“And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust!” Saman read aloud from the book.
“Pfft! What a drag,” Zehra muttered under her breath.
“Shhh! Ms Sabahat might hear you,” Fiza warned her. Zehra saw Ms Sabahat eyeing her suspiciously and decided to keep quiet.
Just then the bell rang and it was time for lunch break. When Ms Sabahat was gone, Zehra sighed loudly and said, “To eat or not to eat? That is the question!”
Fiza laughed, “Don’t you mean: ‘To be or not to be’?”
“Yes,” Saman chimed in. “That’s what Shakespeare says. Get your quotes right, Zehra.”
Zehra made a face, “Well, he says a lot of things, most of which he doesn’t need to.”
“Like what?” Fiza asked.
“Like: ‘These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.’ Why not simply say: ‘You make no sense, mister’?”
There was a loud gasp. Everyone turned to look. It was Mahrukh. She was covering her mouth and her wide eyes were fixed at Zehra.
“Be careful,” she said. “You might get the curse.”
“The curse?” Zehra repeated.
“Yes, the curse ... the curse of Shakespeare!” Mahrukh blurted out and made a dramatic exit from the class.
There was a long silence. Zehra looked around, puzzled. “This is a joke, right?” she said finally.
“Y-yes, j-joke. It’s a joke, of course,” Fiza laughed nervously.
“Dearie! I say, dearie!” Zehra faltered. “I has’t a presentation in the next class. Oh! How my heart aches — like a wretched rose crushed beneath the weight of despair — scared of how this story wilt unfold!”
“Okay then. Let’s grab something to eat — maybe a samosa? Or is it to you ‘a candescence of dust’?” Zehra chuckled at her own joke.
Saman adjusted her glasses, “Quintessence, you mean?”
Zehra rolled her eyes and went out of the class. When she was gone, Fiza whispered, “Do you think we should tell her?”
Saman shook her head, “No, let’s just hope for the best.”
Fiza thought she saw a hint of smile on Saman’s face. But it was probably just her imagination.
“Are you two coming or not?” Zehra called from outside.
“Coming!” Fiza shouted back and they made their way to the canteen.
Zehra had just gotten in the queue when a girl shoved her from behind. She turned around furiously and scolded, “Wither your manners be, young lady?”
The girl looked at her, confused. Zehra looked back at the girl, even more confused. What had just happened?
When she came back, she told her friends about the incident. Fiza and Saman exchanged glances.
“It’s probably nothing, Zehra,” Saman said quickly.
“Yeh, I guess. Perchance, you art stating the truth; coughing up bits of honesty all ov’r this feeble face of mine ....” Zehra stopped short. “Fie! Fie!” she cried. “Holp!”
“What is she even saying?” Fiza asked, worried. “She’s saying: Oh no! Help!” Saman told her.
Fiza started biting her nails. “It’s that curse! And it’s getting worse.”
“Dearie! I say, dearie!” Zehra faltered. “I has’t a presentation in the next class. Oh! How my heart aches — like a wretched rose crushed beneath the weight of despair — scared of how this story wilt unfold!”
“Okay, okay. Relax.” Saman said. “Maybe you can still do it. What’s your topic?”
“Photosynthesis,” Fiza offered. “Why don’t you try rehearsing it?”
“Well now,” Zehra cleared her throat. “Photosynthesis takes place in the cells of leaves. Inside these cells beeth structures little, called chloroplasts. Though they be but little, they are fierce! Standing up defiantly in front of a well-eyed sun, demanding what those gents believeth is theirs!”
Fiza cringed.
Saman bit her lips to keep herself from laughing, “You guys should go to class. I will try to find out if we can break the curse.”
Fiza and Zehra left. Saman joined them soon after. “Well? Make haste!” Zehra said.
“Mahrukh told me something. But I am not sure what it means,” Saman disclosed, “She said that the inverse of a fool can break the curse.”
“A wise person is the inverse of a fool,” Fiza said. “But how do we find a wise person and what will they have to do?”
“Dearie, I myself am the wise person,” Zehra said.
Excitement flashed in Saman’s eyes, “Well, your wise-ness, how did you end up in this situation in the first place?”
Zehra was at a loss of words.
“That’s a bit mean, Saman,” Fiza said.
Saman ignored her and continued, “And remember your presentation will start any minute now. How embarrassing it will be!”
“Aye! Thee art correct,” Zehra’s cheeks flushed, “It be a fault of mine. I am not the wise one, I am the fool. I got myself in this mess.” Zehra started crying.
“There, there!” Fiza patted Zehra on the back. “Hey, wait a minute!” She said, “You are speaking normal now.”
“What? Really? I am? I am!” Zehra said relieved. “How did you break the curse, Saman?”
“I didn’t, Zehra. You did,” Saman explained. “Remember, Shakespeare said: A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.”
“When you realised your foolishness, you became wiser! You are now the inverse of a fool and that’s how you broke the curse.”
Just then, their science teacher entered the class.
“Zehra,” she said solemnly. “It be thy turn for presentation.”
Published in Dawn, Young World, April 7th, 2018
