Nami and I turned towards the classroom. We were dragging our feet as if we had to pay off a debt. The corridor was filled with the sa stale chirping—laughter that was so empty that it didn't echo even after bouncing off the walls.
I was silent. No, let's say I was buried sowhere within myself. Arin's quiet words and his indifferent back were following .
Nami's face also had the sa staleness, but expecting sothing from her was like throwing a bucket into a dry well.
There was a commotion inside the classroom—like worms boiling in a basket. Books were in hand, but the mind was sowhere else.
Then my eyes fell on Suhina. She was talking more than necessary, laughing more than necessary. When a person is hiding sothing, he laughs in the sa way as a clown laughs in a show.
Nami nudged lightly. "Sothing is cooking," she said. As if I had heard the sound of a pot breaking in an old neighbourhood.
Suhina looked at with a smile—a smile that had less sweetness and more poison. Still I remained silent.
But silences don't last long.
"Aira!"
The na was called as if a butcher called a cow while taking out the knife.
The fists were clenched. But the face wore the sa lifeless calm that is on the cheap toys sold in the market.
Suhina had a note in her hand. The show was staged in such a way as if an order was being read in God's court.
"Next ti pay attention. You are revealing too much."
The room burst into laughter. The sa laughter that hangs sowhere between enmity and friendship. So laughed openly, so with their mouths shut. Everyone was watching the spectacle, like hungry children staring at the pan of halwa.
I raised my voice. "What's wrong with you, Suhina?"
She shrugged her shoulders. As if she was saying—'What do I care? The world is like this.'
"I an, it's just a note, isn't it?" she laughed, as if showing off sothing cheap.
Waving the piece of paper in her hand, she attacked with her eyes.
"What do you want?" I asked, full of anger, but there was a sense of weariness in my voice.
"Nothing," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "Arin has a habit of troubling people for no reason. You are no stranger to him. Don't take it to heart."
She laughed again—an awkward laugh, with more tension than sweetness.
I looked at her for a mont. The rot behind her smile could be felt by anyone from a distance.
"Right,Arin?"
Then Arin got up. Without saying anything, without looking at anyone. Like a labourer leaves after throwing away his tools as soon as the evening siren sounds.
There was a commotion in the room. Suhina's smile faltered, as if a mouse had fallen into ghee.
Nami whispered, "Wow, Suhina tried a lot... but she got trapped herself."
Now the laughter changed. Now Suhina had beco a spectacle. The color had gone from her face, but she kept sitting with a forced smile on her lips—like a losing gambler throws away his last coin.
I looked outside. The dry tree was the sa—as if it was teasing ti. Not laughing, but firmly.
The story was not over. Many wounds were yet to be opened."
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