Battle of Balloons

"The angle between the chord and tangent at point of contact is equal to the angle subtended by the chord in the alternate segment", the teacher said underlining the last two words.

Since it was the beginning of the two hour torture these CAT institutes named as quant class, I was paying attention. For two minutes in the silence that prevailed after the teacher bored his eyes into each one of us, I actually checked my email to verify that I was sitting in the right class. After getting confirmation that it was the right class, I looked here and there. Half of the class was paying attention, looking at the board with utmost attention. Those, undoubtedly, would be the science kids. Those who take every problem that the teacher throws in the two hour torture, personally. Until they sort the problem, they won’ just give up.

And then there were others. Others like me. I mean those from the commerce background, who had hated Mathematics. I looked at the other half, which was the half in which i belonged. Guys sitting row in front of me were actually checking the mails to confirm the class.

The teacher resumed the theory, and I resumed doodling in my notebook, my usual habit. It was half an hour later that I stepped out of my doodle world and noticed my work. I was surprised to see color blobs. I sighed. Of course color blobs- holi was near. Holi always brought colorful memories with it. Not color-wise memories, but both happy and sad memories.

Happy because of those I spent with Ankit, and sad because of those I didn’t spend with him.

I still remember our pre-holi holidays….

Another memory…

“Look”, I told Ankit pulling him back by snatching his t-shirt collar, hiding behind the car nearest to us. I crouched down, pulling him with me.

He squinted his eyes, and looked at me irritatingly.
“What is it?” he asked.

“Look at the road. Carefully”, I told him pointing towards the road.

“Oh”, he said looking at me.

Oh. This oh meant a lot at that time. It meant declaration of battle. It meant that the enemy had openly challenged us. It meant that now the road was not safe.

We could see the signs of the battle clearly. The road was littered with colorful balloons, or whatever was left of them. Holi usually meant neighborhood battles. Battles where water balloons and pichkaris were our arms and ammunitions. Gulal came later.

“What should we do now? Should we take the longer road?” he asked hesitatingly. We looked at each other’s faces. The enemy knew that we are in the territory. Taking a detour would be equivalent to accepting defeat. There was a moment of uncertainty.
“No”. The determination in my voice made Ankit look at the road, estimating the distance to be covered and the possible battle points.

We nodded at each other, mentally mapping out our escape route.
“8”, he said.
“Hmm…” That was the number of cars on the road, which meant our possible refugee points,

“I think it’s better to go red-black-yellow-black-white-golden-silver-white”, he suggested. The colors implied the cars.

“Hmm…and the strike point would be yellow-black and black white”, I added approvingly.

We looked at each other, knowing that once we came out, it would be the point of no return.
We nodded and came out of the car. We were just near the yellow car when the attack began.

The rules were simple. Even if one partner got hit, the other side won.

Once it started we ran towards my home, forgetting all about the strategy we had made. The destination was just half way away. But the escape would be very narrow.

Swoosh! A big balloon swooshed past me head. Narrow escape.
Phew! But just then I saw the green balloon behind my back. I ducked, pulling Ankit along. Saved again.

Just after 2 seconds, we were safe in the balcony of my house. We leaned beside the wall, panting. We looked at each other and high fived-indicating our narrow escape…and then rushed inside to begin our counter attack….

“Nupur, what’s angle DAB?” the teacher asked me, jolting me out of the colorful memories.
“60 degree?” I attempted making a wild guess.

“No”, he said and asked the same question to the girl behind me, signaling me to return back to my childhood.

But holis were not the same once Ankit’s father sent him to UK.

He was supposed to return next month. I wish he would return sooner.

The morning of holi found me helping my younger brother and his friends get ready for the ultimate battle. Another neighborhood battle. I was apprehensive while filling the balloons with water, anxious what I would do if they all started pelting me with the balloons, I myself was filling for them. Kids are kids, and u never know.

And then it hit me. Square in the back. And that too when I was helping these little monsters win the battle.

I turned, adamant to take revenge on whoever did this with me. And to my surprise, it was Ankit, standing with another big balloon in his hand.

“Ready, Lieutenant”, he asked with a playful grin.

I couldn’t believe it was Ankit! What a day to return! All the balloon battles memories became fresh in my mind. How we used to thoroughly enjoy our favorite festival together.

He smiled at me again, knowing and remembering all those times. He winked at me, raising his arm to thrown the balloon at me.

And that was all I needed to start the ultimate battle, this time both of us fighting with each other. But both of us winners this time.