Of Course, It's Butterfingers Again

by Khyrunnisa A

Amar thought he must be dreaming. His parents were actually encouraging him to see a movie two days before his exams! ‘You are the best!’ he exclaimed and tripped over the rug in his hurry to race upstairs and get ready, very much his normal self now.

  Mr Kishen heaved a sigh of relief and returned to his laptop. He now believed he could complete his work before the deadline.

  Amar and his mother left on Mrs Kishen’s two-wheeler. At the theatre, Amar’s mother asked him to wait near the gate while she went to get the tickets. ‘This might take some time, Amar. Just look at the long queues! Stay here.’

  ‘I told you to book online, Ma!’ Amar grumbled as he waited, looking at the posters, then at the vehicles. He watched a quarrel between two cab drivers moderated by the gatekeeper. When that ended, he went outside. And what did he see walking towards him but a large and lovely golden retriever! Amar recognized the breed immediately for he had done an assignment on gun dogs and had mixed up a golden retriever’s characteristics with a cocker spaniel’s, much to his teacher’s annoyance, and the resultant punishment had made him very familiar with the features and characteristics of both dogs. Of the two he preferred the golden retriever and was delighted to see one in the flesh. It was on a leash and his attention was so completely on the dog that he jumped when he heard a familiar voice exclaim, ‘Amar!’ He hadn’t noticed it was his principal at the other end of the leash.

  ‘What are you doing at the theatre, Amar?’ Mr Jagmohan looked disapproving.

  ‘My parents thought a movie might de-stress me, sir,’ Amar replied, caressing the dog’s head. It was a friendly dog and gave a happy bark. ‘You took away a study holiday, sir,’ he added, trying to look dejected.

  ‘Looks like I shouldn’t have given you the weekend either. Coming to watch a movie! De-stress indeed! Idiotic psychological notions! Are you waiting for someone?’

  ‘My mother. She’s gone to get tickets.’

  ‘Then she’ll take some time.’ Mr Jagmohan looked thoughtful and, after musing for a while, said, ‘Amar, could you hold the leash for a while? I think our trustee Mr Vijay and his wife seem to have got lost. They went shopping and haven’t got back. I came looking for them. It’d be easier without the dog.’

  ‘Oh, sure, sir,’ exclaimed Amar, delighted.

  ‘Be careful, Amar. I’ll be back soon.’ Suppressing his misgivings, Mr Jagmohan entrusted Amar with the dog and disappeared.

  Amar tickled the dog, who seemed to like it. Then he felt the urge to show off and took the dog for a walk. He was walking up and down with it when he noticed a little kid pick up a stone to throw at the dog. ‘No, you don’t!’ he shouted, raising his hand warningly and dropping the leash.

  Off went the retriever in a flash, into one of the queues that had overflowed all the way out of the theatre. It was just a friendly dog and, exulting in its newfound freedom, wanted to nuzzle against as many people as possible. But the people mistook its intentions and responded with screams. Some ran this way, some that and there was panic. All the shouting frightened the dog too, and it shot off into the underground parking area, and Amar raced after him. He didn’t know its name, so he shouted after him, ‘Golden Retriever! Come back!’ His words echoed in the parking area. The dog barked in reply and there was the echo again. The dog began to love this game and ran faster and faster, barking all the while, so it sounded like the area was full of dogs, all named Golden Retriever, for Amar, not to be out-barked, was yelping ‘Golden Retriever!’ all the time.

  Tiring of this at last, it came out of the parking lot and Amar gave it chase. He finally caught up with it and managed to get his fingers around the leash. But it was a big dog and began to control the proceedings. Soon it wasn’t Amar walking the dog but the dog walking Amar. He pulled Amar along, leading him in a merry dance. A shocked Mrs Kishen and an appalled Mr Jagmohan, who had both reached the gate, watched as at last the dog slowed down and Amar was able to get the better of it.

  ‘I should have known!’ said Mr Jagmohan bitterly as Amar pulled the dog towards him.

  Two people who stood beside him, and had been watching anxiously too, called out, ‘Goldfinger! Good boy! Come here!’

  ‘Amar! What have you been doing?’ asked Mrs Kishen, holding out her right hand. Her tickets were in that hand, but not for long.

  Snap! Quick as a flash, Goldfinger snatched them away and began to chew them. ‘Loves paper!’ Mrs Vijay laughed.

  ‘Good punishment!’ said Mr Jagmohan angrily. Mr Vijay had already expressed his annoyance when Mr Jagmohan had told him he had left the dog with his student and it hadn’t improved the principal’s mood any. ‘De-stress indeed!’ Mr Jagmohan repeated. ‘Never heard such nonsense before! And please write 300 times, “I will not drop the leash and spread panic,” and bring it to me on Monday.’

  ‘But, sir, I have my exams on Monday!’ Amar protested.

  ‘This might improve your handwriting for the exams,’ said Mr Jagmohan, unmoved, and left with his guests and Goldfinger.

  Amar and his mother were able to retrieve two tiny bits of the tickets that had fallen out of the dog’s mouth and went in to try their luck. But though there were many witnesses to what had happened, the usher believed in seeing the tickets, the whole tickets and nothing but the tickets.

  ‘That’s it, Amar,’ said Mrs Kishen, trying to hide her disappointment. ‘There’s no point in wasting any more time. And the movie’s started. Can’t get fresh tickets either; sold out. Come, let’s go! We’ll stop by the supermarket on the way home.’

  ‘Sorry, Ma,’ said Amar in a small voice. They went to the supermarket and Mrs Kishen asked Amar to hold the shopping bag as she went to park the two-wheeler. There was no parking space and she had to take it far away. Amar whiled away the time by walking among the parked cars. And then he noticed a familiar number—Mr Jagmohan’s car! So they, too, had come to the supermarket. And the golden retriever was inside the vehicle. It seemed to be nodding its head at Amar.

  ‘Hey, Goldfinger! What a time you showed me! Good to meet you again.’ He tapped on the window. Goldfinger’s head lolled to one side.

  ‘Haha, another game, eh?’ said Amar, holding his own head at an angle and waggling his tongue. But, to his shock, the dog responded by collapsing on the seat and rolled off it to the floor.

  ‘Goldfinger! Goldfinger! Get up!’ Amar tapped on the glass desperately. He tried the doors. They were locked. All the windows were up. The dog lay still. Amar saw his mother approaching in the distance. He ran to her and, pointing to the car, said, ‘The dog’s in there. In danger! See what you can do, Ma!’ Placing his faith in his mother’s ability to work miracles at chosen moments, he rushed into the supermarket. Every passing second was precious. He ran from section to section, ramming into indignant shoppers like a distressed goat and leaping athletically over their baskets like a more self-possessed one, totally oblivious to the confusion he was creating as he searched for Mr Jagmohan and Mr Vijay. A brainwave and a few quick vaults that would have done a frolicsome kangaroo proud led him to the section that sold dog accessories, where he found them.

  ‘Mr Jagmohan!’ he screeched in relief.

  ‘Amar! You again!’ Mr Jagmohan looked black as thunder.

  ‘Sir, come quickly. Goldfinger’s fainted. He could be dead.’ Amar’s sense of the dramatic got the better of his diplomacy.

  ‘What!’ Mr and Mrs Vijay exclaimed. Mr Vijay asked Mr Jagmohan in a shaky voice, ‘Didn’t you leave the engine and the AC on? Have you killed my dog?’

  Mr Jagmohan turned ashen and all of them rushed to the car with loud cries. A group of curious onlookers followed them to the door and watched the proceedings from that vantage point. Mr Jagmohan used the remote-control key and Mrs Kishen, who was by the car, opened the door and carried the unconscious dog, with some difficulty, out. Mr Vijay snatched it from her and cuddled it, making crooning noises. As everyone watched anxiously, Goldfinger made a low sound and stirred ever so slightly. There was a huge sense of
relief. It was alive! It was a healthy dog and very soon it had recovered. It loved being fussed over and lapped up all the attention eagerly.

  ‘Mr Jagmohan!’ Mr Vijay sounded stern. ‘If it hadn’t been for this smart boy here, my Goldfinger would have suffocated to death. It was so careless of you, VERY, VERY careless!’

  ‘Mr Jagmohan’s usually very careful, sir,’ said Amar, jumping to his principal’s defence. ‘Very careful.’ He felt sorry for him. It was the first time he was witnessing this rarest of rare scenes—his principal, the past master at ticking others off, actually being ticked off himself.

  ‘So, boy, how can I reward you?’ Mr Vijay asked. ‘Ask for anything.’

  ‘I think I know what the boy and the rest of the school would like,’ Mr Jagmohan, who had recovered his sangfroid at Amar’s words, butted in. ‘A study holiday on Monday. And another on Tuesday. I’ll announce this. The exams will start on Wednesday. And Amar, er, there’s no need for the imposition either.’

  ‘Thank you, sir!’ Amar gushed.

  Mr Vijay turned to Mrs Kishen and said, ‘I’m very sorry Goldfinger ate your tickets. I’ll send tickets to you for another day’s show. For the whole family.’

  Before Mrs Kishen could reply, Amar said, ‘For the day after the exams, Mr Vijay, and thank you very much. But now I have an extra day! What do I do with it? I’m stressed out again and need to be de-stressed.’

  Mrs Kishen and Mr Jagmohan rolled their eyes in exasperation.

  * Refer to Howzzat Butterfingers!

  * Refer to Clean Bowled, Butterfingers!

  * Refer to Run, It’s Butterfingers Again!

  * Refer to Howzzat Butterfingers!

  Acknowledgements

  My warm thanks at the outset to my publishers, for keeping the Butterfingers series chugging along.

  From book one to book six, my lovely editor, Sohini Mitra, has been in the thick of Butter. With her good sense, calm demeanour and admirable work ethics, she has been an encouraging figure and a pillar of support to me all the way. I cannot thank her enough.

  I am greatly obliged to Kankana Basu and Pritsikha Anil for the interest and care taken in pruning and polishing my book. My heartfelt indebtedness to them for their meticulous editing.

  I am especially grateful to Shashi Tharoor for his support and for having released all the Butterfingers books so far. I am honoured. His lovely words of appreciation about the series and his keen interest in the books are very encouraging and mean a lot to me.

  I have immense gratitude for ‘Batsman and Robin’—Mithali Raj and Robin Jeffrey—for their appreciative and enthusiastic endorsements. I am delighted.

  Abhijeet Kini’s artistic touch has enhanced and animated the stories. I am most indebted to the illustrator for the deftness and panache he brings to his work.

  A word here, a suggestion there can work wonders. Many thanks to my friends Sreelatha Nair and Noumi, conversations with whom helped keep the creative juices flowing.

  As always, my deepest gratitude is to my loving and supportive family. They are everything to me. To my husband, Vijaya Kumar, for reading the manuscript with joy and finding no fault with it; to my son, Amar, for appreciating the stories while gently suggesting a few changes in the descriptions of cricketing shots and field positions; and to my charming daughter-in-law, Arpitha, for echoing Amar’s words of praise—a big and heartfelt ‘Thank you!’

  And to my dear readers, relatives, friends, students, well-wishers and fans of Butterfingers, my love and profound thanks. Much obliged!

  Read More by the Same Author

  Howzzat Butterfingers!

  As the school term begins, the cricket team, of which Amar is appointed the vice-captain, has its task cut out—it has to win the Colonel Nadkarni Under-15 Inter-School Limited Overs Cricket Trophy. The team starts practising in earnest, but disasters follow in quick succession. Will they win the coveted trophy and save their school grounds—or will it slip from their grasp like a classic Butterfingers catch?

  Goal, Butterfingers!

  Obsessed with football, Amar comes up with a brilliant plan—a school football tournament where each class will play as a different country. But like all of Butterfingers’s plans, this, too, is doomed to face obstacles. With things hitting rock bottom, will Amar’s class finally lift the World Cup? And with Butterfingers as the goalie, does his team really have a chance?

  Clean Bowled, Butterfingers!

  What Amar really wants is to hold a cricket match to honour the memory of Colonel Nadkarni. And when the principal wants the teachers of Green Park School to be more healthy and active, Amar playfully proposes that teachers of the junior and senior schools play a match against each other—which actually gets accepted! How this turns out is anyone’s guess!

  The Misadventures of Butterfingers

  Amar Kishen is not called Butterfingers for nothing. Wherever he goes, disaster hurtles along—but can things get any crazier? With Amar, they can! Join him as he whips up another tornado of trouble—tackling ghosts, pouncing on his principal, knocking a thief unconscious, stopping time and more!

  Run, It’s Butterfingers Again!

  Everyone’s favourite klutz, Amar Kishen, aka Butterfingers, has no problem getting into trouble . . . and that’s the problem! Follow his mad escapades as he becomes a human cannonball, rides a runaway horse, takes up karate, acts as a Martian, oversees the great fall of china, tumbles into a river and tries his hand at fencing, with hilarious consequences, of course!

  THE BEGINNING

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  Puffin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

  This collection published 2018

  Copyright © Khyrunnisa A. 2018

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Jacket images © Neelima P Aryan

  ISBN: 978-0-143-44326-1

  This digital edition published in 2018.

  e-ISBN: 978-9-353-05373-4

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.