by Milind Bokil
‘Aila, he is finally getting married, is it? Where is the girl from?’
‘From his town.’
‘How come he has not invited us?’ KT asked. ‘We need to catch him when he comes next.’
‘The invitation will follow,’ I said. ‘Else I will hand it over to you. But you should come.’
‘No. We will accept the invitation only from Narya.’
They spoke to me, but their eyes were on the road. They seemed to be waiting for something or someone important. KT glanced at his watch a couple of times.
‘Are they coming?’ their friend asked. ‘It is already ten minutes late. Hope there is no problem.’
‘They will come,’ KT said.
‘Are you waiting for someone?’ I asked.
‘Our friends,’ Vijay said.
‘Off to a movie?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
I stood there with them. It felt good, standing there like an adult, without a care in the world. We could watch the people pass by. A couple of college girls went by, looking at us and giggling. It was getting a little dark and the lights in the shops were coming on one by one.
‘Mukund, you carry on,’ Ashok said, his tone a little serious. ‘We are busy. You go home. Don’t wait here.’
I looked at Vijay and KT and they nodded their heads. They looked a little tense. Their friend seemed anxious and had raised himself on his toes to look at the other end of the road. There seemed to be some sort of noise coming from the other end of the road.
I was about to move when KT said, looking at Vijay, ‘Ask him to convey the message. You may not be able to.’
‘How can I tell?’ Vijay asked. ‘Why don’t you tell?’
KT thought for a moment. He then put his arms around my shoulder and said, his voice assuming a serious tone,
‘Mukund, ask your sister not to fancy Vijay. We are not sure of our future. She should not waste her time.’
For a moment, I did not register the meaning of his words. Then it struck me. Ambabai liked Vijay. Ambabai! I could not believe my ears. I looked at Vijay. He glanced at his watch and then smiled at me.
I was about to ask a question when their friend said, ‘Let him go. I think they have arrived.’
‘Okay, you go,’ KT said. They were watching the other end of the road. The buzzing noise increased in its intensity.
I moved away a little but stood near Parsekar’s shop watching the road, hiding behind a few oil barrels kept on the footpath. Soon I could hear slogans.
‘Emergency Murdabad!’
‘Murdabad, murdabad!’
‘Hatao, Hatao. Emergency Hatao!’
A group of five or six men walked by, shouting the slogans loudly. Everyone stopped to look at them. I could recognize two of them though their names eluded me. I had seen them in our building.
Ashok, KT, Vijay and their friend joined the group. Their slogans got louder. They urged the men on the road, ‘What are you staring at? Join us.’
‘Emergency murdabad!’
Vijay pumped his fists in the air and shouted. I had never seen him shout loudly. The others repeated the lines. They stood near the library shouting for a while and then moved ahead. The slogans continued.
I was tempted for a moment to join them. I may not know their slogans, but I could always shout, ‘Bharat mata ki jay’, or something like that. But I stood rooted there. I was a bit scared. Their voices faded as they moved away. It was dark and the lights were on all over now. I remembered they had asked me to go home.
KT’s words rang in my ears. Ambabai had fallen for Vijay! No one knew about this except Vijay, KT and Ashok. She had turned out to be a chupa rustam! I had been fooled. Then I remembered instances that connected the dots—she would come out and watch whenever Vijay played carrom or chess. She would often visit Jyoti vahini upstairs and they would stand in the gallery and talk. Now her secret was out! She could not try her dadagiri on me any more.
I met Ponkshe kaka’s son Kiran on the way and told him what Vijay, KT and Ashok were upto. He was surprised and said, ‘Aila, really? Let us go and inform Appa.’ Ponkshe kaka was watching TV, sitting bare-chested as usual. Kiran and I described what I had just seen. Others had gathered by then.
‘These guys have finally decided to take the matter in their own hands!’ Ponkshe kaka exclaimed. ‘I had been telling them—don’t get involved in all this. But they won’t listen to me. We are scared but they are young. If they don’t take up these issues, who else will? Shabbash! But shouting slogans will not help. We need to burst bombs! Bombs!’
Ambabai stood at the door. Aaisaheb joined her.
‘What happened?’ she asked the moment I stepped in.
I went in and gave an exaggerated version of the entire episode. I described it in great detail, adding unnecessary drama to it. I deliberately mentioned Vijay four or five times. I was keen to see Ambabai’s reaction. She seemed scared. I realized that I was overdoing it. This knowledge was an ace up my sleeve. My trump card! I had to use it once and at the most opportune moment. Trying to be oversmart, haan? Telling me how to behave? I will teach her a lesson now!
Aaisaheb heard the whole thing but did not comment.
‘Such young guys! Why do they get into all this?’ she muttered.
Ambabai did not respond and continued with her work.
I could not sleep. I was surprised at the recent discovery of Ambabai’s affair. I was angry at myself for having not discovered it on my own. I thought her a simpleton, but she had turned out to be smarter than all of us! The unsaid rule was not to try and have a fling with anyone in the building, but she had boldly gone and tried to woo the guy one floor above. But now I had a weapon in my hands. I would use Vijay’s name and gauge her reaction. It was one thing to be seen chatting with girls in the class and another to flirt with the boy next door! Ambabai would be willing to allow me any liberties to prevent me from telling Aaisaheb. I could stop her from troubling me once and for all. She would be forever a slave to me.
I thought of ways to trap her, but then I realized there was nothing wrong with liking someone. I should be, in fact, helping her. Vijay was a good fellow and a friend to boot. Ambabai had two more years of college left. Aaisaheb would start searching for a suitable groom for her. I had heard her tell Ponkshe kaku to be on the lookout. If things boded well for Ambabai, it would clear a path for me too. I needed to find a way to help her rather than tease her. She was nice except for her constant nagging. But now she would not nag. She would be my friend.
I dozed off dreaming of nice times.
The police came in the morning. I was sitting in the verandah reading a newspaper while Ponkshe kaka had just finished his bath and was roaming around bare-chested, rubbing his sacred thread against his back. Nikam kaku had stepped out to clear the garbage and Upasni aaji had spread out a dhurrie to dry out the sewais. Sudhakar Mayekar stood at the door step, sipping tea.
They were three of them in plain clothes. We did not recognize them immediately. They dismounted from their bicycles and stood there watching. For a moment, I thought they had come visiting Nikam kaka. I had seen such men come to his house, but Nikam kaka did not seem to know them. Ponkshe kaka had a doubt and asked, ‘Whom do you want?’
‘Those boys who stay here—where are they?’ one of them asked. He was wearing a striped shirt, which hung outside his trousers.
‘Which boys?’ Ponkshe kaka asked.
‘They hold meetings here.’
‘We don’t know,’ Ponkshe kaka said, fiddling with his sacred thread. ‘No one holds meetings here.’
‘Please watch how you speak,’ the man said. ‘We are policemen.’
‘If you are policemen, why do you ask us?’ Ponkshe kaka shouted. ‘Why don’t you find out yourselves?’
‘Sir, please don’t shout,’ the other man said.
‘Why? What will you do? Will you arrest me?’ Ponkshe kaka said, his voice taking on an edge. Then go ahead. Arrest me. I am ready. Take me
and throw me into a jail as you are doing to many others. Huh!’
‘Arre, kaka; just tell us one thing,’ the striped shirt fellow said. ‘Just point us to the room where K T Dhawade, Vijay Deshmukh and Ashok Sutar stay. That’s all. They were arrested last night for shouting slogans against the government. We have to search their room. Show us their room.’
‘It is in the corner on the first floor,’ Ponkshe kaka said. ‘But do you have a search warrant?’
‘Yes, we do. Here, we will open it in your presence.’
By then all the residents had come out. Ambabai was combing her hair and Baba was putting on his office clothes. Aaisaheb asked him not to go out. Nikam kaka, Sukhtankar, Shenvi, Upadhye, Karadkar and our neighbour Mandke had all gathered. Everyone was home as it was still early.
‘We need two witnesses,’ the man with the striped shirt said. He told Ponkshe kaka, ‘You come along, kaka. I will open the door in your presence. Who else will come?’
He turned and spotted Sudhakar Mayekar. He wanted to duck, but Ponkshe kaka said, ‘Sure, come on. I am not scared. Sudhakar, you come.’
‘No, I am getting late,’ he said.
‘Arre, come on! What are you scared of? These boys are in jail and you are scared to be a witness? Come on.’
They climbed to the first floor. We followed them. The man in the striped shirt unlocked the door and got in without removing his shoes, followed by Ponkshe kaka and Sudhakar. We stood outside. I could see everything from the door.
They turned everything upside down but could not find anything. There was nothing to be found. The room was sparse—two iron cots, a few mattresses, some clothes hung on a rope, a few novels, a few suitcases under the bed and a few cooking items like the stove, spoons, pots and utensils on the kitchen counter.
‘Come on, there is nothing here,’ the man in the striped shirt said. He took out a pad, which had some papers clipped on to it. He wrote something after putting in a carbon paper and asked Ponkshe kaka and Sudhakar to sign.
‘Why have you not got one of the boys here along with you?’ Ponkshe kaka asked.
‘They are not here. They are far away,’ he said.
‘What are you going to do next?’
‘We don’t know all that, kaka. We are just doing our job. Government will take care of their hospitality. Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to them.’
‘Yes. Government will take care of them. Why should we be worried?’ Ponkshe kaka retorted.
The man then locked the door and, tying a paper around the lock, sealed it with some sort of wax. The entire procession then went down to the ground floor.
The men cycled away. The other people in the building too did not speak much. Everyone knew what had happened and expressed their sympathies. Baba finished his meal and left for office. Ambabai’s face was pale. She went for a bath and I suspected she may have cried in there, for her eyes were red and swollen when she came out. I pitied her. I felt like telling her that I knew and that she should not be worried. I wanted to tell her that I will help her, but I could not bring myself to say so. She would have got upset. Then she left for college.
I was very upset with the fact that they were arrested and that Ambabai had cried. Ponkshe kaka later told me that the government can keep them in custody for as long as it wishes. The rules were such. There was no telling when they would return. That depressed me further. What would happen to Ambabai and Vijay now?
As planned, Aaisaheb and I left for Naru mama’s place. The state transport bus was a direct one. Baba and Ambabai had come to drop us off at the bus station as we had a lot of luggage. We had booked tickets in advance, but we got separate seats. It turned out to be a blessing otherwise I would have been subjected to her sermons all the way. The person sitting next to me offered his window seat to me. Aaisaheb found a talkative co-passenger. She was in a good mood. After all her younger brother was getting married. She kept buying things to eat all through the way. Baba had given me money and I could have bought things on my own, but the situation did not arise.
The bus driver drove well and the bus moved at a good speed. We crossed the industrial area near our town after which the bus entered the hilly area and we crossed a few mountains and valleys. There were farms on both sides of the road and the breeze put me to sleep.
Naru mama received us at the station. He was busy. The relatives were arriving one by one and Aaisaheb was busy exchanging snacks and showing them the things she had got for the wedding. Naru mama took me to one of the bigger shops there and asked me to select cloth for a pair of trousers and a shirt. We gave it for stitching right away, but the tailor there cut the bellbottoms a little too wide and we got the clothes a day after the wedding!
I spent most of the time with Gaikwad’s son Ashok. He was a friend and we spent time cycling down to the Shankar temple. One of his friend’s father worked in a sugar factory and he took us there. We climbed up the Kanifnath hill. There were sugarcane fields adjacent to the Professors’ colony. We discovered a huge stone well over there. Ashok taught me to swim, initially with a tyre around my waist. Within two days, I was able to swim without any support. He introduced me to his girlfriend Sujata Bhosale. Her father too was a professor and they stayed in the same colony. She was good looking but a little short. She was in class eight and now going into ninth standard. Ashok knew her since he was a child and they visited each other’s houses often. Ashok had asked me to entertain her with tales of a big city like Mumbai so that he would get to spend more time with her. But I somehow could not do so.
One day, while sitting at the edge of the well drying ourselves, I told him everything about Shirodkar. Everything since the beginning—how I had tried to get to know her, how we used to play word games in the class, how I got caned by Bendre ma’am, how I defeated Mirikar in the chess tournament, the reason for joining tuition classes, the way we used to chat under the peepal tree and how I went over to her house.
‘You are a lucky fellow,’ he said after listening to me.
‘Why? Aren’t you lucky?’ I asked. ‘You are, after all, staying in the same colony.’
‘But things are not yet set.’
‘Why? What is the problem?’
‘We are BC, backward caste, yaar,’ he said with a sad face.
I did not answer. The lovely blue sky reflected in the well. Shirodkar’s thoughts floated through my mind, leaving a pleasant feeling. I could feel her presence everywhere—while climbing down the Kanifnath hill; while cycling on the road; while pulling sugarcane from the truck passing by; while seeing the hot, bubbling sugarcane juice in the factory boiler; while listening to the shehnai in the wedding hall and while sitting next to Naru mama collecting gift packets. I would smile for no reason and the whole world around me smelt fragrant like rose water.
Aaisaheb had worked for the wedding with great gusto, but her enthusiasm had waned after mami arrived. She had not liked the folks from mami’s family. In fact, she was not too appreciative of mami either and, to add fuel to the fire, the saree given by her family to Aaisaheb was quite ordinary. That made her grumpy. What’s worse, they had not gifted any saree to Ambabai. I did not find mami remarkable at all. He had introduced me to her praising me—that this nephew was more like a friend; that I was a chess champion and so on. But all she said was a meek ‘Is that so?’ Naru mama spent all his time in her company. They belonged to the same town and Naru mama had been visiting her every evening until the wedding. After the wedding, he was sure to just stay tied to her pallu. ‘Naru is no more one of us,’ remarked Aaisaheb. Later, while taking leave, she told Aaji in a resigned voice, ‘So that’s it! No more “mother’s house” for me.’
The three of us came back together. Baba had attended the wedding and left immediately. We had got a three-seater row. Aaisaheb and Ambabai discussed the wedding for a long time—how those folks were street-smart and Naru was a simpleton; how they did this and did not do that; how Aaji would manage now, and many such family matters. I spent
my time enjoying the scenery outside. I was feeling good. We were returning home, but the journey and the route seemed new. The results would be announced the next day. And then a month long holiday!
But then Ambabai started her lecture. She started off with describing a dam as we crossed it, and then the discussion moved to her favourite topic. ‘Next year is critical—tenth standard,’ she began. ‘Now you need to forget everything else and focus on studies alone. The syllabus may seem easy, but it is not easy to score marks. You should start tuitions from the day after. I have enquired. We have one Kaduskar in my class. Her father teaches all the subjects. He takes only five students per class, but he has agreed to take you. He teaches at home for two hours daily. You have to join that class immediately. There was no one to guide me like this, but you are lucky to have someone,’ and so on.
I looked outside the window to admire the lovely green sugarcane fields. A few bullock carts passed by. But her sermons continued. I had to find a way to shut her up.
‘That Vijay from our building is a nice guy, isn’t he?’ I said. ‘I wonder where he is now.’
She stayed silent for the rest of the journey.
I reached home, washed my hands and feet, had a quick cup of tea, and left. I walked around Shirodkar’s lane. Aaisaheb was feeling a bit unsteady after the bus journey and was lying in bed. There was no need to bother about Ambabai, though I took care to give her the excuse of visiting Chitre.
It was evening, but there was still enough light. The lane was silent as usual and there was no activity outside her bungalow. I could not see the door from the lane, but I may have walked in casually had the window been open. I paced the lane a few times, but I could not find any indication of anyone around. Later the landlord upstairs switched on the lamp when it became dark. But the house on the ground floor seemed silent. I was convinced they were not at home. I was keen to visit Chitre, but my feet were aching, so I decided to head back home.
It was vacation time and there would normally be a many people around the carrom and chess boards, but there was no one today. Baba commented that everything had changed. The Shenvis had bought a TV following Nikam kaka’s purchase. The crowds assembled in his house these days to watch programmes. Kiran was out of town for some exam or the other while Sudhakar kaka and his wife were out on holiday. The first floor seemed desolate. One of the tubelights was not working and no one had bothered to replace it. In a matter of a fortnight, the building seemed to have lost its soul. Someone had dumped garbage in one corner of the open space.