RECAP Kabir’s little sister is named Kriti, though Kabir wanted to name her Komal. Everyone is happy with the birth of Kriti. Kabir, on the other hand, is feeling left out. He decides to spend his time studying. He had to write a composition on ‘My Best Friend’ as homework of English. But he did not have a friend. He starts imagining having a friend named Mark and starts writing about him. He goes so deep in his imagination that he begins to see Mark as a living being.  CHAPTER 8 As soon as Vimala drew the Venetian blinds, the golden lukewarm sunrays sped into the room to caress Kabir’s face. He woke up rubbing his eyes and found mamma and his little sister sleeping on one side. He turned to the other side and closed his eyes. Suddenly he realised that he just saw someone sitting next to him. He opened his eyes and found Mark smiling at him. “Wake up, sleepyhead! Don’t you have school today?” he patted his cheeks. “Mark!” Kabir got up with a start, “What are you doing here? Please go before someone sees you.” “Don’t worry, pal! I’m your friend. Only you can see me, no one else,” he replied. “Oh really! That’s wonderful,” chirped Kabir. “Yes! Now get up and have a shower. We’ve to go to the school.” “We?” “Yes, my dear! As no one can see me, I can safely accompany you.” “Okay, friend!” Kabir smiled and moved towards the bathroom. Mark followed him. Kabir turned to him and said, “Now would you come in the bathroom as well? Please wait inside till I have a shower.” Mark laughed and let him go in. After the shower, Kabir came out and started getting ready for the school. By now, Sujata had also woken up. She began to help him in his activities. “Oh, look!” exclaimed Mark as he saw her picking up the oil bottle, “Mamma is going to oil you hair. Ask her not to do so. You know, your friends make fun of you because of your sticky hair.” “That’s true. But…” “What but? Okay, tell her politely to use just a little oil so that your hair doesn’t become greasy.” “Mamma! Could you put a lesser amount of oil in my hair? I look like a lallu,” Kabir said to her. Sujata laughed and put just a little oil in his hair. Kabir, now, wore his freshly ironed uniform. Sujata took out a handkerchief from the almirah and started pinning it up on Kabir’s pocket. “Arre! Keep the handkerchief in your pocket. You’re a grown-up child now. Behave like one,” Mark interrupted again. “Yes, yes!” said Kabir, “Mamma! Let me put it in my pocket. I’m not a child.” “Then, what are you? An old grandpa?” Sujata chuckled and stuffed it inside his pocket, “But don’t lose it, huh!” “Good boy!” Mark patted his back, “And don’t wear the ‘tilak’ today. It makes you a butt of laughter among your classmates.” Kabir nodded. Sujata was about to put a ‘tilak’ on his forehead, when he intervened again, “I won’t wear it. You know, mamma, all my friends laugh at me.” “What’s wrong with you, Kabir?” Sujata was a little frustrated now, “You’re denying everything today. Now, why won’t you wear the ‘tilak’?” “My friends ridicule me,” he whined. She mellowed down a little and said, “Okay! I’ll put a very small ‘tika’ on your neck. It will be hardly visible.” Kabir looked at Mark. He smiled as if approving of mamma’s idea. Kabir wore the ‘tika’ on the neck. Shortly after, they both left for the school. **** Kabir entered the classroom and suddenly all eyes turned to him. He looked like a city boy, quite different from his old self. He occupied his seat and found that his bench mate Vinayak had gone back to his friend Armaan. “See, they all hate me. Nobody wants to sit with me,” he said to Mark. “No problem, buddy! What am I here for? We’ll sit together. And, I’ll also help you make friends with them,” Mark answered sitting beside him. Kabir was very happy. Though imaginary, he did have a friend now. However, he himself did not know that this friend was non-existent. He was just a part of his fantasies and make-believe world. Post recess Arpita ma’am, the Art teacher, entered the room. “Hello, children!” she greeted everyone, “Your Mukti ma’am is on leave today. I’ve an arrangement period with you. So what would you like to do now?” “Antakshari…” “Quiz…” “Cricket…” “Storytelling…” “Storytelling sounds good,” said ma’am, “But I won’t tell you a story. I want one of you to come forward and tell a story to the whole class. So who’s gonna come?” At this, kids started murmuring among themselves, many of them thinking of an interesting story. “Kabir! Why don’t you go for it?” Mark urged him. “Me? But I don’t know any story.” “Liar! Don’t you remember Birbal’s Khichri, which papa used to tell you?” “Oh yes! But, will they like it?” “Of course they will,” saying this Mark held his hand and made him raise it. Ma’am looked at him and said, “Here we have our storyteller. Come, my boy!” Kabir came forward and began to narrate the tale. With his expressions and unique way of storytelling, he was able to capture everybody’s attention. Children thoroughly enjoyed the story. When he finished, they reverberated the whole atmosphere with their claps. They liked the story a lot. But some sort of hesitation was still preventing them from speaking to him. Kabir, however, was elated. He now had Mark, his best friend, who had promised to help him gain even more friends. **** He was in high spirits when he came back home. Through with his lunch, Kabir persuaded Mark to play cricket with him. “No! Homework first and play later,” he said. “Alright, dear!” smiled Kabir and started with his homework. Sujata was feeling completely drained today. Kriti had kept her waking the whole night. She was trying to have a short afternoon nap, but her little doll was still wailing. She wanted to be pampered and loved. “Beta, have you finished your homework?” she asked Kabir. “Almost mamma!” he replied with his eyes still glued to his notebook. “Could you please play with your sister for some time? I’m so tired. I want to sleep for a while.” “Why don’t you ask your favourite Aakriti to play with her?” pat came a reply. Helplessly, Sujata picked her up and started rocking her in her arms. “Kabir, this was very bad. I didn’t expect this from a good boy like you,” Mark scolded him. “What did I do?” he asked. “I saw how rudely you spoke to mamma. Is this the way to behave?” he shouted. “But, friend…” Kabir stammered. “Can’t you see how tired she is? And, Kriti is your own sister. What problem do you have in playing with her?” continued Mark. “I’m sorry, yaar!” Kabir felt so ashamed of himself, “I shouldn’t have done so.” “Say sorry to mamma,” he ordered. Kabir turned to her and said, “I’m extremely sorry, mamma. I was really very impolite. Now let me play with Kriti and you catch some sleep.” Sujata smiled and gave him a light kiss on his cheeks. Soon, sleep engulfed her completely. Kabir was now playing with his little sister. He looked at Mark. He too was smiling.                          To be continued…