There was nothing wrong with me. I simply preferred verbal communication over physical contact. Especially after what had happened. Not that I thought of it much, but it was always lingering in the back of my mind like a nagging presence of a toddler crying for attention. Annoying the hell out of me.

It was a week before my 12th board exams and I was slouched over my mathematics textbook on Lila's queen size bed, absently chewing the end of my pencil (which I later discovered to be completely macerated) and calculating the digits. Lila lay next to me, fiddling with the calculator. The sunlight filtered in through the white shutters of her balcony, inching slowly on the bed like a crawling worm.

"Hello, hello," I heard her say and I looked up from the book. She was pressing the calculator against her ear like it was a mobile phone. She grinned triumphantly when her little game had captured my attention and continued, "This is an official announcement to let the citizens of twelfth-grade CBSE mathematics know that the answer to sum number seven is seventy."

"God, Lila." I scowled at her, not wanting to know the answer from her calculator since I had broken my back over this sum for half an hour.

"Okay, sorry, sorry. I won't disturb you," she said in a manner contrary to her apologetic words, nevertheless, she turned her back to me and lay motionless.

How different we were. I took my academic performance seriously, analysing each text of my portion and worrying about every lost mark. I did attain results for all my slogging which reinforced my obsession with academics. In contrast, Lila barely studied the ready-made answers from the various guides. She regurgitated them up a day before exams and scored below average to average marks. She was content with that and her peculiar family never bothered about her academics either. When we had won the quiz competition, she had been the happiest, regarding the victory as no less than a miracle . . . Well, that was a story for another time.

Lila didn't have any extraordinary talent either (neither did I), but she was content doing a little bit of several things. If someone gifted her a new box of paints, she would be engrossed in painting for a few weeks with the unwavering determination of a missionary trying to convert people. But then it would fade away if she came across a new baking recipe, spending the next few days harassing her mother into helping her create the perfect triple-decker sponge cake. After she achieved that, she would randomly come across a trending dance step, then spend the next few days learning it till the trend (like trends by definition do) would lose its appeal. So on and on.

For me, doing a little bit of everything amounted to nothing. So I did nothing. And I was pretty consistent in doing that.

Our contrast was like a vibrant day and dreary night. Warm oceans with fierce waves and lofty, cold, unmoving mountains. Lazy summer afternoons and chilly, eerie winter nights where one could hear the whistling wind.
(Not so much in cities where one could hear only whistling men).

Soon, I was immersed again in solving the sums in my maths book when I heard her voice again, "Tring, tring . . . Hello!"

"The number you are dialling is currently unavailable," I responded in the monotonous tone of the call centre lady which made her chuckle.

"Unavailable for some gossip too?"

"Just this one sum, Lila, and I'll pick up your call."

"Raul kissed me," she blurted out of nowhere. I watched her closely as she slowly sat up, her wavy hair frizzier from all the laying down. "He kissed me on the last day of school. In the washroom, can you believe that?"

There was excitement in her voice which made me feel queasy. Raul, Anthony, Lila and I were supposedly a group. Raul was rich like Lila, his skin tone matched hers which made all classmates ship them, but his cheekiness irked me. His constant need to captivate Lila's attention (I was certain that his wolfish eyes couldn't see past her body) sent me over the edge.

"How was it?" I asked coolly, the water below the frigid layer of my icy exterior was stagnant. I was afraid to move my lips beyond that one sentence, to change my expression into a feigned thrilled one was to risk rupturing the ice and letting the water spill out. So my face remained passive.

"I know you don't like him, but he kisses nicely. Very nicely," she remarked and I remained quiet. "Did Anthony ever kiss you?"

I was bewildered at that question as I shook my head, my head which was still full of disconcerting thoughts about Raul and Lila kissing. "How did he kiss you in the washroom? Did no one see?"

"It was during the math period. I excused myself out and I didn't know he followed me."

I didn't have any recollection of this, maybe I was breaking my back over the sums even then. "What happened after that? How did you feel?"

She giggled, making me foolishly realise about my prying questions."I was washing my hands when he entered and he said, 'Today's the last day of school.' And I thought why did he have to come in the girls' washroom to tell me this." She burst out giggling again, amused by her own thoughts. I was impatiently waiting for her to narrate the entire incident, my uneasiness heightening with her laughter. She was blissfully unaware of this as she came closer to me, then put her hand against the wall, cornering me. "He stood like this . . . then---" Her words died down halfway as her warm lips pressed against mine.

I could barely think or rather, I thought too much that one thought was quickly overpowered by another. As if my thoughts were racing to win my consciousness. The uneasiness was replaced by a strange, foreign feeling of goosebumps and my heart- the poor prisoner- throbbed. Was it uneasiness again? The still, cold water under the ice began swirling vehemently as she slid her tongue in between my parted lips. I could feel the warmth of her lips, her tongue and her body. The air conditioning of the room was strong, my hands were cold like blocks of ice and accidentally they brushed against her thighs. The blocks of ice melted fast. Warm and cold. I could only hear the faint sound of the air conditioner. Through my droopy eyes, I could see the ray of sunlight which spilt marvellously on the frizz in her hair and made it a fiery amber colour.

Just like the sun sets and darkness descends, it was all over.

Lila quietly retreated to the shadows where the sunlight didn't kiss her, a naughty smile playing on her lips like a smug child having done something that it shouldn't have, but got what it wanted. Or was I reading too much? It all seemed a big joke to her, life sometimes, was simply a big joke to Lila. Which was why she laughed so much, her laughter seemed too bizarre and puzzling at times.

We never talked about this after that day because we could hardly see each other. With exams the next week and Lila being a terrible study partner, I avoided visiting her house and immersed myself fully in the world of science and maths, not liking even one bit of the world at all. My sister's wedding was scheduled right after a week of the completion of my exams. That again drained me from having to take up some responsibility in preparations like buying and arranging stuff to counselling my anxious parents. So here we were, after a crazy, exasperating month with Lila's soft head on my shoulder.

* * *

Glossary :

CBSE- a national level board of education in India for public and private schools, controlled and managed by the Union Government of India.

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