Like It Happened Yesterday (9 page)

I knew boys got hard when they experienced erotic feelings. I too had experienced such feelings quite a few times before. But, that day, it was strangely different. I wanted to help myself but didn’t know how to deal with the situation. In some sort of nervousness, I slipped my hand into my shorts. It seemed natural for me to do so.

Right then, I felt I was going to pee. I tried to control it and run to the bathroom. But my body didn’t allow me any time! Before I could even get up from my bed, I felt my body had flushed out something. I pulled out my hand. It wasn’t wet. It was sticky. I could not understand what that was.

A sense of horror took over me.

What has happened to me?
Worried, I had started talking to myself.

I unzipped my shorts to see what had happened to me. I had absolutely no idea of what that semi-liquid substance that had spilled into my clothes might be.

‘Oh God!’

Unable to make any sense of it, a flood of thoughts crossed my mind. I believed it was a bad disease. I believed
that God had punished me for reading that dreadful magazine. I knew I was in deep trouble.

I panicked.

I ran to the bathroom and cleaned myself. All this while, my heart was begging for forgiveness from God. ‘I won’t read it again. Please! Please, God!’

It was a silent, one-sided conversation. I wondered if I should tell Mom about this. But then I wondered how I would explain it to her.

Right then there was a knock on the door.

I was terrified beyond measure now. I had to be quick! But quick with what—was the question. I looked at myself in the mirror. My hands shivered as I tried to clean my shorts. In my state of panic, I could not clean it properly and threw it in the lot of laundry clothes. I came out of the bathroom and ran to open the door. At the last moment, I noticed the magazine on the bed. I changed course and ran again to hide it inside my bag.

There was another knock on the door.

‘Oh God!’

By the time I opened the door, I was breathless.

‘Why did you shut the door?’

It was my mother.

‘Oh … ummm … hmm … just like that.’

‘Aa, le, parshaad le le.’ She offered me the prasad, the offerings from the gurdwara.

Because of what I was involved in till a few minutes ago,
taking the prasad with my hands didn’t seem like a nice idea to me. So I refused.

‘I will have it a little later.’

‘Tera sir theek ho gaya?’ she asked about my headache, on her way to the TV room.

‘Not yet,’ I told her, and went back to my bed.

I covered myself with the blanket. All this while, I was worried about my health. I had decided to secretly consult a doctor the next day. To overcome my embarrassment of describing the situation to the doctor, I thought of taking Sushil along with me. After all, it was his magazine that had cast a curse over me.

I didn’t have a comfortable sleep that night. I was deeply disturbed—firstly because of the experience itself, but, secondly, because I could not share it with anyone in my family. I did not even dare to urinate before I went to sleep that night! I was afraid that I would again pass the mysterious fluid that I had a few hours back. Time and again, I would wake up with a start and recall the fearful event of the evening.

Fortunately enough, till the time the sun came up, I didn’t experience anything more unusual. My morning stint in the bathroom also went fine. After holding it in for a good twelve hours, I had finally peed—and a lot of it! By the time I reached school, I felt I was out of danger. And interestingly, after having a chat with Sushil, I came to know that I didn’t need him to take me to a doctor. Sushil himself turned out to be my much-needed doctor!

That day, I realized that you don’t always learn the important lessons of life in the company of decent friends. Some key lessons of life are learnt in the company of notorious friends like Sushil.

Sushil started with making me comfortable. His statement that ‘I too had experienced the same’ calmed me down. He explained to me that what I had experienced was one of the signs of a boy reaching puberty. I also learnt that girls of our age experienced a similar shock when they witnessed the blood during their first menstrual cycle. I had been quite unaware of all these scary signs of puberty. After half an hour’s chat, I was happy to find out that I was normal. Moreover, I became confident that I had stepped into adulthood. Slowly, a hesitant pride made its way within me.

Sushil surprised me with his wisdom on this subject. Apart from his ‘gyaan’ he had another surprise for me. He gave it to me after the last class of the day.

It was another magazine.

It was the middle of the afternoon and the class was in a happy mood. The third period had just got over and we knew that English Sir, who was supposed to take the next period, was absent that day. As soon as the bell rang, Amit, who was the monitor in charge of the class, flung into action and ran towards the staff room.

We wanted him to ensure that the English period was declared as the Games period. Given the fact that the fourth period was followed by a forty-minute recess, it would have been a prolonged period of fun for all of us.

Transforming an educational period into a recreational period is an art. It doesn’t just happen. It needs a context setting, followed by a problem statement, followed by probable solutions, followed by creating an opportunity
wherein the most desired solution for students fits in well with the teacher as well. Of course, it is a step-by-step process.

But Amit was technically challenged in understanding and implementing this vital process. That duffer ended up asking our class teacher in a room full of other teachers, ‘Ma’am, shall we go for Games—as English Sir is absent? Yesterday, when History Sir was absent, we had gone for Games!’

The class teacher denied permission right away and appointed another teacher to attend to our class. Gurpreet, who was the girls’ monitor for the class and had accompanied Amit to the staff room, updated us on Amit’s stupidity.

‘Why did you tell her that we got a Games period only yesterday, when History Sir was absent?’ someone from the back shouted at our monitor.

Someone else hurled another accusation at Amit, and that successfully set up a chain reaction of allegations. One by one, everyone in the class joined in on yelling at Amit. In schools, students always seem to gang up against one. We had mastered the art of beating up a dead horse.

‘When will this month end—so that we can get a change from this dumb monitor!’ someone from the girls’ end shouted.

‘On the thirtieth!’ someone else responded. Everybody laughed.

There was utter chaos in the classroom, which lasted for
the next ten minutes. Then, all of a sudden, there was silence. It was because of the arrival of a teacher who we knew taught English in the primary section of our school.

I had always found her to be very attractive and had secretly followed her a couple of times around the school campus. I used to stop and admire her whenever she would pass me by. She wasn’t the most beautiful teacher in the school; I knew that Bio Ma’am was considered far more beautiful than her. But, for me, there was something about her that attracted me to her more than to Bio Ma’am. I never figured out what that attraction was. I didn’t even know her name.

It was a beautiful feeling to see her step into our class. Her presence brought a smile to my lips and left my eyes twinkling with pleasure. I now wanted to hug Amit for his idiocy.

She was tall and her sari made her look graceful. However, not everyone was as excited to see her.

‘Good afternoon, Ma’am!’ the students greeted her half-heartedly.

She replied with a wholehearted ‘Gooood afternoooooooon, students!’ carried over from her way of teaching the primary classes.

That was the first time I heard her voice. I loved that as well!

She took her seat and the class settled in. My eyes were glued to her. It was my opportunity to watch her for a long
time—something I never got to do earlier. She had wheatish skin. Her hair was tied into a ponytail that ran down her back just like a horse’s tail. She was slim, which was another reason why she looked so tall. She was taller than me; I guess by a foot. She didn’t wear a lot of accessories—just a wristwatch and a sleek chain around her neck. In all aspects, she was simple yet elegant, and a little more attractive than average.

‘I will be taking today’s class on behalf of your English Sir!’ she announced.

In my heart, I wished for Sir to be absent for the rest of the week!

She asked us to open our books. Then she got up from her chair, readjusted her sari and tucked the end of it into her waist. That gave me a glimpse of her slender waist.

How I wanted to move to the first bench now!

She held the book nicely in one hand and played with the piece of chalk with her other hand. Her soft voice was a treat to my ears. She slipped into the gap in front of the blackboard. I followed her movements as well as her words.

She started teaching nouns. After setting up the context, she went on to explain the same on the board. She wrote down the heading ‘Noun’, and drew several branches from it, in order to explain the various types of nouns.

Just then, the power went off.
Damn!
Everyone sighed. Firstly, they had not been able to play, and now this! However, power cuts were usual in the area of our school.
The moment the summer temperatures soared, this started happening. The rotating fans in the classroom came to rest and so did their noise.

Ma’am continued to write on the board and the lesson continued. While the rest of the class was watching the decelerating fans in dismay, my eyes were stuck on her. I was busy fulfilling my desire to look at her body—every bit of it. I enjoyed observing her body language—every move of hers. She had an amazing back. Time and again, as she moved towards the blackboard, her hair bounced on her back, seductively hiding one part of her back while revealing another. I wanted to smell the hair that played this game of hide-and-seek with her back. I liked the way she turned towards us each time after writing down another form of the noun on the board. I enjoyed the way she tossed the piece of chalk and played with it in her hand. Every time she did that, her wristwatch slipped up and down her arm.

My brain didn’t register anything she taught. I simply copied down what she wrote on the blackboard in my notebook. There were various forms of the noun, not a single one of which registered in my mind.

One moment, she accelerated my heartbeat when she walked down the aisle where I sat. I felt I wasn’t prepared for this moment! One half of my mind didn’t want to lose the opportunity to look at her from up close, and the other half felt too shy to do so.

A thousand butterflies flitted around inside my stomach,
the moment she stopped right beside me.
Oh boy!
—I was able to smell her now. The perfume she was wearing struck down the shy half of my mind, which was too embarrassed to look at her. So I stared at her. I breathed in that fragrance, imagining how those vapours would have originated from her body and touched her smooth skin. The butterflies in my stomach now seductively flapped their tiny wings. I guess they wanted to break free. I turned my head to gaze fully at her.

From that side, I saw her flat stomach behind the drape of her sari, something that wasn’t visible from the front. My eyes joyfully scanned her waist. Her skin looked soft. Tiny sweat drops were forming under the border of her blouse and slipping down to her waist. I wanted to touch her—right there. I wanted to closely smell that sweat infused with the fragrance of her body.

At one instance, when she had changed the support of her body from one leg to another, I secretly noticed her belly button, an inch above where she had tucked in her sari. There was no point in peeling my eyes away. I wanted to put my finger in her belly button and feel the moisture in it. There was so much for me to savour in the moment. Her presence next to me was taking away my breath. She had hypnotized me, without any intention to do so. My body was just physically present in the class. My mind was quite obviously elsewhere. It was busy imagining all sorts of thrills. I couldn’t listen to anything either. I saw whatever I
imagined. My sense organs had gone on an overload. They only came back to the real world when Sushil, who still sat next to me, pulled at my arm.

‘Abey, answer her?’

‘Huh! What!’ I was, all of a sudden, brought back to reality.

I looked back at Sushil and raised my eyebrows, wondering what had happened.

The class laughed. I failed to understand why. I thought of joining in with their laugh, but soon I guessed that maybe
I
was the subject of their laughter.

‘She asked you a question?’ Sushil said politely, and continued to smile.

I looked ahead of me. The teacher was looking right into my eyes! And it was not the look I was longing for! A mocking smile played at the corner of her lips.

A thought crossed my mind—had she found out what was going on in my mind? Had she come to know of my thoughts … about her? It was a scary thought. Scared and embarrassed, I looked around.

The mass laughter came to a stop.

‘Will you answer the question?’ the lady, whose belly button I wanted to touch, asked me again.

‘Bb … bb … yes, Ma’am,’ I blabbered and stood up with a completely blank mind and sweaty palms.

Everyone waited, probably wondering what I was about to say.

I had never wanted this to happen; not with the only teacher who was so special to me. How could I stand being humiliated in front of her, and, more importantly, by her?

I looked at Sushil and gestured with my chin, asking him to reveal the question. He whispered something that didn’t make any sense to me.

So I gathered my guts and managed to ask the teacher, ‘Aaa … Ma’am, what was the question?’

Another round of laughter followed my question. Ma’am too started laughing—her tinkling laughter revealing her pearly white teeth. I, too, smiled in response.

She didn’t answer my question. Instead, she asked, ‘What’s your name?’

‘Ma’am, Ravinder Singh.’ I adjusted the knot of my tie with style as I introduced myself to my favourite teacher.

‘So, Ravinder, where was your mind while I was teaching?’ She killed the smile halfway on my face.

How could I tell her where my mind was—and who was in my mind, and what all I had been thinking about her?

‘Aa … no … no … nothing … aa … nothing as such, Ma’am!’ I had nothing to say and everything to hide.

She kept looking at me. I fixed my gaze on my table, embarrassed. A few of my classmates kept smiling at my condition.

‘Sit down!’ she said.

‘Ma’am?’ I wanted to verify if she really meant that.

‘I said, “Sit down,” Ravinder, and be attentive in class!’ she advised sternly.

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

I sat down immediately, and then stood up the next moment to say, ‘Sorry, Ma’am,’ and sat down again. The class again broke into a final round of laughter.

Ma’am proceeded with the explanation of a few more forms of the noun. I looked at Sushil. He grabbed this opportunity to make fun of me.

‘Beta, sab pata hai mujhe tera dhyaan kahaan tha!’ [I know exactly where your attention was!] he said, smugly.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Abey, ghoor ghoor ke dekh raha tha Ma’am ko.’ He had noticed me staring at the teacher.

‘Aisa kuch nahi hai,’ I rejected his insinuation and turned my eyes to the book.

‘Oh really!’ he mocked me.

I didn’t answer.

‘So it means you don’t like her?’

‘Chup kar ja bhai, padh lene de,’ I asked him to not disturb me and let me study. I had to play it safe. I ignored any further conversation with him.

In a little while, the teacher rubbed off the entire blackboard and went ahead to write down examples of each form of the noun. I heard a murmur behind me. Ideally, I would have wanted to be a part of it, but after whatever had happened, I didn’t want to indulge in anything that she wouldn’t like. So I didn’t pay heed to the talks in the back bench. I concentrated on taking notes of the examples. I wanted to redeem myself
in Ma’am’s eyes. I decided not to let go of any opportunity to answer any of her questions; or, if not that, then to ask an intelligent one myself. Maybe that would undo the negative impression she had formed of me in her mind, I thought.

I could feel the whispers behind my back move from one bench to the other. As yet they were limited to the boys’ side of the class. I looked back and saw a few anxious faces. I wondered what they were up to.

I was busy taking notes, when Sushil interrupted me by asking if I was not having fun. ‘Abey, tu mazey nahi le raha?’

‘What?’

‘Look at her now,’ he said, and pointed with his chin towards the teacher, who was still writing on the board.

At first, I failed to understand what Sushil was pointing at, but it didn’t take me long to realize.

It had been long since the fans had been turned off and the heat of the summer afternoon had further raised the room temperature. The sweat on Ma’am’s body had made her white blouse translucent, revealing the bra that she wore inside. And that was the subject of discussion among the boys of the class.

I felt terrible. I looked around myself and found everyone staring at her back. Somehow this didn’t feel right. I felt uncomfortable. It made me let go of my attention on what she had been teaching. I wanted to stop them all from taking her in like that.

I felt as if there was an undefined relationship between her
and me; and that I should do something to protect her from all this. But I couldn’t think of doing anything. I only prayed for the power supply to return soon; and if not that, then for the bell to ring soon; and if not that, then for Ma’am to turn towards us and hold the same position for the rest of the class.

‘Look at that sexy pink thing inside her blouse!’ Sushil whispered, with obvious lust.

‘Shut up!’ I whispered angrily, as I couldn’t hold back my temper.

The smile on his face evaporated as soon as he saw that I was serious about what I had said. I guess he hadn’t expected that reaction from me.

‘Don’t say anything like that about her,’ I warned him.

He gave me a blank look and then turned around to update our common friends: ‘Sardaar paagal ho gaya hai!’ [This guy has gone mad] and narrated my reaction to them.

The teacher caught our side-conversations, turned back and asked, ‘Any problem there?’

No one said anything. She waited, and then resumed writing on the board. My friends behind my bench joined Sushil in laughing at me. They became wilder and started talking cheaply about her.