I can’t call her my friend , as she was friendly with everyone . She wouldn’t let the stamp of authority of a group or clique , sully her pristine , free existence . That she didn’t align herself to , or swore allegiance to , a group , made itself felt painfully , on more than one occasion .
Our board exams were round the corner , and teachers were racing with each other to finish the pending syllabus. The dress code for extra classes on weekends would be a bit hazy . On one occasion, everyone arrived in crisp, white , starched uniforms , and she came in a floral T-shirt with a corduroy skirt . She kept sitting at the last bench , smiling at everyone , enjoying every bit of the “sore thumb” appearance .
On other occasion , she finished an assignment , way ahead of everyone , submitted it to the said teacher , a certified terror, and plunged the rest of the class into hot water. No one talked to her for days after that trespass. An unwritten moral code of conduct had been violated , and the class was in no mood to forgive. She was ostracized , no one would talk to her . Any number of apologies , hastily written in chalk on class black board , couldn’t suffice .
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