The Indian girl’s story continues (Part 4)…

I wrote this story about the Indian girl who’s going to get married against her wishes. And it was really well-received. So I am continuing on the story. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here.
I walked into class, and my teacher looked up right away. I was a bit late, and he was perceptibly annoyed.
“Kashni! Thank God. You are here. I thought I would have to start the exam without my star student. Now that you are here, sit down, and let’s get started.”
I could see all the guys in class pointing daggers at me. I guess, he had held up the exam for me.
I had tears in my heart, but I wouldn’t let anyone see them.
I made my face sterner than it normally is, sat down, and plunged into the paper right away. It was an easy exam, because the subject was easy to me. But also because it was my last exam, I savoured the answers, and the act of putting down the answers on paper even more. I loved the idea of calculus — a subject that was pretty much useless in the big scheme of things, but so useful when you imagine that it forms the foundation of everything that we build.
The reality is that even though most women go into the medical field in India, if they can afford to go to university, or they are allowed to, I would have loved to become a Calculus professor. The main reason being I want to show the world, but more specifically teenage girls, that calculus is fun, and it is easy, even if you are female. I would have to go get a Ph.D. for that, which is an impossibility right now considering I can barely get a Bachelors.
My last exam. My last exam. My last exam.
I kept on repeating these words in my head. I knew the results of this exam don’t matter. My teacher knows about my circumstance, and so he’s already promised to send me the results of this exam, and the exam papers, so I can remember the good times. I looked up at him, and he gave me a thumbs-up. He was looking around at all the students, most of whom were looking stressed out and annoyed.
I had been finished with my paper for the past 30 minutes. But I didn’t want to leave.
There was nothing for me to go to. If I go back home, I would have to help my mother with my wedding dress or with some other wedding preparations. I wanted to stay in this cocoon for as long as I could. The sounds of graphite pencils scratching against papers was soothing to me like no other sound could be.
“30 minutes left.” The teacher piped up.
At that, the students in the room started writing even more fervently, with extra vigour. I heard a few of them groaning, that it wasn’t enough time. Yet others looked around as if they had given up on life, and on the paper itself.
Everyone else was probably waiting for these 30 minutes to end, so they could go and enjoy their summer vacation. They were excited for the rest of their life. Whereas for me, the ringing of this final bell of the final day of this school year would mean something completely different. It would mean the end of my life as I know it. Having heard horror stories of in-laws and how they treat lower caste daughter-in-laws, especially ones who don’t bring in a lot of dowry, I had an internal shiver run up my spine. I was not looking forward to my wedding life at all. I would rather write a hundred more Calculus exams. Hell, I would rather write a hundred more Chemistry exams, which is my first worst subject.
The bell rang.
30 minutes had passed by faster than I imagined. I collected some of the exam papers along with some other students, and handed them over to the teacher in the front.
Everyone filed off, moving as fast as they could. I saw Malin in the crowds walking away. He looked at me in a way that said, “Meet me at our usual spot.”
I bowed to the teacher, and told him of my gratitude.
He nodded.
There was nothing he could do about my situation and there was nothing I could do about it. He knew of my dreams to become a Calculus professor. He could have gotten me a scholarship to a good university, if he tried. But there was no point. Where would I live? How would I pay for all of my expenses?
We parted ways.
I could see tears in his eyes when I turned slightly to look at him one more time. He represented all of my lost dreams and opportunities.
I walked out of the school doors, and turned left. None of the other students had remained for long. They were all walking away in different directions, either in pairs, or by themselves. I could hear some of them chatting about the exam questions, and wondering if they answered this question or that question right. I knew I had gotten a perfect 100 in this exam. Mostly I doubt myself after an exam, knowing that I screwed up one or two questions. But this time around, in my joy of being able to write this exam, and the sorrow of this being the last one, I was crystal clear in my thinking process. I knew the answers and I knew I had them all right.
One of the students who was wondering about the question turned to look at me and asked me, “Kashni, do you know what the right answer was for question 13. It went like this…”
“13.” I said simply. “The answer was 13.”
“Oh damn, I got that one wrong. Thanks!” He waved goodbye, and I wondered to myself, I could have said any number at this point and he would have accepted it as absolutely accurate, because it’s me answering. What an interesting world we live in.
I turned towards the park near our school, the only patch of green for miles to come. I saw Malin standing there by the fountains which were dry right now, drought season having taken its final victim.
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