Shala (8 page)

The next class was that of Zende sir’s. He looked at me, but I avoided his gaze. I was afraid he might rake up yesterday’s episode, but luckily he focused on the subject at hand. There was a strange ache in my ears, though.

Getting bored in the evening, I decided to visit Chitre. He was, as usual, busy with some experiment in the verandah.

‘Come, let us go inside,’ I said. I like the inner room, which is always cool and cosy.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Daddy is busy having his drink and Aai is just back from office. They had a fight a little while back.’

Chitre tells us that this happens often. His daddy comes home from office and likes to enjoy a peg or two in the evening. We do not understand what exactly that means, but his mother does not like it and they end up having an argument. Chitre had once found the key to his father’s wooden cabinet and shown us the coloured bottles lined up inside; bottles of amber, green, brown and other colours. There was one in the shape of an eagle.

Chitre says after the argument his daddy shuts himself in the room and doesn’t open it for a long time. He is quite a gentleman actually and never shouts at us. In fact, he entertains us once in a while, playing some old vinyl records.

Chitre was referring to a book to make a magnet-powered car. The parts lay scattered around him. I could not spot his younger brother Raju. His mother was probably busy in the kitchen and I could hear their arguments out in the verandah.

‘Joshi, do you promise me not to tell anyone?’ Chitre asked, while tying the battery cells with a rubber band.

‘What about?’

‘Kevda had come visiting our house last evening.’

‘Don’t tell me!’

‘Yes. But don’t tell anyone; especially Surya.’

‘Why did she come?’

‘She came with her mother. They had some errand in this part of the town.’

‘Did you speak to her?’

‘But of course! I had no choice you see. She was sitting right there! She asked me whether I liked her speech.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said it was quite nice. I also told her that we clapped for her.’

‘Did you tell her that Surya pines for her?’

‘Of course not! Are you a chutiya? And promise me not to tell anyone. Surya will kill me if he finds out.’

‘Did she stay for long?’

‘Yes. Her aai is a chatterbox. They were here for quite some time.’

‘What all did you talk about?’

‘Nothing in particular. I don’t remember anything.’

‘Come on saale. Tell me!’

‘I swear on my mother! I don’t remember anything. Time just flew. We spoke of everything and nothing, actually!’

‘Saale
,
you like her, isn’t it?’

‘Come on!’ he said, trying to brush me off. But I knew that his voice lacked conviction. He avoided my eyes and I knew. I was about to probe him further when his mother came out and sat down to read the newspaper. The discussion remained incomplete and I left soon after.

I was jealous of Chitre. How I wished Shirodkar would come to my house someday? Chitre was a lucky bastard. Kevda had visited his house on her own accord.

I
then decided to make friends with Misal. One day when Desai was absent, I asked him to sit next to me. We can sit wherever we wish during Redkar sir’s class. I casually approached him saying, ‘Don’t you stay near Natyamandir?’

‘Yes, that’s right. But not near it,’ he clarified. ‘I stay near the road leading to the big stone well.’

‘Does anyone we know stay towards your house?’

‘No one from our class. Dhande stays that side, but much ahead; closer to the other village, in fact.’

‘Good. No girls living that side,’ I added, hoping he would talk about girls.

He was quiet for a while as he was busy copying some equation, which Redkar sir had written on the board.

‘Actually; Mande does live near my house and so does Shirodkar.’

I suddenly sensed the hollow in my stomach. Despite knowing for a fact, hearing him say so made me nervous. I had to tread carefully now.

‘No. I don’t think she stays there,’ I challenged him. ‘Does she not stay near Kanifnath temple?’

‘No. That’s in the other direction. She stays quite close to my house, in fact,’ he clarified.

I did not want to pursue the line of conversation further lest he smell a rat, and changed the topic.

‘I would like to see that old stone well. I am told it’s massive.’

‘Yes, that’s right. It is really a big one.’

The big stone well is one of the key attractions of our town. No one knows when it was built or who built it, but it has been around for ages. Earlier, everyone used to draw water from the well, but ever since the Municipality has laid water pipes, it has been out of use. It is rumoured the well never goes dry. I had seen it long back but did not tell Misal so.

‘Will you show me the well some day,’ I asked, ‘if I ever come that way?’

‘Yes, of course. There is nothing much to see, though. It is just a well.’

‘When shall we go?’ I asked, not allowing the opportunity to pass.

‘Any day you wish.’

I was eager to go the same day, but unfortunately he had tuition classes that day. We decided to meet the next day. I asked him for his address and he gave me the directions: ‘Come down Subhash Vidyalaya and turn left at the Dhekne Laundry’. Next to the laundry was Sumangal Store followed by a narrow lane where his house was.

I came home and gulped down my tea. Luckily Ambabai was not at home to ask unnecessary questions. I had carefully noted down the directions and had no difficulty in locating his house. It was the oldest part of our town. The houses had tiled, sloping roofs. There were many mango and coconut trees around. Despite the rains having ended some time back, the entire area was lush with big trees extending a cool shade.

Misal’s house was part of a chawl with five or six rows of houses. Each house had two rooms. There was a tiled area in front of every house with a small garden adjacent to it. A few children were playing outside Misal’s house. It was getting dark. When I got in I noticed his mother wiping the floor, her saree tucked into her waist.

‘Aai, this is Joshi, my class fellow,’ he said. ‘He wants to see the stone well.’

‘Then show him,’ she said, continuing to wipe the floor. ‘But have your tea first. And don’t come into the house now. Your feet will leave stains on the floor.’

‘We will have tea when we come back,’ I suggested, winking at Misal. ‘Let us see the well first.’

The well was really enormous. Its wall was more than three feet wide, with three places for drawing water. It was full of water, a little greenish black in colour. The shadow of the walls made the water look darker. It was scary to lie down on the edge and look down at the water. There were fish inside. ‘Are there turtles too?’ I asked. A few women were drawing water. The pulley made an eerie creaking sound, which echoed from the bottom of the well.

We hung around for a while. I was, quite obviously, not interested in the well itself. Misal took the road leading to his house when I suggested, ‘Why don’t we go for a stroll?’

We walked along the narrow lanes. There were a few independent houses hidden partially by trees. Misal continued to tell me some facts about the well, and about how some people performed animal sacrifice at it. I was least interested. I looked around the locality, but I couldn’t find what I was looking for. I knew that Shirodkar stayed in this part of the town. I wondered how I would react if she were to come and stand before us. As usual, the hollow in the pit of my stomach grew.

‘Are we not likely to come across that Mande or Binde or whoever stays somewhere in this part of the town?’ I asked casually.

‘No. She spends her evenings studying,’ he said. ‘She borrowed my notebook. She did not come to school today, you know?’

‘Does she speak to you?’

‘Yes, of course! We were together in the other school earlier. She bunks a lot and then borrows my notebooks.’

I had no knowledge of this arrangement. Boys like Misal do not reveal all this to the rest of us in class. So Misal does not speak to any girl in school but exchanges notebooks with Mande! Smart cookie!

‘Doesn’t Shirodkar borrow your notebooks?’ I asked, trying to sound casual.

‘No. I don’t know her well enough. She just smiles at me when she sees me. Besides, I don’t try to make friends with her. They are rich folks, you know.’

‘Does she not stay this side of the town?’

‘A little further up. They stay in a bungalow of sorts.’

‘Bungalow?’

‘Not their own. They have rented it.’

I continued to look at the sign boards of the bungalows we passed, hoping to see her father’s name. We passed by a two-storeyed bungalow. ‘Devgiri’, said the nameplate. A lady in a white saree stood there, hanging some clothes in the balcony. She looked at us. I got nervous. Perhaps it was her mother!

After some time, Misal stopped near a gate and, pointing towards the house, he said, ‘Shirodkar stays here.’

My heart was pounding. A brick wall, partially covered in green moss, surrounded the house. The gate at the entrance did not have a board proclaiming the name of the occupants. The house was not clearly visible from the gate, hidden partially by a tree. It was a two-storeyed house. There was a big garden with a cement stand for the tulsi plant in the middle. A yellow bulb burnt in the verandah with a window partially covered by a curtain. I could not see the door from the road.

Not wanting to sound too curious, I kept quiet. Two coconut trees stood adjacent to the gate intersecting each other at the top. It was a good landmark. One could see them from a distance.

‘She has two sisters and a younger brother,’ Misal said. ‘Her elder sister is in college. The younger brother Pintya plays with our neighbour’s son sometimes.’

I was relieved to know that she did not have an elder brother.

‘God knows where her father works.’

‘He is a hapisar.’ He meant officer. ‘Works for some big firm,’ he said. I wondered how this fellow knew so much, but I kept quiet. The road ended in a square flanked by Phadke Hospital on one side. There were a few shops, a Shrikrishna Bhawan hotel, a medicine shop and a huge tamarind tree. There was an open library around the tree, where a few old men sat reading newspapers. I observed the place carefully. Shirodkar’s house was clearly visible from the tamarind tree.

We turned left and reached Misal’s house. I was not keen on having tea, but I did not want to raise any suspicion, so I sat down. I was hopeful that Misal would share some more information about Shirodkar, but the idiot continued to blabber on about the well.

‘Which tuition class do you go to?’ I asked, changing the topic.

‘Saraf sir’s classes,’ he said. ‘He is from Subhash Vidyalaya. He does not have a formal tuition centre. He just teaches at home.’

‘Are there a lot of boys?’

‘About seven or eight of them. Nobody from our school. All of them are from Subhash Vidyalaya, except one from Tope.’

I decided to leave. Misal seemed to have enjoyed my visit and said, ‘Do come again.’

‘Come again. You can study with Sunil,’ his mother added.

‘Sure. I will,’ I said. I meant it—from the bottom of my heart.

S
aturday afternoons are usually reserved for Scouts’ practice. These days they have made Scouts and NCC compulsory for eighth standard and above. I was actually keen to join NCC, but I was unwell on the day the list was drawn up. Boys shorter than me are in NCC! But Chitre had his own views and volunteered on my behalf to enrol me in the Scouts’ list. He says Scouts is brain work while NCC is just brawn work where you are expected to simply follow rules.

He is right. We can hear the NCC practise when we play in the ground.
Parade! Agey badhenge agey badh; peeche mudenge, peeche mud
.
Parade, aisa karange. Parade, waisa karenge!
They are led by a pot-bellied Sergeant who shouts out such crazy orders. And the uniform they give never fits anyone. The boys looked like jokers when we saw them wearing their NCC dress for the first time. Earlier the cadets were given glucose biscuits in each session. Now they get a stipend to polish their boots and starch their clothes.

Most of the big girls are in NCC. They wear funny brown pants and a grey shirt. Surya says the dress suits the girls a lot, even though he would have preferred them a little tighter! Surya and Phawdya are, quite expectedly, in the NCC. They consider Scouts sissy. They say we look girlish in those funny caps and with the handkerchief tied around the neck. I love the red pompom that the NCC cadets sport on their berets. Most of the girls are in the Guides. They have a blue dress. The Scouts and Guides practise together in the grounds in the afternoon. Rajguru sir is in charge of the Scouts and Adhav ma’am looks after the Guides.

It’s fun to have these sessions in the grounds. Rajguru sir is sometimes joined in by Manjrekar sir. They are our favourites. Sometimes they invite people from outside to teach us things like tying different types of knots, signalling using the whistle, identifying insects, climbing trees, and other such activities. There is a book by Bedon Powell which Rajguru sir reads out to us. Then there are songs like ‘
Lord Bedon Powell, tere chele hum
’ and ‘
Ooncha sada rahega jhanda, ooncha sada rahega’
. We are divided into groups based on names of animals and birds. I am in the Eagle group. We have our own scout notebooks. Chitre got a few stickers with a picture of an eagle, which we have stuck on our notebooks.

The other day Adhav ma’am was absent and Manjrekar sir asked the girls, who otherwise march ten miles away from us, to join us. Manjrekar sir made us sit in mixed rows. He began with the usual recitation of the oath and our motto. Surya says the Scouts and Guides may be sissies, but he loves our motto—
‘Be Prepared!’
Always ready, he says, adding his usual ‘bhenchod’ for effect. He is eager to join us for the
khari kamai
when we are supposed to go to a few households and do some chores and earn our own money. But that is still quite some weeks away.

While we were reciting the oath, I managed to steal a glance at Shirodkar. She and I were sitting in the last row, meant for the team leaders. I was not aware that she too was a team leader. The playground was enveloped in warm, yellow sunshine. There was greenery all around and a cool breeze blew. We were wearing our usual blue cotton handkerchiefs around our neck while the girls had a pink silk scarf. Shirodkar sat there fiddling with it. Her hair blew in the soft breeze. She looked like a goddess.