She continues, ‘All you didn’t do was score marks. Not because you didn’t sit with books, you would—’
‘I was just dumb.’
‘Not everyone does well in school, Daksh. You were sincere. What could we have scolded you about? Nothing.’
‘You could have pushed me during the boards. I would have . . .’
Mumma starts to laugh. She wipes her tears. She holds my hand like she used to before Rabbani was born. It used to be embarrassing, but now I realize how much I miss it.
‘You were in the eleventh grade when Rabbani was born,’ she says. ‘You were there whenever I needed you. You stayed up so many nights. One cough and you would come running from your room. You scored 73, it was a miracle. How many students in your class can match that? Not one. Your Baba and I kept feeling guilty about the timing. Baba, especially. Kept saying we destroyed your career. I kept telling him there’s more to life than a career. We got to see how you were, how you would be as a man. That means a lot more to me, to your Baba. You’re a nice boy, Daksh. Who cares about these little things? Who cares if you’re not ambitious or you don’t know what you want to do in life? For me, the way you are, you’re already winning in life.’
I look away. The last thing I want to do is cry in the middle of a damned museum.
So I say, ‘Fine, I will add that to my CV.’
‘Look there,’ Mumma says and points at Baba.
He’s struggling to keep Rabbani from knocking over artefacts. She continues, ‘You got a 100 long before your results were announced. You were with us. That’s all that matters. What are marks? Nothing. Here today, forgotten tomorrow. We will always be around.’
12.
Aanchal Madan
Our bus waits for us at the main gate of the hotel to take us to the airport. We had been excited and nervous about this trip for months. I had dreamt about it, and it’s been life-changing. I feel like I’m a different person from the one who walked in. Gaurav tells me it’s because now I’m at the precipice of my dreams, my family’s dreams, coming true. I’m close to the finish line.
Which is true. Ever since my results, I feel like I have gained a few inches, walking a little taller. I lied to Gaurav when I told him that I feel like I deserve to be here. But now I believe it. Now, I will be in the top 0.1 per cent in India. SRCC will open those doors for me. I’m three years away from the top placement on the campus and earning my own money. And who knows? I might even choose to do an MBA and leapfrog into more success. What difference would there be between these people and me? I will be paying for my flights, have an American Express card in my purse and complain about faulty air conditioning in my hotel room.
All that I dreamt of is now within my grasp. It’s sweeter because I earned it—I have fought and clawed for every inch and it’s mine.
Maa told me yesterday to keep being humble. Baba had nodded too. I think they are just scared. We are entering the unknown. I have caught them staring at the marks. As if they will change. I have told them, this is for life, the marks are etched in stone and so is the trajectory of my future. Maa said a prayer, to be humble on my behalf. I told Maa I will tattoo the swastika permanently to thank God.
When I board the bus, Daksh is already there. He’s sitting on the last seat, staring blankly out of the window. I see him unshaven for the first time. He looks tired, unkempt. The fresh summeriness I associated with him is gone.
I cough to get his attention. He looks at me. He forces a smile and then goes back to staring at the hotel staff loading our suitcases in the belly of the bus. Every now and then, I turn back to check on Daksh. Now he has headphones clamped over his ears, his head resting on the window sill. It seemed like he had handled his break-up pretty well, but now that I see him going back, maybe I had read him wrong.
He looks sad.
The bus leaves the hotel.
I know I will never forget Daksh.
When I look back at the moment of my board results years from now, I’d remember he was the person who checked my results. I will remember the joy on his face as if it wasn’t my result but his. It was just pure joy and celebration. He looked at me like I had won over the world. He had no concept of struggle, of achievement, and yet he was happy for me. Between that morning and now, I have shared my results with many people, and many have said they are happy for me. But, apart from my family, his celebration, his reaction was the purest of them all. His one-person audience applause made me feel like a rock star. Not even Vicky, who kept talking about his options, matched it.
I will never forget it.
Daksh feels like a friend now—my first one after Vicky.
At the airport, I lose him.
I load the suitcases on to the conveyor belt. I give our identification documents to the airline staff. I do it like I have done it a million times before. None of the nervousness of the first time. We all settle down wherever we can find seats. All this while, Gaurav hasn’t looked up from Daksh’s Nintendo Switch once.
‘Don’t forget to return it to him,’ I say.
He doesn’t listen. He’s transfixed.
I look around. I can’t find Daksh.
I kill time by replying to all the congratulatory messages.
