His laugh was so majestic that I can still hear it loud and clear. Kavi and I spent seemingly endless hours working together at the Daily, so we had to temper our giggling but also tried to make each other laugh constantly. I knew I was successful if he had to get up from his computer and take a lap — it was a huge victory. I hold his poop jokes in highest esteem, as he was one of the few who truly understood this art form.


Percussion section, Houghton High School circa 2008. It’s nearing the end of band class, last playthrough of a song before the bell rings. Kavi, playing the snare, leans over and whispers to me at the base drum, “Let’s speed it up”. A giggle escapes his lips. Slowly he begins to increase tempo. I follow suit. Soon the trumpets, trombones, and tubas fall in line, beckoning the rest of the band. The band director looks up, wondering why everybody is playing faster. Panic enters her eyes as she realizes she has lost control. She elaborates her directorial movements in a last attempt to slow down the band but it is too late and she surrenders, matching the pace that Kavi sets. Sweat rolls down my aching back as the song nears its galloping end, my arms cannot endure this pace much longer. The final notes ring out and the crescendo is replaced with silence. The bell rings and Kavi smiles as a tired and confused band escapes into the hallway.


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