By the time we were in class nine, Parth and I had developed a special bond. We would go everywhere together—the small hill, Tiffin Top, Naini Lake and the local market on Mall Road. He started smoking around that time. I asked him not to make a habit of it, but he claimed that it helped him concentrate and study. From talking about our favourite cartoons to rating the girls who passed by, we did all the typical teenage stuff. We didn’t have Internet access in school, so our friends were all the entertainment we had.

Next year, I got an A in English and flunked all the other subjects. During the subsequent PTA meeting, I was told to buck up or I’d be expelled. I would’ve been in a lot of trouble had Parth not helped me get through the final exams.

‘I don’t want to study this crap, Parth. I want to write, that is my dream,’ I said to him one evening on the hill, as he lit a cigarette.

‘Just live life your way, Madhav. You know I’ll always stand by you.’

That year, Parth won the Student of the Year award and a photographer was called to the school for a shoot. We had our batch photo taken that day. Parth and I persuaded the photographer to come with us to the hilltop and had him take a photograph of us with Parth’s trophy.

I still remember the pride and love I felt for him at that moment, at our special place, convinced that he would be there for me forever.

We entered the dreaded class ten in 2001, and had to make our first career choices. Shriya had grown into a gorgeous girl by then. Students from other sections would come to the Boarders’ Lawn to catch a glimpse of her during the break.

One day, after school hours, afternoon tea was being served in the courtyard and everyone was relaxing with their friends. Unless we had art club meetings to rush off to, we just basked in the sunshine.

My literary prowess helped keep me in the school and also made me popular as I started writing for the school magazine.

That day, I was writing something while Parth was cramming history notes. I recited a few lines that I had written about our friendship.

No matter how far or near,

You are always there

Forever in my heart

You will be for years and years . . .

He smiled at me as the sun shone on his face. Before I could complete the poem, I saw Shriya walking towards us. The most beautiful girl in the school came up to me and said, ‘I love your poems, Madhav.’

Parth and I both looked at her and then at each other. Shriya had never spoken to me before, apart from monosyllabic exchanges such as ‘Thanks’ or ‘Hi’. And now, here she was, actually complimenting me! Everyone sought her out but she was rather picky about her friends. I’d been wanting to talk to her for years, as had Parth, I was sure.