Shala (14 page)

Ambabai continued to harp on my need to join tuition classes. The scene would be repeated each evening and, while Aaisaheb had not yet firmed up her mind on the subject, it would not take much time for Ambabai to influence her.

I had no plans to join the tuition classes—in ninth or ever! None of us in our gang wanted to take tuitions. Surya, unfortunately, had no choice as Bhadbhade sir went and taught him each evening. His father had given him a place at a lesser rent on the condition that he would teach his son. Surya would have loved to go out each evening in search of Kevda but had to sit and study instead. Bhadbhade sir was newly married and in dire need of a place; he was unlikely to let go of such an opportunity. Chitre had no need to join a class and Phawdya had no time for it. The tuition classes in our town were the most boring places of all. They did not have large, airy rooms like those in our school. They were held in cramped, stuffy rooms. And the worst part was to listen to the same stuff, which had been taught in school. The same equations, the same theorems—how boring!

Chitre has a point—he says if you don’t understand something in school, you can always refer to the books, or else you can ask the teachers. You cannot clarify your doubts in tuition classes. They run like trains, one batch after the other. I would rather go to Kendalkar sir’s classes. He may shout, but he will go to great lengths to explain until your doubt is clarified. But who would explain this to Ambabai and Aaisaheb? They believe tuitions are the panacea. They would be happy to have tuitions morning, noon and evening. They do not understand our need to go out and experience the world. They believe we don’t need to play or do anything else once we get to class nine.

T
he next day I was at the free library, whiling away my time, when I met Pingle. He had been in our school earlier but had since joined Subhash Vidyalaya.

‘Joshi? What are you doing here?’

‘I had gone to the library,’ I said. ‘What about you?’

‘Tuition!’ he said, looking at the notebooks in his hand.

‘Where do you go?’ I asked.

‘To Deshmane sir’s classes,’ he said.

I had heard of this Deshmane sir. He was in Subhash and was known to teach well. Earlier he used to teach at home after school hours, but when some of the parents complained, he left his job and started taking classes full-time.

‘Are you taking classes for all subjects?’

‘No. Just English and Maths.’

‘Is anyone from our class attending the tuition with you?’ I asked.

‘No. No one from our class,’ he said. He thought for a moment and then said, ‘But there are two girls.’

‘Which ones?’

‘Shirodkar and Mande.’

A bolt of lightning hit me. Shirodkar was attending tuition with this guy. No wonder I had not seen her in the evenings. Here I was, sitting like a fool waiting to see her, while she was busy attending tuitions!

‘What are your timings?’

‘Six to seven in the evening.’

‘Does he teach well?’

‘Okay. Not great but at least he does not shout. That’s the good part.’

I returned home that evening forming a plan in my head. The moment I saw Ambabai, I said, ‘I had gone enquiring about tuition classes. I have found a good one.’

‘Which is….?’

‘Deshmane sir’s. Do you know he was in Subhash Vidyalaya earlier?’

‘Really?’ she said. ‘When do you intend to join the classes?’

‘I will go and meet him one of these days,’ I said, trying not to sound too eager.

The next day I dropped my bag at home and rushed over to the tuition classes. I knew the place. One batch was just getting over. I looked around but could not see Shirodkar anywhere. I decided to meet Deshmane sir before the next batch began.

‘You are most welcome,’ he said, dusting his hands. ‘But there is no place in this batch. You can come for the next batch or for a batch in the morning.’

‘No, sir. I need to come for this batch,’ I persisted.

‘Where will you sit? There is no place. The batch is full. And what is so special about this batch? You can come in the morning. Or the next one too is fine. Do you have any constraints?’

As if a bulb lit up in my head, I said, ‘Yes, sir. I work,’ I lied through my teeth, ‘That’s why I cannot come for the later batch. Or the morning batch.’

He pondered for a moment and then, picking up the duster and chalk, said, ‘Okay baba. You may try. Someone or the other is absent each day. Try your luck.’

I silently bowed before the blackboard and decided to join the class right away. The classes were held in his house. The otherwise large room was stuffed with benches. There was very little space in the aisles to walk. There was one window on the girls’ side and a single tubelight for the entire room. The students shared the bench, three to one. Pingle asked his partner to move to the other bench and invited me to join him.

Shirodkar came in a little late and sat with the girls. She did not notice me. She continued to look straight ahead at the blackboard and was busy making notes. I felt good. Deshmane sir’s teaching was similar to our Halbe sir’s, but who cared. I was not there to learn! We were sitting three to a bench and the classroom was getting stuffy, but it was all fine. All that mattered was that I could see her.

When the class got over, I deliberately came out of the class along with the girls, hoping to catch her attention. I turned back and shouted out loudly for Pingle. I had plans to follow her after class, but unfortunately Pingle came in and, putting his arms around my shoulders, said, ‘Come. Let us go over to my house. It is nice to meet an ex-classmate after a long time.’ I had no choice but to go with him. But it was fine. I did not resist. I had found a way to see her again every evening, and that was enough.

Ambabai was happy at my having finally joined the tuition classes. That the teacher was from her favourite Subhash Vidyalaya was a double bonanza. That day I understood the real meaning of the phrase, ‘to kill two birds with one stone.’

T
he next day we gathered at our adda and I told the gang about the classes.

‘Joshi, saale! You said you wouldn’t join any classes, didn’t you?’ Chitre asked.

‘Yes, but what could I do? My sister was making my life miserable.’

‘Chaila! I too should join some classes,’ Phawdya muttered. ‘But I don’t have time either in the morning or evening.’

‘I am not going to join any classes,’ Chitre said. ‘What they teach here is enough to tire the brain out.’

Surya was already stuck in a home tuition. He asked me right away, ‘Anyone from our school there?’

I was expecting it and had prepared an answer for the same. They would come to know about Shirodkar sooner or later, so there was no point in hiding the fact. I said, without any hesitation, ‘There are a few girls, but I could not see them well. It’s a very cramped, crowded room, you know. You remember Pingle who was with us earlier? He is there.’

‘I hope you are not going there after someone you fancy?’ Surya wanted to know.

‘What are you saying? I had to join the class to keep Ambabai at bay,’ I said. I spotted Kevda passing by and immediately distracted him with, ‘Look, your heartthrob is going by.’

‘Is she? Ichibhana, should you not tell me earlier?’ Surya went over to the window and peered down, muttering, hand on chest, ‘Hai meri Kevda! What do I do? Bhenchod, Chitre, I keep asking you, but you won’t ever introduce me to her, will you?’

Kevda looked pretty with flowers in her hair, her dress neatly ironed.

‘But I need to know her before I can introduce you, isn’t it?’ Chitre responded.

‘Hai meri rani! I must do something soon,’ he sighed, looking down at her.

T
hat day when Manjrekar sir was in the class, Appa entered without any warning. The students stood up and said ‘Namaste sir’ in unison. Appa had a girl accompanying him. He came in and addressed the class,

‘Sit down please. You have a new classmate joining you from today. She’s from Mumbai. Her father got transferred, hence she’s joining school in mid-term. Please introduce yourself.’

‘Anita Ambekar,’ she said in a clear, confident voice.

We all looked at her with a mixture of surprise and awe. Girls are girls, but this one was different. She was a dish! Most of the students who join school are shy and look down at the floor, but she looked at us, straight in the eye. The girls were impressed and gaped at her open-mouthed. Even Manjrekar sir fell silent.

Appa guided her to one of the benches in the front row and asked her to sit there.

‘Who is your class teacher?’ he asked. ‘Oh, yes! Paranjpe ma’am, isn’t it? She’ll come and write her name in the register. Please continue with the class.’

We relaxed a little after Appa left, but the air was full of anticipation.

‘What a lovely chick she is!’ whispered Surya.

I did not reply.

‘So, which school do you come from?’ Manjrekar sir asked her.

‘Saint Mary’s, Bandra,’ she replied in the same confident voice.

We were all stunned. Bandra! Wow! We rarely hear the anglicized version of Bandre. We knew Dadar, Mahim and Bandre. But Bandra! And that too pronounced as Band-ra! This was rare. Chitre’s mavshi stays there and he visits her sometimes. What’s more, she was coming from an English-medium school. A convent! We would have ragged a newcomer to death but this case was different.

The Ambekar girl was quiet on the first day, but the next day she created a tremor of sorts.

She walked up to Bibikar and said, ‘Bibikar, would you lend me your notebooks?’ She had found out he was one of the better students.

Bibikar was dumbfounded and didn’t know what to say. Never before had a girl borrowed his notebooks. She did not wait for him to answer and asked Ghasu Gokhale. He was quick on the uptake and retorted, ‘Why don’t you ask one of the girls?’

‘Do you have any problem in lending me your books?’ she asked. ‘The girls act pricey. Do lend me yours. You come first or second in the class, isn’t it?’

He lent her one of his notebooks. She did not stop there. Within a few days, she knew the names of all the boys. She realized quickly that the nerdy guys on the front bench were not of much use and turned to make friends with us back-benchers. One day, when we had a few free classes and held a cricket match with nine-d, Phawdya took five wickets and Chitre hit three fours back to back. She walked up to us saying, ‘Congratulations, Pawar. You played a great game. Chitre, you too played well.’

Chitre was a cool cucumber. He was used to the girls from Bandra and just nonchalantly brushed his hand through his hair. But Phawdya was clean bowled. He asked after she had left, ‘What did she say? Congress session? What does that have to do with cricket?’

We laughed heartily. That day onwards, we teased him to death on the subject.

I
consciously kept my distance from Ambekar but Dashrath, Harishchandra, Santya, and others fell for her. Sometimes she cycled to school and once, when the tyre was punctured, asked Dashrath to get it repaired. He not only got the work done but also delivered it to her house. She asked Harishchandra to get a rose plant and requested Santya to get a stone pestle and mortar for her house. Her house was in Kanhe village where Surya lived. She didn’t spare him either.

‘Mhatre,’ she approached him one day. ‘Would you take care of that guy who sits in the laundry shop—the one in the corner. He whistles whenever I pass by.’

‘Who are you talking about?’ Surya asked.

‘The one who sits in that Ganesh Laundry—that dark fellow.’

Surya had been waiting for such an opportunity. He took Dashrath along with him. There was no need really because the fellow pissed in his pants the moment he saw Surya. Surya warned him and returned elated, with his collars turned up. He boasted, ‘If you have any trouble with any guy, just tell me. I don’t allow anyone to mess with any of the girls in my class.’

Surya decided to put his offer into action. He targeted Thombre from eleventh standard. Ever since Ambekar had joined, the boys from tenth and eleventh standards had started making rounds of our class. Surya had seen her smile at Thombre. He was a body builder and had won a few competitions representing the school. We boys believed some of the ma’ams too flirted with him, especially that shorty Pawaskar ma’am. She was unmarried and was a temporary teacher in the laboratory. Thombre had bulging biceps. But he was a decent fellow who minded his own business. He used to sometimes come over to our classroom in the mid-break. He commented once, a tad loudly, ‘You guys have got some nice mangoes ripening this season in your class, isn’t it?’

Ambekar had smiled hearing him. But Surya, along with Harishchandra, decided to challenge him.

‘I heard you are eyeing the girls in my class, bhenchod.’

‘Mhatre, you don’t get into this. And don’t use foul language.’

‘So, what will you do? Huh?’ Surya challenged him.

Thombre could have easily punched Surya unconscious. He had arms of steel, but he did not want to stretch the argument. Luckily, the bell rang and the scene ended. But Surya was keen to pursue it and tried to get his relatives in the tenth and eleventh standards on his side. Unfortunately for him, he found they too had an eye on Ambekar. One of them said, ‘Oh boy! I would love to take her to the woods and suck those mangoes!’ Surya decided to drop the matter.

Ambekar was popular with the boys, but the girls decided to boycott her. She was not liked by any of them because she talked freely with the boys. She was very good in English and became a favourite of Bendre ma’am’s. That irritated the girls further. Sukdi, otherwise a cool girl, had an argument with Ambekar within a matter of days.

It was only later that we came to know of Ambekar’s real preference. While she would give a sweet, coy smile to the boys from higher classes, her heart was set on Manjrekar sir. She would sit quietly in other classes but become very vocal in Manjrekar sir’s class, raising her hands and chanting ‘sir, sir’ for every question asked by him. She would sometimes rest her chin on her palm and giggle to herself. Manjrekar sir too liked her and would often ask, ‘Understood?’ directing the question at her alone. Soon the news of him being partial to her spread. We had never scribbled any comments against Manjrekar sir in the toilets because he was our favourite, but Teredesai’s sister told him that the girls had written about both of them in the ladies’ toilet. The message read that a particular teacher really loved
Ambe
, which meant mangoes in Marathi. It had to be a prank played by some girl from our class. It was obvious. A fresh round of gossip began in school.