"Nwoo... Nwoo Love, leave her... leave the little one be..."

The young British nanny was struggling to persuade the three years old boy to let go of the baby girl, whom he had very fondly wrapped in his tiny arms, patting on her face in unrhythmic soft smacks.
The baby girl was flinching her face everytime, but yet wasn't objecting, her tiny pink tongue was stuck out, drooling, and it had coated the boy's hand very generously. He was sneezing too, soft sneezes, continually, and it was because the girls thin light brown hair was tickling his nostrils, with no attempts from him to remove those locks from his face.

"Nwoo... You are such a sweet pie, let go I said!"
The nanny continued, gently trying to pull them apart, but he won't let go of her, and she too would prefer to be in his arms.

"Good evening Mistress."

A soft knock on the door had made the nanny turn around, and the sweet smile plastered on her lips widened.
There she was, her Indian mistress, and the most generous of them all.

"Hello Tracy... What's with these two today?"
The woman had walked in, the black silk robe was still hanging from her arm, and Tracy rolled her eyes in a playful dispair.

"Mistress... He won't let go of her, and she just won't get up... He continues to pat her, and she's making him sneeze!"
Tracy was making gestures with her hands, and this sweet complaint made the woman smile.

"Two Peas in a pod, aren't they." She smiled, and Tracy smiled too.

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It was the summer of 1942, right before the schools would close for a merry summer break.
The early summer winds in England were already the red flags of the poppy petals, a living masterpiece of nature. Though they grow unnoticed by so many, they were more to her eye than a monet or any artwork that brings their likeness in beautiful strokes of softest bristles.
Rudhita was watching the trees, seated in the farthest end of the sleepy classroom, her eyes outside the window, watching how the red branches sway in a warming breeze, memorising every detail of this beautiful natural artwork. It was that time when summer had began to blossom into something the body feels as much as the brain, when the emotions catch their thermal updrafts, and Rudhita too was feeling it's heat on her beautiful pink cheeks.

"Hey you... What distracts you today?"

A gruff male voice barked, and along with it flew a chalk, charging right at the young girl, now brought back to the cruel existence of her immediate reality.

"Auch!"
She flinched her face, closing her eyes and the chalk hit right at her forehead, forming an instant red patch on her skin.

The class laughed out loud, in unison, in perfect synchronisation of orchestred humiliation, and fighting the desparate tears in her eyes, Rudhita stood up.

"S... Sorry... I... I was watching the red bra... branches and..."

"Bra... Bra... Branches she said!"
A boy clapped his hands and laughed, mocking her words, and the middle aged teacher rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Would the scenary outside teach you the ways of life young lady?"
The man huffed the words, as another roll of laughter rose inside the classroom.

"Silence... I said..." The teacher yelled, his mocking blue orbs now fixated on the girl standing at the back, fidgeting with her checked skirt, her head bowed down in shame.

"Tell me... Is that why you are in school? Is that why you're in our country? To watch the trees?"
The man had now crossed his arms to his chest in defence, as the age-old brewing vexation suddenly came out from his mouth in spontaneity.
Rudhita didn't reply, neither did she look up, as silent droplets of tears rolled down her eyes.

"That's better... Keep your head down, always... you bloody natives!"
The man growled, and before his next words could reach to her ears, the loud sound of bell reverberated through the walls of the classroom, making the children shout in the glee of freedom.

It was way past recess, and young Anirudh, now a senior at the British Royal Silver High, was searching for her, Rudhita, inside the school building, across the corridor, the lunch hall, before he finally found her seated inside the empty cathedral within the school campus, her head lowered on the praying desk.

"Ruds... Where were you this entire time? You weren't in your class, I looked in the lunch hall too, you weren't there, and I didn't get to eat."
Anirudh had made himself comfortable in the same bench beside her, pushing himself a little closer to the girl, as his hand first poked her waist playfully, and then it moved up automatically on her buried head, slowly caressing her with his company.

"Hey Ruds, you alright?" His forehead had creased already, his black cosy curls floating gently in the breeze, as he very tenderly held the girl's shoulders, pulling her up from the praying desk, her pink weeping face revealed to him at once.

"Rudhita!!" Anirudh gasped, and in a natural instinct he had cupped her face, pulling her close to him, her face now rested on his shoulder.
"What happened? Tell me what happened?"
His voice had a youthful agitation, and Rudhita broke down into jets of tears.

"What is a 'native' Awni?"
She sobbed, and Anirudh frowned, half realising the context of her sorrow.

"Who called you that? Which one... Just name him!" His left hand had balled into a fist, as with his right he kept caressing the girl's head tenderly, she rubbing her nose on his shirt now.

"Mr. Hughes."
She murmured, and Anirudh's hand stopped it's movement on her head.

"Social Science?"
He asked, and Rudhita nodded.

"Did you do something?"

"I was looking outside, the red poppies... And..."

"Were you painting during his lecture?"
He enquired, and both his hands moved up on her back, wrapping her in a protective cocoon.

"No... I did nothing..." Rudhita sobbed.
"What's a native?"

"Us!" Anirudh breathed.
"Someone whom they believe doesn't belong here, in this country."

"But we've been here all our lives Awni."
Rudhita whimpered, her sobs turning into mild protests, and Anirudh exhaled sharply.

"I know... And, it's time they should know too."
He left the girl and got up, a determination on his face, and Rudhita looked up at him in awe.

"What would you do?" She asked fearfully

"Exactly what your Baba would have done Ruds... Let's go."

"Baba? But... But baba isn't here... He's in India, and if they complain then..."

Rudhita was rooted on the bench, filled with another kind of fear, fear of rejection, of apprehension, and Anirudh grabbed her arm and pulled her up forcefully.

"You stay quiet and you lose, you rise up and you have a fifty fifty chance at the fight... Come lets go."

The staff office was on the opposite side of the semi circular academic building, the high grey stone walls giving it a look of some formidable castle, raising soldiers of future inside.

Anirudh was walking, his head held high, confidently crossing the rectangular green patch of land that had separated the admin building from the academic, the same green patch that had seen his unmatched prowess and victories over the last many years.
Anirudh stopped once, infront of the Union Jack, soaring high on an iron pole, and beside it was the black scoreboard, his name still flashing on top.

"Come... And don't be scared... We pay them a fortune to keep us here... Remember that."
Anirudh turned to look at the girl, her hand was firmly held in his, and she nodded her head in response.

"Father Laurence, may I come in."
Very politely, Anirudh asked permission, standing at the threshold of the office room where the Reverend Father would do his school work.
The old was, clad in white, looked up, the white stubble on his chin, and the silver rimmed spectacles were a perfect match to his outgrown chiseled face.

"Yes, son... Is there anything I can help you with?"
He furrowed his eyes and looked at the girl beside him, standing quietly, her red puffy face giving an indication of some trouble that might ruffle the tranquility of his day.

"Not much... I'm just looking for some justice."
Anirudh remarked.

There was a committee set for the trial, Mr. Hughes was seated on a chair at one side of the open field, and on the other side was Rudhita, standing in her usual calm demeanor.
The Reverend was seated too, in the middle, under an old peach tree, and on his sides were the other members of the committee, Sister Green, Mr. Roberts, and Sister Susan.

"We're here to learn, to enlighten ourselves with education, but does education only mean the curriculum that we're meant to follow? Does education not exist outside the pages of our textbooks? Aren't we suppose to get educated from every aspect of live? From nature, even from that beautiful red poppy branches?"

Young Anirudh was standing infront of them all, and his words reflected the clarity of his thoughts, his hands gesturing  movements in sync with his persuasion.

"But, what's the point in coming to school then? You can be well seated in some jungle in India, watching poppies there!"
Mr. Hughes had let out a haughty chuckled, earning a displeased glance from Sister Green.

"Sir, with due respect, we Indians believe in gaining knowledge from everything around us, and thats how we embraced western education too. And, sir... We also believe that our surroundings are our first teachers... The jungles in India would definitely teach is life skills, and I completely agree to that, however, it's a necessity of this decade that the modernity of western education is amalgamated with the rich ancient knowledge of my land, forming ba totalitarian knowledge that can in turn be used for the betterment of humankind, not west, not east, the humankind as a whole."

Anirudh paused, and before the Reverend could speak up, Sister Green broke into soft applaud, standing up from her seat, and Anirudh turned towards her, bowing down in courtesy.

"This boy is outrageous!!" Mr. Hughes huffed, his face crimson in rage, and the Reverend raised his hand to stop him.

"But, the girl was distracted." He objected, and Anirudh stole a glance at Rudhita's pretty expectant face and looked back at the teacher in the eye.

"The girl is an artist too sir... And, we all have witnessed the vastness of her creative imagination before... She has won accolades for our esteemed school too... And, for such a creative imaginative mind is it too much of an offense to look out admiring the beauty of the English summer outside? Imagine, William Wordsworth dragged into a statistics lecture while his mind was weaving 'An Evening Walk'! Imagine Coleridge..."

"Enough of this nonsense!"
Mr. Hughes shouted out loud, and Anirudh paused in between his arguments, his sense of etiquette making him bow at the infuriated teacher in a polite courtesy too.

"Did you throw a chalk at the girl?" Sister Susan asked the man politely, and Hughes stomped his foot.

"I did not!"
He glared at the girl, as Anirudh pulled Rudhita infront of him by her arm.

"The mark on her forehead is saying otherwise Sir... And, I have witnesses who would..."

"Are you a bloody Barrister?"
Mr. Hughes spat out, and Anirudh nodded politely.

"No Sir, not yet... But, I believe you don't need a degree to fight against injustice, to fight for truth... And, the truth is... You have been unfair in your conduct with Rudhita Roy Chowdhury, and you have called her a 'native', and not for the first time, despite the fact that it's her father who pays a hefty seventy percent of the overall Trust money, annually."

"This is an insult! Unbelievable! Either this boy stays... Or me!" Mr. Hughes vibrated in acute vexation, and casting an helpless angry glance at the silent Reverend, he stormed out of the field.

"Anirudh, you have spoken well, but there is a rule to everything... Rudhita was distracted during a lecture, and..."

"Then she should've been corrected with proper reasoning... Not by making her bruised!"

Anirudh replied promptly, and with the Reverend's permission, he walked out of the field too, the girl's hand still held in the firmness of his grip.

"Who is this girl too her father?"
Sister Susan had asked, her eyes fixated on the direction of the two adolescents, and the Father let out a sigh.

"He calls her his family... They were apparently married in India, an year ago, during their last summer trip."

The women had gasped out loud.
"Mother Mary!! Child marriage!! Do they still do it in India these days?" Their eyes were widened, and the Reverend chuckled softly.

"You know the irony... It's the girl's father who framed and passed the law against minor marriage in India."

"Then?"

The Reverend had no answer, he just shrugged, and it was then that Mr. Robert spoke up for the first time.

"But what about Hughes father? Should we suspend the boy, may be for a few days?" He asked, and the Reverend rolled his blue clear eyes at him at once.

"Suspend the boy and lose the match against the Newyork Yankees? Are you out of your mind Robert?" He paused, and sighed thoughtfully.
"It would be much easier to find a social science faculty instead!"

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"Ice-cream?"
Anirudh had held a cone of vanilla softie infront of Rudhita's lips, and it was for the first time that evening that she broke into a broad smile.

"That's my Ruds! Come on... Sadness and you... It just isn't good!"
He brought the cone to his own lips and licked the ice happily.

"Heya... It's mine!" She protested, and Anirudh rubbed it on her nose, gently, making a blotch of melted ice-cream rest on her sharp nose.

"It's ours...!" He winked.
"Money for just one cone Ruds... Sorry!"

No more explanation was needed, as with instinctive promptness, Rudhita wrapped her arm in his, resting her head on his shoulder, and Anirudh held the cone in his hand, countering their turns to happiness.

"We'll always be like this... "

"Like what? Sharing one ice-cream?" Anirudh lapped at the cream happily.

"Ahan... Even when you grow up and become a Barrister like Baba... And I'll be a paint..."

"And you'll be my wife Ruds... Don't you know that already?"
Anirudh remarked plainly, making the girl smile.

"Baba said what happened in India wasn't a real marriage... It's all a bad practice, and we should fight against it, and..."

"I know... I know... Child marriage is an evil... Bla bla bla..." Anirudh held the last of the biscuit cone infront of Rudhita's mouth, as she quickly took it in, munching away at once.

"But, when I grow up, and I have a lot of money... Then... Then you'll be my wife Ruds, and we'll stay together all day long... No Tracy to nag at you... And, I won't have to sit in Maa's flower shop in the evening, making vases."
Anirudh let out another sigh, and Rudhi wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Done... " She grinned, and Anirudh looked into her eyes, up close, a strange kind of warm feeling creeping in his heart.

"Ruds, you won't ever leave me right?" He suddenly asked, his own voice sounded a little different, and Rudhita looked up at his face.

"Awni?" Her eyes had narrowed at him too, and suddenly his lips alight on her cheek like a dew freckled petal caught in a breeze, so soft and with the smallest hint of coolness.
Rudhita's face had flushed in a crimson hue.
It wasn't the first time, but it was the first it felt different, to both of them, their lips touching each other's cheeks in a friendly innocence, but in each other's eyes they didn't miss the hint of emotion, friendship, and so much more.

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I wrote this because I just wanted to write something different... It doesn't mean I'll write less of UP, or that I'll give away spoilers from the actual plot... No... I won't...
I won't probably updated this one anytime sooner, may be next when I'll crave to write something different again...

But, framing this one felt like a breather I needed.
Do let know how this was.