Shala

by Milind Bokil

  Naru mama did not like the girl. We had gone for a walk around the MIDC area when he confided he found her a sort of ‘kakubai’. Luckily Aaisaheb did not like her much either. Naru mama was safe for a while.

  ‘I am going to look for a Christian girl,’ Naru mama said. ‘You know the smart, bob-cut type? How impressive they look!’

  I liked the idea.

  ‘Yes, Naru mama. You should find someone like that,’ I concurred. ‘But then, why are you going through this rigmarole of seeing girls. Why don’t you find one yourself, Ichi….?’

  I was about to say Ichibhana, just the way Surya does, but checked myself. I prayed Naru mama would fall in love with a girl and then confide in me. I would get to meet her secretly a few times and after the wedding, I would proudly boast to Aaisaheb and Ambabai of having known about it all along. What fun it would be to see their faces then!

  ‘Sure. But for that I have to meet one first!’ Naru mama said.

  ‘Don’t you have good looking girls in your college?’ I asked.

  Naru mama started laughing.

  ‘They are all my students!’ he said.

  ‘So what? What is wrong with that?’

  ‘You are too young to understand these things right now. It is not that easy.’

  I knew that these things were not easy. Naru mama need not tell me that. In fact, I wanted him to tell me how to make these things easy!

  ‘There is this Manoj Desai in my class,’ I began, bringing up the fictional character to tell my story. ‘He is unable to confide his love to the girl he loves.‘

  ‘He needs to be relentless. He should not give up,’ Naru mama advised.

  ‘He goes towards her house each evening. But it has not helped him.’

  ‘Why does he go there?’

  ‘In the hope of seeing her.’

  ‘Patience, my dear friend. Patience!’ Naru mama said.

  ‘But what is the point in just going around the house? Does it help?’

  ‘I don’t think it does. And who knows, she may be in love with someone else.’

  I had never thought on those lines. What if Shirodkar was interested in someone else? Naru mama had mentioned once that girls generally avoid falling in love with someone from their locality or their class as they fear their affair would become public knowledge. The boys, unaware of their affair elsewhere, keep hoping. Sukdi was a good example. So was the case with Gopujkar in tenth standard, or Sule, for that matter. There was no girl I knew who had an affair with a classmate.

  I was mortally scared. But I brushed away the thought. Shirodkar was a nice girl who did not have an affair with anyone. Had it been so, Misal would have told me. She was not like that, I assured myself.

  ‘Ask Manoj to visit her house,’ Naru mama continued. ‘He should go to her house, play with her younger siblings, eat whatever her mother offers, and have a good chat. That way you become good friends and no one suspects you.’

  The idea was fantastic! And flawless! That was the case with Chitre, wasn’t it? I imagined a scenario: Shirodkar had invited me to her house. I was being introduced to her mother and her sister. ‘He’s Joshi from my class,’ she was saying. ’He is very intelligent.’ Then her Aai said, ‘Oh is that so? Why didn’t you come earlier?’ Her sisters sat around and talked to me. I played underhand cricket with her younger brother and deliberately got out a few times. And then they fed me something I had never eaten in my house. And as I was about to leave, her Aai said in a sweet voice, ‘Do visit us once in a while.’ Shirodkar came to the gate to see me off and smiled sweetly. I was lost in my dream.

  ‘What are you dreaming about?’ Naru mama asked, patting me on my head. ‘Looks like you too are trying to get something going.’

  ‘No way! I am not interested in such things. ’ I said.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Focus on your studies.’

  I was waiting for the holidays to get over so that I could tell the gang about our encounter with Sukdi. We all assembled at our adda, as usual, and I recounted the entire episode, including minor details like the colour of Mahesh’s shirt. I told them what Naru mama had advised me and then I declared, ‘I am not going to tease Sukdi any more.’

  I was expecting Surya and Phawdya to growl at me, but surprisingly Surya said, ‘You are right, bhenchod. If tomorrow Kevda and I are together, I don’t want anyone to tease her.’

  ‘I have never teased Mahesh,’ Phawdya declared.

  The school children were passing by, but none of us seemed to be in a mood to tease them. I kept an eye out on the road for her.

  ‘There should be a separate school for folks like me,’ Surya said.

  ‘What do you mean by folks like you?’ I asked.

  ‘Folks who are in love. There should be a school for such people. Others like you would not be allowed there.’

  ‘Great idea.’

  ‘Of course, bhenchod! A couples-only school. And each couple will have a separate bench. No one disturbs anybody. It would be fun.’

  ‘Even the teachers should be couples,’ Chitre added, winking at me.

  ‘You are absolutely right, bhenchod!’ Surya said, getting excited. ‘That’s the kind of school, which is worth being called a school. What a horrid school we go to!’

  I loved the idea but did not show much enthusiasm; I was scared they would ask, ‘What about you?’ But the idea was fantastic. I imagined myself and Shirodkar sitting on the fourth bench. There were others like Surya and Kevda, Sukdi and Mahesh, and others. Ghasu Gokhale and Mirikar were sitting on the first bench. The teachers were Sathe ma’am and Mohite sir or Paranjpe ma’am and Zende sir.

  No one would tease any one. Everyone would be focused on studies as there was no reason for any distraction when the one you wanted was sitting next to you.

  I was thrilled with the idea. That day while coming out of the classroom in the mid-break, I saw Sukdi. We did not talk, but her knowing smile said everything. I returned her smile.

  The half-yearly results were announced a few days after school reopened. I had come tenth while Chitre stood fifth. Bibikar, as usual, came first, followed by Ghasu Gokhale and Mirikar. I had slipped two ranks since last year. Teredesai and Deshpande had moved up. I was scared of my performance in the Social Science paper but luckily had managed fifty-five per cent. Shirodkar stood twelfth. I was happy I stood close to her. How I wished they would arrange the seating in the same order as the ranks.

  The school atmosphere was a little relaxed. The next two or three months were going to be fun. We would have our annual trip, guest lectures, sports and annual gathering—there would be many such programmes ahead. One good thing about our school is the constant stream of extra-curricular activities. Appa loves these things. It is not the case with the folks at Tope High School or Subhash Vidyalaya. They have their usual annual programme and that is it.

  The activities around the Emergency continued. Appa came up with a new song, ‘Maa tere beeson sapne sakar karenge hum’. It had something to do with the government’s twenty-point programme. It included work for the unemployed, good wages, equal rights, homes for the poor and so on.

  The meetings between Ashok, Vijay and KT had intensified. Earlier they used to play cricket with us, but nowadays they were busy holding meetings. Earlier they used to keep the door open, but now the door stayed shut. There was a constant stream of people coming and going.

  Ambabai threw a fit seeing my results. I had planned to show it to Baba in the evening, but she was all set to pounce on me the moment I entered the house. ‘Show me your progress report,’ she said the moment I stepped in. I handed it over to Aaisaheb and while she searched for her spectacles, Ambabai snatched and started reading it.

  ‘Wow! He has a good rank in two digits,’ she said, sarcasm pouring in. ‘Aai, our prince has managed a rank among the top ten.’

  Aaisaheb did not get her taunt.

  ‘What is his rank?’

  ‘Tenth! Earlier his Lordship used to come in the top five. He
is improving in geometric progression—five, ten, twenty, forty. So it would be great if he manages to pass in the tenth standard.’

  ‘Marks do not mean everything,’ I said. ‘Aai, give me something to eat.’

  ‘What do you mean marks do not mean anything. Then why don’t you get the first rank?’

  ‘What do you mean get? Is it some kind of a vegetable that I can buy in the market?’

  That incensed her further.

  ‘Aai, do you see how rudely he speaks? He says there is nothing great in getting a rank. Then can you explain doing what is great?’

  I realized there was no point in arguing with her. I left the snacks untouched on the table and quickly put on my sandals and stepped out. Aaisaheb tried calling out to me, but I ignored her. She would go back and shout at Ambabai. That would serve her right. I knew the way to upset Aaisaheb and make her shout—ask for some snack and not eat it. In any case I was not interested in her bland upma.

  I returned home by dinnertime. Ambabai was waiting for me to hand over the report card to Baba.

  ‘Baba, my report card.’

  ‘I have already signed it,’ he said, without taking his eyes off the newspaper. ‘It seems you have gone down by a few ranks.’

  ‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘I didn’t do well in one of the Social Science papers.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Civics. Even the History and Geography portions were absurd.’

  ‘Fine. Just ensure that you do not fail, okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, putting the report card back in my school bag. Ambabai looked at me and I made a bulldog-like face, but she was waiting to have her revenge during dinner time.

  ‘Baba, Mukund should join tuition classes now,’ she announced.

  Baba looked at me with raised eyebrows.

  ‘There is no need for extra tuition in class nine. My finals are not over yet,’ I said.

  ‘That’s the reason you should join now,’ she persisted.

  ‘I know Maths and English well.’

  ‘Knowing is not enough. How much have you scored in Maths?’

  I had got a hundred and ten out of one hundred and fifty, if you included Geometry and Algebra. It was quite okay, but Ambabai was a difficult customer.

  ‘You should join the classes immediately,’ she said.

  ‘Let us see,’ I said, using Baba’s favourite line.

  She persisted. ‘Don’t you want to be an engineer?’

  I did not continue the argument. Aaisaheb was certainly not on my side, but I was not sure if Baba would support me. I decided to keep quiet. I got up, washed my hands, and went out to watch a carrom game in progress.

  I went the next day towards Shirodkar’s house and sat at the usual place below the tamarind tree reading the newspaper. The regulars were there, including the man in the striped pyjamas. There was no point in speaking with anyone, so I kept to myself reading the papers.

  I was not expecting to see her and was about to get up when my patience bore fruit. I saw Shirodkar stepping out of her house along with another girl. She couldn’t have been her sister as she was quite dark. They both walked in the direction of the tamarind tree. My heart was beating loudly. I hid behind the tree, using the paper as an additional cover.

  They went to the Suyog General Store behind the tree. It struck me that I could go in there on the pretext of buying something. But I did not have any money in my pocket. But one could always ask for a graph notebook unlikely to be found in a general store; it was another of Chitre’s ideas. But my heart was beating wildly and the hollow in my stomach was getting deeper. I could not move an inch and continued to sit there. There was, of course, the problem of the other girl accompanying her.

  They bought something from the store and started walking back the way they had come. They did not look around else they could have spotted me.

  I was angry at myself. I had sat here for days in the hope of seeing her. I had seen her now and I could have easily gone in there and spoken to her. There was no need to worry about the other girl. I had missed a huge opportunity. Now I could sit there until eternity without achieving anything! I cursed myself.

  But there was no point in getting upset. I knew I got mortified and tongue-tied, and my body went limp, the moment I saw her. I returned home with a heavy heart. But the fact that I had seen her was something to feel good about.

  As the days passed by, I found myself constantly thinking of her. It did not take much effort anyway; it came about naturally. It was better in school when I could watch her while pretending to look ahead at the blackboard. But she was with me even while returning home, in the paddy fields, while watching carrom at night, at dinnertime and even while drinking water. I would feel her presence around me all the time. It was a warm sensation, which left me thirsting for more. I knew something was happening to me but could not put a finger on it. I was floating and feeling suffocated at the same time. I could feel her close by when she was absent, but she would seem lost in the distant clouds when I could see her.

  Surya too was probably going through a similar phase. He would sit in the building and, putting his hand to his chest, keep repeating Kewda’s name. Phawdya once teased him saying he was probably just waiting to paw her. Surya flew into a rage and shouted at Phawdya.

  ‘I’ll break your jaw, bhenchod! It is nothing like that. To me she’s a pure goddess—my queen. I don’t have any such thoughts for her.’

  Then he sat by the window, closed his eyes and said, ‘I imagine Kevda as the goddess on the Mumbra hill. I am her devotee waiting at the foothills for her visitation. It is such a nice feeling to think of her. It is like going to a temple.’

  After watching Sholay for the third time, he said,‘You know what I dreamt last night? I was sitting out in the verandah playing the mouth-organ while Kevda watched me, closing one door after another.’

  I liked the dream. Chitre said the dream was fantastic. But he had no need to dream. Kevda was, in reality, knocking at his door and visiting his house. He had progressed a lot during the Diwali holidays, he confessed to me one day.

  The paddy fields were barren now. Sometime during the Diwali holidays, Shankar’s father had harvested the crop. The bundles of harvested crop lay in a corner for a while. They too were removed later and nothing remained in the fields except the stubble. Animals from the nearby fields came in to graze and after a few days the stubble too vanished. The land was dry and there was no need to go along the fringes. Shankar’s father had flattened a part of the field to thresh the rice. That became a temporary pitch for boys to play cricket on. The small boys could not play for long as the fields were occupied by the elder lads from Kanhe village, who would spend the whole day playing cricket and other games there. There were no Test matches happening during that time except for the visiting Sri Lankan team. They were no match for us Indians. They had not even achieved Test match status yet.

  Ambabai continued to harp on my need to join tuition classes. The scene would be repeated each evening and, while Aaisaheb had not yet firmed up her mind on the subject, it would not take much time for Ambabai to influence her.

  I had no plans to join the tuition classes—in ninth or ever! None of us in our gang wanted to take tuitions. Surya, unfortunately, had no choice as Bhadbhade sir went and taught him each evening. His father had given him a place at a lesser rent on the condition that he would teach his son. Surya would have loved to go out each evening in search of Kevda but had to sit and study instead. Bhadbhade sir was newly married and in dire need of a place; he was unlikely to let go of such an opportunity. Chitre had no need to join a class and Phawdya had no time for it. The tuition classes in our town were the most boring places of all. They did not have large, airy rooms like those in our school. They were held in cramped, stuffy rooms. And the worst part was to listen to the same stuff, which had been taught in school. The same equations, the same theorems—how boring!

  Chitre has a point—he says if you don’t understand s
omething in school, you can always refer to the books, or else you can ask the teachers. You cannot clarify your doubts in tuition classes. They run like trains, one batch after the other. I would rather go to Kendalkar sir’s classes. He may shout, but he will go to great lengths to explain until your doubt is clarified. But who would explain this to Ambabai and Aaisaheb? They believe tuitions are the panacea. They would be happy to have tuitions morning, noon and evening. They do not understand our need to go out and experience the world. They believe we don’t need to play or do anything else once we get to class nine.

  The next day I was at the free library, whiling away my time, when I met Pingle. He had been in our school earlier but had since joined Subhash Vidyalaya.

  ‘Joshi? What are you doing here?’

  ‘I had gone to the library,’ I said. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Tuition!’ he said, looking at the notebooks in his hand.

  ‘Where do you go?’ I asked.

  ‘To Deshmane sir’s classes,’ he said.

  I had heard of this Deshmane sir. He was in Subhash and was known to teach well. Earlier he used to teach at home after school hours, but when some of the parents complained, he left his job and started taking classes full-time.

  ‘Are you taking classes for all subjects?’

  ‘No. Just English and Maths.’

  ‘Is anyone from our class attending the tuition with you?’ I asked.

  ‘No. No one from our class,’ he said. He thought for a moment and then said, ‘But there are two girls.’

  ‘Which ones?’

  ‘Shirodkar and Mande.’

  A bolt of lightning hit me. Shirodkar was attending tuition with this guy. No wonder I had not seen her in the evenings. Here I was, sitting like a fool waiting to see her, while she was busy attending tuitions!