“Well ! you
have to identify and tell me 10 new words and three news in this Hindu paper after I return from market” brawled my father and chugged away in
his scooter.
Huh! … With the
annual exams being over the day before, I was beginning to wonder that it’s going
to be great fun and I didn’t expect it start so soon. I reluctantly picked the
paper, it was like a pool of words, with so many columns each racing against
each other and our grim Mr. Narashima Rao standing in the centre of the pool and
staring at me. I couldn’t understand where to jump in the pool, where to start?
, what is the news?. One paragraph after another, I couldn’t build any link… Nah!
I folded to the other half, wah ! our CM Ms. Jaya was laughing at me..errrrr…..
nothing could I fathom here as well, except I got a new word ‘consensus’ (that was
not reached between two stated). Wow! I got one word. I was getting frustrated
as I was not able to identify any other word or news… reading Hardy boys was easier though,I sighed.
I lifted my
head from the newspaper and stared at the book shelf, there was ‘GK for every
one’, ‘success review’, ‘manorama’, and as a consolation two tinkle digest book,
one panchantra . Well! I knew the latter two books word by word by heart till day. Those were the only story books my father ever gave me till date,
except few ambuli-mama that we purchased now and then. I wouldn’t complain him,
for those were the only books we could avail from the shops in our town. Of-course
other than the political and lady magazine stuff. There were few other books that
my brother won as a prize for securing top rank in the previous academic year, ‘fun
with mathematics’, (how come it could be fun ?!!, that was the merciless and
most cruel of all subjects to me in my school days and even college. It was the
only subject we can never blabber), and one other story book. Heaved a sigh,
looked down the newspaper, turned the next page, in the corner there was a news
‘in an accident two persons died’..yuppy ! got one news , Looked down..’person
murdered ..’ haiyyaa ! got one more.. was frantically searching for one more…in
distant I started to hear the chugging of my father’s scooter... so early, I began to wonder began was palpitating faster...
My father came
in and was sweating profusely from the summer heat, he asked, give me the news…
I started blabbering out the’… accident and murder news’… he cut short
and teased..’are they news?’… he started “well I met Subramani father on the
way, they are planning for Hindi tuition, you guys better join them, when you go
to north India, you won’t survive without Hindi..(I was wondering , where is
the word ‘consensus’).. What?... he asked us… there is no way ‘I can say ‘NO’
and sit at home.. so, I just nodded the head.
Off we, myself
and my brother trotted the next day, with a yellow gunny bag, with a box in it
and a rough note, we met Subramani’s mother, her kids and her accomplice an
elderly lady with henna coloured hair. It seems the elderly lady was already a
student there. She was gossiping with aunty all the way, “she is a teacher at
the college nearby, I am doing now praveshika”.. so on..I was just kicking
the yellow gunny bag with my leg sideways and forward as I was walking , making
the bag have a clockwise rotation, till it gets full tight at the handle
portion and then allowing it to swing anti-clockwise, I was also wondering in my
mind, would she be soft, or a hard task master, soon we reached the place.
The hindi M’am
had a joyful face and welcomed us. She spelt the charter to us ,
classes would be from 9:30 to 11:30. She was not mindful of the fees and was
just taking the classes as a hobby. The elderly lady started chatting
with the M’am, “yesterday there were guests at my home, they spoke in Hindi, I
understood but was not able to reply back.”. one senior in the class interrupted
and asked the meaning of the word pointing at the book, M’am didn’t look at the
book and asked him to read aloud, he blurted out, it goes as “kushubuthu’...
whole class erupted in laughter. Every day, guys in the same course, would read
a chapter, each one must read a paragraph and the next one another
alternatively till we complete. The book had a temple pond picture in the front.
The guys causing me this misery must be living near this pond, I wondered. Luckily it was
not severe as I worried initially, it was neutral, not fun either, sometimes,
we would get cricket updates by peeping into the TV at the living room,
sometimes snacks plate would make a round in the class. Other than the hindi
class, handheld videos games or occasional late night cards were a part of our summer holidays. A nights troll in the exhibition nearby was also a part of the menu.
My daily routine starts with the newspaper, then the tuition, then indoor cricket and then our father would come home. Dependent on his mood, sometimes he would ask us, "Ain't you guys watching TV, but mostly he would say take your Hindi books and read". If at all something improved on this instruction it was my dream , I would dream of playing alongside Sachin, what if I had played that Sharjah knock... I would dream of getting autograph from Rajini... I would dream of eating poricha parotta that night, I would fear of the devil child that might be hovering over the wash area ( a famous rumour at that time ), my hand would sub-consciously turn pages when our father crosses us. Days and years have rolled by, as in reading news so is the office activity pending with review constantly by manager. Neither happy or sad, neutral as always in doing things forced to do. But the dreams have thinned, fears and worries have become fattened. I don't to end this way, the river torrent is carrying me in a direction, hopefully the rush slows down before it meets the sea.
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