Authors: Latika Sharma
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 very 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.
“A
njali . . . 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 useless 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.
“Don’t hurt her . . .” Was all Kabir said after the slap that echoed in my house for days later.
He left. And I slumped on the floor.
My mom carried me inside where I slept crying the whole night. Our eleventh class finals began in one week.
T
he school reopened on first April, as always. The new time tables were drawn and new duties assigned. Our results were good. I had stood first in my biology batch, as well as the entire science sections and Kabir had fared very well too. Numerous activities were being adjusted in the school’s calendar. Anjali was the editor of our school magazine, “Flashes” along with Rahul as the co-editor.
I was the president of the debater’s society and the biology club “Herbarium.” My parents were pleased. Their daughter was doing exactly what they knew she was capable of doing. Anjali was happy since all her friends were position holders this year.
Things looked so creamy chocolate covered.
Except . . . that my heart was weeping! Not a single day or moment passed by when I did not miss him. Everything in school reminded me of us and our time spent together. I went in the library and saw him everywhere. I went in the physics lab and saw him standing there as well. I went to drink water and saw him smiling at me from atop the water fountain. I stood on stageand I could hear him call out my name from amid the cheering crowd.
Life had not been what it was after Kabir had left my house that day.
“Riya, the English teacher, Ms. Josephina is looking for you.” Mamta said, looking over Anjali’s shoulder as we stood in Chemistry lab doing titration. I closed the cork of my Burette and asked her, “Where is she now?”
“In twelfth C.” Mamta looked at me meaningfully.
I knew Ms. Josephina wanted to counsel me for the upcoming interschool English debate. I sighed and went up to my chemistry teacher and took her permission and headed for the class I was banned from entering from this year onwards. Kabir’s class.
As I stood on the door of the class and looked at Ms. Josephina, I knew he was sitting in there. I did not dare look in his direction. On entering in the class everyone got silent. Ms. Josephina looked at everyone sitting with a bemused expression. I kept my gaze on the floor.
Kabir was sitting just a few rows away, but I still did not look at him. I knew if I did I would cry instantly. I knew he was watching my every move, as was the entire class. Ms. Josephina asked me a string of questions and I answered them all very politely and confidently. I even managed to smile somewhere in the dialogue. But my heart was racing like a derby horse. I was sweating in my palms and I knew I had just enough will power to avoid looking at the boy who was mad about me, sitting there just seven steps away.
“That rehearsal will be done tomorrow Riya. I expect you and Jagriti to be there prompt after the sixth period.” Ms. Josephina said finally. “That’ll be all child, you may go now.”
I thanked her and turned back. The entire class of forty students was watching me exit the room. I, however, was aware of only one pair of sharp eyes, filled with longing, boring into my back like skewers.
I knew I should not have looked at hi m, but it had been almost a month since I had held Kabir’s hand or spoken to him alone. I slowed down my pace near the door. And just slightly, turned my head to look at him.
Two eyes, moist with lonesomeness and anticipation awaited me. It was as if he had not been breathing, hoping all the while that I should signal just once, that I too missed him and wanted to meet him. A smile broke out on his glum face and he nodded lightly.