by Nag Mani
“Saw whom?” Anjali asked and turned to Rohan.
Cautiously, he went into the make-up room. Only the wooden chair sat in the centre of the room. “There is nothing in here,” he declared.
More students had come down and were watching from the staircase.
“No! She is there…” Surbhi began to cry even louder, backing against the wall, kicking her legs frantically.
“See for yourself.” Rohan looked at her with concern, wondering exactly what had freaked her out. She was a sweet girl. She had a doll-like face and a long, graceful neck. But currently, her hair was dishevelled, her face glistening with tears. Anjali tried to take her to the room but she broke free and slumped to the floor. Her green T-shirt was poking untidily from under her jersey. It took a while for Anjali to take her to the room. But once there, her protests ceased altogether. “But… I saw her,” Surbhi was horrified, her eyes wide as she pointed to a spot next to the wooden chair. “She was right there; and this chair… it had fallen!”
“Yes, baby!” Anjali cut in. “I know you saw something. But it’s okay…” she turned to Rohan and nodded. She had it under control. She opened her mouth to speak again… but stopped.
They all looked towards the door that led to the spiral staircase. Someone had just giggled on the other side.
“Who’s there?” asked Manav.
Silence.
Slowly, the door opened and a boy poked his head in. It was Mohit Sharma, Surbhi’s classmate who played the Scarecrow.
“What are you doing there?” Nisha asked.
“I am…” he was dumb-struck. “I was… err… am coming from the Baski...” He pointed downwards. He was in his green Arthur House T-shirt, a navy blue jersey tied around his waist.
“Baski! When did you go to the Basketball Court?” enquired Anjali, her hands still around Surbhi, who was now fighting back her tears.
“I…” Mohit began to reply, but cut short as two more faces appeared behind him. Sensing trouble, Akshay and Nipurn lowered their heads in unison.
“Was this a prank?” asked Nisha.
“What prank?” Nipurn asked Mohit, who stared stupidly at Nisha.
“No! We were…”
But Nisha stormed out to the waiting room and opened a small closet under the staircase. “This…” she pointed at something hidden in the darkness.
Everyone peeped in to see what lay inside.
“Hold on,” said Manav. “I’ll bring it out.” He bent inside and brought out a life-size doll over his shoulder. She was in an old school uniform and filled the room with dust and pungent smell. They cleared the space as he carried it back to the make-up room and dumped it on the chair.
And they all stepped back in fright!
The doll had been meticulously designed. She once had sparkling blue eyes but due to some mishap, a large portion of her face, along with a huge chunk of her dark brown hair had been burnt away. Her left foot was missing. The uniform she was wearing had turned into something worse than a rag. Her multiple reflections in the adjacent mirrors suddenly made her presence more intimidating.
“Where did this come from?” Anjali asked, her eyes wide at the doll.
“Yes, I have never seen it either!” said Rohan.
“It was a stage prop. It’s been lying there since, like, forever,” replied Nisha. “Now,” she brought back their focus on the three boys, “where were you?”
Akshay and Nipurn looked at Mohit, perplexed. They seemed to have no idea why everyone was relating the doll to their presence in the Basketball Court. “We were in the Basketball Court…”
Anjali was no more interested in their excuse. She was carefully examining the doll. “Was there ever a fire in here?” she asked, examining the closet.
No one answered. No one knew.
Anjali lingered around the closet before turning back to the three boys. “What were you doing there?”
“We were… err…”
“Watching girls play basketball!” Chandni emerged from the staircase behind the boys. “Isn’t it?” she stepped inside the room and folded her arms.
“No. We just went down… to drink water and… a match was going on, so, we…” Mohit tried to cover up, though his cheeks had gone red.
“Now, listen to me!” Anjali snapped. “If you want to be in this play, you better be in front of my eyes, all the time, understand? Next time you take one step outside without informing me, you are off my list. Am I clear?”
The three boys nodded.
“Now, up you march! Everyone! And, Rohan, get this doll out of this place. It’s freaking out my little girl here!”
Rohan passed on the order to Akshay. He nodded, still wondering what had happened.
*
Rohan lay in his bed trying to sleep. The Junior School Head-Mistress was unavailable and Akshay was unable to dump the doll in the attic. He had to run all the way up to the dormitories to ask what to do with it, and back again to the Auditorium to put it back in the closet. Rohan thought of the weird incident in the Swimming Pool. Was that girl real? Had he actually seen her? She had seemed somewhat familiar. He tried to remember, but all he saw was blue water. And then there was a dead girl in the Green Room. She had imagined it, that’s what Anjali had said once Surbhi had calmed down. It was just a doll, no dead girl, no bleeding head. She had walked into the make-up room, caught a glimpse of something on the floor and ran out screaming before she fell at the staircase. It was a cruel trick of not the eyes but the mind. The Green Room was considered to be the scariest place in school, there was no point denying it, and with all the ghost stories floating around, even the cutest little object could initiate a chain-reaction of wildest nightmares. I put a doll in your bed and you sleep with it. I put the same doll in a grave-yard, and it can scare the hell out of you! Anjali had explained after she had taken a quick tour around the Green Room by herself. Yes, she was right. He too had imagined it. Legends were nothing but old stupid stories.
Nisha had a different perspective. She spent the next morning babbling about how the three boys had played a cruel prank on Surbhi. They had laid the doll in the make-up room for anyone who came down to explore the infamous Green Room. Surbhi was their first victim. They had put the doll back in the closet when she ran out and then gone down to the Basketball Court for cover. Though this story was the only explanation Rohan could think of, he found it hard to believe. It was because of the spontaneous expressions on their faces when they had entered the room. Either they were a bit too good at faking or they really didn’t know what had happened.
Nevertheless, the mysterious girl of the Green Room had been unravelled.
***
“What are you doing?” whispered Rohan angrily. He was sitting in the Library with Ayush, who was carefully tearing off a picture of a female model from a magazine. The librarian was noisily typing away something on his computer, today in a parrot-green blazer.
“She does not deserve to be here.”
Yes, she did not. She was hot model in a tight red dress, bending over a luxury car. All hot models, whether bending over an automobile or not, deserved to be in his wallet, a lucky, brown leather marvel that carried super-models instead of cash. Rohan got up to look for something to read. He aimlessly wandered into an empty section, scanning the spines of books until his eyes fell on Chandni, doing the same on the other end of the aisle. He did not know what to do. There were millions of things he could have done instead of just standing there and stupidly staring at her. She was coming closer, apparently unaware of his presence. He stepped aside for her; and she just walked past, without as much as looking at him. Rohan felt a prick in his heart. Why had she just ignored him? Had he done something wrong? But there was nothing he could think of and it was killing him.
He did not see her in the Auditorium for practice. Anjali sat on the stage with all the actors encircling her, listening intently as she read out the script. Ayush was again absent. It was obvious that he had no role during
initial practices, but Rohan thought he ought to attend, at least to maintain their integrity. With nothing to engage himself, he sat in the front row, reading the names of alumni who had fought in the World Wars when Nipurn burst in from the balcony, “Football?”
Rohan followed him out at once. Three of Nipurn’s friends were excitedly kicking a football around in a small clearing made by pushing some tables away. He was about to join them when he spotted Chandni on the other end. She was leaning against the railing with the script in her hands, gazing blankly at the mountain across the Field. She did not seem to notice him, or anyone else as a matter of fact.
Rohan got into the game, trying every stupid tactic to attract her attention. The juniors laughed and clapped, but she did not as much as look his way. He finally managed to score in a five feet wide goal and his team-mate roared in triumph. He instantly looked at Chandni, and yes, he had scored her attention as well... for she was furious. “Can’t you monkeys see I am trying to practice here?”
“Practicing? What? Bird-watching?” Nipurn mumbled.
The others turned their faces to laugh, but Rohan gave them a stern look. “I am sorry!” he croaked.
“Clear off!” she snapped and turned away.
If he had felt a prick in the Library, a thousand spears now pierced his heart. The juniors left, but he stayed. “I am sorry…” he said once again, but she wasn’t listening. For an awkward moment he just stood there, hoping to get a response. He felt terrible. He walked inside and sat down in a corner, wondering what he had done. Or maybe, she was upset over something else. But what? Not knowing the answer was a torture in itself.
The main door opened and in walked the principal, Mr. A. P. Lawrence, or Lorry. He was in his early fifties, tall and fat with thick, grey hair which was always perfectly oiled and combed. He was famous for making them wait for any of the school’s co-curricular activities, sometimes for hours. The boys attributed his delays to his thick hair - it would take anyone hours to oil and comb it as perfectly as he did. Rohan stood up and so did everyone else. Mrs. Sharma walked in right behind him. The balcony door opened and Chandni came inside too. Mr. Lawrence greeted Anjali and spoke to the cast. They performed the first scene in which Dorothy’s house is blown away by a tornado and she finds herself in the strange Land of Oz.
Mr. Lawrence did not speak at all. The performance was crude, though Chandni did manage to bring some life into it. Rohan did not blame them. There was no prop or light effects and all interesting characters like the Cowardly Lion or the Scarecrow were not in the first scene. Mr. Lawrence stood up and left as soon as it was over. “How are you doing, Mr. Agarwal?” he asked on his way out.
“I am fine, Sir,” Rohan replied.
“See me in my office tonight.” And he was gone.
Rohan sat down. What had he been called for? He was certain that it was regarding the play, yet, a small part of him, raised and shaped by the guilt of all the rules he had broken, grew restless. Had the authorities realised that the papers had been…
“I’m sorry!”
Rohan looked up. Chandni was standing in front of him. He jumped to his feet, knocking chairs all around him. “No. It’s fine,” he replied immediately.
“I am really sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. I was a bit… angry, and …”
“No. No. It’s fine.” He knew he sounded stupid, but it was all he could think of.
“What did the principal say?” she changed the subject and started walking towards the stage.
Rohan followed. “He called me to his office. Do you know why?” He kept his eyes on the stage, not daring to look at her.
“He might ask you if you are ready for night practices.”
“Really?” Rohan could not hide his excitement. Finally!
“Can you ask him a question for me?” Chandni asked as they reached the front row.
“Yes?”
“Ask him why are we doing this play? I mean, we have put up much more mature plays than this! This one is for the Junior Dramatics Society.”
She was right. In the last few years, the Dramatics Society had given performances that could bring professionals down to their knees. He had earlier assumed that to give a mature performance they needed mature actors, but since seniors were not involved, they had to compromise. “Sure,” he replied.
“Here!” she sat down and offered him a chocolate.
Rohan blushed. He had been thinking if it would be all right to sit next to her. He now assumed it would be safe. And just as he raised his hands…
“Thanks!” Surbhi took it from Chandni and sat down next to her. Rohan eyed the empty seat on the other side.
“Chandni?” Anjali called out. “Come up on stage. Draw the curtains. Akshay? Draw the curtains!”
Chandni shrugged and climbed onto the stage while Rohan stood glued to the spot, his hand still raised.
“Everyone ready?” Anjali thumped down the stage. “Rohan, tell Ayush I will kick him out if he doesn’t show up tomorrow. Ready now? Okay. Draw the curtains!”
The curtains didn’t budge.
“Akshay? Where are you? I said draw the curtains!”
*
Rohan knocked at the principal’s door and waited.
“Come in.”
He settled his tie and went inside. “Good evening, Sir!”
“Good evening.” Mr. Lawrence was sitting casually behind a vast, elegant desk. A young man in a track-suit was seated facing him. The man was tall, fair and well-built. He stood up and walked over to a big window. Dark chains of distant mountains slept under the silvery moon. And somewhere on those mountains grew numerous small villages that came into existence only because of the twinkling of their lights, a few here and a few there.
“Good evening!” Rohan greeted the young man, who nodded in return.
“Is your casting final, Mr. Agarwal?” asked the principal.
“Yes, Sir.”
“No more changes required?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then, is your team ready for night practices?” he asked leaning on his desk.
“Yes, Sir.” Rohan fought back a smile.
“If you are being given a privilege, you must not misuse it. Can you assure me that you will devote this time to hard work if I grant you this privilege?”
“Yes, Sir. We have memorized all our dialogues and will be focusing on our acting from now,” Rohan replied in a sincere tone.
Mr. Lawrence studied him for a moment. “Very well, then. Hand over the list of students to your warden and the mess incharge. I will inform them as well. Is there anything else you need?”
“Yes, Sir. We will need props and costumes. And also, there are plenty of songs in the play. We will need a choir for that…”
“Yes, yes…” Mr. Lawrence cut in between. He threw a glance at the man waiting by the window. “One minute, Harry!”
“Take all your time!” Harry replied in a thick British accent.
“We are still working on the venue. The props will be designed once we have decided on it. I will send you to have a look before we finalize. Meanwhile, you can find some old props in the Junior School attic. This is not the first time we are doing this play. The choir and costumes will be arranged. Is there anything else?”
“Yes, Sir.” Rohan knew it was not the right time, but he had to ask. “Why are we doing this play? We have done many, more mature, plays in the past. We have plenty of time…” Rohan cut short. Mr. Lawrence was staring coldly at him.
“Good night, Mr. Agarwal.”
Wrong time! “Good night, Sir.” He replied and hurriedly left the room.
*
The first night practice was four days away. Rohan was attending his Maths class and had already been corrected twice to pay attention. He found it hard to focus on the board. There was so much to think about besides the applications of derivatives. He was not alone. Nisha and Manav giggled every time their eyes met. Ayush was only concerned about exclusion of the pl
ay party from final examinations and kept coaxing him to talk to the principal. But Rohan wanted to take it slow. He had handed the list of students to various authorities and had asked Mr. Bedi, the librarian, for another show. Mr. Bedi denied all access to the A.V. Room. (“Miserable creatures!” he murmured in his red suit.) Rohan had to convince him that he would surely help him find his culprits to get his permission; though the culprits had already been rewarded by the Library Prefect! He then made the entire crew, including the back-stage helpers, watch the movie every day.
During one such show, he unexpectedly came face to face with Mr. Pandey who had brought juniors for a movie on Julius Caesar. “Play, right?” he said, standing stiffly in a smart, grey blazer. “No wonder your marks are rolling down the hill!”
“Marks?” There was no excuse to get low marks in the Unit Tests.
“You better start working hard, Mr. Agarwal!” Mr. Pandey glared at him. “How did your class test go?”
“What class test?” Rohan asked, and then he remembered. The surprise class test!
“Oh! Did I forget to tell you? There will be a surprise test next week. Tell your class. And I want to hear no excuses!”
Eventually, the day of the first night practice arrived. It was 8:00 PM and while the entire school sat in their respective classrooms doing their assignments, Rohan stood in the balcony of the Auditorium, watching the sparkling stars spread across the sky. A crescent moon hung above the dark mountain across the Field. He shivered in the cold night, thoroughly enjoying it. There was a movement at the door as a junior came to call him in. Chandni and Anjali were arguing about something. Ayush had climbed into a small cabin at the back of the hall and was playing with the lights.
“Okay, everyone,” Anjali announced, “Act I, Scene I…”
The lights went out. It was pitch dark. Someone hissed. There was a nervous laughter.
“Do not meddle with the lights!” Anjali shouted at Ayush.
The lights came back.
“Get ready!” Anjali continued. “Take positions. Turn on the stage lights! Please!” The stage went blood red. “What is this?” The lights went off again; and then, she found herself in the centre of a spotlight. “Stop fooling around!” she screamed.
