BOOK1: Page 11, Para 1

I won’t waste time in writing pages about those beautiful girls, their fancy dresses and gaudy make up. Instead I will treat the reader to my brain and what I felt in my heart at that very moment. One of those girls had to be my future date for the annual ball in senior year. I made a conscious effort to know each one of them on a personal level. So that when the fateful night would arrive my decision would be based more appropriately on a lot more than just corporeal lure. All that would require a considerable amount of time in their company and hence the first thing on my list was getting selected by hook or by crook. The following lunch hour was spent on me. All those divine, affable, benign girls assisted me, advised me, encouraged me, and of course checked me out. So here I was ready to take on the role of the male lead (there was only one male character).

BOOK1: Page 10

And she asked me to excuse her. I was taken aback. It appears this Lady Penguin actually believes that there are boys who want to do this ballet. I would have definitely given her a piece of my mind, if it had not been for all those beautiful eyes staring at the only boy in the hall. Now that felt indeed special. Running from between the crowds came Aakrisht’s little sister. Along with her was the lead ballerina. It was evident from her gait, it brushed off from the curls in her hair and it was voiced in her lips. She was the thorn pricking the prying eyes of all the girls staring at the three of us. My first tour of the best girls’ school in Doon had officially begun.


I moved up to her with a cheerful smile.

I: Good afternoon madam. I am Kalsh Abhilash (I handed over to her the reference letter that Robot had given me).

Lady Penguin Patch-up: (she took out her reading glasses) so you’re the boy chosen by Mr. Prajapati (he was our principle)

I: Well, I got this letter yesterday and decided to show up at your service. Hope this strengthens the bond between our two schools (I still don’t understand why was I trying to impress her that day?)

Lady Penguin Patch-up: Well one thing is for sure. I am not disappointed. If my old eyes aren’t mistaken then you are the same boy who scored the winning goal the other day.

I: Yes madam. You are so very right. So what’s next?

Lady Penguin Patch-up: (After a minute’s silence) don’t be restless. This is no football. Ballet is graceful and organized. First of all you must give an audition.

I: Madam, it appears you don’t get it. I have come to participate in this annual day of yours. I am not a struggling ballet dancer. And it is my obligation to be here and not my interest. So would you kindly give me my lines and dance steps?

Lady Penguin Patch-up: Seems you are hard of hearing or (removing her spectacles delicately) plainly haughty.
(She looked at her wrist watch and then straight into my eyes) Listen up close, its lunchtime. Meet me after an hour. We will start off the post lunch session with you.

BOOK1: Page 7

Now it is time for a very important character in our story to be introduced. She played a very small role in our journey, but nevertheless it was indeed a character building role. Upon entering the auditorium I found myself at the back of a very long queue, the likes of which were only found outside the local mosque on Friday afternoons. But this queue was not barbaric or starving but feminine and sweet smelling. All these girls were eager to give their audition for various parts in the ballet. So one by one in a very urbane manner each girl walked up to the stage. Every presentation consisted of a dance performance and a recital, followed by some comments from an elderly woman sitting in the front row. She had two tall slender girls sitting with her, one on either side. One of them was reading names from what appeared to be a bottomless pile of application forms while the other was playing music from her laptop. Every act was followed by a minute of consultation. Whenever the trio would huddle to discuss the fate of an artist there would be absolute pin drop silence. Even the nervous breaths of the girl who occupied the centrestage were audible. No cheering; No clapping until the trio announced their opinion.

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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