21 May 1999
More than the strong-jawed, long-limbed devil Sahil Ahuja, I hate myself for what I’m feeling today. Today was our first dissection. The twelfth grade biology teacher had promised us that. But I reached the biology lab twenty minutes late and saw Brahmi’s scalpel hovering over a pinned frog. On her side was Sahil Ahuja smiling his satanic smile. Brahmi lowered her scalpel and cut through the frog with the dexterity of a surgeon. The teacher and Sahil stood by her side and encouraged her. The teacher then made Sahil finish what Brahmi had started. Once they were done, they both accepted the pats with wide smiles.
I hid from them.
From the laboratory, they went to the canteen and had two Gold Spot cold drinks. Not once did Brahmi look over her shoulder to see if I had come. They were in the canteen for an hour. My blood boiled. Sahil Ahuja was a liar. It was all a plan, I could see that now. He would have orchestrated the chits, rendered a fake, charming apology to claw into Brahmi’s good books. I followed them to the bus they took home. Sahil had the gall to get down at her stop—he had insisted—and then take another bus home. What was this if not a shameless attempt to woo her? And why was Brahmi encouraging this wanton behaviour?
What made me angrier was what happened before I saw Sahil’s wicked plan in action.
The tyre of the first bus I took in the morning had burst and in the few seconds that the bus was out of control I saw my own death. I literally thought I would die. I was happy for a brief bit—like I am always when I picture myself dying—but then I didn’t want to.
I wanted to live!
You know why?
Because I had to get to school and share a scalpel and cut open a frog with Brahmi. For the first time in the longest while I wanted to live on, not because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone but because I wanted to stay alive for myself! In those few seconds—that seemed to last a lifetime—I didn’t see Maa–Baba or Dada, I saw her. I saw my future as clearly as day. In the future that flipped in front of my eyes like a graphic novel I saw myself clearing IIT, scoring much higher in the entrance test than Dada had, and then I saw myself graduating from IIT, then calling Brahmi’s mom, and informing them of my existence. I saw them liking me, and then in two more years I saw myself slipping into the possibility, quite randomly in a conversation with Brahmi, of us getting married, and then I saw her take it to her family and them agreeing to the union on grounds of my loyalty and success.
And the first thing I saw after this wonderful possibility of love and life was Sahil’s stupid face.
I called up at Brahmi’s house.
‘Raghu? Why didn’t you come to school today?’ asked Brahmi.
‘I was a little sick. So what did you do in biology today?’
‘You wouldn’t believe it! We dissected a frog. Oh, by we I mean Sahil Ahuja and I.’
‘Sahil was there?’
‘The frog had such a tiny heart! We saw it stop beating. It was sad and beautiful. Wait? Did you not come because you were scared?’
‘I wasn’t scared.’
‘The teacher might let us cut another one next week. Will you come? Sahil Ahuja is coming too.’
‘I will,’ I said.
‘Okay, fine. I will have to cut the call now. Taiji is coming! Okay? Now, bye—’
She seemed happy and I couldn’t be happy for her. Once again, my selfishness and envious nature confounds me.
I was the frog. Pinned to the dissection table, my tiny heart beating in full view of Sahil Ahuja and Brahmi, them nudging my little heart with their bloody scalpels and bright smiles, laughing, and then watching it beat its last beat. Lup-dup. Lup-dup. Dead. A flat line.
22 May 1999
Here are the board exam results.
Raghu Ganguly: 91.2 per cent
Brahmi Sharma: 91.2 per cent
Like I’m being mocked.
Sahil Ahuja scored a 62 per cent. I walked out of the school before Brahmi could spot me. She seemed happy high-fiving Sahil Ahuja and laughing with him like she was the only one who scored that high.
The mood at the Ganguly household was upbeat through the day.
‘I knew you would score more than me,’ said Dada, smiling. ‘But not by this margin.’
