Schoolmates: The Most Famous Couple in School

By Latika Sharma

Riya, a laudable, brilliant student, is meant for great achievements; perhaps thats why people cant fathom why she fell for a chronic defaulter like Kabir Sharma.

Kabir, a star basketball player, hardly bothered with studies or reprimands and concerned only with becoming the captain of the school basketball team, had never imagined that his heart would lose its residence for someone as modest and docile as Riya.

Forsaking her career, family, and reputation just to help him tide past his limitations, Riya is compelled to push Kabir away for his betterment. The anguish ends her in depression, from which Vikram liberates her. Vikram is someone who her parents think is the perfect life partner for Riya. He is also that second someone who falls in love with her.

They meet again, Riya, Vikramand Kabir.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jul 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477218266

Latika Sharma

Latika Sharma is a biology teacher and a Gold medalist in Life Sciences. She stays in Delhi and this is her second book. Her first book, Schoolmates, the most famous couple in school has been admired by children and young adults tremendously. Her writing is fresh, fast paced and rich in myriad tones. Her style attracts almost everyone who loves a modern romantic story.

Book preview

© 2012 by Latika Sharma. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/30/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-1825-9

(sc) ISBN: 978-1-4772-1826-6 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Riya

Prologue

Chapter-1

Chapter-2

Chapter-3

Chapter-4

Chapter-5

Chapter-6

Chapter-7

Chapter-8

Chapter-9

Chapter-10

Chapter-11

Chapter-12

Chapter-13

Chapter-14

Chapter-15

Chapter-16

Chapter-17

Chapter-18

Chapter-19

Chapter-20

Chapter-21

Chapter-22

Chapter-23

Chapter-24

Chapter-25

Chapter-26

Chapter-27

Chapter-28

Chapter-29

Chapter-30

Chapter-31

Chapter-32

Chapter-33

Chapter-34

Chapter-35

Chapter-36

Chapter-37

Chapter-38

Chapter-39

Kabir

Chapter-1

Chapter-2

Chapter-3

Chapter-4

Chapter-5

Chapter-6

Chapter-7

Chapter-8

Chapter-9

Chapter-10

Chapter-11

Chapter-12

Chapter-13

Chapter-14

Chapter-15

Chapter-16

Chapter-17

Chapter-18

Chapter-19

Chapter-20

Chapter-21

Chapter-22

Chapter-23

Chapter-24

Chapter-25

Chapter-26

Epilogue

Dedicated to my students, my real inspiration;

and Geeti, my first reader.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

No project is ever successful without a strong and dedicated team. Here, I would like to extend thanks and gratitude towards a few people who have been instrumental in my completion of this book. My people at Author-House, especially Thirdy Aguirre, who covered the last pound for me and Rey August, my check in co-ordnator. And Kathy Lorenzo, for her help.

My parents, who always saw the writer in me, my brother Mahavir, who encouraged me with appreciation every time Idscusseda plot with him, even when I knew he was tired and all he wanted was to rest.

My friends Anjali Ruchi, Deepika and most of all Geetika, who read my manuscript, one fine winter day as we headed towards the International Book Fair on the Metro. She was my first reader and had immense faith in my work.

And finally, this book was her dream as well as mine, my dear friend Dr.Monika, my person, who has awaited its successful completion more than anyone else. Everyone deserves one friend like you, Monika . . .

I thank you all.

Riya

"One rose can be my garden . . .

One friend . . . my world.

PROLOGUE

It was raining in Delhi. The weather was beautiful and serene, especially after the parched dry spell. Riya loved the rain. It brought back many memories-some bittersweet and in all shades of life. But on such cool October days with festivities in season and the kiss of approaching winters, she inadvertently recollected the sweetest memory of all-her love affair in school. So as was her habit these days, she sat down with her steaming brew of coffee and browsed through her now worn out, yet precious old school yearbooks.

Her hands were automatically searching his picture-the boy she fell in love with. Kabir Sharma, the Basketball captain. He was the pride of the school and the heart throb for many of the girls. He was also her boyfriend. And there’s had been a great love story! The entire school knew about it. Kabir had promised her that they would forever be ‘the most popular couple’ the school ever had. And they were so, in every sense of the word. Happy and so much in love ...

As is the law of the inevitable, life took the ball in its hands and spinned everything around. Things changed, she was married now, yet her love for him never wanned. How could it... he never left her thoughts. And days such as these, reminded her so much of Kabir and his warm feel around her.

Riya was lost in her thoughts when the doorbell rang. She sprang to her feet, expecting the arrival at this hour. It was her 5 year old son. He had been playing outside with his friends, in the rain. Her husband sometimes complained of making their son a sports fanatic, but it reminded her of Kabir even when he wasn’t there.

And so opening the door all she did was smile at her rain drenched son who was a splitting image of his dad. As he rushed inside spinning his basketball, Riya resumed her seat on the sofa near the huge window of her big and palatial bungalow and began her favourite and fulfilling journey, down the memory lane, sipping her coffee, and thinking back . . . to that day when her love story began ... thinking of Kabir.

CHAPTER-1

The summer vacations had ended ten days ago. School was alive with shrieks of laughter and stampeding feet running in its long corridors. Rooms were afresh with new distempers, boards and new classes. Everyone was busy narrating tales of their well spent holidays. Teachers were busy collecting holidays homework, allotting new students to different sections and making new monitors and captains. For Riya Sehgal it was just a new day at school with its studies as she never really did anything else during her holidays. Riya was now in tenth and already way ahead of her class. She had always been an out-standing student, a monitor and an excellent orator. Her parents and teachers alike had high expectations from her. She was also a simple yet smart and reasonably well looking girl. So, as was expected she was the class monitor again and was assigned many duties despite school being open only recently.

The day was proceeding by the time table. After recess they had physics practical. Now, this year they had Mr.Bimal Bonerjee as their physics teacher. He was known for being strict, especially with boys, and tolerated no frivolity during classes. So naturally there was pin drop silence in his lab. Everyone was silently doing what they thought to be correct, fitting apparatus and trying tomake sense of the concept when all of a sudden; there was a huge crash from one side of the lab! As all heads turned that side, and the lab assistant came rushing, Kabir Sharma, picked up a broken galvanometer and looked silly. Now, Kabir was all fingers and thumbs, dull in studies but brilliant in sports, especially basketball. He was also drop dead gorgeous which earned him less scolding from a few teachers and never a distasteful look from his friends, especially the girls. They were crazy after him and drooled over each time he even crossed them in the corridor. But Mr. Bonerjee disliked such students and Kabir happened to be from Tagore house as well, the rivals of Gandhi house of which Mr. Bimal was house master. So as Kabir Sharma stood there placing the broken pieces on the shining black granite slab, Mr. Bonerjee shouted, Mr. Sharma here, thinks he is spinning his ball. Yes! And he thinks physics to be too dull and boring. Yes! Do you know how much that costs?

Without looking at his teacher and hair fluttering in the ceiling fan’s gush Kabir replied in a dry and sordid tone—Sorry Sir.

This arrogant reply irked Mr. Bonerjee more and he said, That’s what you can be Mr. Kabir. Sorry. Definitely, you are nothing else in life. You are a big sorry for everyone.

Now Kabir was a young and an aggressive sports star. And such hard-line boys played rough with less tolerance. This attitude is in fact, a great help and a tactic in the sports fields but casts a bad shadow in academics. On Mr.Bonerjee’s remark the tips of Kabir’s ears reddened and looking sternly at his teacher he said, rather rudely, I din’t do it on purpose. I will pay for it.

Now this was extreme, and Mr. Bony, as his students called him (he was skinny as well), wasn’t going to let it pass. Get out!!!! he said calmly but so seriously that for a while many pupils stopped breathing.

Instead of apologising, as all students do, Kabir picked his pens and without even looking at his teacher, stomped out. Mr. Bonerjee gave a snort and spoke about undisciplined students and how they mock the education system and how they will end up big losers in life, but basically no one gave a second thought to the entire episode, not even Riya. By now everyone was accustomed to see teachers shout on Kabir and make him stand out of the class. He invited all of it, his arrogance and constant confrontation with teachers had earned him nothing more than a poor report card and a compartment in Science and Maths. And most were expecting he would fail, as clearly all that boy was capable of was shooting baskets.

Baskets! That was his passion. He was a different person on the court. His presence was conspicuous, not only by his excellent physique but also by his speed. It was evident how well and adept he was. He was applauded by all his coaches and loved by his team. His planning and executions were impeccable. The defences he prepared were impenetrable. His mind was like a live computer when it came to this game. He would practice for hours without any break. So naturally he was generally too tired for studies or tuitions. His parent’s futile efforts to enable him to score at least passing marks were failing miserably. His younger sister, who was studying in the same school, was a better student than him, a regular topper and scholar badge holder. It is quite ironical, but true for many families with children. His performance was often compared to her, to his great dislike. But he adored his sister and was secretly proud of her for being better at studies than him.

So, when Bony sir threw him out, he stood looking outside the windows beyond the corridor into the basketball court and automatically his mind got occupied with a series of moves. In his mind he was passing the ball to Tejas who dribbled it well and threw it over Ajay, towards Dev. Dev ran like storm and threw it to Husky and . . . BASKET! His hands were moving dribbling an imaginary ball. This he realized later when Mr. Bonerjee came out of the lab on ending the period for practical’s and tapped his shoulder.

You are such a shameless student. I really don’t know what is wrong with you. What a pity you are in Gandhi house this year. Mrs Shastri is going to have much to answer for. And you better watch your temper with the teachers, young man, or I’ll have to take you down to the principal’s office. Submit your file on time. said Mr. Bonerjee and whisked past him. Kabir nodded his head in disgust and followed his classmates back. No one said anything about the whole episode; even Kabir himself was used to such shams. And the only thing visible on his face was the mocking smile of Bony sir’s staggering walk, obviously done half in revenge and half to impress his female fans stepping out in the corridor after the school bell.

That was Kabir, as light as air and as vibrant as a carnival parade. Dev Verma, his best friend from first grade soon joined him and both walked along with us students as if it was a daily affair, which in fact it was, for Kabir stood out often, for misbehaviour and his growing impudence in many of our classes.

CHAPTER-2

I am an only child. My parents are very proud of me. My dad, now retired was then in the Army and was very strict and high in demands. Needless to say I was and still am, his weakest spot and he loves me dearly, but he never pampered me. So, even though they could have me picked by car, my folks preferred I sweat it out and let me come by bus. I came in the second trip as the first trip was made for primary students. So this left me about 35-45 minutes each day after school, free to myself. I had always utilized them doing either school work or reading a book. The basketball court was some distance from the school gate and most students often threw baskets there while awaiting their buses. Kabir was one of them, as he too went by the second trip. But on having made it to the school team, he needed to stay back for practices. So, these days he was coming by his bicycle.

I had not been paying attention towards him. I never did. He was just a roll number in my class. Everyone knew he was facing compartment exams in a few weeks, but he himself was oblivious to this fact, or so he pretended. I would never have tolerated such sassiness towards ones studies and therefore to me Kabir did not matter at all. Especially since he was caught just a month prior during the final examinations with Holi colours hidden in his empty pens and even inside the foil of his lunch! Needless to say his mortified parents were summoned yet again for a meeting with the Principal.

It never bothered him. A few words of apology and he was his old self. Absorbed in his sport and winning admiring glances from a bunch of girls sitting right beside the stands. Just a regular school day.

That day also I was busy completing my physics file. My bag was tucked neatly next to me and I was sitting on one of the stairs with pens and pencils in my hand. Next to me was my water bottle which was opened ominously. And all of a sudden! There came a huge thud and something big hit me on my forehead, toppling my file and the water bottle and throwing me to a side. Pens and pencils flew out of my hand and I was thrown back on the steps. For a second I din’t realize what hit me. Then I slowly regained my posture, straightened my skirt to cover my knees, lest it should have slipped higher and I had a look of disorientation written all over me. In a second there came a soft, yet panting voice of a boy, Sorry . . . I’m so sorry. I missed the ball. I called out your name but you din’t look up. It was Kabir. He was panting and sweat was dripping like rain from his chin. His hands were resting on his waist and he had a rushed but real apologetic look on his face.

You just din’t hear me . . . He repeated. I din’t mean to do it, the ball just flew too high . . .

It’s all right Kabir, I said raising my hand to rub my fore head which was throbbing with its first heavy blow of a basketball. I know it wasn’t intentional. No one would do it intentionally. I picked his basketball and rubbing my temple handed it to him. It was then that I realized that water was spilling all over my Physics file.

Oh! No . . . I’m really sorry . . . I’ll get you a new cover . . . I . . . I am sorry Riya, Kabir apologized again. His friends had started shouting his name and he was torn between standing there being a gentleman and being the sports buff that he was. So I removed him from his misery and said, Go, your team is waiting. Besides it’s my fault really, I should have put a plastic cover on this, I said looking over the now tatty wet pink cover.

I was upset, but not with him. I never expected anything out of him, not even an apology. He was known for being rough; apologising was not his cup of tea. Besides, I did not permit myself such callousness. I was meticulous and organised and this was definitely an error on my part.

I remember nothing major of that little incident. Nothing unique or special had occurred. Kabir was like that, he always wanted to make amends after every mistake. So when he looked quizzically at me, I couldn’t figure out what was in his mind. It was many months later, that I realize what he had been thinking. He had told me himself . . . he had recollected all the details.

But, nevertheless, this tiny trivial incident changed my life. And I still thank Tejas Ahluwalia for throwing that ball so high that day. By the way, Tejas was not just any other student. He had a big significant role in our love story. Tejas was Kabir’s rival, and that high throw was no mistake either. Still we thank him. Had it not been for him, I would never have had Kabir in my life.

CHAPTER-3

Next morning, during the physics theory period all students submitted their files. Before that, Kabir had come to me and pulling out a pink cover had said hurriedly, Here!

What is this for? I had asked. I was busy preparing my register and taking out my pens. Anjali who was my best friend and who sat next to me did not even bother to look up.

It’s for the cover I spoiled yesterday. I really am sorry.

Not spoiled, ‘ruined’ is a better word don’t you think? Anyway, I’ve already put a new cover on my file. I wasn’t expecting this. I had said, pointing at his hand.

Kabir looked baffled. Finally he asked, Well, what do I do with this cover?

Now it was my turn to look puzzled. I wasn’t expecting this kind of clumsiness, at least not from someone who was brilliant at sports. So somewhat peevishly I had said, Why don’t you put it on your file Kabir?

But my file isn’t here. Kabir began humming some tune.

Have you submitted it already? I had suddenly looked up at his face. I couldn’t believe he had beaten me to it.

No. No, I meant I have not brought it to school, it’s at my place.

But today is submission Kabir . . . And you recollect how Bony was pissed at you. I had asked seriously, trying vainly to reason with him.

You think I care for that Bony Phony . . . he is a lousy person and a shit teacher! Kabir had flared at the mention of Mr. Bonerjee.

Stop it Kabir! He is our teacher and will be for the full term. It’s bad that you don’t study but it’s worse to publically abuse your teachers! It’s not sir’s fault that you aren’t studious enough. I saw Kabir stiffen at my retort and his ears turn their characteristic crimson. Clearly he was mad at me, but oddly he said not a word of retaliation. He just turned and clomped away dumping the pink cover intentionally near the classroom entrance door. I then realized what mistake I had done. Kabir got this talk from everyone. His entire circle of people gave him this similar pep talk—his parents, our teachers and now me . . . his friends too. This really had hurt him but as it was the truth he din’t say a word in his defence.

When the class was about to be over that day, I was awaiting the call for collection of files. It was my duty, you see, to collect files and make lists of the defaulters. So when Mr. Bonerjee called for it, I promptly got up and went about my business. I intentionally went towards Kabir’s seat and asked dutifully for his file. He didn’t even look up.

Later, submitting the files, I had handed Mr. Bonerjee the defaulter’s list. As he began calling out their names, I sneaked a look at Kabir who was sitting at the end of the class, two rows behind me. He was preparing himself to get up, when the shrill call of the names ceased. The look on Kabir’s face matched Mr.Bonerjee’s. Both were definitely surprised by the absence of Kabir’s name in the defaulter’s list.

Mr. Bonerjee asked me, Riya did you write all names correctly? Not missed anyone?

No Sir. I spoke smoothly. Although his work is incomplete Sir, but as I din’t know what to do so I collected Kabir’s file also Sir. I had then looked at Kabir and smiled sweetly, hoping he would understand. He just looked puzzled and surprised.

Well, I’m not checking incomplete work. So Mr. Kabir, take your file back. Finish your work and resubmit it tomorrow. Clearly, Mr. Bonerjee was missing scolding Kabir and didn’t like the sound of his own words. Kabir walked up to the teacher’s table and looked confused. He was not aware; you see how his file looked! So he was having difficulty in locating it. Mr. Bonerjee thought Kabir only to be inept and didn’t suspect anything. I know Kabir looked many times in my direction that day, but I intentionally ignored him.

So, as soon as the school was over, he came running to me at the same spot where we had accidently first met. I was expecting this. I smiled as he approached me.

What the hell was that all about? What did you mean by doing this? I didn’t ask to be helped! He was annoyed but was not shouting at me.

’Thank you’ would have done it Kabir, I kept smiling at him. I was a bit surprised though. I did not expect a pleasant thank you, perhaps the boy did not know the gesture existed, yet to hear anger in his voice made me take a step down. May be he was not accustomed to being helped, I thought, or he is indeed a nitwit, as Anjali often termed him.

He was clearly not expecting this nonchalance from me. He just went mute and stared at me. Finally I giggled and said, Look Kabby, I am really sorry I spoke that way to you. So to compensate my erratic behaviour, I saved you from another reprimand.

Kabir’s eyes widened and he said, Well, whatever you just said, I didn’t get much of it except that you saved my as** . . . me . . . saved me. I suppose I must thank you for it. But don’t bother again. I did not miss the correction he had made in my presence.

I had gotten up and stood next to Kabir holding the latest edition of National Geographic across my chest. I said, Kabir, everyone needs help. And if you spent a fraction of effort at studies as compared to basketball, you would understand all that I just said.

Yeah . . . right. I don’t have time. Kabir gave his standard answer, looked sideways and ruffled his perfectly set hair in that typical boyish gesture.

Then make time Kabir. God knows you have an upcoming retest for Science and Maths. If you fail... they will throw you back in class Ninth. Now you don’t want that do you? I was just being my old rational, yet persuasive self.

To this Kabir didn’t reply but looked down. I now know, Kabir always went silent when he covertly agreed with another person. Somehow, the always vocal, Kabir Sharma got mum when he couldn’t contradict someone.

I continued, Look Kabby, don’t mind, you can borrow my previous year’s notes. They will help you. And I can lend you my Physics file as well. Get it back tomorrow ok. Finish the write up of practical.

Speaking of the file, do you carry a spare each day? And were you not scared, had Bony opened the file you submitted he would have fired you. It was completely blank! Yeah . . . Except for my name on it! Kabir looked amazingly at me.

That was a well calculated risk. I realized Sir would be too overwhelmed to see your file that he may not bother opening it when I would casually say it was incomplete. And that is exactly what he did. And No, I don’t carry spare file each day. But I do carry cash. I purchased it during recess, covered it with the same pink chart you had thrown away in the morning. I finished triumphantly patting my back. This brought a tiny flicker of smile on Kabir’s face. I always knew he was a handsome guy. But up close, I realized just how much, made my heart skip a tiny little beat, I think, back then.

Kabir, I’ve put my neck on line here for you. You better do the file work and submit it tomorrow. Just don’t tell anyone what I did. Ok. It’s our secret. OK? And don’t look so shocked. I too have guts man! I raised my collars and we both giggled at our own luck.

Later, I gave him my notes. He was surprised at my cleverness and boldness. He was not expecting me, the bookworm, to be this wicked. I guess that drew him to me. I began helping him by giving my notes and files regularly. And so our interaction grew beyond the Hi-Hello stage. I soon realised how prejudiced we students are in our teens. Kabir was a fine boy, a true gentleman in my presence and he did know that the gesture called ‘Thanks’ existed as he made it towards me numerous times in the coming weeks.

CHAPTER-4

The next day, right in the morning I went up to him and asked for my file back. Actually I wanted to see if he had completed his work as I was extremely perturbed and surprised at my own audacity. I mean what had I been thinking being all charitable and mushy? I knew his awesome looks did not catch my fancy but then there was no other valid explanation for my over-the-board helpful nature as well. I did not want Anjali to find out. She would never understand.

Mentally I had promised myself never to do such things again. What I din’t realize was that for Kabir I would take bigger risks, and pretty soon too.

Thanks Riya. Kabir handed me my file and smiled. I asked to see his work and he obediently handed that too. What I saw didn’t surprise me. His work was not more than a grade ‘C’, with poor sense of spacing and a poorer handwriting, internally, I winced at the banal quality of work he had done. It appeared that the eraser and scale did not exist for him. I looked from his file to his face with a retched expression on my face.

Kabir must have understood the discontented look on my face and said, I was kind of in a hurry.

Where is the circuit diagram? I asked questioningly looking directly into his eyes.

Kabir scratched his head in that characteristic boy like manner and said sheepishly, There was a circuit diagram as well?

KABIR! What do you mean by that? Look, I have clearly drawn one here. You will get me expelled for trying to help you. I nearly shouted at him. Imagine a physics file without circuit diagrams . . . it is like a paragraph in English without punctuation marks!

Sorry man, take it easy . . . I’ll make it now madam . . . just don’t get mad. He extended his hand to take his file, but I drew it back.

Forget it, I’ll make it. Diagrams require a bit of a talent as well, besides the desire and need and I doubt you carry pencils and scale with you anyway.

Without waiting for any answer I walked off to my seat. Ofcource Kabir was happy getting his work done by someone who chronically stood first in class. Needless to say, that day Kabir’s file was submitted, to his happiness and my relief. Only Mr. Bonerjee was astonished, but suspected nothing. It took him time to digest the fact that Kabir had completed his work, but then who would mind, definitely not a teacher.

After the school ended that day, I was not expecting Kabir to walk up to me near the court steps, but he came, rolling the ball on his index figure and said, Hi! Thanks again Riya. No one has helped me like this before. Thanks again I own you man!

Well . . . it’s no big deal. What are friends for hmm, and don’t call me man . . . So did you read my notes? I asked casually.

No, not yet. I went out yesterday night, so didn’t get time but will start today positively. And what should I call you then? Doll? Kabir looked at his basketball and not at me when he said this. I knew he was lying and trying to cover it up with flirtation.

Liar. That was all I said. He lost his balance and his ball fell off.

No honestly Riya ... I . . .

Stop! Stop it Kabir! I am not a teacher that you must lie to me. We are friends; at least have the decency of being honest. I picked up my Geography book and turned my back at him.

And don’t call me Doll! I said calmly yet with firmness.

I don’t know how long he stared at my back but I heard his breathing. He was again lost for words, as I was right and he realized it.

Kabir had walked off as his team mates began calling him for practice but my words rang in his head all the time. Because he was a fantastic player his game didn’t suffer, but that day he didn’t enjoy it. He missed a few times but no one noticed it. I suppose I had set the winds of change in motion. Something changed about him that day. I soon realized it, no later than the very next day.

CHAPTER-5

"I was at home, watching qualifying F-1 race, and was up till 1:30.There I said it. The truth." It was the secondperiod of the day and our maths teacher was a little late as usual. She preferred to eat her snacks and finish tea before leaving the staff room. Her oversized belly would clearly testify for this. So the entire class usually enjoyed at least fifteen minutes of unmonitored chatting time. It was during this that Kabir walked up to me and had confessed rather mutely. Honestly, I was surprised, but I didn’t show it. Kabir was perhaps expecting a sweet mellow response from me, as he often got from other girls for being so cute