She caught me staring at her.

I immediately averted my eyes and stared at my scribbled half-bitten literature textbook. I looked up nervously again, and I saw that she was still staring at me. My eyes darted back to my book.

I thought Anya was a very unusual person (her name aside). For starters she had purple streaks in her red hair, which somehow clashed horribly. She had large pale-blue eyes which seemed deep in some reverie all the time. Usually I could figure out a person instantly. This one was just beyond my understanding.

She always spoke coolly, and calmly. There was never a hint of anger, rage, fury, resentment, bitterness or derision in her tone. She said everything very matter-of-factly.

I had spoken to her a fair few times. It had been two months since she had joined my class, and my conversations hadn’t gone beyond, “Hey, can you help me with the math assignment?” or “Would you like a chicken puff?”

She never asked me for anything. She would just agree to help me with my assignment with a soft smile and an “Ed, it’s very simple.”

So there I was, pretending to read my book with fierce devotion. I raised my eyes slightly, and with a start I found her standing right next to me with an amused expression on her face.

“Oh! Hey, Anya.” I said trying to act as if I had not been staring at her for the last twenty minutes.

“Karthik, is there something you want to talk about? You’ve been staring at me for the last twenty minutes.” She said with a slight smile.

Oh, curse my non-existent subtlety.

“Um no, of course not. I was staring…randomly into space. Could you help me with this essay?” my words came out in a rush.

Bad excuse, I thought.

“What essay?” She asked, taking the chair in front of me.

“The one on ‘Violence in Nursery Rhymes.’” I said saying the first thing, which came into my mind.

Anya raised her eyebrow and said,

“Um, Karthik…that was due weeks ago. Didn’t you submit it?”

“Yeah I did….I forgot.”

There was a silence. I didn’t dare look up. Thankfully, one of my friends broke in.

“Karthik! What the hell are you sitting here for? There’s a match going on! The eleventh graders versus the twelfth graders! Come on, don’t be a freakish nerd. And hey what’s up Purple Streaks!”

See, that’s how people referred to Anya.

“Nothing much, Jay.” Anya said quietly and moved away.

I nodded hastily and walked off with Jay. I looked back in time to see Anya giving me a small wave. I smiled back.

The match proved to be a terrible bore. The eleventh graders couldn’t play to save their lives. I got tired of screaming and cheering them on, and decided to head back to the class to get some water.

As soon as I entered the classroom, I saw Anya sitting near the window. What struck me was that she seemed to be absolutely lost…as if she was in a world where only she existed.

“Hey what’s up?” I said abruptly.

She gave a start and turned towards me.

“Not a good match?” She said with a little chuckle.

“Our eleventh graders can’t play at all. They play like a pack of squirrels-wherever the ball goes, all eleven of them run after it. It’s disgusting.”

She said nothing. Feeling slightly disconcerted, I asked.

“What are you doing in an empty classroom? Don’t you ever want to come out?” I said. (A tad aggressively, I have to admit.)

“And do what? Play football? Try to make friends with the girls of this class? Sing in the choir? No thank you, I’m happy here.”

I was irritated.

“Well, if you insist on sitting in your solitary confinement. And the girls of our class are strange, but not bad people. You could try talking to them.”

“I like strange. But not their type of strange.”

Okay this conversation was getting nowhere.

“I think you’re weird.” I said flatly.

“I think you are weird. You desperately try to fit in this class, you go and watch matches when you don’t want to, and you try and listen to the same music as they do, just to make a place for yourself. You get dragged off for all their pranks and stunts when actually you would just like to sit in one place and read. Has anyone ever told you this?”

Her words were soft, but yet so clear. I had never been more stunned in my life. I clenched and unclenched my fists. To save my ego, I said,

“Why don’t you go back to your non-existent world and continue your brooding? I have got other things to do, rather than sit here and waste time talking to an airhead like you.”

I was shocked at myself for saying that. I had never ever said something like this before.

Her eyes turned misty. She then said with a note of derision in her voice,

“You are just going to be one of those people who’ll fade away and no one will ever remember you- a person who is just part of the crowd. And I don’t want it to ever be known that I was seen talking to a person like that.”

With that polite reply, she turned on her heel and closed the door quietly.

“Karthik, why does your face look like a thundercloud?” my little sister Divya asked me.

“Oh leave me alone.” I snapped.

“Karthik, watch it.” My father said sharply.

“Not well?” my mother asked concerned.

“Oh for god sake all of you!” I said angrily.

I slammed the plate down and walked off to my room and slammed the door. I had never been this furious and livid before.

Anya knew nothing.

She was just an airhead, a plastic doll with pathetic purple streaks.

She had no right to judge me, and I was going to make it very clear to her.

One of those people who’ll fade away, really now!

The whole disturbing exchange flashed in front of my eyes.

I was going to tell Anya what I thought of her.

I took out bag and found the sheet of paper, which contained all my classmates’ addresses and phone numbers. This reminded me that I had to submit this to my class teacher as soon as possible.

“What an address.” I said in disgust. “A-76, Park Street, Calcutta.”

It was raining heavily, and Park Street was absolutely flooded. I waded across the water and finally reached her house. Of course, Anya’s house had to stand out. It was a purple colour. I shuddered in repulsion.

There seemed to be only one floor.

I rapped on the door as hard I could.

There was no response.

And yet the window was open.

Well Anya, people who fade away don’t climb through windows do they? I thought savagely. I squeezed in through the window, and fell and hit the hard wooden floor.

I fumbled all around for lights, and I couldn’t find any.

“ANYA! It’s me, Karthik! Come out here now!” I yelled hoarsely.

The silence was nerve-wracking.

I heard a faint song coming from somewhere.

You've got to learn a little,

Bruise a little,

And always have to pose a little,

That’s the story of, that's the glory of love.

My rage and bravado was beginning to melt away, only to be replaced by a slight sense of eeriness.

“Anya, it’s me Karthik.” I said less confidently than before.

It’s the glory of love,

It’s the story of love

It’s the glory of love

“Oh god, stop it!” I shouted.

There was silence again.

And then everything happened too fast.

There were suddenly half a dozen people in the room.

Except they weren’t real.

They were faded white projections moving around and having conversations, which were too fast to understand.

It’s the glory of love

It’s the story of love

“Anya is the best friend I could ever have!”

“She is the daughter I’ve always wanted.”

“Such a good child, isn’t she?”

“Oh what a perfect student!”

And there Anya was herself.

Laughing. Like never before.

I was sweating profusely now. The song was coinciding with the conversations. I stepped back and ran towards the window. It was fastened shut. I kicked the window with every ounce of force I had. The glass shattered.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw Anya.

“Get out.” Was all she said.

“Karthik, you look as if you’ve just walked through a tornado.” Roy said concerned.

“Huh…yeah…just exhausted. That’s all.” I said, having no idea of what I was saying.

“Anya female freaked you out?” Jay said laughing.

“No, of course not.” That was the biggest lie.

I waited for the rest of the class to leave so that I could talk to Anya. I made my way across to her through a sea of desks and tables. She didn’t look up, and continued to read her book.

“Anya, I need to talk.” I said curtly.

I couldn’t help feeling a little alarmed.

She didn’t look up. She said,

“You waited for the class to leave to talk to me, so you wouldn’t have to face any embarrassment.”

“I’m not in the mood for your expert analysis. I’ve come to talk about yesterday.”

Her placid expression didn’t change.

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“What was all that? What…are you?”

“Normal like the rest of you.” She said a trifle sharply.

“Not after what I saw yesterday.” I replied.

“Why did you come yesterday anyway?” She said writing something in her notebook.

“To tell you that you had no right to judge me. Anyway that’s not the point now. I’m asking for the last time, what was all that?”

Anya finally got up, her eyes blazing.

“Why don’t you take a hint that I don’t want to answer your questions? Who are you to question me on anything with such authority? Are you part of my family, boyfriend, friend, or guardian? No you’re not. You will never be, either. You were right, I’m weird. And I’m weirder than you would ever know. You stay out of my life, I stay out of yours! And as for you coming all the way to my place to tell me that I had no right to judge you, you came to soothe your ego. Because you know what I said yesterday was right!” She paused to take a breath.

“I don’t even care now. You’re right- you never will have friends, because it’s not only because you’re weird, it’s because you’re some psychotic crazy being who is unfortunately stuck in this world, when for Christ’s sake she belongs in some abnormal twisted planet where more insane people like her exist!” I said, my fury getting the better of me.

That seemed to hit her hard. Her eyes watered and the fire went out of her.

I felt horrid for saying that. I wasn’t going to take it back though. She had pushed me over the line.

Though I really shouldn’t have said all that. I had started it yesterday with the ‘You’re weird.”

I bit my lip and slammed the classroom door shut.

I couldn’t sleep all night.

The next day, things took a different turn.

I wanted to apologize to Anya, but I just couldn’t. She was right, I had too much of an ego to apologize. And she was right about everything she said. I had to admit it to myself.

I avoided looking at her as much as possible, but still that didn’t help. I couldn’t concentrate on anything.

I had to apologize. I had to.

I tried talking to her, but she refused to. She kept away.

School ended, and she left quickly. I decided to follow her, and catch up with her to talk to her.

“ANYA!” I called out, but she hastened her footsteps.

Then all of a sudden, she started walking slowly.

This could have been my chance to catch up with her, but something about the way she was walking struck me. It was slow, casual…in contrast to her fast walking earlier.

I started following her. I realized that ever since I had started talking to Anya, I was doing all sorts of things I had never done. Climbing windows, following, not to mention saying extremely hurtful things.

She didn’t look back once.

She kept walking.

And then I found that I had followed her into a beautiful green field. Now I had never seen this field before. Why would there be such a magnificently pruned field in the middle of a commercial street? And why did the field have stonewalls?

Then she stopped.

A breeze blew by gently.

“Anya! Where is this?” I shouted out.

My voice seemed to echo.

She turned around and her eyes widened with shock. She opened her mouth to reply, when suddenly the stone walls broke into a million pieces. The pieces flew all around wildly and then they targeted her. She started screaming.

For a few seconds, I stared in mind-numbing fear. Then I rushed across the field where she was being attacked by the pieces.

“What is all this!” I yelled and held her hand tightly.

The pieces didn’t seem to touch me.

I put my arm around her shoulder and held her close. The stone pieces instantly vanished. I let go instantly.

Her face was streaked with tears and blood and she sat down on the grass.

I took out a handkerchief and dabbed her face with it. She was shivering violently.

When she had somewhat recovered herself, I asked hoarsely,

“Anya…what are you?”

She said quietly,

“Karthik, I have a distortion of reality and my imagination.”

“What?”

“Ten months ago, my family died in a terrible car accident. What you saw two days ago…were projections….figments of my imagination. Those people you saw were my creations. After they died…I imagined them. I imagined them living, eating…talking to me…the things they would say….I imagined myself with them. That’s why you saw me laughing…that’s how I was with them. That’s the real me. I imagine a best friend saying that I’m her best friend…. something I never had. I never had a best friend. I imagined a teacher saying that I’m a perfect student. Everything you saw…were all projections of my imagination. It’s a world…I have created for myself. A world, which doesn’t exist but a world, I want so desperately.”

I tried saying something, but it was as if I had lost all powers of communication. I finally said,

“So it’s these figments of your parents…people have seen….you’re just oscillating between reality and your imagined world…”

“Yes.”

“So…you live with these projections of your own imagination and creation. You’re otherwise alone at home?” I said trying to get my facts straight.

She smiled sadly and continued as if I hadn’t said anything.

“I should have died with my family. But I couldn’t let Death win. Oh wait, I didn’t tell you how I got this imagination. I refused to die. I refused to succumb to death’s lure. I told Him that I was not going to die. He was livid and angry. How dare I try to defy him? So he sent me back…but with what he thought was a curse. My imagination. He sent me with a terrible imagination. There were times when I imagined the most terrible things…. nights I lay screaming…then I decided to make use of it…you see He also has flaws…and now I use my imagination to make the best of my life. The curse is now my asset. Though sometimes it’s horribly painful. I’ve imagined my life all over again. In the hope that I would fall on my knees and learn to accept death. Well I didn’t. I imagine my family with me.”

Another shock.

“Dead?” was all I managed to say.

She nodded.

“I couldn’t accept death…. even if it meant being with my family. I’m living a false life, with my imagined world and the real world. I get the best of both. I’m happy.” She said it again to convince herself.

“No…you don’t. You get nothing…you’re living a lie, Anya. These creations are figments of your imagination. You’re not happy, no matter how hard you convince yourself. You have a world which doesn’t exist...”

“Death cannot win. I am not going to let go of this world.”

I took her roughly by the shoulders and said,

“Anya hear yourself! Your imagination is torturing you! You are suffering everyday. Why don’t you just accept death, instead of this hideous agony? You want to suffer everyday like this…just to evade death? For ten months you’ve lived like this?”

“It doesn’t feel like torture sometimes. There’s a way to outsmart death.”

“You can’t live like this forever…”

“I’m content this way, Karthik.”

“You’re not. You’re miserable, alone and you need your real family, and real friends.”

“I’ve got them.”

“They don’t exist.” I had to be brutal.

She turned away. I then asked,

“What is this place anyway?”

“Another place I’ve always dreamed about. That stonewall was another temptation for me to accept death. And then you came…and held my hand. That stabilized everything. Sometimes friendship and emotion can be more powerful than anything else. Funny isn’t it? Again my thoughts were meant to torment me…but then your presence changed things. I can’t lose this battle.”

There was silence for a while. Then I broke the silence.

“You said you never had a best friend? Well, I will be.”

She smiled. And I said,

“That’s a promise.”

Then I realized what a wonderful person Anya was.

She had extensive knowledge on each subject, she had a passion for reading, she wrote brilliant poems and essays, and she could argue for hours on end. It was as if I could see the real Anya. When she wasn’t with me, I felt the atmosphere lacked luster, life and colour. It was as if she had always belonged in my life. My parents adored her, and my sister treated her like an elder sister. When I listened to the ceaseless banter between her and my father, I wondered whether it was the same, shy quiet Anya who had come to my class a few months ago. She had an answer for everything.

And I kept my promise. I taught her football, and taught her how to play the guitar. I took her for a rock concert, and I was half-frightened that the screaming crowd would squash her. I didn’t have to worry. She blended in well.

She learnt how to make lemon soufflé, which had been her favourite dish as a child. She tried fixing the electricity in the kitchen, which unfortunately resulted in a terrible fuse and she just about escaping with her life.

There were some things she explained to me too.

“You don’t like the Beatles, do you?” She said looking at me with raised eyebrows.

“No…not much.” I said sheepishly.

“Then why do you listen to it?”

“Just…” I said even more sheepishly.

“Because all your other friends do, isn’t that right?” She smirked.

“Oh, shut up.”

Then she said more seriously,

“I like your musical taste. It’s different. It’s you. You don’t have to go along with everyone else.”

It’s funny how a simple sentence can change you. I stopped listening to Beatles, because I actually detested it.

And then she gave me confidence.

“You are a brilliant artist. How come no one even knows about your sketches?”

“Don’t want them to.” I shrugged.

“You are one person who shouldn’t fade away. You could go places with your sketches.”

And thanks to her, I entered competitions and won them.

Her sixteenth birthday arrived.

I decided to throw a small surprise party for her, with just my parents, and very few friends.

So everything was ready, I had specially ordered her favourite cake, and I bought her a little music box.

I had asked her to come to my place at six.

It was now seven.

“Where is she?” my mother asked slightly impatiently, probably because she was tired of holding Divya away from the cake.

“I don’t know…I told her to be here by six.” I said anxiously.

I tried to avoid the fearful clammy feeling.

“Why don’t you go over to her house then and pick her up?” my father suggested.

I nodded and rushed out of the house.

Where was Anya?

Why wasn’t she here?

She had promised to come early.

Had something happened?

“No, no…stop thinking.” I said trying to put all the disturbing thoughts away.

Had she again succumbed to the figments of her imagination? She had kept them off for a long time now…she had enjoyed the company of real people…oh where was she?

The moment I entered her street, everything around me turned black.

I stumbled upon something.

I yelled out her name, but there was no response.

And then…I saw different scenes playing in front of me. The ghostly shapes had returned.

“Anya, open your gift!” A tall lady with long black hair was saying.

The eleven-year-old girl opened the present. A smile crept across her face.

“She’s turned eleven today, hasn’t she?” another man was saying.

There were many other people in the room, and they were all laughing.

Their laughter rang across.

“It’s a music box!” Anya said in delight.

The song started playing:

you've got to lean a little,

bruise a little,

and always have to pose a little,

that's the story of, that's the glory of love

“Beautiful.” Her mother said softly.

The whole room was lit and decorated brightly. Then the whole place started whirling around.

It spun, and it whirled.

The balloons burst, the candles fell and set fire to the room.

It was all in flames.

The scene dissolved quickly.

I saw a burning car.

A girl was screaming loudly and the haunting music box was playing on.

That's the story of, that's the glory of love

Anguished yells all over.

I felt nauseous and faint.

The screams were still resounding in my ears, and I couldn’t get rid of it. It was mixed with the terrible song.

The blackness went away, and I could see dim light again.

And I saw a crying huddled figure sitting on the road. I didn’t have to guess who it was.

“How long have you been tortured with these memories?” I said, my voice barely rising to a whisper.

“Ever since.” She replied quietly.

“And you plan to live this life like this.”

“It’s a small price to pay for being alive.” She said, her pale face resolute.

Then it struck me. And I said it.

“This is not your world, Anya. Go back to where you belong.”

“That’s death.” She said shakily.

“It’s not a bad thing. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“Aren’t you scared of death?” she said quietly.

“Yes, I am. But I won’t run away from it. You are running away from it. I thought I was making you live in the real world. Your world…is not here.”

She got up and looked at me, her eyes round with shock.

“You’re telling me to die.”

“I’m telling you to go where you belong. Face death. It’s not going to be painful.”

“No. I will not die.”

“You can’t live like this.”

She said slowly,

“You are right. This is not my world. I don’t belong here. But I don’t belong there either.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t cheat Death…he’s too powerful. He won’t be defeated, yet he won’t emerge victorious by luring me to him. My mind is the ultimate weapon.”

“I don’t understand…” I said blankly.

She smiled and said,

“When you have an option, fight death.”

And then the surroundings vanished.

I was staring into a beautiful landscape, with hills…a clear river flowing in the middle…and there was sunrise. The ideal world.

“Anya, what is this?”

“My world. That’s how I’ve always imagined it to be. I won’t come back here…ever. I’ve found my place.” She said laughing wildly.

“It’s your imagination…it’s going to make you suffer more!” I yelled.

“No…no. I suffered because I was veering between reality and my imagination. I was given the imagination so that I could plead and beg for death. Ironic how I’ve changed things around. He won’t find me here. No more terrible memories, dreams, thoughts…just peace. Don’t you understand, Karthik? By giving me that curse, He thought I was going to ask for death. But now…I’ve turned the tables on Him. I’ve created this place with my mind, and I’m going there forever. Succumbed completely to my imagination, and He won’t be able to do anything about it. You know why? Because like I said…He won’t find me here. I’m surrendering to my fantasies.”

“Anya, don’t…” I said, my eyes smarting.

She laughed even more wildly, and her hair flew in front of her face.

“My curse is now my blessing. Karthik, come with me.”

For a second, I was all set. If she wasn’t there with me in reality, there was nothing for me.

And then I held myself back. There were still a few things.

“No, Anya.” I said broken.

She just looked at me.

“I’ll come back for you.” She whispered.

And then she was gone.

And I was still standing in the middle of Park Street, clutching her birthday gift, the music box.