Wrecked Souls: ". . . Sometimes, the Person You're Willing to Take a Bullet for Might Be the One Behind the Trigger."

By Nikita Achanta

Asocial. Introvert. Cold. Indifferent. One could have easily used these four words to describe me before I went to boarding school. And boom. Something changed. I never had true friends or someone I could sit and spend quality time with, but then I found someone who had a sullen madness in her eyes one could not teach. She changed the person I was. She pulled me up when I was at my worst and crying for help. People could not stand the real side of me, so I built myself a maska mask to hide all that I really was. No one, truthfully, can stand a chaotic mind. No one can handle a catastrophe, but you eventually find someone who can. I did. Catastrophe finally met disaster, and for the better or for the worse, this disaster was a part of my life. She made me fall in love with myself all over again, for I thought I was a true goner when I joined boarding after twelve years of day school. Lost and insecure, she found me.

This is not a tale of innocence lost but power gained. My name is Nikita Achanta, and this is my story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Apr 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482848496

Nikita Achanta

Nikita Achanta is eighteen years old and is also the author of “A Beautiful Catastrophe.” She is a fangirl of several things and spends her life obsessing over celebrities and fictional characters.

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Copyright © 2015 by Nikita Achanta.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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.

Partridge India

000 800 10062 62

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Contents

Foreword

Acknowledgement

A Recap Of July’13 – April’14

Senior Year Sc – Arts B [2K14 – 2K15]

Chaos

Calamity

Sunshine.

Disaster.

Disaster

Calamity, Chaos.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Calamity, Sunshine.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster, Other People.

Calamity.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Calamity.

Sunshine.

Disaster.

Home.

Calamity.

Other People.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Calamity, Disaster, Sunshine.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Calamity.

Disaster.

Calamity.

Disaster, Chaos.

Disaster.

Calamity.

Other People.

Disaster.

Other People.

Disaster.

Calamity.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Calamity, Sunshine.

Disaster.

Catastrophe.

Other People.

Other People.

Catastrophe.

Other People.

Chaos.

Prize Giving (Pg).

Pg.

Pg.

Home.

Calamity.

Disaster.

Chaos.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Calamity, Sunshine.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Other People.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Other People.

Disaster.

Other People.

Disaster, Chaos.

Chaos.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Disaster.

Other People.

Other People.

Other People.

Other People.

Other People.

Catastrophe, Disaster. Nikita Achanta, Skye R. Sharma.

Catastrophe, Chaos. Nikita Achanta, Shruti Das.

Catastrophe, Disaster. Nikita Achanta, Skye R. Sharma.

Things Chaos Has Taught Catastrophe.

Disaster’s Words Of Wisdom.

Foreword

Any resemblance to any person in real life – living or dead – is only sheer coincidence. This is a work of fiction and an overly active imaginative mind.

Everything is not what it seems.

…or is it?

Acknowledgement

Ma. Dad. Bhai. For everything.

Shubhii. Stuti. Maria. To name a few.

Ikroop, because I wrote the book in a diary she gifted to me on my 18th birthday.

Thank you!

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I am not going to sugar-coat it for you, son. I am going to tell you the cold truth and you’re going to listen, because sometimes, the person you’re willing to take a bullet for is the one behind the trigger, said my internet best friend, Manisha Singh, to me.

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One last time, for Shubhii.

Because it will never be over for us.

Hey, Shubhii? This is our living legacy.

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Dear reader,

To be very honest, after all the things that happened back in school – things that aren’t even mentioned here – I really didn’t feel like putting this book out there. It just didn’t feel right because I was totally and absolutely destroyed for someone my age. I felt like the world’s weight was on my two shoulders and that nothing could pull me out of my misery anymore. A point came when I actually thought I couldn’t feel anything because nothing mattered to me anymore. I thought I was a goner. At one point, I lost everyone I cared about and my soul felt heavy because of the dust which it gathered. My wings felt rooted to the ground because of the sorrow that burdened them. So when I reread this book’s draft, I told myself I wouldn’t look at it ever again because some parts – rereading some parts – poked a sharp stick somewhere and the pain struck back. It hurt.

My mom even told me that fifteen years later, I might look at this book and might not like what I’d written as a ‘kid’. I thought of listening to her and foregoing the publishing process and just keeping ‘Wrecked Souls’ as a word document in the Documents folder on my Mac, never to think of it again, but then I thought to myself, Why the heck not?

I have nothing to lose, right?

And the only things we regret are the chances we didn’t take and the choices we didn’t make.

So, dear person who is currently reading these words, I don’t care how old you are – whether you are someone who just entered her teens or someone sitting in a rocking chair – know this that you eventually meet someone who is willing to clean up even the dustiest parts of your soul, no matter how utterly destroyed, or rather, how wrecked you are.

In the words of Green Day, It’s something unpredictable but in the end it’s right, I hope you had the time of your life.

That’s about it.

Happy reading!

With a smug grin,

Nikita Achanta

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Here we go.

(Shazam!)

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My person

Skye R. Sharma. P-702. 02nd September 1997.

Drugs of choice? Imagination. Ambition. Adrenaline. Power. And cookies, said Skye, as cocky as ever, somewhat referring to me when she spoke of ambition and power. We were the perfect two.

She’s my person. Stay away from her or I will scratch you viciously.

Yes, a lot of things happened between us.

Yes, I’m still possessive of her.

More like over possessive.

My name is Nikita Achanta.

I became an author at the age of 17. You can find out more about me by reading ‘A Beautiful Catastrophe’.

You’re reading this. I’m 18 now and I’m writing yet another novel based on my life. My story is weird. I am weird. People who have read my previous book and know me personally tell me I’m a very different person in the book from what I am in person. I suppose I am. I’m a lot different on paper than who I am in person. What I am on paper is the truth. It’s what I’ve always been. I’m two sides of a coin in person. I fake things easily. I’ve taught myself to. I believe in suffering on the inside and faking a smile rather than telling people what’s wrong with me. I don’t like sympathy, or getting a sorry face from a person. I cannot take it. I’m not an easy person to handle.

I’m a mess.

I’m a catastrophe.

And I have a wrecked soul.

People cannot stand the real side of me, so I build myself a mask – a mask to hide all that I really am. No one can stand a chaotic mind. A messy one, that. My head feels like a storm most nights.

No one has the time or the strength. Sometimes I don’t either.

But you learn to live with it. I did.

No one can handle a catastrophe, but you eventually find someone who can.

There are certain people you just keep coming back to – some people just as catastrophic as you, just as insane, and just as much in need of saving as you.

I was drowning.

I needed help.

I needed to be saved.

There is no true valour in a false quarrel.

A catastrophe needs to be saved too.

I needed help more than ever when I left for boarding school in grade 11th.

All alone. Scared. Frightened. Suffering on the inside.

I needed to be saved. And fast.

I joined Williams College Girls’ School at the age of 16, and that’s where I met chaos and disaster and calamity… and a drop of sunshine. Not in the literal sense. In the same sense as I am a catastrophe.

A recap of July’13 – April’14

I joined MCGS in grade 11 th .

I wasn’t sent to a boarding school because my parents hated me. I was sent to a boarding school because they loved me too much that they couldn’t afford to see me drown in the sea of people who did nothing with their lives. That’s the thing about being from a small town in the middle of nowhere – they’re all frogs in a well that are too afraid to reach out to bigger avenues. My brother describes it that way. He says I was the only ‘frog’ brave enough to try something new rather than just ‘sticking to the status quo’.

Because that’s what he did.

You can’t always stick to the stuff you know. There’s nothing different about it. I couldn’t stand being just another face in the crowd. I don’t know about my ex-batch mates back at my old school but I can’t stand being mainstream. It’s just not my style. I guess it runs in the family.

My mother was the happiest person when I got through to Williams. She’d always wanted me to go to Williams; given its reputation, any mom would, I guess.

July term at Williams was ruthless. I felt like a lost puppy most of the time. It’s funny when you’re chucked out of your safety zone into a sea of piranhas where everyone hates everyone but no one says it on anyone’s face because they’re gutless and are worried about their oh-so-precious image. That’s what happened to me, and it hit me bad.

I didn’t really have friends at first, and I didn’t mix much with the ‘new’ girls who joined with me. They were all too restricted. I definitely couldn’t take that. I mean, I became cool with them later but definitely not at first.

There were five houses in total – Margay (House Colour – White), Puma (House Colour – Blue), Serval (House Colour – Red), Jaguar (House Colour – Green), and Cougar (House Colour – Yellow). Each house had a particular reputation. Margay had a reputation of being a ‘cheer leader sort of hub’, Puma was the sports hub, Serval was considered to be the ‘politics’ hub, and Jaguar was the academic hub.

I was put into Cougar house – the house with the reputation of being the most ‘chilled out’ house, due to lack of imposition of rules, I suppose. Thank god for that. I could keep my iPod Touch without worrying it’d get caught.

My dorm consisted of 17 more people whom I got along with okay, I suppose. Here’s a quick note about the dorm:

Sia: She had science. She played hockey. She was great at everything she did.

Lakku: She had commerce at first but then she shifted to arts. She was best friends with Sia, played hockey, and couldn’t care to give a crap about what people thought of her.

Sugun: She was amazing. I just wish I’d got to know her better, but she left school before our class 11th final exams even started. God knows why.

Palak: Amazing dancer and a really good footballer with a love for Pink Floyd.

Kittu: She was extremely sweet. Never said no for anything. I was glad I met her.

Molly: She always made me laugh. Never once failed to.

Aisha: She was introduced to me as the blonde of the dorm, before I could even get to ask her what her actual name was.

Smita: Really smart girl who told me she’d kill me in my sleep if I didn’t stop acting like the psychopath that I was.

Maria: She had science (Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Psychology and English) and she was an ace. She was a great violinist and an even better friend. She’d never fail to make me smile. Good things come in small packages, I suppose, because she was really short. Oh, and she was my ‘in-house bestie’.

Gullu: She was in my section and I don’t know about others, but she was really sweet to me and extremely helpful.

Ambi: House captain and someone I was slightly fond of.

Duff: I was fond of her at first but then we grew apart.

Ravina: She had commerce and I really liked her. She was a brain. She was a great dancer, too – kathak.

Adii: She had arts. I liked her as well. She was one of my good friends in the dorm.

Maya: She had science, and she was typical beauty with brains.

Tejaswi: I hated the living daylights out of her. The end.

Bhavya: She joined with me but she was too involved with the ‘new’ girls that it never felt as though she was a part of the dorm.

That was the dorm.

I was in Pre-SC Arts B (Pre-Senior Cambridge Arts B) – the section without maths and which actually felt like a typical humanities section. My subjects were English, Sociology (Should’ve opted for Optional Literature instead), Psychology, Economics, Physical Education and History (Which I dropped in 12th, causing my World History teacher – also our principal – to call me a traitor jokingly).

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I was particularly fond of my psychology teacher, ma’am Lawrence. She was pretty different. She was the one who used to give me pep talks every time I was down, since I didn’t really have anyone to talk to. She was closed off, an introvert, cold on the outside but pretty warm at heart. She was considered to be one of the strictest teachers at school because she believed in the concept of ‘rules’. But I still liked her. She was tall, lean, had curly hair, eyes the colour of hazel. She was the one who made me fall in love with the subject of psychology, and she was a pretty major part of my first year at Williams (which is why she needs to given a mention in this book). The only reason I cried after scoring an 89 on 100 in my psychology term one paper (November) was because she always expected a lot out of me, and I’d felt as though I’d let her down. But she just held my hand in hers and taught me one of the most important lessons of my life.

All you have to do, she’d always say, is make sure you don’t lose yourself in the attempt of living up to expectations, whether they’re yours or anyone else’s. You do not exist to please. That always made me feel better. She was always there for me, so she used to say. And I used to believe her too. Worst was when I found out she was leaving school after my 11th. It killed me on the inside, adding more to it that I was the last person to find out. Thing about me is that I don’t get attached too easily, but when I do, I can’t stand a goodbye from that person. Same was in her case. She said she’d leave on 13th March, my finals got over a day before that.

But whatever.

Everything from the 12th of March to the 19th of March is a blur. Rather, I choose not to think of it.

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I think one of the highlights of my Williams life was the 30th of January, 2k14 – The Badge Passing Ceremony.

The Vice Principal announced from the stage, as the crowd of over 800 students and I don’t know how many staff members roared and cheered, And the designation of the Western Music Head goes to C-1855, Nikita Achanta!

At first, when I heard the announcement, I couldn’t believe my ears. I clearly remember sitting next to Chitra and telling her, That sounds familiar. I remember her yelling, "That’s you, you jackass!"

I was in a daze. Surprise. For two days, I did not know what I’d gotten the badge for. Best part was that Tejaswi was expecting the badge because she was a ‘good’ drummer, but guess what? I was a better guitarist. And singer. So as I walked off the stage with the badge, Skye – who was also the new Dance President – ran up to me and hugged me tightly and said, almost screaming, Congratulations, Nikita! We get to work together now. And I remember simply laughing and replying, Good luck taking care of an emotional wreck, Skye. She simply smiled and nodded her head, replying, Likewise.

7 months in at Williams and I was shouldered with one of the most major departments. I was ecstatic. I was to work with the other five cultural heads, which included Ayesha as the Hindustani Music President, Kaushiki, Sushmita and Annanya as the Bal Sabha Presidents, and Skye as the Dance President.

And this is where the journey began. Owing to the metallic piece of prestige pinned up on my blazer, I met disaster. Not literally, but I found the disaster to my catastrophe.

Well, I didn’t really meet her on the 29th of January, 2k14, I’d met her long back in July’13, I just didn’t know how important she’d be to me. Because honestly, when I first met P-702, I had no idea Skye R. Sharma would mean so much to me. She was the Dance President, and I was the Western Music President, and we went through it all together.

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SENIOR YEAR

SC – ARTS B

[2K14 – 2K15]

Chaos

H ow Shruti and I became friends: Shruti’s first words to me were, and I quote, Okay, so the English department wants you to write a 1000 word short story. I’ll get back to you with the topic.

"A thousand words?" I asked, my eyes widened as the two of us stood outside Pre-SC Arts B.

Shouldn’t be too much for you, considering you’ve written a book due for publication, she smiled subtly.

How did you— I asked, confused, because we’d never spoken to each other.

Shruti shrugged her shoulders and replied, cutting me off, I know a lot of stuff about people. I’m kind of creepy like that.

And with that sentence, she sounded so much like me.

But I simply glanced at her watch around her left wrist and then I looked at her and said confidently, Your watch was broken two weeks ago and just got fixed last week. Shruti’s jaw dropped a bit and she asked, How did you know that?

I’m an observer, it’s kind of creepy; sorry, I chuckled.

Shruti shook her head and said, smiling, We should talk sometime.

That was my first conversation with Shruti Das; that’s how I became friends with her.

My height. Dark brown eyes. Long, black hair. Psychopathic tendencies – just like me.

She was a really good friend. She helped me through so much. We were really similar. Obsessive tendencies, over-observant skills, good taste in music, Supernatural lovers, and hardcore fangirls.

But we used to argue a lot over small things, owing to our differences of opinions, but they were never bitter arguments. And we’d always end up learning one new thing or the other. And we didn’t need to raise our voices or anything because we figured that the volume of our voices would never increase the validity of our arguments.

A wise man once said, There are no better friends than those forged through honest and often heated argument.

And guess what? I’d met my match.

In Supernatural terminology, she was the Dean to my Sam.

Calamity

H ow Chitra and I became friends : I walk into class Pre-SC Arts B on my first day in July’13 and the first thing I hear – Hey, you, new girl! Come sit in front of me! And I see this short, lean, skinny girl, sitting on the second desk telling me to come sit in front of her so that she’s not asked to shift in front.

But that’s not it.

We didn’t become friends then.

We started talking a week later. I found her reading John Green’s Fault In Our Stars and I couldn’t help but notice because I loved that book. That’s how she and I struck off our first conversation, owing to our undying love for books.

But that’s still not it.

We became friends during our trip to The Parliament, in New Delhi, in September’13. Pretty far off.

We sat next to each other on the bus when we were being taken from the train station to the hotel. I noticed a bulldog name tag on her bag and that’s how we started talking. She told me about her two dogs, Archie and Bruno, and how she was going to get another dog soon. Archie was a Pug and Bruno was a Labrador. She couldn’t stop talking about her dogs and how much she loved them. Then I told her about how I had a German Shepherd named Max but how I always wanted a Golden Retriever.

That’s ho.w we started talking.

Normally, you’d expect two teenage girls to talk about boys and crushes and flowers and shoes. That wasn’t our case though. The only time we did talk, we talked about books and dogs.

That’s how we became friends.

Chitra wasn’t an ordinary person. Neither was she normal nor was she easy to handle. She was somewhat like me, the only difference being I’d show an emotion every now and then. She wouldn’t.

She was a diamond on a landmine.

A landmine I didn’t mind stepping on.

But even a landmine blows up at one point or the other, and the casualty rate can be very high.

Sunshine.

H ow Megha and I became friends : Megha and I were desk-side partners throughout 11 th grade. She was a talker. I wasn’t. Isn’t that how every friendship starts, though? Being in the same class, sitting next to each-other?

That’s how our journey began.

Megha was a drop of sunshine, actually. My dark-self couldn’t handle so much of happiness at first, but then I started growing fond of her. She was eccentric most of the time. But I enjoyed sitting next to her. She made sitting at the first desk fun. She’d make me laugh by passing comments on teachers’ dressing sense and teaching styles, enacting them out during our free classes, and I would help her complete her assignments on time, and she’d always be thankful.

I was never fond of hugging. I found it unnecessary exchange of germs. I’d avoid it as much as I could. But people at Williams used to hug each other all the time for no reason at all.

It was Megha who taught me to hug. She’d occasionally give me a side-hug from my left, owing to her affectionate side. I didn’t like it at first but then I started getting used to it. It was because of her that I started hugging people to show them I care about them, otherwise, I just used to write notes and letters telling them so. I never showed it physically, but thanks to Megha, I started hugging people.

And that’s how everyone told me I was such a ‘bear hugger’ and ‘the best hugger in the whole world’.

Megha was tall. She was a great athlete. She had brown long straight hair, her eyes the same colour, and she and I shared a certain love for Johnny Depp.

Disaster.

H ow Skye and I became friends : It was my second week at Williams when I walked into the library with my psychology book in my hand to complete an assignment we needed to research on. I walked in and saw this girl sitting at one of the tables, completing her psychology work. I casually went up to her and asked, Uh, excuse me? But what chapter are you on? She looked up at me, her eyebrows raised. I continued, And I am so sorry if you’re a senior. Obviously, I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of a senior. She just chuckled and replied, shaking her head, I’m not a senior, and we’re still on the first chapter.

I sighed a sigh of relief and said, smiling, Oh, thanks. I’m Nikita, by the way, and I reached my right hand forward as I smiled my usual crooked smile.

She smiled at me, her smile tilting slight to the right, her black eyes gleaming, she replied, taking my hand in hers, And I’m Skye.

No offence, but why is your name ‘Skye’? It’s not very Indian, I shot out a question.

Don’t even ask. Mom and dad wanted a unique name and – I don’t know – I think Skye fit. It’s pretty cool. I like it, she smirked.

And just like that, I’d made a new friend.

Funniest part was that I didn’t know her name for the first one-week of our friendship, only because her name was different and I’d never heard it before.

What’s even funnier is that her name is one I cannot forget now.

Skye intrigued me the most. She had commerce but she didn’t have maths. She had psychology instead of math, which was, according to me, really cool. We had four out of six subjects in common – English, psychology, physical education and economics. I liked her, even though we’d only say an occasional hi to each other in the corridor. But there are certain people who make you happy simply by existing. She was one of those people.

Skye was about the same height as me, just an inch shorter than me. Same build. She had jet-black hair that almost reached half of her back, and her eyes were jet black and bloody magnetic. Plus, her eyebrows were extremely similar to mine. Two inverted tick marks. We used to glare similarly – her right eyebrow cocked up and my left eyebrow. Every time she used to glare at me or give me a look from the side, I used to feel chills down my spine, because I used to imagine myself giving someone a death glare. And it was bad. She had a deadly glare. Also, our smiles were the same – tilting towards the right.

I liked Skye.

She was everything I could never be. She was nice and sweet and friendly, and she was a very graceful dancer. All of this I could never be. But boy, oh boy, she was way more than that. Like I said, she was a lot like me – and she had a storm raging on the inside.

Staying with her taught me a lot of the afore mentioned skills, though. Except for the dancing part. I could never do that. My guitar skills had to make up for that.

Which is why we were the perfect two. She was a brilliant dancer and I was a pretty decent singer-cum-guitarist.

The reason why I was glad I got the badge for one of the six cultural heads was that I got to know Skye.

And I loved us.

Disaster

19th July, 2k14.

T he final match to decide the winner of the interhouse football competition was being played between Cougar - my house - and Jaguar house, and Jaguars were leading one to nil.

Being the football enthusiast that I was, I was interested in playing the match but with my sprained ankle, it didn’t help my case much, so I watched from the sidelines. And coincidentally - and fortunately, if you call it that - I was sitting next to Skye as the two of us sat on a green bench, with Gargi standing at the side and cheering for her house, Cougar’s opposition.

So Skye and I were simply talking, having a normal conversation, when I noticed that she didn’t laugh much. Which was sad, because she had a beautiful laugh. So I tried cracking a few jokes to try and make her laugh.

So a rabbi, priest and pandit walk into a bar— I started off with the seventh joke, and before I could even think of finishing, Skye said, shaking her head lightly, Don’t even try it, Nikita. It won’t work.

I sighed and dropped my arms by my sides, which is when my house scored an equaliser, levelling the scores 1-1. I rejoiced and clapped and stood up on the bench enthusiastically, happiness everywhere. Skye looked up at me and said as I continued to good around, Careful, you’ll fall down and crack open your skull.

I looked at her inquisitively and quickly crouched next to her on the bench. Curiosity sparked in my eyes as I asked, You care?

Skye simply chuckled and replied, keeping one hand on my shoulder, pretending as though she was about to push me off the bench, I might if you didn’t act like such a nutjob.

I simply laughed it off, pushed her hand away and stood back up. "Oh,