The beginning

It was eight thirty when Sridharan entered his standard X class. He had been studying in the same school for the past eight years and it had always been his habit to come earlier. It was his routine to come to the school one hour before the start of the classes. The class was deserted as usual when he came in. As time passed, he watched a few of his classmates running around here and there. A bevy of girls were sitting in a corner and were continuing their usual giggling and chattering. He paused thinking what would be their topic of chattering or if they needed one at all. Sridharan watched the students filling in as he dreamily sat in a corner without any thoughts. The bell struck. He checked his watch and the hands were at nine and five. All of his classmates filed in silently waiting for the arrival of their biology teacher. The bell struck again and after three hundred seconds he opened his botany textbook and flipped through it. After ten minutes the diagram of cell was drawn on the overused black, probably a grey board. Madam asked her favorite pupil the first question,” what is the content of cell wall?” The answer came at once, ’Cellulose’. Sridharan’s hand shot up. ‘Yes, Sridharan?’ “Ma’am but what is cellulose made of?” “Cellulose is made of polysaccharides which contain Carbon, Hydrogen and oxygen,” the favorite pupil spat out with a look of triumph in his face, satisfied with his own self. The class then gathered momentum as she started teaching of the further constituents of cell.

The bell rang four times signaling the beginning of fourth period, Sridharan’s favorite, Chemistry period. The topic was resonance in benzene. The Sir started his narration as he entered the class. He elaborately discussed the electron movement inside the compound and the corresponding structures involved in it. When two hands of clock were exactly away, sridharan’s hand shot up. This was usual for the chemistry teacher, to see his favorite boy’s hand, standing as a tower in midst of stony heads. His question,” Sir, How can carbon and hydrogen containing electrons, protons and neutrons think about them?” “Sorry. I can’t understand. Repeat it.” “Sir, our body is made of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen and we are studying about it. How can carbon and hydrogen by which we are made, think about themselves?” The bell rang and his doubt was lost in the shouts by his classmates. The teacher too as was his usual practice went out of the class before the others.

At four, the whole school roared with bells and Sridharan as usual waited for everyone to leave the class. He had found much pleasure in talking with animals, trees and objects other than his classmates. According to him the plants and nonliving objects were better companions to him than his classmates. But to his surprise, that day, the girl who usually sits before him was standing at the exit as if waiting for someone.

Puzzled, he walked out of the class and she too followed along with him. Confused, he looked at her. She was just following him. He continued walking and she came beside him and started talking, “Hi! I wanted to talk with you and that’s why I was waiting. Don’t you talk with anyone in class?” None has asked him this ever. He was angry but realized that it was an undeniable fact. She continued, “My name is Brindha. I think you know it and I am living in the street adjacent to yours.” He had known her name but din know that a classmate lived near his home. In fact he didn’t know any of his classmate’s home. She still continued,” I heard your doubt to our chemistry sir. I was not able to understand even a word of it. Can you explain me?” Sridharan had never talked to a girl before; his thoughts directly went to the nearest plant in the road out of habit. He started answering in the usual way, like how he spoke with plants and found that this was almost the same. But this ‘thing’ could wonder, make him explain more and ask doubts. She had thought him to be a proud and arrogant guy who thought others as speck of dust. Now he was emptying his mind and his thoughts to her. She knew that she was talkative and a carefree girl. But he was so different from her and she probably couldn’t get most of his words of explanation. Words came more freely from him now as they went on. Suddenly he stopped as she had stopped. They were at the end of his street. He did not know what to say. She filled in saying, “Hey, see you. My home is on the next street. Bye!” He too bid her farewell and walked by his street. He felt good to have someone to hear his talks. Remembering about his speech, more of a lecture, he went to his house.