Laurel and Hardy

I was 40 she was 56, not in terms of age but in kilos and so we bore the title Laurel and hardy. We were in second standard and it was one of those unusual recess when I found her running away from the mocking crowd of classmates following her everywhere. She was looking for space where she can eat in peace. I didn’t join the laughing jerks since bullying wasn’t in my genes nor did bother to find the reason why did they choose her? I cared to finish my meal instead and enjoy my merry-go-round rides. It was after the recess when I got to know the teacher had placed a paper on her back labeling her the fat, talkative girl in her unawareness. Was it a fix??!!

The teacher will rot in hell, I cursed.

I pitied her that day and this pity got us closer in class five. Earlier I loved being referred to as Laurel and hardy since they were my fave TV characters but as we start growing up I found it turning sarcastic. She was still the fat, unimportant, laid back and weak classmate. And people will judge me on her basis too. No matter how much I yell I scored 72 in Geography it never bettered our image. She was still known as the talkative girl and one day I got this tag too.

I start cutting off from her very later in class ninth when our batch got more laughing stock that she got a boyfriend too.

‘The guy must be fatso too’

‘Hail to their upcoming gen’ they will talk.

I made new friends. She noticed my new transform and will skip from one group to another for a companion during the recess period. Back at home I was never free from guilt. It continued for weeks when she fumed, ‘why are you not talking to me? And if you don’t want to then tell me straight’. I switched my bench partner and she choose the back bench all alone.

Summer was in bloom with sports day selection in full course. The first selection was for tug- o- war. Thin girls showed off their slim waist backing off with pride that this selection is for fatsos and they are better for beauty pageant. In the utmost silence, someone marched ahead. She was my Hardy!! As she thumped proudly on the weighting machine with teachers and students surrounding her, waiting for another show on comedy central I prayed, ‘god, no mocking on her weight’. The needle raced to 56 and I shut my eyes tight in embarrassment.
‘You are selected’, the teacher pronounced.
My eyes and ears wide open to see her name getting pen down as an important candidate. All the fat girls from the entire senior batch got recognition today and I could not stop wondering weights can matter too.

Now every day when her name was called upon for the practice, it infused me with thousand smiles to see her getting noticed. But we never talked and she didn't cared.

The sports day came and to hell with my pyramid balance I was more interested to see the tug- o- war. When it began I could see my matriarch Hardy walking along with her glowing yellow house team in war against the red team. I start biting my nails when I saw the opposing team’s leader who was no less than 70 kilos of cellulite. For the time once again i am thinking good for my Hardy.

The red handkerchief went down and the rope went to and fro with full exertion. The red house had two falls till now but this wasn't helping me since my friend is getting hurt and in no instant I will start crying. ‘Buck up, Vaishali!!!’ someone yelled from behind. It was my classmate. Very soon the others joined, ‘ Vaishali! Vaishali!’ I looked around are they really calling out for Vaishali??

There was no cheering for the yellow house, not for the Hardy but the long lost embarrassing name Vaishali!! I sprang on my feet and screamed on top of my lungs with awe and pride, ‘that’s my friend Vaishali!!!’

Yellow house declared the winner. The bruises on my friend's hand gone and healed and after tremendous amount of sorrys our friendship won!