BOOK 1: Page 22, Para 2

Painting by Jen Eclipse
Painting by Jen Eclipse

Members of the alumni body, the teaching staff, the non teaching staff and even the principals of both the schools were waiting for the show to begin. I was not interested in delaying my exit. With my decorous school blazer on my shoulders I left the limelight in search of some peace, but the chilly air and the lonely road wasn’t comforting either. The hostel doors opened as I showed the gate keeper my special permission letter. I ignored the “Awe’s” and “oh’s” as I passed by the common room. Who would have imagined my dream year in Doon High would have such a pity Christmas? Climbing the stairs to my room was a herculean task and once atop I collapsed into my bed of sorrows. No dinner, no sweets, and no change of clothes. I was the laughing stock for over a week. Although I was bothered by their jibes but it never interfered with my focus on either studies or sports. The roots of my depression were not as shallow as their opinions. What they thought of me wasn’t important. What I had made out of myself was…

Book1: Page 6

Some background information:
This is Welhams Girls School. I was standing in the auditorium of one of the most prestigious institutions that impart education to our female counterparts. More importantly inside those walls used to dwell our probable better halves. Yes it’s true our seniors in the past dated them, our juniors in the coming years would date them and we the present lot were already dating them. Such had been the tradition. Boys from Doon High School went out with girls from Welhams. Now I wasn’t there looking for a date. My purpose was much more genuine and obligatory. It had been decided that if I miss the penalty then I would have to assist Robot’s sister, who studies in Welhams, for their founder’s day celebrations.

Sister: Hello bhaiya (brother). Thank you for coming here to help us.
I: Oh it’s no big deal. I would like to meet the in-charge here and sort some minor issues.
Sister: Oh bhaiya that’s for later. First come give me the bag I want to see your dress.


All right you read that right. My ‘dress’, it was just not my day. I had to take part as a male character in one of the theater productions that would be presented on the annual founder’s day celebration. But this was no ordinary play, it was a ballet. Yes girls and sissy boys in skin tight stretch suits dancing to weird tunes which have no bass, no metallic instruments, no wacky hairstyles; just asinine story telling. And to top it all the whole school would be seated in the audience. My image that I had cultivated by tactfully manipulating the limelight and sweating it out on the field would be at an all time high risk. This was more daring then bursting crackers in the principal’s office. But there was no going back. I had lost a bet and I had to honor my part of the bargain.

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