How does mathematical probabilities correlate with real life? There is a definite success or failure. And nothing else. Sometimes our own society looks at us with a mathematical viewpoint. If you win the race, you are a winner, and if you lost, you lost. There is no in between for average people like me. It doesn't take into consideration that some people ran because they had no other choice or that they ran because they'd rather run than be left behind. So, In between the man who didn't even try and the man who came first, there are several heartbeats like mine.

I was beginning to understand that sending resume after resume was just a waste of paper and time and it was as if the ceiling agreed, with rhythmic footsteps from the house above, that spread to my entire house like a sound effects of a B grade detective movie. I immediately went upstairs to give that person a piece of my mind.

When the door opened, my breath was knocked out of me. For I exactly knew who that person was. 

If life was a race, he came first, even if it involved pushing others back. I'd never spoken to him at school, since our kind never mingled with each other. Last I heard about him was when he got into the country's most elite college, and I'd just assumed that I'd see him in the future, in the science column of a paper, probably famous for disproving theorems or in a managerial position in a IT company and getting the highest salary package. 

So, seeing him here, in this poor part of town, in this dingy apartment, made me laugh. Karma was funny. After everything he had achieved, he and I were the same somehow, right now.

"You!" He asked me, probably recognizing me.

"Yes. Me." I said.

"What?"

"Don't walk loudly, it causes an echo downstairs. Keep it down." I said.

"Fine." He said, grumpily.

I turned to go back. 'Wait' I heard a voice. I turned back again.

"We were schoolmates, right? Can you please help me with something? Please? Very urgently required." He asked me Even though we were once classmates,. he didn't ask how I was doing, but merely wanted extract help from me.

I was not the refusing kind, so imagine my surprise when the 'help' asked was moving a really big box full of handicrafts, fans, crochets, kites and whatever to another side of the room. I wouldn't have been surprised if it was a box full of books, or a box full of medals. His entire house was littered with handicraft papers, something which I hadn't expected.

"Thank you, very much, Sharmi." He said.

My heart thumped, not because of the fact that he'd remembered my name. But due to the genuine, heartfelt way he'd conveyed it. In this clockwork world, it's rare to find someone who say things and mean it.

"No problem. What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"Oh me? I just moved here two days ago."

"But why?" I asked him. Why are you here? You should be in a five bedroom house with French windows and an infinity pool on the seventh floor, by the side of the city's best known roads.

"It's closer to where I work." He said, as if it was obvious.

For the past few years, I'd gone through a social incognito mode, so I wasn't really aware of what these people were doing. Perhaps he was doing some kind of social experiment, where in he tried to survive on a limited budget and poor accommodation.

"Oh!" I said.

"You don't seem too happy to see me." He said.

"That's because, you haven't asked how I've been doing till now, weren't we classmates?" I said.

An amused look fell on his face, and the corners of his mouth tugged into a imperfectly perfect grin. "I thought, since we're going to run into each other all the time, what's the need for formality? I already knew you lived here."

There are two kinds of people. One- the kind who take things at their own pace. Two-who let the world dictate their pace. I definitely did not belong to the former, and he definitely didn't belong to the later.

"Oh!" was all I could say. "If you knew that I lived here too, already, why didn't you greet me before?"

"I told you. Why would I need to be formal if we are going to run into each other all the time?"

There was simply no point in arguing again, and I simply nodded. He'd still had the amused grin on him when I'd bidden him farewell. What was he even doing?

Later that evening, I stopped by the rudimentary playground nearby. I had several little friends who made me play with them everyday. The games ranged from comes sports like football to house favourites like hide and seek. These kids, often came with their parents, studied in the nearby school for the special children. These kids were as pure as the purest water trickling off a waterfall in the mountain. With their kindness and innocence I often forgot my own miseries like not having a job.

"Do you want to come to our school day next week? We're dancing." One of them said, and swayed her hips.

"Oh! I'd love to!" I said. No one could deny such a sweet request.

The stomping of foot resumed the next day again, and I went upstairs to give him a piece of my mind yet again. He was a little annoying. "What's your problem?" I said, when he opened the door.

He was a sight. Bits of papers were stuck to his fingers and his clothes were covers with globs of multicolour paint. It was a sight I'd never ever think of.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, genuinely curious.

He wavedfor me to come inside. His entire floor was covered in a giant paper which he'd been painting, a forest scene to be precise.

"Sorry for the ruckus. I am painting this background for the dance."

"What dance?"

"For the school day function, next week. Could you help me paint it, please?" He asked me.

"Don't tell me you work at the school?" I asked him.

"Yes."

"And you are going to extract help from me every time I come here?"

"Yes."

As I had nothing against it, and because I wanted to contribute a little myself, I helped him paint the wallpaper. I took me several hours, and I wasn't very good at it, but he kept promising that I was doing a good job.

"Say, didn't you study in an elite college? What are you doing here?"

"I.. I have my reasons." He said. So he had certain reasons why he worked here, that weren't okay to share with just anyone. I found it weird, but I nodded anyway. Didn't people(who'd left their high profile jobs and joined the public service) say things like 'because they wanted to'? So his answer saying that he had a reason struck me as odd.

"Anyway, it's very noble of you." I said. "I am just downstairs if you need any more help."

His face contorted into a tiny grin, and his eyes had that mischievous sparkle that I was beginning to notice. "Actually, I do. The school has this really big plain wall. Any idea to make it fun for the kids?"

"You can always paint some interesting characters or superheroes." I said.

"We have that already. Any other ideas?"

"Let me think about it." I said.

"Sure."

..

I met my friend that Sunday. I told her about this guy who had had everything in the world but had given up every thing he'd had.

"Are you sure, that he's doing it for the cause?" She asked me.

"What do you mean?"

"One of my cousins volunteered at an NGO because it would look good on his Business School portfolio. These elite colleges dig things like that." She said.

"Really? "

"Yep. And he never went back to that place again." She said.

What! But he looked like he was enjoying them. He did many things that he didn't have to. And he always had a soft smile on his face. What she said wasn't applicable to him. Or that's what I liked to believe. But he'd said he'd had a reason. What kind of a reason was it? And why was he being so secretive about it?

He knocked on my door and brought with him another gigantic poster for us to colour in. I couldn't resist the urge to ask him about it.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course." He said.

"Why are you here?"

"Why can't I be?" He said, with a confused tone, surprised that this issue would bother me still.

"Previously, you said that you had 'reasons'. What is your reason for you being here, and teaching in that particular school?"

"For my career." He said. 

That's what I thought!

"Yep exactly! I knew it. I really thought you were a good one. Why are you like this?"

"Why can't I just do it? And why are you being rude about it?" He said, as if he didn't understand anything that was going on. Perhaps he needed to be given an explanation and put in his place .

"Sorry to say this, but I hate people like you. I hate the fact that you think a few months of helping others would put you up a pedestal, when in real life, you don't even care at all. You use these innocent children as tools and toys, so that you get extra lines onyour bio data. So that everyone would praise you, what a great soul you are. When in real life, you don't even care."

"I care." He said calmly.

"How? And why?"

"Because that is my school. I bought it."

I felt like I'd been slapped. "W-what?"

"It's always been my dream to be a teacher. And that's why I studied hard. So I could earn and improve the school myself. When I found out that it was a little low on funds, I bought it."

"So, the 'reason' that you mentioned, it was this?" I asked him, stupefied.

"Yes."

"The career thing also..?"

"Yes." He replied.

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because you'd think I was a fool. But apparently you didn't." He said.

I ran.

I wanted the ground to swallow me into a hole somewhere I could disappear forever. "Hey, wait" I heard from behind, but I completely avoided him after that, for a week, for every time I saw him, the memory of our conversation came into my mind, and my cheeks flushed hot with my embarrassment. How prejudiced I had been! 

I could hear occasional footsteps from the floor above, and they caused quite a ruckus as the days passed by. That was right, the school day was approaching. That gave me an idea.

...

The kids jumped around excitedly as I nailed the plates onto the walls. And they helped me colour them so they look cute (and disguise the fact that, they were actual plates  one ate food from). I'd been so engrossed that I didn't notice him standing right in front of me.

"W-when did you come?" I asked him.

"A while ago." He said. 

 The plan was to just do it and sneak out so I'd never face him again, and preferably to a new flat.

"What are these?" He asked, in an amused voice as he pointed towards the plates nailed on the wall from the smallest to the largest in a straight line.

"Umm. This. This is a xylophone wall." I said, and took out a stick and stuck them linearly, and there was a loud Chang that resonated across the room. The sound made the children jump and they huddled around me to try it out.

A big grin contorted his face, and his eyes gave off that familiar sparkle. "Very interesting idea. Are those plates from your kitchen?"

"Umm. Yes."

"What are you going to eat from, then?" He asked me.

"I-didn't really think much about it." I said, embarrassed. I was an impulsive person.

"We should share then. I only have one plate. Perhaps we should eat from the same plate?" He broke into a full smile, and his eyes became little moons.

"Umm. Yes. Listen, I am so sorry about before! Forgive me please? " I said, folding my hands and bowing in a mock gesture.

"If you are really sorry, work here with me."

"Okay. Yes?"

"And let's share our plates."

"Okay. Yes?"

"No more complaining about the footsteps."

"No."

"No? Then we have no other choice but to live together." He said.

"What? Why should we?"

"To save money for the school."

"Then yes." I said. "We should, in that case. But I have a question first."

He gave an amused smile at my never ending questions. "Shoot."

"If life was a race, why would you run?"

"Because I like to. And what about you?" He asked me.

"To help you get up when you fall." I said. 

We held hands tightly and looked towards the ridiculous xylophone wall. Our lives were never going to be the same again.

 "Then, in that case,  we should probably walk together. But, before that, might I say that your xylophone wall is really noisy?"

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