Mil leaned against the window frame in the back seat as the car zoomed through the bustling streets. She remembered a physics lesson from last year. The zig-zag motion of a car in traffic was the example of random motion. Of course, the other example was a bee. The potholes that troubled citizens last year had been mended to now. Mil watched as fruit vendors pushed their stalls around the streets where buyers refused his product. If you observed these buyer's next move, you would find them walking inside a giant mart where they sold nothing but the pleasures of being rich, posh and buying from a brand.
The car got through the traffic and reached an almost empty road only to slow down in front of a temple. Temples were in a way the prime factor of the country's slow movements. Mil observed the sparking lights dangling from the top of the building. Her vision slowly moved downwards. It was unusual how the patriotic stacked bunches of cash in the temple's charity box rather than giving it to the poor children begging outside. The charity box painted in white and lettered in red would soon be painted over with the guilt of stealing from the poor. But if guilt could hold back a person, humankind wouldn't have built prisons.
Mil added half an hour to her lacking sleep, dozing off over the comfortable cushion. It was only when they reached the venue did she regain her consciousness. If fairies existed, this would be how their day-to-day life looked like. Especially the girls dressed in satin and silk, some wearing Lehengas like Mil and the others a sari. Mil diverted her eyes from the pretty girls the second she noticed she was staring at them a little too long. But it would be a lie if she said she didn't steal another glance. To pretend to be straight in an event full of pretty girls and straight people waiting to point fingers was a task. Mil asked herself what acting straight would even look like, hence she copied every hand movement she saw the hazy figure of a girl do in the corner of the room. She swung her hands over her mouth when she laughed and bowed when she saw an elder. And most importantly, Mil did not stare at girls.
Mil had already stolen four glances at the girl in the corner. To answer the question, 'did Mil actually look to copy her movements or to figure out her face', she herself didn't know. The fifth time she turned, the girl was missing.
"Her appearance reminded me of nightingale though." Mil muttered under her breath.
"Mil, come here, meet Mr. and Mrs. Ranjan."
An old saggy couple greeted her cheerfully. Mil bowed politely again. She did not know if they were close to her father or if they were enemies in office but she knew that she had to be polite.
Typical.
Mil looked at her mother, trying to analyze whether the party in question was trustworthy. And when the parent's and child's eyes met, the former gave a curt nod.
Mil let her guard off.
Here's the thing about office politics, Indian office politics to be precise. You get dragged into the masterplan even if you would rather live a normal life. And if you're keen into being the mastermind, then your children are prone to be part of this workout. And for Indians, this was what you called the *be the better child* or the *Sharma uncle's ideal son*. No one knew who exactly Mr. Sharma was. But apparently his son was a genius.
The recipe was simple, add a little bit of genius and a smooth talker, be a bit egoistic but not to the extent that everyone hates you. You need not be at the top of your class but extracurricular matters. And the most important ingredient was to act fake to the face. Mil, though unpredictable, was the best in this category. Her golden card was her mathematics club everyone was jealous of.
"Mil, you're such a pretty girl. But your acne..." Mrs. Ranjan dragged off. "Child, do you use any medicine? You should try homeopathy. My sister in law's friend used it for a month. And not only did her acne scars fade, she became fair in color."
Yet again, Mil was assigned with the task of faking her face of gratitude. And when the elder took the teen by her hands, the actor had mastered the skill of method acting. Mil squeezed her hands with a curt nod. Perhaps, she would have made a great member of the drama club.
"You know my daughter, she's about your age. Maybe you know her. Or maybe you don't. Perhaps you've heard of her. Anyways, I've bathed her with turmeric since childhood. Look at the girl now, never had acne in her life, and is so white skinned that I've had mothers tell me to let her marry their son."
Mil pitied the daughter at this point. To think that skin color still defined beauty. Internally, she made a bet that she would be prettier than the girl who has never had acne in her life.
Unless, the girl was nightingale. Then Mil wouldn't mind being the loser.
"There she comes, child, come here, meet your New Friend." Mrs. Ranjan called out to a distant figure with a stress on the word *New Friend*.
"Hello Auntie." The girl clasped her hands together right after reaching the crowd. Mil could see the hem of her royal blue gown.
"This is my daughter, Misha."
Introductions were made and it was finally time to prove the beauty wrong. A slight doubt arrived at this point. Misha? Sounds oddly familiar.
"Hi, Mil, right? We worked on a song before remember?"
Mil jerked her head upwards and towards the girl as fast as she could. To think that they would be reunited in such a way. Mil would have cringed and giggled both if she read it in a book. Was it a love-hate relationship? Nevertheless, one thing was clear and that was the fact that the girl nicknamed nightingale was named Misha.
Nightingale looked like a nightingale. Nightingale looked dashing.
Pretty.
Nightingale looked like someone whose name would be Misha.
Teenagers might not drink but they have felt drunk at least once in their life, be it pretend drunk over a bottle of apple fizz or plain water. Maybe they felt drunk on their first love or maybe they were surviving on a few hours of sleep. Mil convinced herself that what she was feeling at the moment was because of the lack of sleep. Could she lie to herself? Later, the two would realize that they felt the same emotions building up inside their stomach at this particular moment of time.
"Now that the two of you can keep each other company, we will go catch up with adults, okay?" Mil's mother said before walking away with her friend, leaving Mil and Misha alone. While Mil would have been far more comfortable exploring the banquet alone, Misha loved the pairing more than anything. If she was fond of the classmate or just didn't want to seem like a loner alone in the party was a question met with no answers.
"Do you want to eat something?" Mil broke the awkward silence.
"Maybe a little later. We should get drinks right now." Misha replied.
Mil almost burst out laughing. She knew Misha was talking about soda but the way she addressed the sentence made her seem old. Like a tired man in his late thirties asking to grab a drink after a long day of hard work.
"You sound like you are offering alcohol." Mil accidentally spoke out loud.
"Maybe one day I will." Misha didn't seem to mind joining in.
The two grabbed the blue drinks that the waiter carried round the venue. Since the weather had become slightly warm, the drinks were topped with ice. The shades of the fuzzy drinks of blue matched with the dangling of the ice cubes. Drops of water condensed outside and dripped through their hands. As such, the girls were forced to hurry and grab a seat at one of the edges of the large ground. The drinks now rested on the tables and the owners on the chair.
"Here, wipe your hand." Mil offered a wet-wipe packet she found on a rack nearby.
"Thank you. How has school been by the way? I took some days off if you didn't notice." Misha smiled.
"Oh, I did, and with school, nothing much happened recently. A lot of homework waiting on you though." Mil giggled.
"I heard you are doing a special performance for the morning assembly."
Mil, oh Mil... look at what has happened?
"Somehow it turned out that way." Mil bowed towards her fidgeting hands.
This time Mil could notice the small details on her companion. Misha wore a royal blue Lehenga paired with black boots. The latter was similar to Mil's and unknowingly she was delighted by the pairing. A white dupatta dangled through Misha's shoulder till her knees. In a way the white also merged with her skin, specially towards her stomach since the top she wore was a crop-top. The fusion of traditional and modern suited the girl. Mil would occasionally steal a glance towards Misha's black choker or her bangles that made a clanking noise every time it hit the wooden table as she reached towards her drink.
Mil wore a blue Lehenga with a darker shade of dupatta. This was paired with black boots. A pendant and earrings would finish her entire look. Mil was dressed so similar yet so different to Misha. Mil's Lehenga was a different blue. Like the sky during a sunny day or the pond when swans swam across it. Misha's was the blue plastic of the popular potato chips or the sapphire when it glowed under the flashlight.
"It sounds hilarious, I hope I'm back by the day you need to perform." Misha said as she gulped down the entire drink.
"I hope you're back by that time too. I feel like Anu is going to pull some weird trick or two that day. It wouldn't be as hilarious to hear about it later than to witness it." Mil laughed as she looked towards the sky and acted like she was praying.
Mil wasn't praying. As a matter of fact, she hoped that Misha would rest more and miss the performance. After all, no one wishes to be embarrassed before their crush.
Wait... crush?
Mil gobbled down the entire glass.
The blue had faded and the transparent white had taken over. Just like how white clouds take over the blue sky.