Anjali never had thought about it, that a girl as vulnerable like her, as docile like her, could become famous one day. She lived in her own world, where, nobody else had any place. No, not a loner, she even had the love of her life, her caring boyfriend, some of the greatest friends an cool parents.. but yet, she considered herself alone. Nobody, understood her, all thought of their future, their life, but nobody helped her out, ever.
A topper since her very childhood, she was used to good marks and name and fame. 'Ms. Intelligent' everybody would call her. everybody would pamper her, praise her. She was used to all this. But one fine day, everything changed.
"So we have decided to put you in St. Joseph's. Great school, we have heard." her mother said to her.
"But, what wrong have I done?"
"Who told you that you did something wrong?"
"That's why you're getting me away from my friends!"
Her mother did not understand her symptoms. She was so used to the name and fame she received from this school, that she didn't want to get out of it all to live in a secluded world, where she was among thousands of others, bullying her unnecessarily. But her parents were adamant. "What I have said, is to be followed. No Pleadings, nothing." Her father made himself clear.
And that was when her life took a sharp turn. She stopped everything, her smile ceased, voice seldom heard, rare was her laugh. She was always under tension, always had something to worry about, she wanted to prove herself, to show that yes, she too was something, had a world to live in, but was forced out of it. She hated her life at Joseph. No one cared for her. She wanted to be heard, but ended up being a joke for the others. She stopped responding, she gave up. Her performance deteriorated, and with that, her relations.
"Is that the reason I changed your school? I don't understand why I waste all my money after you! You are worthless." Her angry father growled.
"If you continue bringing such marks home, my parents shall never accept you as my girlfriend. C'mon Pari, everyone goes through this phase when he has to get her school changed. Why behave like this?"
To this, she couldn't respond. She herself didn't know why she became like this. However hard she tried to come out of it, something held her, and that was when she realized, nobody would listen to her.
She sat up on a corner bench, secluded from the whole class, scribbling over a paper, while the whole class was paying attention to the teacher.
"And you, corner bench loner, tell me the working of a Van de Graaff Generator" She shouted at her, when she noticed that the girl wasn't listening to her. She didn't look up.
"To you, I say!"
She still didn't look up. Anjali poked her arm, when she finally stopped scribbling to look up, a blank expression on her face.
The teacher came to her place, and tore the paper of scribbles. She still was expressionless.
"Van de Graaff working!" She shouted.
Pari didn't answer. She really didn't care about any person named so. She just cared about what her man had told her the other day, "Look Pari, if you don't pay attention in class, I too wouldn't like to date a failure like you and spoil my entire life. Either mend your ways, or its time to part ours!" A drop of tear rolled down her cheeks.
The teacher repeated her words.
"I don't know it." She finally replied, realising that she was in the classroom, finally.
"How would you, yo only know how to piss people off! Now out of the room!"
Saara hung her head low as she went out of the class, sobbing, not understanding what to do, with a pencil in her hand. She stood there, muttering to herself about the ill treatment going on.
"So, you have decided you wouldn't change, Pari. I didn't know that you value your stubbornness more than my love for you! I thought after you score good, I would take you to my home, and say with pride, I have got a girlfriend, more intelligent than me. I am so proud of her!"
"That stings, ouch!! The bees!" She said.
"The bees?" Aryan looked around. "There aren't any bees!"
"There are. You can't see!"
"You are so mad! You don't care about what I say. Do you ever realise that I am your boyfriend?"
"Why not. You told me years ago, when you proposed me!"
"Have you ever realised how much I love you?"
"Love is life. You know, Once a man loved me, n he is my boyfriend!"
"He is me!"
"I know!"
"You are worthless!"
"The bees, they are, I agree, they do nothing else than hurt me!"
He went away, angry. That girl was out of control, he couldn't deal with her anymore. Pari returned to her classroom, her face devoid of guilt. Tearing a new page, she began scribbling again.
"Pari, why do you keep on doing it?" Anjali would ask.
"You know, a bee hurt me today! See, it's there!" Anjali too looked around, but couldn't find any.
"Perhaps its gone, and it won't hurt my bestie again!" She smiled and said.
But Pari insisted it was still there. Anjali diverted her mind to talk about other things.
"A man followed me up yesterday, he proposed me, and we are going to be married!" Pari said, her eyes shining.
Anjali wasn't convinced. She was worried about this.
"Have you recently started imagining things? Pari, you already have a boyfriend who is so worried about you, and moreover, you are just 14!"
"In Indian villages, you can marry at this age."
"But you never visited any village, you dwell in a city."
Pari laughed. Her behaviour was becoming difficult to understand. How could a girl with so much talents be changed to such an extent? Nobody knew.
"Aryan won't love me. He hates me. He doesn't understand me. I hate him too!" She kept on laughing while saying so.
Anjali didn't reply, she ate her lunch quietly. Aryan passed by, Pari saw him, waved, but he was already gone, another girl at her place.
Pari still laughed. "He hates me, I like it." she said, as she ran away somewhere, Anjali was least interested to spoil her food to search for a disturbed soul of a Pari. She ate her food, heartily, happy that she didn't have to share it with her.
The day went by.
Anjali reached her home, as she checked her bag while searching for the books she had to read that evening, the next day, there would be a test. What she got instead was a book of scribbles, Anjali saw them carefully, they were not waste at all, each depicted an intelligent story, of emotions, each picture carrying a link to the previous, and so on.. the story she could figure out was so emotional, that she soon got attached to it. Why, she told her own story, through her point of view, and nobody understood her!
She did have brains, she did have emotions, only nobody understood them. It told her a story of her life, how everything changed, including her relationships, how her lover left her, and how deeply it affected her. Anjali's throat choked, she couldn't speak.
***
"It would be her best gift, I am sure!" Anjali's mother said, as she flipped through the pages, as years passed by. The book was already a bestseller, written by Pari Sharma, Published by Anjali Mitra.
"And to her, for free, she would be so amazed that her hardwork finally paid!" Anjali danced in glee, as she rang her number to contact her. Nobody picked up the call.
But she didn't stop there. She was determined to make that poor soul happy at last; she reached her destination, only to see a crowd of people dressed in white; her heart beat fast, as she hurried to the small house, to see a dead body, with a man, yes Aryan, now all grown over the years, holding the hand of the deceased, crying.
"I did it just to make you strong, only I never understood what you were going through!"
Extreme depression over the years, without anyone's support, her family members secluding her, made her mentally unstable, unstable enough to express her emotions, though she had plenty of it.
Anjali didn't say a word, she was too guilty not to have told her earlier or contacting her, being by her side, when she must have needed her the most.
She strolled around the house, finding another series of pages, "I could do something, If someone was by my side".
"Must be by her! She IS a masterpiece!" She smiled and said to herself, not accepting the fact she was gone.
She returned to the body, as she kissed her icy head, and whispered,
"You proved yourself. You aren't a loser. You did do something, even if no one was by your side, inspiring me for my work now." She didn't want to wake up the soul who slept at last, peacefully.
The manuscript and the book in her hand, she walked away from the scene, content, to go to her office, to publish the books from the budding writers.
