Shala

by Milind Bokil

  ‘What are your timings?’

  ‘Six to seven in the evening.’

  ‘Does he teach well?’

  ‘Okay. Not great but at least he does not shout. That’s the good part.’

  I returned home that evening forming a plan in my head. The moment I saw Ambabai, I said, ‘I had gone enquiring about tuition classes. I have found a good one.’

  ‘Which is….?’

  ‘Deshmane sir’s. Do you know he was in Subhash Vidyalaya earlier?’

  ‘Really?’ she said. ‘When do you intend to join the classes?’

  ‘I will go and meet him one of these days,’ I said, trying not to sound too eager.

  The next day I dropped my bag at home and rushed over to the tuition classes. I knew the place. One batch was just getting over. I looked around but could not see Shirodkar anywhere. I decided to meet Deshmane sir before the next batch began.

  ‘You are most welcome,’ he said, dusting his hands. ‘But there is no place in this batch. You can come for the next batch or for a batch in the morning.’

  ‘No, sir. I need to come for this batch,’ I persisted.

  ‘Where will you sit? There is no place. The batch is full. And what is so special about this batch? You can come in the morning. Or the next one too is fine. Do you have any constraints?’

  As if a bulb lit up in my head, I said, ‘Yes, sir. I work,’ I lied through my teeth, ‘That’s why I cannot come for the later batch. Or the morning batch.’

  He pondered for a moment and then, picking up the duster and chalk, said, ‘Okay baba. You may try. Someone or the other is absent each day. Try your luck.’

  I silently bowed before the blackboard and decided to join the class right away. The classes were held in his house. The otherwise large room was stuffed with benches. There was very little space in the aisles to walk. There was one window on the girls’ side and a single tubelight for the entire room. The students shared the bench, three to one. Pingle asked his partner to move to the other bench and invited me to join him.

  Shirodkar came in a little late and sat with the girls. She did not notice me. She continued to look straight ahead at the blackboard and was busy making notes. I felt good. Deshmane sir’s teaching was similar to our Halbe sir’s, but who cared. I was not there to learn! We were sitting three to a bench and the classroom was getting stuffy, but it was all fine. All that mattered was that I could see her.

  When the class got over, I deliberately came out of the class along with the girls, hoping to catch her attention. I turned back and shouted out loudly for Pingle. I had plans to follow her after class, but unfortunately Pingle came in and, putting his arms around my shoulders, said, ‘Come. Let us go over to my house. It is nice to meet an ex-classmate after a long time.’ I had no choice but to go with him. But it was fine. I did not resist. I had found a way to see her again every evening, and that was enough.

  Ambabai was happy at my having finally joined the tuition classes. That the teacher was from her favourite Subhash Vidyalaya was a double bonanza. That day I understood the real meaning of the phrase, ‘to kill two birds with one stone.’

  The next day we gathered at our adda and I told the gang about the classes.

  ‘Joshi, saale! You said you wouldn’t join any classes, didn’t you?’ Chitre asked.

  ‘Yes, but what could I do? My sister was making my life miserable.’

  ‘Chaila! I too should join some classes,’ Phawdya muttered. ‘But I don’t have time either in the morning or evening.’

  ‘I am not going to join any classes,’ Chitre said. ‘What they teach here is enough to tire the brain out.’

  Surya was already stuck in a home tuition. He asked me right away, ‘Anyone from our school there?’

  I was expecting it and had prepared an answer for the same. They would come to know about Shirodkar sooner or later, so there was no point in hiding the fact. I said, without any hesitation, ‘There are a few girls, but I could not see them well. It’s a very cramped, crowded room, you know. You remember Pingle who was with us earlier? He is there.’

  ‘I hope you are not going there after someone you fancy?’ Surya wanted to know.

  ‘What are you saying? I had to join the class to keep Ambabai at bay,’ I said. I spotted Kevda passing by and immediately distracted him with, ‘Look, your heartthrob is going by.’

  ‘Is she? Ichibhana, should you not tell me earlier?’ Surya went over to the window and peered down, muttering, hand on chest, ‘Hai meri Kevda! What do I do? Bhenchod, Chitre, I keep asking you, but you won’t ever introduce me to her, will you?’

  Kevda looked pretty with flowers in her hair, her dress neatly ironed.

  ‘But I need to know her before I can introduce you, isn’t it?’ Chitre responded.

  ‘Hai meri rani! I must do something soon,’ he sighed, looking down at her.

  That day when Manjrekar sir was in the class, Appa entered without any warning. The students stood up and said ‘Namaste sir’ in unison. Appa had a girl accompanying him. He came in and addressed the class,

  ‘Sit down please. You have a new classmate joining you from today. She’s from Mumbai. Her father got transferred, hence she’s joining school in mid-term. Please introduce yourself.’

  ‘Anita Ambekar,’ she said in a clear, confident voice.

  We all looked at her with a mixture of surprise and awe. Girls are girls, but this one was different. She was a dish! Most of the students who join school are shy and look down at the floor, but she looked at us, straight in the eye. The girls were impressed and gaped at her open-mouthed. Even Manjrekar sir fell silent.

  Appa guided her to one of the benches in the front row and asked her to sit there.

  ‘Who is your class teacher?’ he asked. ‘Oh, yes! Paranjpe ma’am, isn’t it? She’ll come and write her name in the register. Please continue with the class.’

  We relaxed a little after Appa left, but the air was full of anticipation.

  ‘What a lovely chick she is!’ whispered Surya.

  I did not reply.

  ‘So, which school do you come from?’ Manjrekar sir asked her.

  ‘Saint Mary’s, Bandra,’ she replied in the same confident voice.

  We were all stunned. Bandra! Wow! We rarely hear the anglicized version of Bandre. We knew Dadar, Mahim and Bandre. But Bandra! And that too pronounced as Band-ra! This was rare. Chitre’s mavshi stays there and he visits her sometimes. What’s more, she was coming from an English-medium school. A convent! We would have ragged a newcomer to death but this case was different.

  The Ambekar girl was quiet on the first day, but the next day she created a tremor of sorts.

  She walked up to Bibikar and said, ‘Bibikar, would you lend me your notebooks?’ She had found out he was one of the better students.

  Bibikar was dumbfounded and didn’t know what to say. Never before had a girl borrowed his notebooks. She did not wait for him to answer and asked Ghasu Gokhale. He was quick on the uptake and retorted, ‘Why don’t you ask one of the girls?’

  ‘Do you have any problem in lending me your books?’ she asked. ‘The girls act pricey. Do lend me yours. You come first or second in the class, isn’t it?’

  He lent her one of his notebooks. She did not stop there. Within a few days, she knew the names of all the boys. She realized quickly that the nerdy guys on the front bench were not of much use and turned to make friends with us back-benchers. One day, when we had a few free classes and held a cricket match with nine-d, Phawdya took five wickets and Chitre hit three fours back to back. She walked up to us saying, ‘Congratulations, Pawar. You played a great game. Chitre, you too played well.’

  Chitre was a cool cucumber. He was used to the girls from Bandra and just nonchalantly brushed his hand through his hair. But Phawdya was clean bowled. He asked after she had left, ‘What did she say? Congress session? What does that have to do with cricket?’

  We laughed heartily. That day onwards, we teased him to dea
th on the subject.

  I consciously kept my distance from Ambekar but Dashrath, Harishchandra, Santya, and others fell for her. Sometimes she cycled to school and once, when the tyre was punctured, asked Dashrath to get it repaired. He not only got the work done but also delivered it to her house. She asked Harishchandra to get a rose plant and requested Santya to get a stone pestle and mortar for her house. Her house was in Kanhe village where Surya lived. She didn’t spare him either.

  ‘Mhatre,’ she approached him one day. ‘Would you take care of that guy who sits in the laundry shop—the one in the corner. He whistles whenever I pass by.’

  ‘Who are you talking about?’ Surya asked.

  ‘The one who sits in that Ganesh Laundry—that dark fellow.’

  Surya had been waiting for such an opportunity. He took Dashrath along with him. There was no need really because the fellow pissed in his pants the moment he saw Surya. Surya warned him and returned elated, with his collars turned up. He boasted, ‘If you have any trouble with any guy, just tell me. I don’t allow anyone to mess with any of the girls in my class.’

  Surya decided to put his offer into action. He targeted Thombre from eleventh standard. Ever since Ambekar had joined, the boys from tenth and eleventh standards had started making rounds of our class. Surya had seen her smile at Thombre. He was a body builder and had won a few competitions representing the school. We boys believed some of the ma’ams too flirted with him, especially that shorty Pawaskar ma’am. She was unmarried and was a temporary teacher in the laboratory. Thombre had bulging biceps. But he was a decent fellow who minded his own business. He used to sometimes come over to our classroom in the mid-break. He commented once, a tad loudly, ‘You guys have got some nice mangoes ripening this season in your class, isn’t it?’

  Ambekar had smiled hearing him. But Surya, along with Harishchandra, decided to challenge him.

  ‘I heard you are eyeing the girls in my class, bhenchod.’

  ‘Mhatre, you don’t get into this. And don’t use foul language.’

  ‘So, what will you do? Huh?’ Surya challenged him.

  Thombre could have easily punched Surya unconscious. He had arms of steel, but he did not want to stretch the argument. Luckily, the bell rang and the scene ended. But Surya was keen to pursue it and tried to get his relatives in the tenth and eleventh standards on his side. Unfortunately for him, he found they too had an eye on Ambekar. One of them said, ‘Oh boy! I would love to take her to the woods and suck those mangoes!’ Surya decided to drop the matter.

  Ambekar was popular with the boys, but the girls decided to boycott her. She was not liked by any of them because she talked freely with the boys. She was very good in English and became a favourite of Bendre ma’am’s. That irritated the girls further. Sukdi, otherwise a cool girl, had an argument with Ambekar within a matter of days.

  It was only later that we came to know of Ambekar’s real preference. While she would give a sweet, coy smile to the boys from higher classes, her heart was set on Manjrekar sir. She would sit quietly in other classes but become very vocal in Manjrekar sir’s class, raising her hands and chanting ‘sir, sir’ for every question asked by him. She would sometimes rest her chin on her palm and giggle to herself. Manjrekar sir too liked her and would often ask, ‘Understood?’ directing the question at her alone. Soon the news of him being partial to her spread. We had never scribbled any comments against Manjrekar sir in the toilets because he was our favourite, but Teredesai’s sister told him that the girls had written about both of them in the ladies’ toilet. The message read that a particular teacher really loved Ambe, which meant mangoes in Marathi. It had to be a prank played by some girl from our class. It was obvious. A fresh round of gossip began in school.

  I started attending the tuition classes in earnest. Shirodkar too was sincere. But within a few days, I realized that this was just another form of school. At least in school, we had enough time to play some prank or the other, but in this class there was no time at all. Moreover, I had no friends here. My school would get over at 5:20. I would have just enough time to go home, drop my bag, gulp down a cup of tea and leave for tuition class. Shirodkar too must be experiencing similar problems. We had no time after the class. It would be dark and she would head home with the other girls.

  It dawned on me that this was taking me nowhere. It was just a waste of time. She would never know the real reason for my joining the class. She never looked at me in the class. She seemed to have forgotten all the things I had done for her sake—the beating I got in Bendre ma’am’s class, the grass doll in the Scouts period and the way I had stared at her in the Social Science exam—everything! She did not show any interest, even if she harboured it. As Naru mama rightly said, ‘No one can fathom a girl’s thoughts!’

  I knew each day was being wasted. There was no point in continuing in this fashion. I thought of the long road ahead. We had to clear ninth, tenth, go to college, find a job…I had to make a start! I knew I would not get any time or opportunity next year. Class ten was no joke! Ambabai and Aaisaheb would sit on my head and not allow me to breathe. And then we had eleventh and twelfth standards, too, to boot! The pressure would only escalate. What is the guarantee she would be in my class then? She would, in all probability, opt for Arts. If by then we were going steady, I could ask her to join the same college as mine. Colleges normally have both Science and Arts streams. Even if she did not join my college we could meet every evening. I would study all day and spend all evening with her! I would get into engineering. And then I would not care if everyone came to know of our affair. I could tell them proudly and roam around without a care in the world.

  I could see the road ahead with clarity. The problem was solving the issue at hand. Now! But Shirodkar seemed immune to all this. I had no clue how to let her know. I was tempted to write to Naru mama seeking advice. I could use the fictional character of Manoj Desai, but I was worried he may say something to Aaisaheb. So I dropped the idea.

  One day I decided to excuse myself from Pingle saying I had to go to Misal’s house. I left the moment the class got over and moved towards the lane leading to Shirodkar’s house. I stood near a shop. It was getting dark and she would not see me standing there.

  I spotted Shirodkar walking along with two other girls. One of them was Mande from our class; the other girl was not known to me. I began to follow them at a safe distance, walking slowly. They turned near the temple and walked along Gandhi road. The other road led to the stone well and I knew that they would not go that way. They turned again near the kirana store. There were a few lights on the road, but it was not bright enough. Mande turned and went into a lane and the other two continued walking. The road led to Phadke Hospital and further to the tamarind tree. I knew Shirodkar’s house would come soon. There was a small lane next to the road. The two stopped there for a moment and then, seeing her friend off, Shirodkar walked ahead, alone.

  My heart began to throb. My lips went dry. The Municipality lights had been lit, but the overgrown trees blocked most of the light. She was wearing a dark skirt and a white-and-yellow floral print blouse. She walked at her own pace, unaware I was following her.

  As expected, the lane turned towards her house. The lane had a row of houses, most of them covered by big trees. There were no shops on the road, nor any traffic. She could have easily spotted me if she had turned around just once.

  I was expecting her to reach the tamarind tree and then turn into the lane leading to her house, but she jumped over a narrow drain near a house and vanished. Probably this was a short cut.

  I followed suit, jumping over the drain. She came into sight again and I realized the road ended right in front of the Devgiri bungalow next to her house. So this was her route; no wonder I had never seen her while waiting under the tamarind tree.

  Before I could reach the road, she had gone inside the house. The Devgiri bungalow stood silently in the darkness. Waiting there any further was of no use. But now I had discove
red the route she took. I returned home, floating on air.

  The next day I was trying to think of an excuse to shrug off Pingle, but luckily he did not turn up. What a relief. It would be great if he were to be absent each day. I had decided I would follow her the moment the class got over.

  As expected, the three girls took the same route. The other girl did not turn into the lane leading to her house but continued walking with Shirodkar. I had a fleeting doubt Shirodkar had seen me following them. I kept a safe distance. They both went into Shirodkar’s house. Maybe the other girl needed to borrow a notebook. I lingered and on my return encountered the girl accompanying Shirodkar. I wondered whether she recognized me. She might have wondered what I was doing in that part of the town, but I coolly ignored her and continued walking past. I had expected Shirodkar to come see her off at the gate, but there was no one there. The lamp in the verandah burnt brightly.

  I analysed the situation carefully. It was not possible to excuse myself from Pingle every day. Following the girls too seemed a waste of time. They went together most of the way and, after seeing off her friends, Shirodkar, briskly walked through the lane leading to her house giving me hardly any time to speak to her. It was not worth the while to let her know I was following them. Girls don’t like being followed. It scares them off.

  I had to create a situation where I could meet her coming in from the opposite direction. It had to look like a chance meeting.

  I realized I had been a fool to take the same batch as hers. A total idiot! Had I taken the next batch I could have easily met her before the classes began. Deshmane sir had been asking me to take the next batch. But there was no possibility of changing batches now. I could sit and curse my luck forever.

  I thought hard and came to a conclusion. There was no need to change the batch. All I had to do was to bunk the tuition classes and meet her on the road.

  I was a little scared about my bold decision. I was not nervous about Deshmane sir. He never asked anyone why he or she was absent. He never took attendance, in fact. But the question was—where to wait for her?