Anyone Else But You...

by Mallik, Ritwik; Verma, Ananya

  The elderly caretaker, affectionately called Bhau or brother was doing his routine job of knocking on the doors of each and every student, asking them to wake up as it was time for them to go for their morning run.

  It was Rishav’s second or third visit to the Boy’s Hostel but it was the first time he actually got to see the interiors of it. The size of the rooms gave him bouts of claustrophobia and the state of the bathing rooms made him nauseas. And we complain about our homes? He said to himself.

  Bhau quickly escorted him towards the Warden’s office.

  “Are you sure, you won’t fall into any trouble?” Rishav asked the gingerly old man.

  “No, no son, I am immune. They can’t dare to touch me even; I have support of the Union. But, then what about you? Are you also a part of the Student Union?” he asked as he moved in short but quick paced steps.

  “Council bhau not Union and besides, I think I have stepped down, by my actions of course” Rishav replied with a hint of relief in his voice.

  “Stepped down? Why?”

  “Politics and dirt, it’s a long story. You know Siddhant Dalvi?” Rishav inquired.

  “Yes, yes, Shekhar Dalvi’s son – I saw him being born. Saddened and grieved to hear of his death…”

  “Death nahi Bhau, murder!” Rishav exclaimed.

  “Murder? Are you kidding me?” the old man stroked his pepper-salt stubble.

  “Yes, yes, murder. It’s a long story Bhau but what I need to do right now is enter the Warden’s office unnoticed.”

  “Just a few more steps and you are there,” Bhau replied.

  It was Diwali when Rishav had spotted the old man running around to get an errant done. Not used to coming to that part of the school, he had found it extremely difficult to get his job done. That’s when Rishav Sen, at his prime as the Head Boy helped him around by personally showing him around to the right people. “I owe you one,” Bhau had said to him. It was time Rishav came to seek the favour.

  Rishav got to know from his hostel friends that a crate of packed Queenfisher beer cans had made its way to the Hostel. Although at the sight of it, it seemed to be a direct slap on the face of the authorities, it was not to be. Each crate which had been ordered by some powerful names in the hostel had a commission of two hundred rupees attached to it. And the entire money was being pocketed by the Warden.

  “Twenty five crates came in, last night…” Bhau said as he unlocked the door. “Look under the Warden’s cupboard,” he pointed.

  Rishav couldn’t believe what he saw. After all the crap he had read about in the school’s prospectus, there was something as appalling as liquor being served to minors in the Hostel of a premier institution.

  “What do you want to do now?” the old man asked.

  “Expose these bastards,” Rishav replied.

  “I would advise you against it though. You don’t want to get thrown out,” he said.

  “I won’t, trust me. You have the receipts signed by the Warden?” Rishav asked.

  “Why do you think the Warden would sign them?”

  “Because that bastard would want his share of commission,” Rishav chuckled.

  In the background, the sound of shuffling slippers could be heard. Students were already out of their rooms, making their way towards the mess for their morning glass of milk.

  “You are correct, he does have receipts but I don’t want you to fall into trouble.” Bhau insisted.

  “Okay, then you have to let me click photographs.”

  Bhau shook his head in stark disapproval of Rishav’s idea. But Rishav Sen continued to relent, till the man allowed him to take out his mobile phone and click some well defined snaps of the murk that existed right under Bindu Kalsi’s fat ass!

  One for DNN-IGN, cheeeseee! He said under his breath, while he clicked the ‘capture’ button.

  THREE DAYS LATER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  If one bothered to peep through the tinted glass panes of Mrs.Bindu Kalsi’s office at Delhi High School, it wouldn’t be too hard to predict the temperatures out there. The heat was definitely on and that too, on a cold December morning.

  In his robust self, the Chairman of the Delhi High School Society paced Kalsi’s office, up and down. While, an anxious Kalsi stood, yes, she stood unlike the million times; she’d want to rest her big butt on her comfortable chair. But then, seeing the Chairman so restless had unnerved her to no extent. With those pudgy fingers resting against the wooden table of hers, her eyes followed the Chairman’s movements at all times.

  Apart from the two of them, Ms. Muskaan was present in the room. She displayed vast quantities of nonchalance by the looks of it, but deep within that cramped heart of hers, she was worried too and the fact that she was referring to the Chairman as Sir and not Chandra ji stood as evidence to the claim that she was indeed skeptical about what to expect from the imminent signs of danger. The creeper of insecurity was finally making its presence felt in Muskaan Kaur’s life.

  Chandrashekhar looked at the paper in disbelief; he had been reading and re-reading it since the moment his wife had given it to him that morning. In between his motions, the Chairman was having a jolly good time imagining himself pole dancing with the hottest chicks of tinsel town, but that was clearly not to be. Two knocks on the bathroom door suggested that his sluggish wife had some news for him. Luckily enough for him, she wasn’t really demanding him to have sex with her in the bathroom. Rather, it was this newspaper article she wanted him to read. And yes, one roll of his eyes over the article was good enough to shake off the motion-sensations as he sprinted towards the shower to get ready at a speed that would make Usain Bolt look like a tortoise.

  Generally, the Chairman was the one who’d keep others waiting but today, he reached half-an-hour ahead of schedule, much to the surprise and shock of everyone. The first thing he noticed after entering was that almost every god damned person was carrying the morning edition of DNN Times. And ironically, the headlines for that newspaper seemed to be drawing so much of unnecessary attention that even those who’d be the last ones to sacrifice their morning doze of gossip and chai were convinced enough to sacrifice the former and do some ‘critical reading’.

  There was this article that was prominently displayed on the top half of the newspaper.

  CELEBRATING THE ‘Boy Who Died’

  Delhi High School hosts its annual extravaganza while family mourns.

  By Runjhun Sharma, DNN-IGN

  New Delhi: The much acclaimed and coveted Delhi High School recently hosted its annual musical extravaganza – Socialact Wave in the school grounds on Tuesday. Apart from being an eyeball grabber, the event boasted of a lot of undeserved hype and attention. Funded by the Boating Club of India and passionately sponsored by Mr.Veer Chauhan, the Socialact Club organized this event like it does, every year. However, after the arrival of Mrs.Bindu Kalsi, who took over as the Principal, April this year – the school has witnessed some overhauling changes. One of the major noticeable changes has been the shift of the venue for the event – Socialact Wave which used to take place in the school auditorium finally got a new venue (which I hear is after a long time) in the form of the school ground. Apart from the overrated performance of the band ‘EksCruciate’ and long monotonous speeches from the Principal and the Vice Principal, what missed everyone’s eyes was the news of the tragic death of a Class XI student of Delhi High School, Siddhant Dalvi. Dalvi (17) had committed what some call suicide in the wee hours of Saturday morning. The school’s initial response was that of shock after which it quite smartly shirked off all kinds of responsibility from the event by calling it ‘tragic’ and saying that it was inevitable as Dalvi was in an inebriated state. What the school has failed to acknowledge is the fact that a number of occurrings happened in the school and are still taking place, which is leading young kids like Dalvi to the brink of ending their life. And much to the hypocrisy of a school which claims to love its family endlessly, the staging of Socialact Wave s
tands as a fact to the claim that the school is hoodwinking not only its parents but also the society of which it is a part of.

  From reports that have been gathered from credible sources, it is learnt that a large consignment of alcohol had entered the school premises through the hostel, some days before Wave. Photos that were captured show that the crates were being stored by the Hostel warden himself and then being released to students on payment of commission. It is no joke that alcohol had been made illegally available to most who sought it during the staging of Socialact Wave. The headbanging and ear-splitting music aside, there were other events. There’ve been events of greater magnitude than Socialact Wave that each one should be aware of. DNN-IGN has gathered that in the lead-up to Dalvi’s suicide, Dalvi had been brutally assaulted by one of the members of the teaching faculty of Delhi High School. There happened to be some kind of confrontation between the student and the teacher which resulted in Dalvi being treated dishonourably and humiliated in front of his peers. As though that wasn’t enough, the eleventh grader’s shirt was ripped apart by the teacher and he was slapped repeatedly and thrown out of the class. The school’s official stand had like usual, been that of denial. The school instead, maligned Dalvi by stating that he was involved in a brawl outside school and also slapped a suspension notice against the kid. However, no action was taken against the staff member for unknown reasons.

  DNN-IGN has made repeated attempts to get the comments of top officials of the DHS Society; however, all of them have refused to make any statements. Mrs. Bindu Kalsi, Principal, Delhi High School has kept her phone on silent mode ever since we first tried to contact her. Much to their ignorance, the top officials believed that not being available would deter us from getting this story out. Siddhant Dalvi’s close friend and ex-Head Boy, Rishav Sen had spoken to us and he said that the main reason why he had given up his position recently was because he no longer believed in the system. One known figure from the student fraternity did refute our claims and dismissed them as baseless allegation and he was Head Boy, Jai Chauhan, who is also the Secretary of the Socialact Club.

  One doesn’t really care about Jai but one does want to hear comments from the ‘real’ people. When will they speak up?

  (This report has been published in view of the interest of the general public of the city. The reports are backed by the presence of credible sources).

  Chandrashekhar’s first reaction on reading such incredible news was what was most expected – the one of shock. But as the shock gradually set into his system, it struck him that he had received no calls from DNN-IGN whatsoever. This in turn made him realize that Kalsi’s people from within the organization had deliberately tried to suppress this information from him. So, at that point of time, nothing was more important than going to DHS and sorting the matter out with Kalsi herself.

  *

  “I didn’t know that it was of such great magnitude,” said Kalsi mournfully. “I was mistaken. An honest mistake from my side,” she added.

  The Chairman shook his head in regret. Muskaan spoke, “Erm, uh, we have contacts in the Ministry, surely we can kill this news? And public memory is short, it won’t erm really hamper the school’s progress would it?” she stuttered.

  The Chairman remained silent. His silence was killing Muskaan and Kalsi.

  “Sir, if only you could guide us during this hour of duress like you have had all these years, with your exceptional leadership abilities and…” Kalsi could go on and on.

  Chandrashekhar raised a hand and asked her to stop, “Enough Bindu. Enough.” He said.

  Muskaan looked at him; vary of what he’d say next.

  “For all the years I’ve worked with your father, I have never imagined that a day would come when I’d want to even raise my voice at a member of the Chavan family. But, you have compelled me to,” he looked up. “What on holy earth were you thinking?” he shouted. “Why do you have such nincompoops running the entire school, I don’t understand.” He said a few of the f-words to personify his statement.

  Kalsi couldn’t dare to reply.

  “A child died, add to that a teacher beating him up and going unreported. Then we have Muskaan’s crazy insistence and affection towards programs like Wave, do you really want this old man to not live his final years in peace?” he demanded an answer.

  The facial muscles of Muskaan twitched when the Chairman mentioned her, “Sir, let me point out that Wave has generated profits of…” typical of Muskaan, the statistics were always so clear in her head.

  “To hell with the statistics,” screamed Chandrashekhar. “Profits can’t buy me back the name of this school. You get me Muskaan?”

  “Chandra ji…”

  “It’s Sir, Muskaan…call me sir.”

  “Okay,” Muskaan gulped down her ego. “Sir,” she said. “All that I’m saying is that we haven’t lost everything. We can still get a statement out saying how these allegations are false.”

  “No,” he revoked her stand. “You shall do nothing of that sort. From today, all decisions to be taken in this school will be sanctioned by me and I clearly do not sanction this move.”

  Kalsi and Muskaan nodded hesitantly.

  “Did you even read the article? Did you even see how hard hitting it was? And I still can’t understand why you chose to hold an event right after the student’s death. Why couldn’t you wait?”

  “The sponsors would run away,” mumbled Muskaan.

  “A child is dead and all you care about are sponsors? Shame on you Muskaan. Really, unexpected,” he replied. Her head bowed down a little.

  They remained quiet for a few seconds.

  “We need to clear the air; we need to speak to the media.” He declared.

  “No, we can’t do that,” replied Kalsi.

  “If you can’t, then I’ll put a new Principal in this room who can. So you better not give me this nonsense Bindu,” he raised his voice again. “I want you there on National Television clearing the air about this issue. No matter what stand you have to take, no matter what you have to say. If you have to sack half of the school, sack them, take actions of any magnitude. If you can’t sanction them, I will but please for heaven’s sake get us out of this murk. Alright?”

  “National television?” Bindu inquired.

  “Yes indeed. National television,” he replied. Muskaan coughed.

  And just about then, a visibly shaken up Veenu Sharma barged into Kalsi’s office without caring a hoot about who was present inside and who wasn’t. She flung a newspaper across Kalsi’s table, nearly knocking the glass of water over.

  “Did you see this? We are on the front page,” she said with an expression that conveyed awe and fear.

  Chairman rolled his eyes, “Thank you Veenu for informing us. We knew nothing about it.” He said with sarcasm.

  “Really? How come you didn’t know anything about it?” Veenu asked innocently.

  “Please take a seat, Veenu. We have a lot to talk about,” the Chairman instructed.

  Just a few metres away, the Receptionist of DHS was being heckled by a barrage of phone calls that had been coming incessantly since the news broke out that morning. Majority of India’s dailies and news channels wanted to cover the news and gather comments and information. Sick and tired of unending phone calls, she did what she had seen her bosses do all the time – she kept the phone off the hook and in a way unplugged herself, off all accountability on this planet.

  TWENTY-NINE

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  “Oh God! Switch’em off!” Vanya shouted as the lights hurt her eyes.

  “You can’t, it’s a part of the show,” Rishav whispered. “And don’t shout for God’s sake. It’s a studio. And you’ll get used to it. Just wait for a few seconds.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know,” Vanya dismissed him as she covered her eyes with her hands.

  Rishav and Vanya were the first to reach the
sprawling Headquarters of DNN-IGN located at Sector 16. The journey to the office, which usually took an hour or so from where Rishav stayed, seemed abnormally longer. The thought of facing all those eminent people and Bindu Kalsi was nauseating. Or, so Rishav felt. He was glad that Vanya was sitting beside him. If there was one person you’d want to be with when in need of support, it was Vanya. She could frame the world’s most illogical arguments, yet defend the worst of your stands. Although he wishedthat she would talk less. Already he was nervous and her incessant questions about how she looked made him more restless.

  “Chill yaaa. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna rock this studio. And rip BK’s clothes off,” She laughed.

  “Yeah right,” Rishav said sarcastically.

  “My hair looks fine?” She asked for the umpteenth time.

  “Oh God. Yeah. You look amazing ok? Now let me be,” Rishav forcefully whispered.

  “Pretty boy, why do you get so annoyed?” Vanya slurred.

  Rishav chose to not pay attention to her anymore.

  When they had reached the office, the guard made their passes for entering into the ten-storied office space. The logo of DNN-IGN shone brightly from whichever corner you viewed the building from. Right

  behind the building was a vast open space which was more than often used for hosting the parties (if one ever happened) and for the coffee vendor and canteen people to set up their stalls for the evening snacks. The two seventeen year olds walked past the number of satellite vans that were stationed outside the entrance to the building. There was also another building, slightly smaller – adjacent to the one that