Forever Fifteen

Ashok stared into the mirror. His brown eyes went over his creased forehead that was dotted with pimples. He ran a hand through his hair and winced every time he saw a white strand peek out from underneath the mess of brown. He sighed as he remembered the unopened books that waited in his school bag, and the chemistry test paper he had to get signed by his parents. In his eleven-year-school-life, it was the first time he had failed. His thoughts invariably turned to the night before the test.

“Dada, won’t you come out to play?” his younger brother, Rakesh whined.

“No.”

“But, Dada, you promised!” Rakesh insisted. Ashok felt his anger rise.

“I have a test. I have to study. Just go!” Ashok said in a staccato voice.

“But, Dada, you’re not even studying! You’re on your phone!” Ashok snapped his mobile shut.

“Shut up! Will you? Just mind your own business, idiot!” he roared. A look of surprise crossed Rakesh’s face. Tears filled his eyes.

Ashok felt a strange satisfaction as he watched his younger brother run out of the room crying.

He sighed; the guilt weighed him down. He’d upset his younger brother on his birthday. He had failed in a chemistry test, but above all, he had failed his parents. Colour crept up his cheeks as he recalled what he had started doing in the lab a few weeks prior, and had continued since.

“How do you get it right every time?” he asked Aditi, who was working beside him, in awe. His value of the amount of hydrochloric acid was quite a few mililitres above the desired result.

“What?” Aditi inquired, looking up from the conical flask where she was titrating sodium carbonate.

“Uh, shouldn’t you be looking at your solution now?” Ashok muttered embarrassed. Every student of chemistry knew how important it was to note exactly when the pale yellow of methyl orange gave way to pale pink. He felt ashamed to have interrupted his lab mate at such a crucial point of time. Aditi shrugged.

“Everyone knows what the value we’re supposed to get is,” she said nonchalantly. She smartly jotted down the much-coveted number, fifteen, in her notebook without sparing a glance at the twenty-nine mililitres of hydrochloric acid in her burette.

Ashok turned to his own apparatus, a look of comprehension dawning on his face. He reached for his eraser. He got full marks in the lab that day.

He sighed. That wasn’t the only time he had compromised on his morals. He had promised himself that taking the easy way out would be his last resort, but it turned out to be a plan he resorted to more often than not.

“Bro, come on! The match’s gonna start soon.”

Ashok glanced at Aarav.”But we have class now,” he said.

“That’s the point, man. Gotta scoot before Radha comes.”  Ms. Radha Roy happened to be the mathematics teacher, a teacher for whom Ashok had a great deal of respect.

“You coming or not?”

Ashok looked around the class; hardly anyone was there. He gave in. “Let’s go,” he murmured.

He never regretted bunking that class.

There were no regrets till that moment – the moment when his eyes met his reflection’s. His reflection’s eyes seemed to be probing, and questioning him. He felt decidedly uneasy. His mind wandered to the previous weekend, the most embarrassing moment of his life.

“And this, is my room!” Ashok said dramatically as he finished giving his friends a tour of the flat. Aarav yawned widely, not attempting to stifle it. Ashok froze. For some reason, he felt desperate to impress his friends, even as he knew with certainty that the tour had failed his purpose.

“That’s all?” Anushka asked, bored.

“Y-yeah,” he replied nervously.

“Hey! What’s this?” Rohit asked suddenly, lunging for a photo frame that was propped on the dressing table.

“Happy fifteenth birthday, Aashi,” Aarav read over Rohit’s shoulder. “Who’s Aashi?” he asked, a vicious smile on his face.

Ashok turned beet red. “Th-that’s my br-brother,” he stammered nervously, cursing his family for not removing the photo frame. He knew the gang would tease him endlessly if they knew his nickname. He wouldn’t be able to take it.

“Looks a hell like you,” Swati commented, as she took a look.

“AASHI! Come here for a moment, sweetheart.” It was his mother’s voice.

 His friends turned to look at him. All at once, they started laughing.

“You’re Aashi!”

“But that’s a girl’s name!”

“Mummy’s sweetheart!”

Ashok wished the ground would swallow him. Suddenly his mother appeared at the door. “Ash-”

“SHUT UP!” he roared. “You have to embarrass me the whole time, don’t you? Why ever did you have to call me by that name in front of my friends? I had told you not to! I HATE YOU!” He snatched the photo frame from a shocked Rohit, dashed it towards the ground and stormed out of the room, leaving his mother surprised, and upset.

He sighed deeply. He knew he would never forget the hurt look on his parents’ face. He felt guilty about his actions. His life felt so messed up; he only wished he could start over again.

“AASH-” His mother’s voice came from the other end of the flat, before halting suddenly. “ASHOK, Dinner’s served!” Ashok sighed, and ran a hand through his brown hair. It was too late.

“Coming!” he yelled back.

Ashok walked out of the room, and towards the dining room without glancing at the dustbin where Aashi’s photograph lay along with shards of broken glass. Aashi was no more. Ashok had turned sixteen, but not young, smiling, care-free Aashi.  He would remain fifteen. Forever.