Intense Desires...

I Wanted One, But I Wasn’t Suffering Without One...

October 2001,

I decided to try something new. JR Journal, the school newspaper, was looking for 10th-grade reporters. I knew I'd obtain my English teacher's approval, so I went to speak with Ms. Gurmeet Kaur, the faculty advisor. She was a high school English teacher who volunteered to cover the junior high newspaper. She requested writing samples, which I sent in the form of a couple of English class essays and my first-quarter history research report on the Colonial Era. She asked a few more questions before promising to get back to me. I was hoping to get in. It would give me something to do after school three days a week. I wouldn't need to return home as early as I usually go. And in some ways, that was a good thing.

A few days later, Ms. Kaur approached me as I was walking to homeroom and informed me that I had been accepted. If I am able, I will attend the meeting that evening; otherwise, I will attend on Monday. My mom agreed to pick me up when I informed her I might remain after school. When the day's dismissal bell rang, I went to the classroom where all of the layout desks and equipment were set up. Ms. Kaur, along with the rest of the newspaper's "staff," was present. My first task was to write a story about one of my friends, Pradeep Yadav, and his two brothers, all of whom were football players. Alok and Ravi were his younger twins.

Interviewing them and the coaches took roughly a week, as did writing my 600-word story. We were also allowed to make our headlines, and I went with 'The Third Degree.' Yes, it was corny, but that was the JR Journal's way. I turned it in, and it was authorized for publication with my name on the by-line after some minimal editing. Cool. I continued to write pieces, primarily about sports, as it seemed to be my area of expertise.

The Indian cricket team was defeated 3-2 by Australia in a hard-fought one-day series. However, it was a fantastic build-up to the ICC Cricket World Cup in the 50-over format in 2003. New players were arriving and performing. Laxman was picked in the ODI squad based on his test form, and he scored runs and nice runs. The series was determined by the series' last game, which ultimately went to Australia. Sachin made some important runs and a century, but India was still trailing in the middle overs and the Indian death overs bowling was not up to par. Nevertheless, for Indian Captain Ganguly and the entire Indian team, it was a fantastic learning experience. Playing against the greatest helps you become the best. It's not about winning or losing, but about the journey from rookie to legend.

The inter-school volleyball season was in full swing, and I made it a point to attend all of their games in search of stories. Yamini was a fantastic story, so I didn't have to look very hard. After a brief interview with her and a brief conversation with Ms. Joshi, the girl's volleyball team's coach (of whom I had no prior knowledge), the story was completed. "A London girl is competing for the position of new volleyball school captain." Ms. Kaur was about to veto it, but when I told her that Yamini approved, she agreed to let me use it. They even featured a photo of her in her volleyball gear. I was allowed to keep the original by our photographer. For the rest of the year, I kept that photo in my notepad.

In November of 2001,

Our school's custodian was about to retire. Ms. Kaur had requested that I write a 300-word piece about him. She thought I should tackle this one because my sports' 'human interest' style had been highly appreciated. They were going to miss the custodian, who had been there for 30 years. I wrote the piece and coined the most famous headline of my brief media career: "You Were, You Are Our Hero, Mr. Shrivastava." Yeah, it's wackier than ever.

Yamini's volleyball season was over, and she now had more free time. After school, Ritvik, Yamini, and I started hanging out at her house. I met Mrs. Deshpandey, her host mother, and Kamini, her "host sister," a seventeen-year-old fox. We had a lot of fun playing hearts, chatting, and just hanging around.

I had a crush on Yamini, but she never indicated that she was interested in me in that way. She'd laugh at my jokes, call me, and hang out with me, but there was never an opportunity to take things further, even to a date-going out with Ritvik in a group was OK, but I don't believe we were ever alone together. And I had the impression it was her doing. Despite my frustration, I didn't press the button. Yamini often talked about her family and friends, but never about a special guy. Maybe it was it, and she just didn't want to admit it.

My father accompanied me to my first cricket match, which I was able to observe in person. Sri Lanka was the opponent for the Indian team. It was a low-scoring match. However, the Indian squad managed to come out on top. When India required 5 runs off the last two balls with two wickets in hand, my heart almost stopped. Yuvraj Singh was on strike and lofted a ball from Chaminda Vaas into the air, but Sanath Jayasuriya caught him inches above the ground at deep midwicket. The next batsman, Zaheer Khan, came on to strike the next ball and despatched the ball into the stands for six runs. Fortunately, my first visit to a cricket stadium resulted in India's victory. I was hoping for additional games. The next time, I'd much rather watch alongside my buddies Ritvik and Yamini.

In December of 2001,

Ritvik, Yamini, and I were at his place on Christmas Eve to exchange gifts. To keep things cool between us, we had to set a limit. Ritvik got a chess book, and Yamini got a cheap but cute necklace with a "Y" on it and two small pieces of something that looked like diamonds but weren't. Ritvik gave me a collection of comic books, which I adore and have wanted for a long time. Yamini handed me a diary to write in, a personal diary, which was a new experience for me because I was used to writing for the school journal but had never considered writing on my own. Ritvik had the same response from her, and he presented her with a book on Delhi (detailing the historic events that occurred in Delhi, as well as gorgeous photographs of monuments and some artistic images. I adored that book and was a little envious.) We had a wonderful time at our own Christmas party.

Christmas, without a doubt, is not one of our festivals, or, more broadly, it is not recognized in our society. However, I spent the majority of my schooling at missionaries' schools. As a result, it simply became a part of us, and we have no idea when it happened. And I'm very sure it has happened to the majority of families in our generation.

My Christmas came and went, and I received a plethora of gifts (my parents' primary expression of appreciation was the pile of gifts I received at Christmas). I spent time with Ritvik and Yamini, played chess at Sourav's house, read, went to the movies, and did everything else a typical fifteen-year-old does. I didn't have a girlfriend at the time, but that didn't worry me. “I Wanted One, But I Wasn’t Suffering Without One.”