by Milind Bokil
‘I think of you all the time at home,’ I said, steeling myself. My heart was beating hard when I said that, but then there was also an enormous sense of relief.
I knew her response. She would give me that knowing smile and then leave immediately. And that smile would be heavenly. And that’s what happened!
I was floating high up in the air. I felt like I was on top of the Everest. Everything below was hidden in the mist. I did not go home immediately. I looked at my watch—there were twenty minutes for the class to get over. Ambabai would be suspicious if I reached early. I could not tell her the class had been cancelled. I normally reach home a little late, hanging out with friends after class. For a moment, I thought of spending time at Phawdya’s vegetable shop, but there was a danger of being spotted there by Ambabai or one of her many friends. I decided to visit Chitre. He was busy experimenting with some gears from a wristwatch. I went home after spending some time with him.
I was nervous when I reached home. I was not sure what Ponkshe kaku would have told Aaisaheb. She may not have come and complained immediately but the danger remained. I was lost in thought when Aaisaheb served me dinner. When she asked me whether I wanted some more subji, I nodded yes, much to Ambabai’s surprise. The vegetable in question was the mushy bottlegourd, which otherwise I don’t care much for. I spent some time outside, watching a few chess games. I had kept my Algebra textbook open as an alibi for my studies.
The next day at school was what I was really worried about. We had taken care of Bibikar, so I was sure the boys would not dare to tease me, but there was no guarantee of what the girls would do. There was no way of stopping them. They had earlier teased Ambekar and Sukdi. And girls like Mande would be waiting for a chance to tease Shirodkar. They would not allow such a golden opportunity to go by.
I decided to keep a low profile in the first three periods. The birdies were chattering away as usual while some of the smarties like Bibikar and Ghasu Gokhale were in their elements but, much to my relief, no untoward incident happened. But in the next class, which was Zende sir’s, when Sir asked Shirodkar a question and she took a little time to answer, Surya loudly shouted out ‘Joshi!’ much to the amusement of the entire class. Quite obviously, Sir did not understand the context, but there was a general murmur in the class. Surya, of course, got an immediate snub when Sir asked him a question and, when he could not reply, taunted, ‘You are the sheth of Kanhe village. What’s the need for you to study?’
I was expecting Shirodkar to get angry at Surya’s comment, but she did not react. In fact, when I tried glancing at her in the mid-break, she returned my glance with a slight smile. I was not sure whether her friends had teased her. I decided not to respond to Surya’s comments and add fuel to the fire. I deliberately started a conversation involving Sakhardande, Ambekar and Bendre ma’am in the mid-break to divert their attention.
I knew I was going to do something no one else was aware of. It was our little secret, mine and Shirodkar’s. I wanted to laugh out loud just thinking of it. No one in class would ever know. I glanced in the direction of the playground and the hills beyond Sonarpada shining brightly in the hot sun. In the next period, Halbe sir droned in his usual monotone while I gazed out and enjoyed the scenery.
That day I realized where the real fun lay. There may be classrooms, benches, girls, boys, teachers, Maths, Physics - even Social Studies. But I am not a part of any of them. I am a free soul, like the white egret sitting on a cow’s back. I may be physically present in this school, but there is a different school which I hold in my mind - one that is just mine. That school has no walls, no blackboards, no teachers, but it teaches something truly beautiful.
I reached her house that evening and was disappointed to find no one at the gate. I was expecting her. I waited for a few moments, unsure of the next steps. The gate had a wooden latch, but I did not dare enter. I looked around, but there wasn’t anyone in sight. Luckily, no one walked by. I waited for sometime. I could not call out for anyone. Finally, I steeled myself and opened the gate. I turned to put the latch back when she came out into the verandah. She smiled brightly.
She was wearing a white frock which had lace all over—the kind of frock girls wear in school when dressed as a fairy in a dance programme. She looked like a freshly blossomed flower. I realized I should have worn a new shirt.
‘Come,’ she said. ‘I was wondering whether you would come or not.’
I did not know what to say. I continued to look at her, smiling. The verandah had two large stone pillars supporting the roof—the kind I had seen in the temple. There was a grill window covered with a floral curtain. Near the entrance was a jute doormat similar to the one in my house. I removed my sandals and stood there.
‘Why don’t you come in?’ she asked and then, turning towards the room, shouted, ‘Aai, come and see—Joshi from my class is here.’
The drawing hall was quite large, almost the size of two of our rooms put together. There were two more windows on the left side covered with similar curtains but light filtered through, brightening up the room. A door led to the kitchen. There was another door through which I could see a few hibiscus plants in the backyard. Two more doors in the corner led to other rooms. I could not see what lay inside as they had curtains.
Her mother came out of one of the inner rooms followed by her younger brother, who ran into the hall.
‘This is Joshi from my class,’ she said. ‘I told you the other day, remember? He is the one who beats everyone at word games.’
I kept looking at her mother. She was beautiful and fair like Chitre’s mother. She was wearing a bright yellow saree—the kind I had seen on the Goddess during Gauri puja. She wore a huge red bindi on her forehead. She had tied her hair into a large bun and decorated it with aboli flowers.
I kept staring like an idiot for a while and then it dawned on me! Despite the notebooks, I quickly folded my hands in a smart namaskar. She laughed. Her laughter was sweeter than Shirodkar’s.
‘Is that so?’ she said. ‘And where do you stay?’
‘Kudalkar chawl,’ I said.
‘Where is it?’
How was I to answer that? She would not know where Kudalkar chawl was. Most people staying in their part of the town would not know.
‘It is a little before Dhaparewadi,’ I tried explaining. ‘On Devpada road.’
She probably did not get it, but she nodded saying, ‘Oh I see, I see.’ My chest was pounding loudly. I was struggling to speak. Her younger sister came into the hall from another room.
‘This is my brother Sandeep,’ Shirodkar said. ‘And this is my sister.’
I knew them and there was no need to get them introduced. For some reason, I assumed that her brother’s name would be Raju. I was worried that her younger sister may recognize me as she had come to the temple the other day. But she did not. They both looked at me as if they were meeting me for the first time.
‘Sit down,’ her Aai said. She noticed the books in my hand and asked, ‘Did you have tuition today?’
‘No. I had to return these to Misal,’ I said, looking at my books.
I had thought of it when I left home. Carrying notebooks would make her mother wonder whether we had bunked, but then I had no choice. Not carrying notebooks was worse; Aaisaheb would have smelt a rat.
I was about to sit down when Shirodkar asked, ‘Do you want to see our garden?’
I kept the notebooks on the teapoy and followed her out into the garden. Sandeep and her sister followed us. There wasn’t much grass in the garden, but there were a lot of small shrubs and bushes. Most of them seemed to be some kind of flowering plants. The flower beds were neatly lined with half-cut bricks. There were a lot of aboli shrubs.
‘This is a rose creeper,’ she said. ‘And this one is mogra. This is bramhakamal. It flowers only once a year. This is jai creeper and that one is green champa. Do you want to take some flowers for your sister?’
I looked at her, my mouth agape. Ambabai w
ould love to have these flowers, but there was no way I could take them. Firstly, she would not believe I got flowers for her. And if I were to tell her where I got them from, both Aaisaheb and Ambabai would fall off their seats.
‘No,’ I lied. ‘She doesn’t wear flowers.’
We walked around the garden for a while. Her sister and Sandeep were in tow, but the very act of walking around with her was a pleasant one. Naru mama was right; one should not try meeting a girl anywhere outside. One should simply go over to her house. And if the house is a bungalow with a garden like this one, I could go there every day.
‘Tai! Show him the rose buds,’ her younger sister piped up.
‘Look at this one,’ she said, pointing to a rose sapling in a pot. ‘It is her work. They have been taught grafting in their school.’
We too had had such gardening lessons in our school. She had grafted a thin stem to a thick one and wrapped a plastic sheet around the joint.
‘Shall I show you my snail?’ Sandeep asked.
‘Sure,’ I said.
Sandeep got a matchbox kept in one corner. There was a snail inside, curled up in the shell. Sandeep lifted the snail and put it on the floor, but it would not come out. He tried poking it with a twig.
‘Don’t trouble it,’ Shirodkar said. ‘Leave it be. We will see it later.’
We walked around the garden and then went inside.
‘Hey, what shall we play?’ her sister popped a question.
I was taken aback. Did they think I was visiting to play with them? I looked askance at Shirodkar.
‘Wait a while,’ she said. ‘We’ll see later.’
I was hoping her sister and Sandeep would get busy with their own games and leave us alone, but they continued to sit there. There was a couch on one side with two chairs. They had cotton cushions on them, with some embroidery work on the covers. I had seen Ambabai do such work. There was a teapoy and another low cot to sit on. The walls were lined with big boxes, which doubled as additional seats. The boxes were covered with bedcovers. I noticed her father’s name painted on the boxes.
‘What will you have?’ her mother asked, coming into the hall. ‘Tea or coffee?’
‘No. I am good,’ I said.
‘Why? What do you have at home? Milk?’
‘No. I have tea.’
‘Then have tea here,’ she said. ‘Why are you saying no?’
We sat in the hall. I wasn’t sure what to talk about when Sandeep came out of the room carrying a bat. He dumped a ball in my lap and then went and stood near the wall.
‘Throw the ball,’ he said.
‘Arre! Why are you playing inside the house?’ Shirodkar shouted.
‘Five. Just five balls,’ he pleaded.
I was tempted to bowl him out, spinning the ball the way Phawdya does, but then I decided to gently lob the ball. But he still missed it. I then let the ball bounce twice and he was able to hit it. The younger sister sat in one corner with a long face.
‘Go, get your stamp notebook,’ Shirodkar told her. She brightened up and then went inside to get her notebook. There were stamps stuck on each page. She then sat next to me and showed me each page indicating the country—this is Nepal, this is Norway, this is Canada, and so on. I managed to snatch a glance at Shirodkar when she had gone in to get the notebook, and we exchanged a knowing smile.
I remembered I too used to collect stamps earlier. We had one Mr Potnis as our neighbour and he would get letters from some of his relatives staying abroad. I would remove the stamps from the envelopes and store them in a packet.
‘I too have some stamps. I will give them to you,’ I said.
‘Aiyaa, really? How nice!’ she exclaimed. ‘Tai, remind him.’
Her mother came in with tea. I was sure that it would not be just a cup of tea. There would be some snacks too. She carried a large cake in another plate.
‘Here. See if you like this cake,’ she said, handing me the tea cup.
The cake was home-made and it tasted really nice. Aaisaheb tries making a cake, putting some sand on a tawa and a baking vessel over it, but it does not turn out as well. It invariably gets burnt at the bottom. But this one was uniformly soft and nice. I was quite sure it would be good.
‘What are these boxes for?’ I asked, indicating at the row of boxes along the wall.
‘Arre! Her father you know! He gets transferred every now and then. We use them to pack our stuff,’ her mother said. ‘Did you like the cake?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then have some more,’ she said. ‘Sandu, you too have some.’
I heard footsteps at the door and then her Akka walked in. I was quite sure it was her Akka by the way she walked in. She glanced at me and would have understood that I was Shirodkar’s classmate.
‘Classmate,’ her mother said.
‘Oh, is that so?’ she said, smiling and then asked me, ‘What is your name?’
I told her my name and she smiled. She was as beautiful as Marathe—in fact, a little taller. One look at her and I knew all the boys in her college must pine for her.
‘His sister’s in college too,’ Shirodkar said.
‘Which one?’
I told her the name, but she was not aware of it. She was in a Commerce college, so it was unlikely that they would know each other.
‘He calls his sister Ambabai,’ Shirodkar said.
‘Really!’ she exclaimed and both of them burst out laughing.
I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I looked at her and she was still laughing. Then I too joined in their laughter.
‘Will you have tea?’ her mother asked her sister. ‘There is some left. Your father is expected any minute.’
‘No. I had a cup at Kedare’s place,’ she said and then went inside.
We then talked for some more time. Sandeep would ask me to throw the ball at him once in a while. The younger sister tried playing the word game with me. I knew all the words. I then tested her by giving a few easy ones. When I tried a difficult one, she was stumped. Even Shirodkar could not guess the answer. Her Akka came out once to attempt and then gave up. I was eager and at the same time a little nervous about her father coming in. I prayed that his local train may get late, but then I was also eager to see what he looked like.
He came after a while. Sandeep dropped his bat and jumped on to him. He exclaimed, ‘Arre, arre’ but then caught him mid-air. He was, as I had imagined—fair, bespectacled, a little bald and clean-shaven. He was wearing a yellow shirt with some floral design and it was tucked inside his trousers unlike my Baba who never tucks in his half-sleeved shirt. He seemed a little tired. He sat down on the sofa to remove his shoes when he saw me. My heart was beating hard.
‘Who is this?’ he asked. He did not seem irritated.
‘He is my classmate,’ Shirodkar said. ‘Joshi.’
I knew what I had to do when introduced. I was ready with a smile and a namaskar with folded hands. He was pleased.
‘Namaskar, namaskar!’ he said, smiling. He then asked the next question, as expected, ‘What does your father do?’
‘He is in the Sachivalaya,’ I said
‘Oh, is that so? Which department?’
I was going to say ‘Shikshan’ in Marathi but managed to say ‘Education’.
‘Nice!’ he said, as expected. He then looked at her mother and asked, ‘So have you offered tea to Joshi saheb? I wouldn’t mind a cup either; if there is any.’
They laughed at his comment. I was blushing and wanted to hide my face. He then walked out of the room patting my back. Shirodkar smiled, enjoying the banter.
I knew it was time for me to leave. That’s the norm in most households—you leave when the friend’s dad arrives. Everyone gets busy after that. Ambabai’s friends start leaving the moment Baba arrives.
I stood up after a while.
‘Do come again,’ her mother said.
‘And don’t forget the stamps,’ the younger one reminded.
‘Next time we
will play in the garden,’ Sandeep added.
Shirodkar and her Akka did not say anything but smiled. I looked back while opening the latch at the gate and she waved. I took a little extra time to put the latch back.
I was absolutely at peace with myself. I had nothing more to desire. I had got what I had wanted. Walking back home, I could clearly see everything on the road despite the darkness—the stone well, Urban Bank building, Vaishali Cloth stores, Pendse Doodh Mandir, Khoja Bakery, Om Market and so on. There was nothing to fear any more. There were no worries. All my troubles were over. I could now be peaceful and carefree. There was no need to be worried of the boys teasing me. And even if they did, there was no need to react or hide things.
I decided I needed to tell everything at home. I would wait for an opportune moment to tell—‘Aai, there is this girl in my class. She has two sisters and a brother. Her father is a bank manager. They are all very decent folks and you need not be worried. I will study well and try to get the first rank too. I will also do engineering as you want me to.’
I was sure that she would not get upset if I told her all this. She was quite nice, after all. And I was the only son, her pet. Everything was taken care of. All I had to do now was to clear my ninth and then tenth standard. And then once I passed twelfth standard and reached college, the whole world would be mine. I would be an adult. No one would bother me any more.
I reached home at dinnertime. Aaisaheb was giving finishing touches to the dinner and Baba was just back from office and removing his shirt. Ambabai’s friends had gone back. I went in, had a quick wash, and then took my place at the table to study. I opened up the Algebra book. The chapter on linear equations was a difficult one but I was able to solve them.
When we sat down to dinner, Baba said, ‘Mahajan from my office has suggested an alliance for Naru. She’s a B.Com and has a part-time job. Her father works in our office.’
‘What is their surname?’ Aaisaheb asked.
‘I am told they are Deshmukhs.’
‘Deshmukh?’ Aaisaheb wondered.
‘Yes. Yajurvedi.’
‘Yajurvedi! No way!’ Aaisaheb retorted. ‘Are there no girls left in our caste?’