Amaan~

"Is this normal?"

"What?" I could hear myself asking, amused by Parth's out of the blue moments.

"This! Having so much free time despite being in tenth!" he sighed, cracking his knuckles. Of course, with a sister who got 96.2 percentage, it was difficult to think of even breathing without the fear of exams.

Staring at the wild grass ahead of us, I concluded that our school did not care much about the ground. Like zero maintenance! The number of snake holes spotted in this wilderness was definitely not a worrying factor.

Haa matlab, saap ke ghade toh har jagah hoti hai. Isme konsi alag baat hai?
[Yes, snake holes are present everywhere. What's so new about this?]

"It's normal Parth. Our teachers don't like taking classes is not our problem."

We should be doing something productive at the moment. Yet here we were, leaning our backs against the fence, watching the rest of the guys play football. We reached here after the teams were made, and so decided to stay out of it all together. Chatting with Shreyansh who was the goalkeeper for his side, very seldom doing his job.

"Let's walk over there Amaan."

Following his line of sight, I noticed the four of them, Jivika, Maahi, Lavanya and Krish. The absence of Kiara struck me another idea. Voicing out my thoughts, I snapped my fingers.

"Why don't we third-wheel Kiara and Pratik?!"

"Nahi yaar, aaj mood nahi hai."
[No man, not feeling up for it today.]

Parth tugged onto my loose shirt. Yes, sometimes I did wonder if it was me who wore my clothes or them who wore me. Answers which I never got. Resigning to his demands, we joined them silently. No words were exchanged as Lavanya and Krish's arguments were enough to keep us entertained.

"Krish, push na!"

"That's what I'm doing!"

"Put at least some effort into it yaar!"

Groaning, the boy pushed her harder, or better said, pushed the swing harder. She went flying in the air and coming back, almost knocking off his face on each of her arrivals. After a few minutes when she got bored, it stopped. Clearing her throat she asked us to be seated while she stood, the center of our attention.

"I've this theory guys. Obviously, these three—" she glared at Maahi, Jivika and Krish together "—don't agree with it. But you have to! It is really that innovative, I mean even Newton would not have thought about it!".

"Go ahead."

Her plait switching sides and fist in the air, she explained her so-called-theory.

Let me tell you, it was called the butt-flat theory.

"When we sit at a place for too long, for example—our benches—our butts feel that pressure from a stronger force, and it turns flat. That, my dear fellow beings, is known as the Butt-flat theory. Discovered by Lavanya Sinha, 2019 AD! So let's take a voting, how many of you agree with it."

The hands raised in the air were me, Parth and the inventor herself. The rest of the three, one was disgusted while the other two in deep thought. As a dutiful inventor, she set out to clear their doubts.

"Krish, let's start with you. What is your problem?"

"Firstly, it's weird. Secondly, it's weird. Thirdly, it—"

"It is not weird. You are just being judgemental. Shit is weird, but we still poop everyday. Next!"

The inventor stopped in front of Jivi. Shaking the thinking girl out of her thoughts, Sinha demanded that she set her queries free.

"In another school of thought, people believe that Earth is not round. It is flat. Let's say that if it happens to be true, then butts which are some kind of abnormal spheres—even they are not exactly spheres, right? As in they are already flat, so why is a theory made stating that they turn flat only at the use of an external force?"

We all stared at her, confounded. The Earth was not round? Our life was a lie?

Snapping her fingers in approval, the spectacle-bearing ant next to her put out another point.

"Moreover, let us assume that butts are partially spherical. Even then, the area of our benches are larger than our butts. Which proves for the fact that the pressure applied is not much cause area is inversely proportional to pressure. And if pressure is not enough, then how can force applied do anything to the buttocks?"

Hence proved. They are aliens, the two of them.

Lavanya, who probably should've let out some sort of disagreement, had her eyes fixed at a spot. It was a dog, a Pug. A random dude who wore shades, that too during winters, was walking his dog around. The guy roamed across the street as if he owned the place.

"That Pug is so cute!"

"No, it is not, Lavanya."

"It is! And it even has a healthy ass, look look!"

Next to me, Parth let out a snort, "I have a new theory. A dog's face looks like its owner's. Accurate right?".

I laughed as he voiced the same thoughts as mine. We were truly a match made in heaven. The guy walking the dog had an almost similar face-cut to be honest. He looked too familiar, someone I had known for a long time. As realization struck, I let out a gasp of horror and struggled to breath, cause of my laugh was that exhilarating.

"Are you cracked Tili?"

"Not yet. That is Princi's son. And that is her dog. Fluffy or something. She keeps calling it Faffy, Faffy!"

"Exactly why I said that the dog looks like its owner!"

"Is he blind? Why is he wearing shades? That too in winter?"

"That is called fashion-sense Krish. I heard he is a model or something. Owns his own studio. But have to agree, he must be terrible at his job. Otherwise why is his mother taking extension after extension? That lady is just not retiring!"

Fluffy glared at us. His what should be called a nose flared, anger or amusement, we did not know. His butt hoisted up, he walked away, proud and arrogant. But that's when the showdown happened. The street-dogs rushed in, and it seemed like the Battle of Panipat all over again.

One versus three. And the Pug being a home-bred brat did not know what saving your own dignity is. The Model-son of our Principal couldn't care less on what was happening. His hand held the leash carelessly as he was engrossed on his phone.

The Pug went in first, dragging the model-material along with him.

And that's it.

As he was dragged around everywhere, we laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Those moments when you laugh and just cannot stop, no matter how hard you try. But this was a good laugh. The last time I probably laughed like this was when our teachers heard us singing 'Ooh la la' from Dirty Picture at the backseat during our picnic, that too in the name of Antakshari.

"What are you kids doing?"

Coach-sir asked us, and before we could reply he figured it out. I mean, the misery of the dog and model-material was out there on the street. On us asking whether we should help the guy or not, Coach replied.

"Koi baat nahi, rehne do. Haa, aur naa tumne naa maine kuch dekha. Okay?"
[That's fine, let it be. And yes, neither you nor I have seen anything. Okay?]

And then he went away, teaching Kho-Kho tips and tricks to our juniors. Laughing harder, that afternoon passed in a bliss.

Ladies and Gentle-friends.

That is how Parth validated his theory and how I realized yet again, why Coach was the best. Period.