The first hour going on in their new class was Maths. The students, who were scarily quiet for a maths class, all turned their attention to look at the admin staff and the two new students entering their classroom.
"Ah, the new kids," their teacher remarked, welcoming them. "Can you introduce yourselves."
Vishal and Mitra stared at each other, silently bargaining on who should be the first one to talk. Before it became awkwardly long, Mitra broke into a smile, turned to the class and introduced herself brightly, "Hello everyone, I'm Mitra. I am from Dehradun, but my hometown's here. I've been coming to this town almost every year since I was a child, but this is the first time I am attending school here. I hope we can all be good friends."
The class was still. Mitra was unsure if she had said anything wrong or if the students there were normally that quiet and inactive.
Vishal however mouthed a "Nice one," to her. He turned and made his introduction, his tone sufficiently cheerful and much more welcoming than Mitra's. He followed the same pattern of presentation as Mitra and added at the end, "This should be a lot fun. I like making music, so if anyone wants to form a band, let me know."
There was slow rumble of whispers and a couple of laughs heard. Mitra could see some of the students beginning to warm up to them.
Or maybe towards just him.
The girl students were seated in a row at the left side of the class and half of the adjacent row while the boys occupied the rest two and half rows of seats. Mitra and Vishal ended up sitting across the middlemost aisle in the room opposite to each other.
As the class started, they both exchanged a knowing smile wishing each other good luck.
It didn't take them much long to realize that Mitra had been right about her ability to make friends and Vishal had underestimated his own charm. The cultural difference between Mitra and the rest of the class was glaringly evident. The other girls spoke to her casually, but that was it.
Mitra was too urban and distant for them. They weren't becoming good friends with her like Mitra had hoped for.
Mitra wasn't much bothered by the aloofness she was receiving; she had changed schools so often and failed at making strong bonds with her classmates at almost every place, that she had accustomed and relegated herself to being alone for most of the time. She buried herself in books and stayed quiet almost always.
Vishal, on the other hand, had become the new golden boy of the class. He was good at sports, much sought after by cricket teams first in his class and then at the school level, for being an efficient spinner. He was occasionally made to sing in the class to entertain the bored students and teachers, something that appealed to most of the girls. It became evident that he had gained a classic admiration in his class.
"They hate me so much," Mitra pronounced.
She and Vishal were walking to the street food vendor outside the school after the day ended. It had been a month since they met and since they became friends.
"That's not true," Vishal protested. "Why would you think like that?"
"Because they never speak to me more than a sentence of some random observation. They keep chattering about things and incidents that I have no idea about. When I ask them to let me in on their discussions, they give me a cold shoulder saying I wouldn't know even if they tell me. I am always the last one to be picked into teams when we play during the sports hour. And, they don't even involve me in anything." Mitra looked so miserable as she ticked off her list that Vishal felt her pain.
He understood what was happening with Mitra.
"Maybe it is because you keep hiding behind books rather than sticking to their side. They need to see you around more often to get close to you," he suggested.
"It's because they are so unwelcoming and stuffy that I don't feel like making myself too clingy to them," Mitra clarified.
They ordered a couple of plates of snack food and started munching on it.
"I don't know what I did to offend them," Mitra muttered as she ate. "They all seem to adore you," she specified to Vishal.
"Me?" he laughed. "Do you know that two boys in our class actually have a crush on you?"
"Half the girls in our class have a crush on you," Mitra rolled her eyes.
"No way."
"It's true. You haven't seen them going all fangirling mode when you start to sing."
"That's because they like music. Not me," Vishal tried to smooth things over.
"Really?" Mitra was unamused.
"Yeah. If you start singing even I would be fanboying over you."
They both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"You can't change a few things once they are set in a certain pace in the start, Vishal. Befriending a class of students when you are new to the school is one such thing. You are either welcomed and become everyone's friend, or you become an outcast. Congratulations, you are the star here," Mitra explained.
Vishal looked at her hard and commented, "I am your friend."
"Yes, my only best friend ever."
"And you are my best friend too."
"Yeah, along with a dozen other boys in our class."
"No. They are my friends and classmates. You are my best friend. None of them get me like you do," Vishal clarified, setting the boundaries.
Mitra gazed at him in confusion.
Vishal divulged, "Like yesterday, during History lesson, when I remarked that internal decay of principles and selfish goals of those in power are some of the major reasons for any war, no one understood what I was saying, but you did. You supported my answer and cited examples too. The whole class was silent, but you spoke."
"That's because you were right," Mitra said as a matter of fact.
Vishal shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I have heard my father say it, most of the times no one speaks out even when the absolute truth is struggling in front of their eyes, to stand up amidst a bunch of lies which everyone knows. People don't speak out unless they have something to gain from it."
Mitra scoffed. "That's absurd. One should speak out in support of the truth and the right, no matter what. If everyone stays silent, the loudest liar will exert unfair power. Besides, my conscience is too hard on me. It kills me when I don't speak out in support of the correct ones."
Vishal studied Mitra with a slight smile playing on his lips. "See, you get me like no one does." He paused and added, "When I say the same thing to others, they say I am too stuck up and a fool, that the world doesn't work like that."
"Who cares how the world works. As long as I don't work like that and keep my conscience clean, I am good." Mitra smiled at him brightly.
"And this proves that we are meant to be best friends," Vishal swore.
On a summer evening, with the backdrop of a reddened sunset, two fourteen year olds with a just and romantic sense of the righteous world stood eating snacks and discussing the ways of the world and what should be done to make everything right about the way it worked.