Shala (29 page)

I looked at her, my mouth agape. Ambabai would love to have these flowers, but there was no way I could take them. Firstly, she would not believe I got flowers for her. And if I were to tell her where I got them from, both Aaisaheb and Ambabai would fall off their seats.

‘No,’ I lied. ‘She doesn’t wear flowers.’

We walked around the garden for a while. Her sister and Sandeep were in tow, but the very act of walking around with her was a pleasant one. Naru mama was right; one should not try meeting a girl anywhere outside. One should simply go over to her house. And if the house is a bungalow with a garden like this one, I could go there every day.

‘Tai! Show him the rose buds,’ her younger sister piped up.

‘Look at this one,’ she said, pointing to a rose sapling in a pot. ‘It is her work. They have been taught grafting in their school.’

We too had had such gardening lessons in our school. She had grafted a thin stem to a thick one and wrapped a plastic sheet around the joint.

‘Shall I show you my snail?’ Sandeep asked.

‘Sure,’ I said.

Sandeep got a matchbox kept in one corner. There was a snail inside, curled up in the shell. Sandeep lifted the snail and put it on the floor, but it would not come out. He tried poking it with a twig.

‘Don’t trouble it,’ Shirodkar said. ‘Leave it be. We will see it later.’

We walked around the garden and then went inside.

‘Hey, what shall we play?’ her sister popped a question.

I was taken aback. Did they think I was visiting to play with them? I looked askance at Shirodkar.

‘Wait a while,’ she said. ‘We’ll see later.’

I was hoping her sister and Sandeep would get busy with their own games and leave us alone, but they continued to sit there. There was a couch on one side with two chairs. They had cotton cushions on them, with some embroidery work on the covers. I had seen Ambabai do such work. There was a teapoy and another low cot to sit on. The walls were lined with big boxes, which doubled as additional seats. The boxes were covered with bedcovers. I noticed her father’s name painted on the boxes.

‘What will you have?’ her mother asked, coming into the hall. ‘Tea or coffee?’

‘No. I am good,’ I said.

‘Why? What do you have at home? Milk?’

‘No. I have tea.’

‘Then have tea here,’ she said. ‘Why are you saying no?’

We sat in the hall. I wasn’t sure what to talk about when Sandeep came out of the room carrying a bat. He dumped a ball in my lap and then went and stood near the wall.

‘Throw the ball,’ he said.

‘Arre! Why are you playing inside the house?’ Shirodkar shouted.

‘Five. Just five balls,’ he pleaded.

I was tempted to bowl him out, spinning the ball the way Phawdya does, but then I decided to gently lob the ball. But he still missed it. I then let the ball bounce twice and he was able to hit it. The younger sister sat in one corner with a long face.

‘Go, get your stamp notebook,’ Shirodkar told her. She brightened up and then went inside to get her notebook. There were stamps stuck on each page. She then sat next to me and showed me each page indicating the country—this is Nepal, this is Norway, this is Canada, and so on. I managed to snatch a glance at Shirodkar when she had gone in to get the notebook, and we exchanged a knowing smile.

I remembered I too used to collect stamps earlier. We had one Mr Potnis as our neighbour and he would get letters from some of his relatives staying abroad. I would remove the stamps from the envelopes and store them in a packet.

‘I too have some stamps. I will give them to you,’ I said.

‘Aiyaa, really? How nice!’ she exclaimed. ‘Tai, remind him.’

Her mother came in with tea. I was sure that it would not be just a cup of tea. There would be some snacks too. She carried a large cake in another plate.

‘Here. See if you like this cake,’ she said, handing me the tea cup.

The cake was home-made and it tasted really nice. Aaisaheb tries making a cake, putting some sand on a tawa and a baking vessel over it, but it does not turn out as well. It invariably gets burnt at the bottom. But this one was uniformly soft and nice. I was quite sure it would be good.

‘What are these boxes for?’ I asked, indicating at the row of boxes along the wall.

‘Arre! Her father you know! He gets transferred every now and then. We use them to pack our stuff,’ her mother said. ‘Did you like the cake?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then have some more,’ she said. ‘Sandu, you too have some.’

I heard footsteps at the door and then her Akka walked in. I was quite sure it was her Akka by the way she walked in. She glanced at me and would have understood that I was Shirodkar’s classmate.

‘Classmate,’ her mother said.

‘Oh, is that so?’ she said, smiling and then asked me, ‘What is your name?’

I told her my name and she smiled. She was as beautiful as Marathe—in fact, a little taller. One look at her and I knew all the boys in her college must pine for her.

‘His sister’s in college too,’ Shirodkar said.

‘Which one?’

I told her the name, but she was not aware of it. She was in a Commerce college, so it was unlikely that they would know each other.

‘He calls his sister Ambabai,’ Shirodkar said.

‘Really!’ she exclaimed and both of them burst out laughing.

I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I looked at her and she was still laughing. Then I too joined in their laughter.

‘Will you have tea?’ her mother asked her sister. ‘There is some left. Your father is expected any minute.’

‘No. I had a cup at Kedare’s place,’ she said and then went inside.

We then talked for some more time. Sandeep would ask me to throw the ball at him once in a while. The younger sister tried playing the word game with me. I knew all the words. I then tested her by giving a few easy ones. When I tried a difficult one, she was stumped. Even Shirodkar could not guess the answer. Her Akka came out once to attempt and then gave up. I was eager and at the same time a little nervous about her father coming in. I prayed that his local train may get late, but then I was also eager to see what he looked like.

He came after a while. Sandeep dropped his bat and jumped on to him. He exclaimed, ‘Arre, arre’ but then caught him mid-air. He was, as I had imagined—fair, bespectacled, a little bald and clean-shaven. He was wearing a yellow shirt with some floral design and it was tucked inside his trousers unlike my Baba who never tucks in his half-sleeved shirt. He seemed a little tired. He sat down on the sofa to remove his shoes when he saw me. My heart was beating hard.

‘Who is this?’ he asked. He did not seem irritated.

‘He is my classmate,’ Shirodkar said. ‘Joshi.’

I knew what I had to do when introduced. I was ready with a smile and a namaskar with folded hands. He was pleased.

‘Namaskar, namaskar!’ he said, smiling. He then asked the next question, as expected, ‘What does your father do?’

‘He is in the Sachivalaya,’ I said

‘Oh, is that so? Which department?’

I was going to say ‘Shikshan’ in Marathi but managed to say ‘Education’.

‘Nice!’ he said, as expected. He then looked at her mother and asked, ‘So have you offered tea to Joshi saheb? I wouldn’t mind a cup either; if there is any.’

They laughed at his comment. I was blushing and wanted to hide my face. He then walked out of the room patting my back. Shirodkar smiled, enjoying the banter.

I knew it was time for me to leave. That’s the norm in most households—you leave when the friend’s dad arrives. Everyone gets busy after that. Ambabai’s friends start leaving the moment Baba arrives.

I stood up after a while.

‘Do come again,’ her mother said.

‘And don’t forget the stamps,’ the younger one reminded.

‘Next time we will play in the garden,’ Sandeep added.

Shirodkar and her Akka did not say anything but smiled. I looked back while opening the latch at the gate and she waved. I took a little extra time to put the latch back.

I was absolutely at peace with myself. I had nothing more to desire. I had got what I had wanted. Walking back home, I could clearly see everything on the road despite the darkness—the stone well, Urban Bank building, Vaishali Cloth stores, Pendse Doodh Mandir, Khoja Bakery, Om Market and so on. There was nothing to fear any more. There were no worries. All my troubles were over. I could now be peaceful and carefree. There was no need to be worried of the boys teasing me. And even if they did, there was no need to react or hide things.

I decided I needed to tell everything at home. I would wait for an opportune moment to tell—‘Aai, there is this girl in my class. She has two sisters and a brother. Her father is a bank manager. They are all very decent folks and you need not be worried. I will study well and try to get the first rank too. I will also do engineering as you want me to.’

I was sure that she would not get upset if I told her all this. She was quite nice, after all. And I was the only son, her pet. Everything was taken care of. All I had to do now was to clear my ninth and then tenth standard. And then once I passed twelfth standard and reached college, the whole world would be mine. I would be an adult. No one would bother me any more.

I
reached home at dinnertime. Aaisaheb was giving finishing touches to the dinner and Baba was just back from office and removing his shirt. Ambabai’s friends had gone back. I went in, had a quick wash, and then took my place at the table to study. I opened up the Algebra book. The chapter on linear equations was a difficult one but I was able to solve them.

When we sat down to dinner, Baba said, ‘Mahajan from my office has suggested an alliance for Naru. She’s a B.Com and has a part-time job. Her father works in our office.’

‘What is their surname?’ Aaisaheb asked.

‘I am told they are Deshmukhs.’

‘Deshmukh?’ Aaisaheb wondered.

‘Yes. Yajurvedi.’

‘Yajurvedi! No way!’ Aaisaheb retorted. ‘Are there no girls left in our caste?’

‘Aai!’ Ambabai exclaimed.

‘You shut up! Don’t try to give your smart opinions.’

‘Naru mama is going to marry a Christian girl,’ I said casually.

It took a while for Aaisaheb to register what I said and then she exploded.

‘Christian? Let him do that,’ she challenged. ‘I won’t ever see his face. Then I am dead as far as he is concerned and he is dead as far as I am. I don’t care if the girl is blind, dark, short, handicapped or squint-eyed. She
has
to be from our caste.’

She then continued serving us while she muttered different examples. Someone she knew had married a person from a different caste; how the CKPs behave and how the Saraswats do. This is what they probably discuss in their meetings in the chawl and in their ladies’ club. Her best friend here is Nikam kaku. She has never had an argument with her. She’s constantly at loggerheads with Ponkshe kaku, but when it comes to inviting a married woman to dinner, she always calls Ponkshe kaku, just because she’s from the same caste as ours. And if there is a need to invite a boy for the function it’s always their son Kiran. That Kiran has no manners—he fills up his plate like a greedy pig and then wastes most of the food. Aaisaheb gets irritated and curses him, but then the next time she invites the same fellow again. We tolerate all this. Ambabai, otherwise ready to argue at the drop of a hat, was silent. The discussion was over as far as Baba was concerned. He does not like to interfere in her family matters beyond a point. He went and sat outside after washing his hands.

But a creeping fear filled me. I had never thought along these lines.

O
n Monday morning, Surya was waiting for us at our adda.

‘Ichibhana, Joshi, you know what Ambekar has done?’ he asked the moment I stepped in.

‘What happened?’

‘That Ambekar—she popped sleeping pills.’

I looked at Chitre and Phawdya. I knew what Surya was saying, but one could never trust him completely. He may have invented the whole thing and one could not afford to have such rumours floating around.

‘But why?’ I asked, looking at Chitre.

‘She tried to commit suicide,’ Chitre said, his voice taking on a serious tone.

I looked at all of them. I wanted to be sure they were not pulling my leg. But that did not seem to be the case.

‘She popped in a whole bottle of sleeping pills last afternoon,’ Surya said. ‘She’s in the hospital now. What guts, Ichibhana!’

‘Saale
,
why don’t you tell me the whole thing properly,’ I said. ‘Who told you all this?’

‘No one needs to. The whole town knows. What a scene there was last evening!’ Surya said. ‘Police, ambulance—and the note she had written! You know who she named?’

‘Who?’

‘Manjrekar sir!’

‘Don’t tell me!’

‘You bet, Ichibhana! And do you know what she wrote in the note? “Manjrekar sir does not love me. That’s why I am committing suicide.”’

The whole thing was unbelievable. But it was true. I put down my bag, sat next to Surya and said, ‘Surya, tell me everything properly.’

Surya then recounted the story. Ambekar’s family had decided to go for the afternoon show of
Sholay
. She had already seen the movie and declined to go, staying back at home. Her mother is in the habit of taking sleeping pills as she cannot sleep at night. There were a few tablets left in the bottle. She wrote her note, popped the remaining pills and went to sleep. When the family returned they were shocked to find her unconscious with the note by her side. The municipal ambulance was called for. Apparently, the number of pills was not large and she survived. The police came in the next morning.

I was stunned. Chitre and Phawdya were quiet.

‘I had a hunch, bhenchod,’ Surya said. ‘She was trying to woo sir.’

‘Where’s the hunch?’ Chitre said. ‘It was evident. She was after him from day one.’

‘Fuck!’ Phawdya said. ‘She had complained that the girls were teasing her, remember?’

‘What will happen now?’ Surya asked.

‘What will happen? Sir will be forced to marry her,’ Chitre said. ‘These girls are very shrewd.’

‘Fuck!’ Phawdya repeated. ‘So that’s the plan, is it? She must have got the idea from some movie.’

‘Ichibhana, she’s really clever,’ Surya said. ‘And look at her guts! To pop pills like that!’

‘That’s no big deal,’ Chitre said. ‘One of the girls near my mavshi’s place in Bandra drank Tik-20.’

‘What is that?’ Surya asked.

‘It is an insecticide. It burns like hell. The girl was screaming and writhing all over.’

‘Did she die?’

‘No. The doctor saved her.’

‘Some people slit their wrists,’ I added.

‘That’s easy, bhenchod,’ Surya said. ‘Take the blade and
khachakk
!’

‘Hey, come on! Let us go. Let us see what’s happening in school,’ Phawdya said.

To our surprise, most students, seemed to have got the news. They stood huddled in groups whispering to each other. Then everyone gathered around Teredesai as his house was right across Ambekar’s. He was in his elements recounting the episode, exaggerating the events.

S
chool started as usual, but no one seemed to be attentive. Ambekar’s vacant bench seemed to stand out. The first period was Paranjpe ma’am’s for Marathi. She seemed a little tense, but did not say anything. She went through the motions of teaching the chapter, but no one paid any attention. Everyone had the same question in their mind—what would happen now? Marathi was followed by Hindi and English. We could speak a little in the Hindi class, but there was pin-drop silence in the English period. The next class was taken by Zende sir and we expected him to say something, but he too kept quiet. He did not crack his usual jokes. We all waited for the mid-break.

Surya had a brainwave in the fourth period—to go and have a look at Ambekar’s house in the break. It was a great idea. Her house was a little far away, but we could reach there in time if we ran all the way. We ran out the moment the bell rang. Fatso Shembekar and Teredesai joined us. We could not refuse Teredesai as his house was in the same area.

We reached Ambekar’s house to find the doors and windows shut. A few bedsheets hung out in the balcony to dry. The houses around too seemed to be shut. We expected a crowd there, but there was none. Teredesai went to his house. There were a saloon and a presswallah nearby.

‘I don’t think anybody’s home,’ Chitre said.

‘They must be at home, but they would have shut the door,’ Phawdya remarked.

‘She must not have returned from the hospital,’ Surya said.

Someone stepped out of the saloon with a pair of scissors and a comb in his hand, chewing on paan. Letting out a stream of spit, he asked, ‘What do you want, eh?’

‘Nothing,’ Surya answered and then putting his arm around my shoulders said, ‘Ichibhana, let us go. There is nothing to see here.’

By the time we returned, we got the news that Manjrekar sir had been arrested by the police. Ganoba had got the news. He did not tell us, but he had told Thombre from eleventh standard. Apparently Appa had got the phone call. Manjrekar sir had not come to school that day. We did not have his class that day, but no one else seemed to have seen him. Appa called for a meeting of all the teachers after the mid-break. They assembled in his room. It was ten minutes since the bell rang, but no one came out. The tension in the air was palpable. No one said anything, but there was a lurking fear in everyone’s minds.

The atmosphere in the afternoon, after the break, was tense. The fact that they had arrested Manjrekar sir meant that the matter was serious. The class was nervous and alert. We went through the motions of attending the other classes. We could hear the other classes going on as usual. The eighth standard guys were reciting a poem loudly and the tenth standard chaps came out into the playground. But our class was silent. Halbe sir explained a few theorems, but no one could pay any attention. Even he seemed a little distraught.

I broke the news to Pingle in the tuition class and he went and relayed it to the boys from Subhash. They exclaimed, ‘Aila, really!’ Shirodkar must have told Mande. I looked at Shirodkar a couple of times but did not smile. There was no question of meeting her after the class that day.

The air was tense the next day too at school, and much more than the previous day. Everyone in school knew the chain of events. The police had arrested Manjrekar sir. Ambekar’s family had handed over the note to the police and he was kept in custody.

We were shaken to the bones.

‘They would hammer him badly,’ Santya said. ‘They would burn him with cigarette ends and pound his knees with a rod. My Ba was made to lie down on slabs of ice.’

‘They would not do anything like that to Sir,’ Chitre said. ‘They would not have put him behind bars.’

‘What do you mean?’ Surya said. ‘There is no guarantee when dealing with the police. They may break his legs.’

‘Bloody hell! What a pity that Manjrekar sir has become a victim of all this,’ Phawdya cursed.

We all echoed his sentiments. We may not have felt so bad had it happened to someone else—Prem Chopra, Kendalkar sir, Redkar—anyone. But Manjrekar sir! And that too in police custody! It was too much to bear.

‘Ichibhana, sir is not at fault, you know,’ Surya said. ‘It’s Ambekar who was interested in him.’

‘That’s true,’ Phawdya said. ‘Sir never encouraged her!’

‘But, bhenchod, why should she write Sir ’s name,’ Surya asked. ‘She was going to die in any case.’

‘That was precisely her plan,’ Chitre said. ‘This is what people attempting suicide do to make the others listen to them.’

‘But what if she had died?’

‘She wouldn’t have. She’s too shrewd. She knew the safe number of tablets!’

‘Chaila!’ Surya exclaimed. ‘But Sir is trapped in this whole mess!’

There was no way to know what action was being taken against Manjrekar sir. He was the only person with whom we could afford to be free. But we could not have asked him anything in this case. All we could do was discuss amongst ourselves. The girls who had teased Ambekar, especially Mane and the birdies, were tense too.

Someone commented that Mane might get arrested if Ambekar did not recover. That scared the hell out of her and she started crying. When Barve ma’am entered the class, she was sobbing into her handkerchief. When asked for the reason, one of the birdies said, ‘She’s feeling bad for Ambekar.’ Barve ma’am was silent for a while and then shot off, ‘I don’t understand what is wrong with all you girls? Do you even understand the meaning of love? What is all this nonsense about love and letters and all that? You watch some movies and try to emulate them. Now see what this has led to!’

She then lectured us for the entire hour. They must have been discussing it in the staff room and she was waiting for a cue to let it out. She was one of the seniormost and on the verge of retirement. That gave her the authority to lecture us. She continued to sermonize for a long time. She was primarily addressing the girls, and they listened to her quietly with their heads down. The boys were silent though we kept exchanging glances.

Chitre, in a low voice, interrupted her saying, ‘The syllabus is yet not complete.’ The way he said it was interesting; everyone could hear it, yet no one knew who had said it. We all wanted to burst out laughing but kept a straight face. It was not clear whether ma’am had heard him, but then she stopped her sermon and started teaching.

The next few days were tense as before. Teredesai got news the next day that Ambekar had returned home. The boys continued to let their imagination run wild. Ambekar, quite expectedly, did not come to school. She wouldn’t have dared to. Teredesai tried to impress others telling them how he had seen her standing in the balcony when Phadtare from class eleven asked, ‘Is she having bouts of vomiting?’

Everyone laughed hearing that. Teredesai is a little dull-witted and took some time to get the meaning. But when he did, he quickly disappeared.