Gone are the "peacock" days

G2wx...grM7
31 Oct 2022
27



After I passed class 10, my father's expectations of me increased. He started daydreaming that his son would at least become an engineer and immediately catch the first plane and go to America. They started walking around the colony with their collars up as if those dreams had come true. Well I got only sixty nine percent marks. In mathematics, I was like a sailor on a ship caught in a storm. I was teetering on the brink of thirty-five points of mathematics, like a half-dead sailor who, caught in a flounder, busily battered by storms and waves, finally reaches the shore by God's grace. After five years in science, I still didn't understand Archimedes' theory. Why did Archimedes run away shouting 'Eureka, Eureka,' without taking off his clothes? Was he shouting Eureka, Eureka or Yu Rekha, Yu Rekha? Getting stuck in the cycle of science and math again? Dad! But because he was my only financier, I was helpless. Finally, I took admission in 11th science.

After entering college, I fixed my strategy. We don't want to fall short anywhere. Attend all lectures dutifully, take notes and most importantly pay no attention to girls. The result was what it was meant to be. I passed the first test successfully.

What I am writing here is not a listicle of "10 keys to success" in college. Nor is it how I finally understood Archimedes' theory. This is from my maths sir.

I realized at the end of the term how great my maths sir was. At first I (indeed everyone) suspected that they must be very intelligent. Since maths was everyone's weak point, in the beginning he used to have 100% attendance in his class. Our seniors were shocked when they saw it.

“Do you understand what he teaches? No, isn't it? So why do you pass the time? If you plan to fail, then it's okay. If you want to pass, go and take Udgir sir's class.”

After this, the attendance was 80 percent.

If it was maths class, the seniors used to throw small stones at us from the window. Some used to pass some comments. They used to call names.

“Ay Joshya, I+Lya. Are you going to be an Einstein?”

“Oh a padwal, tea is waiting in the canteen.”

“Martandya, we are going to the matinee. If it comes, let's hurry."

Sir used to take the presentation when he came to the class. When the presentation was made, half of the children would run away from Sir's sight. One day after presenting, Sir said, “Those who don't want to sit in my class, please leave. Now those who want to go can go.”

From that day the class attendance increased to twenty percent. Twenty percent are girls in that class. And I among the children. I was very embarrassed. But I was determined. I used to feel sorry for Sir. poor sir The world considers people who are simple, straightforward. People who walk around with six paws, one outside the other, playing their own chimes are considered intelligent by the society.

Gradually the class attendance dropped to one percent. This one percent is me. I was sincerely sitting in Sir's class alone. My friends tried to convince me.

“Oh, don't you worry about attendance. After paying a fine of five rupees in your college, they will give you a university form. If you don't have five rupees, we will give it. Then it happened. Oh, even timid kids don't fit the class.” But I didn't die. I didn't want to go to Baba and ask for money for Udgir sir's class. Baba would have given the money but by listening to a burning sermon. The father would have kept reminding him for the rest of his life.

“Then you see these days because I paid the fee.”

They conveniently forget that if Baba had made that 'great break' of his own mind "then", he would not have had to see me for a single day. Of course, as I am one of those who call Father Pitashri, I cannot say so openly.

Instead of all this mental torture, I could listen to Sir's lecture here with my heart. Finally my friends gave up on me.

This sir had a joke. Although I used to sit alone in his class, he used to teach as if there were a hundred children sitting in the class. I was sitting on the front bench but they hardly paid any attention to me. They used to stop in the middle, " Hey Thombre, what is your difficulty?" Thombare used to sit in the canteen serving tea. Here sir used to "understand" the difficulty of "Manya Thombare" and cleared his doubts. Sometimes sir used to throw chalk at “someone”, “Keep the mobile aside. Pay attention to what I am saying. Your dad didn't pay to send you to college to play games.”

On such occasions, I used to feel sorry for Sir. Why don't you sell gram pods outside Sir Park?

Finally the year is over. It was Sir's last class. Sir sincerely “All

Best wishes to the class.

Exams were conducted on time. Results came. I passed in first class with good marks in mathematics. Got more marks than the boys going to Udgir sir's class, I was happy and went to meet sir with Pedha. Sir was sitting alone in the common room. Seeing me, Sir raised his eyebrows, "Who are you?"

I got a bit sour, “Sir I was sitting on the first bench in your class.”

The tube must have caught fire in Sir's head. “Oh yes, you Prabhudesai. How can I forget you? Did you see the result? How many marks did you get?”
I was about to say lame and ace but caught myself just in time, “Sir seventy one. Your grace" I touched Sir's feet and moved the peddha, "Sir look at this. I took all your lecture notes. Diagram Gross.” I showed the notes to Sir. Sir was amazed to see my notes in legible letters and colorful diagrams. After that sir gave me a bump.

“Prabhudesai, I am pleased with you. Should be a disciple. In our culture the disciples give Gurudakshina to the Guru. Today I am going to give you shishyadakshina. I am pleased with you and give you three blessings. Ask for what you want from these three grooms.”

I managed to suppress my laughter. Sir must either be mocking me, or he must have got it. My suspicions that Sir was a crackpot were now confirmed. So I don't know what to say, how to say. At last Sirach said, “You don't believe what I am saying. That's how it is. No one believes a man who speaks the truth. My Guruji knows very well what is in your mind. You don't have the courage to speak openly. Then I bless you that your heart's desire will be fulfilled. Go, God bless you.”

“Sir, your teacher?”

“Yes my teacher! That Guruji who gave my life a mathematical twist. That Guruji who is eternally intact. Trikala-afflicted truth rolls at their feet. His feet sanctify the truth like a dog at his feet...”

They kept saying many such things. I thought I just beat Sir. Finally, by God's mercy, Sir's praise of Guruji ended.

Now Sir chanted a mantra like Abracadabra. Gestures madly in the air.

At that moment the only thought in my mind was that Sir has not gone mad. I left after saying goodbye to sir. Walking through the verandah of the college easily caught my attention. Lata Ukidwe was standing among her friends.

Lata Ukidwe was a college topper. Her father is Sardar Ukidwe. As the ancestors of Sardar Ukidve achieved some feat in some battle, the Peshwa government gave them some villages around. Now all those villages went to the throat of the builder but the earned money was gargantuan. He was growing by investing here and there with wisdom. There was only one “student” in the college who came in a long Studebaker car. That is Lata! Lata was not only rich but also one in a million in looks. Now that I could never get a good look at her as she did not dare to look up, it would be a gross injustice to her to describe her beauty in vain. How much more fun it would have been if she was my friend. But immediately her Studebaker and my lame “Humber Barsotak Chalegi” cycle came into view. Her father Sardar Ukidwe and my shrine Divisional Accountant in PWD! Where Indra's Airavat and where Shambhata's Tattani. Out went.

As usual, half ignoring the group of beauties, I was thinking of cutting

Meanwhile, Lata left her friends and marched towards me. I must have felt that. So I was looking for someone behind me.

“Hey Kunda, I'm talking to you.” Such sweetly spoken words came to my ears. Now it is true that my name is Mukand. I have never heard of it being so corrupted. So this sentence was meant not for me but for her friend named Lata Kuna Kunda.

“Kundu Prabhudesai, wake up my king, I am talking to you,” she held my hand. I felt like a 440 volt shock. “I heard from Malan that you got Distinction in Maths! Why didn't you tell me this sweet news before everyone else? You have become a liar. You are not paying attention to me today. You didn't fall into that witch's net, did you?”

“No c latu. I can't think of anyone else except you." I went with the flow now.

“Come on my king. This calls for celebration, let us celebrate!” She grabbed my hand and forced me into her long car, “Take me to the park.” He ordered the driver in such terse words. Even the AC of the car made me sweat in her company. Yes, in some corner of my mind I wanted her friendship. But what was going on was inevitable. The result of Sir's boon?

“Kunda, what's with your hair braided like Shammi Kapoor? You don't like this style at all. What would I think if people mistook you for a motherly loafer? I have told you a thousand times how good you look with a middle parting my king.” Saying this she opened her purse and took out a comb, held my face with her left hand and combed my hair. He remembered how my mother used to molest me as a child. Now all that was left was to plant Titi.

“Look how cute you look, look at that witch. Wait you get black tikka,” she took out a pencil from her purse and put black tikka on my forehead under my hair. Fortunately, Park came and stopped my make-up program. The driver got down and opened the door of the long carriage. Me and Lata got out of the car.
Outside the main gate of the park there were carts of bhele, ice cream, vada pav, cold and hot drinks. Revelers were sitting on the benches and chairs arranged on the sides and enjoying the food and drinks. Instinctively, my attention was drawn to Bhaiyya, who was selling gram pods. With a blanket on his shoulder, he used to sing “chana jor garam babu mai laya maaat” in a raspy voice and tied puddis for four or five people standing around. I suspected something, so if I looked closely, it was our math teacher. Yes, sometimes I used to think that "Why don't you sell chickpeas outside Sir Park instead?" This result? I was very angry. I felt ashamed. Sir had waited for himself by giving me as a bridegroom. Of course, they handed me over to Lata and waited for me. I was responsible for what had happened and was going on. The unsatisfied desires of my own heart were coming true. I strongly wanted to go closer and have a word with Sir but because of Lata I was unable to do so.

Lata wrapped my hand in hers. (Would it be like the traps used to catch wild animals in the forest? They get the animal's legs stuck in them, here my hand was stuck.) Lata now gently said "Let this moment in life be like this." Something like that was sung. Did you ask for my wristwatch? I ignored her.

“So when do we do it?” Lata was asking me. I panicked and on high alert.

"Hey, what are you looking at?" We had discussed everything yesterday. Let's decide today that you promised. Your parents, my parents consent. Baba has also fixed the time. Seventeen May is beneficial to both of us. He has also held preliminary talks with the office. Everyone is just waiting for your 'yes'. We want to book tickets to Switzerland.”

A little bit of light began to shine in my head. Do you want to tie this scum around your neck for the rest of your life? Am I going to be a Pomeranian lapdog? Be careful. Beware Prabhudesai.

I said theatrically, “Latu, ag lagna is the sacrifice of freedom. Let me think a little more. Tomorrow for sure. Come now, mother will be waiting.”

When she said that she was going back, Lata became bitter, “How can a dumb person understand the taste of a dumb person!”

I didn't understand what she said. "What what?"

“Didn't I speak in Tamil? How can you understand?”

We returned in her long carriage. As the car came to the intersection near my house, I said, “Leave me here. I will walk home.”

What does she say, "Now that she has come, she goes to meet her mother-in-law."

“Lata please, she is my mother. Your mother-in-law is not yet.”

“Oh, your mother is my mother-in-law. You are exactly this.” is correct I will be this. How will this be? What a madcap girl this is.

The driver parked the long car in front of our old mansion. The mischievous boys in the alley started manipulating the car by scampering around the car. It was as if he saw such an animal for the first time in his life. Here I have tension! But Lata is undeterred.

After coming home, Lata entered the kitchen, "Mother-in-law, relax. I am cooking onion." They like my kandapohe very much."
"Oh, I like him too." Mother was looking at Lata with admiration. Both of them were having fun inside. After a while mother came out. “Mukunda, you didn't tell Lata that you got good marks in maths? Oh, because of her feet you got so much success.”

I mean, I worked hard, it went flying. Good marks for Lata who failed maths four times! Violent thoughts came to my mind to show Lata my “feet”. But we fell decent. That decency came across.

Lata came with full swimming bowls. I took a swim. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Was it swimming or basundi. Did Lata put sugar in poha? Will Bapre Es Pohe entertain me for the rest of my life?

“Wow, what a nice swim you are,” mother gushed at Lata. Was the mother telling the truth or was she giving lies? There was no way to know.

“Mom, you speak so freely. And this one? Those who do not turn their tongues to say that swimming has become good. Lata was talking angrily.

“Oh he's still shy. He has been such a shy old man since childhood. Don't take anything to heart."

Now, do we need to describe what tea made from Lata will be like? I have heard that in Pune, some kind of Basundi tea is available. Even those tea lovers will see this tea, break their cups and close the shop and leave the village in shame. What a sweet swim of the creeper! Tea is sweet! The blister of the creeper is sweet!

The way out of this is to surrender to Sir. It was eight o'clock on the clock. There was still time. Got up, got dressed, took a rickshaw, went straight to the park. Sir's Chanasheng business was going well. I went a little further.

"Say, son, what do you want? Sir set aside the heated matka with khapars and started singing in a hoarse voice, “Chana jor garam babu mai laya fun.”

“Sir Mi Prabhudesai, please. Free me from the sweet grip of this Lataveli.” I came to Kakulati and begged. Sir did not pay any attention to me. Wasn't it their business time? Two or three shops were standing on the side. She was looking at me strangely. They were beaten with gram pods. Now sir got time to pay attention to me. Sir filled a paper bag and gave it to me.

"Eat and the intellect will be enlightened." Sir's face was looking rough in the light of the building, "How is he, Prabhudesai "Don't go for beauty, listen to the merits first."

“Speak up Vatsa, you still have the upper hand. Take back what you ask for.”

I joined my hands and grabbed sir's feet. "I made a mistake. Deliver me from this sweet creeper. Punishment to carry this bag of sugar for life! Don't follow me with diabetes from now on. What crime did he commit that hum lata gaye i min lut gaye?”

“Okay. as you wish But there is a problem. If I reverse your boon, I too will have to go back to college and teach math. I am doing well here. People walk around, sometimes chatting. They ask about the condition of the village. Besides, no income tax has to be paid. What a relief! What more does a man need in life!”

“Sir, but does this look good? You have a doctorate in mathematics. And you are sitting here selling chickpeas? Think for yourself. What is this justice?” I touched Sir's feelings.

My compliments made Sir melt a little, “I do this by teaching college during the day and come here in the evening to sell gram pods. You have turned my career around for good. That doesn't solve me. I will gradually increase the business. I will open a branch in front of other gardens in the village. I will quit my college job and make this business multinational. I will park at Hyde Park, Central Park, Forest Park, Luxembourg Garden, Villa Doria Pamphili. What do you think of me?"

Sir was worried about himself, I said, “Sir, your thinking is good. We Marathi people feel blessed to write proudly that "We have no branch anywhere". So sir, you have already thought about how you can expand your business in London, Paris, New York. But before that, think of me."

“Oh, I forgot. You do this now and forget this Lata matter. Have a peaceful sleep. Decide what to do with the fact that you still have a boyfriend. Think carefully and meet me at the college tomorrow morning.”

“Blessed be the Guru.” After saying this, I bid farewell to Sir with a happy heart.
woke up in the morning One mind was saying forget all this. What happened yesterday was a dream. How could a lungya sungya professor have such power. Thought let's check. Yesterday my mother was praising Lata with her mouth full. Let's see if she remembers anything. While drinking tea, he threw a pebble, "Mom, I got good marks in mathematics because of you." You were making Saturdays for me, weren't you.”

“Oh Dad, I've been doing Saturdays since before you were born. You study, your luck favors you. You got good marks.” Even the name of Lata did not come out of the mother's mouth. That was yesterday's dream.
Such was my "peacock" days in college! The days gone by.

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