The TimePass of India

"Are you on orkut?" A friend asked me.


It was the winter of 2003. I was in the first year of my Mechanical Engineering. I didnt know what or who orkut was and what do you have to do with it! Why does one have to be on orkut?


"To make friends." He said. "I am on orkut. You can add me there."


But weren't we already friends??!!


I dont know when I decided to join orkut. But I fell in love with it instaneously. So many of my friends whom I had left behind in school, in the scholarship classes I had taken, the people I had met at the science fairs I had visited -- all of them were there on orkut. You could see what junior college they went to, what they were currently studying, if they were single or not...


The best feature was that you could search for your friends by entering their names. Boys would enter the names of the girls who were popular in school. Maybe now they would have enough guts to talk to them.


Sometimes you typed in the name of the girl who you thought you were in love with back in school... you wanted to know what was on in her life... what college was she in.. was she still as pretty as she once was.... did she have a boyfriend...




But this post is NOT about that girl. This post is about another girl.


The girl whose name you never enter in the search box on orkut. The girl who never matered to you... The girl who you were mostly embarrassed to be seen talking to...


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In the 7th standard, when you are 13 years old, the best thing that can happen to you is that a girl falls in love with you and declares that to the world. Not so much if that girl is --Suman.


I wont call Suman ugly, but there was something about her that.. well... wasnt pleasing enough... She wasnt as curvy as the other girls (which mattered) nor was she too smart like some others (which didnt matter). She was, well, kinda plump.


When you are 13, you have such frail parameters of beauty. I know I did.


I had changed schools in the 7th standard. So, I was the new kid in my new class. The guys wanted to know what my rank in my old school was. You know, if I was a threat to the rank order. Men can be so competitive! It all sounds so silly now.


The girls wanted to know if I had a girlfriend from my old school or maybe someone who stayed next door or something. I didnt really know how to differentiate between a girl who was a friend and a girl who was a girlfriend. But puberty had made an appearance already and the realization of the differentiation came soon after.


So, Suman liked me. And had called dibs on me or something. So all her friends were on a mission to be matchmakers. Girls like doing that. It's embarrassing to all parties involved.


Initially, it would be her friend -- Hina, who would come up to me and make small talk. It was important to be friends with me before she could make me an offer. Then it was all her other friends. I enjoyed the attention for what it was worth but realized it might be getting out of hand now. The funny thing is - Suman never even tried to initiate talk with me. She would sit in a corner and keep looking in my general direction during free periods, lunch hour and such.


My guy friends made sure that I was made fun of enough number of times. They would call her names and though I thought it was wrong call someone names, I figured if I wanted to be one of them, I better dive in with them.


News travels fast in school. Soon all the kids in all the divisions knew about Suman's attraction for me. Every time I passed a group of girls in the corridor there would be giggling! It drove me nuts!!


Suman tried talking to me in a way only school girls can. She got hold of me in the corridor after school.


"Hi."She said. I didnt answer. She continued, "So, I was wondering if I could have your English notebook. I was absent yesterday."


Now she could have asked the book from one of her girl friends. I mean who would want to read my handwriting? The teachers did, coz they had to, coz they got paid to read what we wrote.


I gave her the notebook. I wanted to get this over with. I felt people were watching us -- the more time I spend talking to her, the more news it would make.


She tried her best to talk to me. She would come to me during the games period and try to make small talk. I know how difficult it can be for a guy at the age 13 to talk to a girl he likes, and she was a girl, it must have been doubly difficult for her. But you arent exactly Mr.Sensitivity at 13. That is an age where your reputation matters more than the feelings of the people you are with.


"Hi, we are organizing Garba night this navratri. Would you like to give it a try?" -- Some girl from the 8th standard said. I had seen her before. In fact I thought she was kinda hot. But I have never been interested in dance and such. I have never been interested in anything I am not good at. Thats just how I am.


"no, thanks." I said.
"Suman is going to be there." She smiled.


Even 8th graders knew! I was pissed at all this. What was going on? My reputation was being tarnished here. Suman? I wouldn't go out with her in a million years. What does she think of herself!!


Then came the breaking point. She called home one day. Only, it wasnt any other day. It was Valentine's day! And my father picked up the call. It was an era when students in the 7th standard didnt own mobile phones.


"Hel..Hello" she said.
"Suman you cant call here. What do you want?"
"Uh.. I just.. just wanted to know if you will come to school tomorrow." She said.


What? she called to ask me if I will come to school tomorrow?
"Yes I will. Now I have to go do some homework." Saying that I banged down the phone.


My parents knew the date too well. My mother had smile on her face and I knew that a question would follow anytime. Before I could rush out of the room she asked -- "Who was it?"


"Just a friend. Had some doubt. Now it's solved."


It was far from solved.


The next day, we met after school in the corridor near the school library. Everybody had already left the building. We were the only ones in the corridor. She had a glittery pink packet in her hand. She looked at me and smiled. My expression remained unchanged.


"I wanted to give you this." She said.
"I dont want anything from you." I said bluntly.
"Please." She said. Her eyes pleaded to just have a look inside the packet.


I was angry at her. More than her, I was angry at myself. How could I be so shallow? But why did she have to call my home in the night on Valentine's day? What was wrong with her?


"No. I dont want to. And I want to clear out some stuff for you --" I was angry and my choice of words made sure I sent out the same message. But before I could say anything, she said--


"I love you."


I felt the insides of my gut heat up, i felt hot acidic fluid corrode my insides.


"Well I hate you. Do you get it? I hate you."


I said it. Not once but twice.


I walked out of there. I left her standing there all alone. I didnt even look back at her.


In a few days, the giggling stopped. Suman stopped staring at me in lunch hour.


She will get over it. I was sure. It was for the best.


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We left school school after the 10th standard, a good three years after the 7th standard. So much had happened in those three years. Crushes. Quasi-love. Heart-break. We were now mature, wise 16 year olds or so we thought. The world was waiting for us.


On the last day of school, we dressed up in our formal best to bid our goodbyes. The boys dressed in formal shirts or suits while for most girls it was their first chance to wear a saree.


The girls normally cried as they said their goodbyes. Some of the guys did too. Well, I am not a cryer. If you ask me, I dont even remember the last time I cried. Not that I am proud of it.


Suman came up to me. She wore a white saree and a worried look.
"Can I have a picture with you?" She said. This was the first time we had spoken after that incident. "Please?"


I had turned her 'please' down once upon a time.


"I would love to." I said.


And I placed my hand across her shoulder. I looked at her and the big smile that had suddenly appeared on her face from nowhere. And we got our picture taken.


"Thanks. I will keep this picture with me." She said. "I hope we meet sometime in the future."


I am not sure, but I think I saw a tear in her eye.


It made a dent in me somewhere.


--------------------------


I have never said - I hate you - to anyone ever. And I hate myself for the single time that I said it. I wonder if I should have been kinder to her and looked what was in that packet - maybe a greeting card was in it, or maybe a poem... I could have read it, at least. But I didnt.


I have never searched for her on Orkut or Facebook. I dont know what she looks like now. I dont know what college she went to. I dont know if she has a boyfriend or if she is married. Maybe she even has children. I dont know.


But I dont wanna know all that. I just wanna remember her as she was in that picture. I just wanna tell myself that among all the pain and hurt I had caused her, once, just once, I was able to make her smile.

- Arshat Chaudhary


The girl you didnt search for...

Short story


Back in the 9th grade, asking a girl out for a movie was a big deal.. Since the advent of puberty, your voice had already started to crack.. It cracked even more when you had to ask that cute girl out for a movie.. Now this is 1999 I am talking about.. It wasnt easy to get the girl u like to go out with you then,..... to be honest, its still difficult..

So you knew this cute girl, long hair, lovely eyes you could lose yourself in, got dimples everytime she smiled.. So if you wanted to ask her out for a movie, the conversation with her would go something like this -
"umm.. did you watch that movie - Dil Se?"
Note that SRK was her favourite actor, so it made sense to mention his movie, even though you thought the movie was a dud and you better spend the evening watching Undertaker wrestle Bam-bam-Bigalo..
"not yet"
"oh.. would you.. I mean.. like to"(the voice cracks up here) "I mean.. watch it with me..er.. this Sunday.."
She suddenly realises that hes asking her out.. she turns on her girlie radar, which essentially means shes gonna act full bhavkhao..
"umm.. I dont know.. My dad wont allow..you know.. alone.."

They should put them in jail for that..

You wanna ask, how can we be alone if we are together.. But you dont..

"Oh.. but we are not going alone..Your friends are coming too" An obvious lie.. But good thinking nevertheless..
"Who all?"
Think of names.. names..
"Suchitra, and Rajesh.. and Prajakta and..." You name 5-6 names that you know are her friends..
"thats good, I think I can ask my dad then.."
Whoopieee...

What follows next is trying to convince the 6 friends of her(whose names you mentioned) to come with you.. You lure them with free popcorn (kamine kahin ke) and they finally agree.

Then comes the booking of tickets.. Note that this is the time when there was no online booking.. So you had to stand in a long queue to get the advance booking.. You manage to get 8 tickets.. You take great care to ensure that two out of them are corner seats..
"Uncle corner seats diya na?"
"Haan yaar.."
You hear him telling the next in line - "Aaj-kal bacche bhi corner seat maangte hain" hehehe..

Finally Sunday arrives.. You get up early(which you usually dont), take a bath(which you usually do), apply half a bottle of perfume and reach the theatre..

She comes on time, but with her Dad in tow. Her dad drives his Maruti 800(we had only Maruti and Fiat back then) in through the theatre parking and almost runs you down.. Now these dads are the villainous types.. The problem is they had been teenagers once and know exactly what dirty things go on in the scum brain of the testosterone driven monster who asked his daughter out..

Her dad steps out of the door of the car and slams it.. These dad types work as managers in a MNC usually, and wear a tie to work, but when it comes to meeting his daughters male friend, he wears the unshaven look and lungi..
"Pappa, hes my friend, Abhi"
You look at pretty her, then look at her Dad.. And you wonder, how could someone like him make something this beautiful..
"Halla"
"Hello sir.."
Women enjoy this.. They want you to meet their dads.. Its their way of saying - "See, this man is my favourite person in the world, and if you can stand up to him, only then you have a chance with me.."

They should put them in jail for that..

You enter the hall, you make sure that you get the corner seats for yourself..You buy enough popcorn for her friends to be occupied... The lights dim.. Vicco Vajradanti ad plays.. The movie starts.. SRK starts jumping on a train.. Chal Chaiyaan Chaiyaan.. You are least interested in the song or in the movie for that matter.. You are interested in the cute girl sitting next to you.. You want to hold her hand.. no, not hold, just touch initially..

Clouds of nervousness loom over you, your palms become sweaty.. you wipe them on the thigh your jeans.. then all of a sudden, in a moment of gutsy drive, you touch her hand..

She pulls it back, almost like a reflex, then looks at you with wide eyes and a smile playing on her lips.. like shes amused, and she didnt expect you to do something like that.. Even in that dark hall, her eyes twinkle..

They should put them in jail for that..

The movie ends, you saw the movie only in bits and pieces, still it will be one of the best remembered movies of your life.. You start walking out of the dimly lit hall into the dimly lit parking.. When all her friends have left, she stands on her toes to reach your ear and whispers "thank you".. It will be ages before you understand the meaning...




Its 2009 and a lotta things have changed.. There are no single theatres now, Maruti has stopped manufacturing 800, popcorn is costlier than what was the ticket those days, even SRK sometimes comes up with meaningful cinema, but one thing hasnt changed, its still damn difficult to ask her out..

"Wanna..er.. watch a movie on Sunday?"
"Lemme see if I am free"
There she goes again..
"Oh comeon"
"hehe.. okay, which one?"
"How does it matter? hahaha"
It takes her a full two minutes to understand the joke behind that one...

She lands 4-5 playful punches, out of which two hurt..

Anyway, the movie starts.. Now that you are 23, you think it must get easier for you.. But it doesnt!..

You still get all nervous, your palms become sweaty.. It is still needs a lotta planning to put your arm across her shoulder.. You touch her hand.. this time she doesnt pull it away.. But she still gives that amused-mischievous look...Like after all these years she still doesnt expect you to hold her hand..

They should put them in jail for that...

The movie ends and the credits start rolling. You leave the hall with her.. You two walk through the huge driveway, sparsely crowded at this time of the night.. She walks closer to you than she normally does.. She holds your hand.. Theres something amazing bout that touch.. It seems to say that she trusts you and has complete faith in you... And it says that she knows you will keep her happy..

Her touch makes you feel strong.. responsible.. pure.. loved.. all at the same time.. as she walks close to you, holding your arm, she rests her head on your shoulder.. And you have the world..

"Thank you"... is all you can whisper in her ear..

She looks at you...smiles.. her eyes swell up with love... a drop finds its way to her cheek..

They should put them in jail for that... They should put them in jail for that..

Short story

She joined school after the first midterm in the 8th grade.. Public schools are pretty strict when it comes to joining school on time. Her dad must a big shot, Rahul thought..

She was cute, petite, had short shoulder length hair.. She was confident, very sure of herself...

The class teacher introduced her as Kritika Rajan.. Kritika gave a friendly smile..

Rahul noticed her cute dimples.. Now Rahul wasnt a dimples guy.. never was.. But he couldnt stop staring at her as she smiled. Rahul was the tallest guy in the class, so he always took the last bench, Kritika took the third bench. Good for him, coz he could steal a glance or two everytime she smiled and those dimples flashed..

She had asked Rahul for his Geometry notes.. Apparently, Rahul's teachers had high regard for the guy, they had suggested Kritika to get his notes to cover up for all the portion she had missed the last semester.. Rahul was obviously too happy to help...
She came fuming to Rahul the next day...
"I dont get your handwriting.."
"Arre, samjha woh likh.. baki drawing nikal! hehawhaw"
"Shut up.."
Clearly, it was not the right time..
"Okay, what didnt u get?"
"This word - 'cle' Whats tht?"
"cle- cle means 'circle'!!Thats called Rahul shorthand!!" Rahul shrugged..
"Ooookay.. whats 'rle'?"
"Rectangle!"
"Oh.. and 'tle' is er.. triangle?"
"Way to go girl.."
"Oh.. hmm.. hey, can u please wait after school to help me understand more of your shorthand? Please! Pretty please!"
Now how could anyone say no to that!!

That evening, among congruent and similar triangles, she opened up to him.. She talked bout her favourite movies, the sitcoms she watched, how much she loved Tv and why..

Rahul never met her father, but was pretty sure she was her father's daughter.. She was honest, strong willed, tough..
Her dad was a high court judge, and now was on the special bench for political cases. He must be an honest guy.. They dont transfer someone at a post that high that often.. Kritika later told him that she had changed 5 schools in the last 7 years. She had stayed in Nagpur, Aurangabad, Solapur, Pune and now mumbai.. she hadnt spent more than 2 years at any one place. She had very few friends, most of them in Pune, where her dad was last placed.



There was this place behind the school building.. It was like a very small playground, with a single swing, a slide, an incredibly small see-saw and a cement bench, for the teacher to sit and govern the pre-primary kids... He had seen the kids play there in the small sandy place. It seemed big when he saw them kids play there, but now that Rahul was sitting there waiting for her, the place seemed too small.. kinda cosy..

She came, she wore a pink sweater.. weird are these ppl who come from Pune.. After the freezing cold of Pune, they still find the need to wear sweaters in Mumbai! But then, Rahul didnt mind, she looked hot in that pink sweater..

"You have cute dimples.."
"What?"
"Your dimples.. they are cute.."
Its weird how a girl who is that tough around others melts when shes around someone she likes..
"No they are not..", she tried to look away, trying to suppress a blush..
"Yes they are.."
"Noooo", the more she tried not to, the more she blushed..
"Yes they are.."
"No, they arent.."
"Yes they are"

The Judge's daughter she was..., she liked winning arguments, but she liked him too..., she could let him win this one...


Back in school they behaved like total strangers.. Ofcourse there was a glance here and a wink there.. but they made sure not to come within 1 metre of each other.. The fact that no one knew about them made it more thrilling!

They started meeting every evening behind the school after school..
She always wore that pink sweater, now, even more coz she knew Rahul liked it on her..
"You got nice hair.. and pretty eyes.."
Its weird how naive these 8th grade boys are! No creativity they got I tell you..
"Nooo.. No one has told me that before.."
"Well, I am telling you now.."
"No, they arent that pretty.."
"Yes they are.."
"No"
"Yes"

The Judge's daughter she was..., she liked winning arguments, but she liked him too..., she could let him win this one...


December days get kinda chilly, even in Mumbai.. That day it was a bit chilly.. Even Rahul wore a sweater to school that day.. he normally thought he was too cool to wear one! He looked at Kritika who was sitting on the third bench.. she looked lovely as ever..

He kept looking at her throughout the Geometry and Science class.. Restlessness grew within him as last lecture of the day was approaching.. He wanted to be alone with her.. Talk bout stuff.. bout what he loved.. his fears.. his dreams...

The bell rang.. After everyone had left the school, he went to the playground at the back of the building..
She was sitting there.. The golden sun rays of the evening sun were falling on her face.. her dark hair looked golden brown in the sunlight.. It was very cold, she was wearing her pink sweater.. He could stand there looking at her all his life..

She looked at him.. Something wasnt right.. or so it seemed..
He sat beside her..

"Whats wrong.."
"My dad’s getting transferred.."
"Again?"
"Yep..This is my last week in the school.. My dad will be transferred to Nagpur"

She was taking it amazingly well..

"What? But it has been only three months!"
"Oh.. I know"
"You wont miss me?"
"No, why?."

This was weird.. didn’t she feel anything for him..

"Not even a little?"
"Umm.. a little.. maybe.."
He saw a mischievous twinkle in her eyes..

"You liar.. You not going anywhere, are you.."
"I sooo got you there..haha"
"Stop laughing meano.."
"Nahi re, my dad is getting transferred.. But I am staying with my Grandmom.. "
"I m not even talking to you.."
"Aaww, I am so sorry re.. sorry sorry sorry.. "

She must have said sorry bout 9 times.. And there must be guys reading this thinking that it doesn’t make things better.. but trust me, it does..

Rahul’s heart melted..

Its not fair.. Men were made taller and stronger.. Men fight, eat with their hands, drink from the carton.. What was bout these girls that made men all soft inside.. damn..

"Not fair..You cant do it to me.. I like you"

It was the first time he said that to her. Both of them knew it, but it was the first time he said it to her..

"I like you too.. more than you like me.. "
"No, I like you more.."
"No, I like you more.. "
"Nope, I do.."

The Judge's daughter she was..., she liked winning arguments, but she liked him too..., she could let him win this one...

She smiled, Rahul’s heart melted. He had won the argument.. But something he lost.. And he was not sure what..

She held his arm close to her and placed her head gently on his shoulders…

Last time I saw them, they were just 14 year olds, with dreams in their eyes.. and maybe.. one day... they got married...., and had kids and yes..., like all good stories go.. They lived happily ever after...


________________________________________________________
I am a sucker for happy endings.. Something didnt seem right in the last story. So I changed the ending..Happy New Year Guys..:)
The Judge's daughter

Short Story (The story isnt that short, but is worth a read..)


Diwali always reminds me of this incident..

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The good thing bout 6th grade is that studies are free of any distractions..You are not yet into girls or if u are a geek like me, you are not much into sports either... You only have to concentrate all your energies towards scoring well.. And thankfully even the people around you are pretty much intrested in that.. Except a few ofcourse..

Narayan Gaikwad.. The most notorious of all 6th graders this part of the world has seen..

He was the most known face of the 6th grade.. Every teacher, every peon knew him..
The most disliked guy in all 4 divisions of 6th std.
He was mischievious, a true prankster. He was the big daddy of all naughty kids, he had earned the title from proving himself time and again - Like the time he burst crackers in the toilet.. No big deal actually a lotta mischievious kids do that, but in this case the teacher was in the toilet!! Heh heh.. ahem..

I hear he was suspended from the school for 2 weeks(Narayan, not the teacher).. And the teacher didnt enter the school toilet for 2 months..

Narayan was short, and had a hefty build.. He could easily pass off as a 15 yr old.. He never combed his hair, the last time he did was back in 1992. He had a dark complexion, not a natural one - but the one that comes from years of playing cricket in the afternoon Sun.

Narayan kinda held the record for the most punishments endured every season... Only once
during the 5th grade did Karan Mehta(the second most notorious kid this part of the world had seen) came close..
15 kneel-downs to 14 kneeldowns..
But by the end of the semester however, Narayan had a comfortable 27-22 lead..

So all in all, Narayan was the kid your parents warned bout..!

------------------------------------------

Our class teacher that year was Miss Daisy... she was just out of her B.Ed college, and was full of bright new ideas on how to make the system better for "weaker" students. One idea was to make them share the bench with a smarter,brighter, hard working student.

I dont know if I was smart, bright, hard working but I was among the decent scorers of the class. This decency made Narayan Gaikwad my bench-mate!

Guys like me dont gel well with Narayan types. Narayan was mischeivious, shabby and poor.. Karan Mehta atleast had the latest video games which he did let us play with..His dad was Harshad Mehta's distant cousin we heard. Narayan's dad on the other hand was into security business, an euphemism for the word - watchman..

During lectures, Narayan, now my benchmate, would crack jokes which would frustate me, I was here to learn, what did this dumbo know..Maybe he will end up like his father.. But I dont wanna spend the rest of my life saluting people as they entered the building..

I asked Miss Daisy to change my partner, but she was adamant.. She had, based on our report cards, classified us into two groups and made the weaker kids sit with the better ones and according to her, it was working!! Sadly for me, it wasnt!

------------------------------------------

It had been 4 months of being bench mates with Narayan and though we werent like the best friends, we had started to get along a bit.

My least favourite period in the 6th grade was the PT(Physical training) period
We used to play cricket in that period. Since there were more than 22 boys in the class, the two teams had to be picked.... I never got picked in the team. I used to hate PT.
Narayan used to love PT.. Infact, that was the only period he liked.. He was the cricket captain simply, coz, well, he was the best cricketer our school had known. .


The selection procedure was the worst part, Karan and Narayan were always the captains.(The best players got to be captains by default) They selected the team. A group of guys always surrounded them, just so as to get picked first. I stood outside the group coz I knew they wont pick me.

Narayan won the toss. "I take him."(pointing at me). Karan eyes grew as big as saucers and so did everyone elses! Was he nuts?! I suck at this game! He picked me!

I think that did it.. I started liking him after that, not wholly though. I still had my reservations.. He never brought any tiffin, he used to utilise those 20 mins of lunch break to play cricket! I offered him my lunch, he offered me to play with him, neither of us accepted others offer..



Narayan was the youngest of 4 siblings and lived in a chawl.. He told me that himself. Diwali was the only time he got gifts. Like last Diwali his dad had gifted him a Season ball.. But he never played with it, coz none of the guys in the chawl had a season bat. The year before that, his dad's friend got him new a digital watch from Dubai.. it wasnt exactly new, he had used it for 1 year before "gifting" it. I looked at that watch. The dial shone against his dark, sunburnt forearms.

------------------------------------------


The term was ending in a week, and diwali vacations were about to begin.
"Bought any firecrackers for Diwali?", I asked.
"Not yet, but I love bursting crackers, the big ones bey.. not the Taj Mahal kinds. I burst one in my chawl everyday of Diwali at 4 in the morning! Its so much fun.. he haw haw.."
"Heh heh.. Good."(This guys such a chatterbox, and such a pain to the neighbours I thought)
"5? But they always came in boxes of 10.."
"Yeah.. they sell it loose"
"What other crackers do you buy?"
"Uh.. thats all.."

Thats all? 5 sutli bombs? I felt bad I had asked the last question... I think it didnt strike me that some kids celebrate Diwali only with so many crackers...

And all of a sudden it all seemed justified.. The pranks, bursting crackers in toilets and in the chawl at 4 am... The youngest in the family, always left wanting for attention. All he wanted is to have the maximum fun out of the limited resources he had...

Any 12 year old kid who gets only 5 crackers to burst in Diwali has every right to blow them up when he wants to.. 4 am, 5am, 6 am.. He has every right to blow them up in their face.. And no one should say anything bout it..
Narayan looked at my face.. I tried hard not to let the disappointment show.. but it did..
To get rid of the embarrasment(mine, not his) he said..

"Oh.. Oh.. But I am gonna buy sumthing else too.."
Saying this, he removed a piece of paper cutting from his bag. It was an advertisement for an Omega.
"You are buying an Omega watch?"
It costed Rs.3000, a lotta money in those days.
"Nahi baba.. The band.. watchband.. Duplicate.. But looks original. I ll show you, its available in the shop across the street."
Again, I felt silly I had asked the last question..

I looked at his watchband, the digital watch his uncle got from Dubai, the tin coating had chipped off in several places, rust showed where there was once glossy metal coat..


------------------------------------------


That evening he took me to that 4X4 shop. The shopkeeper reluctantly took out the watch band, implying that Narayan had been here many times to ask boutt he band.
"Rs. 30.. mangta hai kya? Baar baar idhar nahi aaneka"
We left sheepishly.. I meant I did.. To Narayan, the shopkeepers attitude didnt make any difference. He was too absorbed in thoughts of how the shiny metal wud look on his wrist..



It was the last day of school before the vacations began. The spirits were high.. Half of the teachers had taken the day off so that their vacations could begin early..
We had bout 5-6 periods free..

In the second last period, Karan and Narayan began to have a chalk fight. These guys collected chalk pieces from the staffroom so that they can have their very own World WarIII. Our bench was in the 3rd row from the door while Karan's bench was the 1st bench on the 1st row from the door. In other words it was right next to the door.
Karans "missile" hit me, and I got involved in this fiesta..
Narayan-Arshat v/s Karan Mehta..
Chalks flying everywhere. I got better with every throw. One hit Karan on his head, the second in his belly and the third,.. into Karta Miss' eye!

Karta Miss was our Vice-Principal, it seems our class was making a lotta noise and she had come just to check on us. And just as she was coming in, my chalk missile was into the trajectory and it had hit her in the right eye...

She was the most feared women in our school, or for that matter, in the world.. She was a cross between a bull and a wolf(or so the legend goes). She looked like a bull and wolf part, i ll tell you later... The chalk that I had hurled had hit her right eye. It gave the word - bullseye a whole new meaning.. Her eyes turned red, but then I couldnt make out if it was coz of the chalk-missile, coz they were always red!

The class stunned into silence.. Narayan still had a chalk in his hand, the last one in my hand had already found its target.

"YOU! COME HERE!", she screamed pointing towards Narayan with one hand and holding her right eye with the other...
Narayan got out of his seat and started to walk towards her..
Now the wolf part - She had claws like wolves do, with which she used to pinch the ears of her victims..

She grabbed him by his right ear and started dragging him out of the class..

"But Miss..", I said
"You stay OUT of THIS", she screamed..

She thought it must have been Narayan.. But Narayan knew it was my chalk that hit her. Karan knew that too and so did the whole class.. Narayan was a pro in chalk fight, its me whose aim could be this bad. But Narayan didnt say a word..

Narayan was made to wait in her office even after the school left. I waited for him outside the school gates.

That October night, I waited for him outside the school gates. It was only 6 o clock but winter had set in, and it seemed like it was 7 in the evening. I waited for him there for almost an hour after which he came out of the gates.

His right ear still had shades or red and a few weird shades of purple. He was made to kneeldown for 2 hours outside her cabin, his wobly walk testimony to that..He had been hit with a wooden scale on his shin.. But he didnt utter a word bout me..

Maybe he thought what would it do to my reputation among the teachers or what Miss Daisy would think bout me - a decent, bright, hard working boy.. hitting the vice-principal in the eye.. or maybe he just did it coz he saw me as his friend...

Thats what friends do, stand up for each other.. They are brothers in arms, so what if they belong to different backgrounds and have different grades on their report cards, each one of them, in their own way, completes the other..

That Diwali, I bought him that shiny watch band from the same shop across the street from the 30 rupees I had saved for myself...

I thought, a guy who would do that for a friend..., deserves.... a shiny watch....

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Happy Diwali everyone.. The shiny watch

On a rainy 15 June morning, you know, when the school reopens, he was rushing off to school.. And he thought this isnt love!