Shala (30 page)

We saw Manjrekar sir after a couple of days. We were standing outside the office room to collect cricket gear. It was a free period. We saw him walk down the corridor past us. For a moment we did not recognize him. His hair was dishevelled and there was stubble on his chin. He would normally wear a neatly ironed shirt and trousers, but his clothes looked shabby today. The shirt was not tucked in. The sleeves were not buttoned. We thought the police might have tortured him in custody. He did not even glance in our direction. He would normally talk to us with his arm around our shoulders. But today he did not look at us and walked out of the school.

I
was getting ready for the tuition class when Aaisaheb came in and asked, ‘What time does your class get over?’

‘Seven,’ I said.

‘I want you here by 7:15, okay? I don’t want you to stand there chatting with anyone.’

I was stumped. Aaisaheb stood at the door with her hands behind her back. Ambabai was reading a magazine sitting on the chair. I looked at her but she ignored me. It then dawned on me; it must have been Ponkshe kaku’s doing.

‘I have things to discuss with my friends.’

‘Boys or girls?’ Ambabai wanted to know.

‘How does it matter? And why are you bothered? And what is wrong with talking to girls? Don’t you talk to boys in your college?’

‘I don’t.’

‘Who’ll talk to you anyway? Have you seen your face in the mirror?’

‘Mukund!’ Aaisaheb shouted. ‘I will pull your tongue out. Don’t argue. I want you home by 7:15. Is that understood?’

I was already dressed up. I put on my sandals and left immediately. I was expecting this to happen sooner than later. Ponkshe kaku must have complained. Not carrying her bag was a huge mistake. I was paying for it now. I looked back. Ambabai’s face was crestfallen. I felt bad but she had no business to poke her nose into my affairs. I had decided to come home early that day. In fact, I could have come at ten past seven had I wished to, but I whiled away my time chatting with some friends and entered home only at half-past seven. Baba was already home and no one said a word to me.

W
e came to know after two days that Manjrekar sir had been asked to leave. School would not be fun any more. His class would be taken by Pethkar ma’am now. His was the only class we used to look forward to. The only other person whose class was enjoyable was Zende sir’s, but he too seemed quieter now. Manjrekar sir used to make the class entertaining and he was the only reason we had enjoyed the Scouts’ camp. All the boys were depressed.

‘Ichibhana, this does not portend well for us,’ Surya said.

‘Now people like Bendre ma’am will sit on our head’s,’ Phawdya said.

‘It is Emergency all over,’ Chitre added.

‘Shall we collect a petition from all the students?’ Bibikar suggested. ‘We can also go on strike. Those school boys in Vikroli had done that.’

It was a great idea, especially since Manjrekar sir was not at fault. But we could not take the idea to fruition. We did discuss it, but the lead should have been taken by the eleventh and twelfth standard boys. We were told that Thombre from eleventh had spoken to Zende sir, but he was informed that the management was not willing to take any steps as this case involved a girl. The teachers had taken up the cause but to no avail. He also mentioned that since Manjrekar sir had not been made permanent they did not have a good reason to oppose his termination. We had no choice but to give up.

But the event shook up everyone. Bindaas girls like Sukdi walked with their heads down and girls like Sakhardande had mellowed a lot. Boys like Chawre, who would openly flirt in the playground, were not to be seen now. I remember we had a rare cold wave once in the winters when everyone walked around as if frozen. Shirodkar had stopped glancing in my direction now. Our eyes never met.

At home, too, Aaisaheb came to know of Manjrekar sir’s episode. She must have heard about it from Ambabai; by then, it was the talk of the town.

‘Is it true?’ Aaisaheb asked me that evening.

‘Yes,’ I said, casually.

‘Was she the same girl with whom you stand there chatting?’

I didn’t know what to say. I was tempted not to answer but then that would have been worse.

‘I don’t stand anywhere
talking
to a girl,’ I insisted. ‘This is a different girl.’

Aaisaheb was not convinced.

‘Forget studies and do other tamasha,’ she said. ‘Is this a school or a drama company? Just see the antics of these young children! And the teachers? If they themselves behave so, what can you expect from the students?’

‘That’s why I said you should not put him in that school,’ Ambabai added. ‘We should have admitted him in Subhash. They don’t allow all this nonsense there.’

I was tempted to tell her about the famous Subhash affair, but it would have served no purpose. There was no point in defending Manjrekar sir either.

‘And I am warning you,’ Aaisaheb said, wagging a finger at me. ‘Beware! Don’t get into any of these affairs. You have your tenth boards next year. I hope you remember.’

Yes, I remember! I muttered to myself. I had realized that all this was not going to be easy. The soft cloud floating around me had vanished long back, and like the dry wind blowing through my classroom windows, I could feel the heat on me now. There was no point in letting them know. I had to be careful.

T
hat evening there was a satyanarayan puja in KT and Vijay’s room. They had invited each and every resident. It was quite a surprise to hear they were holding a puja; they did not have a single picture of any god in their room and KT had once argued with Ponkshe kaka that there was no point in worshipping a stone idol. Aaisaheb concluded that one of them was getting engaged. I returned from my tuition and was planning to visit them when Ambabai said, ‘Come, let’s go. I was waiting for you.’

‘What work do you have there?’ Aaisaheb shouted. ‘Have you no sense? There is no need for you to go anywhere.’

Ambabai had put on her sandals. She discarded them now, making a face. Served her right! She had been acting oversmart these days. To add insult to injury, I thumbed my nose at her before going out.

I went upstairs. Their house was full. They had invited a lot of people from outside. A large number of chappals and shoes lay outside the door. I looked at the crowd. There was no one from our building. They were all outsiders. Some of the women had bob-cut. I was about to go back when KT spotted me and said, ‘Come, Mukund. Come and sit next to me.’

I then realized that they were actually holding a meeting. They had performed the puja earlier, but in reality they were holding a meeting to discuss the Emergency. Vijay clarified that they were not allowed to hold a meeting openly, hence the ploy. He then reeled out statistics of the number of people arrested all over the country. He spoke about how people were not allowed freedom of speech and how stacks of magazines were being confiscated. The room was crowded, but I was enjoying the discussion. Nikam kaka came in and quickly realized that a meeting was in progress. He took the prasad, but when Vijay requested him to sit down he refused, asking them to carry on. He cautioned them to be careful.

I came down after nearly three quarters of an hour. Aaisaheb asked, the moment I stepped in, ‘What took you so long?’

‘Aai, they were singing songs and cracking jokes,’ I said. ‘Real good jokes. It was fun.’

She did not question me further. Of course, I was prepared to recount a few jokes from the many Chitre had told me.

I
was pleasantly surprised to see Naru mama sprawled on the cot when I came back from school the next day. He had not sent a letter nor called up Baba’s office. But I was very happy to see him. I had so much to tell him and many things to ask.

‘Arre! Naru mama!’ I exclaimed.

‘You bet!’ he said, punching me lightly on my stomach. ‘See! Here I am!’

‘Damn good! Hope you are going to stay for a while?’

‘He is not staying,’ Aaisaheb said. ‘It’s a flying visit.’

‘Mama is getting married,’ Ambabai added.

‘Don’t tell me!’ I said. ‘Who is she?’

Naru mama did not answer. A smile played on his lips.

‘Tell me please, Naru mama,’ I repeated.

He did not reply but pointed towards the table.

‘Look at this photo here,’ Aaisaheb said. ‘Take it carefully. There is a horoscope along with the photograph.’

I eagerly opened the envelope but was disappointed to find that the girl wore a big bindi on her forehead. She looked like one of our many relatives. She was quite ordinary to look at, nothing to write home about.

‘So? How do you find your mami?’ Aaisaheb asked.

‘Nice,’ I said. I knew the correct things to say. ‘But what is her name?’

‘See the horoscope. It is mentioned there,’ Ambabai said.

I unfolded the paper containing the horoscope and saw that there was a host of information in it, along with the star sign, date of birth etcetera, and the name—Pratibha Ramchandra Kulkarni.

I felt cheated and was about to ask Naru mama whatever happened to his plans of marrying a Christian girl, but I kept quiet in Aaisaheb’s presence. I soon got the other details. The marriage was not fixed yet. The girl lived near Naru mama’s town. He had liked her and their horoscopes had matched, but the marriage would not be fixed without Aaisaheb’s permission. Aaisaheb and Naru mama would visit the place to meet the bride’s family. Aaisaheb would return after two days. ‘He has finalized everything. He just needs me to give the official stamp of approval,’ I heard Aaisaheb telling Baba that evening.

I bunked the tuition hoping to spend time with Naru mama, but in vain. Aaisaheb insisted on buying a saree for Aaji and she had to shop for other things. Ambabai too joined the bandwagon. Naru mama wanted me to come along. We finally left after Baba returned from office and had had his cup of tea. Aaisaheb decided to buy a saree for the prospective bride in advance in case things progressed well at the meeting. We then made the customary visit to Pethe ice-cream parlour. Aaisaheb went into the bangles shop next door and I got a chance to ask Naru mama, ‘Naru mama, you were to marry a Christian girl— what happened?’

He smiled and did not reply. After a moment he said, ‘That’s what my plan was. But what to do, I found her first!’

I did not believe him but had no other option than to keep quiet.

Aaisaheb left the next day and returned after finalizing everything. The wedding was fixed for a date after my final exams.

I
decided to meet Shirodkar the day Aaisaheb left with Naru mama. Luckily, Mande and Juvekar were both absent that day. I did not sit next to Pingle but on the last row so that I could slip away the moment the class got over. I walked briskly in the direction of Shirodkar’s house and went and stood near Dedhiya Kirana Store.

She came in early as there were no friends to chat with. We did not stop and chat near the grocery but continued walking and then taking a turn into another lane, stood near the peepal tree.

‘Did Juvekar not come today?’ I asked.

‘No. It seems she’s unwell.’

‘Mande too did not come, I believe.’

‘I don’t know why.’

‘Good that they both were absent.’

She merely smiled in reply. I was quiet for a while, but I knew what I had to discuss. The Ambekar episode was a huge one to talk about.

‘It was sad for Manjrekar sir, no?’ I asked.

She nodded wordlessly.

‘That Ambekar is amazing!’ I said sarcastically. ‘Why did she have to take sleeping pills?’

She look uncomfortable. ‘We should not stand here and chat.’

‘Then where shall we go?’

‘Nowhere,’ she said. ‘I will go home now.’

She said so but did not move. I realized that I had made a mistake by talking about Ambekar. No girl in the class was comfortable talking about her. I changed the topic.

‘Naru mama’s marriage has been fixed,’ I said and then realized that she may not know who Naru mama is.

‘My Naru mama is a bindaas character, you know,’ I said. ‘He teaches English in a college but is like a friend to me.’

‘Aiyaa, really?’ she said. ‘Where will the wedding happen?’

‘In his town.’ I said. ‘After the exams. We’ll go and stay in Aaji’s house. In fact, Naru mama wanted to marry a Christian girl, you know?’

‘Really? A Christian?’

‘You bet! He had planned so but could not somehow manage it. He then found someone from our caste.’

I had deliberately stressed on the caste factor hoping she would get the hint. It was not going to be smooth sailing for us. But she just nodded her head. I was struggling to find things to talk about.

‘What shall we do going forward?’ I asked.

I had expected her to respond in her usual manner asking ‘What do you mean?’, and I would be at my wits’ end to explain. But she said nothing and simply looked at me. She then started to look the other way, without saying a word.

It was getting dark and the lane was silent. There was no sound either, of a radio or any children playing. The lamp at the end of the lane burnt while darkness crept up slowly. The peepal tree stood still without a leaf moving. Everything stood still.

‘Tell me,’ I urged her.

‘What do you mean?’ her voice took on a serious tone.

I realized that the stillness had changed to something deeper. The tension in the air was palpable.

‘I mean, in future,‘ I repeated.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, looking down at the ground.

I realized that she was not avoiding my question; she genuinely did not know the answer. The feeling of emptiness in the pit of my stomach grew deeper and my heart began to throb hard. The darkness around us seemed to be getting darker. Suddenly, a deep sense of anger enveloped me. I was angry at the world, angry at our town, my school, Appa, Bendre, Ambekar—even Manjrekar sir! And then a strange fear gripped.

She did not stay for long. Using the excuse of someone entering the lane, she briskly walked away in the direction of her house. I wanted to say we shall meet at the same place the next day, but it was too late. She had already left.