It Had To Be You (part 11) AK ff pg 121 4/26/10 - Page 14

Originally posted by: aRohAAnGeL

aaaaaaaaaa............its soooo intresting from angad's POV...awesome part dii...continue soon =D

Originally posted by: bhuvana3

Hey Bheegi... I was running a search of your posts.. I wanted to re read Faasle n I found this latest FF of yours !! It made my Saturday Morning 🥳🥳🥳

Prologue and the Part I are very well written 😛👏 You seem to have a lot of experiance with kids👍🏼 It brought back memories of some very happy times with my niece 😛 n ooo I dinnot know little boys are so much trouble Little Angad is soo adorable just like Dennis the Menace and Kripa is the disney princess..

I did not like Suryabhan 😕 It seems silly competing with Angad.. I hope he does not maintain this attitude throughout the FF.. But grown ups seldom change

Really looking forward to see what happens in the lives of fairy Kripa n imp Angad 😛

PART 2:

(source: http://www.acclaimimages.com/_gallery/_pages/0110-0905-0114-0708.html)

Needless to say, Angad-the-great and his boy buddies were banished from attending your birthday parties for the next few years. Darn! All that boring girly stuff that you girls get so mushy and sappy about- my inspiration- to uncover my hidden talents like jumping was so unkindly ruined in its toddler stage by some grownups. For some reason, why do I feel that it was your dad who expelled us innocent boys from these excellent learning experiences? After all, necessity is the mother of invention or rather boredom is the mother of entertainment!

Thank God for mommy friendships. Mom and Gayatri aunty had a similar relationship with each other. After all, they had both gotten married in the same year, immigrated to the US in the same month (although different years) and had their first borns on the same date (different months and years of course but that didn't matter to them!) They were both graduates of the great Indian School of Numerology (not really) and therefore, these numerological coincidences meant they were destined to be together ' best friends forever- as they called themselves. In other words, my banishment from your birthday parties meant little, as we would all still hang out together on most weekends, some week days when all the aunties got together for tea or rather gossip sessions about their good-for-nothing-husbands and their gifted or in some cases, not-so-gifted children (how boring; I thought women gossiped about juicier stuff like who is sleeping with whom, or who is not sleeping with whom? Maybe they just didn't discuss that kind of stuff in front of us.)

One day, Gayatri aunty stumbled upon those famous Chinese math classes which were becoming as popular as a Lexus in each desi driveway of suburban New York. Mom jumped on the bandwagon and both you and I were promptly registered for these after-school classes. You were in Kindergarten, and I was in first grade. As I kicked and protested-I don't even know Chinese, how can I do Chinese math mom?- you willingly, with that big smile you reserved for exclusive people and events welcomed this enrichment opportunity with open arms.

"Ok students," the Chinese teacher, Ms Manchurian (that's what I called her-you know my old habit of labeling people with names) and her thicker than jam, Chinese accent greeted us the first day, "let's start with basics. Can you all write the numbers 1 to 10? I want to see if you are ready for this program or not."

1, 2, 10- my answer.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5''.all the way to 100- your answer.

No second guesses about who was not considered ready and who was considered way ready for this program. I gladly accepted expulsion from this class.

"The teacher spoke in Chinese!" That was my excuse for being kicked out. My mother, of course, was disheartened about her son's failure. Thank God dad stopped her from taking me to a psychologist, "Naina'.Angad was right. The teacher should have been clear about her directions. Waise bhi my son does not need all these Chinese-Japanese math programs. I will teach him the desi way."

One area where I excelled was the basketball court. Both you and I joined the YMCA for basketball lessons. You, with the coordination of a drunken elephant (sorry, that's what I thought of you all those growing years) quit after three lessons, but I was soon chosen into one of the first grade teams. Not used to failure, I remember how you left the court crying incessantly. Suryabhan uncle consoled you, "Kripa beta, basketball players grow up to work for geniuses like you. Chalo let's go and join this new Brainquest class for kids. That is more interesting than this boring ball game." Now I know who was responsible for your 'geek' tag that you so proudly carried all through your school years.

We shared the bus back and forth between school and home. By the time we were in 3^rd and 2nd grades respectively, I had established myself as the popular but mischief maker in the bus and you, the quiet, respectful one who always wished the bus driver, sat down with a book at the back of the bus, away from us hooligans. You might have not noticed but every time we boarded the bus, I would pass a fleeting gaze at you- maybe just having you in the bus was reassuring or was I hoping for a reaction from you?

"Who is she?" Someone asked about you one day, "you know her?"

"I guess," I shrugged my shoulders, "her name is bookworm!" I grinned and patted myself for coining a perfect name for you.

"BOOKWORM!" The whole bus broke out in a chorus and stared at you. I watched intently as that was the first time in a long time, you looked up all red and flustered.

"I am not a bookworm!" You yelled back.

"Of course you are!" I teased you and if you remember, I pulled a wiggly long slimy earth worm, I had just dug out in school that rainy afternoon, from my pocket and dropped it on your Cam Jansen book.

What followed next was complete mayhem and chaos in the bus. As you jumped, screamed, shrieked and kicked me furiously with your feet (they were strong man! Why did you never play soccer?) the bus came to a screeching halt. The driver got off her seat, reprimanded me, wrote me up and threw my poor earth worm out of the window.

"I HATE YOU ANGAD!" Your parting words as you sobbed away in your mom's arms rang in my ears all the way home.

That evening, I stayed grounded from my lifelines- videogames, basketball and my friends. If it were not for mom and Gayatri aunty's friendship, we would have never seen each other again. I was barred from using the school bus for the rest of the year. My antics to attract your attention would invariably end in disaster for me, but thick skinned that I was, I never gave up'.till one day when you walked away from my life forever.

When I was in 5^th grade and you were in 4 th grade, a number of new families moved into our exclusive neighborhood of high achieving, mostly desi families with Mcmansions and manicured lawns. Fortunately, we all attended the same neighborhood school- a blue ribbon school thanks to its high test scores because of desi and Chinese kids! A number of us soon started hanging out and playing together in and after school. Josh Modi, the 5^th grader, arrogant, know-it-all-kid and only son of his super rich doctor parents, who believed in nannies more than parenting; Prithvi and Aaliya Garewal, 4^th grade twins who had just moved from Chicago, with the friendliest parents and hosts to the liveliest parties in the neighborhood, soon joined our gang of kids.

Fortunately, my little sister, Anita grew to be a tom boy, more interested in sword fights, video games, sports and wrestling with me than your foo-foo girly mush. Of course, that meant my mom's worries about her kids futures multiplied exponentially.

"Yeh Anita sirf football aur kushti hi karti rahegi tho kahin aage jaakar kuch problem na ho jaaye."

"Kaise problem Naina?" An infuriated dad, who loved his little darling Anita than anyone else in this world, asked.

"Wo hi'.chee chee'.bachchon ke saamne tho sharam karo!"

"Arre baba aisa kya keh diya maine?"

"Wo hi problem'.khushi waali?" Mom whispered loudly.

Me, the nosey one had to interject at that hush-hush comment, "you mean gay? Anita is gay?" My eyes popped wide- now I could get back at Anita as she had almost beaten me at our last Nintendo game.

"Hai Ram!" Mom exclaimed, mortified at her son's general knowledge, hid herself in the kitchen, "aaj kal ke bachche'.kahan kahan se yeh sab seekh lete hain?"

"Sex education class at school!" I grinned.

"Abhi se?" Mom popped her head out of the kitchen, "tauba tauba!"

"Come on Naina! Earlier the better. Angad is 10 now; what do you expect? At least, he will not have to wait till his suhaag raat," a direct jab at my mom.

"Dilip! You are too much! Why do you have to taunt me about the past every time?"

"Mom! So, is it true?"

"WHAT?" Mom almost screamed, worried that I had understood that suhaag raat jab (frankly I had not at that time but as it was an oft repeated topic at home, it didn't take me much time to realize what that meant) and then glared at dad- the famous glare that usually sent dad back to the TV to catch up on latest football scores.

"That stuff about Anita?"

"ANGAD! NO MORE NINTENDO FOR A WEEK! BAHUT BADTAMEEZ HOTA JAA RAHA HAI! KHABARDAR KISI KE SAAMNE AISI BAATEIN KI TO!"

"Sorry mom," I curled up on the sofa with a pout. I could do anything for my latest conquer- Nintendo- even keep my mouth shut.

"Kaash mere dono bachche Kripa jaise hote," mom shook her head, "kitni seedhi'.bholi aur samajhdaar hai."

"Well sweetheart," dad turned the TV off and embraced mom from behind, "tho aisa karo na, Kripa ko apni bahu banaa lena. We definitely don't have the genetic pool to create an angel like Kripa. She would make a perfect wife for our rascal, Angad'.kinda like you and me, you the angel and me the rascal''kyun? "

"That's a great idea! Dilip, you do have a bright spark in that thick brain of yours." Mom smiled sarcastically.

"It's all because of your company jaaneman," dad ignored mom's sarcasm and winked at me. I gave him a dirty look for suggesting something so awful to mom.

"I hate girls!" I folded my arms defiantly and ran outside to shoot some baskets with my friends. My parents had made an innocuous comment that day, but for some reason that remark would stay etched in my memory forever, "I hate Kreeepaaa," I slam dunked a ball in anger.

Anita followed me promptly and yelled at the top of her voice, "Angad bhaiyya will marry Kripa! Angad bhaiyya will marry Kripa!"

"SHUT UP ANITA!" I bounced the ball angrily, "and get out of here. Why do you have to follow me everywhere? I hate you and I hate Kripa! Don't you ever say that again!"

Anita, who was otherwise a toughie, had an endless pool of tears, ready to discharge from her eyes at the slightest provocation especially if her big brother was the offender. Those waterworks could definitely allay all doubts about her gender! Her bawls attracted attention from our neighbors. Soon, Prithvi, Aaliya and Josh were running towards our driveway. Thankfully, the basketball in my hand turned out to be a distraction. As Josh snatched the ball from my hand, everyone got down to a friendly game of basketball.

"Hey let me call Kripa!" Aaliya, the petite twin of Prithvi announced. "Then it will be six of us. We can have two teams."

"NO WAY!" I jumped up in the air, "I will play on both teams."

"Not fair!" Josh protested, "I will play on both teams."

As we monkeys battled for the coveted position, Aaliya-the cat, ran towards your house and walked back hand in hand with you, or rather dragged you out of the house. With the latest Harry Potter in hand, you were obviously disgruntled by the prospect of playing ball with all of us. I am sure my ears and cheeks must have turned red at that moment. Mom and dad's comment echoed in my head as I saw you approaching us.

"Boys versus girls!" I yelled before any teams were formed; any association with you at that moment was inconceivable to my 10 year old mind. I guess I feared that if were on the same team, mom and dad's prophecy would come true.

You, always the Ms. Exclusive, dreaded outdoor play and that too with us. I guess, intellectually we were too dumb for you or now that I think back, maybe we were really mean to you.

"NO! I WANT TO BE ON BHAIYYA'S TEAM!" Six year old Anita stomped her feet, "bhaiyya always wins. Kripa can't even bounce the ball!" Trust a six year old to be politically uncorrect.

"Even I don't want to be on Kripa's team!" I snapped back.

"Me too!" Prithvi, always the follower joined in.

I still remember how upset our rejection had made you that afternoon. With your eyes misty, you wiped your face and sat on the bench, "I will not play on any team! Basketball is for dummies. Let me read my book."

As you sat buried in Harry Potter, Aaliya stepped forward, "girls versus boys is fine with me. Come on Kripa, let's play. I will help you."

"No, I don't need help," you replied defiantly. Maybe it was that perfectionist trait in you or your dad's pride; you had a bad habit of not accepting help from others. Josh, the 'toxic smoothie' as I labeled him in later years, smiled and sat next to you, "wow Harry Potter? I have read all seven of them. How about you?"

"Liar!" I whispered to myself. I knew Josh had not read any of them. In fact, his mother was complaining to my mom the other day- "you know Naina, Josh ke liye hum kya kya nahin laate, lekin he has no respect for what he has. We just bought the whole Harry Potter series for him, but he neither wants to read them, nor watch the movies. I remember how I used to always read as a child'aaj kal ke bachche'na jaane kya hoga inka?"

You looked up and smiled at him, "really? All seven? I have just read two so far. This is the third one. Don't tell me what happens." One thing I have always admired about you- your honesty. Did that also mean you were always truthful about that favorite phrase of yours, "I hate Angad?" Maybe. That's one mystery that's always baffled me about girls and women.

"Of course not," he smiled back at you and grinned at us.

Prithvi and Aaliya were impressed with their friend. I think Aaliya fell in love with Josh at that very moment; each time Josh gloated, Aaliya's eyes would get wider. In fact, I used to wonder if they would actually pop out of her head one day.

"Wow Josh'.you are a genius!" Prithvi commented, "you must be the first fifth grader to have read all seven."

"So you are a genius just like Kripa!" Aaliya complimented him.

"Yes, we are the two geniuses in New York," Josh and you exchanged smiles again.

As my intestines rolled upside down in my tummy, the sight of you both smiling at each other gave me a bad case of gut churning cramps. My first fling with jealousy? "Basketball!" I deliberately threw the ball in your direction. As you were not paying attention and giving way too much attention to Josh, the ball smacked you straight in the face.

"OUCH!" With a bleeding nose, you screamed at the top of your voice. Your precious Harry Potter soon became the full-blood prince!

I knew I was in trouble now, maybe grounded forever this time. I prayed that Suryabhan uncle would not see that bloody sight. He would definitely lose it and so would I- lose any chances of his daughter ever giving me attention.

"I HATE ANGAD!" You wailed and ran towards your house, holding your bleeding nose with one hand and your Harry potter in the other hand. Aaliya, Josh, Prithvi, Anita all followed you while I watched all of you. For the first time in my life, I felt bad about what I had done.

I stood there still, my hands bare, my mouth wide open, my ball at my feet and my eyes with a glint of moisture, so out of character yet so real for me'..

'to be contd'.