  I must have looked spell bound as I heard Manya call out my name again.

  “Kabir! What’s wrong?” Manya was shaking my arm. I think I had stood staring at Riya far too long.

  “Is everything alright? You look as if you are in shock!” Manya looked from me to Riya and back at me and I detected a faint glint of curiosity in her eyes.

  “Yes doll, I am in a bit of a shock. You look lovely.” I replied smiling at her, fumbling at the word ‘doll’. I averted my gaze from

  Riya and pulled Manya aside, excusing us. I could not stand there in her presence any longer. I needed a drink badly.

  That whole night I kept sneaking looks at her. I couldn’t help it. Though I reminded myself of the pain and the heart ache I had suffered because of her and how I had vowed to never feel anything but hate for her, it was all proving to be a sham and crumbling under the consciousness that she was in the same room as me! I could feel her presence around me, so strong and so close. She was looking at me as well. I caught her turning her head one too many time.

  Sometimes she just passed by, and I saw her sari sway in air. I recalled that night of our farewell and how angelic Riya had looked. So humble, so vulnerable and so beautiful! I had a surge of protectiveness towards her then, and I caught myself many times from feeling that again tonight.

  I saw Vikram laugh with her, hold her arm lightly and lean close to her to mumble some smart one liner that was meant to impress her. She smiled, though she wasn’t paying attention. Hard as I had tried to forget, I still knew her moves and clearly saw she was looking over her shoulders for me.

  It was nearly mid night when I picked up a plate to fill. There was a long line and three people ahead of me; Riya was standing unaware that I had joined the queue. We filled our plates and then as she went to her seat, I followed her and sat down opposite to her. Our faces were finally in front of each other.

  “Hi. How are you” I asked softly.

  Riya looked soo openly at me and then looked around.

  “Don’t worry; I won’t be sitting here for long. Vikram is in the lobby, he told me to tell you he will come in another fifteen minutes. So . . . how have you been . . . Riya?” It was weird, speaking out her name after so long. I remembered those excruciating days when, all alone in my apartment, I would scream her name a hundred times, cursing her for tormenting me so gravely.

  She looked down, aware that I was staring at her. She was still and picked up her fork and began poking around her food. I saw her hands had begun to shake in their usual way.

  “Why are your hands shivering Riya? Is it because your plate is empty, as usual or because you are cold?” I said eating a piece of cottage cheese from my plate.

  Her head shot up and she looked at me. I knew my words had had the desired effect, so I kept my gaze down, pretending to relish my food. She must have looked at me for quite some time before I looked up and saw those eyes, looking at me again with the same emotions in them. She had grown more beautiful, but other than that nothing else had changed. She was still in love with me.

  And I’m sure she saw her reflection in my eyes too, as she quickly averted her gaze and picked up her glass of water. It was then that Vikram joined us.

  “Hey, sorry, something important came up. Where is Manya?” he sat down and picked up a piece of cucumber from Riya’splate and munched it down. She did not move, though I knew she must have hated it, she always did.

  “She must be there somewhere, she hates food.” I said jokingly, trying to make small talk.

  “Yeah! You are a lucky bloke, man . . . a woman who would not fuss over food and have a to-die-for figure. No offence, sweetheart.” He said touching Riya. She did not even look his way, just smiled.

  “Oh! She is fussy . . . all women are.” Kabir replied.

  “Even with you . . . the Casanova?” Vikram took another sip of his drink.

  At this Riya looked up, and our eyes met. I saw her eyes almost brimming with recollections of our past, and it broke my heart. I always loved to see my face in those eyes, not panic or pain.

  “Excuse me!” I finally heard her voice, as she got up from her seat and left.

  Vikram did not even notice that she had left, though my eyes followed her in the crowd. I suppose Vikram told me how he had met her and how fussy Riya’s dad had been when he had proposed marrying his girl. I smiled knowingly, as I really did know how Riya’s father was. I shook my consent that we hated her father, as it was the truth, I did hate him. And all the while I kept waiting for her to come back.

  She did eventually, but we never got to speak to each other again. Manya came and sat with us, and she and Vikram chatted the night off. Riya too, spoke keenly with Manya and on the outside, we were a picture perfect friend circle, laughing and chatting over dinner.

  I got up from my breakfast table. It was getting late. I had a final presentation over at the hotel and some decoration details to see. Then, I had to pick Manya’s dress from the cleaners and pay a few bills.

  And then, I had to dress up for another dinner. Only this time it was at Vikram’s home. He wanted to show me his wine collection. I was really keen to see his wine collection too . . .

  CHAPTER-6

  My mom always said I looked good in blue. My sister also had bought me many shades of blue. I too thought I was striking in blue. But tonight, I was wearing white. A simple white shirt with a black trouser. On my way to Vikram’s home I picked out a bunch of roses for her. I had decided I would at least be civil and sober
and not let her make me a sad person again. I was Kabir Sharma, the hottest kid from school and the most desirable bachelor in Delhi, or so Manya had said.

  “Hey, Kabir, welcome man . . . very punctual I must say. Riya’s dad would like you!” Vikram had extended his hand and we shook hands warmly.

  “I doubt that!” I had smiled at him.

  “Yeah! You’re right he probably won’t. It took me 3 months to persuade the old man. Riya . . . Kabir has come.” He called out her name and my heart skipped a beat in anticipation. I was thrilled at the thought of seeing her, of being in the same room as her and even speaking to her again! Hell I would kill for just hearing her voice, speaking to anyone!

  I shook my thoughts, reminding myself that I was not in twelfth and she was not mine any more. She was engaged, to Vikram, a great guy who maybe loved her! This wrenched my heart, I know, but I did not permit myself to realise it. I was being the hard stubborn basketball captain again.

  “These are for you!” She looked so tender and lovely in her white skirt and red top. I must have looked like a love stuck fool while handing her the roses.

  “Thanks . . . they are . . . beautiful!” Riya always looked at me like this whenever I had given her roses. Today was no different, though she tried to hide her eyes, but I had looked many hours in them, deep and with passion. I knew every emotion they hid.

  “What are you looking at Kabby?” We were standing behind the ‘infamous stairs’ and I had held Riya’s hand for quite some time now. It was a few weeks, after Riya’s dad had slapped me.

  “I was trying to see . . . actually, I was surprised that even my Madam Curie can fail at times!” I had leaned closer to Riya and was looking in her eyes.

  “What do you mean? Where did I fail?”

  “You say it really does not bother you, your dad finding about us, you say your love is eternal as is your trust in me. Then why do I see fear and pain in your beautiful eyes? Hmm . . .”

  “How can you say that? I am not scared, I guess maybe a bit shaken up after dad hit you, but I’m not sad or in pain,” Riya had protested in her sweet innocent manner. In the darkness of the area and warmth of our love her eyes shone with tears like ambers. It sent a helpless arrow of pain searing my heart. I could cry right there, for seeing her in pain was too much for me to bear. But never in front of her, she had needed my strength and the reassurance of my love for her.

  I had tightened my grip on her hand and said, “Liar! Only eyes speak the truth, neither the mirror nor the lips . . . a person who loves you can see the pain in your eyes, while everyone else still believes in your smile. I love you far too much . . . my flightless bird! You can’t lie to me!” I had wiped her tears with my uniform shirt’s white sleeve and without waiting for her to respond hugged her warmly.

  “Peach roses . . . a strange choice, usually people buy red roses!” Vikram remarked as Riya brought a flower vase, now filled with the flowers I had brought for her and put it on the centre table. She had not spoken a word since I had come nor looked at me, and frankly I was not enjoying this. I could not help the old me resurfacing back again.

  “Riya likes peach roses!” I declared casually sipping the scotch which Vikram had handed me moments ago.

  There was a minute of prolonged silence, when all things stopped. I looked at her and saw that look she gave me when I used to cheat in my class tests. I wanted to laugh out as I was enjoying being myself again after so long. I loved playing with her and then loved cooling her later.

  Vikram was obviously waiting for some explanation. Since Riya was too spell bound in anger, I said, “Did she not tell you wewere classmates? You are that mad at me Riya?” I looked directly at her.

  Riya just walked away.

  “Women!” I said. “Oh we had been classmates for four—five years, I think. We had a big fight and have not spoken since. I thought after all these years she would have realized we were just kids, back then, but I guess women are always grudging . . . something that I really can’t stand in them.” I had covered up my tracks and was hoping it would douse Vikram’s curiosity.

  “Well I agree with you on this point, man. Sometimes they can be so stubborn as well. But wow! You were in school with Riya? How was she? I mean she must have been really studious and fun to be with. Or was she stubborn? Tell me all about it.”

  “I really think that is not required Vikram,” Riya had finally spoken.

  “Kabir will say things you will find hard to believe.” She was serving us some appetizer and all I could think was how gently her hair fell across her shoulders.

  “Really!!” Vikram was in a playful mood.

  “You must tell me everything then Kabir!” He sat up with inquisitiveness.

  “Well . . . you were both right and wrong about Riya in school. She was indeed studious but not fun to be with . . . boring I would say. And yes, certainly stubborn. One of those book worms, lost forever in libraries and whose bags were filled with even those copies and notes which were not in a day’s time table. Her friend circle was also stubborn. Anjali, I think . . . that was her name, Riya’s fast friend. A high headed girl I would say, with ‘anger management’ problems.”

  “I was the interesting and fun loving one.” I had managed an air of superiority. I knew this would be driving her to the brink of her silence spell. And any minute, Madam Curie would burst out in reprimands.

  Well, I did not have to wait much longer, Riya jumped to Anjali’s defence, and her own too.

  “He is talking about Anjali right?” It was Vikram. He had a hearty laugh and I joined in.

  “Man! She is exactly as you say; I am scared of entering her office at times. You should see the edgy women in her office . . . she is a dynamite they say; even the gods would not know when she would explode. And the men folks . . . well I really pity them. But . . She and my lady here, well, stick through as glue! So I guess I really can’t do much about it since it dates back so long.” Vikram sipped his drink sensing Riya’s growing displeasure.

  “Anjali was the main reason I ever spoke to Kabir. She said he was a silly and undisciplined boy who hated books and studies. He was the kind to flirt with every girl. But I really felt he needed a helping hand in his life . . . he needed a lot of help actually! So I volunteered.” Riya said casually, andthen continued to my pleasure. I was enjoying the sound of her voice.

  “But Mr. Kabir was never studious. He made me feel guilty many times. Once I must have said to my friends that he was a ‘good looking fool’ or something like that . . . you should have seen how he stormed in the class and quarrelled with me . . . the only one who lent him notes and books! Yeah!! Anjali was right about him . . . most of the time though!” Riya got up and extended a salver filled with cashews in my face.

  “Have something Kabir . . . or do you still stay away from nuts for fear of a new pimple on your gorgeous face?” She was mocking me, and frankly, I was regretting my decision of bugging her . . . she was always better at it. But then this was Riya . . . better than me in many things.

  “What? Kabir don’t tell me you use to fear pimples in your school days?” Vikram was sure enjoying all this.

  “Ofcourse man . . . my girlfriends minded them more. You can understand . . . right?” I replied, trying to calm myself down.

  “Speaking of girlfriends, where is your girlfriend . . . Manya?” Riya asked. I noticed she fumbled at calling out her name.

  “Manya is at a photo shoot. She has just signed a new contract with some wrist watch company. She wanted to come though. I wanted her to meet you.” I replied looking straight at Riya.

  Our discussion went simple after that, I guess Riya was afraid of revealing too much in Vikram’s company and frankly, so was I. He was a nice man and what was past was history. There was no point in re-living what had brought so much pain and agony. So we declared truce, subtly, and ca
rried on with the dinner. Vikram had thankfully invited two more colleagues from work and soon we were busy in our separate groups.

  Oh! Yes. I did see a fine wine collection too. And Riya looked stunning in her white chiffon dress, with the red blouse.

  CHAPTER-7

  Manya had brought me a watch. It was from the same company for which she was a model now. Apparently it was the top of the list, most spoken of, and excruciatingly expensive one. I was supposed to love it, jump for joy and say how much she thought of me! How much she cared for me . . . maybe even how much she loved me.

  I said all that, as women like all this flossy stuff. I removed my old watch and put this new one on. It felt awkward. After ten years of wearing my watch, nothing seemed an equal to it.

  Ten years . . . had it been that long!

  “Kabby . . . coach is looking for you!” Dev called out from outside the boy’s lockers. I was in twelfth, and this May, one of us, Tejas or me, was going to be the new basketball captain of the team. We had both done all that we could, left no stone unturned, even stopped all quarrels and out-of-school fights. Anything that would tarnish our image and lead to rejection was shunned. A mutual understanding prevailed, just like we have with Pakistan, cease fire during winters at LOC. But . . . summer always follows.

  It was raining. ‘Unexpected’ I had said in the morning when I had met Riya outside her class as we were all heading back from the assembly which was suddenly engulfed by the unpredicted Delhi rain. ‘Weird’she had said.

  After I had asked her to speak plain English with me and she teased me about my deteriorating vocabulary, I said, “Riya . . . The coach will declare the captain today. I guess I’m a bit nervous.”

  She had held my rough hand in her silky smooth one and said, “Chill Kabby! He will select you!”

  “Have you seen Tejas? How sweet he has suddenly become, I actually saw him touch Ramanuj Sir’s feet the other day. And we had left Sanskrit way back in ninth grade.” Mr. Ramanuj was our senior Sanskrit teacher, a gem of a man.