Shala (21 page)

That said, it was foolish to stand there in those desolate lanes. I wonder why those stupid girls and boys never realized it. Naru mama would have said the same. Anyone passing by, especially a regular, was bound to notice. You need to change places every day. That’s why it was important to search for a proper place to meet.

I
visited Chitre the following Sunday on the pretext of exchanging some notebooks, and then spent time roaming the lanes and bylanes around his place. There were quite a few desolate ones, but none that appealed to me. The one behind the Parasnis Dispensary seemed appropriate, but unfortunately there was a cobbler sitting under a tree who would keep staring at me. The lane next to the Tilak statue too was lonely, but there was an open drain on one side and a lot of garbage dumped along the lane. The lane next to Faiyyaz garage was fine, but there was a row of trucks parked back to back. I did not venture beyond that lane as the area was quite isolated. There was a danger of the rowdies from Akurli troubling us.

I realized my search for quiet lanes was proving futile. I then went in search of crowded places. The station area was fine, but there was a constant din of vegetable vendors there and cows roamed around freely the whole day. As was the case with Om Market, which has embroidery and tailoring shops and a constant stream of women going in and out. The lanes are narrow and any passer-by will have to brush against you to move ahead. And one has to stand there all the time. There is no place to sit. The only place to sit is in the park near our house, but Phawdya says only the chalu couples visit that place and one has to tip the watchman there. Who wants to have such transactions? The cemented platform behind Sawarkar statue was spacious and the shops there were closed in the afternoon. One could sit there without being seen, but only in the afternoon. I was not keen to sit in such a place. Even if you sat with your sister, people would think otherwise.

It suddenly dawned on me that the Ganesh temple was a good place to meet. It was the only temple in the town and was quite spacious. The main hall had a big chandelier and the floor tiles were smooth and cool. There was a peepal tree with a cement platform all around it. The other small temples around the main one were those of Maruti, Devi and Vitthal. The temple was busy and yet strangely quiet. You could see young children playing hide and seek there. The best part of the temple was the fact that one could stand there and talk to anyone without anyone raising an eyebrow.

I wondered how to convey this idea to Shirodkar. There was no question of standing below the peepal tree waiting for her. Similarly, speaking to her in school was ruled out. The boys would suspect me if I so much as glanced in her direction. The only option was to speak to her when the tuition classes got over. But there was the problem of Mande and the other girl accompanying her. I would be dead meat if I were to speak to her in their presence. Mande would tell the whole school the very next day. It was probably okay if Juvekar came to know of it. She was her best friend in any case.

It then dawned on me—the main reason behind people sending letters. There is some danger in putting things in writing, but at least the contents are not revealed to anyone except the person who reads it. One can convey one’s thoughts, otherwise difficult to articulate, through letters. No wonder girls and boys exchange letters. Naru mama may have a different opinion, but I didn’t have much choice. I would ask her to destroy the letter after reading it. There would be no danger of any evidence then.

The next day was Saturday. There was school in the morning and Scouts in the evening. I went home and hurriedly finished my tea and toast. I tore off half a page from my notebook and wrote a line, changing my handwriting a bit. The line was simple: ‘Will you meet me at the Ganesh temple tomorrow morning at ten?’ No one would identify my handwriting. I further added that the letter had to be destroyed after reading.

I attended the tuition class as usual.

Pingle asked me whether I would accompany him on the way back home, but I said, ‘I have to return a book to Misal. Do you want to come along?’

I knew he would refuse because he got bored of our talk. Shirodkar, as usual, left with her two friends. I followed them. Mande turned to enter Dedhiya Kirana, much to my relief. It would have been difficult had she continued to walk along. Juvekar and Shirodkar turned towards Juvekar’s lane. I knew they would chat there for a while. I was right.

They stood chatting when I slowly walked towards them. I managed to say, ‘I got the grammar book you had asked for.’

She was lost for a moment. They both looked askance at me and Juvekar seemed a little suspicious. Shirodkar did not understand my ploy but accepted the book, and I left immediately.

I
was fine until I reached home. And then my heart began to pound miserably. There was some time for dinner and, lest Ambabai start talking, I quickly went over to the corner table and opened my Maths book. But I could not concentrate on the book at hand. I had managed to perform the daring task but wondered whether it would yield the desired result. Would Shirodkar understand my ploy? Would she open the book and read my note? The fact that I gave it to her was cue enough. She was sure to find it.

There was a possibility that Juvekar, in her excitement to take a look, might open it and find the note. It was a risk I had to take. At the most, she would come to know of our affair. So what? She might tease Shirodkar—big deal! She might, in all probability, even help her. That would be great! I just hoped the book was not discovered at home. Her younger sister could borrow the book to clear her doubts in grammar. That would be disastrous!

I had asked her to destroy my note. But what if it was discovered before she could destroy it? Imagine her elder sister or mother or her father seeing the note! Luckily, I had not written my name in it, but then she would be forced to tell my name, if asked. Imagine if her father were to land at the temple instead of her! Or, what if she read the note but decided not to visit the temple? Or her mother gave her some errand to run just as she stepped out to meet me?

I could not sleep that night. A strange fear enveloped me. But I had a lovely dream—Shirodkar had come to meet me; I took her for a ride on my cycle and reached the temple meandering through the lanes and bylanes. Everyone stood waiting for us there—Surya, Phawdya, Chitre, Sukdi, all the boys and girls, all the teachers, Appa, Aaisaheb, Ambabai, Juvekar and Pingle. The old lady from Devgiri bungalow too was present. We were welcomed with a round of applause. Surya garlanded us. We were nervous and did not know how to react.

N
ext morning I got up and prepared to leave. But I couldn’t decide which shirt to wear. My favourite almond-coloured shirt—my lucky shirt—was unwashed. The grey T-shirt was a little crumpled. I had never been in such a quandary. There was a new shirt which we had got for Diwali, but it was meant for special occasions like weddings. Ambabai would get suspicious if she were to see me wearing a new shirt for a casual visit to a friend’s house. I finally wore the grey T-shirt, ironing out its creases with my hand.

I reached the temple at quarter to ten. It was a Sunday, so there was quite a crowd. People here visit the temple as a place to go to and not just for worship. All kinds of people come there—young, old, even college-going people like Ambabai. I saw some of the college girls praying earnestly as they made the ritualistic pradakshina around the temple. Our gang is never seen anywhere near the temple; hence this was the most suitable meeting place for me.

Finishing my darshan, I sat outside on the parapet near the Vithoba idol. I don’t like to ask for favours while praying. I remember Aaisaheb bringing me here before the results of the seventh standard scholarship exam were to be announced. She had asked me to recite ‘
pramanya shirasa devam
’ and had made me take a vow that I would offer a tray of twenty-one modaks if I were to get the scholarship.

I had tried my best to stifle my laughter then. I’m sure Ganapati too would have wanted to laugh. Why would he fall for such bribes? He would know Aaisaheb would not make the steamed modaks but somehow dish up fried ones made from wheat flour and dry coconut. I was not keen on appearing for the exam, but Ambabai was insistent and I did not want to argue. Bibikar was the only person from our class to get the scholarship. He goes to the school office every two or three months and, after getting a princely sum of twenty or thirty rupees, goes around showing off the whole day. Aaisaheb later felt we should have prayed to the family deity. She’s planning to do that when I get to class ten.

I know the Ganesh Atharvashirsha shlokas. Ponkshe kaka organizes a programme every year where the shlokas are recited a thousand times. He manages to inform every one and collects quite a crowd. The attendees get to eat homemade sabudana khichdi and bananas. Even if one person from the group recites the shlokas, Ponkshe kaka conveniently assumes that each one has recited them, thus multiplying the count by as many times. We are thus able to complete the task within a few hours. It is naïve to assume that Ganesh does not understand our ploy. But kaka cheerfully continues with his cheating.

I waited for her. It was one thing to meet on the road and talk for some time and another to actually have my wish fulfilled. Perhaps she did not like the way I had invited her. My chest was throbbing hard. I was hoping I wouldn’t meet any known faces here in the temple. I prayed for the same, sitting outside. I then tried my usual ploy of thinking of just the opposite—she would not come, she would not come…she would definitely not come!

At quarter past ten, I lost patience. I was not sure how long I would have to wait. I could see the main gate clearly, but there was a side gate too. She was unlikely to come that way, but I still went around and had a look. She was not to be seen. I took a round of the temple and then returned to sit at the same spot.

She came in at twenty-five minutes past ten. I saw her much before she entered the temple premises. She was wearing that frock with yellow flowers. It was probably her lucky dress. The usual pit of fear in my stomach was replaced by a lump of excitement, which rose right up to my chest. I sprang up. I did not know what to do next. I could not believe my eyes. She had come!

It then dawned on me she was accompanied by someone— a girl younger to her. I figured it must be her younger sister. Oh, no. I felt let down.

She came in and looked around, but I did not move from my spot. Her sister’s presence had stumped me. They walked towards the shoe stand. I started walking towards them, lest she assume I had not come.

We stood near each other at the stand, but she acted as if she did not know me. They went into the temple and I followed them as if I too was going in for the first time. They went and stood before the Ganesh idol and prayed. They had brought some flowers, which they offered to the Lord. Then they put some coins in the donation box. I stood behind them with my hands folded, but my entire attention was focused on her. She had worn her hair in two plaits, with aboli flowers adding to her beauty.

They went around the sanctum sanctorum doing the pradakshinas. She darted a quick look in my direction to confirm whether I was still there. I could not, obviously, do the pradakshinas in the counter-clockwise direction in order to see her, so I stood a little away so that I could watch her as they went around.

They crossed me after finishing one round, the younger sister ahead of Shirodkar. She was in seventh standard and must have been coached not to look at boys. She continued to walk with her head bent low. Shirodkar followed her a few steps behind. They did three rounds and each time she crossed me, she gave me a sweet, shy smile.

Then they went around for the darshan of other idols. I followed them into the Vithoba temple, but when they went into the Devi temple, I did not go in. I did not want her younger sister to notice me, and so I spent the time praying to the idol of Hanuman. I was sure Shirodkar approved of my ploy. She continued to give me that shy smile.

Then they went and sat outside. I too took my place a few feet away. I thought Shirodkar had decided not to speak to me. Else she could have easily said, ‘Aiyaa, how come you are here?’ or something to that effect. But that moment had passed.

I was dumbstruck. It was clear that she had got my message and hence come at my behest. She must have taken her sister along on her mother’s insistence. But the question was—how do I speak to her? I should have spoken to her the moment they had entered. Trying to speak now would make her sister suspicious. She may have been younger to her but was old enough to understand a few things.

I was feeling restless. She continued to chat with her sister and glance in my direction once in a while. But then it dawned on me after a while that simply sitting there was bliss. The courtyard was neat and clean, the tiles cool and soothing. There was a pleasant smell of flowers and incense sticks while the temple bells rang intermittently. The people coming in to pray were neatly dressed and freshly bathed. There was an air of purity and happiness all around and, more importantly, Shirodkar was there with me! She may be sitting a few feet away, but there was something holding us together—like the stars in the Milky Way. There was a connection that bound us together, invisible to others—her sister, the people there. It was visible only to the both of us and the gods up there. They must have been smiling down at us and giving us their blessings. Shirodkar must have realized this early and thus sat there without looking perturbed. The smile continued to play on her lips.

I realized this is what I had been looking for. This indescribable something between us. It wasn’t slave to words. All of us were searching for the same thing—Surya, Phawdya, Chitre, Ambekar, Sukdi, Naru mama and I. It could not be named and there was no need to do so either. We both had found it and a strange sense of delight filled the very core of my being. I felt happy, pure and complete.

They got up after a while and walked towards the gate. I was sure she would turn around at the gate to look at me, and she did. I gave her a knowing smile.

A
fterwards, I went over to Chitre’s house. I would have recounted the entire episode if only he had been free, but they were leaving for Bandra. I did not feel like going back home. I roamed around the lanes and by-lanes of our town. I was feeling so good I did not notice the passage of time. Finally when my legs were tired, I walked back home.

My favourite dish of spicy dumplings had been cooked. Its smell pervaded the house. I suddenly felt very hungry. I washed my feet and hands, and sat down to eat.

The food was good. I was feeling contented. When I complemented Aaisaheb, she said, ‘Then why don’t you take some more?’

Ambabai was silent for a while and then halfway through the meal, with her trademark, naughty smile, she asked, ‘So what did you ask Lord Ganapati for?’

Oh fuck! I was lucky not to have anything in my mouth, else I would have choked. She sat there giving her wry smile, twisting her lips a little. A knowing smile which only an elder sister can give. My mind was racing. She knew I had been there. Denying it would be of no use. I wondered whether she had seen me herself or had been told about it.

If she had seen me, she would surely have me there. Which meant she had been told about my visit by one of her friends. But I had not seen anyone there.

‘I prayed that you may get some common sense,’ I said.

‘Oh really?’ she asked. ‘For me? Or for your own self?’

‘You. Who else?’

‘What is going on here?’ Aaisaheb asked.

‘Our prince paid a visit to the Ganesh temple today,’ she said, smiling. ‘Isn’t that strange?’

‘Who told you so?’ Aaisaheb asked.

‘Sunita had come a while back to return the embroidery kit. She saw him there.’

‘Strange indeed!’ Aaisaheb said, smiling. I saw Baba smiling too. I felt like hiding beneath the table.

‘You won’t recite
Atharvashirsha
at home when asked to,’ Aaisaheb said. ‘Then why go visiting temples?’

‘All this happens when one does not study,’ Ambabai added. ‘Please remember, one does not get marks just by visiting temples. Got that, sir? One needs to study hard.’

Thank God! I said to myself, the way Naru mama would have said. Then I mentally bowed low before Lord Ganesh. It was divine intervention that prevented Shirodkar and me from talking to each other. Else that Sunita, or whoever that friend of Ambabai’s was, would have spotted us chatting. I would have been a dead duck then.

N
othing had changed—the classrooms, the tables, the chairs and the playground—it was all the same, yet I felt different. I felt light and floated my way to school and back and to the tuition classes. I could not define my feelings. A constant, pleasant tune played inside me. Biology, Physics, Chemistry or Geometry— everything felt friendly and easy to understand. Nothing seemed difficult. Even the hot afternoon breeze seemed soothing, and the barren paddy fields seemed full of water and the sweet smell of ice-candy hung in the air. The mountains beyond Sonarpada seemed enveloped in majestic blue coats. It was a sight to behold.

W
e continued to assemble regularly at our adda and our pranks continued as before. Surya would get restless seeing Kevda and was worried about the days slipping by without his making a headway. To add to his agony, Phawdya announced that he and his heartthrob, Vaishali Kadam, had met in a lane near the railway station. This meant that he too was on his way.

One Saturday morning, while returning from school, he said, ‘Come on. We will follow Kevda today. What say?’

For a moment, I could not grasp what he meant. The other students were slowly streaming out of the class. Chitre was absent that day.

‘Chaila! It has been too long now, bhenchod. There is no point in simply waiting,’ Surya said. ‘We will follow her. Let us see what she does!’

Phawdya was quick to wriggle out.

‘I have to go and pick up vegetables. I can come with you till the station if you wish.’

‘Joshi, come with me,’ Surya said.

I was scared. Follow Kevda! This was unexpected. And if Chitre came to know about it, I would be in trouble.

‘No, yaar. I have some work to finish at home,’ I began.

‘Come on
,
saale! Why are you acting pricey?’ Surya threatened.

One look at him and I knew I had no choice. I
had
to go with him.

‘I don’t have much time, okay? I need to get back home by eleven,’ I tried.

‘We will see. Come, let us go,’ he persisted.

Holding his bundle of books between his thighs, he quickly combed his hair, all the while keeping an eye out for the girls from class eight. Shortly, Kevda came out with her friends and they walked by, laughing and chatting away.

We followed them. My chest was pounding wildly. It was one thing to tease the girls hiding behind a wall, and another to brazenly follow them. Some of the boys looked at us. Surya followed the girls at close quarters and I had to pull him back by his shirt.

‘Don’t be a fool! Don’t follow them so closely,’ I said. ‘We need to maintain a respectable distance.’

We then allowed a reasonable distance between us. The girls had probably realized we were following them as a couple of them turned to look at us and then murmured something amongst them. Everyone in school knew that Surya was hell-bent on impressing Kevda.

After a while, most of the girls went their respective ways. It was only Kevda and her other friend now. Chitre had mentioned she stayed somewhere on the other side of the railway line but, instead of crossing the railway gate, she turned towards Chiplunkar lane.

‘Come on, let us get a little closer,’ Surya said.

‘Why?’

‘What do you mean why? We need to let her know.’

‘She knows,’ I said. ‘The whole school knows. What will you get by going closer?’

‘I want to speak to her,’ Surya said. ‘What do you expect me to do otherwise? Just go on pining for her?’

Kevda’s friend turned into a lane and Kevda walked alone now. There was no crowd and the lane seemed quiet.

‘Come on, let us move a little closer,’ Surya said, pulling my hand. ‘We will go speak to her.’

‘Wait a moment. Let us see what she’s up to. Why is she going that way? That’s not the way to her house.’

We got the answer to our question shortly. She entered a shop in the lane. It must have been a ladies’ garments and tailoring shop; we could see a lot of coloured blouses hanging outside. We did not notice her entering the shop and walked past. Kevda was inside the shop talking to the person at the counter. She looked straight at us. Surya continued to stare and then gave a goofy smile. I pulled him and we continued to walk. I could see Kevda was taken aback and was looking at us with suspicion. The tailoring master, with the measuring tape hanging from his neck, also looked at us.

We had to stop and wait for a while. We were not sure where she would go after finishing at the shop. We realized the lane ended a little ahead and we turned back. I told Surya,

‘Let us stand a little further on the other side. We will be able to see where she goes.’

We walked back. Kevda was still in the shop. I was sure Surya would stare at her as we passed by and hence took the precaution of keeping him on the other side. Kevda continued to look out, her eyes full of suspicion and anger.

We came on to the main road and stood below the transformer put up by the electricity board. My guess was right—Kevda came out and then retraced her steps, turning into a lane near Syndicate Bank. She had not seen us. The lane led to the railway gate.

‘Come on,’ I said, pulling Surya.

We kept a safe distance. Kevda must have assumed we had left and walked at a relaxed pace without turning to look out for us. We felt relieved. There was a vegetable market near the gate followed by the Octroi naka. The railway gate would be closed most of the time, but that did not deter people from going beneath or from the side of it. Kevda suddenly turned around when she reached the gate. We were caught unawares. She looked at us for a brief moment and continued in the direction of her house. My chest was pounding now. Surya, optimistic as ever, said, ‘Ichibhana, she saw us!’

Kevda crossed the gate and then the railway lines. She turned to see us crossing the lines. A local train from Mumbai was coming our way. We crossed over while she moved ahead and quickly crossed over to the other side beyond the vegetable and fruit sellers. I tried to hold back Surya who seemed eager to close the distance. She turned once more to look at us. I could clearly see that she was angry.

‘She’s angry,’ I said. ‘Let us go back.’

Surya stopped for a moment but was not willing to give up the chase.

‘She’s not angry or anything,’ he insisted. ‘Let us see what she’s up to.’

We continued walking. A makeshift police chowki straddled the crossroads. It had been set up when people had complained about the rowdyism of boys from Akurli village The chowki was a small one, with no space to sit inside. Two havaldars sat on steel chairs outside. A thousand bulbs lit up in my mind the moment I saw her going by the chowki.

‘Surya, wait!’ I shouted, pulling him back. ‘See that havaldar sitting there? If Kevda complains to him, we are dead meat.’

Surya took some time before he came back to his senses. Kevda was near the chowki and all she had to do was to point out a finger towards us. I turned and started walking back without waiting for Surya. He, quite obviously, followed me.

‘Ichibhana, why the hell have they set up that chowki?’ he asked.

‘For the havaldars to sit and sunbathe!’ I taunted. ‘Come on, let us scoot!’

I left him at the turn towards Mokshadham and took the road home, breathing a sigh of relief.

T
he real question for me was how to get the grammar textbook back from Shirodkar. Not that I needed it—for I knew most of the stuff in it. I did not use it every day.

I wondered what she would do. I watched her constantly in class. I thought I had seen the book with her a couple of times. She could have passed on the book to me in Rajguru sir’s class when we have the permission to roam around the room. But she did not.

We were busy chatting before the tuition classes began. I had made friends with most of the boys. Though they were from Subhash. It was fun talking to them. They would gossip about the affairs in their school; the most talked about being one Madgaokar’s. She was a bombshell and many boys from other schools had an eye on her.

We stood near the compound wall. The boys and girls stood near each other chatting away. I would never look at Shirodkar when Mande was around. But my ears strained to hear every word they spoke.

The earlier batch streamed out. We picked up our books and started walking into the class when Shirodkar said, a tad loudly, ‘Juvekar is not coming in today.’

‘Why so?’ Mande asked.

‘She’s not well,’ Shirodkar answered, loudly as before.

No one spoke further and we entered the class and sat down.

The class began and the teacher started teaching Algebra. It did not strike me for a while but then I realized the reason behind Shirodkar’s loud voice. They normally spoke in whispers. But she had suddenly raised her voice today to announce Juvekar’s absence.

My mind was racing away. I could not follow Deshmane sir. Shirodkar had loudly said, Juvekar would not be coming in today. How did it matter if she did not come in?

It then dawned on my stupid mind. She wanted me to know! For it meant she would be walking down that lane alone. It was a message to me so she could return my book.

I smiled to myself and then looked at her. She was looking down at her notebook. I nodded with a slight tilt of my head to indicate I had understood. Naru mama says girls are very perceptive and they would know. I had got the message. I knew what to do.

It happened the way I had anticipated. I spent some time to find a way to excuse myself from Pingle. Shirodkar and Mande started walking back home and I followed them at a safe distance. As expected, she glanced back when they reached the temple. It was a little dark, but I was sure she would have seen me. She must have been happy to see me. I was not an idiot not to have recognized her message. Mande went her way and Shirodkar started walking towards her lane. She glanced back once more in my direction.