Authors: Latika Sharma
I waited for him behind the ‘infamous stairs”. As soon as he came and stood in front of me, I could sustain the pain no longer and rushed into his arms, weeping my pain out. He hugged me protectively and tried to control the jerks my body made as I sobbed wetting his white school shirt.
“Don’t cry Riya . . . I love you. Please, it kills me, to see you like this. Stop . . . please dearest!” he stroked my hair gently and swayed me in his thick arms. He had become so quiet these days that his voice which once resonated with laughter and mischief was sounding new to my ears.
“Kabir . . . I . . . can’t . . . anymore!” I tried to speak amid my sobs.
“I know my love. I miss you too. But we need to be strong. One day, I will fix it all. Please don’t cry . . . that I can’t bear!” he tightened his grip and kissed the top of my head.
It had been one month now . . . from that day my dad slapped him.
It had been like an ultimatum for us. Dad was keen to remove me from the school. He and mom had met the Principal and complained about how poor the school was managed that none of the teachers bothered to inform the parents of what was going on. My mom had eased the situation with her wisdom and poised voice as always.
Dad had not shifted me, but had warned me to stay away from ‘that boy’. My movements were guarded. Even with Anjali, who my parents reprimanded for breaking their trust was not particularly welcomed any more.
Kabir was happy that I was still in the same school. He had said he would have followed me where ever I went, nothing could compel him to do otherwise. Yet, a sea of separation had developed between us. The teachers were wary as were their informers. We could no longer be seen together. I had tried to stay away, I swear. But I had not realized how much he meant till I actually did.
Every day was gruelling. I saw him from afar but could not call out to him. I crossed him on stairs and in corridors but could not stophim. My body was in a tearful distress wanting to run away from this pain, but I looked the picture of tranquillity from outside.
He was suffering too. The merriment had deserted him; he looked unhappy and lost now. Dev was furious at my dad for hitting Kabir but all Dev could do was punch bags in Gym. His hands were bleeding and were bandaged now. We both moved in the same rooms as strangers where once our love had bloomed.
But today, I just could not bear to stay away from him. I was desperate to touch him, to feel the oxygen drench my system, to feel alive. I held on to him for I knew this association was short lived.
“I will never leave you Riya, no matter what anyone does or says. I can cross any hurdle for you. So do not cry ever again. Don’t pain your heart. I will meet you and hold you whenever you want and don’t worry about anyone my love. I will deal with them all. I am Kabir Sharma, and I love you so very bloody much . . .”
Kabir held my face in his hands. My tears had stopped pouring. He bent down and kissed me on my forehead.
I went back into my class looking like a mesmerized lover. As I sat down next to Anjali, she looked at me and observed the change in my persona.
I know she knew. But that day . . . she did not protest.
I
had not expected life to be so insane. May saw the temperatures go up and the starting of our extra classes. Dad made it a point to drop me in the mornings and my mom drove down to pick me up. I was escorted all the way to my coaching classes now. Kabir saw all this. Yet he found ways to communicate with me. I met him, not frequently now, but in library and behind the ‘infamous stairs’.
“How is your debate practice coming along?” he held my hand. I was standing in the library and he was standing next to me.
“Good. How is your trial coming along?” I knew this May; he was the favourite choice for our school team captain.
“I’m good. Will you be around these holidays?” Kabir asked. I knew he was tensed despite getting fantastic reviews from the team selection board. Yet, Tejas was not far behind. He was being everything one can be to impress the coaches and the selection board.
“My parents won’t let me, you know. But, I will see them declare, you my handsome hunk, the team captain.” I said playfully. It hadbeen a long time since Kabir had teased me. I wanted him back, back in his old spirit.
“I’m not a hunk, just a lamb in front of you.” he smiled.
“Oh Yes, you are. . . look at those bunch of biceps! I bet you can lift a small car with your hands.” I was trying to make him happy.
“Well . . . I don’t know about a car . . . but, here let me try this . . .” he came forward and picked me up in a second.
“Kabir . . . What are you . . . put me down!” I was shocked at suddenly being lifted.
“Really?” he looked mischievously at me.
I wanted to say NO . . . I was feeling so happy at that time that for a minute I forgot that we were now cautioned form seeing each other, let alone me being found in his arms.
“Someone will see us.” I looked shyly away and he put me down.
“I love you . . . My flightless bird!” he said and was gone. I was glad the library was deserted in holidays.
Things were settling down now. People who had gossiped about our breakup were now bored of it and picked up different topics. The teachers were also not so much on guard. Kabir and I had realized that no matter how violent the storm, the dust does settle down with time.
Ms. Payal Suri had again called us and counselled us. She had explained that the best thing was not to catch public attention now. To let the issue subside was the wisest thing. In time, when we were matured enough, perhaps our parents might reconsider. But till then, we had careers to make and lots to accomplish. We were in school and our life involved multitude of activities.
Kabir had been most impressed by all her talk. I too was seeing things differently.
I concentrated on my work, determined to never give my parents a chance to feel small again. Kabir too worked hard as he considered it his immortal duty to change my father’s opinion of him being a no-body.
I knew better... still I encouraged him. But, we were seldom seen together now. I walked the same path as did he, but separately. He knew how thrilled I was the day he was made the team captain.
I remember Ayesha trying to tease me once or twice. She tried to pinch me where it would hurt the most.
“So, Riya . . . are you and Kabir still together or is it over completely?” she asked me in the recess one fine day.
“How does it concern you?” I asked sternly.
“It may . . . you see Riya, a girl in B section . . . well . . . she wanted me to confirm, you do understand what I’m saying!” she fluttered her eyes. There was a thin line of kohl in them. Ayesha had grown into a lissom beauty with well-rounded curvatures. Most boys were forever eying her and she was forever enjoying their stares.
“Well, in that case, she better go and find out for herself. I have no concrete answer for you.” I said finishing my lunch.
“Oh C’mon Riya, it’s not like we don’t know what happened to the most famous couple in the school!” Ayesha was enjoying.
I looked at her wondering what I ought to say. How can I explain to her what really happened was that we both were stronger than ever.
“Buzz off Ayesha . . . you are getting tanned!” Anjali came to my defence. “Besides, if you feel that a single random slap can break what Kabir and Riya have then you really don’t know a thing about the most famous couple in the school.” Anjali sipped her mango drink with such nonchalance that I was amazed at her spontaneity and aplomb.
Ayesha left spryly. I wondered if it was what she realized about us or due to the threat of getting that tan.
Later, through Manavi, who was Kabir’s classmate, I heard what had happened after Ayesha decided to test how tough the ‘most famous couple in school’ was.
“Kabby, may I borrow your economics register?” Ayesha sat down next to him placing one leg on her second one in a graceful posture.
“Sure.” Kabir handed it to her without looking.
“Thanks. It is good that we have you in our class. You really are very helpful. It is a pity that Tejas isn’t on talking terms with you, he needs these notes too you know.” Ayesha built her plot.
“It is fine Ayesha, you may pass them to him, just don’t tell him you copied mine.” Kabir still did not look up.
Ayesha made a face. Her attempts to engage Kabir in a discussion were failing.
“What are you doing now? The English assignments? I can help in those, sure I’m not Riya . . . but then I do care for you too.” Ayesha tried to touch his hand.
Kabir finally looked up at her smiling face. He pulled back his hand and said, “You are right Ayesha; you are not Riya. There can be no one like her.”
“Sorry Kabir, I know it still hurts. It must have been embarrassing for you when her father slapped you. I mean she ought to have explained, we all believe it was not your fault and that her dad over-reacted. I never realized that such a simpleton girl had such an agitated family.” Ayesha said.
Kabir looked around. A few ears were tuned into their conversation. He knew his moves were being watched and that Ayesha was a pawn doing what Tejas had wanted her to do.
“Kabir, we are your friends as well. We care . . . I care. I always have and you know that. You can always forget the past and make a fresh start. She is a great girl we all agree, but you too are the school team captain, no lesser.” Ayesha spoke delighted that Kabir was listening.
Kabir thought about all that had been said. His reply still makes me proud to be loved by someone like him.
“Ayesha, you know, I have always wondered why it was that she liked me in the first place? I was a poor student; if it had not been for her I would have repeated my tenth grade. Yet, she liked me, guided me, helped me and even faced a lot of criticism and harshness from people she studied with.
But she stuck to me. I am successful today, because of her. She loved me then and she does so now. I was hers then and I am now. Nothing can change that. Not one man or a team of men. A slap is nothing compared to what I can endure to see her smile, just once . . . she is a great girl, you said so rightly. And that great girl is my girl. Remember that . . .”
I
t was September now. Our exams were just over and the school was gearing up for its annual inspection. The down side was that our teachers were after our life to complete the class decorations and the covering up of our files and registers. We were lectured daily about how valuable these inspections were. I was appointed the Head Girl that year and Girish Mendiratta from the commerce section was the Head boy. We were finalizing our speeches for the investiture ceremony. All the appointment holders were to take oath. That included Anjali, the editor, Rahul, the co-editor, Dev, the team A captain, Tejas the team B captain and Kabir, the school sports team captain.
It was a proud moment indeed. Many of our juniors who were appointed the house Captains and Vice-Captains were in awe of us as we were the famous couple now. Needless to say, the group photograph that year was presided over by numerous teachers. No matter what they said, the photographer made me stand next to Kabir. He held my hand the entire time and I blushed like a new bride.
Dev told me later that the photographer was briefed by Kabir prior to the commencement of the ceremony itself.
The inspection went very well. The auditors were satisfied with the school and its teachers. The prefectural board, comprising of us lot, had impressed them with our speech and manner.
“That went well.” Anjali said after a few weeks. She was keeping very busy these days since the second edition of ‘Flashes’ was to be released soon. It was now October and since she seldom called on the phone now, we were taking time out from the physical education period and sat below the many Jacaranda trees that lined our school’s play grounds. I loved sitting under the trees.
“Yes. I am happy that dad has eased a bit. You should come over Anjali, mom said so too.” I looked at my best friend. We had not discussed this issue for a while now.
“Maybe . . . let me first finish this work.” Anjali dexterously avoided any further discussion. I realized she was still sore from the scolding my dad had bestowed on that innocent heart of hers.
“Do you like this? Or is this picture better for the front cover?” She showed me three separate pictures. I looked and was highly impressed by what I held in my hand. Each one was a work of art! Very professional and meaningful. The artist had painted every image with so much care and detail that it was difficult to decide which piece was better.
“Wow! These are great! Who did them?” I asked, rotating the pictures.
“Surbhi. She is new to our school, joined this year. She is in humanities. A great artist, as you can see. I think her father justrepatriated from England a few months back. She likes me since I told her of my scholarship and she would be eventually studying there herself.” Anjali said.
The idea of her going to UK was disturbing me these days. I knew she was a meritorious bright young thing who deserved to be in the very best of schools. But she was also my best friend and I would miss her terribly.
These few days, since Kabby and I were keeping away, Anjali and I had grown closer. She never appreciated Kabir, especially since she held him responsible for the rift between her and my parents. Yet she knew he was as embedded in my life as are the veins on our hands.
Riya touched the picture taken on the investiture ceremony that day. Her class twelfth year book was lying open in front of her. She looked at the picture and smiled as it showed faces of two of the dearest persons in her life.
“Mom . . . can you please stop looking in that old ‘Flashes’ and come here! I need you to draw these for me.” Raibir had called her out. He was completing his drawing file and as was with Kabir, her son was also not very talented with art forms. His colouring was flawless nevertheless. Riya got up and walked into her son’s room.
“Here, let me see what you’ve done so far. Look here, the trees must be taller than the huts
. . .
Like in real life,” she picked up an eraser and corrected his mistake.