"You like her because she is likable? Or is it because she was kind to Shravan?" My friend asked me, while draining my supplies of grapes, which I had no idea, existed in the fridge.

"Okay, first. Like is a strong word. And B. Why do you stress that she was kind to Shravu? Isn't that a good thing?" I tried to take a grape from his bowl.

He swatted my hand away as if I were a fly. "Because you love that kid. And you hold everyone who helps him, in a high regard. And the teacher being nice to him, stuck to you like a chewing gum getting stuck to brand new shoes."

"Is this even going somewhere?"

"I heard you raised your voice at his classmates last week for annoying him. My point is, you lose it when it comes to Shravan. I just want you to remove that lens while viewing the rest of the world." He finally told me what bothered him.

"The classmates didn't annoy him. They bullied him." I considered slamming my fist on the table. But stopped myself the last moment, thinking of how much a new table would cost me if I broke this one.

Shravan was getting bullied.

We spent two months during the summer holidays, trying to build his confidence. And these kids managed to break it in ten minutes.

It was the little event they planned two weeks ago, celebrating the bravery of the kids who got stuck in the bus.

Of course I was invited. I was thanked by all the parents. Some over friendly ones hugged me. I stood there awkwardly, plastering a smile on my face.

The Social teacher, Prakruthi,  somehow managed to click a picture of that particular moment. She said I looked like someone put me on gunpoint and asked me to smile for the camera. We laughed together for a long time.

She then showed it to Santa Claus aunty, which was a big mistake. She found it very cute. Within few minutes, the whole town was familiar with the picture.

After that, Prakruthi introduced me to her colleagues. One of them asked me if I would allow the students on a field trip to my tea manufacturing plant. And I being me, nodded instead of shaking my head.

Imagine having to manage hundred kids for a day, when one Shravan was more than enough to increase my blood pressure.

Prakruthi assured me that there will be one teacher for every ten kids and I need not worry.

She then told me that few of her students made me thank you cards. Though I maintained my composure when I saw them, I was so touched that I had to blink away tears.

The day was perfect, till the moment we decided to head back home. I went to fetch Shravan, only to see him crying in a corner, while a group of kids made fun of him.

Shravan's parents were living separately. They were on the verge of divorce, which was why his mother left him here, with his grandmother. And these bullies never let him forget that.

He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Snotty Shravan, someone said. Immediately, the entire gang started chanting it.

Before I knew what I was doing, I ended up scolding them. It didn't go well with their parents. Prakruthi and the other teacher who spoke to me earlier, had to interfere. When it was sorted out, I walked away without saying a word.

I knew they would think of me as an ill-mannered person. I thought that was the end of my friendship with Prakruthi. But she texted me that evening asking me if Shravan was fine. A woman who only knew him for a month and a half cared so much for him. After several hours of being angry with everyone and everything, I finally felt calm.

"Just be careful when kids are involved, man. If one of these little brats get hurt, I don't want you being the prime suspect." My friend continued speaking, unaware of me zoning off. "Although I guess, it will be fun to assist you break out from the prison."

I was so annoyed by this idiot and yet I couldn't help but laugh.

---***---

The field trip went surprisingly well thanks to the school teachers. They listened with rapt attention when my staff explained the manufacturing process to them, while the children were excited to take home free packets of tea.

Shravan insisted on giving his friends, Anumita and Deepak, extra packets. It took me an hour to explain why it won't look good.

Finally, around 3 pm, when all the fun was almost over, the staff sat down. Prakruthi sat next to Uttara, who visited the plant because it was weekend.

They seemed to have become friends. I filled my plate with snacks and approached them. 

"Hello" I greeted them. "What did I miss?"

They asked me to sit down next to them.

"We were discussing new story ideas" said Uttara. "We both write stories online."

"That's a very nice hobby." I grinned. "May I know what your new stories are about?"

Uttara nudged Prakruthi, who looked uncertain. "It is a bit childish. Just for fun. You may not like it."

"Childish or not, you are having fun writing it. That's what matters." I kept staring, waiting for her to begin.

She sighed. "It is about a superhero who is very possessive about their city. When a new superhero arrives and starts saving the city, the old one  feels insecure. Hence, the old one gets the new hero kidnapped, and pretends to save them from the kidnappers, to regain popularity. But the problem is, the new superhero falls in love with the old one and insists on working together."

"Whoa! That's awesome! I like the concept. You should definitely start writing it." I couldn't wait to read it. And I was sure it would be excellent because it was being authored by none other than Prakruthi.

"Thank you. I'm so glad you like it." She smiled. "Uttara has a new story idea too."

We both looked at Uttara, who shrugged before starting. "It is the story of a girl whose parents start being nice to her, after an accident makes her amnesiac and she starts acting like a five year old."

Sounded like a TV show rip off to me. If the teacher felt the same, she didn't let it show on her face. She just glanced at me, and I understood.

Oblivious to our reactions, Uttara continued. "She is faking, of course. She just wants to teach her parents a lesson, for being strict."

"What!" We both said in unison.

Uttara wiggled her eyebrows, looking smug.

"That's something new. Go ahead." I encouraged her.

"This is peak gen Z concept. I love it. I think readers will love it too. They can relate to this." Prakruthi pat her shoulder. "Except those, whose parents are liberal." She added.

"Parents and liberal? Those two are mutually exclusive" said Uttara.

"That's not entirely true." I contradicted. "I have seen parents who give their kids a lot of freedom and respect their opinion."

She looked at me with eyes full of mock pity. "Kiddo! Parents only respect your opinion as long as it doesn't clash with theirs. You will see their true colours, when you do something they don't agree with."

Prakruthi and I shared a look once again. We both silently agreed that it was a sensitive topic and we shouldn't discuss this any further.

"I'm hungry. Shall we get some snacks?" asked Prakruthi.

"Yes. I need coffee." Uttara replied.

"This is a tea manufacturing plant." I said.

"So?"

"You can't find coffee anywhere in a tea manufacturing plant. Coffee and tea are heriditary enemies" said Prakruthi.

All three of us burst out laughing. They both decided to get some coffee from a shop at the end of the street.

I returned to the verandah where the students were interacting with the staff. Few other kids who weren't exhausted by the day long trip, were dancing merrily. It was fun to watch their happy little faces.

It started drizzling.

Two of the kids, who were dancing, skid and fell down. One of them was Shravan.

He got up immediately, holding his slightly injured elbow. But one of the bullies witnessed the incident and said loudly, "Now cry baby Shravan will flood the town with his tears."

The kids standing next to them stopped whatever they were doing and turned to look at Shravan.

They started making fun of him again. I rushed to the spot, to find him crying.

"Shravu, are you hurt?" I held his hand to examine his wound. It was just a scratch.

The mannerless bullies stopped their mean comments and tried to look innocent. One of the teachers who reached the spot, scolded them.

But I knew it won't make any difference. Someone had to put the fear of God in them.

"We have CC cameras here. Shall I send it to your parents?" I asked them.

"No" They murmured.

"Then stop being jerks to your classmates." I said in a very polite tone.

"Sir, please relax. We will handle this." The teachers assured.

I turned around to see that Shravan wasn't there.  I found him at the main gate, clutching Uttara's hand tightly, and crying.

The teacher stood next to them, trying to comfort him.

But as someone who suffered at the hands of bullies, I knew that being humiliated in front of all his classmates was too much for a boy his age.

"I will never dance again." He said amid hiccups.

Uttara somehow managed to make him drink some water.

"You take him home directly from here. I will inform the other teachers that he went with his aunt." Prakruthi suggested.

Uttara nodded and led Shravan towards the main road.

"Did you scold the other kids again?" Prakruthi asked.

"I was very polite to them this time." I replied.

She sighed. "I will talk to them. I will tell them that this kind of behavior won't be tolerated. And then we will think about how to help Shravan."

"Help Shravan?"

"Yes. I don't know if you have noticed, but he is very sad and depressed these days. During his last counselling session, he almost cried. He is very disturbed. We should talk to him."

"Are you sure you want to? I mean, it will be very helpful if his teacher talks to him about his problems. But we don't want to bother you." I said uncertainly.

"I know this is not exactly my job. But a child needs help. And I won't sit idle when I can provide it to him." She said in a determined tone.

She walked inside the building. But I stood right there, thinking about what she said to me.

Next time that stupid friend of mine asks me stupid questions about why I like her, I would answer without hesitation. The part of her that cared so much about others, was what made her extremely likable.

---***---

This story is fun to write. I don't understand why I keep procrastinating the typing part.

By the way, which story idea did you like better? Comment and let me know.