📷Cartoon By Anika Sachdeva
Last year, my friend and I were committing some harmless pranks. A simple trick, really —if we saw a pair of people walking, we would cut in between them and run past as if we were being chased—just plain fun. All we’d get were some confused stares or raised eyebrows.
Until we’d done it to the wrong people. They were senior to us, clad in branded clothes, eyes rimmed with eyeliner, hips swaying as they walked. My friend and I executed our prank, laughing all the while, when one of them stopped us by cursing rudely, and questioning why we’d done what we’d done. They began to yell and cuss at us.
I grasped my friends hand and bolted, in a show of cowardice. But in reality, I was just pissed. I ran because I was with my friend, and I didn’t want either of us to be part of a feud. I believe that the best way to solve a problem is to avoid it, and don’t be part of it. That didn’t work; the same day, at noon, they pursued us again. They screeched several creative yet unprintable words, a few whose connotations I didn’t even know—but all sounded vulgar. They began to shove us. They pushed my friend and I on the shoulder, sending us stumbling into a backpaddle. My friend and I got mad. We began to reciprocate.
See, I, too have an ego.
I hold some pride while I speak.
I hold some dignity while I walk.
Usually, I would’ve sat silently, glaring daggers at them, but I can’t sit idle while my friend and I are being barked at and pushed around. So I shouted back. I didn’t use strong curses, but I did yell really loudly—loud enough that people’s heads turned. I roared, “Can you just SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP?”
It had the desired effect—they shut up momentarily—only because my voice was thunderous. For the second time that day, I turned on my heel and stormed off, stomping and muttering. Fortunately, they didn’t know my name or class. My friend wasn’t that lucky. She was followed. They came in groups, calling on their own friends and other sidekicks, and swarmed up to outnumber my friend. My friend and I wore hoodies for the next few days, so as to not be seen. We stuck to the library during lunch break, and stayed in our classrooms during short break. When we spotted them coming our way, we’d slip into some room.
I hated running and hiding, but I followed my belief of avoiding issues. It was what kept us safe from the obnoxious seniors. Soon, all the heat simmered down. But it left me with a new impression of my seniors.
I always knew our school was racked with a bunch of mean kids and bullies; hence the numerous workshops. But that an entire problem would start because we cut through a pair of people for unoffending fun? Sure, it was partly our fault, that we picked a prank with the wrong people—or that we even did a prank—but it seems futile that they had to start cursing and shouting just because of the fact that we walked past them—it was as if we stomped on their egos (as if our feet could reach that high), or committed some sort of crime.
It made me furious and disturbed, more self-conscious of everything I do or say to people I don’t know. But isn’t this a school—aren’t we unified and not inclined to hold grudges because of petty things? If someone asked me that, I’d laugh on their face. But things need to change, no matter how amusing they may sound.
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