*12*

“How...how on earth is this even possible!” I wanted to slam my head hard, who actually did invent these theorems, I inwardly cringed knowing the answer! “and this mean value…how…”

“Stop overreacting. It's easy...you just have to…” he stopped when my ferocious glare landed on him, “Okay...okay” he chuckled, “let me show you.”

“Please. Even this calculator is not working properly.” my annoyance had skyrocketed already, “And you...how come you are not using a calculator?”

Smirking he took my calculator, and when I was ready to throttle him, “Please change the mode.” he said, “what's this Suman, why so inattentive?”

“I don't know. Nothing is right, what am I going to do when I can't get these simple things! Exams are here...And…”

“Oh please everything will be fine. Now chalo concentrate.” And there he was, looking all calm and composed, savouring every moment holding the pen in his hand, storming down the page. Talk about life being unfair.

“I am tired and bored.” I mumbled clear enough for him to hear.

He huffed, “You can't really be bored Suman, and please concentrate, see in the interval there must be…”

“I can't Shravan, not now. I need a break from this.”

“And what exactly do you want to do?” I looked at him, his expression was bored and he was looking at me like he was talking to a two year old child.

I roughly shoved my books into my bag and stood up. “I am going.”

“And exactly where are you going?” He sprang to his feet, the wooden step of the staircase under his feet made a little squeak out of protest.

“Stop breaking things.” I murmured, knowing breaking and thrashing things were his favourite pastime. “And where are you going?” He opened his mouth to reply, and I shrugged carelessly “don't even dare, I am not going to that book store.”

“Why are you making it an issue Suman, you are just nervous nothing else.” he followed me when I didn't mind to look back.

“Of course it's easy for you to say, professors’ favourite.” I rolled my eyes, Shravan was someone who miraculously knew all the answers as if all those answers were already there in his head. Life is unfair hence proved again.

~♤~

“Kuch sunao na…” I sighed, looking at the greenish water of the pond where water rippled from my constant attacking with pebbles.

“What do you want to hear!”

“Anything Mr know it all, anything that comes in your mind.”

“Hmm. Okay a Neruda poem may be...” he rubbed his chin with his index finger, I had noticed this before, whenever he was in deep thought he did this, may be unconsciously.

“In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud

and your form and colour are the way I love them.

You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips

and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,

My sour wine is sweeter on your lips,

oh reaper of my evening song,

how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's

wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.

Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder

stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love,

and my nets of music are as wide as the sky.

My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.

In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.”

He stopped looking at me, and arched his brow a little, “What?”

“How come you remember all these things?” I sat there crossing my leg, I felt my IQ was so below average that I couldn't even look at him. “I can't even remember my own phone number.” I grumbled.

“Because I want to remember.”

“What?”

“Suman, we, I mean we the human, we tend to remember things only that interest us. I love reading poems, so naturally I remember.” He laughed.

I blinked a couple of times, seeing Shravan giving a boisterous laugh, like this was such a rare sight to behold, but somehow I still managed to keep my logic up, “and you love remembering phone numbers too?”

“Only of the people I love.” He shrugged.

At the back of my mind, someone whispered, He remembers only Nani’s and Yours. But as usual the logical part of my brain hushed that certain someone. “Hmmm. Complicated...you know...you are way too complicated for your own good.”

“Why?”

“Why!” I laughed, “look at you Shravan! You are a genius, not only that sometimes you are way better than the professors, looks like even they can take classes from you; then the languages, I mean all the foreign languages you know, and not only you know them you are quite good at them; then come poems, novels, films and not to forget those weird musical instruments you can play!”

The words that came out from my mouth sounded so absurd even to my own ears, that I flinched, knowing very well that everything I said was one hundred percent right. For a nineteen year old boy, he was way more mature, more well read than most of the teachers we had in our college.

“Is it a bad thing?”

His calm voice made me look at him only to find him already looking at me but with brows furrowed and mouth pressed together in a thin line.

I shook my head, “No not a bad thing, but you know, you don't behave like a normal nineteen year old, you are always so serious, always so focused...it's like you just don't want to enjoy your life.”

“I just love being perfect.”

I laughed, “Tell me something I don't know!” he was indeed perfect in whatever he did. “But don't you realise Shravan, life is not about being perfect, where’s the fun then!

You know, it's okay to be a little imperfect, it's okay to be a little messy, that's how life is. A little up, a little down, a little here and there, and of course not to forget commas, semicolons and full stops.”

I shook my head again, I had this weird tendency to talk more than necessary, a girl like me who was always driven by logic, sounded a bit emotional to my own ears, why do you care that obnoxious someone whispered again, it's his life, you are his friend and you should be proud of him, there's no point in criticising him.

“ADHD.” A long and deep sigh broke the silence between us.

“What?”

“I...I have ADHD.” he murmured. Shravan looked shy, not only shy he looked uncomfortable, he was biting his lower lip, eyes dipped down behind those long lashes, he looked grim.

Assuming it was something serious, I asked, “What is that?”

“Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.”

“Hyperactive well that I agree, but Attention Deficit and you. Please tell me you are joking.” though I laughed but Shravan stood there rooted, not moving a millimeter, then only I realised, he was holding his breath.

He sighed, “It's a mental disorder…” he paused to look at my expression, I dared not to think how actually my face looked at that time. “A mental disorder of the neurodevelopmental type. It is characterized by problems regarding paying attention, excessive activity, or difficulty in controlling behavior which is not appropriate for a person's age.”

“Oh!”

“I was four when I was diagnosed with ADHD. I was excessively naughty...Nani says I didn't know how to sit at one particular place, always running around and doing all sorts of mischief. Not only that, I couldn't talk properly, couldn't form a proper sentence, only some basic words like Mama, Papa, Nani…I was bad at studies too. My play school teacher always used to complain to Mom, 'he doesn't listen, he doesn't talk, and he has serious anger issues in one word he is not normal'.”

I kept mum, for some reason I was grateful that he actually thought to share his hidden secrets with me. But never had I imagined in my life, that Shravan would have gone through such a bad phase.

“It must be frustrating right?” I mumbled slowly.

“Oh you have no idea.”

“Then?”

“Nani took me to a psychiatrist, at that time going to a psychiatrist means you are mentally sick. But still Nani took the risk and there the doctor told her that I have mild ADHD. He said let him do whatever he wants, engage him into various activities, like singing, dancing, aerobics… let him be tired. Then only can he concentrate on any particular thing as he would be too tired to even move. He will sit and he will definitely study.

I started learning everything at once, taekwondo, kickboxing, aerobics, dancing ; singing never really did fascinate me so I took classes on guitar, viola, and tabla. At the end of the day, I used to be so tired that I couldn't even move my limbs. And that was the time when I used to study.”

I gaped at him with my jaw nearly opening and closing like a fish, “Well that’s...that's a lot of pressure for a four year old.”

He merely shrugged, “It was necessary...It took me almost ten years to control my emotions, then only I stopped taking classes of aerobics and dancing. But kick boxing was there. The only way to channelise my physical strength and anger.”

“Well you have anger issues.” I mumbled.

“I try to control Suman, but sometimes I fail. This disorder actually never gets cured, it will be always here…” he pointed towards his head. “But it's just now I know how to control it. I still can't sit idle, I always need to do something or the other, or I might practically go insane. So I switched my interest into learning languages as I can't really practice taekwondo or kickboxing and trust me it takes much more brain activity than I could have ever imagined.”

“Hmmm.” I laughed, “I always knew something is wrong with you.”

He laughed at it too, “very wrong.”

“So now?”

“Now what! I'll always be like this, abnormal, my OCD too comes from this. I love routine, I like the things as they have always been, I don't like changes, so it's not easy for me to accept a messy life.”

“Hmmm.” I thought not to push him more, “we need to go back, it's time. And Shravan…”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for telling me...I mean…”

He smiled, that actually reached to his eyes, “No, thank you for not judging me. You have no idea what does it mean to me.”

He was walking a bit ahead, putting his hands in his pant pockets, his shoulders relaxed, I heard him humming an unheard tune, when my mind went back to his recital...to a particular line...

‘You are taken in the net of my music, my love,

and my nets of music are as wide as the sky…’

~♤~