Shala (16 page)

The rains drizzle coolness

On the dense bamboo forests
’

I knew every word of it. I could imagine a black shadow formed by clouds in the waterlogged paddy fields. I had tasted the ripe grains, thanks to Shankar’s father, and we had experienced the cool shadow of the bamboo trees in our mid-breaks. I felt as if the poem had been written exclusively for me. The poet somehow knew I would love it. The words kept ringing in my ears the whole day.

I
wanted to bunk the tuition class that evening. It is convenient to bunk few days at a stretch as the same excuse holds for all the days of absence, but I was keen to find out what Shirodkar was up to.

Shirodkar came in a little late just as our batch was entering the room. Her friend asked, ‘What happened yesterday? I did not see you.’

‘I will tell you later,’ Shirodkar whispered.

I felt like a fool. She too had bunked!

Pingle asked me the reason for my absence. I was tempted to say something about guests at home or a stomach ache but thought otherwise. These excuses could come in handy some other day.

‘I had a toothache,’ I said. ‘And the doctor’s place was too busy. I may have to go a few more times. I hope you will lend me your notebook.’

He nodded his head, falling for my words.

I bunked again the next day. I spent time in the free library. I wanted to go and stand below the tamarind tree because it was closer to her house, but it was a bit risky. Someone may ask why I was standing there for such a long time. I whiled away my time reading a few newspapers. There was not much to read though. Thanks to the Emergency, the papers have become very careful and do not publish anything sensitive. Earlier it was fun reading the editorial column that carried criticism of the ruling party. But now things were different. The government was clamping the voices, they said. In one paper, there was a dark black patch of ink striking away a news item. Perhaps that’s what they meant by ‘clamping the voices’.

I reached the peepal tree sharp at seven. I was on the lookout for the people whom I had encountered the previous time. If they saw me again they would wonder why I was standing there so often. But none of those people turned up. The lane was quiet but not desolate. There was adequate light and yet there were a few spots where one could stand in darkness. No one from the bungalows would see me standing there. It was perfect.

Then I became aware of the mosquitoes around. I could feel them biting me. Our town is known for its mosquitoes. Someone had joked we should rename our village Mosquito Nagar! The guests who come to our house complain about them all the time. Each house tries its own methods of driving them away. Some burn neem leaves while some of the others burn dried cowdung. Earlier we too used to try such tricks, but now we simply sleep under mosquito nets. Some mosquitoes are so big they leave a blood stain when you swat them. One Jagdale from Baba’s office is looking out for mosquitoes all the time, often ignoring his tea or his hosts. He does not mind swatting them on someone else’s back too. Aaisaheb does not like him at all because he once cried, ‘Vahini, look! A mosquito on your stomach!’ People wearing trousers are spared to some extent. But boys like me wearing shorts are in trouble. You would find boys constantly scratching one leg with the other. If you spot any boy in the world doing that, you can be sure he belongs to our town.

I stood there scratching my legs. I was quite sure I would not see her today. When one is desperate for something one does not get it. That’s the way the world is! I had a trick in my childhood—think of the worst. For example, I would imagine losing a match or not getting movie tickets. That way, if it actually turns out so, you don’t feel bad. And if it does not, you are elated. I convinced myself that I would not see her today. She would have bunked or she would have gone over to some friend’s place. She would not come today. She would not come today. I repeated the mantra.

But then she came! I saw her in the light of the street lamp. I would have, of course, recognized her from a mile away. I realized she might get upset seeing me hiding in the darkness, waiting to pounce on her. I decided to walk in her direction.

I met her halfway. As I had expected, she looked surprised.

‘Aiyaa, you?’ she said, her hand on her mouth.

‘What are you doing this side of town? You didn’t come for the class today, did you?’

I could not believe my eyes and ears! Here she was. She had actually stopped and was talking to me. In the silence of the lane, with no one around, she and I were actually having a conversation. With no one there to disturb us! My ploy had worked.

‘Umm…no,’ I managed to mumble. But I was at a loss for words. She must be wondering why I was not saying anything.

‘Sir taught us well today,’ she said, moving towards her house. ‘Don’t keep bunking like this.’

And then she was gone!

I stood stuck to the place. I remembered the phrase, ‘kimkartavya vimoodh’—someone who is stunned and does not know what to do next. I should have gone home straight, but I walked back towards the tuition class and then took a long route to reach home.

My mind was blank as I walked back. Ambabai remarked during dinner time, ‘Where are you? You seem to be lost in thoughts.’ I did not reply but continued eating. The chess games were on, and Kudalkar advocate came in to play with Baba. No one prefers to chat when a chess game is on and I could sit there without having to talk to anyone. Baba likes it when I sit and watch him play.

A plan formed in my mind as I watched them play. It was superb! I could meet her every day. The place was ideally suited. It was a narrow lane forcing the person to acknowledge the other person passing by. She had spoken to me without being prompted. What else did I need?

I soon realized the foolishness of my plan. Shirodkar had spoken to me. But she would have spoken to anyone—Chitre or Bibikar or Teredesai or Misal. Her questions had been innocuous; ‘What are you doing here?’ ‘Why did you not come to the class?’ It was a question she would have asked anyone from our class. There was nothing special about it. She would never guess I had bunked class so that I could meet her.

She would be blissfully unaware of my situation. She would speak to me the way she did this evening—anywhere, anytime. There was no need to find a rendezvous for such a conversation. I knew Shirodkar was a simple, straightforward girl unlike Mande or Sukdi. She would not understand what I was attempting to do.

Naru mama had told me long back that one should be upfront with girls when it came to expressing one’s feelings. There was no point in beating around the bush or trying to flirt. One should express one’s emotions directly and face the consequence. At the worst, she would say no. OK. ‘Tu nahi toh koi aur sahi’ was Naru mama’s philosophy.

The thought of writing to her crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. Letters lead to mahabharata. It had happened in every school around town. Last year, when we were in class eight, there had been a huge fuss over Paradkar and Sontakke of tenth standard. They were writing letters to each other and someone discovered a whole bunch of them. Both of them had to leave school. They were hell-bent on committing suicide on the railway tracks, it is rumoured. Ponkshe kaka keeps on saying never give anything in writing. You are doomed when you put things in writing. Say whatever you feel like, but don’t write it down.

I decided against writing any letters, even though it was far more convenient to speak one’s heart through them. One could re-write, too, if there was a mistake. One cannot do that while speaking. I had to steel myself and speak up. There was no other way.

‘What do you say? How was my move?’ Kudalkar advocate exclaimed, breaking my train of thoughts. ‘See how I have trapped your father, Mukund.’

Kudalkar had trapped Baba’s bishop and was gloating over it. Baba examined the board and answered, unruffled, ‘I am fine with giving up my bishop, but are you prepared for a checkmate in three moves?’

Baba was right. Advocate saheb was in trouble. This was Baba’s favourite trick. Sacrifice an important piece, sometimes even the queen, and then checkmate your opponent! We laughed out loud looking at each other.

I
let the next two days pass by. One was a Sunday in any case. I diligently attended tuition classes during that time. Shirodkar would not look at any of the boys, as always. I would sit there and simply gaze at her. Deshmane sir taught earnestly, explaining the problems on the blackboard, but no one asked any questions. In school, some of the oversmart guys like Bibikar would raise doubts just to impress the teacher, but that helped us to understand the problem. Watching the playground from the classroom was a great way to spend time in school. There was nothing of that sort in the tuition classes. Had Shirodkar not been present, I would not have come anywhere close to this dump.

I bunked classes again on Tuesday and spent my time standing below the peepal tree. It was five past seven. It was okay to stand there for a few minutes. My chest was not thumping as loudly as before. I was feeling a bit better. I had braced myself just a bit.

I stood waiting for her when I saw a man walking slowly down the road. He must have been very old, for he wore the dhoti in an old fashioned way. He had a walking stick in hand. He was wearing a black woollen cap and, seeing me, he came over and asked, ‘Beta, who are you?’ His voice was quivering and he probably could not see clearly. I was taken aback. Most of the people in our village have a queer habit of asking such questions. They invariably start a conversation with school children, asking unnecessary questions. They may also ask you to run errands. An old lady once asked me to deliver her bag from the atta chakki. I was a little annoyed at the old man’s question, but I told him my name. He asked further, ‘Whose son are you?’

I thought for a moment and then answered, ‘Mr Joshi’s.’

‘Where do you stay?’

For a moment, I was tempted to lie and say I stayed nearby, but that was dangerous. He may ask more questions and it may lead to trouble. He would be familiar with most of the households in this area and would know them on a first name basis.

‘I stay near Dhaparewadi,’ I said.

‘What are you doing here?’ he continued.

This old man was not willing to let go. I could land in trouble if he had a habit of taking this route every evening. I looked at my watch. Shirodkar was likely to come in any moment. I should have walked away seeing him come in the first instance. But I could not do that now. I said, ‘I am waiting for a friend.’

‘Oh, a friend, is it? I see,’ he said. ‘But be careful, okay? It is dark here and you need to be alert. There may be scorpions, who knows?’

‘Yes, ajoba,’ I said.

He left, hobbling slowly.

I heaved a deep sigh of relief. It was sixteen past seven now. I saw him walk away, his head shaking a little. I did not feel any anger towards him. In fact, I felt that I should have had a grandfather like him. I had never seen either of my grandfathers. Both Baba and Aaisaheb had lost their fathers when I was very young. This old man was a friendly, loving person. No one would have doubted me seeing me chat with him. He would have actually helped me. I would be glad if he came by every day.

Shirodkar came in at twenty-five minutes past seven. I saw her enter the lane and walked slowly towards her.

‘You? What do you do here every day?’ she asked. It was clear that she was confused seeing me in her part of the town.

‘I was waiting,’ I said. The aching emptiness in the pit of my stomach had reappeared and my chest thumped loudly. I was not sure if I would be able to say it.

She did not wait for long. She started moving when I said, ‘Wait!’

‘What for?’

‘I…’ I took a deep breath. My heart was threatening to explode. I was finding it difficult to speak.

‘I wanted to say something to you,’ I blurted.

‘What?’ She quickly glanced at both sides of the lane fearing that someone may spot us there.

I kept looking at her. I was hoping she would stay, but she seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

I looked around. The lane was silent. There was no one around. It was an opportune moment and an opportune place. But I was losing my resolve. For a moment, I thought of telling her to meet me at the same place the next day. But then I knew I could not afford to lose the moment. I had to act now.

‘I…I like you.’ I blurted out, at last.

I was not sure if she heard me. She did not say anything. She continued looking down and then glancing this way and that, she turned to leave.

‘Will you meet me here tomorrow?’ I asked, seizing the moment.

‘Na re baba! I don’t think I can do all this,’ she said and then left, walking away briskly.

I was drained of all energy and somehow managed not to collapse on the road. I held on to the tree trunk and waited. I was scared and my chest continued to pound. I had finally said what I had to. Now I was not worried about what might happen. She may get upset, angry or even stop speaking to me. I was quite sure she would not use this route any more. Perhaps this was the end of it all. But having told her my feelings brought a great sense of relief to me. The load was off my chest.

The next day, I bunked the tuition class and stood below the peepal tree again. The old man whom I had encountered the previous day was not to be seen, but I saw a group of old ladies coming my way. I was worried they too may accost me and started walking to avoid a conversation. A few men passed my way and some school boys walked by as well. There seemed to be more than usual activity in the lane.

Shirodkar had said she would ‘not be able to do this’. I knew it was an immediate reaction. She would return by her usual route. But it was half past seven and she was nowhere to be seen. I waited until forty minutes past seven and then walked back towards the tuition classes. I did not see anyone on the way. It was almost time for the next batch to be over.

I realized my foolishness then. The very fact that I had not gone to the tuition class was enough for Shirodkar to guess I would be waiting for her in her area. Quite obviously, she would not take that route. Normally she does not glance at the boys’ side, but since our conversation she would have definitely checked if I had come in.