by Milind Bokil
School got over and I took the path through the fields. I sat down on the rock the moment I reached the paddy fields. I did not have the heart to go home. I was better off in school. I did not feel like going for the tuition either. I dare not look at Shirodkar. Then I realized that it was the last day tuitions and the only chance to meet Shirodkar. I had to meet her and tell her the truth. I had to tell her that I was not at fault. I was merely standing next to Surya. She would otherwise believe that I had accosted Kevda on the road.
I hurriedly stood up. I did not have much time. Luckily, Ambabai was not at home and Aaisaheb was waiting for me; she had to go somewhere. That prevented any discussion and I quickly changed my clothes and left after gulping down a cup of tea.
But Shirodkar had not come to the class. Juvekar and Mande were present but she wasn’t.
I could not concentrate in the class. I could have bunked, but it was too late. I could not walk out now. And there was no point in bunking. I could not go to her house. There must have been a reason why she did not come. And going home was out of the question. It was better to postpone death as much as possible.
The class got over a little early. Sir wished us luck for the forthcoming exams and announced that the classes would start again in May. Those already attending classes would be given preference over others, and early birds would get a ten percent discount. Most of the boys had plans to continue there. Pingle asked, ‘Are you planning to continue?’ I did not answer. He smiled and said, ‘Ask her and then let me know. But I hope you come. It will be fun.’ The boys were saying their goodbyes and took advantage of the last day to wish the girls too. Juvekar looked at me while leaving and smiled at me muttering ‘okay then’ as she walked by. I was tempted to ask her why Shirodkar had not come but realized that she too may not know. I could not spot Mande in the crowd. I wondered whether Shirodkar had deliberately bunked the class today to avoid meeting me. Perhaps she did not want to speak to me. Why would she bunk on the last day of the class otherwise? The remaining hope had vanished and I felt completely drained. My legs felt like wax. I somehow managed to reach home.
Baba had returned from office and was having his tea. He was reading the newspaper sitting on the bed. Aaisaheb was busy inside the kitchen while Ambabai was immersed in a book. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. I washed my hands and feet. Then I drank some water but my mouth felt dry. I steeled myself and, going near the bed, said, ‘Baba, you have been asked to come to the school tomorrow.’
He looked at me and raised his eyebrows enquiringly.
‘You have been called,’ I repeated.
‘What is the reason?’ he asked.
‘That Suresh Mhatre from our class—he teased a girl last morning while she was on the way to school.’
‘Then?’
‘Her father has complained to the headmaster.’
‘So? How are we concerned?’
‘I was standing next to him. She mentioned my name too. Mhatre’s father has been asked to come and you too.’
Baba must have got the jist of the problem. His frown suggested he was lost in thought. Listening to our conversation, Ambabai shouted, ‘Aai! Did you hear that?’
Aaisaheb walked in. There was no need to shout. Her ears were too sharp in any case.
‘What happened?’ she asked, wiping her hands on a towel.
‘Listen to our prince’s exploits!’
‘What happened? Tell me.’
‘Nothing. Baba has been asked to come to school tomorrow,’ I said.
‘Tell her what for?’ Ambabai said.
I kept quiet. I knew she would say it on her own accord. She said, ‘They have teased one of the girls from school. The headmaster has called father to meet him.’
‘I did not do anything,’ I said. ‘Surya did.’
‘Then what were you doing there?’
‘I was just standing next to him.’
Baba raised his hand for me to stop. I feared the next question. He asked, ‘Have they sent a letter?’
‘Yes.’
‘Show it to me.’
I took out the letter from my bag and handed it to him. My chest was pounding and legs were shivering. Baba was in the education department. He had correctly surmised that the school would have issued a letter. He read the letter, and his face turned grim.
‘Show me,’ Aaisaheb said.
Baba handed over the letter without saying a word. Ambabai promptly peeped over to read it out.
‘Rascal! Is that why we put you in that school?’ Aaisaheb screamed after reading the letter. I was expecting that, but it still took me by surprise.
‘What have you done!’ she exclaimed.
‘Aai, I have done nothing wrong,’ I said.
‘Nothing wrong? Then why are they writing all this? Serious misbehaviour! Tell me the whole thing from the start.’
I then recounted the entire episode without, obviously, mentioning Surya’s dialogue.
‘But you were in school, isn’t it? Where were you guys standing then?’
‘At Mhatre’s building.’
‘What were you doing there?’
‘We assemble there every day before school begins.’
‘Assemble? What for?’
I kept quiet. I could not tell her the real reason. As expected, Ambabai interjected, ‘They sit there and tease the girls passing by.’
I did not want to respond to her comment but then I realized that silence would tantamount to admission of guilt.
‘Don’t blabber,’ I said.
‘Why? Is she wrong? What did that boy tell her?’
‘He asked whether she loves him or not?’ I said in a muted voice.
‘Oh God! Look at today’s children!’ Aaisaheb said wide-eyed. It looked like she had seen a ghost. ‘Arre! You are so young and you talk of love? Do you even understand the meaning of the word? Or are you imagining yourself to be avatars of Lord Krishna teasing the maids!’
I was tempted to smile. She would have erupted like a volcano had I smiled. I had not expected her to use such an appropriate simile despite her rage. We had not realized that we were behaving like Krishna teasing the gopis. Surya and Phawdya would have been tickled with this comparison. The only thing left to do was throwing stones and breaking their water pots.
Then Aaisaheb opened her canons. It was due for a long time and now she got a golden opportunity. How I was not interested in studies these days; I was in the company of rowdy boys; I was going to the classes to waste time on girls; how I was becoming a brute and a rascal day by day; how we were living in difficult times; how the parents were put to shame thanks to the actions of their sons and how we would be ridiculed by the entire samaj; how the school was to be blamed for bad behaviour including the behaviour displayed by some of the teachers; I was getting everything at home without having to ask for it and had not understood the value of hard earned money and was taking advantage of their goodness; how there was no chance of me becoming an engineer and how the deeds of today were an indication of the marks I was likely to get in matriculation. I felt like a soldier caught in a crossfire. Ambabai continued her job of adding fuel to the fire. She had the official sanction to do so. Baba, as usual, was quiet.
When Aaisaheb’s arsenal finally seemed to have emptied, he said, ‘What time are we to reach school?’
‘Eleven,’ I said.
‘I will have to take leave,’ he muttered. ‘Do one thing; go over to Chandorkar’s and give him my leave application. Tell him to hand it over in the office. He took out a blank sheet of paper and wrote an application for leave. I handed over the same to Chandorkar kaka when he asked, ‘Any problem?’
‘No. Just some house work,’ I said.
I could not sleep after dinner. Before lying down, I surreptitiously took out the dictionary to see the meaning of the word ‘accomplice’. It stated ‘partner in crime’, ‘a person who assits the criminal’, ‘an assistant’. My legs started to shake again. I was innocent, but they would assume I w
as helping Surya in committing the crime. And I was aware that if the main accused got life imprisonment, the accomplice was awarded rigorous imprisonment. They would love to teach both of us a lesson. On top of it, Baba would have to listen to the barbs of having bought up a criminal at home. He was a government official and would have no option but to listen quietly. I remember once Aaisaheb had asked Baba not to join the agitation against the lack of drinking water supply because he was a government officer and it was not right for him to take part in such morchas. The thought made me feel worse.
I woke up the next morning to find Baba, Aaisaheb and Ambabai having tea at the table and talking. I continued to pretend I was sleeping.
‘I am unable to understand what Mukund is upto,’ Aaisaheb said.
‘He is in bad company,’ Ambabai added. ‘I had told you—not to put him in that school.’
‘All schools are the same. They are involved in every activity but studies.’
‘This school is a little too much,’ Ambabai added.
‘Next year is critical,’ Aaisaheb continued. ‘If this fellow continues to behave so, I shudder to think what will happen. Perhaps we should change his school.’
‘Will you please listen?’ Baba said. ‘There is nothing so dramatic about it. Boys at this age behave so. One need not fear the worst.’
‘The problem is he does not fear you,’ Aaisaheb said. ‘You need to take action at the right time. Else it will be too late.’
We left at half past ten. We could have left ten minutes before eleven, but Baba decided to leave early. We took the route through the paddy fields. There was no danger of meeting anyone known to us had we taken the main road, but I wanted to play safe. I walked a few steps ahead of Baba. I used to walk next to him and, in fact, when I was small I would hold his hand. But that was a long time back.
We reached the fields. The sun was bright. There was no grass anywhere. There was no one in the fields. The woods seemed quiet too. I walked along the rocks when Baba called out to me. I stopped and Baba came near me. He put his arm around my shoulders and asked in a quiet voice, ‘Mukund, tell me honestly. Tell me exactly what happened?’
I looked around for a moment and then recounted the entire episode without hiding anything. I repeated what Surya had told Kevda.
‘What did the headmaster say?’ he asked.
‘He called us because her father had complained.’
‘And then?’
‘He caned us.’
‘You too?’
‘Yes. I was caned on my palms. Surya took the blows on his back, arms, everywhere. His shirt was torn.’
‘And what else did he say?’
‘He said, “accosting girls on the road? Aren’t you ashamed?”’ He then suggested that we get our fathers to school. But Gupte’s father was insistent on lodging a complaint with the police. But Baba, it is not true that Surya held her hand. He did nothing of the sort. He was standing a few feet away from her. He just asked her out and when she refused, he turned back and went away. And these guys are talking about handing us over to the police.’
I started sobbing. The tears flowed freely. I had not felt like crying when Appa berated us or when Aaisaheb scolded me. But in the middle of the paddy fields, with silence all around, I was unable to hold back my tears. I could not speak. I realized I was missing Shirodkar as I walked through the paddy fields.
‘Don’t cry,’ Baba said, hugging me. He then took out his handkerchief and wiped my tears. We stood there for a while and then walked to school.
The morning batch was yet to get over and the classes were in full swing. I could hear the students reciting a poem in one class. The playground was empty. It felt like I had walked into a different school.
While walking towards Appa’s room, we met Prem Chopra on the way. He was probably not aware of the issue and arched his eyebrows enquiringly seeing me with Baba. Baba did not react and I kept my head down. Ganoba was sitting outside Appa’s room on a bench.
‘Is the Headmaster in?’ Appa asked.
‘Yes. He is in,’ Ganoba said. That fellow knew what had happened, in any case.
Kevda’s father was present when we stepped in. She stood in one corner. Appa stood up seeing Baba and said, ‘Joshi saheb, please come in. Take a seat.’
I was not sure what I was supposed to do—whether to stand there or wait outside. But I did not want to go out on my own. My heart was beating hard. Luckily Baba rescued me saying, ‘You wait outside.’
I went out. There was space on Ganoba’s bench, but I did not sit there. I stood reading the notices on the bulletin board. Luckily Appa’s door is covered with a curtain. Earlier there was a swinging wooden door, which would squeak every time someone passed through. They later replaced it with a curtain.
Surya came in soon, followed by his father. I could not recognize him! His face was swollen and looked black and blue. His eyes were half-shut and there was a bump on his forehead. He had applied some kind of cream on the swollen area. He was limping and looked weak. I was scared to death seeing his condition. His father was wearing his usual white shirt and trousers. The shirt buttons near the neck were open, as always. A gold chain hung around his neck. His eyes, as usual, were red.
‘Is the master in?’ he asked in his gruff voice.
‘Yes, yes,’ Ganoba said, getting up hurriedly. He moved the curtain aside for him to step in. He did not step in immediately. He stood there and folded his hands in namaskar when Appa responded, ‘Come in, come in, Mhatre sheth’. He then removed his chappals and walked in.
Surya stayed back outside with me. Kevda joined us soon. She was taken aback seeing Surya’s condition. She looked at us, but we did not say anything. She then went and sat next to Ganoba, fiddling with the handkerchief.
We could hear snatches of the conversation inside. Appa was recounting the episode while Kevda’s father intervened a few times. The voices were not very clear. Then Surya’s father said in a loud voice, ‘But, Sir, do you know the punishment I have given to that fellow? I bashed him well and proper. You have not seen him?’ He shouted looking at the door, ‘Come in!’
We heard him but did not move. Appa rang the bell on his table. Ganoba stood up saying, ‘You have been asked to go in.’ My chest was pounding. To be fair, Surya alone had been summoned, but I accompanied him.
‘See! I have given him a nice treatment with my fists and legs,’ Surya’s father said, nudging Kevda’s father ahead to observe Surya clearly. ‘Teasing girls, eh? If you want I will hammer him again. Sir, give me your cane.’
Appa did not oblige.
‘Leave it.’
‘Don’t leave it. We cannot leave it. I will kill this bastard.’
‘Leave it, Mhatre sheth. Leave it,’ Appa repeated.
Surya’s state was evident. He stood there, his head down and legs bent a little.
‘There is no point in beating him up,’ Kevda’s father said. ‘These boys are thick-skinned. They are used to beatings. We need to hand them over to the police. They can be cured only in a remand home.’
Baba was silent until then, but hearing Kevda’s father, he said in a clear voice, ‘Gupte saheb, do you think our boys are orphans?’
That stopped Kevda’s father in his tracks. Appa and Surya’s father looked at Baba.
‘Then what do you suggest?’ Kevda’s father was agitated. ‘These guys dare to hold a girl’s hand in broad daylight. What should one do? Should that not be taken care of?’
‘Just a moment!’ Baba said. His voice was clear and steady. ‘I agree the boy made a mistake. But he did not hold her hand. Ask her.’
Kevda was called in. She went and stood near her father, her head bent.
‘Beti, don’t be afraid.’ Appa said. ‘Tell me clearly. What happened there?’
‘I was on the way to school when I saw him standing on the road. He asked me whether I would come out with him and I said no.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘He turned ba
ck and went away.’
‘Did he hold your hand?’ Baba asked.
‘No.’
‘Was he standing a few feet away?’
‘Yes.’
‘See?’ Baba remarked. ‘It is not what you are making it out to be.’
‘Did he not hold your hand?’ Appa asked.
Kevda shook her head.
‘Then why did you say he held her hand?’ Appa asked her father.
‘Perhaps he did not hold her hand. But it does not change the situation.’
‘No. I don’t think so,’ Baba said, his voice steady. He turned towards us and said, ‘You go and stand outside.’
We went out but stood near the curtain. We could hear everything being discussed inside.
‘I agree the boys have made a mistake,’ Baba said. ‘But we need to clearly understand the mistake. He asked whether she loves him. She said no. That’s it! Did he trouble her further? No.’
‘It is not as flippant as you are making it out to be,’ Kevda’s father said, his voice loud and angry.
‘I agree,’ Baba said. ‘But there is no point in stretching it further. They are at a confused age. Children err, but that does not mean we throw them into jail for such mistakes.’
We wanted to hear more, but Ganoba realized what we were up to and asked us to move away. Kevda too had come out of the room. Ganoba indicated to the bench and said, ‘Sit there.’
We could not hear the discussion any further.
Baba and Surya’s father came out after quite a wait. We stood up on seeing them. They walked down the corridor and stepped down into the playground. We followed them. Baba walked a few steps and then said, as we approached them, ‘What time does your school begin?’
‘Twelve-forty,’ I said.
‘You are carrying your books, aren’t you? Go and sit in your class. And focus on your studies, okay? You cannot be pardoned every time, understood?’
We nodded and continued to look down. Baba looked at Surya and then, putting his arm around Surya’s father’s shoulder, said, ‘Mhatre sheth, you should not beat up your son like this. We need to explain things to them. Your son is a tiger. Don’t treat him like dirt.’