"A friend in need is a friend indeed."

Something that we have been hearing since times immemorial. Something by which we attibute a true friend to be. A bar by which a comrade, a dear one is judged. One could not be more wrong.....

Rithish was in class 10, and those were the days of the election of the class representative. It had been almost a rule that the one who leads the class a year, would become so unpopular, that he would invariably fail to get elected the next.

And he, like a true Arian was hell bent on breaking this norm. childish as though it may have seemed to others, there never was nothing more that he wanted, nothing more that he cherished to be, than to lead his class yet again. And hence, one could find him zealously working towards that goal.There never seemed to be a doubt in his mind, nor a thought, that he may have to settle for less, for all seemed to be friendly towards him; encouraging him; assuring him. All, but one.... His closest friend.

"Forgive me, my friend." his friend had said, "I am going to vote for the other. For I beleive, he can be a better leader than you." There was a deathly calm about him when he had said this. His eyes showing the surety of having made the right deision. His words depicting the belief he had had in his deision.

Two days later, Rithish saw himself standing in front of the class, in front of his lecturer holding a boxful of votes, alongwith the three other aspirants. The atmosphere was electric. Or so he felt. With every vote being read out, he heart started quickening. By the time, half of the votes were sorted out, there were clearly only two left in contention. His heart was still racing fast and furious. Would he be crowned yet again? Have the people of his kingdom trusted him enough? Or would he be banished into exile? Those were the thoughts running through his mind.

He was jolted back to his senses with an "Oooooh !!!" that rippled through the class. Someone had been keeping track of the scores, he presumed, for he could hear someone utter. "They are on a tie."

His teacher held the last vote in his hands, and looked mockingly at them. Rithish did not enjoy this one bit. Not one bit. He did not enjoy that pain in his chest. Nor the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. The world was going into a frenzy in his eyes, and the chit in his teacher's eyes was getting hazy. "If he delays anymore, am gonna bite a big chunk off something which he aint gonna like." thought he.

And then slowly, ever so slowly, enticingly, the teacher started opening it. Rithish's heart was beating louder than ever. Damn that school gong !!! He thought.

And then, his mind went blank. He could not hear anything. He just saw his teacher's lips move. That's not how one's lips move when his name is uttered... He did not believe this... Maybe this was all a dream... Maybe he was still cozily cuddled up in bed, and he would go to school the next day and win the election....

Slowly, the truth started sinking in. This was reality. He had indeed lost.... Lost by a vote. Mr. People's Choice was approaching him with a grin on his face that matched the crescent moon, and an extended hand. "No hard feelings...right buddy?" he said. No hard feelings? How can there be no hard feelings? He felt like ramming a stick of dynamite into that grinning face and blowing it off from the face of the earth. And he as well might have, had there been any lying around. But the principal had been clever. He had brought his sniffer dog to school, and confiscated all the fire power.

The school peon must have been feeling what he was going through, for he mercifully rang the bell, signalling the end of the day. Rithish walked slowly out of his class, onto the far end of the school, where no lesser being dared to venture. But he was a daring boy. He always had been....

He sat under the pine tree mulling over the day's happenings. He could not beleive that this could happen to him. Had not his friends pledged their support to him? Had their smiles and wishes all been fake? Was there something hidden behind the veil in their eyes? How could he lose? How could he ever lose? Where could he have gone wrong? Had he not wanted to win? Had he not wanted enough?

His heart felt like it was shrinking. He felt his boy shudder. He tried to be brave. But he could not. He could not overcome that feeling. The hot burning sensation in his eyes. Tears started rolling down his cheeks. Slowly at first...then swiftly... uncontrollably. And... for perhaps the last time in his life, he cried. He did not want to stop. He wanted to be released of this pain. And so he cried... cried till the tears would flow no more...till he felt he was bleeding tears....till he felt a presence near him.

His friend had been there all the time. Waiting for him to have his private moment. He approached and sat next to Rithish. Under the same pine tree, which had been a mute listener to all their talk throughout their schooling years. Listened without so much as a grumble to their talks, had it been their discussions about cricket, Asterix, the three investigators, or their harbored fantasies about Miss UdayaKumari, the sixth grade teacher. His friend was like the pine tree now.... Mute, and ever ready to listen.

Neither of them spoke. Words would have been so out of place. He touched his friend's shoulder. Rithish looked at him. And he saw it. He saw it in his eyes. He saw that his friend had felt everything he had felt. His friend had undergone the torture. There was a quiver in his lips. A hint of uncertainity of whether he had taken the right step. By following his mind...... By helping the one who deserved..... In turn having had to go against his closest friend.

And then, Rithish saw enlightenment. Like Buddha, the Illustrious One had under the Great Banyan tree. He began to see things from a different perspective. He saw, that had he been in his friend's shoes, he too would have taken a similar decision..... Followed his mind.

He is not a friend who helps you in need.....but one who helps you if you are deserving...
And Rithish knew, that though even his shadow may desert him, his friend would not.

Not this friend.

Not Harsha...