A Balanced Equation - Part 1

When a tormented subject paves way for a new journey “Math again!” The entire class groaned in frustration, my voice of complaint louder than everyone else’s, causing the teacher to furrow her brows with a stern expression on her face.

She meticulously shifted her gaze on me, scrupulously scrutinizing each whine with utter disappointment. I dipped my head in sheepish embarrassment, rubbing my nape in nervousness. Someone tugged my arm who reciprocated the flash of worry on my face, shaking her head, conveying ‘you’re gone’.

My breaths quickened and a bead of sweat rolled off my forehead as I saw her approaching my desk. Before I could come up with a plausible excuse, she tapped the end of the wooden table that held so many scratches of boredom with her ruler before casting a glance towards me.

I dubiously raised my eyelids to meet her austere stare while she bobbed her head in inspection.

“You don’t like math, is that what I heard?”

“I wasn’t the only one..” I attempted only to get interrupted.

“But you were the loudest.”

I sighed in defeat and my shoulders slumped, “Why this subject?”

“Because it’s important and applicable wherever you go.” She explained.

“I still don’t score above 40%, so I’m definitely not finding its application useful.” I grunted in misery. Her eyes still shone with hope as she tilted her head in sympathy.

“You will one day. But never stop trying, Naina.”

“Are you sure I’ll pass?” I asked almost immediately in a boisterous anxiety.

“Oh you will, and in many things. Wait until you find out.” She smiled, before walking away.

“Okay class, we’ll start off with balancing equations. Now remember the values on one side must be equal to the sum on the other side in order for it to be perfect.” She explained a bunch of Grade 7 students who sat impatiently, filling the suffocating silence with irrelevant murmurs.

“I can’t balance my life with school here, how am I supposed to balance equations?” I whispered to my best friend Swati, who erupted in giggles.

“What if one side is greater than the other, miss?” A boy raised his hand in curiosity, while I muttered incorrigibly. How could someone show interest in such a monotonous subject like Math?

“Then you do whatever you can to make both sides equal. Because balance is very important, Sameer.” She smiled as she wrote unfamiliar variables; x and y on the board. My brows puckered at the symbols inadvertently before shifting my gaze to the boy sitting rows behind me, on one corner of the classroom. Silky long hair that brushed off at his nape and a radiant smile that played on his lips. His facial features incredibly attractive that ignited a spark whenever I crossed his path. In an oversized white shirt teamed with turquoise pants, the school uniform suddenly looked fashionable on him. We hadn’t interacted much, for we were too busy in our own worlds and also the fact that he had recently joined school, but frankly speaking, he looked no less than a hero of a novel. Only that he had a deep crush on someone, rather something. Mathematics. Sameer Maheshwari. A name and person so astoundingly charismatic with such a disgraceful interest.

The bell rang minutes into another confusing algebraic problem to which I sighed in relief. Students filed like birds chirped in glee and my smile widened to a grin. Just when I had carefully placed each textbook accompanied by its respective workbook back in my bag, I heard our teacher call out to me.

“Naina, come here for a minute.” I happily obliged as I skipped myself amidst the rows of desks to hers. The orange ‘sari’ flared, brightening her aura while her hopeful smile lifted my spirits. Her hair had loosely been tied up in a bun, secured by a hairpin. Shanti Ma’am, the one teacher I considered my inspiration.

Lightly caressing my hand with her soft hands, she signaled me to sit on the nearest chairs and I obeyed.

“Naina, you take every subject diligently which is why you top everytime too. Then why such a dislike for Math in particular?”

I pondered over the idea of sharing one of my deepest secrets with my teacher. One look, and the slightest hint of hesitance had vanished, leaving behind absolute faith in her.

I breathed before revealing, “I feel intimidated, Ma’am. It’s the pressure, and specifically for Math. I’ve never been sabotaged to this extent by my family. Despite how well I score in all my other subjects, it’s just this one that holds the top spot in their priority list. And that’s what scares me the most; the one fact that I don’t score well.”

A tear slipped down my right cheek while I stifled a sniff, afraid to meet her gaze. Instead of the expected reprimand, Shanti Ma’am touched touched the very cheek with motherly affection, “What’s your favorite subject?”

“English.” I said without a blink as she smiled.

“Mine too.”

“You know why I often see a reflection of myself in you, Naina?” She asked as I shook my head obliviously.

“Because of our similarities. Which is why I’ll give you the right advice, because its tried and tested.” She chortled lightly before turning grim again.

“Start writing a diary. Vent your feelings, express yourself. And because you’re so fond of the subject, you won’t find writing burdensome either.” Her words somehow soothed my heart as I stood up with newfound determination.

“And Naina.” She called out, making me turn.

“Don’t hate that poor subject. Have confidence in yourself, and everything will be just right.” She said with a lingering smile on her face as I reciprocated her tranquility on my face.

Lights flickered but the hope remained stagnated. Ink stained my fingers while a crisp sheet of paper found its way onto my desk. Feet tapped at irregular intervals while my hands fidgeted at the hour of midnight.

7th February, 1989

8:47 PM

Dear Diary,

This is Naina. Naina Agarwal. A 14-year-old student studying at Pragati Vidya ka Mandir. I’m not too sure of what to write because of two reasons. One, I have never kept a diary before. And two, I have already shared my feelings with Shanti Ma’am today. Which reminds me, if it weren’t her, then we would’ve never met. I don’t know whether I’ll be regular in writing to you, but I can guarantee, that you’ll be the first person to know each feeling I experience. I don’t think you know me, so there are a few things I want to tell you. One, I’m a very diligent and obedient girl who never lies. Two, I wish to be a writer one day, so you might find me writing to you through stories. And three, I hate Math.

I know Shanti Ma’am advised otherwise, but it’ll take me sometime to get over this deep crush I have over my ‘favorite subject’. Which brings me to the point that Sameer Maheshwari actually loves the subject. I mean, is he even real?

I need to go to bed before Chachiji gets upset, so I’ll tell you about Sameer some other day. Until then, goodbye.

Naina Agarwal

 

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9th March, 1989

8:56 PM

Dear Diary,

You know how I had introduced Sameer to you? Well, let me give you an elaborate introduction of him. Sameer Maheshwari. A boy I barely know. But a boy who has evoked strange feelings within me. They’re indescribable, so I don’t possibly know how to put them in words. But my heart races faster than a helicopter, and there is this uncanny burning sensation in the pit of my stomach each time I see him. My fingers battle with each other, my lips quiver in anxiety and find myself struggling for air. What is this feeling?

………………………………….

6th May, 1989

7:51 PM

Dear Diary,

I have this slight inclination that Shanti Ma’am has understood my inner turmoil of raging feelings. Maybe she has understood more than I wanted her to, more than I’ve understood myself, perhaps. Because she paired me with Sameer. Sameer Maheshwari! I know, I can’t believe it either. My fingers are still trembling, but I just have to pen this down.

Finals are in a month, and Shanti Ma’am really want me to score well this time, I want to bring a smile on her face too. But she did something I had least expected her to do. She assigned a task to be done in pairs; in math. And she paired me with Sameer...I can’t even begin to describe the sensations.

It wasn’t just how well he explained algebra to me, but it was more of that one second when our hands brushed against each others. As if an electric current had passed through me, because I couldn’t move. I was stunned to the core, Diary. That soft brush ignited so many sparks that I never knew existed. And so many dreams I never thought I could imagine.

Maybe I could score well in Math, after all.

……………………………………………

11th July, 1989

8:44 PM

Dear Diary,

Results are out. And guess what, I scored 70% in math!  It’s not too decent of a grade, but it’s still better than 40%. The entire credit goes to Sameer. He topped in Math as I did with other subjects. Geography, History, Hindi, and most importantly, English. But Sameer constantly remained by my side, like a rock. He stayed back afterschool every day to make sure I had all the concepts clear in my head. He also prepared a revision booklet for me; handwritten. Does he really care that much about me? How could someone?

The churning has intensified, and so have the frequency of feelings. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way. All of this seems so bookish, but so true. His smile makes my day. And his gloominess saddens me. We’ve talked a few times, apart from our study sessions. His family is….well, complicated, similar to mine. He wishes to make his Nanu proud, and a small part of my heart yearns to be part of that list someday. His thoughts are deep that sometimes surface, and I’m glad they surface in front of me. I’m dreaming too much, Diary. I feel I might wound myself with these.

Sameer + Naina = Perfect.

A perfectly balanced equation. I can’t stop smiling.

………………………………………..  

31st August, 1989

7:31 PM

Dear Diary,

I don’t have much to say but I was getting bored, so decided to write to you. I know you’re upset, I can only write if I find time. And all my time is consumed by Sameer Maheshwari. I don’t think I have or will able to harbor feelings as I have for him. Each day he comes up with something new that makes me adore him more, and the spark continues to intensify.

But that doesn’t mean he--or his thoughts have hampered my studies. I’m getting better in Math, I scored a good 83% on our last exams. He topped once again, and my respect for him just grows.

I can’t stop gushing, Diary. Maybe this isn’t my diary anymore. This is Naina and Sameer’s diary.

…………………………………..

5th June, 1990

3:34 AM

Dear Diary,

What I did to you deserves no apology, and still I beg for one. I haven’t written to you in months...forget that, I didn’t even wish you on our first anniversary. Maybe because I’ve forgotten myself too. Lost in a world of dark abyss that sees no end.

I thought and thought, for innumerable hours, looking for ways to confront you. Because I think this is the end.

It’s been a month. But I still can’t get over it. Can’t get over him. Can’t get over the trauma. I don’t think I’ll be able to either. I feel suffocated yet numb, dead yet breathing. My feelings seem delusional too; or maybe they always were.

They left. Sameer left. Swati too. First it tore me, and then it shook me to the core. While I was busy weaving my dreams, destiny decided to ruin everything. In my oblivion, I failed to notice my best friend and her growing feelings towards the boy I had started to…

She finally confronted and told me how deeply she had fallen in love with him. And I no longer had the courage to ask him, I was too afraid to shatter into pieces.

They’ve moved out with their families and plan on completing their high school someplace else, together.

I don’t think I have the strength to think about him anymore, without shedding tears. I’m exhausted. Torn. Bashfully wounded.

My equation was as weak as me. Math did give up on me after all.

And with this, so does our journey end, Diary. I can’t think about anything that reminds me of him. That includes you. That includes myself too.

…………………………….

4th April, 1993

7:01 AM

Dear Diary,

This is Naina. Naina Agarwal. An 18-year-old college student studying at VJN university. We have met before, but due to the melancholy in my life which I very artfully tried to ignore, we haven’t interacted in around three years. My appearance has changed. The tips of my hair that earlier brushed at the edge of my shoulders now reach to the small of my back. They fall in absurd curls, almost unintentional. The eyebags are scrupulously hidden behind a layer of foundation that I wear on compulsion and a thin line of kohl continues to glimmer each day, reminding me of the borders I had once drew. My fingers have thinned and the sides are dented with the number of hours I spend scribbling relevant ideas and irrelevant possibilities. I seldom wear pants because I can’t bear to see my appearance at missing meals almost regularly. And just for the trend, something that I’m supposed to be enthralled for; my collarbones are visible.

There are still three things I want you to know. One, I still am a diligent and an obedient girl who however has started to lie; but only a little, and for the good. Two, I still wish to pursue writing, and you wouldn’t be surprised at seeing the loose notes stacked in the far end of my cupboard. And three, I hate heartbreaks. And love, perhaps.

So now you probably have an intuition as to why we reconciled. Because like you, I too have a feeling that the past is back, to haunt me.