Flashback to somewhere in the 1990s…. It's been a few years since my family has moved to Delhi; for me, the change has involved an exchange of a single pale pink building (St. Anne's) to a generous spread of warm, red brick structures also known as The Convent of Jesus and Mary. I belong to a fabulous gal gang of know-it-all teenagers who have misplaced pride in their foolish-sounding, self-proclaimed, 'Great Eight' title.

Ganieve enters this scenario only in class XI, when my group is unfairly fragmented and slotted into different sections - I am left with two gang members; the three of us sit tight together, directly in front of Ganieve and her two close buddies. And, a new circle is formed, a fresh cycle begins...

Everyday, the sextet's lunch boxes are devoured by 11 a.m., away from the prying eyes of monotonous lecturers; actual lunch breaks are spent scrounging for canteen money and consequently sharing a piping idli sambhar or a tangy, orange ice bar. Sometimes, tedious math periods are bunked altogether, the stretch of 40 minutes spent hiding behind the cola stall or boldly prancing with hockey sticks, as though in free practice for an inter school sports event.

When a good-as-real inter school play competition does come along, we all eagerly put forth our names to assist in backstage production and props - 30 afternoons go by in preparation for painting and mud-smearing a bunch of cardboard cartons to resemble a makeshift wall - most days, some incredible urgency pops up, which could have the entire six rushing off outside school grounds to procure a thick roll of tape, followed by a leisurely plate of chaat at the famed Bengali Market.

Weekends are spent organising driver duty for lunches at Machan and Nirula's and grovelling for group parental permission to attend a Samantha Fox concert.

And every evening, long conference calls debating outfits for a friend's brother's 'co-ed' party result in colour coordinated ensembles for the night out where we remain glued to each other, eyes darting in every possible corner to report a 'cute boy' alert.

Of course, all good things come to an end - I return to Mumbai and another round of fun and frolic at H.R. College; Ganieve moves to Delhi's Jesus and Mary College, and…some serious studying! "There was nothing else to do!" she says in her defence. "Everyone had boyfriends; I spent my mornings dropping the girls off to their respective dates and then, gave full attendance at classes." As I shake my head in shame at her inappropriate studious past, she continues, "I even had time to learn Italian and go for horse riding sessions; then came the art appreciation course." As always, Ganieve was easily cajoled into doing what a bunch of others joined for a lark.