Chapter 4: Neela dupatta, peela suit
Misha Dobriyal was on a mission. She wanted to make Kabir rue the day he wrote her that letter declaring his love, and having the temerity to ask her to wear yellow if she loved him. To that end she had dressed with care this morning. She'd worn the one yellow item of girly-girl clothing she owned. It was a pale yellow churidar kurta. She thought it was overkill for school, but she wanted to create an impression. An indelible impression. So, a long flowing pale yellow kurta with full sleeves and a matching churidar was her outfit. She managed to loop in gold hoops through her ears, but that was all. No make-up. No heels. And definitely, no bindi. As it was, she felt totally unlike herself. I look like I've stepped out of a Yashraj movie, she grimaced. And the dress itched. But anything for sweet revenge, thought Miss Misha, as she stepped into college that morning.
Their reaction was entirely what she'd been hoping for. "T" had her mouth open so wide her tonsils were visible. "Tracker" batted her eyelashes 10 times faster than usual, for fear she was seeing a ghost. Some of the girls were snickering at Misha's new avatar, but Piya walked right up to her and said, "Wow Misha! You're looking lovely today..anything special?"
"Yes. It's a very special day. I'm going to kill someone with my bare hands today and thought I'd look better in Indian clothes as I did the deed", said Misha. Piya laughed and then shushed her as Kabir entered. He waved hello to them and walked over. His eyes widened slightly when they saw Misha, but then they just softened in admiration.
"Hey Piya! How goes it? Who's your gorgeous friend? Are all your friends this pretty?"
"No. But are all your lines this old and do they ever get you anywhere?", asked Misha in an exasperated tone.
"Oh God! It looks like a girl, but it talks like a Misha! Who is this weird creature and what has it done to with my Misha?" said Kabir in a mocking tone.
"Shut up Kabir. Misha looks nice, doesn't she?" interjected Piya.
"She looks beautiful." said Kabir. He was sincere in his compliment, and in spite of herself, Misha was flattered. Of course, she wouldn't let on.
"Thanks Kabir! But I did it all for you darling. You wanted me to wear yellow today, and so I did. If you say Green tomorrow, I'll wear green tomorrow. If you say orange the day after, I'll wear orange the day after. In fact, I have a nice orange saree in Kancheepuram silk that needs an airing. You get what I'm saying, right, sweet-Kabira?"
"Errr. You're saying you'll go by my taste in clothes from now on. I say good decision. I have better taste than you anyways. But when, little Misha did I ask you to wear yellow today?"
"In your letter. The one you left in my locker, baby. So shy you are. You couldn't even ask me yourself. You had to write me a love letter. I was thrilled. Little did I know that you loved me, as I worshipped you since we were in Kindergarten. Remember how I'd beat you up in break time when we were in the first grade? Good times. That's all I've been thinking about since yesterday when I read your note sweet-cheeks!"
"Sweet cheeks! Misha! I have no idea what you're talking about. Listen we need to talk" he said pulling her away from Piya. He didn't want Piya to get the wrong idea about Misha and him. But Misha struggled free. "Not in front of everyone sweetie! At least wait till we're by ourselves to get cozy", said Misha in a voice sweet as sugar, wearing a smile that looked like a wolf baring its fangs.
Kabir figured it out then. He realized that the letter meant for Piya had fallen into the wrong hands. The worst possible hands, in fact. He also realized that Misha was pissed. This gave him heart. A pissed Misha meant she hadn't taken it to heart. He decided to brazen it out. She was his childhood friend. Chaddi-buddy, so to speak. He felt entitled to mess with her a little. He sidled upto her and ran his hand up her arm to her shoulder.
"Oh Misha. You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say this. It feels like forever. But now that we're a couple, I can't wait any longer. I must kiss you. I don't care if the world sees us. He dipped her down and caressed her cheek. He bent towards her and made as if to kiss her. A knee was lodged firmly in his groin. He yelped in pain as Misha "The undertaker" Dobriyal pushed him away.
'Ewww. Stay away from me you freak. I don't love you and never will. Yuck. I'll have to bathe in bleach tonight to disinfect myself. Ugh!" She marched away angrily. Piya was giggling away and Kabir was still groaning in pain, when they both saw Abhay Raichand walk up to Misha.
"I Wander'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils" said Abhay, quoting Wordsworth.
"You look lovely today Misha. Fresh as a daffodil" Said Abhay
"Huh?" said Misha. "Did your mom add Ganja to your Wikipedia soup last night? You're high. You must be stoned to quote poetry at me."
"Ahhh..but what is one to do,
When faced with a vision of loveliness like you" said Abhay, now making up his own rhymes. He flicked her nose lightly as he said it.
"One more word, and upon your head will be my shoe," said Misha, not to be outdone in this rhyming game. And why the hell are you flicking my nose? You're not Raj. I'm not Simran. And this is not some cheesy Bollywood movie. Keep your hands off my nose. In fact, keep your hands off every part of me" said Misha, stalking off grumpily.
Piya was incensed. Yesterday, she'd been "lovely" in pink. Today, Misha was "lovely" in yellow. Abhay was quoting poetry at Misha. He'd flicked her nose. He'd never even come close to Piya's nose. He'd kissed her yesterday because she looked pretty, he said. Was he going to kiss Misha today? No. No. Not happening. He is NOT kissing Misha. "Over my dead body", said Piya, muttering under her breath. She strode off to class leaving Kabir wondering if he'd woken up in an alternate universe. One in which Misha was a girl, and Abhay was a nice guy who liked to flirt. It was too bizarre, he thought walking off to class.
Class was hilarious that day. Piya sat next to Misha and glowered at Abhay all through. Misha growled at anyone who dared to talk with her including the teacher. Kabir seemed resigned to the fact that today was a weird day and things weren't going his way. He made no attempt to speak with Piya or Misha, which left him nothing to do but pay attention in class. This led to the singularly exceptional feat of him actually learning something about the formation of the Indian National Congress. Abhay alone seemed satisfied. He was quietly amused at the situation playing itself out around him. Jealous Piya + Harassed Misha+ Confused Kabir = Happy Abhay. Simple math, he thought to himself.
Everyone filed out of the room after class, save Abhay. He bent to pick up something that was dropped on the floor. He looked at it, and said to himself, "Now for the hard part." He sat quietly waiting for her.
"Looking for something?"
Piya whirled around to see Abhay perched on a bench in the classroom. He had her blue scarf in his right hand and appeared to be examining it carefully.
"That's mine", said Piya, marching up to him. "Can I have it back please?"
"Only if you're nice to me."
"Give it to me" said Piya reaching for it.
Abhay put it out of her reach by standing up and raising his hand.
"I said, be nice."
"What do you want from me, you big brute?"
"Uh-uh. No name calling. Play nice Piya."
"OK, Great Lord Abhay Raichand, may I please have my scarf back?" said Piya in an exasperated tone, reaching for her scarf. Abhay held her off with one hand, putting the scarf out of reach with the other.
"That's better. Now, a kiss for a scarf. Fair exchange, I think" ,said Abhay.
"No way. I'd sooner kiss a frog."
"I know you're generous with your kisses, but a frog is stooping a little low. Even for you." spat Abhay, his black eyes flashing.
"What the hell does that mean? What are you, my father? What's it to you who I kiss?" Piya was yelling now, her face flaming red with anger.
"I saw you kiss Kabir that night" Said Abhay angrily. He had both arms around her now and was holding her hands tightly behind her back. If there was one thing that Piya Jaiswal hated, it was someone trying to control her. She writhed her hands away from his grip and pushed him away. Her eyes were filled with rage as she said, "Listen to me Abhay Raichand. No one. But no one tells me what to do. Not you. Not anyone. You are not my father or brother or friend. Or anything. You are nobody to me. And you have no business telling me whom I can and cannot kiss, hug or sleep with. I'll do what I damn please. Besides, you were the one quoting poetry at Misha today Mr.Casanova."
"Jealous?" asked Abhay raising an eyebrow.
"Not in the least. My scarf please." Said Piya in the firmest tone she could muster.
"Your lips say No. Your eyes say otherwise. You are jealous."
"Go to hell."
"OK. But I'm taking your scarf with me."
"Gimme that" she leapt towards his raised hand. Since he was about three-quarters of a foot taller than her, he held it away from her with ease.
And then, almost as if he was bored with this game, he stretched out the scarf between his hands and deliberately ripped it into two. It was an old, well-worn scarf. It tore easily, the threads hanging sadly at the edges where he'd ripped it. He threw it at her callously.
"There. Take your precious scarf and get out of here." He said cruelly. His eyes were grey though, the grey of a sad, gloomy overcast sky.
"Why? Why'd you do that? It was my mother's scarf. I loved it dearly" said Piya, tears streaming down her face.
"Because I don't care. I give a damn about your scarf, your dead mother or your feelings" he said unforgivably.
Piya slapped him. She did it without thinking. When he spoke of her mother disrespectfully, something within her snapped. She reacted. Then, she ran out of the room sobbing.
Abhay sat there for a while. It was done, he thought sadly. She hated him now. I have a poem for you too Piya, he thought, invoking Ghalib.
"Ishq Mujhko Nahin, Vehshat Hi Sahi
Meri Vehshat Teri Shohrat Hi Sahi
Katta Keeje Na Taalluk Hamse
Kutch Nahin Hai To Adavat Hi Sahi"
(Translation-
If not love, then let it be madness
Even if my madness is your fame
Don't sever these ties with me
Even if nothing but enmity remains)
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