This morning driving along, belting out the soundtrack from Moulin Rouge, I was wondering what to post today. Would it be down memory lane again? Or just a general post to update you on my life?
So I figured I'd do a bit of both, I'm feeling a little lazy anyway, not in the mood for long structured posts.
In yesterday's comments, you might have noticed an anonymous comment by someone called Ash. Ash/Ashi was my closest friend at boarding school. (Yes, I went to boarding school. No, not for very long, just two years). We did everything together. We both liked acting and often competed against each other in inter-house competetions (one year, she won, one year I won), we liked to sing and joined the choir, we liked to write and joined the school magazine... you get the picture.
So last I heard from Ashi, before I discovered her blog, she was singing. And the last she heard from me before she discovered my blog was that I was writing. It's wierd in a good way that we both wound up doing exactly what we wanted to.
We didn't always get on, Ash and I. I remember huge screaming fests we had across rows of shocked schoolgirls. We were both from big cities, new to the rather rarified atmosphere of boarding school, so we didn't really get it when other girls said "Fish" instead of "Fuck" and looked at us reproachfully when we dared to use a "bad word". And we were so very alike that it was hard not be at loggerheads at times.
I remember sitting during prep, which was supposed to be time to study before dinner, and exchanging long reams of notes. It was hard not to giggle under the strict eye of the prefect who always took her job so damn seriously.
Our boarding school was co-ed, and beautiful, up in the Nilgiri Hills with lots of tempting lovers lanes (which were out-of-bounds) which beckoned to us. And we had our share of love. It's hard not to love when you study in a place called Lovedale for Christ's sake! (A-ha, I can see the Indians among you quickly making a connection!)
There was this one boy S., who was so purty. He had an eight-pack (pause a minute to drool at the memory) and eyes that crinkled when he smiled and high cheekbones and the sweetest temprament and.... a very possesive girlfriend who watched him like a hawk. But luckily she was a year senior and when she graduated we had S all to ourselves. Ash, in a fit of stupidity, decided to make him her rakhi-brother. (I sense a long explaination is needed so quickly so I can get back to my story: Rakhi is a festival, which by the way was on Monday, where sisters tie coloured threads to their borhter's wrists as a sort of promise that the borhter's will protect them forever. You can also tie a rakhi to someone you think "is just like a brother". The fun part about rakhi, for women anyway, is that you get money! I raked in two grand towards a CD system for my car yesterday!) Anyway, because he was her "rakhi brother" she couldn't harbor any lecherous thoughts towards him, and I could which I did freely. (And Ash, c'mon I know you did too!) He used to send us little notes, very badly written, but hey, he wasn't a writer which we fought over possession of. We also giggled everytime we had an encounter with him. *sigh*.
Ashi and I split ways after class 10, when I went back to Delhi and she changed schools. We try to keep in touch, we really do. We did have a good time though!