Jivika~

A question for you.

Guess the most useless day of the week.

If your answer is Saturday, then yes my genius, you are the winner of this season's 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire?'.

I mean, who keeps school on a Saturday?

Half of the student population choose to be absent. Working parents are lazy to wake up and prepare lunch for their kids, so a better solution: Don't send children to school on Saturdays! Bravo!

Teachers themselves, attend the school just because they don't want to waste their leaves. And throughout the whole day they won't enter any classes. Just sit around in groups and provide their constructive criticism (read: bitching) about teachers of the neighboring schools.

And we.

We the few who have no choice but attend the school just to see a 'present' mark next to our names, have nothing to do.

Literally nothing.

Or maybe it was just me doing nothing.

Lavanya was busy with her sermon on Taylor Swift. She had quite some audience; Rhea, Amaya and Laysa forming an integral part among the listeners. Ranting on about every detail, every gossip behind each of Swift's songs, I figured out that it won't be too long before these 'Swifties' start spurting out echoes, screams and shouts. Or music if that's the right term.

Kiara and Maahi were resting on my shoulders, one on the right and the other to the left.

"Guys, start paying the next time you use my shoulders as your headrest!"

Kiara let out a sigh.

"Your shoulder is so perfect! Its like ... how to explain? The right amount of fat, the height, gosh its perfect!"

"Uh ... thanks?"

The class was in chaos. But there was a weird stillness among the three of us. This calmness as if time was still and not moving at all. Laziness in the air intensified as we simultaneously let out our tiring sighs.

We were sitting on top of the benches as if we ruled the world. The sight of a teacher, and we would be jumping back to our seats.

Looking outside the window I see the green patches of our ground, kissed with the pearls of water and a curtain of sunlight draped over them. The lightest hue of a rainbow, after a quick morning shower.

Juniors taking laps around the ground, huffing and puffing, serving for their tardiness. One trying to overtake the others and smoothly landing on the muddy ditch.

The watchman and our school coach running around with bamboos in their hands, trying to drive out the cows wandering on the school ground.

A ten year old, showing off his latest watch to his classmates. Hands in the air, the gestures were enough to give us a glimpse of what was happening there.

We used to be like those ten year old cockroaches.

"Pretty isn't it?"

"When did you land here?" I asked him, surprised at the swap of seating arrangements.

And where are my little koala bears who were cuddling me few seconds ago? Oh! There they are, Kiara flirting her heart out with her boyfriend and Maahi teaching history to Prajakta, using the most vulgar examples to prove her point of why 'Iron and Steel industry' bossed around the other smaller ones.

"Moreover, why are your hands covered with pen marks?"

I questioned, trying to figure out whether something productive had been done by anyone during this period and how.

Pointing at the crowd gathered at the corner, he shrugged. I squinted my eyes, trying to figure out what the boys were upto. But whatever they were doing, was done so sneakingly, that I did not know what to make of it.

"Chill yaar, you'll know in a while. I guess?" he replied, trying to curb down my curiosity.

Laughed. I laughed.

"Sure, we'll see whether you'll ditch your 'bro-code' for that!"

"That, I won't!"

As expected. In a good way.

"Guys, any of  you wanna bunk?" Kiara asked our group, her voice hinting a 'please', though reluctant to say out loud. Eyeing between Pratik and her, I understood what they were upto. Ditching my temporary conversation companion, I walked out of the class along with Lavanya. Kiara dragged Maahi's lazy ass out of the door with extreme ease.

"You want to hang out with Pratik?" Lavanya asked. Kiara nodded, shushing her down at the sight of a teacher in the corridor.

"Kiara, be careful. Last time you fell off these stairs and broke your nose, it wasn't  a pretty sight!" I warned, earning an eye-roll from her.

We marched towards the ground, only to be stopped by the guard at the gate of the ground. Pushing our ID's into our pocket, we asked for the gates to be opened.

"Class?"

"Ninth B!"

He clearly did not believe us. Not that he should. Calling a boy from ninth he asked the kid if we were from his class. We were bound to be caught, the school had reformed the rules and it was getting more difficult to break them now. Grinning at us, the kid replied.

"Yes. They are from my class only watchman-uncle!"

Frowning, he let us free. Kiara spotted Pratik within seconds and walked over to him, settling down at the corner, behind the bushes amidst the trees. The couples-corner it was.

We three sat near the sand pit, dipping our feet into the sand, stretching out our hands. Lavanya, bored out of her wits, threw some sand at Maahi. The latter who was mature enough almost always, for a change, threw some back at her best friend.

Sand fight it is.

Throwing sand everywhere, we were engrossed in our own childishness, that we failed to notice the other three who joined our sand fight. Rhea's shriek echoed in the air as Amaya accidentally threw some sand into her mouth, her eyes wide resulting in Laysa's terrifying cackle.

Drawing in deep breaths, my eyes fleeted over the two lanky figures entering the ground.

How come everyone is being let inside the ground?

Parth and Amaan, lurked near the fence, waiting for the guys of the class to join. Barely five seconds later, I spotted Prajakta, Kajal and their group, striding towards the basketball court, yelling and staring their game.

And.

And.

After a minute or two, I saw Shreyansh and his friends head to the ground. Ten minutes, it just took ten minutes for the whole class to be on the ground. I watched the brooding classroom on the top floor, lights out. Triple art period  had brought the whole class to the ground, otherwise the goody-two-shoes would've never stepped a foot out of the class.

Did I mention how much I love this class?

Mass bunking was nothing new for us. But tenth grade had made that event rare for us. We who used to be on the ground from the first to the last period during our ninth grade, were confined to the boundaries of our class this year.

Observing the black football passed among the boys, I casually walked towards Amaan and raised my doubts. "Where did you get this?" I asked, questioning my memory again and again.

"Stole it from the seniors and re-designed it, that's it," he replied with a hint of pride. Shaking my head, I grinned, imagining the upcoming fight between the seniors and them, with pure enthusiasm. Definitely something to look forward to. 

Something which was not worth looking forward to was our principal's sudden rounds. I watched the sari clad figure march to the ground, yelling like a random stranger on the road, uncivilized, as many of our parents would point out.

She must have seen India's overpopulation on her ground.

Running around frantically, our class started the infamous 'Hide n' Seek'. Yelling around the mayday calls, 'Maushi arrived, maushi has arrived!'  they trampled here and there. Apparently, our class was not the only one bunking.

Few boys hid their ID's and camouflaged  with the other classes. They were our brave souls. We were not them. Few flocked around our coach, acting as his assistants, convincing him to save them from the devil. We were not them either.

Around thirty students ran towards the secluded area, stepping up on the crumbling bricks and jumping into a classroom through the broken window. One at a time, at an amazing pace. This was us.

"Thank god!" Lavanya panted, hands on her knees.

"What are you all doing here?" asked Ms. Lavanya Gupta, quite accusingly. The art room was right next to this particular classroom, a detail which we all had conveniently forgotten. Lavanya ma'am, our art and painting teacher.

As one Lavanya stared at the other, ours let out a squeak.

"Almost there, I guess."

Fumbling and mumbling, Amaan started off, "Uh ... ma'am ... we ... we". His inability to complete his sentence was nothing compared to the looks plastered on the thirty innocent faces in the classroom.

" Isn't it my period, Amaan?" she asked menacingly. Her amusement hidden well by her flushed red face.

I looked.

He looked.

We looked away.

And we looked back again.

~