Katherine:the hajera within ~by mariam

chapter 1

I had no idea who she was until I started thinking about where we first met. It was in 6th grade when I assisted her with a Telugu oral test. She replied with a formal 'hello', and everything about our interaction was formal. It was a short break on either the first or second day of school, but it was my first day in that particular section. I had randomly joined the class, and our teacher was new. What's interesting is that I had met her before at an annual program in 5th grade. Her daughter was friends with one of my cousins, so we all met together at that event. Among all the students, I was the only one who had met her before she became our teacher. The person I helped in 6th grade, whom I thought was just a friend at the time, was actually her daughter. It was our first meeting, and we didn't speak to each other again after that. I never imagined that she would become such an important part of my life.

As I look back, I realize that our first meeting was just a brief encounter. But it laid the foundation for a connection that would blossom later. I'm grateful for that chance meeting in 6th grade and the unexpected way our lives became intertwined.
Kat has become an important part of my life. My mom gave me birth, but Kat gave me my world. She's my world, and she is the reason to live in this difficult generation. Life without her is incomplete.

As the break time bell rang, the corridors burst into a flurry of activity, with students pouring out of their classrooms to reunite with their friends after the long summer vacation. I eagerly joined my close-knit group of friends - Sara, Tom, Rizzi, Georgia, Allie, Nora, Faha- whom I had befriended in the 7th standard. Tom, in particular, held a special place in our circle, being the common thread that bound us all together, courtesy of our five-year-long friendship.

We had a blast catching up on each other's summer adventures and sharing funny stories. Before I knew it, the morning had flown by, and I had spent a lot of time chatting with Kat! When the lunch bell rang, I quickly grabbed my lunch box and headed to meet my friends Sara, Tom, and Rizzi. I didn't want to eat with people I didn't know, not because I was shy, but because I liked eating with friends. We always sat together in either B or C division, and it was always a happy time.

Kat told me she was jealous of me going to lunch with my friends. I was surprised and laughed because I couldn't believe it! Believe that Kat was jealous of me I really laughed hard that day I used to be a happy-go-lucky person, but something had changed, and I didn't laugh as much anymore. I didn't care, though - I just liked finding the fun in everything, even when people were sad. I never went through tough times, so I didn't understand why people cried. I wouldn't cry in front of everyone, though.

Kat was still a mystery to me, and I wondered why I hadn't asked her about it before. Maybe it was because I thought she was like a poem that says, "Don't ask a glass why it broke... it probably thought a stone was its friend."

Mat pooch kisi shishe se uske tootne ka raaz, nadan, kisi pathar ko apna samjha tha hoga.

I didn't like eating with strangers, so I would quickly gather my things and leave when the lunch bell rang. I didn't think about how Kat might feel, left out and alone, while I went to eat by myself. Looking back, I was thoughtless and didn't consider how my actions might affect someone else. Kat deserved better than to be left behind while I ate alone. My actions showed I valued my comfort more than her feelings, which was hard to accept.

It was time went when we got comfortable with eachother. Then the other day I decided to have lunch with her.

As we lingered over our meal, Katherine and I engaged in a tantalizing exchange, sharing our secret crushes with each other. She initiated the conversation, recounting the origins of her fascination with a certain someone. I knew I'd be hesitant to reveal my own infatuation, so I relented first, confessing my supposed indifference. Then, she divulged his name, accompanied by a nonchalant admission that she didn't reciprocate his ardent feelings. I couldn't help but agree that she was, indeed, captivating - a beauty who had unwittingly ensnared his heart. As I gazed up at her, I was struck by her insouciance; she seemed utterly impervious to the fact that he had already been smitten with her. Katherine, oh Katherine!

When I shared my own supposed crush, I downplayed it, insisting that he wasn't my boyfriend or even a genuine interest. Her response was a piercing glance, which I'd come to recognize as 'Kat's way' - an unnerving yet mesmerizing ability to dissect someone's character with a single, searching look. Her eyes, those windows to her soul, sparkled with a knowing glint, as if she could effortlessly discern the intricacies of a person's nature simply by their demeanor and expressions. It was both captivating and unnerving, leaving me wondering how she'd developed such an uncanny insight into human behavior.

That morning, Katherine had been relocated to the front benches, while I sauntered in five minutes late, feeling like a solitary figure relegated to the last row. The weight of curious gazes upon me was suffocating, like a dense cloud threatening to unleash a torrent of rain. But then, a epiphany struck - I wasn't an introvert! Why was I experiencing this unfamiliar sense of awkwardness? It was a feeling I'd never encountered before, and it compelled me to break free from my shell. I initiated a conversation with the girls seated in front of me, effortlessly gliding into a casual repartee that felt like a decades-long friendship. Our discussion meandered to old melodies, not ancient, but timeless classics like 'Lag Ja Gale', 'Likhe Jo Khat Tujhe', 'Ye Raatien Ye Mausam', and 'Mere Mehboob'. I knew exactly why these songs resonated with me, and still do - they echoed the deepest recesses of my heart.

Kat's absence from school for two weeks had me worried sick. She hadn't confided in me about her struggles with PCOS, and I was left wondering if everything was okay. When our first semester commenced, she was still nowhere to be found. It wasn't until after the exam, during recess, that I spotted her standing near the lift in the corridor. My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met, but I hesitated to approach her, my mind racing with anxious thoughts. What would I say to her? Would she even want to talk to me? I assumed she had only come to school for the exam and was now leaving early, hence her presence near the lift.

When Kat finally returned to school, our seating arrangements had changed once again. I found myself sitting beside Lizz, the only familiar face in the division. Kat was instructed by the class teacher to take a seat on the first bench. During the break, I mustered up the courage to ask her about her absence. However, the opportunity had eluded me in the second period, courtesy of our Urdu teacher, Omera Mam, who was notorious for her monotonous and predictable lectures. Her penchant for addressing us by our fathers' names was particularly grating. I was relieved to finally have a chance to talk to Kat and clear the air.

Kat confided in me about her struggles with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS), a debilitating condition that subjected her to a relentless cycle of repetitive periods, leaving her feeling vulnerable and insecure. As a result, she became increasingly cautious and withdrawn, often opting for the comfort and security of home study to avoid any discomfort or embarrassment in public. Despite her natural extroversion, Kat became selectively introverted during this challenging time, shielding herself from the world to cope with her emotional turmoil. Yet, amidst her struggles, her remarkable British English accent remained a constant source of fascination for me - a true gem in the crown of India's linguistic diversity. Her fluency and precision in speaking with a great British accent were a rare gift, one that suited her exceptionally well and set her apart from her peers. However, as she forewarned me about her likely absenteeism from school due to her health issues, I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. And indeed, as time passed, our connection began to fray, ultimately leaving us lost and disconnected, like two souls drifting apart in the vast expanse of life.

WORD COUNT: 1488 WORDS