A friend in need...
When the chowkidar told me that the superintendent had called me to his office I was expecting a call from home. My mother used to call me around half past seven in the evening. But when I saw the other members of gang of five outside Baju’s office, I knew something was deadly wrong. All the superintendents in Cotton Hostels were christened with nick names, usually short froms of their full names. So, our superintendent Dr. Brajendra Nath Talukdar became Baju.
Inside Baju’s office I saw monitors of all the three blocks and the person Bhaskar had slapped in the park. I understood what was waiting for me and instantly got ready for defence. God has gifted me with this peculiar power of not loosing my nerve when I face a crisis head on. That day was no exception.
The grilling started. “Kaushik, did you and your friends abuse this gentleman in Nehru Park and one of you physically assaulted him?” Baju started like a judge.
“Sir, there is no straight answer to this question. We did not abuse this gentleman, but yes one of us did slap him,” I said firmly.
“Shut up, you first year, don’t try to act smart. You are lying,” the second block monitor howled at me. That was obvious as his friend was the victim.
“Hold on Nihar; let me ask. Why did you slap him and who was that culprit?” intervened Baju.
I did not like the word culprit, but I knew that was not the time to oppose it. But I wanted to prove that the word gentleman was also not appropriate either.
“Sir, this person was sitting with a woman and he complained to police that we were creating nuisance in the park. We took offence to this fact and when we sought an explanation from him he misbehaved with us. Bhaskar lost his cool and slapped him. Bhaskar did a mistake, but why are we dragged into this?” I attacked with a lie. Bhaskar had not given him a chance to misbehave.
“Sir, he is lying. I was sitting there with my sister-in-law. She was upset due to a family problem and I was trying to cheer her up. I did not make any complaint and did not misbehave with anyone,” the gentleman screamed.
That was his greatest mistake.
“If you are telling the truth, I must say you are man of dubious character. You were hugging that woman and kissing her too on her lips. Is that the way you cheer up your sister-in-law? You were even smoking in front of her. Either you admit before your teacher that she was your girlfriend or you have an illicit relation with your sister-in-law. Besides, you had pointed a finger to us and that proves that you had complained,” I delivered the severest blow like a seasoned lawyer.
The commotion had begun. The seniors were trying to defend the guy who had already been mauled by me and the ‘cuprits’ were trying to defend themselves with the ammunition I had unleashed. I was staring at Baju and he knew what my eyes had said.
“Silence please! I got the whole story. There was provocation from both sides. I have enough reason to believe that you were spending some cosy moments with your beloved and got disturbed by these kids. You did complain to the police and this made these kids wild. Bhaskar did a mistake by slapping you and for that he will be punished. But the others were mere spectators to a volatile situation. My experience and Kaushik’s eyes make me believe that whatever he is saying is true,” finally Baju delivered his judgement.
I had realised this special power of my eyes very early in life and always used it to the desired effect. Even the seniors believed me and came under the impression that four of us were absolutely innocent. It was actually a war between Bhaskar and their friend.
Baju tortured the ‘gentleman’ for an hour with a lecture on morality and public behaviour and why we Indians should not display our emotions in public. Bhaskar was forced to say sorry and was later slapped generously in the TV room, which used to be the punishment room for first-year students.
I needed a scapegoat to save my skin, and happily sacrificed Bhaskar. Soon, he forgot all the slaps he had received, but could not forget a friend like me. None can ever. Gang of five fell apart that night and I started devoting my time to movies.
Little did I realise that gang of six was waiting for me.
Inside Baju’s office I saw monitors of all the three blocks and the person Bhaskar had slapped in the park. I understood what was waiting for me and instantly got ready for defence. God has gifted me with this peculiar power of not loosing my nerve when I face a crisis head on. That day was no exception.
The grilling started. “Kaushik, did you and your friends abuse this gentleman in Nehru Park and one of you physically assaulted him?” Baju started like a judge.
“Sir, there is no straight answer to this question. We did not abuse this gentleman, but yes one of us did slap him,” I said firmly.
“Shut up, you first year, don’t try to act smart. You are lying,” the second block monitor howled at me. That was obvious as his friend was the victim.
“Hold on Nihar; let me ask. Why did you slap him and who was that culprit?” intervened Baju.
I did not like the word culprit, but I knew that was not the time to oppose it. But I wanted to prove that the word gentleman was also not appropriate either.
“Sir, this person was sitting with a woman and he complained to police that we were creating nuisance in the park. We took offence to this fact and when we sought an explanation from him he misbehaved with us. Bhaskar lost his cool and slapped him. Bhaskar did a mistake, but why are we dragged into this?” I attacked with a lie. Bhaskar had not given him a chance to misbehave.
“Sir, he is lying. I was sitting there with my sister-in-law. She was upset due to a family problem and I was trying to cheer her up. I did not make any complaint and did not misbehave with anyone,” the gentleman screamed.
That was his greatest mistake.
“If you are telling the truth, I must say you are man of dubious character. You were hugging that woman and kissing her too on her lips. Is that the way you cheer up your sister-in-law? You were even smoking in front of her. Either you admit before your teacher that she was your girlfriend or you have an illicit relation with your sister-in-law. Besides, you had pointed a finger to us and that proves that you had complained,” I delivered the severest blow like a seasoned lawyer.
The commotion had begun. The seniors were trying to defend the guy who had already been mauled by me and the ‘cuprits’ were trying to defend themselves with the ammunition I had unleashed. I was staring at Baju and he knew what my eyes had said.
“Silence please! I got the whole story. There was provocation from both sides. I have enough reason to believe that you were spending some cosy moments with your beloved and got disturbed by these kids. You did complain to the police and this made these kids wild. Bhaskar did a mistake by slapping you and for that he will be punished. But the others were mere spectators to a volatile situation. My experience and Kaushik’s eyes make me believe that whatever he is saying is true,” finally Baju delivered his judgement.
I had realised this special power of my eyes very early in life and always used it to the desired effect. Even the seniors believed me and came under the impression that four of us were absolutely innocent. It was actually a war between Bhaskar and their friend.
Baju tortured the ‘gentleman’ for an hour with a lecture on morality and public behaviour and why we Indians should not display our emotions in public. Bhaskar was forced to say sorry and was later slapped generously in the TV room, which used to be the punishment room for first-year students.
I needed a scapegoat to save my skin, and happily sacrificed Bhaskar. Soon, he forgot all the slaps he had received, but could not forget a friend like me. None can ever. Gang of five fell apart that night and I started devoting my time to movies.
Little did I realise that gang of six was waiting for me.
posted by Writwik | 7:48 pm
2 Comments:
Great! Who knows how many bakras are still following the road to Hades shown by you after drinking the sprinkles from the river of Lethe in the form of your addictive,albeit deadly,jokes!
Did that become 'one for all and all for one'--I mean the gang of six?..Your memoirs ends with an anticipation;the proud honesty also does not seem to be repulsive enough...May be because :
'Eiyetu Cotton
Duchokut xani diye
Swapnor anjon...!'
I guess you should not feel sad because you are gettig 'old'and start writing more of your Cottonian Days.But do follow some sort of chronology in the write ups.
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