To What We Once Were

I still remember that day. Bright and clear

As if it had happened just yesterday.

It was raining cats and dogs, the clouds looking pretty sinister and there was no sign of it breaking into sunshine. I was standing at the school porch, willing the downpour to stop for at least fifteen minutes so I could dash down home. All the others had gone home, snuggled into their raincoats or huddled under the umbrellas; and no one asked me as to how I would be going.

They never asked.

But I was used to it by now. In fact, I would have fainted with sheer shock if anyone did ask…sounds strange, right? I mean, what’s the big deal about sharing an umbrella or giggling and gossiping all the way back home?

It is…at least for me, that is.

No, I am not a lone wolf. Nor some anti-social cracker…I am just ignored.

What does she think of herself? All those airs and graces are bound to be fake.

Showing off her riches…what does she think? Are we peasants hungry for food???

Why doesn’t she go away? Acting all cute and vulnerable around the guys…she’s so desperate for attention!

Initially, those whispers drove me to tears. But now, I am stronger…and lonelier.

And presently in a dilemma.

My watch had its hands on 4:30 pm…almost an hour past the last bell. The security guy gave me a puzzled look.

“Are you waiting for someone, miss?” he asked kindly.

“Not exactly…just waiting for the rain to stop or slow down at the very least,” I sighed.

“It won’t stop that soon, you know. Why don’t you call up your parents to pick you up?”

I shook my head.

“Dad is out of town and Mom is the middle of some critical operation at the hospital…which means I have to go home on my own.”

“Your wish, kid. But do hurry up, it will soon go dark.”
**

It was five but the rains showed no sign of abating. Taking in a deep breath, I dashed out of the porch, almost letting out a loud gasp as the cold drops the size of ping-pong balls assaulted me. I clutched my satchel tightly to my chest to protect its contents, I ran towards the general direction of my house.

Within minutes, I was soaked to my skin and frozen in equal measure. As I rounded the corner, I spied the shrine which I passed every day on my way to school. I was panting, not to mention I was shivering like a leaf. Not thinking much, I ran in and stood in the prayer hall which was blissfully dry.

And empty.

“It came down pretty sudden, eh?”

I whirled a complete about turn. Maybe I wasn’t alone.

I saw some seated beside the idol, looking as soaked as I was. He too wore the Mayflower High School uniform–white half-sleeved shirt, navy blue trousers and tie, black shoes and navy socks. His black hair was plastered all over his head and as he looked up, I realized with a jolt it was him.

Karan Rathore.

The only one who talked with me in school.

The only guy I liked.

“Hmm…” I stuttered as I felt my cheeks warm up despite the cold.

He blinked before looking away.

Karan was quiet, shy and well-mannered; not something you would find in any other eighth grader. He wasn’t very tall, nor was he as beefed up. Lanky and awkward, he strove to stay out of trouble as much as he could and was never involved in those impromptu fights during lunch.

He was shorter than me by a couple of inches with a mop of dark hair neatly combed and arranged. His attire was always impeccable to say the least; shirt properly tucked in and laces tied perfectly. His amber eyes were large and expressive though his face rarely conveyed any emotion. He was fair and his skin almost looked untouched by the sun.

But he talked with me.

“Do you live here?” I asked, walking up to a pillar and sat down facing him.

“No, of course not. I am just taking shelter–it’s raining like apocalypse outside and I have no intention of drowning to death yet.”

My face went red again…Was I dumb or something? What did I ask?

“I live down the next road.” he answered, still looking outside.

A sudden draft of air blew through the shrine, making me shiver.

“You are soaked through!” he exclaimed, looking at me directly for the first time. He rummaged through his bag and threw me a towel.

I looked at him questioningly.

“That’s my gym towel. Don’t worry, I haven’t used it.”

I began rubbing my hair dry, feeling the dry warmth of the thick towel.

“Or maybe I might have used it, just once…you know.”

I stopped in mid-action, staring at him.

“EWWWW!!!!” I yelled, throwing it back at him as he laughed.

“I was just kidding!”

His laughter…I just realized…in all these years, I had never heard him laugh. And it was a beautiful one…happy, carefree, innocent…
**

The next day as I was walking down to the library, I ran into Karan. I pouted angrily, still sore at the joke.

He grinned back.

“Um…Ananya…you see, I have to do this article on the fair at Market Road for the school paper…so I was thinking…” suddenly, the grin vanished from his face and was replaced with an embarrassed blush.

“You know…like if you are free tomorrow evening…we can…er…”

My face went red…was he asking me out?

“Not a date!” he practically screamed, earning a couple of curious glances from the other students.

“I just need to write an article on it and no one’s free enough to accompany me tomorrow…so, if…” he left it hanging in mid-air.

I nodded, a smile slowly working up my face.

“Tomorrow at Rosewood Tower, 5:00 pm. Let’s meet up there.”

“Okay,” I replied calmly but my heart jumped with joy. I was going out…with a friend!!!

**

Tarun was someone who was born to irritate. He must have overheard our conversation and badgered me to no end about it the next day.

“Is it true? Are you and Karan going out?” he kept on pestering after school, following me as I dashed down the stairs. I tried to ignore him but I was slowly losing my temper by every passing minute.

Before he could say anything anymore, I whipped around angrily.

“Stop pestering me, you jerk. That’s why I hate you…I hate all boys!” I yelled, seething.

“Really?” said a soft voice from behind Tarun.

My voice died in my throat. It was Karan. Before I could say anything, he dashed down the steps. I gave Tarun a murderous glare before setting out to follow. But he was no where to be seen.

And he didn’t come to Rosewood Tower, though I waited for him till 7:00 pm.

The next day, he wasn’t in class.

“Did you hear, he left town!”

“Any reason?”

“Not that I know of…”

Gone was the only person with whom I talked.

Gone was the only person who talked to Ananya Mathur, the eighth-grader.

**

I was shunned in middle-school because I was different from the rest. I scored good grades and I fitted in the universal definition of cute–I had shoulder-length wavy black hair, almond shaped amethyst eyes, a heart-shaped face with a proper nose, a dainty chin and full, crimson lips. I wasn’t too tall or too short and was neither plump nor rakishly slim. My Dad owned a soft-toy factory while Mom was a pretty famous surgeon–which meant that we were financially comfortable. And Mom was particular about social graces and ingrained them in me at a very early age.

Thus I was a respectable, intelligent, cute and courteous young lady–who was ignored by the other girls of the class. Yep, the teachers adored me but then again, you don’t have sleepovers or go shopping with them, do you?

She’s got that cute attitude and she scores well…butters up every teacher in the vicinity. It’s not fair!

But now, I was sixteen and all set to start afresh at Middleton Higher Secondary School. And here, I will make new friends and loads of awesome memories.

How, you ask?

Because Middleton will know Ananya Mathur as the crazy, insane tomboy with a demonic appetite…not the petite feminine soft-spoken girl of Mayflower.

**

“PASS ON THE SANDWICH, JERK!”

“TAKE IT YOURSELF, YOU IDIOT!”

It was break and the scene at the canteen could rival that of a refugee camp–scores of students fought to get their food as the canteen staff tried to appease everyone as quickly as possible.

I fought my way to the front, not caring whether I stepped on a foot or two. I was hungry and I needed my lunch NOW!

“TWO SANDWICHES AND A BLUEBERRY MUFFIN!” I yelled over the din.

Some ten minutes later, I emerged from the melee with my lunch, a wild grin on my face. It sure felt victorious to obtain lunch from such a riot…

I ran back to my class to find Aashi and Shloka sitting at their usual place, setting out their lunch boxes.

Aashi stared at the food packets in my arms.

“You sure eat a lot, Ananya,” she remarked, setting aside the books to make room on the desk.

“I am hungry,” I replied, shrugging.

“But that stuff’s fattening…” Shloka piped in, eyeing the muffin.

“Who cares whether I am fat or not? I love them, so I am eating them. End of story.”

Aashi sighed exasperatedly as I proceeded to dig in.

Aashi and Shloka were my friends and we were pretty inseparable most of the time–we shopped together, had lunch together and even had movie sleepovers. It was fun…something which I had missed out on in middle school.

I mingled with everyone here–I was the class clown, the dare-devil. Girls were friendly and the guys were often scared; well they should be since they were mostly the target of all my practical jokes. I had my hair cut shorter–it now reached up to the nape of my neck and was stubbornly untidy. The black blazer was eternally unbuttoned, the black-and-grey striped tie askew, socks wrinkled and sloppy and shoes with laces on the verge of getting untied any minute.

Yes, I was the big bad girl with attitude–not any soft-spoken, wishy-washy, girly-girly, well…girl.

And people liked me.

And apparently, I liked this new me too…maybe I was a bit too prim and proper back then. Guess I should have loosened up or something.

As I went outside the class to throw the food-wraps into the bin, I heard someone yell.

“…Rathore…!!!”

I jumped, then admonished myself. It was Shivam Rathore, our Physical Education teacher.

It was not him.

Mr. Rathore was twenty-two and fresh out of college–tall and well-built, he was a national level football player of great repute and the boys were huge fans of him. His easy manner of conversation and the ability to make people laugh earned him the reputation of the most popular teacher.

And I was angry about the fact that every time anyone called him out, I would get butterflies in my stomach. Thinking he has returned.

As if.

I stuffed the plastic bags in the bin and stomped back into class, some part of my mind still reliving those moments which I spent with Karan Rathore.

**
The winter term was hectic and worse than the summer term–exams and mid-year assessments for one thing. Not to mention the usual avalanche of project and paper submissions. I was pretty spent by December.

The results were as usual, not very remarkable. I was the class topper…what’s new in that? Apart from the usual ribbing from Aashi and starry-eyed looks from Shloka, it was pretty normal. As we trooped back upstairs to our class chatting, I unintentionally bumped into someone coming down.

“Sorry,” a deep voice mumbled before going down. As craned my neck to see him, I grew pale.

That same black, slightly curly hair.

That same slouchy way of walking.

That lanky frame.

The height and the voice was all wrong but then, it had been two years.

Could it be…

“Earth to Ananya…are you listening?” Aashi’s voice seemed to be far away.

“I think I left my bag down…I will be back in a minute.”

Before they could ask anything, I dashed downstairs.

**

I found him on his way to the sports complex.

It had to be him…no one in the world could walk in that slouchy manner.

I was about to call him when…

“OI SINGHANIA!!! GET THE BALL ALREADY!!” yelled a couple of boys from behind.

He turned his head backwards. Towards me.

And grinned.

The eyes were that unusual amber…but as the boys tackled him, he fought back playfully.

No, its not him. Besides, he’s Rathore.

Thank goodness I didn’t call him out.

I sighed as I walked back to class. Did I miss him that much?

**

I was class rep and I was sick of the position. Our school had a charity fundraiser for the nearby orphanage in the afternoon and it became my freaking job to clear up the mess. By the time I left campus, it was almost six in the evening.

I yawned, stretching my limbs to the fullest. The term was almost at its end and the year was drawing close. Mom and Dad were planning for going on a cruise for the new year party…its going to be fun!

As I skipped down the lane, I stopped at the shrine. The lane was empty so, mustering up my courage, I stepped in.

It was the same as that fateful day two years ago. And I felt surprisingly disappointed.

What? Did I expect to find him here?

As I turned around to leave, someone spoke.

“It came down pretty sudden, eh?”

I froze.

And I slowly turned to the source.

It was that guy.

My eyes grew wide as saucers.

“Rats?” I squeaked. (Rats was Karan’s nickname at school).

“I am Karan Singhania,” he said slowly as he stood leaning against the pillar…the same pillar where I sat that day.

“I am sorry…I thought you were someone I knew,” I said, embarrassed.

Goodness, what’s wrong with me?

“And you are Ananya Mathur from Mayflower High,” he said, a slow smile working up his face.

“And you knew Karan Rathore.”

I was puzzled. What’s going on?

To my amazement, he laughed out loud.

“I never thought it would take you this long to recognize me!” he said, laughing.

“I know I have changed but this is seriously ridiculous, Ananya!”

I clapped my hands on my mouth, flabbergasted. This cannot be…

“Hello Ananya, it’s been a long time,” he said as he began walking towards me.

He put his hand forward, bending low to see my face. Wasn’t he shorter than me?

“I apologize for not telling you earlier, but after you bumped into me today, I had to tell you.”

Of course…that is why he smiled back then!

I mentally slapped myself.

Stupid stupid stupid!

My face was redder than a ripe tomato…the second term was approaching it’s end and I didn’t recognize him.

And if I hadn’t bumped into him then, I might have remained oblivious to this fact till I finished school. Man, I rule the kingdom of idiots.

I shook his hand, still staring at my toes. God, this was embarrassing.

“I didn’t know that the school shoes were that good-looking,” he commented as we walked out into the lane.

“What else can I do,” I said slowly.

“I am embarrassed like hell.”

He laughed softly, making me stare at him. Unlike that other laugh, this one held that eighth-grade aura. Unbidden, the memories of that day rushed into my mind.

“Why the change in surname?” I asked quickly in an attempt to shut down the dam of emotions from overflowing.

To my surprise, his eyes grew darker and he stopped.

“That was one of the reasons I didn’t come forward to meet you the last two terms; I knew you will ask this question.”

“Well…uh…if you don’t wanna say…” I stuttered, feeling that I might have crossed the line.

“My parents got divorced.”

**

“Tensions were up in my house almost everyday; fights, make-ups…the living room was more of a warzone. Bro was in college in another city so he escaped the worst, but I had to endure it every day after school.”

His bangs hid his eyes as he shuffled his hands in his pockets…the way he used to stand when he was troubled.

But this was all news to me; I or for the matter no one in Mayflower High knew about this.

He ran his fingers through his hair and stared straight at me.

“That day, at Rosewood Tower, you waited for me, right?” he asked softly.

I nodded, tears stinging my eyes as I remembered.

“I waited for you…I waited so long!” I burst out, letting out the words I had wanted to say to him but hadn’t got the opportunity.

“I thought…I thought that after hearing what I told Tarun, you felt bad…” I sniffled, using my sleeve to brush of the tears.

“That you hate boys?” he said with a ghost of a smirk.

I nodded.

“Idiot.”

As I lifted my head, I found him standing next to me. Flicking my forehead lightly with his index finger, he said, “That day when I returned home, I found mom all packed up and ready. We left town that day…and all the way, I could just imagine how bad you might have felt when you realized I did not come.”

“So, the change in last name,” I concluded, looking ahead.

He shrugged in agreement.

“We never came back…when mom died in April, bro brought me back. Dad had passed away mere months after the divorce…thankfully, bro got a job to take care of himself. He stayed at the old house…the last two years had been a mess and frankly, I don’t know what I am doing.”

“I am sorry,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be. My parents never had a happy marriage in the first place…and dad…well, it’s best I don’t talk about him. Shivam and I were fond of mom, though he opted to stay with dad. I was angry with him initially; now I realize he didn’t want to impose himself on mom.”

“Shivam? As in Shivam Rathore? Our P.E. teacher?” I said, startled.

“Yes,” he said, nonplussed.

“Don’t just say ‘yes’ like that!” I said. Did this guy bump his head or something?

“Yes?” he countered, now smirking.

“And don’t make it into a question, you idiot!” I said angrily.

His brother was my teacher all this time and I never realized it? I kept wondering as to where he was and the answer was right in front of me…what sort of a prize dunce am I?

He grinned, slinging an arm over my shoulder.

“Okay, we are officially late and I promised Bro that I am making dinner today…”

“You? Making dinner?” I guffawed, earning a rap on my head.

“So? I bet you cannot differentiate between a spatula and a spoon,” he shot back but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

“And I bet you don’t know the basic difference between rice and daal,” I countered.

“Rice is white, daal’s yellow,” he replied thoughtfully.

“Seriously? That’s the only difference you could think of?” I said, giving him a mock salute.

“OI!”

**

It was January and the beginning of the Spring term. Our classes shuffled every term and I was surprised to see Karan lounging on the desk by the window as I walked into my class.

“I see…I get to be in the class with Ghajini,” he said smirking.

I stuck out my tongue at him.

“Ghajini?” Shloka asked, puzzled. She was short and slim with waist-length hair tied into a plait down her back. She had light brown eyes which often grew bigger than dinner plates when she encountered something…well, something strange.

“Nothing, Shloka. But some background noise, that’s all.” I huffed before settling down in my desk. Shloka looked at him, then back at me before shrugging and walking away.

A few minutes later, Aashi dumped her bag on the seat next to me with a loud sigh. She was tall and slender with shoulder length wavy hair, onyx eyes and was pretty fair. But her looks hid the fact that she was an extremely talented athlete.

“Late?” I guessed.

She nodded as she dropped into the chair.

“Missed the damn bus by seconds…ran all the way to the auto-stand but that creep would drop me only till the main road ending.”

“Am glad we are in the same class.” she added, smiling.

“Me too.”

**

Karan had changed a lot. He played football of all things, interacted more with the others, pulled my leg at every other opportunity. That soft-spoken, quiet guy had all but disappeared.

After the P.E. class, I was stuffing the balls in the broom cupboard when I spied Karan at the water fountain. I quickly went to him.

“Um…” I said, unsure how to ask.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before turning towards me.

“I have changed, Ananya. Just the way you have,” he said matter-of-factly.

“But…” I began.

“I had liked you back then,” he said softly.

“Me too,” I mumbled.

“But we both have changed a lot. We cannot go back to what we once were. We both have moved on. And it is better that way.”

I stared at him, shocked. His amber eyes bore no emotion.

“Ananya, it’s all in the past. We are aquaintances…hell, we don’t even know each other’s favourite colour, as a matter of fact. We can’t even call ourselves friends…”

I stepped back, not knowing what to do. One moment he teases me, the other moment he behaves so distantly. What’s wrong with him?

“We are classmates, Ananya. Nothing more.”

With that, he walked away.

**

“Ananya Mathur, Karan Singhania, Aashi Sharma, Shloka Mehra and Aryan Talwar–you all have been selected to participate in the All City Treasure Hunt. It is tomorrow…assemble in the Games Hall sharp at 9:30 am tomorrow. No dilly-dallying! Class dismissed!”

Treasure Hunt? Here I was dreaming of a Sunday morning spent lazing in bed.

“Man proposes, God disposes, eh?” Karan said, rapping my head lightly.

It was already two weeks into the term and the work pile was steadily growing. And I was at my wit’s end with the entrance exam preparation…what made me think I wanted to be a doctor???

“Man, I forfeit,” I groaned, resting my head on my desk.

“That will not do Ananya!” Aryan said, leaping in excitement. Aryan Talwar was currently the captain of the school football team and, to my chagrin and annoyance, was best buds with Karan. He was tall and well-built with tanned skin and short, dark brown hair. His black eyes with an omnipresent twinkle and his upturned nose lend him the appearance of someone up to mischief.

And he did nothing to deny that.

Tomorrow’s gonna be one long day.

**

The woods on the outskirts of the city was the location of the Treasure Hunt. The stupid event was held every year; seven teams each from all the fifteen high schools participated in this madness. Middleton High won one position every year and I was getting a funny feeling that this year, we might put a fullstop on our school’s winning streak.

Armed with a map, we set out on the hunt.

And promptly got lost.

“I am telling you, I am seeing this tree for perhaps the fifth time,” Aashi said angrily, flopping down on the grass.

“And I am not putting another step in any direction unless we figure out exactly where the hell we are!”

“She’s got a point,” I added, leaning against the tree trunk, zipping up my jacket for warmth. We were clad in black track pants and white jackets with black lining, our school’s games uniform. The chilly January wind made me shiver involuntarily–as I was late in the morning, I forgot to pack in a muffler and an extra jacket.

“Here,” said Karan, throwing me his parka. I caught it, surprised.

“Wear it–we don’t want you freezing to death.”

“But what about you?” I asked.

“I brought in an extra…I knew someone would be dumb enough to forget.”

I slipped in my hands into the parka, reveling in its warmth.

Aryan and Shloka were arguing over the map while Aashi stubbornly sat…we might be lucky to find the finishing line before nightfall.

An hour of squabbling later, we came to a consensus as to where we were and which path to follow. It was already noon and all of us were pretty hungry. We sat down in the clearing and gobbled up our sandwiches quickly–we just wanted to this over with.

“Don’t worry folks,” said Aryan in an attempt to sound upbeat.

“We are making good time and we might just end up with a position!”

That boy did daydream a lot.

Karan was pretty quiet throughout the trek, just making a couple of noncommital remarks now and then. I fell in step by his side and asked, “What’s up, Rats?”

“Nothing. And I am Karan Singhania, not Rats.”

“You are pretty quiet for someone for whom nothing’s up,” I pressed on.

“Nope…just thinking. What if we had gone to that fair? What if the divorce never happened? What if dad was still alive?”

I looked at him, seeing him clearly for the first time. All that ribbing, laughing, leg-pulling…it was just a cover. A wall to keep himself protected…from himself.

“You could always talk, you know,” I said softly. Aryan and Shloka continued to argue over the map as they walked ahead and Aashi had the common sense to not eavesdrop.

“I never knew dad was an alcoholic until some months back…Shivam told me. Mom tried to protect me from him…all those times I grumbled of homework, she was fighting for me. She knew she wasn’t fit enough to work…she had cardiomyopathy. Meaning strenous jobs or sudden emotional upheavel could be fatal. Still she did every one of those things…keeping enough money in the bank so that I could complete school no matter what happened. She was such a nice, beautiful person. But she never experienced the beauty of this world…that’s unfair, isn’t it?”

“Nothing’s fair, Karan. But moping like this won’t help either. At least you brothers have each other…that’s a blessing, isn’t it? Besides, you aren’t alone. I am there for you…so’s everyone else. I might not know your favourite colour but I do know this–you might be a crazed-up symbol of insanity at times but deep down, you are a very good person.”

“And you are a very good preacher,” he smirked, the lines on his brow lightening up.

I huffed, but then smiled.

“OI!” Aryan yelled, making us jump.

In the distance, I could make out the red ribbon of the finishing line…and an empty podium.

And three teams already running towards it.

“THE RACE IS STILL ON! LET’S WIN IT!!!” he yelled before setting off on a sprint. Aashi followed along with Shloka, laughing madly.

Karan looked at me, grinning.

“THE LAST ONE BUYS US ICECREAM!!!” he yelled as he ran off.

“OI OI! WAIT UP, FOLKS!!!” I screamed as I joined in the melee.

Maybe he has grown taller.

Maybe his voice had become deeper.

Maybe he was no longer that shy, soft-spoken middle-schooler.

Maybe I didn’t know his favourite colour.

But that didn’t mean we couldn’t go back to what we once were. Sure, we have changed a lot and maybe have moved on in our lives.

But that doesn’t mean we forget those happy memories.

We cannot go back to the past…but we write our own future, don’t we?

__END__