by Milind Bokil
Surya’s father looked at Surya for a while and suddenly burst out crying. ‘Saheb, what can I tell you?’ he said. ‘I lost my mind last night. I did not know what to do. Luckily his mother stepped in, else I might have killed him.’
‘Please pull yourself together. Things cannot be resolved with physical punishment alone.’
‘He is my only son,’ Surya’s father said, wiping his tears. ‘I never went to school. Should he not study sincerely? But look at his antics!’
‘He will learn to study,’ Baba said. ‘But don’t beat him up unnecessarily. Else you will lose him forever. Go, both of you. And go to your class directly, okay?’
They left. Kevda and her father came out. She was wearing her school uniform but was not carrying her books. We ignored her. We went and sat down in the wooded area. The morning batch was yet to get over. The shade felt cool. We both sat there for a while without saying a word.
‘Did you get a lot of beating?’ I asked. ‘What did you tell your father?’
‘He was out to kill me,’ Surya said. ‘I went home and told him that he had been asked to come to school. That’s it! He started beating me up. He stopped when a customer came to buy some sand. I thought I had a lucky escape, but he beat me up again at night.’
I inspected his hands and feet. He must have been in great pain. He had red marks all over his arms and legs.
‘He beat me with whatever he could lay his hands on,’ Surya said. ‘First he hit me with his hands and then with his belt. Then he picked up a stick and then a bamboo. Aai intervened, but she too got a few kicks. Luckily kaka came in and saved both of us. I was lucky not to have broken any bones.’
I did not know what to say. There was a bitter taste in my mouth. The whole thing had turned ugly.
‘What will Appa do now?’ Surya asked.
‘Nothing. What else is there to do now?’
‘Won’t he throw us out of school?’
‘Tchah! Nothing of that sort.’
‘Ichibhana, why did Kevda’s father get so angry?’
I had no answer. He had asked a valid question, but I had no way of knowing why.
‘I am confused. I don’t know what mistake we made, Ichibhana? We had just asked her. What is wrong with asking?’
I had no answer to his question. He was absolutely right. But there was no way to know a girl’s mind. We sat there for a while, lost in our own thoughts. I felt sad for Surya. I could see the school boys on the ground now, but I did not feel like mingling with them. I did not feel like attending classes either. But there was no choice. It was sad that this had to happen at the fag end of the year. A deep sense of sadness filled me.
The morning batch got over. The boys had already gone into the classrooms. We did not feel like getting up.
‘I don’t feel like attending school today,’ Surya said. ‘I wish I could lie down here.’
I felt the same but knew it was not possible. All the teachers would be looking out for us. And if we bunked, that would be the end of it.
The bell rang and we reluctantly stood up, dusting our trousers.
Surya said, ‘Ichibhana, your advice turned out to be expensive.’
I felt a lump in my throat.
We knew what to expect in the class. Most of the boys were shocked to see Surya’s condition. Paranjpe ma’am came in and the boys did not get a chance to talk. The girls saw him and began whispering amongst themselves. Shirodkar too joined them. She turned back to glance and our eyes met briefly. I thought she wanted to ascertain whether I too had been beaten up. But I could see no hint of recognition in her eyes. Surya sat hiding behind the boys, but ma’am spotted him when she saw the girls turning back to look at him. She asked, ‘What happened? Did you have a fight?’ The poor soul had no idea what Surya had gone through.
Surya had no answer. He sat there with his head down. Bendre ma’am came in next. All the teachers asked the same question of Surya. Later, during the mid-break, they must have got the details in the staff room. Zende sir came near him to inspect the wounds but did not comment.
The next few classes continued as usual, but our mind was elsewhere. Everything seemed lost—like a painting spoilt when you spill water on it accidentally. Earlier we used to be relaxed in the class. No one would dare answer back at us. But now we felt like hiding our faces. Zende sir cracked some jokes and Halbe sir, as usual, lost track of himself trying to solve some equations, but we did not feel like laughing. I sat there like a criminal, trying to avoid the teachers. I could see the hills beyond the playground, but they seemed to have taken on a dull, grey haze, like a rainless cloud. I was dreading the mid-break. All the boys would surround us and bombard us with umpteen questions. Guys like Bibikar, Ghasu Gokhale and Teredesai would express false sympathies but would be secretly happy about our pathetic state. They would be pleased that we had been taught a lesson. We went and sat in the wooded area but did not enjoy sitting there. Surya started describing the way his father beat him up, but no one encouraged him to continue. I was eager to go back to the class so that I could escape talking to anyone. I somehow managed to spend the next few hours and then walked back home through the paddy fields. I realized that Chitre had not spoken a word to me on his own and that Shirodkar had not once glanced at me.
When I reached home I found that Aaisaheb had kept the tea and biscuits ready on the table. Ambabai had gone off somewhere. Baba was not there. Aaisaheb seemed to be in a decent mood. Baba must have told her everything. He must have asked her not to trouble me any more. She did not say anything while I finished my tea but then stood up saying,
‘Take your books and get down to studying right away. You don’t have tuition, isn’t it? There is no need to go out anywhere. Study till dinner time, understood?’
She did not seem angry, but her tone prevented me from saying anything. I wanted to step out and walk around Shirodkar’s house on the pretext of meeting Chitre. But I dropped the idea. Luckily Aaisaheb had not told me which subject to study. I put my head down keeping the History book open. I could not concentrate. Nikam kaka’s TV was blaring away at full volume. But then Napoleon took the better of me and I concentrated on the task at hand.
School ran for another week. There was no question of going to the adda now. Surya’s father had locked the room upstairs and the teacher who had taken the lower room on rent had now started taking tuitions there. We walked on our own to school without any pranks on the way. Chitre and Phawdya often came in together. We had the Scouts’ exam on Saturday. The Guides’ had their exams too on the same day, but the girls sat far away.
The teachers completed their syllabus and started revisions. Appa announced a free period once and made the entire school sing songs dedicated to Emergency. Then he gave us the usual lecture on how we should focus on our studies because the exams were approaching. It was the last period and everyone was bored. So we tolerated it in silence. The tension of the impending exams was evident. The birdies were spending the mid-breaks immersed in textbooks. Shirodkar continued to be indifferent. No one played any pranks. We had decided to spend the rest of the days quietly.
On the last day of school, I stepped out of home on an excuse to visit Chitre. I reached the lane leading to Shirodkar’s house and walked about slowly. The window in her verandah was open, but I could not see anyone. I was taking another round when I saw Sandeep. He had probably come out to collect some stones. But he did not look at the gate. For a moment I thought of visiting them. After all, I had already been there once. No one would object and I would be able to meet her. I could spend some time talking to her mother even if Shirodkar was not there. I was sure she would not have mentioned the Kevda episode to anyone at home. But I could not get myself to open the gate and step in. My heart was beating wildly and the hollow in my stomach grew. I had to meet her—at least once before the exams. I had to tell her what exactly had happened—that I was not at fault. But I could not see her. I walked up and down her lane a few times and, when darkness fell, I walked back h
ome.
School was over and I was under the constant supervision of Aaisaheb and Ambabai. They would not allow me to leave the house. I had the permission to sit in the verandah in the evenings. But there was no one to play with. Nikam kaka’s TV would be on all the time, which I would watch for a while. But I was not comfortable sitting in that crowd. KT and Vijay would have visitors. They held their meeting once, but they did not call me. Ambabai would be on guard after returning from college and Aaisaheb would take charge of me in the morning. She had decided to stay put and had stopped going out, except to buy vegetables in the evening.
I was unable to concentrate on the first day. But then I realized that there was no escaping this and I might as well concentrate on my studies. I would be able to extricate myself from their grip only if I secured a rank among the top five. They would not spare me if I got low marks and my rank slipped. They would not only change my school but put me under house arrest. I would be tortured to death. In any case, it was just a matter of another year. I need not bother about anyone once I clear class ten. I decided not to think of Shirodkar. Let her not speak to me. I would now focus on getting my rank. If possible, I would try for the first rank. It would put Bibikar and Ghasu Gokhale back in their place. I would collect my results proudly, and then she would be forced to look at me. It is said that fame is the fragrance of heroic deeds, isn’t it? Let me try that!
That spurred me on. I was reminded of a poem we had in school last year—‘a lone star to reach for and fire below the feet.’ I focused my attention on nothing but my studies. I would wake up in the morning and immediately sit down to study. I did not ask for tea or breakfast or lunch. I had forgotten everything—Baba, Aaisaheb, Ambabai, the people in the building, Surya, Phawdya, Chitre—even Shirodkar. My focus was to revise one chapter after another—whether Napoleon or Magna Carta. I was lost in the different types of winds in Geography and the process of making Hydrogen Sulphide in Chemistry. Archimedes and Newton gave me company while various insects fascinated me in Biology. I was engrossed in linear equations, Trigonometry and Algebra.
The examinations began. We had a paper each day between eleven and two. We had the eighth standard children for company. Shirodkar was not in my room. We had a few girls like Achrekar, Dongre, and Ambekar, who had come in only to appear for the exams. I was hoping to meet and wish her luck for the exams, but she was with other girls in the next room and I dared not speak to her in their presence. Mirikar came in to wish Achrekar and, while going out, she wished Bibikar too. Ghasu Gokhale was busy poring into his book, so she did not speak to him. She would have wished me too, but I avoided her eyes. Surya sat in the row ahead of me, so there was no question of him anything during the exams. Phawdya was in the rows behind me, but he did not bother me. At the most, he would ask for answers to ‘match the following’. Chitre was in the same row as Surya, but it was upto him to help.
I attacked the paper the moment the teacher handed it to us. Usually, I was the first person to ask for supplements. In fact, Ghasu Gokhale and Bibikar gave me a surprised look, seeing me ask for the additional sheets so early in the hour. I would have enjoyed writing the paper had Shirodkar been in our class. The Chemistry and Physics papers were a bit tough and so was Geometry. Hindi was difficult, but on the whole the exams went off well. At home, I would be asked the same question every day and I would say, ‘I have done well’. Obviously, they would not believe me, but I did not care.
We would rush home after every paper. But, as per our ritual, we did meet after the last exam. No one refused Bhaishetye when he joined in.
‘I am not sure of my performance,’ Phawdya said the moment we sat down. ‘I got screwed in Algebra and Geometry.’
‘Me too,’ Harishchandra said.
‘I am dead in History,’ Santya said.
‘And I am dead in everything,’ Surya said.
‘Chemistry was a little tough,’ I said in order to add to the conversation.
‘Joshi, saale, you had no time to look around. You were scribbling away with your head down,’ Surya said. ‘Looks like you had been nicely bambooed at home.’
I kept quiet and did not answer.
‘Aai has warned me—if I fail I will have to quit school,’ Phawdya said. ‘I will have to sit at the shop then. We have been given a permanent shed in the vegetable market now.’
‘Good for you,’ Surya said. ‘My dad is forcing me to attend school at least until the tenth standard. Even if I fail, he will not allow me to quit.’
‘My dad does not bother at all,’ Santya said. ‘They are planning to marry off Sundri next month.’
‘Sundri’s wedding?’ I asked.
‘You bet! I will invite all of you. You will get to eat some mutton. Joshi, will you eat?’
‘I will eat Joshi’s share,’ Surya said. ‘Just ensure that we are invited.’
‘Naru mama is getting married too,’ I said. ‘We are leaving next week.’
‘Aila, so he is finally getting married, is it?’ Phawdya said. ‘Are we not invited?’
‘Why do you need a formal invitation?’
‘Who are the teachers next year, yaar?’ Harishchandra asked.
‘Next year? Kendalkar will surely take Maths,’ Chitre surmised. ‘And Bendre, English.’
‘We are screwed, bhenchod,’ Surya said.
‘What about Zende sir?’ Harishchandra asked.
‘Zende sir will be there,’ Surya said. ‘But what can he do alone? Manjrekar sir is gone.’
‘And that pain-in-the-neck Prem Chopra will be there. Kendalkar sir is tolerable, but Prem Chopra is bad news.’
‘We won’t have Rajguru sir. No Drawing classes next year.’
‘What about Paranjpe ma’am? ‘Surya asked. ‘Hope she’s there; at least something to look forward to.’
‘We have all the difficult teachers next year,’ Chitre said. ‘Appa—to start with.’
‘Which classroom are we being allotted?’ Santya asked. ‘Hope not that bloody caged one inside.’
‘Exactly that,’ I said. ‘The current Ten-B is there. One cannot see anything outside from it.’
‘Next year is going to be a pain in the ass, saala,’ Phawdya said. ‘Tenth! Each and everyone will be sitting on our heads.’
We were relaxed as the exams were over now, but the very thought of the next year was suffocating. But I was fine. Until the time Shirodkar was around, I did not care whether the classes were held here or in Andamans!
‘Screw the next year,’ Surya said. ‘First we have to clear this year. Hey, how many subjects are we allowed to fail in, without losing the whole year?’
‘Three,’ Chitre answered. ‘I think they should promote everyone to tenth standard. We have studied for ten years. Is that not enough? Whoever wants to go ahead can appear for the exams.’
‘I agree, Ichibhana,’ Surya added.
‘But who is going to listen to us?’ Phawdya asked. ‘They don’t run schools based on our recommendations.’
‘You start a school when you grow up,’ Santya advised. ‘You can take Chitre as an advisor.’
That broke the tension. We all laughed out loud. Then Surya started singing one of his ribald songs and Santya joined in. We asked Bhaishetye to recount his tales of Bhaween, and Phawdya later sang an abhang. The atmosphere was gay and light. Time, like the rapidly receding sunlight, flew without notice.
Ambabai and Aaisaheb had no excuse to hold me back at home now that the exams were over. Besides they got busy with the preparations for Naru mama’s wedding. Luckily Aaisaheb was on the groom’s side, so the responsibilities were fewer. She would leave five or six days in advance. At first, I was not keen to accompany her. I had already made my plans for those days. It was an ideal time to visit Shirodkar, but ever since Surya’s prank, I had decided to take it easy. A good rank in the exams was sure to make things easier for me. I had the entire month of May to myself. Aaisaheb would leave within a few days and the results would be announced by the end of
the month. So I changed my mind and decided to accompany her. Naru mama’s company was fun and I had Ashok, Gaikwad’s son, as a companion. There was a sugar factory there and, adjacent to the professor’s colony, there were sugarcane fields.
I had, of course, not stopped going over to Shirodkar’s lane. The very first day I spotted Misal and quickly made up the excuse of coming over to meet him. He had come out to buy some groceries and I had to accompany him to the shop. I spent a little time with him and then returned home. The next day, I walked through the lane to find no activity around the house. They were, in all likelihood, not at home. Another day, I spotted her walking the verandah and was tempted to visit them but somehow could not get myself to do so. I would not have minded meeting her outside. But the opportunity never arose.
I visited Chitre a few times and once Phawdya’s stall too. Chitre seemed very quiet. He told me that Kevda’s father had decided to put her in a different school. Chitre’s mother was planning to move to Bandra near their mavshi’s house. It would suit her as her office was much closer from Bandra. The arguments between his parents continued and her mother had made up her mind to move to Bandra irrespective of whether Chitre’s father joined them or not. Chitre had spoken to Devaki about his mother and she had fired her. Chitre seemed a little uncertain of his future.
That day, while returning from Chitre’s house, I met KT, Ashok and Vijay at the Gyanjyoti library. They had another friend with them. They seemed to be waiting for someone. It was not yet dark and I could see the road clearly. They stood in one corner. I saw them and stopped.
‘What, Mukund? Returning from your usual bird watching?’ Vijay asked.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘What are you guys doing here?’
‘The same,’ he said, laughing. ‘There is lots to see here.’
‘Are your exams over?’ KT asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Then what’s the plan?’
‘We have to go for Naru mama’s wedding,’ I said.
