Shala (2 page)

‘Yes. She was alone. I overtook her on the way. I suppose she came in a little early today.’

‘Sleeveless?’

‘No. No sleeveless blouse today.’

It is Surya’s firm belief that Zende sir and Paranjpe ma’am are having an affair because they walk down together from the railway station. Paranjpe ma’am comes from Bhandup and Zende sir comes in from Ghatkopar. Ma’am said that she comes by the 11:20 local. I had asked her whether Zende sir came by the same train. She was a little surprised and said, ‘Yes, there is no other train at that time. We both come by the same train.’ Ever since, Surya has triumphantly concluded that they are having an affair.

Surya is always scouting for such alliances. The most well-known affair is Sathe-Mohite’s. Sathe ma’am and Mohite sir have been around for years and years. They teach all subjects; though we are not being taught any subject by them this year. A junior college for the Eleventh and Twelfth Standards had been opened in our school premises. Those classes are held in the morning and all the senior teachers, including Sathe and Mohite, teach them. The Sathe-Mohite episode is quite notorious, and known to all outside our school too. Our school is called ‘Sukhdev Namdev Warhadkar Madhyamik Vidyalaya’ or in short, ‘Warhadkar High School’, but the children from other schools have nicknamed ours ‘Sathe-Mohite School’. Just as we call Tope High School the ‘Dighe-Pandit School’!

Surya believes that all ma’ams and sirs are up to something and, if not, there ought to be something to make them have an affair. Last Sunday, he wrote in bold letters on the blackboard outside school: ‘Paranjpe-Zende Shubh Vivah’. Everyone saw it and Ganoba, the watchman, had to hurriedly wipe it off. Surya is confident that if he writes this every day, it will result in them actually having an affair some day!

T
he school children were trickling in now. I moved closer to the window. As usual, the first ones to arrive were those silly Achrekar and Deshpande girls. They stay in the same chawl, share the same bench, spend their mid-break together under the neem tree and whisper animatedly to each other all the time, oblivious to all else. No one disturbs them; not even the teachers bother to ask them any questions.

The sun shone brightly now. There is a flat stretch between Mokshadham and Surya’s building. My earlier school, the one up to seventh standard, was on the other side of Mokshadham. How scared we were of that place then! The road skirts its tall walls and the smell of burnt flesh permeates the air once in a while. From time to time, you can see a procession carrying a dead body to Mokshadham. We would stand on one side, allowing the funeral procession to proceed.

There is a jhopadpatti right next to Mokshadham where children shit out in the open. A few shacks have come up along the way. Santu from our class stays there. His sister Sundri too is in our class. Santu is a good bowler. He often plays with us, but the girls do not talk to Sundri much. She sits alone on the last bench.

‘Surya, what time is it?’ Phawdya asked.

‘
Bara ku dus kum
,’ Surya said in his Bombaiya dialect, looking at his watch. ‘Ten minutes to twelve.’

Only a select few, other than Patil, have a wrist watch. Chitre could have easily got one, but he never felt the need for it. Aaisaheb has promised to get me one once I move into the next class. Of course, Baba’s old Favre Leuba has been lying idle ever since he bought a new Henri Sandoz, but we have such strange rules at home and so I wouldn’t be given a watch of my own till I get to Tenth Standard!

T
he eighth standard girls arrived in a group next. They normally arrive early. I don’t know most of them, except for one Pangarkar from our neighbourhood. Anyway, they are way too young for us, so we do not bother them much. We were all waiting for Kevda, especially Surya.

The road was now crowded with girls in blue skirts and boys in brown pants. Surya and Phawdya stood waiting near the other window, hidden from outside view. Chitre was busy, as usual, fiddling with his experiment.

We spotted Sakhardande from Tenth Standard. She walked alone today.

‘Look at the way she struts!’ Surya said.

‘Why don’t you whistle?’ Phawdya suggested.

Surya promptly put two fingers into his mouth and let out a loud
phityooo phitttt
. We all moved back instantly because we knew that Sakhardande would look up the moment she heard the whistle. She did look up but could not see anyone. She merely smiled and continued walking.

‘Saw how she smiled? Bhenchod!’ Surya muttered.

‘She’s real clever.’ Phawdya agreed.

‘Look at the way she juts out her tits!’ Surya exclaimed.

When Sakhardande was canvassing for the post of Student Representative, she had come to our class for a speech. Sawant from Tenth-D was another aspirant, as was Deshpande from Ninth-A. Everyone knew that Sakhardande was a carefree girl, but we were surprised to see her in our class. Rajguru sir was teaching us when she came in asking for permission to speak. She came up to us and announced, ‘There is no reason why boys cannot vote for girls. If I win I will ensure that the playgrounds are utilized well. I will get bats and balls for each class.’

‘Oh we all have bats all right!’ Phawdya said loudly.

The entire class was in splits. The joke was lost on the stupid girls, who kept asking, ‘What happened? Why are they laughing?’ Shrewd Sakhardande understood the pun, but chose not to react. The girls may have voted for her, but we all voted for Sawant. Deshpande is from our grade and was hoping he would get the support of the ninth and eighth graders, but he is too arrogant. No one would vote for him. Sawant won the election. Sakhardande wasn’t too perturbed when she lost the election, and continues to strut around jutting out her boobs as before.

M
anjrekar sir came in, holding his bicycle in his hands. Rajguru sir and Borhade ma’am walked along with him. We let them pass without making any comment. Bibikar came by. He knows we sit up here. He looked up and let out a shrill whistle. Surya replied with a whistle. Prem Chopra walked past, followed by Ghasu Gokhale. Ghasu has an irritating habit. He often waits near the walls of Mokshadham for some teacher or the other to come by so that he can show off by walking along with them.

The girls were streaming in continuously by now. Kevda came in. Kevda is the Gupte girl from eighth standard. She joined school this year and the entire school wants to hook up with her. She’s slim and tall and wears flowers in her hair each day, and also a leaf of fragrant kevda; hence the nickname. Surya fell for her on day one, but doesn’t know how to progress further. Earlier he used to wait by the roadside and stare openly at her. But we were worried that she’d complain to her father, or at school, and get us all into trouble. So now Surya contents himself with shouting ‘Kevda, Kevda’ from the window. I told him what Naru mama had advised; that you should never tease a girl in this fashion. It would only upset her and then you can forget about wooing her. Naru mama gives me such tips which I pass on to these guys. I don’t tease the girls or call them names. I just sit there, restless and helpless.

‘Chitre, look, your jaatwaali is coming this way!’

‘Let her,’ Chitre said. ‘I am not interested.’

‘You may not be, but we are!’ Surya said. ‘Saale, why don’t you introduce us to her? I’m sure you’ll have some connection in common.’

Surya’s guess was right. Chitre had told me once that Gupte’s mother goes to the same mandal as his. Their family had visited Chitre once, but he stupidly hid inside a room and never came out. Of course, we haven’t told Surya this lest he rag Chitre to death.

‘How the hell do I win her over?’ Surya wailed, looking at her. ‘What should I do?’

We said nothing. There was no point.

Sukdi and Bakre followed Kevda.

‘Joshi, Sukdi is here,’ alerted Surya.

‘Is she?’ I asked. I saw her coming our way. I allowed her to come as close as possible and then, stepping back a bit, shouted, ‘Ae Mahesssshhhh!’

Sukdi is four or five years elder to us. She joined our school when she was in seventh standard. She was probably in Tope High School earlier, and before that in Subhash Vidyalaya, close to her home. She was thrown out of various schools as she kept flunking and has now landed in our school. She has been having an affair with Mahesh Sutar for many years. One would think they’ve been together since birth! Mahesh often visits our school on his Speedking bicycle and they both talk to each other without a care of those around. Sukdi’s affair is known to everyone, including the sirs and ma’ams, even Appa. We often tease her, especially me, but she never gets ruffled. She’s very gentle.

The girls in our class do not let go of any opportunity to tease the boys, but not Sukdi. She’s the tallest in the class and sits alone. She has a sweet voice, and is often asked to sing in free periods and in all our school programmes. Mahesh has been beaten up by our boys a few times. Once when Surya was beating him up, Sukdi intervened and held his hand to stop him. Surya was too dumbfounded to react. Ever since, everyone has accepted their affair and no one troubles them now. Mahesh has a hardware shop in the market. He sits there the whole day. They both roam around the town and go together to the movies sometimes.

Sukdi did not react to my catcall and continued walking along with ‘shorty’ Bakre, royally ignoring us.

Kendalkar sir followed them. We saw him and fell silent. He is our supervisor and although Appa is the Principal, it is Kendalkar sir who runs the show. Appa is strict but doesn’t shout at anyone. The whole school calls him Appa though his full name is Appasaheb Ramchandra Tuljapurkar. That’s not the case with Kendalkar sir, though. He is one of the seniormost teachers in the school, and no one dare speak in his presence. Once he starts thrashing someone he loses all control. He used to stay in Kanhe village earlier and is familiar with the locals. People like Surya’s father like him a lot. Last year, one of Surya’s distant cousins was thrashed by Kendalkar sir for throwing ink on Halbe sir’s shirt. He was half-dead at the end of it but Surya’s uncle remarked, ‘You should have broken his hand so that he would dare not repeat such a prank.’

It is good that Kendalkar sir is not teaching us anything this year. He can teach any subject—Maths, Physics, whatever. We have to be very alert in his class. He would suddenly spring a question on one of us; if you didn’t answer, he would drawl, ‘Where’s your mind, you rascal?’ and then pound you on the back with his fists. He should have retired long back, but god knows when he actually will. We all eagerly await that day. He has six or seven students who go to his house for tuition, free of cost. If the student is weak in Maths the parents send him there. But the very thought of going to Kendalkar’s house is enough to make anyone an expert in Maths!

I
spotted Shirodkar from a distance. My heart was pounding loudly and there was that familiar feeling of emptiness in the pit of my stomach. I looked around; Chitre was fiddling with his ‘battery experiment’ and Surya and Phawdya were busy helping him. I peeped out to see Shirodkar walking down with Kanvinde and Watve. I knew the guys would pass some comment or the other seeing them. If I objected, that would be enough to create suspicion. I would be dead then!

I quickly tried to distract them before they could spot the girls.

‘Hey guys, have you finished Bendre ma’am’s homework?’

‘Homework?’ Surya asked, a little surprised. ‘Ichibhana, did she give us some homework?’

‘Of course! She had given us some words for which we had to write the synonyms.’

‘Oh god I’m dead! Joshi, have you finished it? Give me your notebook.’

I gave him my notebook. I could now go and sit at the window undisturbed. Chitre had done his homework, but he sat there comparing his notebook with mine. Surya and Phawdya had obviously not done anything and were busy copying from my notebook. The words were not difficult. I had to refer to the dictionary twice for words like ‘gallant’ and ‘penetrate’. The rest were quite easy. It was from a chapter on Robin Hood. I had got Naru mama to explain the story to me when he had last visited us.

Shirodkar had reached the foot of the building while the boys were busy copying. As usual, she sported a bunch of aboli flowers in her hair. Ambabai says the flowers are called kanakambaram in south India and firecracker in English. She loves to wear these flowers but is unable to find them. I wonder where Shirodkar gets them from! She has curly hair, which creates a sort of nice pattern around her face; just the way the hair falls on my mother’s face.

I held my breath while she passed by. It was good that I was sitting down because I felt weak in my knees. It felt good though! A great start to the day.

‘Anyone passing by?’ Surya asked, looking in my direction.

‘No one we know; some tenth standard girls,’ I replied.

‘Any good-looking chick to ogle at?’ he asked.

‘No. You finish your work. And remember the correct pronunciation. It is ‘forest’ and not ‘faarisht’
,
okay?’

S
hirodkar had left. There was no point in sitting there any more. Most of the children from our class had gone by now.

We ran down the steps to the rear. We never walk out of the entrance on the main road lest we get caught. We exit from the rear, circling the school to reach the back gate. We spotted the labourer woman getting ready to suckle her child and Surya wanted to ask her to finish before we left, so we would not miss anything! The fence behind our school has been bent low by the boys from Kanhe village. It is convenient to reach class that way.

Earlier, it was okay to reach school after the assembly had begun. But, ever since the Emergency was declared, there is a lot of stress on discipline, and we are forced to attend the assembly. These days, if you arrive late, you will not be allowed to attend classes. What’s more, you will have to bear some caning on your palm. And to add insult to injury, they are administered by Appa himself in his office. He would chant, while caning the students, ‘Should you not come on time, huh? Should you not come on time?’ We take care to arrive well in time, but we too have tasted the spanking once. Earlier there was just a single prayer in the assembly followed by ‘
Jana Gana Mana
’, and we were done. But now we are forced to sing ‘
Hum Honge Kamyaab
’. It was fun initially, but now we find it boring. Luckily we sing just the first stanza. If we sang the whole song we would never be kamyaab! School authorities now ask us to sing such songs even in the P.T. period! There are no such rules in Tope High School. Nana of Subhash Vidyalaya, in any case, supports the opposition party. I wonder why Appa is enamoured of all these things.