Anavi Chatterjee had faced a lot of challenges in life—corporate boardrooms, epic egos at official retreats, cross-country marathon training, and once, a flea-ridden kitten that had made its home in her car—but nothing quite prepared her for the sheer panic of an out-of-the-blue friend request from Myra Menon.
Myra Menon. The very name transported Anaya back to their school days—where Myra had been the reigning champion of “eat the most puchkas at a go” and the mastermind behind the Great Frog Incident of pre-boards biology class. Anavi had spent most of her childhood alternating between admiring Myra and wondering how they hadn’t been expelled! Back in the day, Myra was the reigning queen of mischief, and Anavi was her enthusiastic, if slightly baffled, sidekick. They had been inseparable—bonding over a shared love of puchkas, bad Bollywood films, and a mutual dislike of needlework class.
Then life happened: colleges in different cities, careers, marriages, etc.
After staring at her phone for a good five minutes, Anavi finally accepted the request and, fuelled by some amount of curiosity, sent Myra a message.
Anavi: Well, well, well... Look who popped up to find me after all these years. Should I be afraid?
Myra: If I say no, will you believe me?
Anavi: Absolutely not. Are you in town? How long has it been?
Myra: Smart woman. Coffee? Tomorrow? 4 pm at Coco Barista? I won’t carry frogs, I promise!
Anavi chuckled and agreed.
And suddenly, after almost 2 decades of radio silence, she was about to meet Myra Menon again.
Living on different continents did that. How much would they have changed, she wondered.
________________________________________
The next day, Anavi arrived at the café fifteen minutes early because she was still the kind of person who liked being prepared.
Myra, on the other hand, jangled in ten minutes late, wearing innumerable bangles and sunglasses indoors and a grin that always meant trouble.
Coco Barista’s hadn’t changed. The same laminated menu, the same wobbly chairs, the same old barista himself, who believed that he had personally discovered the secret to immortality but would never share it.
“Anavi Chatterjee,” Myra yodelled, like their Principal used to, dramatically sliding into the seat opposite her. “You look responsible. I hate it.”
“You look like someone who just pulled off a jewel heist,” Anavi shot back. “Did you? Do you need a lawyer?”
Myra took off her sunglasses with a flourish. “No heists, just life being mildly chaotic. You know, the usual.”
Anavi laughed. "And here I thought you’d be busy ruling over your kingdom of sorcery and spells."
She grinned. "Oh, I do sometimes. But I take occasional breaks to check on the people I once carried through math class."
"Carried? That’s fictional history. I distinctly remember you copying my homework before classes started."
"Lies. Slander."
Myra sighed dramatically and took a sip of coffee. "Anyway, tell me everything. And I mean everything. Who are you working for? Any juicy scandals in your life? Do you still talk in your sleep?"
Anavi laughed. "I’m a corporate lawyer. No scandals. Working for a private organisation, I get paid to argue, and somehow, that’s considered professional! And as for talking in my sleep, I refuse to comment. What about you?"
They spent the next hour catching up. Myra was single, and had become a travel journalist, ……meaning, “I get paid to lose luggage in exotic locations."
They reminisced about school, and despite the years apart, fell into the easy laughter that only comes when you’ve known someone long enough to have an entire arsenal of embarrassing stories about them—the disastrous chemistry experiment that stank up the lab so badly that it had to be shut down for cleaning for 4 whole days!
And the time they convinced the entire class that the principal’s middle name was Bartholomew, and it should be engraved on each desk with the compass!
That food fight that got them both banned from the cafeteria for a week
And, of course, the infamous frog incident.
“So what really happened with the frogs?” Anavi finally asked, narrowing her eyes. “You never actually told me.”
Myra leaned in conspiratorially. “Ah, Anavi, some secrets are best left buried.”
Anavi glowered, using her signature move at court. “TELL. STOP BEING A PAIN.”
“Yet, here you are, willingly having coffee with me,” Myra pointed out smugly.
Anavi rolled her eyes, smiling. “Yeah, I think I missed the chaos.”
Myra beamed. “Good. Because I have a plan.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” Myra wiggled her eyebrows. “Remember ‘Sajna’ Dutta, the drumstick-look-alike librarian?”
Anavi gasped. “Yes. Myra, please don’t say you —”
“Oh, but I did,” Myra interrupted gleefully. “He still works at school. And I may have gently suggested we pay him a visit.”
Anavi covered her face with her hands. “I’m a lawyer, Myra. I can’t be involved in whatever criminal activity you’re about to suggest.”
Myra waved a hand dismissively. “Please. We’re just going to drop by, say hello, and maybe return the book we accidentally 'borrowed' twenty years ago.”
Anavi raised an eyebrow. “What??? You still have that book?”
Myra grinned. “What can I say? Some friendships—and some crimes—are forever.”
Anavi shook her head, laughing. And just like that, it was like no time had passed at all.
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