I trembled a little. Fuck, why was the office so small? There was no way I couldn’t make an eye contact with her. Oh, I can always look down at my shoes. Cool, lemme try that.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Fuck, clearly, that didn’t help.

I looked up and was greeted by the co-ordinator’s angry, red face. 

“Sorry ma’am,” I said meekly.

“Hehehehe…”

I looked to my right and saw my best friend trying his level best to suppress a giggle. I just couldn’t believe his guts. This asshole was the reason why we were standing here in the first place. 

“Both of you need to call your parents tomorrow,” the co-ordinator fumed. 

My face turned white. “Ma’am please! It won’t happen the next time!” I pleaded.

“Yes. And I’ll make sure it doesn’t,” she concluded calmly. “Go back to your classes now. I want your parents here at 10:00 am tomorrow.”

We both started our walk of shame back to our classes. 

“You asshole! I’d told you bunking classes wasn’t a good idea. Lag gayi na ab?” I screamed at my friend as soon as we came out of the office.

“But bro, even I had no idea that uss din Arora sir ka bhi off hoga.”

“Really! And wasn’t it your idea to go to a mall literally 500 metres from the school?”

“Yaar but mujhe kya pata tha ki Arora sir ussi mall mein ussi waqt honge!”

“Fuck off dude! Don’t ever talk to me again! My parents will probably kill me now!”

That was 10 years back. Our parents did go to meet the co-ordinator and yes, they did give me a tough time for it later at home but I didn’t stop talking to my best friend.

On the contrary, this became just one of the many memories we now fondly talk about over a round of drinks. He didn’t stop making my life miserable after that mishap but here I am. Making new memories with him with each passing day.

Which also makes me question my sanity at times. Why the fuck am I friends with someone who, more often than not, takes genuine pride in making my life difficult. 

Is it because I’m a good person who believes in giving people another chance? 

Is it because I have nobody else to talk to? 

Or is it because we both know too many of each other’s secrets to let go?

Well, no, no and no.

I think it’s simply because no matter how reckless or fucked up my best friend was, he is responsible for giving me some of the most endearing memories of my life. 

He’s the one who has given me a sense of completion about my teenage years.

That yes, that time was well spent.

Yes, he did make my life miserable at times, but he also made sure that it was only he who did so. Anybody else who tried to do so, would have to deal with this haraami friend of mine. His actions might’ve been assholic at times, but his sentiments never were. 

Which is probably why even though I could see his grand plans could land us into trouble, I never questioned them. 

For I knew that amongst the two of us, he was the one charting out adventures for our lives lest it became too mundane.

Lest we looked back as adults and regretted not doing a million things.

Yes, my best friend is a haraami of the highest order. But I still love him. And I always will.