You sent 9 February
The only flaw to this note is that the letters follow the chronological order of the memory lane rather than the alphabetical order. A, B, C and D are four of my classmates in school. I met B in 1982, D’s story was in 1984, A’s vivid memory happened in 1985 and C came to my life in 1987. The only reason of sharing this note here is because I owed these approximately 1000 words to them on their recently bygone birthdays, which I could pen down today, on Kalpataru Diwas. Each of them are on Facebook now, and thus, just the initials of their names or sir-names, here.
That was the last year (1982) when school sessions followed the calendar year- January through December. I was in Class IIA and B was in IIB. It was tiffin time, which, later, we learnt to refer to as recess or break. B sat all alone in class. I had overheard from other classmates that she had recently lost her father. Good lord! I could not actually comprehend what it meant to not have a father at eight. It was such an enigma to me. That day I gave up the regular games and snacking during recess and sat by her. Confused how to break the ice, I suddenly appreciated the handwriting on the label of her notebook kept on her desk. She gave a pale smile and replied that it was written by her father, who is no more. I barely touched her palm, may be to fathom fatherless-ness. Who knew then the sign thereof for me? I started liking this girl, lesser for these profound reasons and more because she could manage with so much of silence. Notoriously talkative, I awed how a person could be so silent. I wanted to befriend her, and serendipity it was! By then we were in Std III. For distinctly different reasons, household level mentoring for studies was minimal for both of us and we needed coaching support. A then engineering student was recruited who came twice a week at ours and taught us. I was happy. I got to talk to B…and one day she came in that crimson frock, with pearl-like beads on its neckline, sleeves and frills. She looked beautiful. That day, I apparently fell in love with B, that girl in the pearl frock!
D and I shared the first bench in class IV, not because she was my best friend, but because we were of the same height and topped the class for being the shortest ones. Another similarity, both of us were ‘chatterboxes’ and thus no claustrophobia of silence! As much as I trust that memory will not fail me, D was and is still called by a pet-name by us, her classmates. This pet name, has its tenets of leg-pulling, but D has always laughed loud at it, as much as we did. Things were fun with D and it was another school day on February 1, 1984. As we entered school there was an eerie hustle. The school bus had trampled the tricycle rickshaw, carriage-ing D and three other girls. A younger girl succumbed to that fatal accident and D was injured. She resumed school after some weeks, her hand plastered and she wearing a red and white checkered sweater throughout that year. Though D was back, this accident had changed things between us. An incommunicable silence prevailed and I wondered how one witnessed death from such proximity? Years later, miles away from home and family, I am needing to deal with long distance news and messages of death. But seems there is some resonance to these seemingly polarized experiences. How D dealt with things then, how she normalized, has been a learning for me... an immense one.
A and I were the out of class buddies. Being punished and turned out of the class for talking, was rather common for both of us. Our bonding over talkathon continued as we stood outside, and thus, punishment of being turned out of the class seemed like a boon in disguise to me. Also, the embarrassment quotient was ironed out to the frowning looks of teachers who crossed the hallway, with the solace that nobody would be able to decipher who among the both of us was the primary culprit! This continued, but one day it was different. A was punished and was asked to keep standing. Though, I was happy with her lesser degree of punishment, I was kind of disappointed for having missed on our relentless talk outside the class. As A stood in front of the class, she and I exchanged looks intermittently. Seemed she was trying to express something, which I couldn’t decipher. ..and suddenly, she urinated. The teacher furious, allowed her to go to the washroom. This was 1985 and we were adolescents. A tricky age, where we would be embarrassed to dig our noses in public, but desperate to share our crushes with classmates. A and I never spoke in class ever again. May be for the first time I learnt, the equation of un-equals. Loss of temper of some could cost the others losing their marbles!! Interesting….
How could I ever forget C? Class VII and the teacher initially rebuked me of talking in class and thereafter stated the ‘Kalapani’- I had to sit beside C for the rest of the academic year. She was a brilliant girl, but who cared of those attributes? Recess, I was almost shattered and started weeping profusely. Concerned, she asked, “What happened? Why are you crying?” Chagrined, I almost screamed, “How can you not talk man? How do I spend the year if you do not talk?” The God of Talk had apparently heard my imploring prayers and by the turn of a few months C and I started conversing. We spoke and enjoyed so much that we chose to extend my punishment and thus expressed my choice to continue to sit beside C in Std VIII, IX and Xth, which was readily granted. The only thing which I could not gather was C’s brevity in her written pieces. Anxious especially during the exams, when my fountain pen leaked of despair and my phalanges pained, C could convey exactly the same thing, in a much precise and better way. I tried hard to crack the secret, but alas, what happened was may be some kind of swapping of perceptions. Of late, C calls me genius, when, I know, it is the other way round!!
We talked in cats and dogs then, and yet the deepest remained unsaid......
We converse in multiple fora now, and yet the deepest is never shared......
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