The Invisible Student

I can't open my eyes. My friend rolls his scooter on a downward slope and the high wind is hitting my face. It is a battle between me and the wind where I struggle to keep my head up, straight, pretending that there is nothing around me. "What are you saying?", is the common sentence occurring out of my mouth as I can't hear my friend. I don't even remember what story or what opinion of his is he telling me. Sometimes I say "Yes" just for the sake of it but sometimes I can't take the risk of a cross-question from him. It is nice of him to be talking with his head turned towards me. But sadly, that is not enough.

With the slope still continuing on in a lush green area with tall trees on both ends, a motorcycle comes right beside us. The shiny afternoon is making this red bike glow making it impossible to ignore. The head turns towards us and the guy on the bike raises his visor and shouts, "Oye!". My friend stops the scooty and so does the bike guy. He removes his helmet and shows his smiling face giving evidence that he was already smiling while wearing the helmet. He is my schoolmate, my classmate, and someone I never met after I passed from my school. His half-broken front tooth reminds me of his smile during his school days and how it had been a topic of a few jokes sometimes. He has gained some weight and has lost a few hairs. But he is not unrecognizable. He is Alok Kumar. A shy guy with whom I often interacted during games class or when our paths would collide. It is true that this did not happen every day and since he used to sit on the opposite side of where me and my friends sat, sometimes a week or two would pass without us talking.

"How are you? You have grown your hair?", he asks reminding me of how I had to keep short hair to avoid scolding in school.

"I am fine, you tell."

Surprisingly, we met after 10 years but he did not refer to me with my name nor did I. We did not ask formally, "Recognized me?" and mutually understood that we have not forgotten each other yet.

"Where are you these days?" he asked me, his smile and teeth continuing to be in the limelight.

"Ah! Just working. You?"

"I was in Ambuja Cement as an engineer. But I left my job a few days back."

"Oh, Why? New job?"

"No, wanted a break. Was tired and burnt out. Although I have a lead in Dehradun, I will wait a few days still. Just want to be relaxed for a while."

"Yeah? So, in Haridwar now?"

"Yes, I worked in Roorkee so commuted from here."

"Where do you live now? Still, sector 3?"

I asked this question and my mind goes back sixteen years when I used to live in the same area but on a different lane. A couple of times I went around his home to play with him. But that was just in compulsion when everybody in my lane was busy. In a world without phones, I would just take a chance and go to his lane and check if somebody is playing and get involved with them. I often saw him with his sisters playing together. He has got six or seven sisters and I remember just two of them.

"No, I moved to that area."

"That's so close to my house!"

"Really?", He asks surprisingly.

"Yeah. And your sisters? All married?"

"No, the youngest one doesn't want to so she is working. She is in Roorkee and stays there."

"Oh! So it is just you and your parents."

"Me and my father. My mother....2017."

He did not make eye contact while saying this and turned his eyes down. 

"It's okay. Time passes by so quickly. It has been ten years since we met and feel like time has passed very quickly. But if we observe each year individually, I feel ten years was a long time. It is just that it feels short when seen collectively.", he said in a low but stable voice.

"Yeah, maybe you are right." I wonder in what state would he have thought about this and remembered it on the top of his tongue. At this time, my friend with whom I was wandering around picked up his ringing phone and found out that his mother had some urgent work.

"Okay, we will catch up!", he told me and sat on his bike and put down his helmet.

"Would you like to meet in the evening at that place?" I asked him and really meant to catch up from my end. 

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, meet me there at 5."

"Give me your number", he said instantly not believing whether I would come or not.

We exchanged numbers and went on our own way.

"What time will you come?" I got his message at around 4. I confirmed I would come at 5 and reached there at around the same time. He came half an hour later.

It is interesting to observe how two people meet after ten years. They have spent ten years of their lives without any clue to another. Ten years is a long time and so much would have happened in his life. So much has happened in my life too. But when two people meet after ten years, they do not talk about what happened in those years but what used to happen when we used to meet. The time that we both lived together in the same place with the same experience.

Alok was a boy in my class who was known for his singing. Whenever there was some spare time with the teacher, he would often ask if anyone had any talent in the class and Alok's name would pop up. But besides that, he would often participate in nuances of the class when it happened around him. If they were happening on the other side, he would not take the effort to even stand up from his seat. The first thing he reminded me of here was how one day we both were standing in the back of the class because we had not completed the homework. The teacher started his slapping spree from one side of the queue and continued towards us. He was not slapping too hard though but enough to give an impression on the cheek. When Alok's turn came, he got the one that echoed to each corner of the class with an intensity I also did not imagine. The chit-chat stopped and the class went in complete silence with all eyes on us. He was surprised and I saw his face. I wanted to laugh but I knew mine was the next turn. I wished at that time I had done the homework that I deliberately stalled with an overly optimistic view that nothing would happen. Fortunately, I got a slap with the least intensity and the cherry on top was that I got it at the back of my head and not even on my cheek! Everyone after me was spared with a slight touch that in those days, nobody would consider a punishment. I figured out the reason behind it. I knew Mr. Bakshi had felt guilty after slapping Alok. Today, I would feel for Mr. Bakshi but that day, I looked at Alok and thanked him. Later after the class, Mr. Bakshi talked to Alok and asked whether he got hurt and hence verified my assumptions.

Strangely, Alok remembered this incident so clearly that he started the conversation with this. Maybe he was thinking about it while coming here as it was an experience we both shared together. For me, it was just another normal day or just another normal period. Maybe I had not noticed during those times, it could be that Alok did not get scolded enough that this became a highlight of his life. 

"You know how every teacher used to remember me in school?"

"How?", I asked promptly while processing those days in my head and filtering out the part where I could remember teachers calling Alok and their sentences beyond that. I got none.

"I would never complete my homework. Whenever there was a class and it was my turn, every teacher just assumed that I might not have done anything.", he told me but I can't remember any instance about it. 

"Teachers have died that taught us. You remember Archana Mam?"

"Yes, I heard about her. Bakshi Sir too."

"Yes"

We both looked at the setting sun behind long eucalyptus trees. Red and clear bidding final goodbye for the day reminding us that one more day has passed by.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?", Alok said suddenly but still looking at the sun.

"Yeah, sure!"

"Was I invisible in class or in school?"

I looked at him. He had a weird smile on his face just like you would do when you don't know what expression to bring. It hurt me to be on the receiving end of this question. We were all young when we went to the school. Nobody cared much about other people except for their own groups. We wouldn't even notice that some person is absent from class unless we are reminded of it or they exist in our group. There is nothing one can respond to when the answers to such questions are asked of them for which the speaker already has finalized an answer in their mind.

"What? No. Why would you say that?"

"I always felt that I was one invisible child in the school. Remember when one student committed suicide in the ninth standard from another section and when we all came to know about it in the morning, more than half of us didn't even know who he was. We all stood for two minutes of silence out of respect but all I could think then was that maybe I am the same guy in my class. Nobody cared if I came to class or was absent. Nobody called me after the school got over and nobody met me after we passed out. I would sometimes be insulted by someone and told my parents but all they said was to not cry like a girl and it would be all my mistake. Invisible at my home. Invisible in my class. I am a part of a society that nobody cares about. I remember whenever you would see me in class you would always shake my hand and ask me how am I. But nobody else would talk to me. Nobody ignored me intentionally though. If I was sitting with three guys, they would rope me in the conversation. But nobody called me to sit with them in the first place. It's hard to explain but I don't think anybody remembers me now."

First time in my life somebody told me that they felt invisible in the class. He never talked about this when we were in school but now all I can imagine is how profound the impact of those days is on this guy. Ten years later, he still remembers that feeling. If that was today, somebody would have slapped a fancy mental issue term and burdened the kid even more. But no one talked about these issues back then. 

Later, Alok told me that since he and his father live alone in the house and he has to do all the household chores, he thought of getting married. "I am tired of cooking three meals and doing a job while all my peers go to see snowfall in Mussoorie," he said. But he can't stand the courage to get ready and sit in front of those girls that his father arranged. He went to see three of them but none of the arrangement could proceed further.  "Am I still invisible?", he pondered as the night took over and the moonlight was shining through the grass in front of us. I, for most of this conversation, was out of words.

"You will find someone. These things take time. Don't worry."

"Yeah. Maybe.", he pulled out a cigarette and pointed the packet towards me.

"I don't smoke", I smiled and told him.

"Really?", he lighted his cigarette, "Even in this stressful world? I would have died without it" he took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke in the air.

"Let's go". He said as our bikes were parked a few meters ahead of us. He would finish his cigarette on the way. "What now?"

"Maybe we can eat something?"

"Yeah Sure let's go."

We went to a shop and ate some street food. His father kept calling him but he did not pick up. It was 7 PM and I figured out he had to make dinner but on the priority scale with one side being his hungry father and one side his classmate whom he met ten years later, I was placed on a winning pedestal. He never picked up his father's phone and told me that his father doesn't do anything. He is retired and just goes to a place 3 km away to play cards with random guys. "Isn't it better to just cook some food? But no. every day. Even if it is raining, he will take the umbrella and go there. Sit beneath a peepal tree and just play cards. He has been doing this for seven years!".

I am not amazed. I have heard such stories from many guys about them and their retired father. Thirty minutes later, I said, "Okay, I will go. Let's meet soon". There was nothing I had to do at home and I could have stood there for much longer but I figured out that the more time passed, there are high chances he could strain his relationship with his father even if it was just for one night.

He sat on his bike, pushed the side stand up, pulled the helmet visor down, pushed the start button, and smiled towards me. He waved his hand and I waved back. He pushed the accelerator on the bike while I stood there. Stood there in silence with no street lights, no one passing by just me and the shopkeeper. Stood there with the sounds of his thoughts that he just told me. Stood there while he went home, into the darkness, slowly and slowly, becoming invisible.....once again.