Jivika~

It felt good to be back after a long time. Study leave does tire one out. It makes you regret wishing a break from school. It makes you say you want to go back, just once, one last time.It makes you remember those crumbling walls, horrible grounds and sweet moments.

And that's how we all were present that day, for the much awaited class photo.

The last one.

Since the morning we had been fixing our hair and trying to appear decent in this uniform. I mean who keeps those grey checkered kurta as uniform? This thing has the ability to make even the prettiest thing in this cosmos look ugly.

"Alright students! Head to the ground in a single line! Monitors, handle the situation!" instructed Sonika ma'am.

The concept of 'single line' has to be the biggest joke of the century.

Blocking the front door, I let out shout after making sure that the lady was out of my sight, "Hey chaman chutiyes! Listen up! None of you are leaving early today! We are a taking a nice unofficial group photo. If any of you leave...wait till I catch you!"

Reaching the ground, I walked around. Recollecting how the late comers used to take laps around here, how they made us to the mass PT drill which somehow was always called 'marks-PT'. How  we used to fight in the sand pit at the corner and play Kabaddi. The dusty ground where we would celebrate Sports Day and our house would always lift the Cup. And of course, where our endless inter class dramas would occur.

How we would fight for the jaadu (broom) and pretend to clean the ground for five seconds, that is till our picture gets clicked so that our extremely beautiful faces would make an appearance in the School Magazine.

The grass carpet where we troubled the earthworms. Rest in peace earthworms. The rusted fences over which we would climb like monkeys as it provided the shorter route for us lazy beings.

Escaping from school even ten minutes prior the actual time felt like a victory. Trust me, you have no clue about the hawk eyes of that watchman who would spot us amidst the sea of cranky parents.

"Baccha Party!" yelled Amaya, pointing at the swarm of parents who had arrived to pick up their kids.

Well this party would put the rallies of our country to shame.

I mean, what's the point? All those cockroaches look similar, either skinny as a matchstick or inflated like a balloon.

Personally, I find those inflated ones cuter.
Mann karta hai ki unke gaal keechte rahu.
[Feel like pulling their cheeks all the time.]

"B SECTION!"

"Short ones in first, middle in second and tall in third row!"

Maahi, Lavanya and Laysa fit themselves in the first, Rhea and Amaya joined the second. Kiara and me, as usual, stood in third.

You know the ones who are never photogenic? That's me.

We made Sonika ma'am sit in front. Before the photo could be clicked, someone protested that our class cannot have a group photo without the man who stood by our side through thick and thin. Yes, our Coach. Dragging sir, we gave our cheeky grins to the photographer and waited.

The boys created temporary hairstyles, so that they could 'magically' have a spurt in their heights and sneakingly enter the third row. But no matter, no matter how hard you try, a school group photo is bound to be imperfect.

That was my last thought before I heard the snap.

And as usual, my eyes were closed. Every year, the last moment when I see the light, my eyes shut automatically. But this year, it did not matter anymore. Without the typical Jivika things, how can even our class photo be complete?

All of us smiled till our cheeks hurt, this was a customary ritual.  However unlike every time, the smiles did not leave our faces this year.

"Guys, last group photo in this uniform—" started Laysa.

But her words were drowned in the cheers of our class.

Lavanya, blinked back her tears, holding onto Kiara. Among us Maahi, Lavanya and Kiara were continuing in this school. Amaya, Laysa and Rhea were dropping school for entrance coaching. And I was shifting to another continent. The magnitude of the moment intensified, and I looked away.

"The last time I'm stepping into this school as a tenth-grader," spoke up Amaan, bringing everyone's attention.

Just when I was about to reply, Sonika ma'am cut through.

"Amaan, unfortunately no. You all have to submit your portfolios, assignments, notebooks, check your medical details, collect your admit cards, attempt your physical fitness test, collect the class photo and lastly attempt the Math mock tests which I'm going to conduct."

Pausing for a second, she put forward an afterthought along with a lasting smile.

"Moreover, I would be teaching you people only till this grade. Next year onwards it would be the PGT teachers. So, for me, you all will be my tenth-graders only!"

"Ma'am you forgot the most important thing!" reminded Sachin, clicking his tongue.

"Huh? What?"

"Ma'am. Our. Class. Party!"

That's when another round of cheers started.

And this time, I  joined as well.

*

"Yaar, let's go naa!" groaned Lavanya for the umpteenth time. As usual we forgot about the unofficial photo. Standing beside our bus, each person for a different purpose. Well, scratch that, it was to stalk Pratik.

This was our ritual since time immemorial.

Kiara insisted on watching him go. And this had been happening for years. This area?

This was our 'Adda' (den).

Cause Pratik's electric blue car was always parked in front of our bus. And every day Mahashay (sir) was dropped and picked up by his father. Such was his luxury that he never had to hold his own schoolbag. For, it was his father who would carry it always. Every afternoon except on Sundays and holidays, exactly when the clock struck 13:45, our eyes were trained on the father-son duo.

I am ninety-eight percent sure that his dad might have an idea by now.

And every afternoon, we envied how his dad would open the door for him, he would sit at the back seat and his father would drive away.

"Agar meri maa hoti naa tabhi bol deti 'ki driver nahi hu, saamne aa' and saath mai joothe bhi padte!"
[If it were my mom, she would have said 'I'm not your driver' and I would have got beaten as well!]

This remark came from the girlfriend herself.

"Such a spoilt Brat!" came Amaya's declaration. Digging into my packet of Kurkure I tried to find if there was any hidden treasure after the last piece which I just ate. A girl could always hope, you know.

"Dekho besharmo! Kaise thaad rahe hai!"
[Watch these shameless people! Look how they are staring!]

This was the Chinese whispers between Parth and Amaan. And the former travels in the same bus as ours. You know what's worse? That Parth lives in the same building as mine.

"Besharam!" Amaan taunted, sticking out a tongue.
[Besharam: Shameless!]

"Tili!" I gave back, eyeing him up and down and snorted.
[Tili: Matchstick]

Oh boy! That look of horror on his face. As Parth slapped on his back cackling away, I searched for his laugh lines. Fulfilling my expectations, he gave me his lopsided grin. Caging him inside his arms, Parth dragged him away. There must've been something wrong with the polluted air. Otherwise there was no reason for me to keep staring at their retreating backs.

I looked.

He looked. 

We looked away.

And we looked back again.

~