Shala (22 page)

I followed her and when we met, she smiled knowingly. She took out the book from her bundle and said, ‘Your book!’

I took the book but was unable to speak. My heart was beating hard, and I did not know what to say now that we had met.

She quickly glanced in both the directions. The lane was silent. The street lights had come on. We stood below a street lamp. It seemed dark despite the glow of the lamps.

‘Why did you give me the book?’ she started. ‘I could not find a way to return it.’

I did not answer. I could not straightaway say it was only for the purpose of hiding that note. That purpose had been served in any case.

‘You could have kept it,’ I said.

‘Aha! What do you mean kept it? I have mine,’ she said.

I realized that I had to say something else to keep the conversation going. We were losing precious time.

‘It was good you came to the temple the other day,’ I said.

She smiled but did not reply.

‘Why did you get your younger sister along?’ I asked.

‘What could I have done? It was not possible to come alone.’

She was right and it had not made much difference. I had to find another topic for our conversation. There was no point in discussing old issues.

‘We are going to have the khari kamai session soon, isn’t it?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I feel very embarrassed going for it,’ she said. ‘Especially to those who know us. Doing errands is all right but how to ask for money? Don’t you feel the same?’

‘Yes, me too.’

‘And the people here are so stuck up! That Bhole aaji made me sift a whole tin of rice. And the money I got in return was a mere four annas. Aai was really upset because I don’t work at home but can go and slog in someone else’s house. It was lucky I was not asked to wash their dirty utensils.’

I laughed out loud imagining all the girls in our Guides’ team going out and washing utensils in people’s homes.

‘What are you laughing for?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps you are not asked to do any work.’

‘We never do anything,’ I said. ‘They give us money to get us out of their hair as soon as possible!’

‘Aiyaa! That’s not khari kamai. That is jhooti kamai.’

I had no answer. I could not tell her that many families look at the card we carry from school and assume we are collecting some donation for some thing or the other. Last year Chitre, Surya, Phawdya and I had collected money in this fashion. Most of the people would not even open their door fully but look at the card and give us some money. They would not even bother to sign the card. We would, of course, go to places a little away from our homes where people would not recognize us. But I could not tell her all this, and the fact that we had used that unaccounted money to enjoy some hot dosas in Anand Ashram Hotel.

I couldn’t say much, but I was enjoying our little chat there.

‘Shall I come to your place for khari kamai?’ I said, a little emboldened.

‘My home?’ she asked, a little surprised. ‘Why not? We will give you some work. I am sure Aai will pay you well.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, surely!’

‘You mean it? Shall I come? What will you tell your Aai?’

‘What is there to tell her?’ she asked. ‘She knows about khari kamai.’

‘Won’t she have any problems?’

‘No. Why would she have any problems? I will tell her you are my classmate.’

I was knocked out cold. I had never expected Shirodkar to be so bold. A feeling of lightness pervaded me. I realized I had been scared all along for no reason at all. I needed to be bolder now, I told myself.

‘I need to go. It is getting late now,’ she said.

The lane was desolate and it was getting dark. But I did not have the heart to let her go. I wished we could stand there and keep talking for ever.

‘Please wait for some more time,’ I pleaded.

‘Why?’ she asked, glancing around.

I could not answer. My heart kept thumping away. I did not know why I wanted her to stay.

She smiled, seeing me lost in my thoughts. But she did not leave. We looked at each other. It was dark, but the moment our eyes met, she looked away.

‘Let me go now,’ she said.

‘When shall we meet again?’ I blurted.

She did not say a word and then, glancing at me once more, walked away smiling to herself. I stood there rooted to the ground.

T
he next week started with khari kamai. I did not have the guts to visit Shirodkar’s house. Like last year, Chitre and I had the card where we could note down the amount received from each family. Chitre’s father gave him a five-rupee note. Chitre was smart enough to break down the amount into small change, showing receipts from different households: Wandrekar—fifty paise, Shetty—one rupee, Shah—fifty paise, Upadhyay—twenty-five paise, and so on, scribbling each signature in a different ink.

‘I am done,’ Chitre said. ‘You may go and earn your own way.’ Surya was ready to join us, but I did not want to take him along. Last year he had collected the money as if it were the Ganesh festival and used most of it to enjoy dosas and buy Cadbury’s chocolates for all of us. He had returned the balance amount of a mere thirty-five paise. Luckily, this time, his father had given him some errand to run, which kept him busy and he did not trouble us.

Aaisaheb gave me fifty paise while Ambabai gave me another twenty, but she made me trace three drawings on her handkerchief in return. I went to Upasni Aaji, who was pleased to see me and said, ‘Wah! It is nice that they teach you good values in your school.’ She then asked me to deliver some dabba to the Gogates in Dattawadi and I had to get her atta dabba from the neighbourhood atta chakki. When I asked her for my tip she got upset and said, ‘What do you mean asking for money? Is that what they teach you in school? I cannot give you any money.’ And then, plonking one laddoo on my palm, she said, ‘Here, take this.’ I was not interested in her disgusting laddoo, which was nothing but a big lump of sugar. I left in a huff.

Ponkshe kaka, as usual, had a hundred questions. ‘How am I to know how these people would use the money? What is all this fuss about khari kamai? I kept listening quietly as I knew that after the speech, he would take out a fifty-paise coin and hand it over to me saying, ‘Why do you want to do any task; here, take this.’ And that’s what happened. Nikam kaka was on his way to the cycle repair shop and was looking for someone to wheel the bicycle. I volunteered and he then put a twenty-paise coin in my hand. Mayekar kaku from the neighbouring house was listening to our conversation and she took out a four-anna coin, but I declined saying I would not take it for free. I then bought a loaf of bread for her from the shop.

I went upstairs to KT, Ashok and Vijay’s room too. KT was busy chopping onions while Vijay was washing clothes and Ashok was shaving. He asked, ‘Why don’t you attend our meetings these days?’

‘I don’t get time. I have tuition classes in the evening.’

‘Has anyone benefited from attending these classes?’ KT asked. ‘Why do you waste your time there?’

I would have agreed, but I could not tell them the real reason. I told them the reason for my visit.

‘What is all this?’ Vijay asked, reducing the radio volume.

‘This is khari kamai.’

‘So are you saying others are not earning their own bread?’ KT asked.

‘Your teachers are bloody smart!’ Vijay said. ‘They don’t work and make the children earn for them.’

Vijay took the clothes out to hang them to dry. He said, ‘Good. It is good to learn these things in childhood. You should know how to earn your own bread.’

‘And then let the leaders loot you of what you earn with toil and sweat!’

I was used to their comments and did not react. I looked around the room. A poster of a bearded man with long hair seemed fresh on the wall

‘Who is he?’ I asked.

‘He is Che,’ Vijay said. ‘Che Guevara. Do you want to read his book?’

‘Not now. Later,’ I said. ‘First I have to earn my own bread.’

‘Why are you wasting your time earning money for someone else?’ KT asked. ‘Instead, read this book.’

‘Don’t pester him,’ Ashok interjected. ‘Hey, Vijay. See if I have some coins in my pant pocket. Give it to him.’

‘No. I don’t want it that way,’ I objected. ‘Give me an errand to run.’

‘Forget it, yaar. You are our friend. Take it.’

‘No, no,’ I objected again. ‘I have to earn it.’

‘What can we give him to do…’ KT pondered and then suddenly an idea dawned on him. He stopped chopping the onions and looked at Vijay and Ashok. They waited for him to say something.

‘Wait! I have a task for you.’ He looked at his partners and said, ‘Will you do it? It is a small task.’

‘Yes, I will do it,’ I said. ‘What is it?’

KT wiped his hands on a towel and bent down to take out a cloth bag from under the bed. There was a small parcel in the bag. It was wrapped in paper. He took it out and asked,

‘What is the time now?’

‘Ten-thirty,’ Vijay said.

‘Then it is fine,’ KT said. He turned towards me and asked, ‘Do you know Gomantak?’

I nodded.

‘There is a paanwallah there. All you have to do is to deliver this parcel there.’

‘What’s in it?’ I asked. I realized that I should not have asked. I was sure he would not tell me.

‘There are a few papers in it,’ he said. ‘Just hand these over to the paanwallah. Tell him KT has sent you. Don’t speak anything else, okay? Not a word more.’

‘And don’t speak to anyone on the road,’ Vijay added.

‘No one will ask you anything,’ KT added. ‘Will you do this for us? You’ll get two rupees!’

I would have done the work even otherwise. It sounded thrilling. The way KT put it made it sound like an important task. I left immediately. The bag was a little heavy. The three of them came out and stood in the balcony. For a moment, I wanted to duck into my house to pick up my cap, but then I decided otherwise. Ambabai was at the door and asked, ‘Where are you off to?’

‘I have some work,’ I said, avoiding any further questions.

I looked up to see the three boys waiting for me to leave. KT gave me a thumbs-up signal.

I walked along the road, a little alert. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed me but realized I should walk casually. I was curious to open the bag and tried to feel the packet with my fingers. It had something rolled up in it. Suddenly I missed Shirodkar. It would have been fun to have her accompany me.

The paanwallah was there, sitting on a high seat inside his shop. There were a few customers and he was busy making paans for them. I stood for a while hoping that the customers would leave, but they seemed to be in no hurry. Seeing me, the paanwallah raised his eyebrows questioningly. Pointing at the bag, I said, ‘KT has sent this.’

He nodded and, with a jerk of his head, asked me to come in from the back door. I went in and was hoping to hide the bag somewhere, but he casually asked me to drop it on the floor and continued his work. There was no point in hanging around there any more, so I left.

I got a pat on my back when I returned and informed KT of the mission being successful. He filled up my card and signed it with a flourish. I pocketed the two rupees he gave me. Ashok gave me a new deck of cards.

Ambabai was curious as always and asked me what I had delivered in that bag for KT. I casually mentioned that he wanted some books to be given to a friend of his. She did not believe me.

S
chool resumed, as usual, after the sports meet, but had not picked up steam as the annual gathering was yet to take place. The gathering would have the usual fare of dance, plays, songs etc. The girls in our class felt a bit shy, having grown up a bit, and did not put up a dance performance this time. Desai, as always, had plans for a solo dance. Deodhar would sing while Kulkarni and Dongre would sing a duet based on two sisters-in-law. Bibikar, among boys, participated in a play titled, ‘The Stage Is Being Set.’ He may be a smartass otherwise, but acts well and hence is popular among the girls and teachers. Teredesai would have his usual comedy act, cracking cheap jokes. Surya came up with the funny idea of reciting Gangu’s ribald song.

His idea was scoffed at and everyone doubled up with laughter, so he dropped it and chose to volunteer. We had to select five volunteers from each class. In our class, other than the four of us, Santu and Harishchandra agreed to volunteer while among the girls, Sukdi, Ambekar and Mane came forward. Shembekar put forth his name seeing others participate when Zende sir commented, ‘Wah! It seems your class is quite keen on social service.’ He had, in fact, asked Shembekar and me to withdraw, but Surya insisted on our names and he agreed. That fatso was happy to be part of our group again, but he did not know that Surya had plans to slog his ass off.

It was also time for our annual trip but somehow the teachers were unable to find free days as they were asked to attend some training programme. To make matters worse, a bus carrying school children from Buldhana fell into a valley. The report was splashed across the front pages of all the newspapers. That silenced the issue of the trip for a while.

The trip was cancelled, but the annual Scouts and Guides camp was finalized. The NCC camp too was being held at the same time. Last year our school had saved time and money by organizing the Scouts and Guides camp in a temple in the adjoining village. The temple premises were large and the facilities were good. While the camp was fun, the fact that it was so close by took some of the excitement out of it. We pleaded with Rajguru sir to take us somewhere else this time. He may not have agreed on his own, but Manjrekar sir agreed to take us to Sule village. There is a huge dam in Sule next to which there is a school. We would have to take a local train and then a state transport bus to reach there. The best part was that the Scouts and Guides would camp in the same place.

It took an entire day to plan for the camp. We had to get everything—salt, rice, turmeric and chilly powder, onions, potatoes, vessels, spoons, blankets, sweaters, knives, rope, torch, what not. Luckily the teachers were getting tea, sugar and milk. It was my camp, but for a change Ambabai was excited and helped me pack, as if she herself were going. We had Sadu Kale with us, which was a great relief. He had lost his mother in childhood and knew how to cook; his chapattis were particularly good. So cooking would not be an issue.