To my Best Friend

I met this guy in the cramped space of what our school called a classroom. He was sitting a few seats to the right of me, and was the guy everybody was frustrated by, the guy who kept interrupting our conversations with his own “important” facts. He kept talking about people who we had no idea existed, kept talking about these fascinating medical discoveries and a variety of American Presidential issues. Gosh, he sure talked a lot.

But amidst those conversations I was alien to, those arguments whether to play cricket or football, those current affairs lectures, those historic seminars or those football frenzies he went on about, I discovered a truckload about him. About who he was beyond the medical discoveries. I uncovered an empathetic, though quite dogmatic, sophisticated, hardworking fifth grader.

And I couldn’t have been more pleased. For if it weren’t for him, I would have nobody to rant to, nobody to cry on (though I haven’t done that), nobody to roam the malls and babysit nerds with, nobody to call at the middle of the night when I’d be going through a breakup and no one to crib about Manchester United’s horrendous performance.

Through the talks we had when Rohini’s parents crucified me, to our conversations regarding the 2015 Cricket World Cup, each anecdote, each sentence you uttered, polished your image a bit more and added a piece to the puzzle of getting to know him. I still remember those chor-police games we used to play running around the narrow corridors, absconding from any teachers that would walk out of the staffroom to wash their plates after lunch. Those times we protested when the school glorified Gandhi, those times we played football and I assisted you, those times we showed Ramesh his place. I wouldn’t have anyone to celebrate with when we’d nailed our assembly, with you even reading the news impromptu, but without paper in hand. I am so glad I found him.

Not because fifth grade was challenging. But because it wasn’t. Because fifth grade was one of the most memorable times of my time at Madhava Kripa School. And he was the reason. The reason I kept wanting to come to school. Yes, I was head over heels for Rohini, yes, I was in love with social science class, but no. They weren’t the reasons I’d wait for Sundays to finish. The reason was a guy who would wow me with every word that he uttered. A guy who I’d befriended over the months and I was now super close to. A guy who was by my side in whatever I did. Who was there for me whenever Rohini and I fought, and who was there for me when Ramesh would malign me. That guy was him.

Fifth grade was over, but not our friendship. No, that was meant to continue. And it did. Through the time I changed schools, went to LRIS, got beaten up, bullied and bashed and thrashed, through the time I got blackmailed, through the time I felt alien to my own friends and through the time I had second thoughts about even living. And thanks to you, I was out of that horror phase. And back into Madhava Kripa I went.

Once again, he was there for me. He was there when I had thoughts of asking Swara out. He was that launchpad that got me into public speaking when I feared stage the most. That guy who constantly encouraged me to fight my own demons, best Ramesh in the game of cricket and nail those presentations I was so fond of. He was there when we accomplished one of the best class magazines and you were there when we made fun of those poorly written articles about ‘My School’ and ‘My Father’. The guy I’d spend two hours on phone with, coming up with game plans to best Praveen, coming up with ways to woo Swara, and talking about our hypothetical futures that involved us going to Harvard and me wooing the girls there as well.

With seventh grade ending, came eighth grade. It was a difficult year. One of the most fun, but thoroughly agonizing. Starting with the election campaign, every lunch break, our slogans, presentation and promises, it wouldn’t have been possible without him. The victory wouldn’t have been possible without him. We moved onto then one of the best times in Marena, a wonderful time during our physical education classes, a magnificent picnic and after a few memorable visits to TAPMI, the best class magazine ever! He was instrumental in the success but wasn’t all.

You have been time and time again, one strong pillar of support, kindness and rage. One pillow I could count on to pacify me every time something went wrong, and one guy who would, even in his wildest dreams, never let me down.

COVID, after grade eight had stopped school as we have known it, but this guy wasn’t going to be stopped by a pandemic. We played COD endlessly, set up a bloody successful organization, argued maliciously on politics, shared the most humorous memes and if I were not so emotional right now, I would still be right if id said these were the best times of my life. Better than the times we snuck out of school to Manipal Stores and got the thums up and tasty nuts. Better than those five-hour long conversations about getting back at people, coming up with a way to win the election, and our future.

On the note of the future though Sankar, I know you are shifting next month. Nobody is going to find if more difficult than me though, trust me. And I know you refrain from getting emotional, but I’ve got a thirty-page novel as of now for that very occasion mate, so before you leave, I am going to see you cry for sure. See you sob and sob and sob until you look like me when I first heard about you leaving.

Happy Birthday man! Have a blast and enjoy your day. You rule the world (only for this day) and I concede my noob level gameplay to you. Times will change, locations will, and likes and dislikes too, but I shall tell you one thing my friend. Our friendship will never.

I love you.