Anyone Else But You... (27 page)

“That’s interesting, so what’s the catch?”

“There’s a lot of malpractices going on within the walls of DHS and it must be made available to the common public. Also, Dalvi’s death wasn’t suicide. Even if it was, people are being forced to take it at face value. A couple of days back, Dalvi had been assaulted by a teacher with strong political clouts. School refused to take action against him, that humiliation plus whatever he had sustained all throughout his stay drove Siddhant to a point of insanity. That’s what killed him, he jumping off from the roof was just the tip of the iceberg,” Rishav sounded exasperated at the end of it.

“I see, but clearly you are in the wrong beat. The crime beat might…” she began.

“No, no. I am in the right beat. It took me long to convince myself to trust you. I can’t do it all over again with someone else you see. I know how you can pull off this story without requiring any support from other beats.”

“You know? How?”

“Socialact Wave, a largely popular music event will be held day-after. You cover it under entertainment. Then you can write an article on how the school is ‘celebrating’ the death of a student.”

“It sounds interesting, though I am not sure if that’d be enough to make enough of a case against the school.”

“Listen to me, I have more really. I can give you details of how alcohol is being provided to inmates of the school hostel- And that too, under the full knowledge of the warden. I can also tell you about how the Principal is deliberately appearing to be unaware of the large scale hypocrisies in and around her. I can provide you with a lot of information, but you first write about how the school doesn’t care about its’ students, drag in the assault and subsequent suicide of Siddhant. Bring in the lies
of the management and the tightlipped stands that stink of double standards,” he could rant on and on.

“Okay, okay. Chill dude, what are you, some anti-DHS encyclopedia or something?” she asked.

“No, I am just one pissed off Head Boy, who can chuck his badge a million miles away and never ever think of it.”

“What the fish!” Runjhun exclaimed. “You are the Head Boy and you are ready to do all of this?”

“Yeah, I am. Anything for my friend; I will provide you with passes for Socialact Wave. Please, please make sure the story is hard hitting.”

“I can’t promise anything, you know, it all depends on what my Ed perceives of my story.”

“She’ll like it,” he replied confidently.

“You think so?” she asked.

“I know so,” came the reply. “I will get in touch with you day-after. Please do be there, one of those few occasions when you can stand up for a good cause. They don’t come everyday in your life.”

“I will, I will,” saying this
, Runjhun Sharma
hung up.

TWENTY-SEVEN

The early morning Delhi smog almost engulfed the Delhi High School campus as a lone figure walked past its entrance and was on to the concrete lane that led to the Boys Hostel in almost no time. Once he crossed the glaring eyes of the Hostel warden’s security guard, he broke into a sharp jog and moved towards the Hostel entrance.

The elderly caretaker, affectionately called
Bhau
or brother was doing his routine job of knocking on the doors of each and every student, asking them to wake up as it was time for them to go for their morning run.

It was Rishav’s second or third visit to the Boy’s Hostel but it was the first time he actually got to see the interiors of it. The size of the rooms gave him bouts of claustrophobia and the state of the bathing rooms made him nauseas.
And we complain about our homes?
He said to himself.

Bhau
quickly escorted him towards the Warden’s office.

“Are you sure, you won’t fall into any trouble?” Rishav asked the gingerly old man.

“No, no son, I am immune. They can’t dare to touch me even; I have support of the Union. But, then what about you? Are you also a part of the Student Union?” he asked as he moved in short but quick paced steps.

“Council
bhau
not Union and besides, I think I have stepped down, by my actions of course” Rishav replied with a hint of relief in his voice.

“Stepped down? Why?”

“Politics and dirt, it’s a long story. You know Siddhant Dalvi?” Rishav inquired.

“Yes, yes, Shekhar Dalvi’s son – I saw him being born. Saddened and grieved to hear of his death…”

“Death
nahi Bhau,
murder!” Rishav exclaimed.

“Murder? Are you kidding me?” the old man stroked his pepper-salt stubble.

“Yes, yes, murder. It’s a long story
Bhau
but what I need to do right now is enter the Warden’s office unnoticed.”

“Just a few more steps and you are there,”
Bhau
replied.

It was Diwali when Rishav had spotted the old man running around to get an errant done. Not used to coming to that part of the school, he had found it extremely difficult to get his job done. That’s when Rishav Sen, at his prime as the Head Boy helped him around by personally showing him around to the right people. “I owe you one,”
Bhau
had said to him. It was time Rishav came to seek the favour.

Rishav got to know from his hostel friends that a crate of
             
packed
Queenfisher
beer cans had made its way to the Hostel. Although at the sight of it, it seemed to be a direct slap on the face of the authorities, it was not to be. Each crate which had been ordered by some powerful names in the hostel had a commission of two hundred rupees attached to it. And the entire money was being pocketed by the Warden.

“Twenty five crates came in, last night…”
Bhau
said as he unlocked the door. “Look under the Warden’s cupboard,” he pointed.

Rishav couldn’t believe what he saw. After all the crap he had read about in the school’s prospectus, there was something as appalling as liquor being served to minors in the Hostel of a premier institution.

“What do you want to do now?” the old man asked.

“Expose these bastards,” Rishav replied.

“I would advise you against it though. You don’t want to get thrown out,” he said.

“I won’t, trust me. You have the receipts signed by the Warden?” Rishav asked.

“Why do you think the Warden would sign them?”

“Because that bastard would want his share of commission,” Rishav chuckled.

In the background, the sound of shuffling slippers could be heard. Students were already out of their rooms, making their way towards the mess for their morning glass of milk.

“You are correct, he does have receipts but I don’t want you to fall into trouble.”
Bhau
insisted.

“Okay, then you have to let me click photographs.”

Bhau
shook his head in stark disapproval of Rishav’s idea. But Rishav Sen continued to relent, till the man allowed him to take out his mobile phone and click some well defined snaps of the murk that existed right under Bindu Kalsi’s fat ass!

One for DNN-IGN, cheeeseee!
He said under his breath,
while
he clicked the ‘capture’ button.

THREE DAYS LATER

TWENTY-EIGHT

If one bothered to peep through the tinted glass panes of Mrs.Bindu Kalsi’s office at Delhi High School, it wouldn’t be too hard to predict the temperatures out there. The heat was definitely on and that too, on a cold December morning.