Weird and Wonderful

Chapter 7

Year - 2011

Swasti didn’t know how she would have the courage to go back to school after the incident at Physics class. For the first time, she was feeling ashamed of herself. But it was not her fault. She had only spoken the truth. She knew that her concept was correct. But why was sir so angry with her for speaking the truth? She should perhaps divert her mind from the incident. The poem Lost was really good. It was so real. That guy- Rachit had written another poem. What he would have written in it? Swasti rushed towards the classroom when the van reached the coaching class. She wanted to read the other poem which Rachit had written. She was wondering what that poem would be about. She was thinking about it all the time in school. She wanted to talk about the poem Lost with her friends but they would make fun of her.
Swasti got that seat. The other poem was God-given dare.

Decaying body
Rotten mind
Peace of soul-
Is so hard to find

Each rising sun has become a nightmare
My life is a terrible god-given dare
I think I am one of god's experiment gone wrong
The whole world around me sings a raucous song

But I won't end all of this
I can't give this dare a miss
Give me all the pain, O fate, you can give
But in front of your ruthless eyes, I will continue to live

The poem gave Swasti courage. Just when she was starting to doubt her principles and values, the poem taught her to stand up for herself.  She touched the words etched on the desk with her fingers as if the words were magical.

“What is this?” Kritika asked, looking at the desk. Swasti was irritated at this interruption. She wanted to experience the magic of the written words for some more time.

“Who is this Rachit Chauhan?” Kritika said to Ami.

“The writer of this poem,” Swasti said.

“I can see that. But who is he?” Kritika said.

Swasti reflected on it. Who was Rachit Chauhan? He studied in the coaching class in the year 2008 but who was he?

A boy was sitting at the back of the class. He was tall, and his lean frame made him appear even taller. His hair was messy and came over his deep eyes partially. He was not paying attention to what the teacher was writing on the blackboard; instead he was looking outside the window. Swasti was just about to see the face when someone called her name. She tried to ignore the voice.

“Wait, please wait. I just want to see his face,” Swasti whispered.

“Swasti! Swasti! What are you talking about?” The voice said again.

Swasti looked all around. Kritika said to her, “Again lost in the world of Painful Strings. Sir has come! Look at the blackboard!”

It was not the first time that Swasti was daydreaming. But this time, she was not dreaming about Akihito or ghost hunting. It was the first time she had dreamed about a real boy; it was the first time she had dreamed about Rachit.

Swasti did not know how she would have faced her classmates at school the next day after the incident at Physics if she was not thinking about Rachit’s poem. His poem gave her courage when she was feeling utterly helpless. She need not hide in the back-benches in the Physics class because she had done nothing wrong. She had only spoken the truth and speaking truth is not a sin. She was not embarrassed of the Physics class incident; instead she was having fun with Kritika and Ami.

“Hey! Do you know the latest gossip? Smita is going out with Deepak,” Ami whispered.

“What? But you said that she was Hrishant’s girlfriend,” Kritika said.

“You know, like functions, love can also be classified in four types,” Swasti said.

“Please enlighten us,” Ami said.

“Inferring from the dating patterns in our school, the four types of love are:
1. One to One- This is the ideal form of love when a boy and a girl love each other. This type of love was prevalent in old times and can be found in books like Romeo and Juliet.
2. Many to One- This type of love is common amongst fans of a celebrity when many persons love a single person.
3. One to many- When desperate, characterless persons like Deepak leer at many girls , it is one to many.
4. 4...”

“And 4th is many to many when people like Smita and Deepak fall for each other,” Kritika said.

And then the three friends started giggling inviting the glare of Deepak who was sitting at the seat next to them. Swasti wished that Deepak had not heard what Kritika said. Although Swasti hated Deepak, still she did not like commenting on anyone’s personal life.

“You know, my mother says that Abhishek’s facial features resemble those of Ranbir.” Kritika had started with her Abhishek’s talks again. But Swasti was not irritated by that. She felt like talking about Rachit herself. She was imagining what that person was doing now whose three-years ago written poem reignited courage in a girl’s heart. Perhaps this was the magic of poetry. Swasti was never into poetry. She had always loved stories from the beginning, whether they were written in the form of books or were shown as movies. All the fictional characters appeared more friendly and real to her. As a child, Swasti had always thought that all the actors and actresses were people trapped inside the television and she fantasized rescuing them to bring them back into her world. But with time, her mind had become trapped in the fictional world and she didn’t even want to be rescued. She was fine being captive in the world where her genuineness was not seen as weirdness. For the first time, through Rachit’s poems, she was finding joy in the real world. For the first time, she was curious about a real person. But the question remained the same- Who was Rachit?