I met Radha Dubey's annoying version in ninth grade.

Initially we had nothing to do with the new transfer student. She gave Ritwik a hard time in remaining the teacher's favorite class clown. But you see, Ritwik's a pretty sporting guy. Second hand embarrassment for the girl bothered him. So our classroom basically became a poorly executed stand-up show with forced laughter—because who doesn't like wasting the math teacher's time?

But on days like this particularly slow Wednesday, when the last period was P.E., and everyone had yet to return to the classroom, confrontations were how we initiated a conversation.

"What?"

"What?"

"Aise kya dekh raha hai?"

"Nothing." Except for the fact that I had witnessed her pull a number of bands out of her bag and secure it around her wrist. Forearm half full with a third of her own collection.

I continued on my path to the last bench in the third row. First week of August turned people into rating services. It was a popularity thing—more the number of friendship bands profited, higher the rank on the cool kids index. It mattered to everyone but between me and the boys, it was a given that Vansh was the charmer.

What I had seen Ishita Gupta do though, was secretly what I had come to do myself. It was not exactly cheating, was it, if we considered ourselves our own bestfriend?

Don't psychoanalyze me now. I'll need a real therapist for the answer.

Anyways, back then, mimicking the actions in the presence of a semi-attentive audience was going to be difficult. After garnering sixty-six bands organically, I needed like five more for the day to not feel like a total loser.

"Kitne mile?" I asked as casually as I could. 

Ishita played with a bead slinging on a stray thread, pretending to count mentally. "Fifty-two." Hah, loser. "Tujhe?"

"Sixty-six."

I turned around to watch her nod as casually as she could. "I don't really care much about these stupid bands anyway."

"Me too. Ye sab toh chhote bacche karte hai."

Ten minutes and a final bell later, we ended up exchanging bands. Three each. Chunky, pinky, crystal gemsy for radium, rubber, glow-in-the-dark.

Clearly, we were bad at math and lacked common sense, but our logic worked. I ranked in the top five, Ishita was no more in the bottom ten, and we each went our own way.

Before you correct me, listen—I didn't say the ways were separate. If you know Ishita at all, you know that's just not possible. And if there's anything in the whole wide world I do not want the credit for, it's introducing her to the group.

I'll straight up deny it.

"Stop being an ass, god damnit," she barges in through the door. "What the fuck have you done to this place? Does Vickey even know you're here?"

"That's how surprises work, Shitty," I shrug on a t-shirt before she gets hormonal as well. "We don't tell them."

Heaving a sigh, she starts picking up stray cushions from the floor, putting it back in their place like she's OCD or some shit. I grab a granola from the kitchen because it's nine in the morning and I'm starving.

"I don't think this is healthy, Karan."

"Tujhe offer kar bhi nahi raha hoon."

"I meant this," she circles her index finger around the semi-arranged living room. "I heard things are a little edgy between you and uncle, but hiding out here just to avoid confrontation?"

"It's not about my Dad."

"Then it's about Arvika, in which case I'm even more shocked to see that it's affecting you itna zyada."

I pause to munch down the muesli bar before denying her second accusation as well. "You're overthinking it."

She tilts her head to the side with an expression that screams pity—and it only fuels my rage because that's quite literally the last thing I need. "How did this happen, Karan?"

I don't know, I don't fucking know. "For fuck's sake Ishita, drama mat kar."

"Ye unaffected wala drama tu band kar. You're heartbroken, just admit it. You need to get past the denial to get over it altogether."

"I'm not—" Forget it. "What the fuck are you even doing here?"

"Tu apne ghar pe thha nahi, toh I took a wild guess. The question is, what the fuck are you still doing here? Ritwik and Vansh were calling you all night, par tujhe kahaan kisi ki padi hai."

"Pata hai toh lecture kyu de rahi hai fir?"

The distraught expression of disappointment on her face hammers the back of my brain to try and come up with a plausible justification. Whatever the reason was though, circles and disappears with her irate response.

"Nahi, tujhe kisi aur insaan ki parwah hai hi nahi, na? Didi's water broke yesterday, we rushed her to the hospital. Karan, everybody was there. But I guess you were too busy breaking the house apart to deal with your broken heart."

Shit, shit, shit. Arnav, Arohi/Sanaya, the kid. Right. In my defense, though, it didn't matter because, "Arnav isn't the—"

Her fingers scrunched my collar up in a grip so vice that I stopped talking. "Sentence finish karke dikha, saaley. I dare you. This is my sister you're talking about."

Guess we weren't addressing the elephants in the room. I mean, the baby's questionable fatherhood.

That makes the two of us.

Ishita releases me with another warning look so I clear my throat and rephrase. "I... isn't it a family-only moment?"

"How pompous have you become, man? Tujhe alag se invitation bhi bhejna padega?"

"I didn't think I'd be wanted there." Genuinely. Ishita is now part of Arnav's extended family, and Ritwik's wife is Arohi's best friend. I was the trespasser thrashing his sister's property.

Ishita's nod is of disregard, the one where she doesn't understand what's been told and has no interest in the matter either. "All these years, you called me the dumb one. Bohot ho gaya tera natak, chup chaap tayyar ho aur Arnav se milne ja."

"Mai kahi nahi jaa raha. I can't be around the Deewans right now."

Stop. The irony isn't lost on me.

"Arvika isn't here, if that's what you're worried about. Woh Mumbai mein hai... and won't be here until tomorrow. I'm in a hurry so I'll see you at the hospital."

She's out of the door before I can make her see reason. I guess this is where we go our separate ways, though. Hers is a world where she fits right in.

Mine, a mocking resemblance.
_____

Namoshtaii!

Last Thursday my mother woke me up early to go buy milk from the store. It was a refreshing break to see school vans and children in their uniforms catching a ride to school. College is a different issue, okay, but like when I saw these kids prim and proper and with school bags, I couldn't help but think about my school days. 

Kinda feels weird to realize that it's been three years since and adulting is knocking on our door. Anyways, tell me about your favorite school time memory or unpopular/popular opinion. 

It's exam time here, so there might not be an update in the coming week or so. Also, how cool is this banner art by ughhmaybeits_Titli?! I'm always in awe. Do check out her pages on Instagram if you fancy yourself a beautiful piece of art, she is really talented! 

Read, vote, comment, promote!

~Shubhodiya