Shala (10 page)

He moved his books away and sat on the edge of the table. ‘Emergency means difficult times,’ he began. ‘A nationwide Emergency declaration heralds difficult times for the entire country. But that’s just one part of it. Emergency, in reality, means a curb on freedom of the citizens of this country. I am, in some sense, a government servant and I cannot say much. You guys are a little too young to understand all this. Hence I won’t elaborate.’

‘But why do they declare Emergency in the first place?’ I asked.

‘To make us sing songs,’ Surya interjected.

‘To make people more disciplined,’ Ghasu Gokhale added.

The other boys were silent. I managed to glance at Shirodkar. She was waiting for Sir to answer.

‘It is true it helps to get people disciplined,’ Sir explained. ‘But the fact is there is a lot of discontent amongst the people. The ruling class is afraid the people may throw them out. They are scared and they declare such measures like Emergency to prevent people from revolting.’

‘But Emergency is also called
Anushashan Parva
, trying to create a culture of discipline, isn’t it?’ Bibikar asked.

‘That’s what is said in public,’ Sir explained. ‘The people in power use such terms from texts like the Mahabharata. But you children need not worry about it. You must concentrate on your studies and do well.’

‘But people are unable to express their views openly during Emergency,’ I continued.

‘That’s right,’ Sir agreed. ‘That’s why it is called Emergency.’

The bell rang just then.

‘So I hope you guys have got some understanding of the Emergency,’ Sir said, while leaving.

‘Yes. It means Bendre ma’am’s class,’ Surya quipped.

The whole class burst out laughing. Sir glared in mock anger but left with a faint smile on his lips.

The next class was Bendre ma’am’s. The very thought of the previous day’s episode made me angry. I had an idea. Everyday a student was supposed to volunteer to write on the blackboard the subject of the class to be held next. No one bothered to do the same for Bendre ma’am. She preferred to write that on her own.

I glanced at the ground. She had not yet arrived. I quickly stood up and picked up a piece of chalk from the desk. I rubbed out the earlier subject ‘Social Science’ and quickly wrote, ‘Period four:
Anushasan Parva
’ in bold letters. The birdies were shocked beyond belief and gaped open-mouthed. Even Shirodkar seemed a little surprised at my audacity.

I went back to my seat and sat with an air of nonchalance.

Ma’am came in wearing a starched saree, jutting out her chest. She kept her books and purse on the table and picked up the duster to clean the blackboard when she stopped in her tracks. The words were clearly visible—Period four:
Anushasan Parva.

She kept staring at the blackboard for a long time. She then turned and asked, ‘Who has written this?’ she asked quietly. There was pin-drop silence. Normally she would have raved and ranted to the high heavens. While her tone was controlled, there was an unmistakable underlying threat.

No one dared utter a word.

‘Who has written this?’ she repeated in the same tone.

The class was silent. There was no movement.

‘I say who has written this?’ her voice held a sharp edge now. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck rise.

Some of the girls murmured amongst themselves. No one dared glance at me. The boys on the first bench are in any case meek and would not have dared turn around. It had happened once. Someone had made the mistake once of turning around to look at Surya, and Surya had taught him a lesson he never forgot.

‘Okay, so you guys are not going to volunteer so easily,’ she said, pursing her lips. Her anger was about to explode.

‘Get your ruler here,’ she said, pointing at Bibikar and, before he could step forward, she came to his desk and picked up the wooden ruler.

‘So are you going to tell me or not?’ she asked, tapping the ruler in her other palm.

The discomfort in the class was evident. My palms were sweating. No one likes Bendre ma’am. The memory of her rude behaviour with Shirodkar was fresh in everyone’s minds. No one was going to speak out despite her warning. But the threat seemed real. Her ruler moved menacingly. No one had the nerve to bear the brunt of her lashings for the sake of protecting someone else. After all, it wasn’t a simple punishment like standing in the class for the rest of the time. The girls were losing patience.

‘I don’t want to unnecessarily punish the entire class,’ she said calmly going back to her desk. She turned to look at the boys and said, ‘The culprit must step forward. There is no point in hiding like a coward. Else the entire class will bear the punishment thanks to one individual.’

The arrow hit the target. The girls were clearly agitated. One of the girls turned back and muttered, ‘Why should we suffer?’ Teredesai glanced back at the boys.

I was shivering by now. I had not anticipated my act would lead to such a situation. I knew she wouldn’t like what I wrote, but I had not expected her to get so angry. I was petrified and had no choice now but to get up and admit to my crime. The moment they got the first caning, people like Teredesai and the girls would have blurted out my name in any case. Some did not even need that prompting. We had teased girls like Sukdi so much that she would not lose this opportunity to take her revenge.

I looked out at the playground for a moment. The hot breeze blew dust all around. The distant mountains were lost in a haze. I knew there was no other option. I may as well get up before I was exposed by someone else. It was a do or die situation. I remember Zende sir pulling my ears. The words of the speech rang in my ears—‘Fame is the fragrance of heroic deeds’.

I got up and said, in a calm voice, ‘I wrote it, ma’am.’

Stunned for a moment, she looked at me. She had not expected the culprit to admit on his own accord. She thought I had stood up to point out the prankster, but here I was, confessing in the presence of the whole class. She recovered, her anger erupting with renewed intensity.

‘Come forward‘, she growled.

I went and stood before her.

‘Stretch out your palm,’

I stretched out my left palm. ‘Both palms,’ she said.

I stretched out both palms.

She hit out with the ruler on one palm with all her force. I could see her face contorted with anger. A stinging pain travelled from my neck down to the toes. I felt hot tears bubbling up, but I was determined. I gritted my teeth and was ready for the next one. I had decided to not show my weakness; not a whimper escaped my lips.

‘
Anushasan Parva
, is it?
Anushasan Parva
?’ she repeated as she continued to hit me with the ruler. ‘Do you have any shame? Take this! Take this!’ She continued battering me.

My mind went blank, filled with a warm darkness. A reddish haze blurred my vision. The assault on my palms continued, but not a moan escaped my lips. I had noticed Shirodkar looking straight at me when ma’am hit me for the first time.

Ma’am continued to hammer blows on me without mercy; one after another. She had expected me to beg her to stop. But I was like a man possessed! I imagined I was Lokmanya Tilak or Bhagat Singh. I imagined I was being taken to the gallows, my hands were being nailed to the wall, but I was unperturbed. I was standing tall and proud. I challenged them to continue hitting me. Let the blows fall! I am ready to take them. The reddish curtain blurred my vision, but I could see Shirodkar through it. She continued to stare at me while I stood like an undefeated hero.

Finally, tired of her own assault, ma’am stopped.

‘Go and sit at your place,’ she said, throwing the ruler on to the table.

I went back without uttering a word. Sensation returned to the palms. They were red and swollen. My fingers ached miserably. I put my palms upwards on my thighs and placed my head on the bench. No one bothered to disturb me through the rest of the period.

The bell, mercifully, announced the mid-break.

The boys gathered around me even before ma’am had left the classroom.

‘Ichibhana, this Bendre…!’ Surya started, fumbling for the right words. ‘We need to throw her out of school.’

‘Chaila! Look at the way his palms have swollen up,’ Teredesai observed. ‘Must be aching like crazy, isn’t it?’

‘I salute you, Joshi,’ Bibikar said. ‘I could not have dared.’

‘You are the bloody sissy-type first-benchers!’ Surya erupted. ‘And that ruler of yours! I’ve told you a thousand times not to get that thick ruler to school. If I see that again, I’ll break it, bhenchod!’

‘I won’t get it again, I promise.’

‘We ought to go and complain to the Principal,’ Ghasu Gokhale suggested. ‘Shall we?’

‘What is the point in complaining?’ Phawdya said. ‘They are all the same. Is this a school or some kind of jail?’

I realized the girls were also looking at me. They were watching me from a respectable distance—the birdies, Mirikar, Sukdi, Bakre, Sarawate, and Deodhar; Shirodkar too.

‘Look at the way she has battered him, poor soul!’ one of them said.

‘I swear! She has become a terror these days.’

‘No one can afford to say anything in her period.’

The boys held my palms and inspected them. They felt as if they were on fire.

‘Joshi, don’t just sit here,’ Chitre said. ‘Come, let us go down. We need to put your hands under cold running water. You may feel better.’

We stood up and went out to the taps. I cringed when the cold water fell on the palms, but after some time I felt a little better.

‘Do you want to drink some water?’ Chitre asked.

‘Yes, but how do I drink?’ I asked. ‘I cannot do anything with these hands.’

He ran and got a tumbler from Balu, the watchman and held it to my lips.

‘Phawdya, go and get some ice-candy,’ Surya said. ‘Here, take this money and get four.’

‘You will feel better eating that,’ he said, looking at me.

‘We have a special oil at home,’ Santya suggested. ‘Shall I get it? You smear it on the area where it hurts. It gives a lot of relief.’

‘Then why don’t you go and get it? Don’t sit here and ask!’ Surya said.

Santya rushed home. Chitre got another tumbler full of water. Phawdya got the ice-candy. Chitre helped me suck on it. I had held back my tears in the classroom, but now I could feel them brimming over.

Santya got the oil before the break ended. The oil was blackish-red with a pungent odour. He gently rubbed it onto my palms.

‘It is an ancient remedy,’ he whispered. ‘Ekdum bestest!’

‘How come you have it at home?’ Phawdya asked.

‘My dad got it,’ he said, sharing a secret. ‘It comes in handy whenever he gets beaten up by the police.’

The oil smelt horrible, but I felt a little better. The next period was Drawing. I sat at the back doing nothing. Rajguru sir asked me the reason and I was forced to show him my palms.

‘Bendre ma’am hit him, sir,’ Teredesai said.

Sir inspected my palms but kept quiet.

The next class was Manjrekar sir’s. He asked us to draw a diagram. I tried holding the pencil, but it was impossible. Sir asked,‘Why are you not drawing?’

‘Just look at his hands, sir,’ the boys in the front bench said. ‘Bendre ma’am hit him because he wrote
Anushasan Parva
on the blackboard.’

Sir came near me and held my hands at the wrist to inspect the palms. He kept looking at them for a while. The entire class was silent. I was desperately trying to hold back my tears. Then he gently ruffled my hair saying, ‘Grow up!’

Chitre and Phawdya wanted to accompany me back home, but I refused and took the route back through the paddy fields. I stopped near the trees. The tears were waiting to burst. I did not fight them. My palms were burning, but there was a strange sense of elation too. I felt good. It was like flying high in the air.

The sky was azure. The paddy fields stood silent in the warm sun. A patch of land on one side had been cleared out; they had probably started harvesting. The smell of ripe corn hung in the air. The breeze from the woods carried the scent of the trees. The oil on my palms smelt strange. But the fragrance all around me more than made up for it. I felt like a feather floating on fragrant waves.

I
had decided not to say anything at home, but when Aaisaheb put the cup of tea before me, I wondered how I could possibly drink it. I tried curling my fingers around to pick it up but couldn’t.

‘Can you pour it in the saucer for me?’ I finally asked Aaisaheb.

‘Why? Are you a two-year-old toddler?’

Then I showed her my palms. Seeing them, she exclaimed, ‘You rascal! What prank did you play this time? Got punished, isn’t it? Great!’

Ambabai came running out of the room. I recounted the entire episode before they had a chance to start their sermons.

‘Who asked you to act oversmart?’ Aaisaheb shouted. ‘You think you’re a big revolutionary, eh?’

Ambabai was silent for a while. She kept looking at my palms, wide-eyed.

‘You are such young children. Why should you get involved in all this politics-volitics? Who taught you all this?’ Aaisaheb continued.

I was expecting Ambabai to add insult to the injury. But surprisingly she kept quiet and did not toe Aaisaheb’s line.

‘Just look at the way she has hit him!’ she exclaimed. ‘This is akin to the brutality shown by the police. Why should she beat anyone like this? You must tell Baba to lodge a complaint in school tomorrow.’

A strange fear enveloped me. A complaint against Bendre ma’am would give her an excuse to hold a grudge against me forever. I could not risk that. I preferred to silently endure the pain instead.

Luckily Baba did not do anything. He was told about the entire episode when he returned in the evening. The lead was taken by Ambabai, of course. Baba merely said, ‘The fault is his, isn’t it? So he has to bear the punishment too. And in this case, it is better for a government servant like me to not interfere.’

Aaisaheb was initially upset with me, but after hearing Ambabai, directed her anger at Bendre ma’am. She kept quiet after hearing Baba’s point of view. After dinner, she smeared fresh sandalwood paste on my palms, followed by the mandatory lecture. That night KT had come down to play chess with Baba. I was lying down with my palms facing down, hiding them, but he noticed. He quietly took me upstairs where his friends Ashok and Vijay were chatting. They asked me to recount the whole incident. They were impressed and, patting my back, said, ‘We thought you were a kid. But you turned out to be a brave man! Shabbash! Yeh hui na baat!’