So much for patience, he thought.
“Growth…ummm…uhhh.…uh….well.. It can be of two types!” Rishav thought on his feet.
“…physical and mental. It can relate to growth of human body or growth of a plant.” Wait, that makes it one. Wow, Rishav! So much for getting sweet revenge. Make a fool of yourself and get yourself kicked out of the school gates again.
The Economics teacher smiled. One could hardly tell if it was genuine or sarcastic.
Nonetheless since she didn’t stop him, he continued to say crap.
“You see ma’am,” he began. “Growth, it is unidirectional. But development is a sense of all round development, a relative positive or negative change in the initial position of a person. It can be betterment or….”
“Tch tch,” Rishav thought he heard the Eco teacher make that noise. She shook her head.
“Nevermind Rishav,” the Headmistress smiled. The smile was genuine. “Tell me, when do we say that a pair of linear equations does not have any solution?”
Cakewalk, babe, he thought. Math was one of his strong points. “When a1/a2 is equal to b1/b2 but is not equal to c1/c2. A1, b1, a2, b2 being the coefficients of the variables and c1, c2 being the constants in the given two equations”
Rishav waited to see her response in baited breath. Even in the board exam he hadn’t written in so much detail. Not even missing a single point. She nodded in approval. Relief washed over him.
He waited for a few moments to see if any more questions were going to be thrown towards him.
“Thank you, you may go,” said Meena Singhal looking at the boy.
Rishav Sen got up and wished the teachers a good day, just like an obedient well bred and trained puppy. He stepped out of the Principal’s cabin breathing a sigh of relief that it was finally over. Whatever the result, at least I gave my best shot,
That afternoon, when the list came out, the 26th name from the top was that of Rishav Sen. Despite the stammering and absolute bullshit he spoke inside, his not-so-successful interview didn’t override his achievements. After all, they couldn’t afford to not take in the youngest writer, could they?
TWO
The famed front loans sprang into action and this time it was to host the grand Farewell Dinner Party of the long serving Principal of DHS, Mrs.Singhal.
The party which was organized to bid Singhal goodbye came to be known for a number of firsts. For starters, the Chairman, A. Chandrashekhar gave a short speech, the loud Principal of Delhi High School International was low key, the mikes didn’t malfunction, there was enough food for the hunger stricken guests, the lawn seemed neat and tidy, no-one had a runny nose in the choir and the greatest of them all was the never before seen camaraderie between the Heads of DHS who sat in a close huddle probably gossiping or discussing the brand of cosmetics they use. What surely appeared to a person observing them from a distance seemed to be a moderated discussion on the threat Pakistan’s Nukes possessed in wake of the unstable Government that ran Pakistan.
“Meena, did you get to know about who’s replacing you?” Neeti asked with a lot of curiousness hoping against hope that she be promoted second time in 2 months and this time to become the Principal.
Madhuri popped in a question, “Is it anyone from our school?”
Veenu who was totally clueless about the topic of discussion and submerged in her own thoughts, decided to ask something as irrelevant as - “does my hair look bouncy today?”
None bothered to pay attention to the question of hers and instead decided to pay rapt attention to every syllable that came out of Singhal’s mouth. One could very well imagine how fruitful it would have been had all Heads (included: VP1, VP2 and HM) decided to pay half as much attention to Singhal while she was still running the show, it would have saved the typist the trouble of typing the retirement application and in turn would have allowed Singhal to fill her coffers for a few more years till she would retire gracefully in the truest terms.
Life was unfair, thought Singhal. And although she very well knew who’d be replacing her as the Principal; the bitch inside her prevented her from disclosing the name. Her much loved colleagues needed some thrill in life and that name would surely turn out to be a rude shock. And hence, Singhal got all the more reason to sit on the name.
“Might also be you, you know,” she looked at Dr.Madhuri.
“Or you maybe?” the very next instant her face was at Veenu, who clearly seemed disinterested in the post.
Singhal awakened the Socrates in her and started mumbling stuff like how anyone out of them would do justice to the job, how it really didn’t matter who was the Principal and how the school was like a family, etc. After all these years of displaying sanity, it seemed that it had deserted Singhal on the last night of hers at school.
Although most characters were around that evening when the champagne bottle was uncorked, one lady of eminence was indeed missing and she was Ms. Muskaan Kaur. In her mid forties, Muskaan Kaur was the princess-in-waiting to the throne of the Principal of Delhi High School. Conniving, shrewd and deadly; she possessed all qualities that would take her to the top. And those qualities weren’t just for show but for functioning as well. An ordinary teacher, six years old in school got to use the Principal’s standby car as a mode of transport – was anything else required to explicate the effect Muskaan had had on the crème de la crème of the Delhi High School Managing Trust? None questioned Muskaan’s authority. Those who dared, never were seen again to tell the tale. An itchy wart, she had everything in her to make the toughest of people grimace in pain. She never wanted positions of authority as she had enough influence already. What she did want was an unfelt presence in every person’s head. And she got that without effort, almost everytime.
“Where’s Muskaan? I don’t see her around.” the Vice-Chairman pointed out loud, picking up his fifth glass of champagne.
A senior management member’s interest in knowing the whereabouts of an ordinary (on paper) teacher sparked off a row of whispered conversations. And soon ‘Who’s the next Principal?’ was replaced with a simpler question ‘Where is Muskaan?’
*
Amidst the chaos that surrounded her absence, Muskaan Kaur unperturbed stood near the Ladies’ Washroom of the reception, waiting for her colleague to finish with her flushing. The door knob turned and out came a lady in her early fifties, short, fat and with toad like features. She had dark rings of kajal below her eyes which made her look pretty much like an over-fed raccoon.
“It’s dirty inside,” the lady said laying undue stress on the alphabet ‘S’.
“Is it?” Muskaan asked in a hoarse tone.
The lady nodded and walked ahead with Muskaan tottering behind.
“So what do you suggest Bindu? Should we make the announcement today?” Muskaan asked.
“No…” the lady called Bindu had a techno voice. It reminded one of the way Martians spoke in movies.
“…we need to wait,” she finished.
“Why not today? Everyone would be drunk by the end of the party. It would be ideal I tell you, do you have issues with Chandra? If yes, then I can speak to him.” Muskaan left no stone unturned in reminding Bindu about her proximity to the Chairman.
“It is not about Chairman Sir, it is not even about Meena, I don’t think this occasion warrants an announcement. What’s the harm in waiting?” Bindu inquired.
“Can’t you understand what kind of a demoralizing affect it can have on the likes of Veenu and Madhuri? See sense BK. I know you’ve been out of touch all these years, but you got to trust me on this,” she added a few words in a Punjabi dialect.
Bindu stopped surging ahead with the speed of an ostrich like she was a moment back. Now, she stood her ground, shifted her gaze towards Muskaan’s cold eyes.
“Are you sure?” Bindu asked, yet again laying unnecessary stress on the alphabet ‘S’.
Muskaan placed her hand on Bindu Kalsi’s arm, “Trust me. I won’t let you down.”
A few
hundred meters away, the conspicuous absence of Muskaan had become a hot topic of discussion. Mr. A. Chandrashekhar trotted towards the table where all the Heads of DHS were seated. On seeing him, Neeti Chopra instantly got up to offer her chair which he politely refused.
“Can I have a word with you Meena?” He asked. “…alone,” which was an immediate addition to his sentence.
Meena Singhal got up and both of them moved a few paces towards the counter where the bottles of mineral water were arranged.
“Meena, you have to make the announcement to your Staff before you leave. I don’t want rebellions here.” He coughed.
“As far as my knowledge was concerned, a couple of months back Sir, you were the very person who suggested that my continued presence would cause an internal revolt. What’s with the new Principal being a cause of that?” Singhal minced no words.
“It’s not that Meena. You are yet to realize why I am circumspect about our new Principal. You know na she’s been out for long and with experienced and senior hands like Madhuri around, it might get difficult for her to work if the Staff doesn’t take it down too well.”
“You mean to say, that you didn’t take any feelers from the staff before deciding upon who succeeds me?” Singhal was shocked.
“Of course I did. But two random staff members aren’t the representative of the entire teaching faculty. And besides, I had thought about your idea of promoting Madhuri but try to understand, as the Chairman of the Trust – I am in many ways answerable to its’ founder member, who in this case is the father of the person who is succeeding you.” He avoided Singhal’s gaze.
“You were pressurized?”
“Of course I wasn’t. An entire Board took the decision for Christ’s sake,” Chandrashekhar for the first time lost his cool.
“You knew and so did the Board that Madhuri was the best person for the job, why this lady all of a sudden?”
A.Chandrashekhar chose not to reply. After a few seconds of silence he spoke, “Will you or will you not make the announcement to your staff Meena? Delay your departure by a day and hold a Staff Meeting to make the announcement, don’t leave it to others to make the announcement.”
And just then, there was a loud screeching noise and the loudspeakers roared to life, “May I have your attention please,” it was the impeccable English accent of Ms. Muskaan Kaur.
The buzz in the audience died down as all eyes turned towards the elevated platform that was set up to act as a stage.
“As a member of the teaching faculty of Delhi High School, it’d be an honour for me to call up on stage, Mr. A.Chandrashekhar, our respected Chairman Sir to duly announce the name of the person who is all set to carry the flame of DHS forward and hence take forward the legacy of Mrs.Singhal. Sir if you may?” Muskaan moved away from the podium towards the left of the stage gesturing the Chairman to join her.
The announcement came as a bolt out of the blue for the Chairman. Just a moment ago, he was persuading Mrs. Singhal to delay her departure so that the name of the new Principal could be announced just at the right moment and the very next moment, he finds himself adjusting the height of the mike and clearing his throat – in readiness to announce the very same name.
Considering how embarrassing it might look, in utter dismay, the Chairman slowly made his way onto the stage.
“Thank you Muskaan for giving me this privilege to announce the name of the next Principal of DHS,” a plastic smile followed.
There was silence all around as the Chairman took his time to frame his sentence.
“Twenty eight years ago, her father started off this Trust from his small apartment in East Delhi. And soon it grew into a reputed name in the field of providing quality education to one and all. It was her father, the erstwhile Principal of this school and the founder member of the DHS Trust who initiated this great legacy. And who better than his own daughter to carry it forward? I take this moment in time to announce that the new Principal of Delhi High School is none other than the daughter of Mr. Chavan, Mrs. Bindu Kalsi,” The last few lines were well spaced out to take in audience response conveniently.
A large round of applause engulfed the front lawns of Delhi High School. And as the clapping died down, there was sense of insecurity amongst all present. The times were changing and so were the camps, one didn’t know who to rally around and who to trust. No-one spoke a word apart from the customary ‘It-was-shocking’ looks. Dr. Madhuri Singh had already began cracking a few complex algorithms in her head, if someone felt deeply cheated then it was her.
THREE
Rishav scanned the huge space called the Multipurpose Hall to look for a suitable place to sit. He neither wanted to appear desperate nor a creepy loner. He chose a strategic seat in the middle. Not too close to the teachers, not too close to the backbenchers. The hall was partially filled but the flurry of students didn’t stop. Three-fourth of the entire Class XI was already there while the rest were strolling their way across. There was the usual chatter that filled the air. The old friends were catching up. There was a lot to say, a lot to hear. It had been only a month after the Board exams but seemed like an eternity to the people who had gone away, some who had stayed, some who had just relaxed after one whole year of slogging.
Looking at those people laugh, Rishav felt nostalgic but tried hard to not remind himself of his friends in his alma mater. It was the first day of Class XI and like any other new kid, it was his first day and all he wanted to do was observe. Observe the body language of the students, to hear the slang that was used out here, to see the way they behaved with the teachers. He wanted to fit in as soon as possible. He didn’t want to stand out for the wrong reasons.
Loud thuds on the wooden flooring of the hall echoed in backdrop of immediate silence. The new principal of DHS had arrived, Bindu Kalsi closely followed by Madhuri, Veenu and Neeti walked into the Hall in a haste. The students, a minute ago unaware of the uncommanding presence, stood up to greet the new princi.
“Please be seated,” Kalsi took the microphone as everyone sat down with a noise of the moving chairs.
“Good morning…” she began with what was supposed to be her ‘short’ introductory speech.
It was the first time she was addressing the students of her school. She planned to make it an impressive one.
Yeah not as impressive as Meena Singhal, thought Rishav. She had a weird charm of sorts. She had an aura. A good one. Of respect and awe. And that is what exactly the students were thinking. They noticed every minute detail of her attire, her hair, her sandals, her height, the indents on her cheeks, the deep- badly- applied- kajal. They couldn’t help but laugh at the way she was stammering. The students of DHS weren’t shy to comment on any of the peculiar things about a person. The person who first saw it and pointed it out was the one who got everyone’s attention. And much to the picked-on-person’s chagrin, the person who pointed it out was the one who also got everyone’s approval.
When her speech finished, the people clapped more out of gratitude for finishing with the speech rather than applauding her for her incoherent tone and over-repeated statements.
“She is not that bad,” the guy sitting next to Rishav said.
“Yeah. Not that bad,” he replied.
“I am Siddhant by the way.”
“Rishav,” he said, extending his hand.
“I have been here for two years only. I hope the new Principal does something and doesn’t just sit around,” Siddhant said.
“Why? The previous one? Didn’t she do anything?” Rishav asked.
“Well, she was pretty relaxed. Not much was going around.”
“Oh. I thought otherwise.”
“Anyway, let’s see what this one is like.”
“Okay then. Which stream?”
“Commerce with Maths. And you?” Siddhant asked.
“Humanities it is.”
“Move out of the MP Hall in a single file,” a teacher shouted on the microphone
“L
et’s go then.” Rishav said.
“Okay. It’s break time. You wanna see around?”
“Yeah sure, why not? I’d love to!” Rishav replied with enthusiasm.
Rishav was pleased that he had made atleast one friend on his first day. It’s never too good to be alone.
And he was doubly happy that that friend was genuinely nice.
FOUR
Sahana was late. When was she not? She asked herself. But just because you are one freakin minute late doesn’t mean you close the doors on the face of a person. She stared at the guard, making a face. She had zero tolerance for people who did not understand logic. And she couldn’t bother to explain people things because; well it was too much of an effort. And plus she had no patience. Not even a teensy little bit.
She yawned with her mouth totally open, just as a black car stopped by her.
She looked at it with surprise, but was ready to fight with all her might in case someone was trying to kidnap her. Haha, she thought. Kidnapping me? I am not even a penny’s worth.
She chucked the idea and waited for the tinted window to slide down. A woman with a squished face and mouth in a pout looked up.
“You are late on the first week of school,” she said.
Sahana raised her eyebrows and just stared at the woman. She couldn’t think of anything to say to a woman whom she didn’t know and who pointed to her that she was late.
After a minute she just managed to shrug.
“Let her in,” she said to the guard.
Okay, then. Must be a new teacher, I guess.
Anyone Else But You... Page 2