The Year 1997

By Anuya Ulpe Mahajan

1997 was the year that Ketki came of age. High school was a big deal and grade eight

was going to make or break her stint, or so she had heard. As per her seniors, one

needed three skills to survive high school - friends, academic score and popularity. Ketki

had none of these. With her old friends from primary and middle school having left one

after another since America was handing out visas like Halloween candy, Ketki was

going to have to do this alone.

Academic score, well, she’d rather not discuss. Her parents never pushed her beyond

herself, all they asked for was a score within a decent range. It was an unspoken deal.

Her parents never put her on a conveyor belt like other parents so subconsciously Ketki

put pressure on herself and drove herself insane during exam time! But the family had

an understanding that if she were to fall she could always pick herself up.

Then there was the matter of popularity - the most important weapon in high school.

Ketki was a nobody. Nobody knew her or had seen her in action. Ketki had, by grade

eight, mastered the art of appearing invisible. Even at home, her parents would check

her room to see if she’s really in there studying. With few friends to speak of, Ketki

immersed into hobbies like collecting glitter glue, scrapbooking, reading comic books

and newspapers and watching the daily news with her parents. While the rest of her

classmates had moved on to listening to the English music and playing FLAMES on the

blackboard.

But 1997, changed everything. Also, she began to understand the concept of death...

The one topic everyone conveniently ignored and awkwardly dealt with if it ever came

up. First Diana then Mother Teresa, within weeks of each other. It had been all over the

news - nobody could have missed it. “This will be the talk of the school,” wondered Ketki

as she set her bag for the next day.

She went to school on the 6th of September but that morning was strange. The toast

got burnt, she spilled milk on her uniform, and forgot her homework at home... the day

had only just begun. Everyone at school was unfazed. Why doesn’t anyone seem cut up

by the big story? Did they miss the news? The small town charm isn’t charming when

everyone’s living in a bubble, she always felt.

Ketki still took her chance, “Let’s test the water, shall we?” she said to herself as she

entered the classroom sheepishly. She was looking around for Manisha, the leader of

the group,”I’m sure SHE is up to date. She always has stuff to tell her friends,” she

whispered under her breath as she walked over to Miss Popular.

“Hey...what’s up? Did you...uh... see the news? It’s pretty sad, no?” Ketki said, having

mustered up all the courage she had.

“I knowwwww! Backstreet Boys’ new single is out and I can’t find a cassette anywhere

in Dharampur!” Manisha replied instantly over Asha’s shoulder, one of her minions.

Sigh. Ketki half smiled, “Uhh. Yeah OK”, she said before turning away, rolling her eyes

in abject disappointment, mouthing to herself, “Backstreet Boys? What!?”

It’s all the same to these bozos - Teresa or Backstreet Boys - does anyone care at this

school? All they can do is read out ‘The NEWS of the day’ over the mic like a parrot

without making any sense of the matter. “I bet they have never picked up a newspaper

voluntarily,” Ketki was muttering to herself in history class when Soham nudged her

gently and pointed at the teacher suggestively. She had a lot to ponder over at home

later.

As soon as she came home from school that afternoon, Ketki couldn’t wait to get to the

television. She caught up on all the highlights of the day until she had tears in her eyes.

The TV screen showed a tremendous crowd which had gathered to pay their respect to

Mother Teresa, meanwhile the newscaster was paying her a tribute by listing her good

work. Meanwhile, Ketki was having a deja vu - she remembered her essay on Mother

Teresa for Hindi class. Sitting in front of the television night after night, researching her

idol, scribbling notes on her pad - she felt like a real journalist. The only glitch was

translating the words from English to Hindi. She had her dad pick up a ‘Hindi

Shabdakosh’ and an English to Hindi dictionary on his way back from work. Ketki sure

did a thorough job on her essay but as luck would have it, she didn’t even get a ‘good

job’ from the teacher, Ms. Kanchan. Whereas Manisha and her clout received applause

on their essays. Ketki could smell the bias and decipher Ms. Kanchan’s crooked smile.

She did end up getting a good score but it would have been nice to hear about it in front

of everyone. You know, for popularity.

“I should have asked Bindu didi to write it instead!” Ketki said to her mom, regretfully. “I’ll

tell them one day...” resolved Ketki, “...very far from today”, she continued with a little

hesitation. That was months ago. Little did she know, she would be pouring over the

news of her idol, once again, but this time about her sudden demise. She was struggling

to make sense of why good things come to a tragic end.

First Diana then Mother Teresa. Two influential women, having accomplished so much

in their living years and naturally left a huge legacy behind. Although Ketki was immune

to all the politics around their achievements, she really looked up to these women. Their

death would certainly leave a void in the world - now who will carry on their philanthropic

work, she pondered. As per Ketki, God had been unfair in taking them away from an

inhuman world so soon. Especially with Lady Diana, the people’s princess.

Life went on. And it surely did at Ved Vidya School with nepotism at an all time high. But

Ketki was struggling to get used to it all. Nobody said high school was a walk in the

park. Her parents wanted her to shine and “grab every opportunity” as it came. Grabbed

she did - every opportunity to be invisible and deflect any attention from herself. On the

other hand, if she so much as dared to answer the teacher’s question by some fluke of

destiny, she was ridiculed by the popular girl gang. Ketki knew the answers to the

questions on current affairs, more often than not, in the Social Science class. But they

laughed at her and since she wasn’t the teacher’s pet, Mr. Sharma never came to her

rescue except a vague “Shush” every now and then. Good academic score and

sycophancy were prerequisites to becoming a teacher’s pet and Ketki had neither. She

had her own personality and charm but she was completely unaware about it. All that

was about to change.

Soon it was time for the Shivaji house assembly. Ketki was randomly picked to be the

backup news reader in the regular Friday meetings. Her face fell when her house in

charge, Ms. Anita picked her. So much for being invisible, she thought. “Did she pick me

because I’m in her line of sight or because I’ve got a book in my hand?” wondered

Ketki. “She has no idea who I am or what my name is. Why does this happen to me,

God?”

“If I bring this time in front of my parents, they won’t let me hear the end of it. Getting

their hopes up only to mess it up. I’ll just keep my mouth shut,” decided Ketki.

She woke up the fateful winter morning of 5th December and dragged herself out of

bed. “What’s taking you so long today? Finish your breakfast, will you?” her mom called

from the kitchen. Ketki didn’t hear her mom and was busy shoving stuff into her bag and

hurriedly zipped her bag with the paper still sticking out. Ketki’s dad who was also at the

table quickly glanced at her without saying a word. He knew better than to intervene. He

was always like that, in the background but discreet. Unlike Ketki’s mom, who ran

behind her the second she was out the door waving her lunch box and bottle in her

hands. “Let it be, something is bothering her today”, her dad said as he searched for the

morning newspaper.

The bus ride to school was painfully long and dreadful that day. Ketki played out various

scenarios in her mind - the worst kinds. “Manisha will be absent and they will send me

to speak instead...I’ll forget how to speak...everyone will look at me piercingly...I’ll be

flunked in this grade...the building will collapse...or the worst - I’ll start crying on

stage...”

“Hey! Get off!” screamed the conductor seeing Ketki was the last one on the bus. Ketki

brushed the thoughts aside and clutched her bag as she disembarked the bus. “I’m

dead...so dead”, she said to herself pacing towards the school gate.

The bell rang at 7.45 am and all the students rushed towards the amphitheater. “Look at

how excited they are to see me make a fool of myself.” Even though Ketki was a backup

reader, she had made up her mind that her world would come crashing down on her

that day. Something out there was going to get her that day - she had convinced herself

that the universe was conspiring against her. She always had rotten luck no matter how

well she was prepared. Today was one such day, she could feel it in her bones!

After the choir had sung the prayer, it was time for the thought of the day. Ketki and the

backup other children were neatly lined up adjacent to the stage along with the main

presenters. Ketki craned her neck, “Thought, News and article. All there! Phew!!”

thought Ketki and with a little excitement rocked back and forth on her heel.

Thought of the day was said. “Boring stuff really - copied from today’s page 7. Pfft! Bet

Shashi does not even know the meaning of the word ‘promulgate’!” Ketki was busy with

her thoughts as Manisha went up to present the news. “I’m off the hook! Thank you,

God” muttered Ketki and was immediately shushed by Ms. Anita.

Manisha had just started presenting the headline about the conviction of 49 Hindu

leaders in the Babri Masjid case, when Piyush fell to the ground unconscious. There

was a collective gasp in the amphitheater as teachers rushed to help him saying

‘nervousness’ in unison. As soon as the physical education teacher had carried Piyush

to the medical room, Anita Ma’am instructed Manisha to resume from the second

headline. Ketki was tap dancing in her line, when she heard her name . She turned

around to see Ms. Kanchan, her Hindi teacher pointing at her and saying something to

Ms. Anita. “Alright Ketki, come here please,” whispered Anita Ma’am. “Aww man, what

now! What the heck do they need me for?”muttered Ketki with a scowl.

“Ketki, beta you will present the article of the day now that Piyush is...” she trailed off

expecting a quick nod from Ketki. Instead she began to whimper and was unable to

refuse. Ms. Anita continued, “I don’t know where Piyush’s sheet is and to come to think

of it, he never handed me an extra copy. That boy I tell you!”

Ketki was mechanically nodding along when her teacher snapped, “Are you listening

Ketki? We don’t have a minute to waste. Kanchan Ma’am said you had written

something on Mother Teresa for Hindi class. You will present that after Manisha -

whatever little you remember.” There was no room for discussion.

Her worst nightmare was coming to life right before her eyes and she felt helpless.

Under normal circumstances, Ketki would have narrated her essay verbatim but doing

so in front of 500 students was simply out of the question. She had barely a second to

gather herself together when Ms. Anita pushed her onto the stairs of the stage as soon

as Manisha began to present the weather news. The weather was not in favour of Ketki,

“Lightning with a chance of striking me”, she muttered. A few children standing in the

front giggled.

“Uhh...”, was all Ketki could manage to blurt when Ms. Kanchan mouthed to her from

the sidelines. “Suprabhat priya adhyapak gana...aaj main aapke samne”, repeated

Ketki after her teacher while fighting back the tears that were welling up in her eyes.

The next two minutes were a big blur in Ketki’s memory. All she remembered saying

was ‘Dhanyawad’ which was immediately followed by a thunderous applause in the

amphitheater. Just then Ms. Anita and Ms. Kanchan came rushing onto the stage and

hugged her tightly. “That was outstanding! You have a true gift, beta!” Said both the

teachers in chorus.

An hour later, Ketki was still processing the events of that morning when Manisha and

her clout surrounded her. “Not her! She won’t let me enjoy my two minutes of

happiness.” Ketki said to herself.

Manisha was the first to speak, “Ketki, what a surprise! Our house is leading on the

scoreboard thanks to your speech.” At this the other classmates jostled their way in and

broke up the girl gang before Ketki even had the chance to respond to Manisha. Ketki

would remember the scowl on Manisha’s face when she got pushed back and out.

When her parents returned from work that evening, they sensed the vibe in the house

was different. “Ketki is everything OK?” her mother inquired while unloading the

groceries in the kitchen. Worried at the lack of response from Ketki, her mom rushed

into her room only to find Ketki at her desk immersed in homework as usual. Her mom

spoke again, “Ketki, are you OK? What’s wrong?” pleaded her. Just then her dad also

joined her mom at the door. Ketki swiveled in her chair and flashed a lively smile at her

mom, one her parents hadn’t seen in a long time. Then she said, “Guess who is the

popular one in class now?”

By Anuya Ulpe Mahajan