Authors: Latika Sharma
“I will have to report the i-pad Dev!” I spoke again, hoping to catch his attention.
“OK . . . just one minute, wait . . .” And he was still engrossed in the latest version of angry birds.
I simply nodded my head and looked around for Kabir again. Where was this boy?
I was about to board my bus now. It was time. I still looked around for him surprisingly, I had become accustomed to our farewell at the school gates and today I felt a bit restless. I had to see him once.
“Hi . . . let me carry that, give it!” Kabir suddenly came up from behind and stood next to me, panting. He extended his hand and picked up my school bag.
“Where were you? I was missing . . . I mean, I was looking for you.” “I was a little occupied, that’s all, and I missed you too doll.” He smiled and came close to me as if he would land a peck on my cheeks. I shifted away, fearful if someone saw his move.
“What are you doing? And don’t call me doll.” I spoke looking around frantically.
“Hmm . . . I missed you too . . . come closer.” He held my hand with his free one and gently began pulling me closer.
“Kabby, there are people around, you silly boy, leave my hand!!” I was shocked at his audacity, not that I minded it. I was way too happy to notice that Meenakshi had seen, Ayesha was fuming and Dev was just giggling away.
“I’m loving the person I care for the most. Let the others see then, it really doesn’t matter to me.” Kabir had swung my bag on his shoulders and was standing too close now for anyone to avoid looking at us. The younger lot was smiling as was the guards and the bus conductors.
“You want to give them a show, do it on stage. Don’t embarrass me publically like this, let me go.” I was a bit angry now. He had taken this beyond my imagination. I was sure someone would tell my dad now.
Quickly, I boarded the bus, with Kabir behind me and a dozen eyes following us. I sat down with a slump and he placed my bag next to me. “Will miss you, my flightless bird, you look so sweet when you are mad at me . . .”
I looked at him to say something stiff but the look he was giving me was breathtaking. I never realized what an enchanting effect he had on me. I wanted to scold him, quarrel with him yet all I did was say, “Ok... Bye.”
He left me sitting there feeling uneasy. I never realized how madly I had fallen for him until then. It was not in my nature to get distracted, yet that night, I found it difficult to complete my chemistry assignment. Kabir kept infiltrating my molecules and equations . . .
It was the first of many nights, when I thought of Kabir as I switched off the bed side lamp.
“R
iya . . . MY GOD . . . Look at this!” Anjali was screaming !\ loudly even before I entered the class room. She wasalways early to school; she played table tennis in the mornings. And I was on time so she was there inside before and definitely something big had caught her attention.
“What?” I fastened my pace. As I was about to enter my class, I heard Geetanjali call me with the same tone from the adjoining classroom.
“Riya!! You are here? Did you read this? Come in here . . .” Geetanjali was also a prefect. She was from the humanities section.
“Wait . . . I . . . OK!” I was confused where to head for first. As I entered Geetanjali’s class, what I read on the black board left me speechless. I din’t know what I read.
“My true love has my heart, and I have hers, By just exchange, one for the other given I hold hers dear, and mine she cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven.
Her heart, her wounds have not escaped from my sight, My heart was wounded with her true heart, For it was from me on her this hurt did light, So still I thought it is me that in her heart she suffers. Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss: My true love hath my heart and I have hers.”
My name was written atop, not exactly my name . . . the words were indicative though, Flightless bird... . And obviously, almost everyone knew who that was!
“Who wrote this?” Geetanjali asked me.
I stood there dumbfounded. There was a crowd around me now, since all students had started filling in the room.
“What is this?” Jagriti asked. I knew poetry when I saw it, yet my mind was frozen.
“It’s by Sir Philip Sydney . . .” Anjali spoke confidently. Everyone looked at her, expecting her to be ready with all the answers. She looked at me and said, “You better read what is written on the blackboards of all the rooms on this floor Riya, someone has taken care to make sure everyone knows that HE cares only for you!” Anjali knew I would understand her cue, as did most of the others. When I left that room, an entire sea of students was following me.
“Riya, come to my class first . . .”
“No come to ours first, it’s just next doors . . .”
I did not know what to do. Anjali pulled me into our own class and asked others to go in theirs. She beckoned Jagriti and others to rub everything before a teacher read it.
When I entered my own class and gingerly turned to read the board, I saw others gather around me as well. ‘Oh well, can’t avoid them forever now.’ I thought and then concentrated on the board.
The verses on my class blackboard were not very long. But they were meaningful and power packed. I blushed as I fully gathered the meaning of what beheld my attention.
“In this give and take of glances, kisses sweet as honey dew
When we played with equal chances, did you win or did I lose?”
Again my name was written on top.
“Who do you think did this Riya?” Rahul asked. He was our class monitor and a very wise student.
“I don’t know Rahul, honestly. I just came in myself!!” I spoke surprised at my own shell shocked response.
“It could be Kabir . . .” Manisha spoke. She was our Bony sir’s niece. Everyone knew she fed him stories about me and Kabir.
“He can’t spell poetry, forget about him writing it. Besides, choosing a love poem takes brains and sensitivity. I don’t think our Mr. Handsome has that talent.” Anjali had stood next to me, my wall.
“That is prudent Anjali. Besides, writing these all would take hours. No one can do it in half an hour or even an hour. I’m sure it wasn’t even done this morning.” Rahul analysed the situation.
“Someone did this yesterday, probably after school.” Anjali added. She and Rahul had an uncanny way of thinking alike. Mamta, Ronit and everyone else nodded in solemn affirmation. Manisha was cooking up her newest tale to be circulated around.
I realized then what had happened.
“Excuse me; I must go out for a while.” I said and left the room. I headed straight for the boy’s lockers.
“What do you think you were doing?” I banged opened the door of the locker room without knocking. There were boys in their shorts and few in towels. I was however oblivious to all this. My eyes were focused on Kabir who stood there wearing our school uniform with his shirt half buttoned.
“Let’s wait outside”. Dev nodded his head meaningfully at others who obediently stepped outside.
We were alone now. My breathing was fast. Kabir was calm. He walked close to me and held my hand.
“I meant every one of them . . .” he spoke softly.
I knew my nerves were bursting when I had barged in the locker room. But something in his voice and gaze was soothing it now. I did not want to cool down yet.
“You are hell-bent on making me a mockery in the school Kabby . . . Why?” I asked.
“It’s because I love you . . .” He spoke. He looked me straight in the eye and spoke without blinking his.
I stood frozen. I knew my heart was beating loudly, but somehow I could not hear or feel anything. Not even the mixed stench of sweat and deodorant emanating from every corner of the locker room distract me after what I heard.
This was the first time he had said it. I knew it to be true, yet to hear a boy saying that; well . . . that holds a different essence all together.
“Kabby . . . !” was all I could say and my knees gave way. I landed in his arms once again and this time he embraced me protectively.
“It is true, I love you Riya Sehgal . . . I love you so much that I can spent a whole day in library searching poems for you. I love you so much, that I can spend time writing them in seven different class rooms for you. I love you so much that if you cry again . . . I will tear this building down. I love you . . . just so much.” Kabir was stroking my back as I stood there clutching his shirt.
I looked up with a tiny tear in my eyes. It gently rolled down on my cheek where he rubbed it off with his finger. Kabir looked at me with so much affection and love in his eyes that I was drawn to him. He was tall; this eleventh year had shown a spurt of height and muscle in both him and Dev. His arms were long and surrounded my tiny frame completely. He had a passionate look on his face and his entire persona glistened in the dim light of the room.
“I love . . .” I was not able to complete my sentence and out of shyness or increased tachycardia, looked down.
“I know . . . my flightless bird.” He lifted my face with his hands.
I will never forget that day. I stepped out of the locker room after a good fifteen minutes. All the boys were standing there. They looked at me with renewed interest, as if expecting me to speak out all that had happened inside. Then they pretended to be busy in other things. I slid away and rushed to my class.
As I sat down and opened my Mathematics book and listened to the word spoken by my Mathematics teacher my mind wandered to that moment in the lockers when Kabir had lifted my face.
He had bent down and hesitated for a second, and then he had kissed me . . . a tiny loving peck on my cheek.
My entire body was aflame with sheer bliss. Riya unconsciously rubbed her left cheek. She still remembered how difficult it was for her to look Kabir in the eye, later that day, as she sat with him on their spot. He sat there with his arm touching Riya’s and that did things to her. Her entire focus was shifted from her chemistry notes to Kabir.
Riya smiled as she recalled how frightened she was that Kabir would distract her from her studies and that she would fail in the upcoming Formative three examinations.
Back in those days, success and failures were so easy to evaluate. Riya touched her chain and began stroking the pendant unaware of the passing hours.
I
t was December. Our Third formative examinations were on way. Kabir had prepared diligently this time. I had helped of cource, but he was a different boy now. There was a remarkable change in him and in Dev due to him. Both were scoring well in eleventh grade, much to Tejas’s annoyance.
The reason had been Ms. Payal Suri.
“Come in here you two . . .” She had called us in her free period in one of the empty class rooms.
“I know it was Kabir who wrote all those poems on the board. The librarians are vigilant too you know. Anyway, that was not why I called you two here.” She sat us down in front of her and herself she stood leaning on a bench.
“Kabir . . . do you really care this much for Riya?” She looked at him. I was stunned by her candidness.
Kabir did not fumble or delay his response.
“Yes ma’am.” He replied confidently.
She looked at him intently, gauging her opinions and ideas.
“Very well then. Here is why I called you. I saw the poems you choose. They were not only meaningful, but difficult to grasp for a seventeen year old. If you have that much brain and that much will to do something different, apply that to your studies. I’m sure you don’t want people to laugh at your girl behind your back.” Ms. Payal had amazed me beyond anything.
“Yes ma’am, I understand.” Kabir had replied.
“Good. Off you go then, both of you. And Riya, a word for you as well. I know this feeling of love is over powering and makes us forget our real targets. But you dear, are meant for higher and better goals. Don’t lose focus. There are a lot of hopes attached with your earnestness and dedication. You are a meritorious progressive girl. Don’t let this be the bane of your studies, when it ought to be the boon.” She placed a motherly hand on my shoulders. I nodded in agreement and adulation for my teacher.
When the results were declared, Ms. Payal was more than pleased to see me score superbly and Kabir perform his best so far.
It was then I realized that some teachers did think with heart for their students. We can approach them with our worries and qualms. They do care. Ms. Payal had won our hearts forever.
The December holidays saw the basketball tournaments. Angad and Kabir along with Tejas and his team led us to the finals. I would come to school before my medical tuition classes and see them play. It was a spectacle to see Kabir shoot baskets. His face would brighten up when he saw me sitting in the crowd. I knew he had seen me because his entire game changed after that, he would be on fire and people actually said that I did bring out the best in him, in all regards.
Needless to say, the day of the finals was packed and everyone was sitting in the stands to see their team play. I was there along with Anjali, Ameesha, Jagriti, Rahul, Joy, Jaya and Ayesha and her gang; all were present to cheer Kabir. Geetanjali and Meenakshi were there as well and Danish was the commentator for the game. He had a baritone fit for the kings and all of us were certain that that was what Meenakshi loved about him. This was their final year in school and pretty soon we would be busy preparing a farewell for them and others.
As Tejas scored the winning basket, with Kabir’s skilful pass, I wondered at them both. On field, they were the dynamic duo, so into the game that one could never say they were rivals and cause of detention for the other. But I suppose that is what is sportsmanship and game play. You put your team and school before personal grudges. Tejas was indeed a fine player.
“Congratulations Kabir!” I shook his hand and stood there proudly with him.
“Thanks doll!” he replied sipping glucose.
“Don’t call me doll . . .” I said smilingly and Anjali rolled hereyes.