Chapter 4

The school of my memory was frighteningly different from that of this reality. The school of my memory did not remind me of the merciless pushing and jostling of hundreds of boys as they raced for their classes. Mumbai locals were nothing compared to this, I was left thinking as I gripped my bag closer. The water bottle had been quietly ditched way back in the car.

Worse, I had no idea where the hell I was supposed to go? As I stood there, looking across the field barren of the concrete stands, the awnings etc of the future, I was rudely poked in the back. And it was quite a hard poke too. I swung around and grabbed the shirt of the guy behind,

“The f**k are you doing? Who…” I started, but did not get to finish as I stared at the guy whose shirt I was holding.

The guy was about four feet high and had a grin larger than himself. I mean, I was done staring and getting surprises since morning, but looking at my dentist in a school uniform is a bit unsettling. I last saw this ass about a week ago for my bi-annual dental check ups and the grin was a permanent fixture.

“Now, what’s the matter with you, you big oaf? You look like your eyes are going to pop out.” He squeaked.

Ah, I am not alone. Well met by sunlight, fellow squeaker, I thought.

“Mr. A. Deka, I presume,” I said

“Well presumed, shall we presume that walking is an option and not missing morning assembly is also an option?” the gnome cheekily retorted.

I could only grin and follow him.

The stairs were horribly crowded and it seemed that my classroom was way up on the top of the bloody building. Huffing and puffing, I reached the top and took a breather.

“You really need to move fast, we have to run.” I liked this guy, he did not comment on my obvious bulk.

That gnome could really move his ass. He had parked his bag and was back by the time I was done puffing. I looked up as I entered the classroom, VII C, the plaque stated. I parked my coolie bag on the desk where I could see A’s bag was lying despondently and ran out with him as the bell sounded.

Morning assembly in Don Bosco was a ritual, much like most missionary schools. We stood in lines in the corridors, accorded by class and size. The whole thing was an exercise in futility but the captains of the classes tried. Oh yeah, we had captains, vice captains, games captains, the whole shooting match and a rather harried looking lot they were too. A voice was shouting us into attention and no one took much notice. I was fast becoming uncomfortable with the continuous jostling and pushing and fidgeting.

Anyway, amidst a lot of shuffling, coughing, and other general chaotic noise, the principal clad in a white cassock, walks onto the dais in the front of the lines and starts off with the morning prayers into the mike placed there. We chant out the Lord’s Prayer in absolute disharmony and tempo. This done, the principal addresses a few words to us which I completely missed out. Then, a short dark man shouted us into attention and dismissed us back to our classes.

As we filed out towards our classes, I could make out the faces of the principal and the short dark man who shouted us into attention and later dismissed us. Damn, I recognised both of them. The principal was a pretty handsome guy who was supposed to be very charismatic and many said that he was the one who got the funds together for the massive central edifice and auditorium that was being built now, only he quit the school and the fatherhood over some issue about some girl or something. He and my dad were quite friendly, if I remembered correctly. The short dark man was Mr. Larzar, our school drill sergeant and sports instructor. He had a wicked cane when we were kids and a very affable manner when we grew up and out of school.

All this just flashed through my mind as I shuffled past the dais.

We filed into class and sat in the benches, three boys to one desk. It was not a comfortable fit and I was used to working on an industrial sized table. Must have picked up that fancy after squatting on these monstrosities for twelve years. A sits down in the middle and starts digging into his bag for books as the other occupant arrived and sat down. The fellow was familiar but I could not quite place him, so I generally compromised with a fast grin as I asked A what class we were having.

“English, what’s wrong with you?” he muttered

“Nothing, just not feeling well.” I muttered back.

A bell sounded again and another dark fellow, obviously the teacher walked into the class with some books. As I looked up, I did a double take. It was X, an old, old, enemy who harassed me in school for not attending his tuition classes and when I tried to get even by playing the joker in his class, he took out his frustration on my brother and cousin even years after I had passed out. I finally got even with him much later with expulsion and criminal proceedings against him for molestation but that’s way into the future. He was here now and I was not ready yet.

“Homework on my desk, please” stated X, in south Indian accents. Gods, where did thy dig up such specimens to teach English?

A pulls out his exercise book, so I fished around for mine in the bag. Unsuccessfully however.

Shit. No homework done, I am in deep trouble.

We used to have this hated thing called calendars in school, a small notebook kind of thing. It had pages where the teachers could write in for offences like being late, insubordination, general mutiny and no homework done. The worse thing was, if the teacher wrote in it, you had to get it signed by your parents. That’s where the trouble started.

Okay, what did I have to work with? Hmmmm…

I stood up and walked up to X’s desk with no books in sight.

“If you’ll forgive the intrusion, could I have a word, sir?”

X nearly jumped up at the words. He was accustomed to sullen homework-less boys, accustomed to silence but direct speech had an interesting effect on him.

“Yes, not done your homework, as usual.” He managed though the words came out more like Yaaais, nooo hooomwok dunnn, aaas usuaal

There was pin drop silence in the class, no one wanted to miss any fun provided.

“Not really sir, I was taken to have some medical tests for gastroenteritis and a possible peptic ulcer, hence I was unable to complete the given assignment. If required I could provide medical transcripts or even my prescription tomorrow if you please.”

I thanked my old professor of forensic jurisprudence and medical toxicology who made me go through an entire dictionary of common illnesses one term for pulling some prank in his class.

X was rendered speechless. I believe the medical jargon was a bit too much, but I had remembered in time that this was one fellow who loved bombastic words, so I liberally applied myself.

“I must express regret and apologize for the intrusion, sir and sincerely am repentant for not being in a condition to terminate my assignment”

X just settled for nodding his head and motioned for the next boy to bring forward his homework.

I walked back to my desk with a wooden face and sat down. A instantly whispered to me

“You okay? Seriously what’s wrong with your gas-tro –whatever?”

“Chill dude, faked it.” I murmured back looking straight at X, who was intently watching me. Years of law school, later law practice and hundreds and thousands of meetings taught me the art of talking without moving my lips and in a rather sibilant whisper which does the job rather well.

“Chilled milk? You want cold ‘doodh’ now? What..” A started

“Shut up. Now.” I murmured

X was looking rather intently at me, but to be honest, in a 70 strong class full of fidgety and restless boys was no sinecure. I almost felt sorry for him, almost. I remembered my younger cousin and later my brother coming home with long faces due to his public harassment in class. Almost, not quite.

The subject was English, taught to us vide a textbook containing short stories and poems by famous authors and poets, respectively. The class was deadly boring, but I had already dozed through drier country of civil procedural law with my eyes open. The questions now assailed my mind, ever since I realised this morning that I was not dreaming and was back in the past. My past.

What was I doing here? What was happening? This is not a movie or even some stupid music album, but slowly the scene was getting to me. I could look around and tell the futures of half the class. The other half I did not know, which in a way reminded me how isolated my school years were. I stole looks around and saw young faces, some showing the proud young traces of beards and mustaches. What’s the point of all this?

After 45 minutes of mutilating a famous O. Henry story, the bell sounded and I was never so happy to hear it ring.

X quickly picked up his books and left the room as A turned towards me, but I got started before he could;

“I am sorry, really sorry. Did not want to give him another chance, see?”

“What’s the matter with you? You are not behaving like the person I know.” A replied.

“I don’t know, I don’t know what is the matter with me.”

“He is finally growing up, that’s what is the matter with him.” This from the background…..

Yay, I had forgotten the then-hated back-bencher’s, bane of my existence in school, though useful acquaintances later on. I didn’t dare turn my head back for a full minute before deciding on what to do.

I thought to myself, I’m back in my past (definitely an overdose of Spielberg’s earlier movies) AND I remember my future….this could be FUN – I just had to figure out how!!!

I shifted my not-inconsiderable bulk backwards and side-whispered “you’re not going to believe what happened last night. I’ll explain in the break”

There was incredulous silence and finally a snort as we arose again to wish the next teacher “Goooooooooooood Maaaarrrnniiiiinnnng Saaaaaar”

A quick look at A’s textbook showed that it was Social Studies, an amalgamation of civics, history and political science.

Ah….. the subjects that catapaulted me to law school and beyond….

The teacher was a beloved one, I remember him from my future as being the most vocal supporter of mine in the regular PTA meetings. Of course, in class he was a holy terror, by the name of Phillip Thipthorpe. He was the youngest of a clan of 3 brothers who terrorized hundreds of bosconians while grounding the basics into our thick skulls and it was only years later we realized what a bunch of sweethearts they were.

Uh oh, sweetheart was heading right at me. This was NOT a man to cross. A huge wasp had alighted once on his French beard while he was explaining a democratic election process. The man just twitched his jaw and went on lecturing while the surprised wasp flitted off. That incident became part of the lore surrounding the fearsome reputation of Mr. Phillip Thipthorpe, B.Ed.

“Heard that you have got gastroenteritis and a possible peptic ulcer, Goswami?” he growled through his famed French beard. Something I would copy years later. However that was neither now or then. I gulped and nodded.

“No doubt, you will be happy to explain exactly what are the symptoms of your particular illness?” came the next broadside.

Oh boy, here we go again….

“Access secretion of bile, involuntary oral emission, severe pain and possible issues of diarrhea leading to internal inflammation of either the abdominal cavity or the rectal passageway….”, I gabbled out in automatic mode.

“Enough!!!” shouted Phillip sir.

As I first ventured to eyeball him, I could see the poor man’s face redden and look suspicious.

“You seem quite well versed in medical lore. Not to mention, having acquired a different diction and enunciation, Goswami. How is your history today?”

“Er, no sir…”

“What’s this, yes sir, no sir – come, come, let’s have the salient features of the revolt of 1857” Phillip sir smirked.

“Erm, sir….sorry sir” I belatedly tried a retreat.

“You’ll be cured of your tummy illness soon enough if you cannot answer boy” growled he, looking meaningfully at the cane on his desk.

THAT was NOT acceptable, shrieked my abused brain and my mouth went on auto-pilot

“Sir, the revolt of 1857 or the first war of Indian independence as coined by Subhas Chandra Bose, was an amalgamation of a variety of factors leading up to the situation and resulting in the eventual eviction and termination of the East India Company and India, as it was to a status under the rule of the British monarchial system and being a part of the British Empire. The factors involved could be noted as being divided into 5 causes; political, economic, social, historical, and finally the immediate cause, i.e. the Lee Enfield Cartridge or more specifically its outer casing enclosed in fat. The causes as stated would be political initially evolving from Dalhousie’s infamous Doctrine of Lapse, rendering….”

“ENOUGH!!!” bellowed Phillip Sir

I almost cowered, shut my eyes and braced myself for the worst. After a few moments of silence, I opened my eyes to see Mr. Phillip Thipthorpe, B.Ed, goggling at me bug-eyed and the entire class following suit. That man was a walking coronary, my analytical brain stated, observing his almost puce-color. Finally the colour abated as the classroom whispers started and he walked back to his table. I was going to get a proper whacking, I thought to myself, hoping to steel myself beforehand. However, he picked up the class textbook, left the cane alone (whew!!!) and walked back to me.

“You will get up and come with me. Now. Class captain to mind the class.” Beckoning me outside, Mr. Phillip left the room.

I looked at A who was staring at me goggle-eyed and silently picked myself up and trudged out. I could hear the birds chirping outside and thought, birds chirping in Panbazaar – that’s something I had completely forgotten.

Mr. Phillip stood outside the classroom and gestured for me to walk beside him. I had no choice but to comply.

“So, Goswami, been doing a little reading, have we?” he asked in quite a normal voice.

“Not really, no sir” I ventured, looking at the floor. It was an old scuffed cement floor, but it seemed safer than looking anywhere else.

“Come, come boy, you’re not usually that attentive in class and you hardly bother with homework. That answer was not really your style, is it? So, tell me, where did you read it and how did you memorize it.”

“Not sure sir” I tried, “Perhaps some of your lessons got through my head subliminally?”

“Subliminally? And how does that work?” voiced the man towering above me. I wondered how tall I was. I would grow to an inch beyond 6 feet and remember Mr. Phillip as being of average height. I was lost in thought as I answered “The basic principle of absorbing ideas or facts or even desires via a medium such as…..”

I stopped. At that moment, I knew I was in trouble. This was after all a conversation with a kid in Class Seven that Phillip Sir was having, that too in the late nineties, not with an adult from the 21^st century. I mean, hello, even internet was going to take a few years to get into gear – man, I wish I was old enough to buy shares……all this flashed by my mind in a flicker as Phillip sir, stopped at the end of the corridor and faced me.

“What exactly did you say?” he asked, in a mild-before-eruption voice

“Nothing sir….Sorry sir” I squeaked out, hating and blessing the squeak in turns.

I was confused….should I behave like a dolt and pretend to not know anything….should I try to explain ? Naaah…..bad idea, no one would even believe me, much less allow me to disprove their belief in reality. I could hardly believe it myself, for cryin’ out loud.

“Is there something you might want to talk about, boy?” asked Mr. Phillip in a far gentler voice than I had ever heard.

“N-no sir, n-nothing, thank you” I stammered out, not daring to look up.

There was no way I am going to spill the beans.

The rest of the class went by in a blur as did the ones after that. I was too dazed by events to actually realize when the bloody recess bell rang till I felt a hard poke at the back of my neck. Reacting instinctively, I whirled around, impulses glad to be let loose. Before I had realized, my lips had pulled back into a feral grin in anticipation of violent release and my fists were clenched as I turned; and looked into a pair of eyes which mirrored fear and uncertainty in no small measure. That served to jolt me back to my senses. Looking beyond the eyes, I realized that I was about to launch myself at one of my recent board members called Amitabh .

This was a man, sorry, boy I had reason to suspect…..part of my original board, he had taken advantage of my absence and tried to get his dirty paws on as much easy cash lying around. Rumoured to be connected with the various disbanded extremist factions, he had nothing but brute force and fear to aid him in his nefarious activities. I had used the leverage of a number of pending criminal investigations and his own unsavoury reputation to dislodge his ill-gotten gains.

Dark, swarthy and chubby as a boy, the years would not be kind to him, but here he was in my past, a typical bully scavenging on the weak and scared. And I had just committed the cardinal sin of scaring him on his own ground WITH witnesses.

Bad move, I told myself, buy time…but I was unwilling to back down, especially to a bully. Unclenching my fists, I still kept the grin on my face, only not showing so many teeth.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Amitabh, showing his own grimy teeth, already in the process of being stained by his new habit of chewing gutka.

I shrugged and kept quiet and looked at Anupam for some kind of inspiration.

Bad move.

I suddenly felt my collar and upper body jerked backwards. This time, I didn’t hesitate and laid hold of the arm gripping my collar and slammed my open palm into its elbow. It was a knee jerk reaction and one that took the owner of the arm by complete surprise.

The next thing I felt was Anupam pushing me away from the bench and outside the class, as Amitabh roared with pain and shame on the floor.