by Milind Bokil
Ambabai had put on her sandals. She discarded them now, making a face. Served her right! She had been acting oversmart these days. To add insult to injury, I thumbed my nose at her before going out.
I went upstairs. Their house was full. They had invited a lot of people from outside. A large number of chappals and shoes lay outside the door. I looked at the crowd. There was no one from our building. They were all outsiders. Some of the women had bob-cut. I was about to go back when KT spotted me and said, ‘Come, Mukund. Come and sit next to me.’
I then realized that they were actually holding a meeting. They had performed the puja earlier, but in reality they were holding a meeting to discuss the Emergency. Vijay clarified that they were not allowed to hold a meeting openly, hence the ploy. He then reeled out statistics of the number of people arrested all over the country. He spoke about how people were not allowed freedom of speech and how stacks of magazines were being confiscated. The room was crowded, but I was enjoying the discussion. Nikam kaka came in and quickly realized that a meeting was in progress. He took the prasad, but when Vijay requested him to sit down he refused, asking them to carry on. He cautioned them to be careful.
I came down after nearly three quarters of an hour. Aaisaheb asked, the moment I stepped in, ‘What took you so long?’
‘Aai, they were singing songs and cracking jokes,’ I said. ‘Real good jokes. It was fun.’
She did not question me further. Of course, I was prepared to recount a few jokes from the many Chitre had told me.
I was pleasantly surprised to see Naru mama sprawled on the cot when I came back from school the next day. He had not sent a letter nor called up Baba’s office. But I was very happy to see him. I had so much to tell him and many things to ask.
‘Arre! Naru mama!’ I exclaimed.
‘You bet!’ he said, punching me lightly on my stomach. ‘See! Here I am!’
‘Damn good! Hope you are going to stay for a while?’
‘He is not staying,’ Aaisaheb said. ‘It’s a flying visit.’
‘Mama is getting married,’ Ambabai added.
‘Don’t tell me!’ I said. ‘Who is she?’
Naru mama did not answer. A smile played on his lips.
‘Tell me please, Naru mama,’ I repeated.
He did not reply but pointed towards the table.
‘Look at this photo here,’ Aaisaheb said. ‘Take it carefully. There is a horoscope along with the photograph.’
I eagerly opened the envelope but was disappointed to find that the girl wore a big bindi on her forehead. She looked like one of our many relatives. She was quite ordinary to look at, nothing to write home about.
‘So? How do you find your mami?’ Aaisaheb asked.
‘Nice,’ I said. I knew the correct things to say. ‘But what is her name?’
‘See the horoscope. It is mentioned there,’ Ambabai said.
I unfolded the paper containing the horoscope and saw that there was a host of information in it, along with the star sign, date of birth etcetera, and the name—Pratibha Ramchandra Kulkarni.
I felt cheated and was about to ask Naru mama whatever happened to his plans of marrying a Christian girl, but I kept quiet in Aaisaheb’s presence. I soon got the other details. The marriage was not fixed yet. The girl lived near Naru mama’s town. He had liked her and their horoscopes had matched, but the marriage would not be fixed without Aaisaheb’s permission. Aaisaheb and Naru mama would visit the place to meet the bride’s family. Aaisaheb would return after two days. ‘He has finalized everything. He just needs me to give the official stamp of approval,’ I heard Aaisaheb telling Baba that evening.
I bunked the tuition hoping to spend time with Naru mama, but in vain. Aaisaheb insisted on buying a saree for Aaji and she had to shop for other things. Ambabai too joined the bandwagon. Naru mama wanted me to come along. We finally left after Baba returned from office and had had his cup of tea. Aaisaheb decided to buy a saree for the prospective bride in advance in case things progressed well at the meeting. We then made the customary visit to Pethe ice-cream parlour. Aaisaheb went into the bangles shop next door and I got a chance to ask Naru mama, ‘Naru mama, you were to marry a Christian girl— what happened?’
He smiled and did not reply. After a moment he said, ‘That’s what my plan was. But what to do, I found her first!’
I did not believe him but had no other option than to keep quiet.
Aaisaheb left the next day and returned after finalizing everything. The wedding was fixed for a date after my final exams.
I decided to meet Shirodkar the day Aaisaheb left with Naru mama. Luckily, Mande and Juvekar were both absent that day. I did not sit next to Pingle but on the last row so that I could slip away the moment the class got over. I walked briskly in the direction of Shirodkar’s house and went and stood near Dedhiya Kirana Store.
She came in early as there were no friends to chat with. We did not stop and chat near the grocery but continued walking and then taking a turn into another lane, stood near the peepal tree.
‘Did Juvekar not come today?’ I asked.
‘No. It seems she’s unwell.’
‘Mande too did not come, I believe.’
‘I don’t know why.’
‘Good that they both were absent.’
She merely smiled in reply. I was quiet for a while, but I knew what I had to discuss. The Ambekar episode was a huge one to talk about.
‘It was sad for Manjrekar sir, no?’ I asked.
She nodded wordlessly.
‘That Ambekar is amazing!’ I said sarcastically. ‘Why did she have to take sleeping pills?’
She look uncomfortable. ‘We should not stand here and chat.’
‘Then where shall we go?’
‘Nowhere,’ she said. ‘I will go home now.’
She said so but did not move. I realized that I had made a mistake by talking about Ambekar. No girl in the class was comfortable talking about her. I changed the topic.
‘Naru mama’s marriage has been fixed,’ I said and then realized that she may not know who Naru mama is.
‘My Naru mama is a bindaas character, you know,’ I said. ‘He teaches English in a college but is like a friend to me.’
‘Aiyaa, really?’ she said. ‘Where will the wedding happen?’
‘In his town.’ I said. ‘After the exams. We’ll go and stay in Aaji’s house. In fact, Naru mama wanted to marry a Christian girl, you know?’
‘Really? A Christian?’
‘You bet! He had planned so but could not somehow manage it. He then found someone from our caste.’
I had deliberately stressed on the caste factor hoping she would get the hint. It was not going to be smooth sailing for us. But she just nodded her head. I was struggling to find things to talk about.
‘What shall we do going forward?’ I asked.
I had expected her to respond in her usual manner asking ‘What do you mean?’, and I would be at my wits’ end to explain. But she said nothing and simply looked at me. She then started to look the other way, without saying a word.
It was getting dark and the lane was silent. There was no sound either, of a radio or any children playing. The lamp at the end of the lane burnt while darkness crept up slowly. The peepal tree stood still without a leaf moving. Everything stood still.
‘Tell me,’ I urged her.
‘What do you mean?’ her voice took on a serious tone.
I realized that the stillness had changed to something deeper. The tension in the air was palpable.
‘I mean, in future,‘ I repeated.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, looking down at the ground.
I realized that she was not avoiding my question; she genuinely did not know the answer. The feeling of emptiness in the pit of my stomach grew deeper and my heart began to throb hard. The darkness around us seemed to be getting darker. Suddenly, a deep sense of anger enveloped me. I was angry at the world, angry at our town, my school, Appa,
Bendre, Ambekar—even Manjrekar sir! And then a strange fear gripped.
She did not stay for long. Using the excuse of someone entering the lane, she briskly walked away in the direction of her house. I wanted to say we shall meet at the same place the next day, but it was too late. She had already left.
I walked back home slowly, thinking of the question I had asked. I realized that the world was a difficult place. It had its own rules; and one had to follow them if one had to live in it. The world was huge and I was too small to challenge it.
I sized up the situation with a cool head. I had to clear class ten first. I could then leave home and take up any job. Naru mama says if one is willing one can get any job. I could take up a job and then join night school to pass class twelve. I could then continue higher studies. Shirodkar would continue with her studies as usual. It was a question of five or six years, seven at the most. And no one can stop you once you are eighteen.
I could depend on people like KT and Vijay for help. I could take up a room or share it with some friend. I remembered my kaka’s son Prakash had done something similar. He did not frequent our house much, but we had heard of his leaving home. He was not keen on studies and wanted to pursue theatre. When his family objected, he left home and took up residence in a small room in Byculla. He was apparently doing fine now. He had once sent us a few passes for his play. I too would have to take the same route. There was no choice.
I enquired about night school next. It was in Vakhar lane. The board said, Adarsh Night School. A yellow lamp burnt brightly. The office was in the verandah and a fat man sporting a huge moustache sat behind a desk. The board indicated he was the principal. He was probably responsible for everything. I did not see anyone else there.The wall behind the desk was adorned with photographs of national leaders.
I stood before him when he looked up from the papers he seemed to be studying.
‘I wanted to enquire regarding the night school,’ I said. ‘I have a cousin who is coming over from the village. I am enquiring on his behalf.’
‘What is your name?’
I told him.
‘Which school?’
‘Warhadkar High School.’
‘Which class?’
‘Ninth.’
‘Where do you stay?’
‘Near Dhaparewadi. Kudalkar chawl.’
‘Achha. Near Majgaonkar dispensary, is it?’
‘Yes,’ I said, a little surprised. He seemed to know every lane in town.
‘Who wants to attend night school?’
‘My cousin from the village.’
‘Then get him here,’ he said, getting back to his papers.
‘He is not here at the moment.’
‘Get him when he comes,’ he said. ‘Now you may go.’
‘Do you have eleventh science here?’ I persisted.
He did not answer but pointed to a board in the room. It said in bold letters—Arts and Commerce only. There were other instructions like the school starting at seven pm and attendance being compulsory, prior permission needed for taking leave etcetera. I stood there reading the board for a few minutes and then left.
There were no Science classes here and it was unlikely this moustachioed fellow would take me even if I opted for Commerce. There was only one night school in town. But then if I went over to Mumbai, there would be many options. I would cross the bridge when I came to it. I decided that for now I needed to focus on passing class ten.
The year was coming to an end and most of the syllabus was over. Bendre ma’am had, in fact, started revising the chapters. More importantly, Halbe sir had completed his Geometry and Algebra portion. A few experiments in Physics remained, but they were easy. The matriculation exams would begin from twelfth of March, but luckily our school was not an examination centre. Subhash and Tope are designated centres each year and they have to suspend classes during that time.
The tenth standard guys were not attending school these days. The school seemed a little empty without them. There was a palpable tension across town. It happens each year during the exam time. There is invariably someone or the other appearing for the exam known to each person and the only discussion in town is centred around exams. There is no disturbance during that period. The theatres don’t dare put up a good movie during that time. The atmosphere in school is ominous.
Surya’s building was near completion now. They had painted the inside walls and were now painting the exterior. A brick wall had come up around the building. The building looked bright and shiny, but it was no fun sitting there now. The earlier damp, cool and dark atmosphere was long gone. The labourer couple had moved away and the shack was occupied by a watchman, presumably from the same group. The ground floor was likely to be occupied soon and the plumber was busy fitting the taps.
Surya’s father had not asked us to move out yet. In fact, Surya mentioned once that his father had designated two rooms on the second floor for us, so that we may use them for our studies in tenth standard. It was a good idea. But we had to clear ninth first! There was no point in joint studies as Phawdya and Surya would while away their time, not allowing anyone to study. This place was good to hang out—as we had for a whole year—but not for studies.
The tuition classes too were likely to end soon. Everyone winds up their activities once the matriculation examination begins. I wondered where I would meet Shirodkar after this. In class ten in the coming year, we would be swamped with tuition classes in all our free time. In fact, some of the classes start in the summer holidays itself! I was not against classes now. I did not mind joining tuitions next year. Ambabai had made it clear that I should not continue with Deshmane sir ’s classes next year. Someone had suggested Chaitanya classes. But I had decided—I would join the same class as Shirodkars. And if Chaitanya was good, I would ask her to join the same. That’s it! Then I could spend the whole day at tuition centres; even whole nights, if required.
There was a discussion on which teacher would teach what subject next year. We had no favourites other than Zende sir. Bendre would continue with English and we wondered whether Halbe sir or Kendalkar sir would teach Maths. We would be dead if it were to be the latter. Pethkar ma’am would continue with Social Science while Chemistry would be taught by the boring and oversmart Prem Chopra. We had heard that Appa would take Hindi. So we could forget about fun in that period. Phawdya did not mind Paranjpe ma’am teaching us Marathi so long as she continued wearing sleeveless blouses. All of us agreed with him. Any teacher was fine so long as she wore sleeveless! Surya thought it was a nice way to begin the day.
The paddy fields were barren and dry now. The grass had been grazed upon by the cows and they too were nowhere to be seen. There was a bit of enthusiasm while the England team played, but now, with the exams looming, the children playing cricket too had vanished. The only greenery left was in the adjoining woods.
But then soon Shankar’s father would come over in the summer holidays to start tilling the fields. He would collect the dry twigs and leaves and burn them in one corner of the field. The planting would start in the rainy season. The fields would be full of rain water then. It was a sight to behold. The smell of ice-candy and the cool breeze were intoxicating. If there was heaven on earth, it was here, it was here, it was here! I needed to get Shirodkar here next year, even if it means bunking school. My favourite rock had a big flat space enough for both of us to sit on. We could sit there the whole day without getting bored.
The playground too would be green and beautiful. I would try and grab a seat near the door. But I was not sure of the classroom being allotted to us. Currently tenth standard was in a good room at the corner of the school building, and with a great view. One could see the woods from there. We would be dead if we were to be allotted the other room inside. It is behind the iron railing. The passage is busy with someone or the other constantly walking by. I wished we would get a room facing the playground. I would spend time watching the lovely hills beyond Sonarpada outside and t
he beautiful Shirodkar inside! Whether I was taught Maths or Physics would be irrelevant. I would not be worried about either. The school could go on forever.
That day Nikam kaka bought a television. We were aware of its impending arrival because we had seen the antenna being installed the previous day. It was a black-and-white TV and everyone gathered to see the evening news. Nikam kaka has a lot of furniture in his room, but people managed to fit in. Ponkshe kaka and Sukhtankar kaka grabbed the two chairs while Shenvi and Barve kaka occupied the cot. The children sat right in the front along with Upasni aaji. KT and Vijay stood outside the door but came in when the news began. I could see the TV sitting on the edge of the sofa. Nikam kaka stood with his back to the wall while kaku watched it standing near the inner door. She was able to hear the news but not see it.
We watched the news followed by announcements for the next day’s programmes. There was a lot of static disturbance along with the black horizontal lines constantly running by the screen. But the sound quality was good. Chayageet was the next programme. By then the Mayekar couple, Aai-Baba, Ambabai, and many of the other residents had joined in. Nikam kaka had to slide the window curtain, allowing the people standing outside to get a glimpse. Mayekar kaka asked me to keep my head low and I developed a crick in my neck as a result.
As expected, there were no games that evening. The Nikams were carrom lovers, but they did not bring out the board from that day onwards. Kiran got addicted to the television. The crowds continued to gather each evening. There was a musical programme on Saturday while Sunday evenings was movie time. No one was interested in playing games any more.
Baba went in the first day. Nikam kaka welcomed him with ‘Come in, come in, Joshisaheb!’ Baba was not interested in watching TV, but he must have gone not finding any partners for chess. Sukhtankar kaka joined in for chess one day but left the moment he heard the ‘Dinu chhi sasubai’ serial being aired. ‘Joshi sahib, please excuse me,’ he said, getting up hurriedly. ‘I am willing to concede this board, but I cannot afford to miss my favourite serial.’
