Schoolmates (2 page)

“You are such a shameless student. I really don’t know what is wrong with you. What a pity you are in Gandhi house this year. Mrs Shastri is going to have much to answer for. And you better watch your temper with the teachers, young man, or I’ll have to take you down to the principal’s office. Submit your file on time.” said Mr. Bonerjee and whisked past him. Kabir nodded his head in disgust and followed his classmates back. No one said anything about the whole episode; even Kabir himself was used to such shams. And the only thing visible on his face was the mocking smile of Bony sir’s staggering walk, obviously done half in revenge and half to impress his female fans stepping out in the corridor after the school bell.

That was Kabir, as light as air and as vibrant as a carnival parade. Dev Verma, his best friend from first grade soon joined him and both walked along with us students as if it was a daily affair, which in fact it was, for Kabir stood out often, for misbehaviour and his growing impudence in many of our classes.

CHAPTER-2

I
am an only child. My parents are very proud of me. My dad, now retired was then in the Army and was very strict and high in demands. Needless to say I was and still am, his weakest spot and he loves me dearly, but he never pampered me. So, even though they could have me picked by car, my folks preferred I sweat it out and let me come by bus. I came in the second trip as the first trip was made for primary students. So this left me about 35-45 minutes each day after school, free to myself. I had always utilized them doing either school work or reading a book. The basketball court was some distance from the school gate and most students often threw baskets there while awaiting their buses. Kabir was one of them, as he too went by the second trip. But on having made it to the school team, he needed to stay back for practices. So, these days he was coming by his bicycle.

I had not been paying attention towards him. I never did. He was just a roll number in my class. Everyone knew he was facing compartment exams in a few weeks, but he himself was oblivious to this fact, or so he pretended. I would never have tolerated such sassiness towards ones studies and therefore to me Kabir did not matter at all. Especially since he was caught just a month prior during the final examinations with
Holi
colours hidden in his empty pens and even inside the foil of his lunch! Needless to say his mortified parents were summoned yet again for a meeting with the Principal.

It never bothered him. A few words of apology and he was his old self. Absorbed in his sport and winning admiring glances from a bunch of girls sitting right beside the stands. Just a regular school day.

That day also I was busy completing my physics file. My bag was tucked neatly next to me and I was sitting on one of the stairs with pens and pencils in my hand. Next to me was my water bottle which was opened ominously. And all of a sudden! There came a huge thud and something big hit me on my forehead, toppling my file and the water bottle and throwing me to a side. Pens and pencils flew out of my hand and I was thrown back on the steps. For a second I din’t realize what hit me. Then I slowly regained my posture, straightened my skirt to cover my knees, lest it should have slipped higher and I had a look of disorientation written all over me. In a second there came a soft, yet panting voice of a boy, “Sorry . . . I’m so sorry. I missed the ball. I called out your name but you din’t look up.” It was Kabir. He was panting and sweat was dripping like rain from his chin. His hands were resting on his waist and he had a rushed but real apologetic look on his face.

“You just din’t hear me . . .” He repeated. “I din’t mean to do it, the ball just flew too high . . .”

“It’s all right Kabir,” I said raising my hand to rub my fore head which was throbbing with its first heavy blow of a basketball. “I know it wasn’t intentional. No one would do it intentionally.” I picked his basketball and rubbing my temple handed it to him. It was then that I realized that water was spilling all over my Physics file.

“Oh! No . . . I’m really sorry . . . I’ll get you a new cover . . . I . . . I am sorry Riya,” Kabir apologized again. His friends had started shouting his name and he was torn between standing there being a gentleman and being the sports buff that he was. So I removed him from his misery and said, “Go, your team is waiting. Besides it’s my fault really, I should have put a plastic cover on this,” I said looking over the now tatty wet pink cover.

I was upset, but not with him. I never expected anything out of him, not even an apology. He was known for being rough; apologising was not his cup of tea. Besides, I did not permit myself such callousness. I was meticulous and organised and this was definitely an error on my part.

I remember nothing major of that little incident. Nothing unique or special had occurred. Kabir was like that, he always wanted to make amends after every mistake. So when he looked quizzically at me, I couldn’t figure out what was in his mind. It was many months later, that I realize what he had been thinking. He had told me himself
. . .
he had recollected all the details.

But, nevertheless, this tiny trivial incident changed my life. And I still thank Tejas Ahluwalia for throwing that ball so high that day. By the way, Tejas was not just any other student. He had a big significant role in our love story. Tejas was Kabir’s rival, and that high throw was no mistake either. Still we thank him. Had it not been for him, I would never have had Kabir in my life.

CHAPTER-3

N
ext morning, during the physics theory period all students submitted their files. Before that, Kabir had come to me and pulling out a pink cover had said hurriedly, “Here!”

“What is this for?” I had asked. I was busy preparing my register and taking out my pens. Anjali who was my best friend and who sat next to me did not even bother to look up.

“It’s for the cover I spoiled yesterday. I really am sorry.”

“Not spoiled, ‘ruined’ is a better word don’t you think? Anyway, I’ve already put a new cover on my file. I wasn’t expecting this.” I had said, pointing at his hand.

Kabir looked baffled. Finally he asked, “Well, what do I do with this cover?”

Now it was my turn to look puzzled. I wasn’t expecting this kind of clumsiness, at least not from someone who was brilliant at sports. So somewhat peevishly I had said, “Why don’t you put it on your file Kabir?”

“But my file isn’t here.” Kabir began humming some tune.

“Have you submitted it already?” I had suddenly looked up at his face. I couldn’t believe he had beaten me to it.

“No. No, I meant I have not brought it to school, it’s at my place.”

“But today is submission Kabir . . . And you recollect how Bony was pissed at you.” I had asked seriously, trying vainly to reason with him.

“You think I care for that Bony Phony . . . he is a lousy person and a shit teacher!” Kabir had flared at the mention of Mr. Bonerjee.

“Stop it Kabir! He is our teacher and will be for the full term. It’s bad that you don’t study but it’s worse to publically abuse your teachers! It’s not sir’s fault that you aren’t studious enough.” I saw Kabir stiffen at my retort and his ears turn their characteristic crimson. Clearly he was mad at me, but oddly he said not a word of retaliation. He just turned and clomped away dumping the pink cover intentionally near the classroom entrance door. I then realized what mistake I had done. Kabir got this talk from everyone. His entire circle of people gave him this similar pep talk—his parents, our teachers and now me . . . his friends too. This really had hurt him but as it was the truth he din’t say a word in his defence.

When the class was about to be over that day, I was awaiting the call for collection of files. It was my duty, you see, to collect files and make lists of the defaulters. So when Mr. Bonerjee called for it, I promptly got up and went about my business. I intentionally went towards Kabir’s seat and asked dutifully for his file. He didn’t even look up.

Later, submitting the files, I had handed Mr. Bonerjee the defaulter’s list. As he began calling out their names, I sneaked a look at Kabir who was sitting at the end of the class, two rows behind me. He was preparing himself to get up, when the shrill call of the names ceased. The look on Kabir’s face matched Mr.Bonerjee’s. Both were definitely surprised by the absence of Kabir’s name in the defaulter’s list.

Mr. Bonerjee asked me, “Riya did you write all names correctly? Not missed anyone?”

“No Sir.” I spoke smoothly. “Although his work is incomplete Sir, but as I din’t know what to do so I collected Kabir’s file also Sir.” I had then looked at Kabir and smiled sweetly, hoping he would understand. He just looked puzzled and surprised.

“Well, I’m not checking incomplete work. So Mr. Kabir, take your file back. Finish your work and resubmit it tomorrow.” Clearly, Mr. Bonerjee was missing scolding Kabir and didn’t like the sound of his own words. Kabir walked up to the teacher’s table and looked confused. He was not aware; you see how his file looked! So he was having difficulty in locating it. Mr. Bonerjee thought Kabir only to be inept and didn’t suspect anything. I know Kabir looked many times in my direction that day, but I intentionally ignored him.

So, as soon as the school was over, he came running to me at the same spot where we had accidently first met. I was expecting this. I smiled as he approached me.

“What the hell was that all about? What did you mean by doing this? I didn’t ask to be helped!” He was annoyed but was not shouting at me.

“’Thank you’ would have done it Kabir,” I kept smiling at him. I was a bit surprised though. I did not expect a pleasant thank you, perhaps the boy did not know the gesture existed, yet to hear anger in his voice made me take a step down. May be he was not accustomed to being helped, I thought, or he is indeed a nitwit, as Anjali often termed him.

He was clearly not expecting this nonchalance from me. He just went mute and stared at me. Finally I giggled and said, “Look Kabby, I am really sorry I spoke that way to you. So to compensate my erratic behaviour, I saved you from another reprimand.”

Kabir’s eyes widened and he said, “Well, whatever you just said, I didn’t get much of it except that you saved my as** . . . me . . . saved me. I suppose I must thank you for it. But don’t bother again.” I did not miss the correction he had made in my presence.

I had gotten up and stood next to Kabir holding the latest edition of National Geographic across my chest. I said, “Kabir, everyone needs help. And if you spent a fraction of effort at studies as compared to basketball, you would understand all that I just said.”

“Yeah . . . right. I don’t have time.” Kabir gave his standard answer, looked sideways and ruffled his perfectly set hair in that typical boyish gesture.

“Then make time Kabir. God knows you have an upcoming retest for Science and Maths. If you fail... they will throw you back in class Ninth. Now you don’t want that do you?” I was just being my old rational, yet persuasive self.

To this Kabir didn’t reply but looked down. I now know, Kabir always went silent when he covertly agreed with another person. Somehow, the always vocal, Kabir Sharma got mum when he couldn’t contradict someone.

I continued, “Look Kabby, don’t mind, you can borrow my previous year’s notes. They will help you. And I can lend you my Physics file as well. Get it back tomorrow ok. Finish the write up of practical.”

“Speaking of the file, do you carry a spare each day? And were you not scared, had Bony opened the file you submitted he would have fired you. It was completely blank! Yeah . . . Except for my name on it!” Kabir looked amazingly at me.

“That was a well calculated risk. I realized Sir would be too overwhelmed to see your file that he may not bother opening it when I would casually say it was incomplete. And that is exactly what he did. And No, I don’t carry spare file each day. But I do carry cash. I purchased it during recess, covered it with the same pink chart you had thrown away in the morning.” I finished triumphantly patting my back. This brought a tiny flicker of smile on Kabir’s face. I always knew he was a handsome guy. But up close, I realized just how much, made my heart skip a tiny little beat, I think, back then.

“Kabir, I’ve put my neck on line here for you. You better do the file work and submit it tomorrow. Just don’t tell anyone what I did. Ok. It’s our secret. OK? And don’t look so shocked. I too have guts man!” I raised my collars and we both giggled at our own luck.

Later, I gave him my notes. He was surprised at my cleverness and boldness. He was not expecting me, the bookworm, to be this wicked. I guess that drew him to me. I began helping him by giving my notes and files regularly. And so our interaction grew beyond the Hi-Hello stage. I soon realised how prejudiced we students are in our teens. Kabir was a fine boy, a true gentleman in my presence and he did know that the gesture called ‘Thanks’ existed as he made it towards me numerous times in the coming weeks.

CHAPTER-4

T
he next day, right in the morning I went up to him and asked for my file back. Actually I wanted to see if he had completed his work as I was extremely perturbed and surprised at my own audacity. I mean what had I been thinking being all charitable and mushy? I knew his awesome looks did not catch my fancy but then there was no other valid explanation for my over-the-board helpful nature as well. I did not want Anjali to find out. She would never understand.

Mentally I had promised myself never to do such things again. What I din’t realize was that for Kabir I would take bigger risks, and pretty soon too.

“Thanks Riya.” Kabir handed me my file and smiled. I asked to see his work and he obediently handed that too. What I saw didn’t surprise me. His work was not more than a grade ‘C’, with poor sense of spacing and a poorer handwriting, internally, I winced at the banal quality of work he had done. It appeared that the eraser and scale did not exist for him. I looked from his file to his face with a retched expression on my face.