Shala (31 page)

I
walked back home slowly, thinking of the question I had asked. I realized that the world was a difficult place. It had its own rules; and one had to follow them if one had to live in it. The world was huge and I was too small to challenge it.

I sized up the situation with a cool head. I had to clear class ten first. I could then leave home and take up any job. Naru mama says if one is willing one can get any job. I could take up a job and then join night school to pass class twelve. I could then continue higher studies. Shirodkar would continue with her studies as usual. It was a question of five or six years, seven at the most. And no one can stop you once you are eighteen.

I could depend on people like KT and Vijay for help. I could take up a room or share it with some friend. I remembered my kaka’s son Prakash had done something similar. He did not frequent our house much, but we had heard of his leaving home. He was not keen on studies and wanted to pursue theatre. When his family objected, he left home and took up residence in a small room in Byculla. He was apparently doing fine now. He had once sent us a few passes for his play. I too would have to take the same route. There was no choice.

I
enquired about night school next. It was in Vakhar lane. The board said, Adarsh Night School. A yellow lamp burnt brightly. The office was in the verandah and a fat man sporting a huge moustache sat behind a desk. The board indicated he was the principal. He was probably responsible for everything. I did not see anyone else there.The wall behind the desk was adorned with photographs of national leaders.

I stood before him when he looked up from the papers he seemed to be studying.

‘I wanted to enquire regarding the night school,’ I said. ‘I have a cousin who is coming over from the village. I am enquiring on his behalf.’

‘What is your name?’

I told him.

‘Which school?’

‘Warhadkar High School.’

‘Which class?’

‘Ninth.’

‘Where do you stay?’

‘Near Dhaparewadi. Kudalkar chawl.’

‘Achha. Near Majgaonkar dispensary, is it?’

‘Yes,’ I said, a little surprised. He seemed to know every lane in town.

‘Who wants to attend night school?’

‘My cousin from the village.’

‘Then get him here,’ he said, getting back to his papers.

‘He is not here at the moment.’

‘Get him when he comes,’ he said. ‘Now you may go.’

‘Do you have eleventh science here?’ I persisted.

He did not answer but pointed to a board in the room. It said in bold letters—Arts and Commerce only. There were other instructions like the school starting at seven pm and attendance being compulsory, prior permission needed for taking leave etcetera. I stood there reading the board for a few minutes and then left.

There were no Science classes here and it was unlikely this moustachioed fellow would take me even if I opted for Commerce. There was only one night school in town. But then if I went over to Mumbai, there would be many options. I would cross the bridge when I came to it. I decided that for now I needed to focus on passing class ten.

T
he year was coming to an end and most of the syllabus was over. Bendre ma’am had, in fact, started revising the chapters. More importantly, Halbe sir had completed his Geometry and Algebra portion. A few experiments in Physics remained, but they were easy. The matriculation exams would begin from twelfth of March, but luckily our school was not an examination centre. Subhash and Tope are designated centres each year and they have to suspend classes during that time.

The tenth standard guys were not attending school these days. The school seemed a little empty without them. There was a palpable tension across town. It happens each year during the exam time. There is invariably someone or the other appearing for the exam known to each person and the only discussion in town is centred around exams. There is no disturbance during that period. The theatres don’t dare put up a good movie during that time. The atmosphere in school is ominous.

Surya’s building was near completion now. They had painted the inside walls and were now painting the exterior. A brick wall had come up around the building. The building looked bright and shiny, but it was no fun sitting there now. The earlier damp, cool and dark atmosphere was long gone. The labourer couple had moved away and the shack was occupied by a watchman, presumably from the same group. The ground floor was likely to be occupied soon and the plumber was busy fitting the taps.

Surya’s father had not asked us to move out yet. In fact, Surya mentioned once that his father had designated two rooms on the second floor for us, so that we may use them for our studies in tenth standard. It was a good idea. But we had to clear ninth first! There was no point in joint studies as Phawdya and Surya would while away their time, not allowing anyone to study. This place was good to hang out—as we had for a whole year—but not for studies.

The tuition classes too were likely to end soon. Everyone winds up their activities once the matriculation examination begins. I wondered where I would meet Shirodkar after this. In class ten in the coming year, we would be swamped with tuition classes in all our free time. In fact, some of the classes start in the summer holidays itself! I was not against classes now. I did not mind joining tuitions next year. Ambabai had made it clear that I should not continue with Deshmane sir ’s classes next year. Someone had suggested Chaitanya classes. But I had decided—I would join the same class as Shirodkars. And if Chaitanya was good, I would ask her to join the same. That’s it! Then I could spend the whole day at tuition centres; even whole nights, if required.

There was a discussion on which teacher would teach what subject next year. We had no favourites other than Zende sir. Bendre would continue with English and we wondered whether Halbe sir or Kendalkar sir would teach Maths. We would be dead if it were to be the latter. Pethkar ma’am would continue with Social Science while Chemistry would be taught by the boring and oversmart Prem Chopra. We had heard that Appa would take Hindi. So we could forget about fun in that period. Phawdya did not mind Paranjpe ma’am teaching us Marathi so long as she continued wearing sleeveless blouses. All of us agreed with him. Any teacher was fine so long as she wore sleeveless! Surya thought it was a nice way to begin the day.

The paddy fields were barren and dry now. The grass had been grazed upon by the cows and they too were nowhere to be seen. There was a bit of enthusiasm while the England team played, but now, with the exams looming, the children playing cricket too had vanished. The only greenery left was in the adjoining woods.

But then soon Shankar’s father would come over in the summer holidays to start tilling the fields. He would collect the dry twigs and leaves and burn them in one corner of the field. The planting would start in the rainy season. The fields would be full of rain water then. It was a sight to behold. The smell of ice-candy and the cool breeze were intoxicating. If there was heaven on earth, it was here, it was here, it was here! I needed to get Shirodkar here next year, even if it means bunking school. My favourite rock had a big flat space enough for both of us to sit on. We could sit there the whole day without getting bored.

The playground too would be green and beautiful. I would try and grab a seat near the door. But I was not sure of the classroom being allotted to us. Currently tenth standard was in a good room at the corner of the school building, and with a great view. One could see the woods from there. We would be dead if we were to be allotted the other room inside. It is behind the iron railing. The passage is busy with someone or the other constantly walking by. I wished we would get a room facing the playground. I would spend time watching the lovely hills beyond Sonarpada outside and the beautiful Shirodkar inside! Whether I was taught Maths or Physics would be irrelevant. I would not be worried about either. The school could go on forever.

T
hat day Nikam kaka bought a television. We were aware of its impending arrival because we had seen the antenna being installed the previous day. It was a black-and-white TV and everyone gathered to see the evening news. Nikam kaka has a lot of furniture in his room, but people managed to fit in. Ponkshe kaka and Sukhtankar kaka grabbed the two chairs while Shenvi and Barve kaka occupied the cot. The children sat right in the front along with Upasni aaji. KT and Vijay stood outside the door but came in when the news began. I could see the TV sitting on the edge of the sofa. Nikam kaka stood with his back to the wall while kaku watched it standing near the inner door. She was able to hear the news but not see it.

We watched the news followed by announcements for the next day’s programmes. There was a lot of static disturbance along with the black horizontal lines constantly running by the screen. But the sound quality was good. Chayageet was the next programme. By then the Mayekar couple, Aai-Baba, Ambabai, and many of the other residents had joined in. Nikam kaka had to slide the window curtain, allowing the people standing outside to get a glimpse. Mayekar kaka asked me to keep my head low and I developed a crick in my neck as a result.

As expected, there were no games that evening. The Nikams were carrom lovers, but they did not bring out the board from that day onwards. Kiran got addicted to the television. The crowds continued to gather each evening. There was a musical programme on Saturday while Sunday evenings was movie time. No one was interested in playing games any more.

Baba went in the first day. Nikam kaka welcomed him with ‘Come in, come in, Joshisaheb!’ Baba was not interested in watching TV, but he must have gone not finding any partners for chess. Sukhtankar kaka joined in for chess one day but left the moment he heard the ‘Dinu chhi sasubai’ serial being aired. ‘Joshi sahib, please excuse me,’ he said, getting up hurriedly. ‘I am willing to concede this board, but I cannot afford to miss my favourite serial.’

Baba had no choice. He wound up the game. ‘Chess is over!’ he said, resigning himself to the change.

W
e had a general idea of the tentative dates for our exams. It became clear when the timetable was put up on the notice board. It was good that they had not been postponed as they would have clashed with Naru mama’s wedding. The exams were to start on the second of April and would get over on the tenth. The wedding was on the nineteenth. Results would be announced on twenty-eighth, two days earlier than usual. Pethkar ma’am said this had been done to allow students to start their tuition classes in time.

Surya’s way of mugging up things was to hold the notebook in his hand and pace the room reading out loudly. Chitre had told him it would not do, but he would not listen. It was impossible to study in that situation. We did not need him for our studies. Chitre was, as always, upto date with his preparation. He could write the exams any day. He used to come there as he did not want to stay back at home alone. Devaki continued her flirtation much to his dislike. Chitre said that she had tried the same trick once again. She would also drop her pallu whenever she got a chance.

Phawdya had no respite from the vegetable business. He had to sort the vegetables in the morning and then sit at the shop in the evening. He wanted to come over the building at nine in the morning but could reach only at quarter to twelve, running all the way. He was desperate to study and pass the exams because his mother had warned him that she would pull him out of the school if he failed.

There was still a week or ten days to go for the tuition classes to get over, but Deshmane sir had started winding up his portions. He gave us a sample test which we had to attempt at home. We were out of the class in no time.

We had enough time. It was still bright outside and no one was in a hurry to go home. The boys and girls stood there talking. I looked at Shirodkar and her eyes told me that we had enough time to chat. I was not going to let such an opportunity go by. Pingle deliberately asked me in a loud voice whether I was visiting Misal. Juvekar laughed at his comment, but I ignored him.

I went and stood under the peepal tree. It was bright and the place looked clean and dry. The lane was desolate as usual. A few leaves fell down from the tree intermittently. I then remembered that the peepal leaf formed a lovely design once dried in between the pages of a book. For a moment, I thought of picking up two leaves; one for me and the other for her. It would be a memento for both of us. But I brushed away the thought. The peepal tree was going to be here forever and the leaves would continue to fall in heaps.

She came in after ten minutes. She must have managed to escape from her friends, but it seemed that she had been teased by them. She came in smiling to herself.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Nothing,’ she said.

‘That Juvekar must not be letting you go,’ I said.

‘That’s right. In fact, we had decided to study together till the exams.’

‘When are their exams?’

‘At the same time as ours,’ she said.

‘Why doesn’t Mande come these days?’

‘She has to help her mother in the kitchen.’

‘We are going to start studying in the building.’

‘That adda of yours? Chhi! You guys just sit there and rag the passers-by. What studies can you do there?
You
don’t go there.’

I kept quiet. The fact that we assembled there was known to everyone now. And our pranks were considered ragging now. There was no point in discussing that.

‘The classes will end soon,’ I said.

‘Yes. On twentieth.’

‘What next?’

‘Next?’ she asked.

I was not sure whether she had understood what I meant or whether she was just acting innocent. My heart was beating louder.

‘Then where shall we meet?’ I asked.

‘Why do we need to meet?’ she asked, laughing.

‘I enquired regarding night school,’ I said, changing the topic.

‘Night school?’

I realized she would not know the context. She was not aware of my plan.

‘I have decided to join night school if I take up a job after class ten. My kaka’s son Prakash did the same.’