Moyurakhkhi's Cigarettes

36| Coffee

I rocked back and forth in MS' living room recliner as he read the final chapter of my story on his laptop.

I could see the garden through the glass doors. Two sparrows flitted about in the hibiscus bushes, intently bickering with one another. Their liveliness contrasted with the slow winter afternoon that had the city in a slumber.

Mihran Sir's sigh turned my attention. He shut his laptop with a soft thud.

"Well? What do you think?"

MS took off his glasses, rubbing his forehead in circles.

Oh no. He's going to make me rewrite the climax, isn't he? I am so fucked-

"I was looking forward to a restful evening, but seems like you handed me a bunch of work," he said.

"It's that bad?"

"Why, not at all."

"Then what do you frigging mean, Sir?!"

Finally, he allowed me a wry smile. "Well, we shall have to start contacting publishers, shall we not? This is as promising a manuscript as I have ever seen."

-

January 15th, Day 229 of 365

I had to get the scholarship. There was no other option. I couldn't study aeronautical engineering or whatever the fuck it was Abbu would agree to pay for, and I certainly couldn't give up on writing after coming so far.

I was working on my CV with such intent that I didn't notice it was five minutes past 1 p.m.

I quickly shoved my laptop inside my tote bag and rushed out of the library. I was supposed to meet the Vice Principal by 1 o'clock, and I was running late.

After straining my lazy lungs running up to the VP's office, I realised that I didn't need to hurry so much. Fizz and two others from our grade, Nusaiba and Michael, were standing idly outside the VP's office. There was a small balcony there, overlooking a flower garden the students maintained.

Sahal Azad was staring at that garden.

He looked so familiar. As if I could just walk up to him and strike up a conversation or share a bakorkhani with milk tea. As if he was my friend. But oh, he was a stranger now, someone who did things and never told me. 

I looked away.

-

"All right, settle down," the VP announced as if she were in a classroom.

I shifted queasily in my seat. I was sitting in between Fizz and, well, Sahal. Not like he didn't have a choice, there were three more seats. But no. He chose to sit next to me and pretend like I didn't exist.

I tried not to care either. But if only.

"Mr Sahal Azad, Miss Fauzia Ahmed, Mr Michael D'souza, Miss Moyurakhkhi Ahmed and Miss Nusaiba Rashid. The five of you, our top scorers, are our nominees for the D. E. B. Scholarship. Congratulations," she said, with no hint of a smile on her face. Word around the school said that she was going through a very interesting divorce. "To clarify, only two of you will be chosen, based on your performance in the interviews which will be held in April. One student will get a 50% scholarship while the other will get a full scholarship to study in one of four universities in London under the D.E.B. program. Any questions?"

Over the rim of her glasses, her stern gaze pierced through my very skin, learning every last one of my secrets before moving to the person next to me. She scrutinised each of us thoroughly, before grimly opening her mouth, "I would suggest that you spend the following months focusing on yourself. Develop your skills. Enrich your CV. Only those who will fight tooth and nail will get themselves the golden ticket to the UK. Understood?"