A rushed bump to my right shoulder causes me to miss steps, I turn around with an angry look but the figure is already lost in this overwhelming crowd. But I don't have the time to get into an argument with someone who's already walked past me, into the dense crowd of people. Not that I would. I hail an auto and slide in to sit. 
" Kidhar?" ( Where to?), he asks while turning the meter down. 
" H.A.R.S. College", I sigh. 

For almost Two hundred years, Britishers ruled over India. As a result, they left India physically but their presence is lasting. The Architecture that was built over the years of Colonization in India, still exists. Especially in Mumbai, then Bombay. One of the most adored ports for trade routes. And as a result as you travel to Southern Bombay or present day Mumbai, one can easily witness cafes, Museums and Libraries established by the Britishers.  
In 1923 a new Museum was to be built but following the events of WW1, resources and manpower both were scarce. So, the Museum never really finished construction. After the glorious and much awaited Independence in 1947, an emerging Businessman bought the incomplete Museum and continued to build it. Seven years later, it was inaugurated and named H.A.R.S. Elite Institution of Education. But you see, India was emerging as an Independent Nation at the time. So obviously no one had the monetary resources to enlist their children in this ' Elite Institution of Education' except a few. Naturally, the rich flocked to the place like bees flock to the ripest flowers and soon H.A.R.S. became an Institution exclusively for the Privileged. Until, the 2001 event that changed this policy. Under the new Policy, H.A.R.S. would support a total of 10 'academic weapons' and provide scholarships for their education. 

And, that's how I'm here. In Economics class, being taught by Prof. Arjun Raisamar. He himself completed his education from H.A.R.S., went on to explore a career in Germany but came back to India, realizing his true calling was teaching students all along. Safe to say, I also have a teeny weeny crush on him. Like, totally small. Tiny. Ughhh. Never mind. 

But, I wouldn't have to squint my eyes so much to see what Mr. I-look-sexy-in-glasses was writing if I was sitting just a little further. There's a very clear distinction in seats. The first twenty wooden benches are for the rich kids. The 'real' students of H.A.R.S. And the last ten benches are for us, the 'Charity Cases' of H.A.R.S. They can sit wherever they want, but we can't sit anywhere else other than these benches. I continue to squint because he is about to erase whatever he wrote. Shits. I'll just click a picture and copy the notes later. I take out my dead beat, long lasting phone and open it's camera. A message from my Mom dings on the screen.
' Get veggies while coming back.'  The amount of tasks she throws at me every single day is astonishing. Indian moms are built differently, for real. I type a reply and send it. Looking up, I see he's already erased what he previously wrote and is jotting down something new. Shits. Now, I'll have to borrow notes from someone. 

There's a loud knock on the door of the class and Mr. Raisamar halts the session to let the loud cheering group come in. 
" GUYS!!! The H.A.R.S. Football Club is here to announce it's victorrryyyyyyyy!", he could have said all that without the added noise. The entire class erupts in cheers and one by one all the players enter in. Including a certain someone. 

Sigh. Okay. It's a long story and it goes way back to our first meeting. By our I mean Me ( the nerdy thirty something looking nineteen year old), Zoya ( the most popular cheerleader of H.A.R.S. who'd recently stepped down from the Head Girl Position) and Ari ( a certain someone who balled my head on the first day and didn't have the decency to apologize or help me up!). So yeah, he balled my head. Like real bad. Zoya helped me up. And ever since then she and I sort of became gal pals. 

Now, in my third and last year of college, We are a trio. Well, Zoya and I are buddies. Ari only tags along because his bond with Zoya spans almost to a decade. And even then, we both don't acknowledge each other or even say Hi. Both of them have been at H.A.R.S. for the entirety of their schooling. Ari and I on the other hand are bound to have some sort of accidental meeting every fricking month! It's like a cosmic joke. On me. For him, it's the slightest inconvenience that he has to get over. I'm left thinking of all the ways I should avoid him the next time. But it doesn't happen. Nope. Because ever since Zoya left Cheerleading, her new obsession has been to make us friends. And she failed miserably. Every. Single. Time. 
Speaking of Zoya, she's missing her lectures again. I would tell her to attend more but she has everything to back her up if she fails. I, on the other hand can't afford to. I can't miss lectures, skip college or not participate in competitions. Everything I do gets me Credits. The currency of the students. And I need at least 140 credits to be able to apply at a decent foreign university for further studies. And I'm so damn close. With these two semesters under my hand, I'll be able to cover up what I lost last year. Hopefully. 
The Football Club on the other hand, they get 15 credits for every game they win representing H.A.R.S. among other prestigious institutions. Fifteen! 
My collection of fifteen credits is complete when I write a twenty thousand word research report for the Head of the Department of Finance and compete in debate competitions. My worst nightmares. Even though I've won four by now. I just can't get used to the verbal fight. But I can't say no. If I win, I get four whole credits. FOUR! And that's why folks I do what I do. I have about 121 credits in my ABC Bank now. I know. But hey, no one died of a little optimism. Not me. The Class is still cheering and Mr. Raisamar is asking the team to leave the class so that he can continue his lesson. But he can't really push them out. Because of him. 
Ari.  
He just isn't someone who can be pushed around. My eyes fall on him and I know what I will be seeing. He is in his navy blue, white stripes on the edge jersey and matching shorts. And he is built. Like a freaking football player. I mean literally built. His face is scanning the class and then his eyes land on me. Lucky me.
But I don't look away. Believe me, two years ago an eye contact like this would have burned my vision. But not anymore. Now, I can look at him and not feel the urge to turn away. His victory is smug on his face. That attitude is more present than ever. And nothing passes through his eyes. Nothing. Absolutely zero change in expressions. 
I am not unaware of the fact that half of the class is also swooning at these boys. These are well built, all handsome in a unique way boys, and they demand attention. He is still looking, maybe fishing for some fear on my face. But I am not scared of him. Nor do I feel small in front of him. I let go of that habit when I realized he might be an outstanding football player and a rich brat, but he knows nothing about friendship or basic human interaction. If anything, both times we fought he clearly mentioned how my class was a representation of my brain. Even when it was his team mate's fault. He crossed a clear line and I did what I had to. And I will always remember that Ari might be a really handsome boy and he'll eventually grow into a good-looking man. But, he'll never be anything to me. And the only reason I even put up with him is for Zoya. 
He is still looking. Piercing my thoughts with an angry stare now and I wonder what he is so angry for. A slight clench of his left jaw, and he's losing patience. 
I win! 
Not intending to, but a very small, tiny, completely non-visible smirk creeps up on my face and he sees that because the next thing he does is storm out of the class. 
My smirk is a full smile now! 
If this is a game, two will always play it. That's how it is for Ari in everything. A game he has to win.

 And the only reason I indulge in it, is because he might be a handsome boy but he pouts like a baby.