by Nag Mani
The audition was probably over as the veranda in front of the Auditorium was empty. The Junior School was deserted. It was time for their ‘Baths’. Occasionally, a face could be seen through their dormitory window, a towel around its shoulders. The students of Class III to V had to line up wearing gowns in front of the bathrooms, which were actually small cubicles with a shower and no doors. These little boys had to take off their gowns, stand naked in a line, raise their hands and turn round and round, while their matron examined their bodies for any sign of infection. They would then be allotted showers in groups of two to three. An old nanny controlled the water pipes so that they had fixed amount of time to get wet, shampoo and soap themselves, rinse off and come out. Rohan smiled at the old memories. He had spent hours hiding under beds or behind lockers to skip these baths. The Senior School did have doors and there was no matron to look after their hygiene. Though, it was dominated by seniors who came and went with no regard for their juniors in queue. They would take their own time in the shower while juniors just waited outside till their bath time was over or the water ran cold.
The Swimming Pool was to his right. It was cornered off with railings and an ‘OUT OF BOUNDS’ sign on the locked entrance gate. The ball was floating in the deeper side on the far end of the pool. He jumped over the railing and ran down two flights of stairs. Three spring-boards had been mounted on the other end and beyond them, a railing marked the start of a steep fall to a narrow valley below. Rohan spotted a wooden pole resting against the railing. As he took a step forward, a sudden, faint panic rose from within.
It was a strange feeling. Everything seemed so still and quiet. Not a single leaf in the forest moved. The water was smoother than glass. He heard no sound, though a cricket match was going on just beyond the stadium-steps. He looked back. The red roofs of the Junior School loomed far, far away. Some sort of heaviness hung around the pool. He thought of the piano. But this time, the feeling was stronger. His knees felt weak with its weight. He looked down. He had been walking on grated concrete slabs that covered the drain around the pool. They dislodged with every step he took yet made no sound. He saw the ball floating on the still water…
The panic in him raged to become dreadful fear.
The ball had fallen into the pool only a minute ago! It was supposed to disturb the tranquillity of the water. He was supposed to see ripples marching across the pool, right? But, the water was absolutely still.
No. It had to be some other ball. Their ball must have landed somewhere else. He looked around. But then, they had heard a splash, didn’t they? He took an unintended step back. His mind refused to accept the reality. There had to be a logical reason.
Then he heard it. It came from the Auditorium. It was a faint voice, as if coming from far away, from a different time. And the sadness it carried melted every wall it struck.
“Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high, there’s a land that I heard of…
Someday I’ll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far…
That’s where you’ll find me, somewhere, over the rainbow…”
His limbs felt feeble. Was he imaging it? He turned to look at the Auditorium. A dense mist had suddenly formed in front of the hall. It was an unnaturally thick wall of vapour, inching towards him.
Get the ball and get out of here! His mind screamed. He spun around and, in doing so, caught a glimpse of something…
Someone was standing on the stadium-step nearest to him. His heart dreaded the unknown, yet his curiosity made him look. And what he saw was all dream-like. It didn’t seem real.
A girl dressed in an old school uniform stood there. She had a pale white face, and dark shadows encircled her eyes.
She was looking right at him.
Rohan stepped back in fright and the next moment, he was falling into the pool. Cold water hit him like a thousand spears. He flailed his hands but his woollen clothes had become very heavy. His heart went frantic. He was going down. He looked around. Everything was eerily blue. And then, a deep silence filled his ears. What was happening? Was he getting numb?
“Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high…”
He heard it distinctly and this time it was very close. He let out a gasp, sending out bubbles around his face, and choked. His lungs strained for air. Down, down, down he went. He tried to reach for the glittering surface, but it was going further, further, further away. His chest began to burn; his body hurt. The water darkened. All he could see was his hands jerking madly above his head in their desperate struggle to reach the surface.
There was a sudden movement above him. Something heavy fell in the pool and he found himself in a swarm of bubbles. A pair of hands grabbed him. He was being pulled up. He gasped for air the moment he hit the surface. Ayush held him firmly and waded to a side. Someone pulled him out of the pool. He slumped to the floor, exhausted. He dared not look at the water. He was scared.
“What the hell were you doing?” Ayush shouted as Manav pulled him out. Rohan saw a few boys watching by the railing, nervously glancing around for any sign of school authorities. The mist had disappeared, so had the girl.
Rohan and Ayush were in deep trouble. It was impossible to go all the way up to the dormitory without being noticed or leaving a trail of water. If the warden saw them drenched to the skin, he would certainly open their files. They stood shivering against a wall, wrapped in blazers while someone went to the dormitory to get extra uniforms. Rohan stood in silence, not daring to speak about what he had seen. Ayush did not speak either. They shivered in silence. And just as Rohan felt his body go numb with cold, dry clothes arrived along with a bag. They quickly changed and stuffed their wet clothes away. They had almost reached the top landing when Manav shouted “Wait! We forgot something.” Everyone halted and looked at him in frustration.
He was pointing at the green ball floating in the turbulent pool.
*
It was a chilly evening. Rohan sat shivering in his classroom. Girls had gone back to their hostel campus, while boys had to sit in their classrooms for Prep – their self-study session. Rohan was staring blankly at an open book, contemplating over what had happened in the Swimming Pool. He was sure he had seen a girl but his mind simply refused to accept it. And then, he had fallen in the cold water. He did not remember what had happened then or how long he had stayed under water. He had been shaking when Ayush pulled him out. Was it cold or fear? He could not remember. Ayush said he had heard his scream.
Now when did I scream?
He looked at Ayush. He was sitting on a desk in the centre of the room, talking to anybody who would listen. “I am telling you,” Rohan heard him speak. “He was himself watching porn he had confiscated from the XIIs’ dorm…”
“And how do you know that?” someone asked.
“Because about 40 minutes later, he came back and shouted: “Hey man! Where is the second CD?”” He gave ample time for the class to get over with its wild laughter. “And they had to hand it over. He desperately needed it.”
Rohan looked at the window. It had become dark. There was another explosion of laughter. Apparently, Ayush had taken a step further in explaining why the warden needed to watch porn.
“…and suppose he gets married, and this is his wife,” he pointed at an invisible woman and stood up on his chair.
Rohan returned to the window and saw a dark, immobile figure standing outside. “Shhhh…” covered his mouth and whispered. “The warden!”
“Yes, Rohan. I am telling you how the warden will conduct his ‘Husband’s Inspection’. And you aren’t even listening!”
“No… the warden!” Rohan hissed. “He is here!”
But Ayush had lost interest and so had the others. They were keen on watching the House-Master’s Inspection parody. The figure moved. While the class watched the fake warden inspect his imaginary wife for dirty nails and long hair, the real warden appeared at the doorway, his hands in his pockets. A hushed silence went viral, but the fa
ke warden was too busy scolding his wife for wearing her blouse a bit too deep. She was about to be hammered for this crime and her file opened. Of course, a ‘Yellow Card’ would be issued first, so the fake warden tore a sheet of paper out of his register and began filling in the details. The imaginary wife begged and pleaded for forgiveness and swore never to wear a neckline that deep again. Where would she go if she got suspended from their house? Her father would be so angry. Yes he would be. The fake warden cum husband would make it a point to write him a letter stating the indiscipline and misbehaviour of his daughter.
Mr. Kumar cleared his throat.
Ayush turned around. Colours evaporated from his face. They stood like two statues, staring at each other. No one moved. Everyone held their breath. What would happen next?
Moments passed.
“Get down,” said the warden and Ayush jumped off the chair. His face had now blossomed scarlet. “Don’t your teachers give you assignments?”
“Yes… Sir.” Ayush croaked, still clutching the ‘Yellow Card’.
“Then why are you wasting your time!” The warden looked around the class, “Back to your work! Everyone!” And then, to everyone’s astonishment, he left the classroom, his hands still in his pockets.
Ayush’s jaw dropped open. He had expected the hammering of his life-time. And what would happen if he read the filth written on the ‘Yellow Card’? But the warden had not as much as raised his voice. Ayush walked over to his desk in a corner and sat down quietly. He began filling a diary that everyone had to maintain to get their weekly coupons. Too stunned to speak, he threw his diary at Rohan and then a red pen.
18/10/08, Saturday
2:30 – 4:00 PM: Art Block (SUPW).
Rohan picked up the pen and faked the signature of their art teacher.
Ayush was the star of the night. The warden did not come out of his house even to take the roll-call and an inspection that night was called off. Seniors personally called him to narrate the incident again and again and laughed at his stupidity, patting him at the same time. They had begun to lose interest in the play and no longer summoned Rohan for updates. Rohan finally appointed two class IX students, Nipurn Gupta and Akshay Garg, both from his house, to help with back-stage events.
Next morning, his class learnt they would be having a surprise chemistry test in the following week. And surprisingly, the surprise test was announced by the chemistry teacher himself, Mr. D. R. Pandey. Nobody knew his full name. He was an old man with grey hair and wrinkled face. Spending the entire life on mountains had its blessings. He was lean and fit and as active as his students. He also taught history to junior classes, which, ironically, was in contrast to his short memory. So, World War II would randomly rage in continuation to discoveries made in the atomic structure and sometimes, striking of a photon on a metal surface would lead to the Dandi March. But it was the juniors who suffered the most. They had to endure random, abstruse classes in which horrifying molecules of organic chemistry led to disastrous reactions. It was hard enough to learn the inexorable symbols of elements, leave alone understanding why aldehydes and ketones undergo nucleophilic-addition reaction with hydrogen-cyanide to yield cyanohydrins.
Rohan was not worried about the test. He was sure Mr. Pandey would himself forget about it by the end of the week, or give the juniors a surprise test instead.
He went to the Auditorium straight after lunch to have the Green Room cleared. The two newly appointed juniors did all the work for him. They had packed all the old props and costumes and were carrying them upstairs when Rohan heard someone on the stage.
“Over the rainbow…
Way up high, there’s a land that I heard of…”
Fear wriggled in his heart…
And then came recognition. If dark was fear, then a thousand suns came leaping out into the sky. He galloped up to the stage.
Chandni was standing in the centre with a script in her hands. She was wearing a green track-lower and a yellow house T-shirt. She stopped and turned around the moment he entered. Beaming uncontrollably with joy, he stepped onto the stage… and tripped over something and fell flat. Chandni covered her mouth, giggling, while someone clapped in the audience.
“So, Mr. Agarwal!” Now that he was falling on regular basis, Mrs. Sharma chose to do away with courtesies, “I have found you your Dorothy Gale. Please add her to the list.”
“She is in the play?” he asked, rubbing his nose, his mind too excited to realise how stupid he was looking. Chandni raised her eyebrows, and he at once knew he had not sounded the way he had intended. “I mean,” he quickly corrected, “you said there would be no seniors this time.”
“Sir has made an exemption in her case,” Mrs. Sharma explained. “Our Dramatics Society has set high standards for itself and we cannot let our audience down. She is excellent in academics and I know she can manage her board preparations well. So, she will now be in the lead role.”
So, Nisha is dumped.
The two juniors caught up with Rohan. “Where should we put these?” asked Akshay, confused as to why Rohan was panting when they were doing all the work.
“Go up to the Junior School attic. I am coming.” With that he began to leave.
“Rohan,” Anjali stopped him, “any comment on her performance?”
“Well, it was… err… actually I didn’t see her perform.” Rohan had a feeling that this was the most suitable response. He prepared to leave.
“Oh!” Anjali looked at Chandni. “Can you please repeat that part again?”
Chandni threw him a cold look and he gulped. She raised her script and began to act. She looked everywhere other than at him, and how he wanted to hide in the Green Room toilet! And when she had finished, Anjali raised her question again.
She is awesome! She is perfect! She is… so damn beautiful!
“She’s fine,” Rohan replied casually.
“Come on,” Mrs. Sharma yawned in her seat, her burgundy hair matching her shawl, “give your opinion.”
“Yes, she is fine.” Rohan tried to get away.
“Just fine?” Chandni asked.
Rohan froze.
This was the first time she had spoken directly to him. There was a feeble smile on her face, mocking him, challenging him to find any shortcoming. “Well… err…” Rohan thought for a while. For reasons unknown, he was nervous. “Dorothy is talking to her dog about a dream-land. Don’t you think, she should sound a bit more… err… dreamy?” he tried to make his point. “You sounded a bit too… eh… bold!” He knew she would understand. And of course, he had impressed her with his lore of acting. They had one thing in common, at least. He looked at her and smiled, but…
Her eyes were screaming at him – HOW DARE YOU!
His smile vanished. “No… it was fine, I mean… good… it was good. Very good!” Rohan tried to cover up. But the damage had been done. He felt himself melt under her gaze. He hurried off the stage, controlling an urge to run.
“Over the rainbow…”
Mid-way to the door, he was hypnotised, for she spoke again, and so well she spoke that he was drifted away to a magical land. He was mesmerized, her voice weaving a different world for him. She stopped abruptly and he was rudely brought back to the hall. She was looking at him, her eyebrows raised. Anjali clapped. But Chandni’s eyes were fixed on him. Rohan did not know what to say, so he smiled. And she smiled back. She climbed down and joined the teachers while Rohan headed for the attic in the Junior School. His smile didn’t fade for the rest of the day. It stayed even after he had slept.
Chandni’s inclusion in the play brought fresh enthusiasm to the practice sessions. They were shown the movie on the Wizard of Oz, and a day later, the casts were finalised. Nisha had been assigned the role of the Wicked Witch, which was more suitable owing to her shrill voice, along with that of Aunt Em. Juniors from classes VII and VIII were assigned other minor roles. Varun and Manav spent most of their time walking up and down the balcony reciting their dialogu
es. Juniors, who usually occupied that area to watch football matches scurried off automatically, leaving the entire building to them. Though Chandni was now the senior-most member, she did not interfere with Rohan’s authority. She usually sat with Anjali and helped her in direction. Mrs. Sharma was never seen during the practices again.
4. THE GREEN ROOM
It was the end of October and the mountains grew pleasantly cold. Rohan was playing football with Manav and Varun in the balcony while Nisha sat on a table completing an assignment. It had been more than a week since Chandni joined the play and their conversations continued to be formal. But he had earned her smile whenever they crossed paths; and he was happy. It was more than he could have ever expected. But then, it would end too. Two months from now, and she would be gone. He could do nothing, but become a mere spectator and watch her leave.
Rohan kicked hard. The ball bounced off a wall and… “Watch out!” he shouted.
Too late! The ball hit Nisha on her head. Down she fell and her pen went flying off the balcony.
“YOU…” she growled like a monster as she rose. Her face covered in hair, she pounced on Rohan, pinning him against the railing, and started showering him with punches.
“Go on! Throw him off the balcony!” Ayush pepped her up.
She suddenly withdrew, her brows raised, alert. Rohan had heard it too.
Someone was screaming.
It was coming from the Green Room. They heard multiple footsteps on the stage. Rohan rushed into the hall and caught a glimpse of Anjali before she disappeared down the staircase. Rohan followed her. Surbhi, the girl who played Glinda, lay cuddled at the bottom of the staircase. Her hair had come loose. She was trembling.