Anyone Else But You... (22 page)

“Okay okay, I get it! Can we
not
discuss the different connotations of the word
what
?”

“Yeah, whatever!” she answered back.

“So, as I was saying, erm…yeah, Muskaan! Such a bitch she is
yaar!
She finally became the VP!” Rishav said. There was a loud horn, the next Metro had arrived. The waiting passengers suddenly came back to life upon hearing the loud noise. They started approaching the edge of the platform in anticipation of the train to come to a h
alt. Im
patience
and
lack of
knowledge of the sentence –
after you,
the Delhi public could be really annoying when it came to travelling with.

Bulky men pushed and shoved whoever came by their way. The frail looking Rishav Sen thought it to be his moral responsibility to be ensuring that no harm came Sahana’s way. He tried using his
‘utterly masculine’
arms to prevent anyone from randomly hitting Sahana. And his kind gesture was rewarded with a curt comment, “What on earth are you trying to do? Keep your hands to yourself
– they are kind of girly
;
and
I can take care of myself!”

He opened his mouth to argue but then realized how futile that would be and hence, decided to keep quiet.

They entered the train and failed to get a seat. Sahana made a face.

“So…” she said. “…what about your mom then? Did she tell you the news? Is she happy about all of this?”

“My mom? You mean my self-proclaimed mom? Veenu Ma’am?” Rishav confirmed.

Sahana nodded.

“…Oh, she
toh
is perfectly fine. These petty things hardly matters to her. I pity the others who’ve been eyeing Madhuri’s post with a lot of interest. You know, that Physics guy, the megalomaniac – what’s his name again?”

“Suraj Singh,” Sahana replied.

“Oh yes! Suraj Singh, he was quite interested in Madhuri’s post from Day One. Poor guy that he would have to be content with playing action-reaction with his Physics apparatus!”

“Speaking of Suraj Singh,” she began. “…you know he’s suck a jerk, he scratches his crotch in front of his students.”

Rishav raised an eyebrow, “I definitely, do
not
want to go on that track.” He chuckled.

Both of them fell silent for a while till she broke it, “So, Muskaan Kaur, Vice Principal – DHS! Sounds good to you, Mr. Head Boy?”

“Well, it kinda does. No harm really, although I might just end up becoming the
second
Head Boy, thanks to the fact that she is head-over-heels about Jai.”

“Huh! Who cares a fuck about him?” Sahana sounded bitchy. “
Chutiya hai woh!”
she added.

Rishav smiled.

Silence again.

“You know, the Council is full of show offs?” Rishav started talking.

“Huh? Like really, what’s with your obsession with the Council and the school and its stupid politics? Get a life… Sen! Can we really not talk about this? Please?” irritation for Sahana, often came out of nowhere.

Rishav shrugged, “Yeah sure. So what should we discuss?”

“Umm….what we are doing today!” came a quick reply.

“And that is?” he asked.

“Going to Connaught Place!”

“Oh yes, sure. Let’s talk about Connaught Place!” Rishav mocked.

“Not about Connaught Place, you dumbass! Let’s talk about what we are
going
to do there.”

“Why of course, we’ll do what Princess Sahana loves doing: eating and then shopping. And once that is done, we’ll eat a little more.
Hai na?
”

Sahana pinched him. He winced out in pain. Some people turned to look at them.

“First, travel in the General compartment and then have sweaty men around you – stinking like pigs. And add to that your crap – God, give me a break,” She cried out of frustration.

Rishav laughed seeing her that way. “You forgot your PDA,” he added.

“PDA? What the fuck? I am not showing you any affection by pinching you.”

“PDA stands for Public Display of Anger, you idiot!”

“Stop being lame, alright? Like please?” she disdainfully spoke. “And also, stand a little away from me. You creep me out, stop sticking to me in public.”

Oh God!
Rishav sighed and took a few steps back. Unknowingly, he hit a man, who stood asleep – right behind him. He woke up with the push. “
Kya hai abbe?”
he spoke in a heavy accent presumably from Haryana or Punjab.

Rishav, seeing his size, quickly mustered some readymade apologies as Sahana giggled from a distance.

Life I tell you
, he said to himself and badly waited for the train to come halt at the Connaught Place Metro Station.

TWENTY
-ONE

“Muskaan madam is the Vice Principal?” the Physics HOD, Suraj Singh spoke in a tone that displayed an amalgamated version of shock and despair.
“Help me oh, Newton!” he exclaimed out loud.

He read his text message a number of times to confirm the news. He got up, all anxious. He paced the expanse of his Physics lab.

Midget sized with a disproportionately large skull and the weirdest accent ever – Suraj Singh or ‘Pocket Singh’ as he was called was happily
sexting
one of his three wives when this horror of an sms came by. His Romanian wife had delivered a baby boy recently and was named Isaac. Suraj Singh’s Indian wife had a son named Albert, all that remained was the French one to deliver a kid named
Pasteur. Leaving the family matters aside, muttering stuff like:
the equation of motion
and
pendulum,
Suraj Singh raced towards Veenu Sharma’s office. He had to score brownie points and now was the time to do so.

He scratched his underarms as he passed the corridors. A bunch of students brushed past him, one of them screamed out
– Pocket Singh
. As though a Suraj Singh in distraught was not enough, the word
Pocket
insulted him like crazy. “Come here!” he ordered.

The boy walked up to him obediently. In a single movement of his hand, Suraj ripped apart the boy’s externally stitched pocket. The boy looked at him in awe and disbelief, he had finally been violated by the Pocket Singh and it was a day of celebration for him. “Go now,” Suraj instructed.

All smiles, the boy turned around to leave when a voice beckoned Suraj.

“Tearing pockets?” Veenu Sharma stood there, a phone on one hand and her purse on the other.

“Ma’am, ma’am…” Suraj started mumbling.

“What ma’am, ma’am? Go ahead…” she went ‘bow-wow’ at him.

“I was
z
ust
trying to…” Suraj was at a loss of words. He was caught red handed.

“Okay, leave that,” Veenu said. “Come here…” she ordered.

Suraj quickly walked up to Veenu and positioned himself like an efficient lieutenant.

“
Z
i
ma’am?” he asked.

“There is no teacher covering the 11
^th
Commerce Section. Go cover the class instead of tearing pockets.”

“Ma’am, but I had to ask you something.”

“Your questions aren’t important anyway, so just go and do as you are told.”

Poor Pocket Singh, one expected a grander recognition of his exploits.
And all he got in return was an order to cover a class, “
logarithmic A upon B
,” he muttered under his
breath
as he walked towards Siddhant Dalvi’s Commerce section.

*

“Wanna miss the Library period?” Rishav asked a deeply irritated Sahana, who was restless because the Economics teacher kept on avoiding her perpetually raised hand.

‘
What is deficit financing?’
the Eco teacher had asked. And as expected almost three-fourths of the class had no clue about it. But unlike the rest, Sahana Vajpai did. And hell she was angry when she was constantly being denied a chance to rant out the answer to deficit financing.

The teacher looked at her once, twice, thrice but never recognized her to stand up and answer. Sahana remained persistent with her efforts.

Only after the fourth or the fifth look did the teacher, who by the way too, was irritated – recognized Sahana. “Yes Sahana. Please tell us why are you so hyperactive?”

“Ma’am?” Sahana raised an eyebrow and moved her neck a bit.

As she shifted her weight from foot to foot, the teacher commented, “Why are you so restless? Stand in one place first.”

Sahana looked on. “Do you want an invitation to speak?” the teacher followed up.

Sahana got weirded out by the lady’s constant comments, “Ma’am, I was going to speak but you raised a point about me being hyperactive and erm…restless.”

“Yeah, so? Can’t I say that?” came the rebuttal.

“Absolutely ma’am. But I don’t see how deficit financing is involved…”

“Okay okay, tell me the answer quick,” she instructed.

“Ma’am, erm…deficit financing is you know when the RBI, you know…ah, prints excess currency notes to meet the deficit, you know and it leads to a sharp fall in the price of the currency.” Sahana said.

“Why do you stutter so much?” The teacher asked. “What is deficit? And who asked you to say what happens when deficit financing is done? You could have just left it to what it is and not what happens.”

Oh c’mon bitch,
Sahana said to herself.
Get a life woman, personal comments and then follow it up with your feedback!

“Sit down, anyone else wants to add anything?” the teacher floated another question.

Rishav quickly turned around to face Sahana.
She was red with anger, she rolled her eyes. Rishav knew how she must have been abusing the teacher in her head now.

“Calm down,” he whispered. He repeated his question, “Want to hang around in the library period?”

Sahana pushed her hair behind her ears, “Yeah sure. But won’t our names come up in the log book?”

Rishav thought for two seconds, “We’ll tell the logbook incharge not to note it down. What say?”