Mean Girls

Reunions were as a matter of fact one of the most awkward social situations. They were a bittersweet hashing of old friendships that did not stand the test of time and hilarious confusion over rivalries and enmity that in the light of life experiences, seemed petty. The coming together of people that are so familiar and yet strangers in ways that cannot be eloquently described. Reunions were also opportunities for ostentatious showing off, the closet attention seekers prowling for prey in the open. Quite people standing towards the walls, trying to be inconspicuous while simultaneously scanning the crowds for a familiar face. Or a friendly one.

Reunions were as a matter of fact dangerous waters.

But Anjana never backed down from a challenge. It was her one habit that didn't change even after life handed her bad cards. She was a fighter and if anything, her struggles had only made her a stronger one. Nothing fazed Anajana. Except Vikram.

School crush, ex-boyfriend and the one that got away.

Would he remember her? she wondered, as she adjusted the pallu of her white sequinced saree. White was her favorite color as also the one that flattered her coloring. But she hated saris. Anything that made walking a pain was fundamentally wrong.

Vanity though was an old friend who refused to leave her alone. "Lets face it," she told her mother, "reunions are all about comparing your successes against others. Plus to show up looking like 'da bomb' and making everyone else wonder if you have a plastic surgeon husband," she finished on a grin.

Her mother grinned in return, and continued twining the sari around her hips.

"Anajana?" came a soft inquiry from behind her. The voice was familiar. She turned and came face to face with her long time nemesis.

"Rishika?" she asked, vary and yet in a way glad to have spotted atleast one known face. Even if it was the face that often mocked her about her unibrow. The old annoyance tried to raise its head, but Anjana knew that there were a good two inches between her brows and that she looked pretty. The same could not be said for Rishika.

Life showed differently on everybody. Some people matured in the head, others in the face. Rishika was clearly the later.

A smile, catty for sure, lit up Anjana's face. "My god! How long has it been?"

Rishika smiled in return, her smile more sincere. "Fifteen years," she said softly.

"Right." They both studied each other and then stood there for a while.

"Reunions are the most awkward social situations," Anjana mumbled.

Amusement lit Rishika's eyes. "I know. I was skeptical about coming here."

"How come?"

"Well," Rishika nabbed a glass of punch from a passing waiter and took a sip, "I didn't make a lot of friends while we were in school. I'm pretty sure I was one of those girls who was mean to everybody."

Anjana stifled a snort. "You think?"

Rishika reared back, as if slapped. Pain and remorse made an interesting combination on her face. "Its not like you were a saint," she said snidely.

Anjana raised her eyebrows, "I was mean?" she crossed her arms, "To whom?"

"To me!" Rishika shouted.

"What?" Anjana hissed. "And keep your voice down."

"Yeah. You called me a spoilt little daddy's girl."

"Well you were one!" Anjana affirmed.

"And you had a unibrow!"

They both took a step back, heartbeats fast, anger coloring their faces.

"Anjana? Rishika?"

They turned together, two women united in their hatred for each other. And their affection for one man.

"Vikram," they both breathed. The name left their lips at the same time, identical expressions on both faces. Of shock and not a little bit of confusion.

As girls of fourteen, experiencing their first rushes of hormones, Vikram had been the bone they fought over. His towering presence, his wavy hair and dimpled charm, a beacon to two girls who hated each other.

But the women were different. The women had been taught lessons about other things. About integrity and struggle and betrayal and friendship.

And suddenly the man held no sway.

"Excuse me," Rishika said, walking away.

Anjana turned slightly, watching the retreating back of a girl who tormented her. And who she tormented, apparently. All of it over a boy, who was cute, but clearly not really interested in anything but the attention. They'd been dating him at the same time. He was responsible for making the situation a bad one.

But they scratched the eyes of each other. Like a pair of cats.

Anjana shook her head in sadness, a smile titling the corners of her lips. "Good to see you Vikam," she said, suddenly free of a string that had stretched for so long that it finally snapped. "I'll see you around."

She hurried towards the girls bathroom. That was where Rishika had gone. She barged in, the door crashing against the wall. Rishika looked up from the basin, her expression confused.

"I did have a unibrow," Anjana announced. The other woman in the bathroom giggled. Anjana ignored her.

Rishika's eyes studied her for a moment. "I was a spoilt daddy's girl," she said, her voice soft.

"We were idiots," Anjana said, rolling her eyes.

"Agreed." Rishika studied her face, before pulling out a pink lipstick. "White is so not your color," she said, an amused smile stretching her lips.

Anjana chuckled. She knew she looked gorgeous in white. "You need to go see a plastic surgeon."

Rishika gasped. "You bitch!"

And then they laughed. Together.

And the other woman eyed them in suspicion, before beating a hasty retreat.