The Snitch

You   know what’s hard? It’s hard to do the right thing. To do what you know is best. For your friends, for you. When you’re walking up and down a thin dotted line called The Fence, (alternatively, Moderation). You’re teetering around wondering which side to put your foot down on.

Well. The problem is, your friends have already chosen a side. They know where they stand. They know they’re standing in the cursed space a million and one people will call The Wrong Thing To Do. They don’t see it that way. It’s not such a big deal, dude. Chill. Chill dammit, chill. Just leave them alone. They’ll sort their fucked up selves out. Somebody will make sure of that. Somebody else can rat. Somebody who’s not their friend.  But you can’t bring yourself to believe that. Unfortunately, you kind of know which side of the line you’d pick if your friends weren’t looking, watching to see what you do, if you’d tell. You’d stand safely in The Right Thing To Do, and say Hell, I did what I had to. I did the best thing I could possibly do.

Ah, but you didn’t, did you? You know that. You broke the loyalty code. The goes-without-saying-keep- your-mouth-shut-code. You’ve gone and landed yourself in a royal mess. You’ve spilt the beans on your friends. Let’s try that again. You’ve spilt the beans on your friends. Shit.

See? You know and they know that you did the right thing, but who cares? You gonna get bravery medals? Morals-in-the-right-place medals, perhaps? Yeah, you wish. You sold your friends out, you get nothing for that. You get a whole lot of bitching behind your back. Fake smiles. The cold shoulder. Why would they hang out with you, I mean, you can’t even keep a goddamn secret. They were just having fun and you went all, I can tell right from wrong…gotta stick by my moral principles on them. Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?

Suppose though, that someone else had ratted them out. Then what? Then, they’d somehow trace it back to you and suddenly the whole freakin’ world’s turned on you, pointing fingers and chanting you knew. You knew and you didn’t say anything.

Is it worth it? Really? Any of it? Is it worth losing your friends, worth the reputation of snitch? Is sticking by what you know to be right worth it? Even though it’s best for everybody in the long run? They’re not going to thank you, thirty years down the line. So what are you talking about? When will this shit you’ve put yourself through become worth it? When will it extend beyond the lukewarm fuzzy feeling in your heart that says At least I know; at least I know that I did what was good for everybody?  Considering that morally you did the right thing, shouldn’t there be a nice pedestal that you can mount? On which you can stand tall and confidently yell Hey y’all. I did the right thing.      

  

Bandar Shah’s Other Hideout

From Kavya’s Writing Book

One monkey caught my hands and held them behind my back. He twisted them and brought them up so that my palms touched my ponytail.

“Watch it, you stunted australopithecine! That hurts!” I snapped. The monkey grunted in reply and pulled my hands up higher. I winced but didn’t bother saying anything this time.

On my right, Richa and Aditya were being yanked along by another monkey who had them by their hair. He was slightly taller than the others and wore a huge bead amulet on his left arm. His eyes were smaller and meaner than the others’ and his mouth was contorted in a terrible snarly smile. There was something about him that gave me the idea that he was the leader or whatever of the monkeys. I was right.

We marched on till we came to a door. It was like one of those huge wooden double doors you find in forts.

And now if you don’t mind I will stop writing because this is just some Ramayana meets The Planet of the Apes and crashes into The Jungle Books shit and it’s so not going anywhere.

The Social Whirl

Oh My GOD. Jesus effing Christ.

Some weeks are insane.

There’s tuitions and then music class and then you come home and figure, shucks, the test (!) and then you call Megha Nina Tanya and ask have you studied and they say yes and no and only the part about RNA and then you plunge into your books and don’t sleep till two and nearly miss the bus the next morning and the test goes great but then Nik threatens to dump you and you sort of break down and then Nina and Sonali say let’s go to Com Street and shop and cheer you up and you love them when they ditch you because the basketball coach is being a bitch and wants extra practice and then in the most random fashion possible you decide to organise a surprise birthday bash for Megha (and also for Nik’s ex cos’ they share a birthday) and immerse yourself in a flurry of phone calls for a few days and accidentally call Megha and invite her and then she gets into hysterics and you feel like an idiot and decide to call the whole thing off because who wants a bloody party anyway and why the hell should you organise it and when you tell Elaina it’s off she breaks down because Maneesh had just ditched Rhea and now she’ll never know if he was going to ask her instead and you say whatever and she says god, you’re so pissing off and you say I don’t know why I was setting up a party for Nik’s ex anyway and then she calls you a stupid retarded confused shmuck and you hang up and sulk till at tuition the next day when a new guy joins and he’s unbelievably cute and you and Sonali giggle about him and he throws you a ridiculously gorgeous smile and you half die and then you feel like shit because you have Nik and how can you look at another guy like that and you get on a guilt trip and sob and the cute guy asks what’s up and you coldly ask him to disappear and Nik turns up and gets all possessive and what the hell are you doing arm in arm with him and you say nothing and he says keep it that way and then he takes you out for coffee with a couple of the girls and his ex and you glare at him icily for the rest of the evening and smile at the cute guy the next day and he asks Nina out and you think damn and get to music class and learn a new composition and see ma’am’s cat lolling on the sofa and think jeez I wish my life was like that and then you grin. Because you secretly don’t.   

Are you a young kidult?

Jeez. It’s annoying being in between. Being neither here nor there. You’re not a kid, but you’re not quite an adult either. Where do you slot yourself?

Don’t bother. They do it for you anyway, right? The adults, grownups, whatever. They decide when you’re a kid, when you’re a ‘mature person’. As and when it’s convenient.

If they feel like disallowing something, you’re a child. Too young to be doing this, not old enough to be watching that, not ready to be going there. “I don’t want you kids parading around alone. Without an adult, that is.” “This movie is completely inappropriate. Give it a few years.” So fine. You’re treated like you’re ten. You can make it work. And then you figure you can’t yell, you can’t throw tantrums, you can’t make unfair demands and pull long a long face and hope to get what you want. Nah. Only kids can get away with that.

You’ve gotta be a “responsible young lady/man”, “set a good example for the younger ones”, “be reasonable, act your age. You’re nearly an adult, no?”  That’s what teenagers do.

Um, but you just like, said the other thing, that I’m too young. That I’m a kid.

“Young adult, ma. Now go keep an eye on your brother for me. I’ll see you in the evening. You can watch TV or something, just don’t watch any violent films, HBO’s been playing a string of ridiculously gory ones this week. God, the way they make action films these days…and just walk Ceaser at four, but don’t stop and talk so much to those boys across the street, baby, they’re quite loutish…”

Kinky

There I am, sitting in the balcony and working out my study plan for the day with Paati when we hear a scream from the apartment block next to ours. A sliding door crashes open and Kinkyni and her mom appear on one of their balconies grappling with each other. ‘You stay away from me! I hate you! Who asked you to come here anyway! You have no right to tell me what to do! I’m going to jump right now! Stay away or I’ll jump!’ 

‘There they go again,’ I mutter. 

‘Call the watchman! Call the fire brigade! Suicide helpline!’ Paati gasps. 

‘Oh chill Paati! Nothing’s gonna happen!’ I try to calm her. ‘They really are cool with each other. This show is for our benefit…like reality TV.’ Can’t say I blame poor Paati for giving me a disbelieving look. I remember how scared I was when I first saw this crap. It took me till episode 15 to settle down and just watch.

Kinkyni lives alone—in the sense that the flat is all hers. On most nights she’s got friends going in and out of there like cockroaches. Some look more thuggish, like bandicoots. Some of them stay on for days like they live there, and make a lot of noise and play loud music and scream and shout loud enough to bring a hundred Grand Canyons down.

Once in a while her mom or dad come visiting and the roaches and coots disappear and we’re randomly switched to another entertainment channel. Funny, but things used to be real quiet when they all lived together. Then her dad got transferred to Mumbai and her mom and little sister went off to be with him while she stayed back to finish college. And apparently they all got interested in drama around the same time.

This thing between Kinky and her mom starts with some idiotic quarrel and then the two of them take turns threatening to dive from assorted balconies, hanging over the railings like stick mops. The first few times I freaked and thought someone would really jump. But then a little later you see the two of them going out, hands clasped and  heads close together, smiling away to glory while the rest of us sit around nursing our shattered nerves. Once, when it was all new, a whole horde of aunties went and rang their bell in a big panic after one of these you’ll-kill-me-I’ll-kill-you sessions. Mom-lady opens the door with a big wide smile and says that they were only having a ‘small fight’ and everything is alright. And Kinky flashed them a 100 watt-er for good measure. I think everyone kind of left them alone after that. I’m, like, dude, I’m glad we don’t get to see the ‘big fights’. 

Paati keeps letting out short shrill shrieks every time one of them leans over and I finally ask her to go inside and pray or something and she and looks relieved and starts singing one of her god songs even as she exits to the right. Five minutes later the wrestling match is called off and everything is quiet and in a bit Kinky’s talking to her dad on the phone in pouty tones asking him to send her money and double her allowance.

Then Mom-lady calls out from inside. ‘You study for one or two hours. I’ll call the taxi and we’ll go shopping after lunch, ok?’ 

‘Cool! Thanks so much Mama, I loooove you!’ Kinky sing songs and makes kissy kissy noises. 

Paati peeps out cautiously and I say, ‘What did I tell you? It’s ok. They’re not going to 

jump today. See? They’re going shopping instead.’ 

Father