by Sudha Murty
Shrikant’s gaze turned involuntarily to Shrimati’s house. He could see Shrimati, dressed as usual in a cotton saree, a string of bakula flowers tucked in her long plait her only adornment. She was engrossed in a conversation with her friends Sharada and Vandana.
What were they talking about? Were they laughing at his defeat? Was she gloating over her success? Shrikant was getting more and more agitated.
Just then he saw his group of friends led by Mallesh and Ravi approaching his house. Mallesh had a garland in his hand. Shrikant went out to meet them and Mallesh garlanded him. Then in a low tone he said, ‘Congratulations, Shrikant! She may be first but you are first among the boys.’
Shaking hands with Shrikant, Ravi said, ‘Come on, Mallya, did we know that Shrikant would get the second rank? This is indeed a bonus for us. So what if Shrikant has not got the first rank this time? He will definitely get it next time. Haven’t you heard the famous poem, “Try and try again boys, you will succeed at last.”’
Mallya laughed, ‘Yes, yes, that poem is especially written for boys.’
Patting Ravi on the back, he said, ‘Now, let’s not be jealous. Isn’t she our classmate too? Has she not brought glory to our school? As far as I can see, we have made a lot of fun of her but she hasn’t retaliated even once. We should go and congratulate her. Shrikant you must also come. I am sure there will not be any problem.’
Shrimati had been surprised to see the telegram informing her about her first rank. She had never ever expected that! When her mother had asked her about her performance in the exam, she had casually said that she had done fairly well. This first rank made her really happy, but she kept her cool.
Actually, it was her friends who were absolutely thrilled, particularly Sharada, because Shrimati’s success was a one-up in the girls’ camp and one-down in the boys’ camp.
Rindakka, who had looked down upon Shrimati all these years beause she was not as fair and good-looking as herself, was very pleased that her granddaughter had done better than her neighbour’s son! Suddenly her tone changed. ‘After all she is my granddaughter,’ she said with pride in her voice, ‘she has inherited my intelligence.’
Shrimati’s father Shrikant Deshpande, too, was beaming with happiness and was very proud of his daughter’s performance. He behaved as though he was responsible for it. Kamala had a look of peace and satisfaction on her face. But in Shrimati, there was absolutely no change.
When Shrimati saw the group of her classmates coming towards her house, she wondered what they wanted, what would happen. She wasn’t curious to know Shrikant’s marks. Though not first rank, she was sure he would have also got very good marks.
She quickly warned her friends and the people at home not to say anything to Shrikant. ‘After all, an examination is not the index in life. It is just a matter of luck at that moment. I do not want to hurt anybody when they come to our house,’ she said.
Sharada was most displeased with this remark.
FIVE
The rainy season had set in. There was a continuous drizzle. Mother earth was so thirsty that she had been longing for the showers. The dried yellow grass was turning green. Flowers bloomed and were looking fresh as if after a bath. The beautiful champaka flowers shivered in the cold breeze. The bakula tree was so happy that it was laden with blossoms. Though it was not pouring, the continuous drizzle was making life difficult for everyone. Even Gangakka was tired of picking up the bakula flowers and making innumerable garlands for all the gods.
Almost a week passed by in celebrations and felicitations after the announcement of the results. There was great jubilation in Shrimati’s school because of the two ranks that the school had bagged. With this result, the school’s reputation got a huge boost and there was a long queue of parents when new admissions were announced.
Shrimati and Shrikant were the focus of all the attention. They were given numerous prizes, much praise was heaped upon them by their teachers and students looked upon them as role models.
In all these felicitations, neither Shrimati nor Shrikant congratulated or even spoke to each other. Though Shrimati tried once or twice, Shrikant did not respond. He was still too hurt. So Shrimati withdrew. It was not proper for a girl to push too much. In a place like Hubli, such things mattered a lot. Girls were not supposed to even talk to boys in public.
After the excitement had died down, Shrimati decided to go and visit her maternal grandmother who lived in Dharwad. She was too old to travel, so the granddaughter thought she would go and get her blessings.
Shrimati took the Hubli-Dharwad local train. After the office rush hour, the train was usually empty. Shrimati got into a deserted compartment and sat by a window. Since it was quite a boring journey, she had brought a book along and as soon as she settled down, opened it and started reading. Just as the train was about to start, Shrimati realized that one more person had entered the compartment and occupied the seat opposite hers. She looked up and to her surprise, found it was her classmate Shrikant Deshpande.
For a minute, she was taken aback, but she said nothing.
Shrikant was equally surprised to see Shrimati. He was travelling to Dharwad to meet his sister’s in-laws. When he looked at Shrimati, he did not know what to do. This was the first time both of them were facing each other without their respective friends. Shrikant was quick to observe that she was simply dressed as usual, with no jewellery except the glass bangles on her hands and the string of his favourite bakula flowers tucked in her hair.
The mild fragrance of bakula pervaded the compartment. He looked at her face and saw she had a natural smile, which was neither ingratiating nor condescending. Shrikant mustered up enough courage to talk to her.
‘Are you going to Dharwad?’ he asked, knowing very well that the train’s destination was only Dharwad!
‘Yes, to meet my grandmother. She lives in Malmaddi. What about you?’
‘I am going to meet some relatives in Saptapur.’ The conversation stopped there.
Although Shrikant was gregarious by nature, that day he did not know what to say, even though he really wanted to talk to her. He felt drawn to Shrimati, but could not say why. Perhaps because they were opposites in nature, or because she was his rival or because forbidden fruit is always more desirable!
Suddenly he remembered he had not congratulated her, so he extended his hand and said, ‘Congratulations.’
Shrimati was confused for a moment. A gesture, like shaking hands with a man, was not common in the society of that time.
However, she reluctantly took his hand and shyly said, ‘Thanks and congratulations to you also.’
‘Why are you congratulating me? For having stood second, is it?’
‘No, Shrikant. Believe me, I think your success is more deserved than mine. There is no great difference between the first and second rank. It is only a matter of the examiner’s mood and a few better answers. Many a time I wanted to talk to you, and tell you how much I appreciate the qualities you have which I don’t. You are so focused and hardworking. Over a period of time, these qualities will fetch you whatever your want. Unlike you, I am happy with small things . . .’
Shrikant was surprised by her words and happy too. A girl who was brighter than him had appreciated his qualities. He felt elated! Suddenly he knew how the conversation could continue.
‘Shrimati, which college are you going to join?’
‘I have decided to take up arts.’
That meant Shrimati would not be a classmate any more. More than that she would no longer be his rival! The thought cheered him up. ‘Why do you want to take up arts when you are so good at science?’
‘I am more inclined towards history and literature. Moreover, I have a principle of my own. We should do what we really like. For two things in life it is very important for us to make our own decisions. One is education. I believe we must study only that subject which we like.’
‘What about the other one?’
‘The other on
e is marriage, because partners remain with each other forever in life. Other things like choosing a saree or buying a house can be reversed. But not these two things.’
Shrikant agreed immediately, as long as she was taking a different stream!
But he was really puzzled. It was very unusual of shy Shrimati to talk so frankly. Shrimati too began to feel uncomfortable because her hand was still in Shrikant’s hand! He had not left it. Gathering up her courage she said softly, ‘Will you let go of my hand, please?’
Shrikant quickly dropped it and looked very embarrassed. He hadn’t realized how long he had been holding on to her hand.
The train had now reached Amargol station and there was no signal to go ahead. So the train had to halt there. It was going to be late reaching Dharwad.
Shrikant felt that this was a good opportunity to get to know Shrimati. Already he had realized that she was so different from what he had imagined. Whatever she said, it was simple, straight, clear and directly from the heart. There was no artifice, no attempt to show off, nothing put on. Much as he didn’t like to admit it, he knew that she was definitely more intelligent than him.
And all this while, he had been hearing only negative remarks about her from his sister and mother. Perhaps, they were not even aware of her true nature.
How would anyone know her without becoming friends with her?
‘Shrimati, now our paths will be different and our friends will be different too. In our school we could hardly speak because of our names. Now onwards, let us be good friends and talk to each other.’
Shrimati looked into Shrikant’s eyes. She liked this straightforward, good-natured boy, she decided. What was the harm in being friends?
‘Where can we meet and talk? You know the background of our families. My grandmother and your mother are always around. I cannot meet you outside,’ Shrimati’s face was troubled.
‘Don’t worry, Shrimati. Every problem has a solution. And this is not a great problem at all. You know that every morning my mother goes to the Railway Eshwar temple and it takes her at least an hour to go there and come back. Your grandmother also goes to the Rayara Mattha at the same time. That is the best time for us to meet and talk.’
Shrimati was surprised at Shrikant’s observation. Even she was not aware of such details.
‘But where can we meet?’
‘God is kind to us. We have a bakula tree in common. Early in the morning, the flowers are freshly fallen. You can come to collect them and so will I. Is it not a right place?’
Shrimati liked Shrikant’s strategy and nodded her head with a smile.
SIX
Shrimati, Vandana and Sharada joined the arts college while Shrikant, Ravi and Mallesh joined the science college.
Two months later, Mallesh, finding the science course tough, joined the commerce college. Since the classmates had all gone different ways, no one teased Shrikant or Shrimati any more.
Shrimati loved the college more than her school. It had an excellent library and she could borrow the best books from there. As her classes were in the morning, she was free during the afternoons. So she was able to help her mother at home and have enough time to study and read. Kamala would have liked her daughter to study medicine, but she did not say anything knowing her daughter’s inclination towards history. Shrikantrao wanted his daughter to become a lawyer but he dared not say anything to her, knowing her scant respect for him.
Shrikant and Shrimati would meet every day near the bakula tree, and talk about various things. Shrimati would diligently gather the bakula flowers, while Shrikant would talk about his college and his dreams.
During one such conversation, Shrikant told her, ‘Shrimati, I don’t like you calling me Shrikant like everybody else. I want you to call me Shri.’
For a moment Shrimati did not understand what he meant. But when she realized it, she blushed and nodded her head.
No one in either house was aware of their ‘flower-gathering meetings’.
The two years of Pre University passed without any difficulties. And so did their friendship.
Shrikant had grown more confident and mature. He did very well in the exams and got a good rank. With his marks, he could get admission in any of the engineering colleges in Karnataka. But he had decided to sit for the entrance test for IIT. Of the five premier technology institutes in India, the Indian Institute of Technology, Bombay was his first choice since it was closest to home. But he was taking a big chance. The entrance test was tough and the competition was stiff.
Ravi Patil also decided to join Shrikant in preparing for the entrance test.
Shrikant met one of their seniors, Vasudev Shenoy, who had gone to IIT three years ago, and got all the information and tips on how to prepare. He was determined to get into IIT. Both Ravi and Shrikant had financial problems but that did not deter Shrikant from his ambition. He told his mother to sell a part of the land if needed. Their friend Mallesh also did fairly well in his commerce college.
Shrimati, whose favourite subjects were history, sanskrit and english, had joined the arts college for a BA degree, much to everyone’s surprise. She was known as an extremely bright student, so other students pointed to her saying, ‘See, that’s Shrimati Deshpande. Though she stood first in the Board she has joined the arts college!’ Shrimati would smile to herself.
Her friend Sharada’s family wanted her to get a BA degree. The subject did not matter. A degree was a rare thing in their family. Vandana’s father wanted her to do an MA, like he had done.
Even after they joined college, there was no change in Shrimati’s daily routine. She, Vandana and Sharada went to college together as they had gone to school.
Though she was very frank and friendly with these two girls, she had not told them of her daily meetings with Shrikant. In fact, she had not wanted to share it with anybody. She could not explain why.
Soon the IIT results were announced. Shrikant and Ravi both got through, and secured admission to IIT, Bombay. Shrikant even got the subject of his choice, computer science, unlike Ravi who had wanted mechanical but got metallurgy.
Shrikant was going to stay away from Hubli for the first time in his life, and he was feeling a little uneasy. He would have to stay in Bombay for the next five years. He was sure that he would miss the early morning meetings under the bakula tree. In the last two years he had developed a strong attachment for ‘his Shrimati’. It was more than an adolescent crush, he knew. She was very special to him.
Shrimati was sad too. Like Shrikant, she had also got used to meeting him in the mornings. Now, for the next five years, that would not be possible. Though he would come home twice every year, the long absence could change his mind, she thought. What if he met some smart bright girls in Bombay? Would his affection for her remain the same? When ravishing gladioli and fragrant rajanigandhas were around, would he remember the tiny, self-effacing bakula?
The day of their last meeting dawned. Shrimati did not say anything, but she was pale. Shrikant knew she was upset—he could read her mind.
‘Shrimati,’ he said to her in an assuring voice, ‘you know that I am highly focused. I am going there only for studies. I will look neither to the left nor to the right. Nothing matters to me. I am and will always be your Shri.’
‘Will you write to me, Shri?’
‘Of course I will write. In the second and fourth week of every month. And you must write to me every first and third week.’
Shrimati could say nothing more. She lowered her head and bent down to pick up the delicate bakula flowers. Shrikant said to her, ‘Shrimati, I’ll miss your company and our flower.’
‘Then I will enclose a flower in every letter,’ Shrimati promised.
Both of them were so engrossed in their conversation, they had forgotten that they had crossed the time limit. Rindakka was back from the temple. Not seeing Shrimati in the kitchen, she had started yelling.
‘Shrimati, where are you? The milk is boiling.’
Shrimati was startled.
‘Shri, I have to run now. When will we meet again?’
Smilingly Shrikant said, ‘In December. But tell me, Shrimati, to which address can I send the letters?’
‘There is always a solution to every problem, haven’t you told me? Write to my address but don’t write your address at the back. Nobody will come to know.’
Shrimati disliked such deceitful methods but in her circumstances, she had no choice.
SEVEN
Neither had Shrikant travelled much nor had he had much exposure to the outside world. Since all his relatives lived in and around Dharwad, he had not got the opportunity to go anywhere else. Only after joining IIT did Shrikant get to meet and know about people from different parts of the country.
IIT, Bombay had a sprawling campus. It was located in Powai, a suburb of Bombay. The atmosphere inside the institute was a stark contrast to the crowded, bustling city outside. The campus had a lot of greenery, and the many buildings—offices, classrooms, labs, auditorium, canteen, hostels—were spread out over a large area. There was no distraction; it was an ideal place for studies. There were very few girls in the engineering course. Whenever Shrikant came across a girl in the campus, he would think of Shrimati. With her intelligence and capacity for hard work, she would have definitely got a place in IIT. He often imagined what life would have been like if Shrimati was also there.
At first Shrikant was very homesick. He missed his family. He felt a misfit in the cosmopolitan crowd. But as the days passed he began to enjoy the course, he made friends and got used to the food. All his classmates, no matter where they came from, what language they spoke, were there because they were really bright, and very focused. Before long, he found he was happy in IIT.
As he had promised, he wrote to Shrimati every second and fourth week of the month, and shared all his feelings with her. He described in his letters the course he was doing, the food in the hostel mess, the new friends he had made. Through his words, he introduced her to their world, and to the charms of Bombay. Shrimati, on the other hand, did not have much to say. There was no great change in her life. Yet she replied regularly to his letters every first and third week of the month. She never forgot to enclose a bakula flower. Whenever Shrikant received her letters, he felt as if Shrimati was standing next to him, the gentle, mildly fragrant, homely but extremely affectionate Shrimati!
