Shala (7 page)

‘Shhh…silence!’ Barve ma’am hissed from the bench across the girls.

A ceremony of garlanding the statue followed. The guest did their needful and the mayor stood up to deliver his opening speech waddling his way to the microphone.

‘Respected Chairman, officials of the school, Principal sir, all the teaching staff and my dear girls and boys,’ he began.

I knew the rest. I had heard many of his speeches.

‘As the first citizen of our town,’ I said, trying to sound gruff.

‘As the first citizen of our town,’ he repeated.

The boys burst out laughing. I turned back quickly to see how the girls had reacted to my wisecrack. Shirodkar tried to stifle her laughter, pursing her lips. Even Barve ma’am was trying to suppress a smile.

‘Shh…Joshi!’ She raised her eyebrows and put a finger on her lips motioning me to be silent. I ignored her.

‘What is this “first citizen” business?’ Surya muttered.

‘It means he has the right to be first at all places,’ Phawdya said.

‘At all places?’Surya asked.

‘Yes. Even at public latrines. He gets to go first.’

We all laughed.

‘Shh…’ Barve ma’am hissed again.

We were silent for a while. The mayor continued his lecture, recounting the sacrifices made by the freedom fighters, how we were indebted to them and why we children should learn from them, as we were future citizens, and so on and so forth.

I stole a glance at Shirodkar to find her listening earnestly to the speech. All the girls in my class pay attention to such boring speeches. Some are stupid enough to take notes! I was hoping she would look at me. No one would have noticed. But my fate! She continued to stare straight ahead.

‘Our freedom fighters swallowed bullets,’ the mayor continued, using the Marathi term for sacrifice. He drawled on, ‘And what do we eat now?’

‘Money,’ I answered.

The boys joined me in the laughter, but I turned to see that Shirodkar was not amused. I was silent for a while. The mayor spoke for ten more minutes followed by Doctor Shetty. He has recently joined the town hospital and cannot speak fluent Marathi.

‘My dear boys and girls,’ he started in English, pulling his trousers up a little. ‘Today is an important day.’

He continued his speech in English. I was able to understand most of it, but it was difficult for the others to follow. Chawre, sitting ahead of me, said a tad loudly, ‘Not samazeeing!’

The boys laughed and I turned back to see Shirodkar holding a handkerchief to her mouth to hide her laughter. I felt dejected. I should have been the one to quip. I had lost another golden chance. Appa heard Chawre and indicated with his forefinger to pick the villain out of the crowd. Prem Chopra immediately came over and asked Chawre to follow.

The elocution contest began once the guests had done their duty and had been duly escorted out. It began with the eighth standard students. They mug up their speech at home and recite like a parrot. In fact, most of the students do that. Some stand with their hands behind their backs and speak. But we do not tease these young kids. In fact, we encouraged a few by actually clapping for them.

Then we were in for a shock. Kevda stood up to deliver her speech. It took a while for Surya to register. He was busy polishing his belt’s buckle with a handkerchief.

‘Surya, look ahead,’ Phawdya nudged him with his elbow.

Surya’s mouth was agape.

She began in a soft voice, standing a little away from the mike. None of us could hear her properly.

‘Sound please!’ Someone shouted.

‘No breakfast?’ Bhaishetye teased.

‘Hey, just shut up, okay?’ Surya erupted. ‘If someone interrupts, I will break his teeth, bhenchod.’

Everyone was quiet until someone from the back called out, ‘Hey, Pendse! Look, your sweetheart is on stage!’

Surya could not take it any more. He turned back to ask, ‘Which one is Pendse? Who is he?’

‘Boys, stop talking!’ Barve ma’am shouted from across the room. ‘Mhatre, keep quiet.’

Surya was silent. Kevda did not speak for long, but she spoke well. Everyone was watching her intently. We clapped loudly to cheer Surya up. In fact, we overdid the clapping and some people turned around to stare at us.

There were more speeches and we kept busy with our pranks. I was at my wits’ end trying to impress Shirodkar. I commented on each and every speaker. Barve ma’am continued to warn us intermittently, but we ignored her. Manjrekar sir stared at us once, but no one bothered.

Bibikar stood up next, but none of us clapped. He started off in Marathi using words like
bandhu, bhagini
and
adhyaksh maharaj.
He then recited an English phrase, presumably learnt and memorized at home, ‘Fame is the fragrance of heroic deeds,’ he said. ‘The flowers of chivalry and not of weeds.’

I knew the meaning as I had read it in one of the books Naru mama had given me.

‘Ichibhana, what the hell is he blabbering?’ Surya asked.

Bibikar continued, ‘Our country has always been one step ahead when it comes to sacrifice and valour. One name which leads in this category is Bhagat Singh’s. He is my favourite freedom fighter. I like him because…’ Bibikar fumbled. He tried to recall the words… ‘I like him because…’

‘Because he used to wear a hat,’ I completed the sentence on his behalf.

The boys around laughed out loud. The girls joined in. But Bibikar continued without getting perturbed. I glanced to find Shirodkar listening attentively.

‘What did Bhagat Singh do when Lala Lajpatrai was attacked by the British?’ Bibikar asked theatrically.

‘He cooked subji and rotis,’ I retorted.

The boys laughed, encouraging me to go on.

‘Bhagat Singh gathered his friends and told them, come on….’

‘Come on, let us have wada-pav!’ I said.

‘Come on, let us teach them a lesson. His heart was filled with…’

‘The fire of revenge,’ I added.

Suddenly I realized my ear was very hot. I turned back to see Zende sir bent over me, twisting my ear.

‘Your tongue is wagging too much, eh?’ Zende sir said, continuing to yank my ear. ‘You want to give a speech, eh? Why don’t you go on the stage? You need guts to do that. Did you hear what he said? Fame is the fragrance of heroic-deeds. Got it?’

He twisted my ear fiercely. I would have burst out crying but somehow managed to hold on. My head was reeling. I looked down, knowing well everyone—especially the girls, especially Shirodkar—was staring at me.

Zende sir continued his ‘ear treatment’ for a while and then left without saying a word. No words escaped my lips for the rest of the function. I was feeling dead. I dared not look up while Phawdya and Surya continued their pranks. I felt crushed. It would have been far better if Sir had marched me out like Chawre.

It was well past one o’clock when the function got over. I sneaked away like a thief and took the road through the paddy fields. I had been holding back my tears, but they were now threatening to burst out. The fields stood silent in the afternoon while the sun burnt brightly. I sat on my rock resting my back against the tree. The tears flowed freely.

I knew it was finished. It had been my own doing. There was no way I could impress Shirodkar now. She would, in fact, be more impressed with Bibikar. I sat there sobbing like a baby for a long time.

O
n reaching home, I could hear a heated argument at the base of the staircase. Ponkshe kaka was arguing with Ashok and Vijay. Nikam kaka joined in.

‘Do you have any freedom during this Emergency?’ Ashok asked Ponkshe kaka.

‘What do you need freedom for?’ Ponkshe kaka hit out, scratching his back. ‘Aren’t the trains running on time? Is work not being done promptly? What else do you need?’

‘Is that enough?’ Vijay asked. ‘What about
your
rights?’

‘Are you not getting your rights?’ Nikam kaka said, in his hoarse voice. ‘Chaila, earlier no one would reach the Municipality office on time. Now they are all punctual. See how they come on time now!’

‘Rights are different, kaka,’ Ashok explained. ‘We don’t need to declare Emergency for employees to come on time. We can teach them discipline.’

‘Impossible! Just impossible,’ Nikam kaka repeated.

‘Mukund!’ Ambabai had come out looking for me.

I gestured at her to keep quiet. I was enjoying the discussion. Such arguments take place often and they are fun. Nikam kaka and others have heated arguments. Ponkshe kaka speaks in a low voice but somehow manages to provoke the other person. And ever since Emergency had been declared, such arguments had become more frequent. Besides, those guys upstairs keep having meetings very often. I wish I could attend them once.

I was hoping Ambabai would go back after calling out once, but she stood there waiting for me. Vijay looked at her once and continued, ‘During Emergency no one is allowed to express any opinion. Don’t you agree?’

‘No,’ Ponkshe kaka said. ‘Nothing has been hampered. Everything is running smoothly, better than ever before!’

‘There is no point in speaking to you,’ Ashok said.

They started climbing the stairs when they noticed me.

‘Mukund, are you not going to the library today?’ Ashok asked.

‘No.’

‘Mukund goes to the library, is it? Which one?’ Vijay asked.

‘Don’t you know? He goes to the Municipal library. It is a great place to ogle at girls.’

‘Come on! Don’t joke,’ I said weakly.

‘Hey, Mukund; tell me the truth,’ Ashok said, putting his arm around my shoulders. ‘Do you get to see some good chicks there?’

‘No,’ I said, brushing his hand away. I was blushing by now and turned to go back. They ruffled my hair and walked away laughing.

‘What were they saying?’ Ambabai asked, suspicious as usual. She stood with one hand blocking the doorway.

‘None of your business.’ I said, ducking below her hand to enter the house.

S
urya was itching to find Pendse and teach him a lesson. I reached our haunt the next morning to find him on the ground floor, waiting, as he stood behind a wall of bricks. Phawdya and Chitre were present while Surya was accompanied by Chandya, his cousin. Chandya was in our class until class eight but had had to repeat the year when he failed.

‘Chandya, point out Pendse to me when he comes, okay?’ Surya said.

A few girls passed by, but Surya was too preoccupied to tease them. In a while, Chandya spotted Pendse coming along with some boys. He went to him and then accompanied him to the building. He was a very fair, decent-looking fellow; a little on the heavier side. He became alert when he saw Surya and the gang blocking his way. Surya stood there like a hero, his fingers hooked into his belt.

‘I am told that you have an eye on Kevda. Is that true?’ Surya asked, walking towards him.

‘Kevda?’ Pendse was at a loss.

‘Tell me the truth. Do you have an eye on Gupte?’

He nervously shuffled his books from one hand to other and said, ‘No. I don’t have an eye on her. Not me.’

‘Tell me the truth, bhenchod,’ Surya growled grabbing his collar.

‘I mean it. I am telling the truth,’ Pendse pleaded.

‘Listen. I need to hear the truth, okay?’ Surya said, changing his tone all of a sudden and sounding friendly. ‘If you tell me the truth, I will let you go. But tell me honestly.’

Pendse relaxed a bit.

‘Tell him the truth. What are you waiting for?’ Phawdya cajoled him. ‘Are you feeling shy?’

‘Yes, I do fancy her. But nothing serious, you know,’ Pendse confessed.

Surya jammed his fist into Pendse’s stomach.

Pendse doubled up, clutching his stomach. The books flew out of his hand. He stood up but Surya hit him again.

‘Will you look at her again, bhenchod?’ he growled.

‘No, I won’t, I promise,’ Pendse said, sitting down and clutching his stomach. That spared him another blow.

‘Keep that in mind,’ Surya warned him. ‘If I see you even as much as stealing a glance at her, I’ll bury you at the same place, okay?’

‘Yes, yes. I understand,’ Pendse said, shivering.

‘And tell everyone in the class—Kevda’s mine. No one dare look at her.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Pendse said, getting up hurriedly. His eyes were watering and he was trembling with fear.

Chitre and I helped him gather his books. Surya stood there, his face red with anger. We grabbed our books and proceeded to school.

T
he classes started on time, but the previous day’s episode rankled in my mind. In the Marathi class, Ganoba the clerk came in to hand over a notice. Bibikar and Kevda had got a certificate of appreciation. Paranjpe ma’am clapped and we were forced to join. We clap whenever anyone in the class gets an award; even for someone like Bibikar! The awards are handed over much later in a prize-giving ceremony.

Surya and Phawdya were, as usual, in their elements. I missed Naru mama. I wanted to ask him many questions. Shirodkar never looks at me. She looks straight ahead in all classes, even during the drawing class. The birdies are busy all the time chirping away. They argue with the boys, but no one bothers much about them. But girls, in general, are idiots. They never look at you. How the hell do I then convey my thoughts to her? Perhaps we need to do what Surya does; proclaim your love openly. Write it on the school walls, maybe. But then I might as well be dead!

The first few classes are a real bore. And History tops it all! Pethkar ma’am keeps on droning in her monotone. I think she’s not interested in teaching at all. She has her notes ready and all she does is read out from them. We have a huge syllabus this year; the dominion of the French and English, the rise and fall of the British Empire, feudalism, colonialism, what not. The boys doze off during the class. It is difficult to concentrate when Pethkar ma’am is busy delivering her sermon. We have to be very alert in Bendre ma’am’s English class though; we cannot afford to be caught napping. But History is one subject where one is tempted to shut one’s mind. Today she was busy teaching the French revolution. Unfortunately she has no sense of humour. She does not scold or hit us. She just goes on teaching. She would look at you once if you tried to crack a joke and then continue speaking. There is no point in saying anything in her class. We are lucky that Manjrekar sir teaches us Geography and Social Science.