Std VIIB was in an unexpectedly peppy mood.

The boiled egg smell had been awful while it lasted. But now, a bit like a pongy Santa Claus, it had vanished into the great and smoggy unknown, leaving behind unexpected gifts.

First, the mystery stink had provided a topic of endless discussion. Some girls floated a theory about demonic experiments in the bio lab. Others preferred the one about alien landings. The most popular idea was that Zubeida Zanwar brewed potions in the chemistry laboratory with scorpions and saliva.

Better still, Miss Jhaveri was so rattled by her close encounter with non-veg that she’d taken to her bed. Which meant no maths for three whole days!

So when the bell rang for the short break at 11am on Thursday, Std VIIB bounced out of the classroom in high spirits. The girls grabbed their snack boxes and headed for the corridor in giggly groups. Sunu and Mallika scuttled to their favourite corner, just next to the forbidden, polished wooden staircase. Lara drifted up a few minutes later.

Sunu opened her Lock ‘n’ Lock box, filled with crumbly cheese biscuits from Paris Bakery. ‘Delish,’ Mallika exclaimed, before peeping into her own steel dabba, groaning theatrically and then striking a tragic pose.

‘Woe is me

Once again idli.

Fie on you Mrs Rao

Such cruelty we cannot allow!’

‘I think your mum makes phenomenal idlis. Anyway, we can share,’ Lara said and she opened her Winnie the Pooh box and found six perfect lemon muffins. Granny Sylvia always baked a little extra for her granddaughter and her gang.

Mallika and Sunu squealed their approval and settled down to eat. When only a few crumbs remained, Sunu suddenly exclaimed, ‘I almost forgot. I have news!’

‘What?’ Mallika asked.

‘I don’t know if it’s true, though,’ Sunu said. ‘In fact, I don’t really believe it.’

‘Just tell us,’ Mallika scolded.

‘Well, according to Suhail ...’ she started, as both her friends looked up with sudden interest. Suhail was Sunu’s older brother and he attended Modern Boys.

Usually, Sunu avoided talking about her brother. Like most sisters she thought her brother was boring. Also, it was never a good idea to talk about the boys in the school — not even if they were your real brothers, brother- ike, cousin brothers or rakhi-brothers.

But the real reason why she avoided talking about Suhail was because her friends found him so fascinating.

Most Modern boys were pimply, mumbly youngsters who would hop barefoot on the Bandra-Worli Sealink to avoid dealing with Madam Principal’s wards. But Suhail was neither pimply nor mumbly nor shy. He had smiling brown eyes, floppy hair that kept falling into his eyes and manners that could charm a lamppost. Also, he was a swimming and tennis champion and the sports captain of Modern Boys (which, as far as his schoolmates were concerned, made him almost as divine as the captain of the Indian Cricket Team).

Even muffins faded into insignificance before this paragon. Lara looked up with a sudden un-Lara-like sparkle. Mallika clutched her bosom and yelped. ‘Hold still my beating heart. What did Suhail say? Whether you like it or not, Sunu, I’m crushing on him.’

‘Shut up, Mallika,’ Sunu snipped. ‘I’m trying to tell you. His principal called all the captains for a meeting. Apparently there’s going to be a joint concert between Model Girls School and Modern Boys School and ...’

‘Maddorwot?’ Mallika squealed, ding-donging between excitement and disbelief. ‘What kind of concert? Singing? Plays? Together? Saath saath? Haathon mein haath ?’

‘Sir Singh will be so happy with your Hindi,’ Sunu chuckled, while Lara gasped, ‘It can never be together. We’d break about 20 rules during every rehearsal.’

Sunu nodded, while Mallika straightened herself and quoted,

‘The Students’ Handbook’, Chapter 9, Interaction with Neighbouring Schools:

1) The pupils of Model Girls will not in any way try to communicate with the pupils of neighbouring boys’ schools.

2) Waving from the verandahs or calling out is strictly forbidden.

3) Throwing down notes to the pupils of neighbouring boys’ schools will be punished by instant expulsion.

4) Throwing down other objects like bobby pins or belts will be similarly punished.

‘Unless it’s an atom bomb, in which case you will be given the Rangachari Prize for Moral Science,’ chimed Lara, and the three friends collapsed in a snorting, crumb-scattered heap.

A few months ago, Mallika had conducted a survey of the entire school, and found that there were only two windows through which you could possibly toss a note or a Kitkat into the Modern Boys’ side of the compound. The first involved climbing onto the pot of the third floor loo and risking yucky infections. The second involved charging into the principal’s office, conking her on the head with her Zonta’s award, tossing a note out of her window and then beating a hasty retreat. Both of which sounded like too much trouble.

‘Simpler just to send a text,’ said Sunu, as the three chortling friends shut their snack boxes and reluctantly headed back to class.

Shabnam Minwallais a journalist and author of 'The Six Spellmakers of Dorabji Street'

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