The Torpedos went on a
nostalgia trip and posted about their school's fancy-dress competition. It makes for some fun reading. However, it prompted me, for no obvious reason, to recount this story from a time far behind:
K was a very shy boy. Until he reached PU, he kept to himself, steered clear of the bullies, girls, and teachers. Actually, no one took notice of him until first PU. He was a short, scrawny guy that barely spoke. Our class teacher in third standard, let's call her V, was a control-freak. She could not tolerate students that maintained incomplete notes or wore shabby shoes, you know? She carried a bamboo stick that could have passed for a baton. All one had to do was breath a bit harder, and she'd crack her stick on his knuckles. She never hit the girls though.
So, one arid, March morning, when schools started early and finished early in Chittoor, K got himself into a knot. He wanted to crap. All he had to do was stand up, and say 'Excuse me teacher, I need to crap.' And, Ms.V would have permitted him. But K was scared witless to seek permission. He had been deliberating, in vain, on how he could take the load off.
We sat on the floor and used the wooden benches as writing tables. Each bench had three kids and it was pretty crowded. What does K do? He craps silently on the floor, moves to his left towards Raghu, and points a finger at fat Mahesh who was sleeping with his eyes half-open, and almost screams to MS.V, 'Teacher, Mahesh crapped!' Ms. V's face turned purple. And, believe me; I saw smoke come out of her ears. Fat Mahesh did not even know what hit him. His mind was still in the process of constructing a sentence but his mouth was emitting garbled sounds like 'Ungg.. Maa... ooooh urghhh.' Ms. V screamed with all her might, 'Aaaayaaahhhhh!' And the school Aayah appeared magically, chewing on pan. She spat through her teeth on the classroom wall, before she enquired 'What happened?' Ms. V told her. The Aayah whisked fat Mahesh away towards our loo, by his right ear lobe. Mahesh still was in the process of constructing a sentence you see and was emitting junk noises, but now the gushing tears that washed his chubby face made life hell for him: the noises were interspersed with sobs and hiccups ("hakkk... wooooooon... blikk?"). The Aayah disrobed Mahesh in the middle of the ground and made him stand outside the loo. Thus, as the whole primary school watched, the Aayah washed Mahesh's behind with a Coconut-skin scrub.
Fat Mahesh left school the next year for obvious reasons.
K, if you are reading this, you are the slimiest fothamucka (thanks for the word BT) in the world and I hope your progeny does not inherit your legacy.
Labels: stories
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