Twin Troubles

You had it figured out since you were in school, everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool - Lucky One.

Pratap didn’t know how his sibling managed to get on his nerves every time. He had steered clear of his younger brother’s antiques and spent all his childhood not getting into trouble for a fair part of his seventeen-year-old life. He was the “good boy” of the family. The apple of his grandparents' eyes, the son his parents flaunted with pride for his grades and habits. What pissed him off more was the fact that Shakti never learned from his mistakes. How could he? Every time he got himself into a mess, his best friend managed to get him out of it before his parents even found out. Something in their bond annoyed him to the core. Weren’t friends supposed to point out each other’s mistakes rather than be supportive of them? He didn’t understand the kind of bond his brother shared with that girl. That girl. Who would say she was only fourteen? Which fourteen-year-old protested against the school fest being held on the premises because it would disturb the elderly neighbours? He was the president of the school drama club, but witnessing this girl being reduced to tears, forcing the principal to change the venue of the fest with her undefeated debate skills, and witnessing their budget go for a toss made him doubt his acting skills. The very moment the Principal agreed, she wiped away her tears and smiled, thanking her. The audacity! Now they had to redo the budgets for the venue, and it meant cost-cutting. She had always been the pain in his life every time he had a smooth run. Could Pratap forget the day she took it as a competition with him to make a bigger Rangoli, and it impressed his grandmother so much that she got all her attention and even a Shagun? It wasn’t a competition, Ajabdeh, it was just a Rangoli! Or the times he had to wait patiently for Ranima to finish whatever Ajabdeh occupied her with before he could get his own mother’s attention. Pratap inhaled as he saw the figures of his brother and her standing head bowed in front of the principal, who seemed to be disappointed as he walked across the silent corridor of Meera Bai International School and reached the Principal’s open door and knocked slightly at it. What had they done this time?

The principal’s gaze on the corridor made Ajabdeh glance over her shoulder at his grim face. His eyes met hers briefly as she looked away, and he could sense her exchanging glances with Shakti. 

“Come in, Pratap. I was insisting on calling your parents.” The principal spoke, removing her reading glasses and keeping them on the table as she sat down on her chair upright with a sigh. “When he insisted you be brought in and asked for your version.”

“My… version?” Pratap frowned a little, confused at the words. He had no idea what they were talking about.

“Is it true that Varun destroyed Ajabdeh’s books, and that is why Shakti beat him up?” Pratap’s eyebrows shot up as he eyed his sibling, looking at him like a scared fawn, nodding slightly at his glance. He could now see that the hair was dishevelled and one of the buttons of his wrinkled shirt was missing. Pratap inhaled. What were his options here? His brother beat someone up, and if the parents were called in, they would surely send Shakti away to a boarding school. As much as he detested his ways, Pratap wouldn’t let that happen to Shakti. But why would Shakti pick a fight unnecessarily? He was aware of how some of the senior boys were mean to girls like Ajabdeh. He eyed her again. Her geeky, opinionated and controversial ways had made her quite many enemies in school, especially after the fest debacle. He nodded his head silently. The principal seemed convinced.

“Very well, I am letting him go with a warning. Varun would be suspended for a week…”

“No, Ma’am.” Ajabdeh’s voice was almost like a whisper. The principal frowned at her “Don’t suspend him. He was just angry because I beat him in the debate competition.”

“Are you defending him now?” The principal’s voice was surprised. Pratap was surprised too, but with a hint of annoyance. She was defending the boy whose harmful intent towards her landed Shakti in trouble. Ajabdeh’s satchel was on the table. Pratap noticed now that her school books had been torn to bits by what can be safely called an act of violence. 

“No, Ma’am, I understand why he acted the way he did.” Ajabdeh protested softly as Shakti frowned.

“Justified reasons can’t make authorities ignore his misconduct.” The Principal shook her head, “You may leave now.”

The three pairs of shoes walked down the silent corridor for some time before Pratap stopped to ask, “Did I just lie to the Principal for you?” He raised his eyebrows as the pair stopped and frowned at him.

“No, you didn’t.” Shakti protested, “You saw what he did to the…”

“It is not the entire truth.” Ajabdeh cut his words short as Pratap’s face looked displeased. He knew they were up to something. “He was also verbally abusive, but saying that would lead to his expulsion, so we decided…” Not an answer Pratap expected. He frowned at her words. “Verbally abusive of whom?” The two were silent. He knew he wouldn’t get any more answers. He shook his head and said in a stern voice, “I don’t understand how every time you two are together, there is trouble. If I have to face the Principal one more time, I am going to tell Maasa, and I don’t care anymore if you two are leaving this school after that or where you would be sent off to.” A gasp escaped Ajabdeh’s lips as she opened her mouth, but no words came out of it as they watched Pratap walk away briskly.

It was at the end of the day that Ajabdeh caught up to Pratap on the way back from school. Although no rules were laid, it was always an unsaid implication that she and Shakti stayed away from Pratap in and around the school premises, especially around his friends. Pratap was the school gem, someone who was loved by all teachers, respected by his peers and inspired the juniors. He was the head boy as well. So, when Ajabdeh or Shakti got onto the same school bus to go home or got down at the same stop, they carefully walked a few feet behind him, sometimes with Heer in tow, and didn’t exchange any words all the way home. It was not like he never talked to them; he did, especially when it came to teaching them things or guiding them in school work and especially when they annoyed him enough by getting into trouble. Out of the three, Heer looked the most sorted out to him. Hence, they were close, and Pratap often treated her the way he would treat a sister if he had one. Shakti did not quite like the pampering she got from him, especially when he was scrutinised. But then, he had his best friend. He wondered if Heer felt the same way with her sibling at home. Being the youngest in the family forged an unsaid bond of sympathy and friendship between them, even when Heer was two years younger than they were. But somehow his three-year age difference with Pratap seemed greater than it actually was, and Heer appeared mature for her age, making it easier to talk to her.

This was one of the rare days Shakti had his tennis lessons, and Heer was supposed to be picked up by Hansa to go shopping with her, which meant Ajabdeh was walking home alone with Pratap.

“I… wanted to apologize…” She cleared her throat, eyeing him from the corner of her eyes, as his eyes were fixed on the pavement, and his face unreadable. “I didn’t mean to put Shakti in trouble.” They were walking down the private road that led to their homes, side by side, maintaining a distance enough for another person to join in between them as she cleared her throat again, unsure of what more to say.

“Your apology is meaningless because he is already in trouble.” Pratap sounded a little cold. “And if either Ranima or Dad come to know of it, he will be sent off to boarding school, is that what you want?”

“No… I…” Ajabdeh shook her head, “Never.”

“Then stay out of trouble; it will be best for both of you.” Pratap stopped as he saw the gates of the mansions in the distance. “Besides, you have a younger sibling. As the older one, I can say, make sure she looks up to you.” He looked up at her face briefly. In the summer sun and sweat, her face was a little red as she frowned.

“I am not a bad person, you know.” She retorted. Pratap inhaled as eyes met; hers seemed rather annoyed. 

“I know. I never said you were. Just make sure others see it too.” She looked up at his words as a faint smile appeared on her lips.

“Why are you so sorted?” She asked, almost amused, “You know what to say and exactly what should be felt and…” She started walking again as Pratap stood there for a brief moment, then followed her quietly.

“No, I don’t. I am not sorted, nobody is. I just keep up a good act to… hide my flaws better.” His words made Ajabdeh frown. “It is called diplomacy, and you should learn it too before you run the company one day. I don’t think I have to remind you how our parents have been reminding us that we are born for that for as long as I can remember, so don’t let them down.” He walked away as Ajabdeh slowed down her pace and watched him disappear behind the gates as she approached her home.

Ajabdeh felt guilty about the trouble Shakti went through for her. Pratap was right about that. She got home from school and decided to bake his favourite carrot cake as a sign of her gratitude and because she knew they needed to talk about the elephant in the room. She put her hair up in a bun and started making the batter for the cake. The house was empty, and that left Ajabdeh to herself. She liked solitude. Her favourite relaxation was her hobby of baking. Asking Siri to play some music and twirling around the kitchen island while making the batter, she put the oven to warm, watching the tray rotate. 

Her thoughts wandered to the morning and its events. Varun had opened her satchel, intending to ruin her books while she was out to enrol on the literary club, and had found her journal. In it was a picture from last Diwali, and the group photo had been folded in a way to show one person on top. When she and Shakti reached him, he started making accusations that he would tell the school that Ajabdeh had a crush on Pratap. Instead of being shocked at his evidence, Shakti defended Ajabdeh and caught Varun trying to ruin her books, leading to the fight. Ajabdeh was sceptical. Would Shakti tell Pratap about the picture, or could she tell him not to? Ajabdeh never wanted Shakti to know in the first place. Intelligent as she was, she knew it was just an infatuation she had ever since she hit puberty and reasoned herself to believe that it was because he was the only “crushable” person around her, to whom perhaps she wasn’t invisible in some odd way, like she was to the majority of boys in school. She had grown up looking up to Pratap the way Shakti did, and perhaps that was why… the crush would go in some time. But her worst fear came true; it didn’t. Instead, she started noticing the weirdest details about Pratap and even found herself daydreaming. She found herself snooping around his room, with Shakti, with some excuse or other when he wasn’t around, and even keeping his picture in her journal. Sometimes she would cringe at her behaviour, and other times, when she heard Taylor Swift sing a heartbreak song, she would often imagine it was so perfect for her. He didn’t know she felt the way she did, and it was for the best. She wanted to save herself from the embarrassment of having a crush on him, but she couldn’t help it. Worse, if Pratap heard it from Varun, what would his reaction be? And Shakti? Is he disappointed with her after her long speeches about the right time for such things, every time he crushed on someone? Ajabdeh sighed melancholically. She knew one thing for sure. Something she knew in her heart, and she had no idea how. Pratap would never choose her.