Characters in class

 

Browsing through my friends list I realise that most of my male friends are last benchers in class or either the notorious noted ones. I remember my schooldays and generally fail to hide the smile of acknowledgement while running through the chapters.

I had a Gujarati friend who used to join me on my way to school and my duty was to get him downstairs on time to catch the Bombay BEST bus to school. School however was a good 15 minutes walk from the closest bus stop. My friend invariably used to start doing his collar and tie when he used to see the bus pass by and bus after bus I watched him do that slowly till we reached late every single day. Fellow used to make me wait in his house till he got his Brahmin precision puja right, doing his bell and hymns ritual to go on to the daily missing the bus routine. Though irritating for my punctual British inspired Bengali instincts, I thoroughly enjoyed my morning conversations with him which were more or less concentrated on to the sex scandals that we were aware off. It was quite a scene for anyone to imagine that we both used to be the only boys walking up to school on the usual path whereas most other kids used to invariably take the deviation to the temple during our exams. We were extremely amused to see ourselves on the road less travelled during the exams and the crowd did recognize us as the twosome who not care for god.

One other character who accompanied me to Marathi tuitions was a well known goon who had origins from Rajasthan and had a reputation to fail in class after class and I finally came to his class. To my delight he turned out be quite protective of me and I had the privileged of flaunting him as my Bodyguard. We both used to sit on the floor of the flat where the stern teacher used to tutor us hopeless souls and we used to patiently wait till the girl comes to give tea and due to the force of the fan her frock used to fly like a Marlyn Munroo scene from posters. Day after day we chuckled and quietly watched by. I started cycling to school by then and one day on my way back I was caught unawares when I saw a mob approaching towards me. As I saw the frenzy come closer and closer fear gripped me and all of a sudden the entire crowd took a turn to the temple next to me. My friend laughed till I frowned as I seemed to be the only one not aware of the miracle that lord Ganesha was drinking milk. I discussed with my friend what if we go in and feed a little whiskey… um um just for the kicks but we dropped the idea.

The guy who sat next to me in class was really a class act as day after day he came closer to being banished out of school and then his house. He ecstatically showed me his tooth of gold and said- no problemo mann…… in case I am shunned also I can buy time for I am going to sell my golden tooth. The maverick that he was I too joined him once in a while to give him company outside of class. He will scare me out of my wits as he would start doing mimicry of a Dev Anand dance and I would watch him in amazement till such time that the teacher could take it no more.     

I wonder how those boys would fare in today's world that I am used too. That was a very different world and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Come rain, come shine my smile was constant with the mischief that my classmates made me witness to.

My bygone classmates!

Kolkata marketplace

summer particularly not the best time to visit Kolkata but it so happens that I have to invariably accompany my mother who happens to be a school teacher in her free time.

Last time round I did have the previlidge to visit the countryside where my father is currently posted. Accompanying ma was pleasantly eye opening in many ways while I surfed through the streets of Gariahaat, a busy footpath market place which stretches almost 2 kilometers on both sides of the main road just like my streets back home in Mumbai or Bangalore. Hawkers are not just hawking but take a keen interest in building relations with the people walking by. Chatting up all the way to the buyers pocket I must say their ways are quite charming not to forget otherwise it wouldnt have caught my eye. It denotes excellent salesmanship unlike I have seen anywhere in this country. Most bouyant hawkers clan I have ever met where some are taking bath on the foothpath, some are having their meal, some are laughing with the customers and some just passing critical comments on the previous customer just left. My maasi took me and ma for saree shopping to a small arcade where the ground floor in amongst many shops I was taken to a small or say a 10 feet by 6 feet shop. A shop my maasi the way she spoke she exercised a certain degree of ownership. I have been coming here since I got married she exclaimed and the same gentleman has grown old from that time. He is not the usual shopkeeper. He wears a dhoti which is tightly rolled up and sports a cotton half sleeve banyan and doesnt come across as agile at all. He sprang in action as soon as he finished asking about my mausaji's health. Sarees from all over Bengal with different border designs started raining in that tiny shop. That man never tired even if the ladies gave their extremely critical feedbacks. His ferocity increased and he all of a sudden burrowed inside a small shaft right on top of the shop, seemingly like a small godown. He brought down a dozen more to my amazement and in a momeent jumped out of the shop to order for some cool drinks as the ladies surfed through the cotton sarees. After the ordeal got over he was happy to get the hard nosed hard bargain from my maasi to laugh and wave his hand upwards in contentment gesturing that he is more than happy to see us again. A village oldman right in the heart of kolkata and still the same as he was my maasi says when she first met him.

I was taken to the countryside where we also roamed the veg market and experienced the best produce in terms of quality as it comes from the sperm of the gangetic plain as I call it. Undoubtedly an enriching experience as I understood why these fellows crib while roaming the markets in Mumbai or Bangalore. Invariably I will listen my relatives scoff about the local produce here in other cities of India. One guy actually comented on my alphanso mangoes saying he has seen much better back home. I always thought of telling them please get a grip and stop comparing.

For once I have keenly observed and concluded that they were not wrong