Jivika~

"So this method is called substitution, where you substitute the values of x and y," droned on Sonika ma'am, repeating the same point again and again, making sure each and every child understood the topic.

"Bharat ka swarnim, gaurav, Ke—"

"This is irritating," commented Sonika ma'am. The ongoing morning assembly was disturbing her tenth-standard class, which was us. Marching outside the class, she dragged Amaan along with, completing her need of a tall lanky boy. Locating the speaker of the floor, she made him switch it off, making the whole floor go silent all of a sudden.

This woman is savage as fuck.

"May I come in ma'am?" an extremely high pitched voice ringed throughout the class.

Mrs. Sonika Sehwat, unaware of the intrusion, payed heed to the girl standing at the doorway only when she faced the lack of response from her students. Lifting my head from the x and y problem, I watched every pair of eyes towards the same direction.

The doorway.

Whispers and gossips filled the air.

Kiara nudged my shoulder, and excitedly mouthed, "That's the poodle girl! The poodle girl!"

Understanding my ignorance regarding the particular piece of tea, she continued, "She's an  annoying junior who seems to have the word show-off slapped on her forehead!"

"Why Poodle ?"

"Look at her hair!"

I glanced at her one sided half ponytail. Sure enough, it had a similar cut to a Poodle's hair. There was nothing wrong with it but that particular hairstyle, was it appropriate for school?  I ran my fingers over my light brown hair twisted into a single braid. Not to mention, dipped in oil. According to the rule book, it was supposed to be two braids. Even that was against the school rules, so who was I  to judge her?

"Yes."

The stern command of was given to grant her permission to enter the room.

"Ma'am, Lata ma'am is asking for Jivika from this class."

Eh?

With every pair of eyes finding a new target, me, I heard the Math teacher say, "Don't disturb my class like this. Jivika, go."

I stood up, ready to take a worthy fifteen minutes break from Math. You let us go out of the class and expect us not to take a school tour, knowing that the surveillance cameras are defective?

Not. A. Chance.

Getting out of the class, I grabbed the arm of that Poodle girl. Juniors are easy to intimidate. I had been one as well, and knew how easily I had listened to my seniors.

"Tell her that Sonika ma'am said that she'll send Jivika after ten minutes."

Watching her nod and get away, I ascend the stairway, passing a cheerful "Good morning, Sir!" to our English teacher. I study the bulletin board for some time before crashing into the janitor. Careful not to step over the dust she had brushed and collected, I diverted my path falling into the direct eyesight of Bharti ma'am.

Bharti ma'am was a Social Studies teacher and so was Lata ma'am. Grasping the fact that if I stayed any longer, I would definitely be snitched about my mini expedition which could land me in big trouble. And so, I had no choice but to pay Lata ma'am a visit.

Entering the staff room which was shared by the Math and Social Studies teachers, I shot a polite smile towards Archana ma'am, a friend of my mother who also lived in my building and walked towards Lata ma'am, waiting near her chair. I spotted her special flavor, sweet yet scary smile, and one could only wonder what I must have done so wrong.

Sensing my discomfort on being in the same room as Archana ma'am, Lata ma'am, patiently waited for the bell to ring while Archana auntie's ears were perked, trying to get any string of gossip.

Mrs. Archana Tripathi.

Every morning in the lift, all she does is stare creepily at me as she tries to judge from my face whether I was in a relationship or not, how many marks would I score in this year's Boards and whether I would opt for engineering or medical as well. Whether I had it in me to crack JEE or NEET. Of course, she was capable of figuring out my career before I could.

And her favourite question. The one which she had stored in her book for fifteen years and now was her time to ask. Everyday, every hour, every minute.

"Jivika beta, how are your tenth class going?"

And before she had a moment to ask again in the staff-room, the bell rang. Luck was on my side, but not for long. Because that's when Lata ma'am started speaking.

"Jivika."

"Yes ma'am."

"I won't beat around the bush."

I chose to not reply to that statement.

Then she hurled the ultimate weapon.

"Why did you help him during the test?"

I

I—

I am screwed. Officially.

Should I justify it? Or should I accept it? I knew that she knew. But can I be that straightforward with a teacher? No. So I decided to twist up the matter a bit.

"Which 'him' ma'am?"

That's when I noticed her shift of attention to the boy ahead.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

"Yes Amaan, anything you need?"

I examined the boy in question.

He ran his bony fingers through his jet black hair which held the same colour as his eyes. His crooked nose due to a mild fracture had when he was twelve. He had a dusky complexion blotched with pimples. Puberty, I guess?

His lips were chapped in this summer! Eyes sunken and the eye bags cause of his overnight session of clash of clans. He was skinny. Hell I had more fat on my body than him. His veins popped on his arms, the shades of blue, green and purple floating on his skin.

He had a tall, scrawny frame in resemblance to a matchstick. Not muscular at all despite playing cricket all day long in the 'Tulips Park'. Just an average plain Indian boy. Perhaps, malnourished too.

Academically, he was just above average. Not in the top brackets, but he had his days.

Was he good looking? Handsome? Pretty? Cute? A Greek god?

No. He was not.

But.

He was handsome when he smiled. Cute when he scrunched up his nose. Funny when he was witty.

Just how every other person was, when they smiled. Not the one where you stand in front of the mirror, straining a smile on your lips, trying to look pretty. Rather the one where you enjoy, cackling like a maniac but others think you are pretty.

That's what he was. Ordinary. Just like you or me.

"Ma'am, uh, Sonika ma'am is asking for her," he mumbled, pointing at me.

"Okay. Jivika you can go, we were just talking about the weather you see!" she replied loud and clear, cheerful as ever, a playful twinkle etched in her eyes, as I watched her staring at the end of the corridor.

That Archana auntie was still standing there, around the corner.

Gosh. That lady!

Well, wasn't the day just Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?

"What did she ask?"

Stepping on the next stair, I shrugged, "Just the weather!" .

And he did not dig further. Curious, I tilted my head.

I looked.

He looked.

We looked away.

And we looked back again.

~

Glossary:-

The usage of 'auntie' and 'uncle' in India:

In India, even a stranger is referred to as 'auntie' or 'uncle'. You can refer to a person as 'Sir' or 'Madam' but they seem too formal for an informal relation, such as a family friend. But at the same time, however informal the relation might be, calling a person by name, especially when they are elder to you, appears disrespectful. So to not hurt the sentiments of others, we resort to 'auntie' and 'uncle' which are considered to be in the middle group, neither formal nor  informal.