This feeling of suffocation, of being trapped, never left her after that. In those early days she took it lightly. In fact, she discovered that it was good to be sandwiched like this. For one, the teachers would not wait for the child in the middle to come out and write on the board, so they almost always got one of the children in the end seats. And then, it became easier to look into a book on either side and make sure your answer was the same as your neighbours. Sometimes though, all three answers were different and left Maya confused.
On the whole, school was a reasonably happy change at first. It took her away from home for a long period and she felt important when she returned. She was almost like her father. He left home in the morning and returned only in the evening. He ordered amma around and she could do the same with her sister, except that Amrita never responded, only stared at her.
"If I looked at the teacher like you do, she'd hit me on the knuckles like this."
Maya took a long wooden ruler and smartly rapped Amrita, who clutched both hands together and looked at her fearfully.
"But I won't be afraid like you. If I don't know the answer, my friend Ramya will mutter it and I'll say it loudly. The teacher will then think that I know the answer and ask me to sit down. Ramya cracks so many jokes it's difficult not to laugh. When the teacher's telling us something, we're supposed to sit like. . . this."
Maya sat straight backed, eyes darting like a dancer's.
"Like statues. Only our eyes can move as we watch the teacher write on the board and our hands copy it in our books. We don't talk, don't even look at each other. Only Ramya has the guts to say something to the teacher. All the children in the class want to be her best friend but she has chosen me! How I wish she were my sister and not you. I would have had so much fun with her."
Ramya had also been the first to know about Amrita. Her mother had told her when she heard about their friendship.
"It doesn't matter. I won't tell anyone else about it. You can still be my best friend," she had said generously.
However, Maya's school days ceased to be fun when the other children found out about Amrita. Ram was the worst and his taunts became more hurtful as they moved to a higher class.
"Maya, does your sister beat anyone in a mad rage? Do your parents keep her locked in a room? Can I come and see her?" he asked her one afternoon during the lunch recess, his friends crowding behind him.
"She's not mad. . ."
"Then why doesn't she come to school?" asked one of the boys.
"She's not happy in this school."
"Oh yes, I remember how she used to cry," added Ramya.
"That was long ago, when we were young. Now we're in 3rd standard. She still doesn't go to school. . . why?"
"How does it matter to you?" demanded Hema, another loyalist.
"I'll tell you how it matters to him," Maya stood inches away from Ram, looked right into his eyes and continued, "Because this bully wants to tease her that's why. Do you know what happens if you tease somebody? This. . ." She pounced on him, grabbed him by his hair and pushed him to the ground.
She was much smaller than him and made up in fury what she lacked in strength. He was a veteran at such scrapes and Maya was clearly no match for him. The loud cheers and claps from the excited audience that was growing rapidly spurred her to give all she had behind every punch, every kick. A teacher passing by stopped and wrenched the two apart. He drove away the spectators and took the culprits to the headmistress.
Walking to the headmistress' room Maya was sure of one thing – the outcome was not going to be happy for either of them.
The teacher knocked on the wooden door that Maya remembered so well. It was not a single door but two halves, hinged in the middle of the frame leaving an almost equal space open at the top and the bottom. She remembered how the doors swung freely a few times before finally coming to a closing halt. There was no response from inside to the teacher's knock and he peeped inside.
"What's it?" growled a voice from inside sending an electric shock through the teacher who almost let the door fly from his hand. Maya and Ram shared a quick smile before remembering they were enemies. The teacher recovered and gestured to the children to wait outside the room while he went inside.
A stream of voices came out through the top and bottom of the doors that the teacher had taken the caution of closing firmly behind him.
Will SHE remember me? How will she? There are so many children here it's not possible to know each one. Moreover, I've such an ordinary face. Nobody will remember me. She won 't either.
Maya's knees still wouldn't stop shaking.
Is this the time, Maya? You DON'T want to go to the toilet. And stop shivering How terrible it will be if SHE looks at your legs and sees your knees knocking against each other!
Her worry had been unnecessary. Either the headmistress did not remember Maya or did not recognise her. Of course, Maya's right eye had changed colour after taking the brunt from a strong fist while her lower lip was cracked and swollen. Through her left eye she saw Ram clutching his stomach with one hand and rubbing the top of his head with the other. On his cheek were three deep gashes that made Maya happy about not trimming her nails regularly.
"What's all this, now?" the headmistress demanded. "Fighting?"
"Yes, ma'am. These two. . ." began the teacher.
She stopped him impatiently, "Let them talk."
Maya and Ram looked at each other, waiting for the other to begin.
"Go on. . . have you swallowed your tongues?"
Maya flared at the woman's tone.
"He teased me. . ."
The teacher nudged her from the back.
". . . e," she began, the word sticking to her throat and refusing to come out. The headmistress was frowning. Maya quickly cleared her throat and began again. This time her voice was louder than required.
"He was teasing me about my sister."
"What?"
"He was teasing me about my sister," she repeated.
The woman frowned and asked, "What?"
Maya wondered if she was hard of hearing. The teacher nudged her once again and she remembered the class teacher's first lesson.
"Always greet your elders when you meet them. Address your headmistress as Ma'am or Madam. When you finish what you have to say, don't forget to say Ma'am or Madam. Say thank you when you leave."
Oh. . . oh!
"Namastemadamhewasmakingfunofmeandmysistermadamsolfoughtwithhimmadamthankyoumadam," she said.
"So you can speak. Good, now repeat what you said. Slowly," she ordered.
Maya swallowed and obeyed, much slower this time though she did want to say it as fast as before, take whatever punishment was given and get out of the room as quickly as possible.
The headmistress turned to Ram.
"I was not really making fun, Madam. I was just asking her about her sister," he mumbled.
The woman's eyebrows shot up. Thin painted arcs that curved like little shooting stars.
"Why the special interest in her sister? Is she a film star or a celestial beauty? No answer, eh? You, girl, tell me. What's so great about your sister?"
"Nothing. . . Madam," Maya remembered her manners in the nick of time.
"Then?"
"She has some problem."
"Not just any problem. She's mad but she's let loose, Madam," the boy volunteered.
"Oh. . .yes, I remember. . ." she looked over the heads of the children and spoke to someone at the door. "I'm through with these people. Do please come in and take a seat."
Maya and Ram swivelled to see two men standing at the doorway. They turned around once again to face the headmistress when she tapped impatiently on the table.
Conversation ceased while the men came inside and sat on chairs next to each other at the long table.
"I don't have time to waste on you," said the headmistress. "But let me make one thing very clear. If either of you get into any other scrap like this, then that will be it. You'
ll be suspended from school. Don't come to me with your parents crying that you'll behave better, etc., etc. I won't listen to any nonsense, understood?" she demanded in a low voice.
Her words hissed and sizzled like drops of water on a hot griddle, making May a want to step backwards, away from danger. She stood still and watched the thick lips open and close over the big teeth, occasionally getting a glimpse of a gold tooth just inside the mouth which she didn't remember seeing the first time.
The two nodded. Was it possible? Could it be likely that she was not going to punish them? They looked at each other in a sudden burst of camaraderie.
"You may go," she dismissed them.
The teacher was about to open the door when she called out, "Oh, teacher. . . don't forget to tell their class teachers about what happened and ask them to punish these two for disrupting the school. In addition to whatever punishment the class teacher gives, these troublemakers must write a thousand times "I will not fight in school," get it signed by their parents and show it to the class teacher. Sorry about that. . . you know these childr. . ."
Maya did not turn around to see if the doors were shut nor did she pay attention to the headmistress' words that tapered to silence the further they went. She walked numbly. A thousand times? Just when she had thought that she wouldn't get any punishment! It was a stab in the back. One thousand times? It would take hours to write!
It didn't take as long as she had feared but she did learn her lesson even though it was too late. Ram spread the news to all his friends who passed it on to theirs and soon the whole school knew about Amrita. Now more children became curious about her. Maya heard their whispers when she went past.
Loud or soft she did not retaliate. Not in school at least. Home was another story.
***
15
didn't expect Maya to describe how she tormented her sister. After all, no one would want to project a mean image of oneself. Why should she be any different?
Whatever she did, within no time Amrita became nervous even when Maya did not notice her. She would sit in her corner, legs close to her body, hands around her knees and watch Maya's every movement. That was satisfying too. Her mother tried to stop her from ill-treating her sister and failed.
What'll she do? Slap me a few times? She's not going to tell appa about me. Revabehn's the one to watch out for. She has the eyes of an eagle.
It was indeed the maid who first noticed Maya's black eye when she returned from school one day and asked her about it. However, after listening through the account punctuated with hiccups, sniffles and anger, she did not say anything. The next morning Maya waited near the gate for her mother to return after meeting the headmistress. When she did, Kamala gave her a glare, followed it with a lecture and the matter ended there. Maya knew this too would be kept from her father. Some days later Revabehn took her to her house.
House? To Revabehn's little hut?
"I want you to meet the children in my locality," she said. "I've told them so much about you. They're eager to meet you."
That sounded good. Maya's chin went up. Oh, those poor little slum kids, they wouldn't have seen someone like her.
"Do you get angry sometimes?" asked Revabehn, holding the little girl's hand and walking briskly.
"Sometimes? Always! I always get so angry with everything and everybody."
"Excellent!"
Maya looked up sharply. Her teacher had always insisted that anger was wrong, very bad and Revabehn was praising her for it?
The old woman calmly spat out a thick mass of softened, pulverised tobacco and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand which, in turn, she wiped on her skirt. Unlike her mother who wore a sari, Revabehn wore the chania-choli. The skirt was wide and bounced with every step. It did not reach the ankle and so it stayed away from the mud and dirt on the road. Her blouse covered her from the neck to the waist but was open at the back, tied with a couple of strings. She would never let Maya play with the strings but pulled the odhni firmly around her so that the thin shawl covered her back fully
"Excellent," she repeated before Maya could question her further.
"Did you know that anger's a very good thing? It cleans your system much better than any medicine. When someone's angry, really very, very angry, blood rushes through the body from the head to the toe and it becomes clean and red. It makes you feel energetic. You can do a lot more work. Anger will give you the extra strength. Unfortunately, I don't get very upset these days but when I was younger. . . ah! You should have seen me then. My eyes would turn red. My whole body would feel so hot. I wouldn't have been surprised if wisps of smoke came out of my nose. It was the devil within me, the devil of wrath dancing with joy. I'd let him have his fun for some time but after a while I wouldn't want to be angry any more. You know how I'd drive him out? First I'd throw down all the vessels from the kitchen. Thud. . . crash. . . rattle. . .! Then I'd take a handful of raakh. . . and begin giso. . . giso. . . giso. . . All that scrubbing with the ash would make the vessels shine like silver. My neighbours would look jealously at me."
"'The anger bhooth has caught Revabehn!' they'd say. 'Let's also give our vessels to her.'"
"As it I'm a fool to waste my rage on them, ha! All of it was reserved for my family."
"Do you think it'll work for me too?" Maya asked wistfully. "I never knew it was a spirit in me. I thought I was. . . just. . . angry. Can I also drive it out by washing vessels?"
"You can but those in your house are all very clean. I do them so well though your mother's never satisfied. We'll have to find some other way to drive out the bhooth in you. Let me think. . . ."
Maya watched Revabehn closely but, from her little height, she could only see the underside of the maid's jaw working steadily on a new wad of tobacco. It made her thirsty but water would have to wait. She had to learn how to exorcise the devil first.
"I'll tell you what you can do. Don't talk to anyone. Don't even look at anyone. Get out of the house and play. . ."
That smashed Maya's picture into smithereens. She had visualised herself in the centre of piles of vessels, some cleaned, most still greasy and dirty, smoke curling from her nostrils. . . .
"Aw, that's so boring. Whom will I play with, anyway?"
"Don't you play in school? Don't you have any friends?"
"They won't let me take part in their game because they're afraid of becoming mad like Amrita."
"Arrey, rey, how stupid they are. It's good you don't mingle with such foolish children. It doesn't matter. The children in my basti know lots of games. They'll teach you."
Maya's initial reservation when they crowded around her vanished in no time. The difference in the quality of her frock and their clothes ceased to be important. They couldn't speak any language other than Gujarati while she could. They lived in a basti, in little homes that were no better than basic shelters with tin roofs and leaning walls. She forgot that her house was an independent two storeyed one of brick and concrete. What really mattered to her was their warmth, their unreserved friendliness once Revabehn told them who she was and why she had come to meet them. She wondered if they would change and start behaving like the children in her school when they would know about her sister but they remained as friendly and happy to see her as they were the first time she visited them.
She did not know for how long she would have continued to play with those children. One day a neighbour happened to see her at the basti and told her father. The beating she got from him ensured that she never thought of playing any game with anyone.
It was back to being lonely once again but now she found that the sight of her sister no longer angered her as it had before.
I think the anger bhooth has decided to leave me at last. Or maybe it's because no one in school asks me any more about my sister,' she thought more realistically.
With time to think, she began to wonder about Amrita.
Won't it be boring for her to stay at home the whole day? I go to school, meet
many children, do many things. . . how can she stay like this?
"What do you think, Revabehn? Will she ever become like me? Will she learn something?"
"Of course, why not? You remember that Munni who used to play with you? She's a big girl now. She does so much work in her house. She helps her mother a lot. Your sister can too."
"But appa won't like it if he sees her."
"He needn't know anything. She can work while he's away."
"Why don't you teach her? She can wash vessels, clean the house. . ."
"What'll your mother say to this? Chalo, let's try."
The maid gave Amrita a broom and taught her to sweep the floor with gestures and simple instructions while Maya watched. Amrita fumbled at first but over the next few days she caught on and swept the room slowly and carefully. They rewarded her with claps and smiles while she hid her face in her hands. With that, her corner opened out. Amrita no longer sat rocking endlessly but walked around with the broom even when she was not sweeping. She smiled at Maya and touched her gently sometimes. The first time she did it, Maya raised her hand to brush her sister's away but it was such a soft touch, she kept quiet. The devil of wrath hadn't quite left her though. He made his presence felt occasionally when Amrita swept the room early in the morning and disturbed Maya's sleep.
"Can't you do this later?" she would shout. "You have the whole day to sweep or mop or do whatever you want. Making so much noise, enough to waken the dead! Sit down somewhere and keep quiet."
Amrita was learning to obey her sister without a beating and she would sit patiently till she got a signal to get up from her chair. Their room had never been as clean as it was now. The floor gleamed and the windows shone. She sometimes went so far as to peep out through the window. If she saw something interesting she would pull Maya's or Revabehn's hand and bring them to the window as well. Maya was not keen on looking out but Revabehn was always ready to take a break from her chores.
Amrita Page 17