whole class joined in. Gurpreet gave him a triumphant smile and winked at Vicky.
‘Like I said yesterday, I’m impressed,’ said Raven. ‘I knew you could do it.’ Then he addressed his students before leaving. ‘Class is dismissed now. Don’t be late tomorrow.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the students drawled as he left the classroom. They began to crowd around the desk, plying Gurpreet with endless questions. The room was filled with a buzz of voices.
After most of the students had left, Gurpreet looked around the classroom. Vicky and Mili were still there. He walked up to Vicky and said, ‘Ma’am, aren’t you going to say something? Everybody was full of praise …’
‘It was—’ Mili started to speak but Vicky interrupted.
‘Umm …’ she said, as she deliberately looked him over – from his turban to the two white streaks on his waistcoat where he had wiped his chalky fingers, the patch on the kurta, the dirty pyjamas and the old slippers.
Gurpreet grimaced and rubbed a hand consciously over his stubble.
‘I might have said something if you weren’t dressed as a vagabond,’ replied Vicky haughtily. She looked him over again and said, ‘Your appearance spoilt the whole show,’ and walked off, followed by Mili.
The next morning, Gurpreet was slouched over his desk at home, when Jatin entered his room.
‘Gurpreet? You’re drinking? That too in the morning?’ he said, alarmed.
‘Shh, shut the door, you moron. Maji will hear.’
‘But why are you drinking? Is something the matter?’
Gurpreet did not answer but looked at the plate of green chillies. He picked up one, twirled it around before putting it in his mouth, then took a sip of whisky. Then he bit into another chilli. He felt it explode in his mouth. Eating green chillies like this with whisky gave him a kick. Like a bomb exploding in the face of an Angrez.
‘Bloody Angrez,’ he muttered, twirling a green chilli.
‘Who? Raven Sir? Why do you hate him so? He has always been good to us.’
‘Jatin, you don’t know what I know. All these firangis are brutes. Animals. Bloody palefaces.’
‘That’s not true, Preeto,’ replied Jatin. ‘You have no idea how much he has helped Vidushi.’
‘He wasn’t helping Vidushi, Jatin,’ said Gurpreet. ‘He just wanted to convert her. That’s what they want to do with all of us – either destroy our religion or convert us. That’s why he sent her to that orphanage run by Catholic nuns. Now, how is the orphanage different from the ashram?’
‘I’ll tell you how it’s different,’ replied Jatin. ‘She doesn’t have to live like a starving, shivering beggar any more. She has proper clothes to wear and food to eat. She doesn’t have to shave her head. Do you know how humiliating it is for a woman to have to shave her head? And most important – she can study again.’
‘How do you know all these things?’ asked Gurpreet.
‘I just do,’ Jatin answered softly.
Gurpreet gulped down another mouthful of whisky.
‘Look, if you don’t stop drinking, I’m going,’ said Jatin.
Gurpreet grabbed his hands. ‘Jatin, my yaara, I need your help. Will you come with me to the shops?’
‘What? You? You want to go shopping? You’re drunk, Gurpreet, I’m leaving.’
‘No. I’m serious. I need better clothes. That chit of a girl … that Vicky. How dare she taunt me?’
Jatin smiled as he fiddled with the gramophone that stood on a table near Gurpreet’s bed. ‘Are you in love?’
Gurpreet finished the remaining drink in his glass. He sniffed. Even his clothes smelt of whisky. He needed a bath.
‘I don’t know. But I’ve never felt this way for a girl before.’
Jatin chuckled. ‘First of all, you need a good shave. And since how many days have you not washed these pyjamas?’
‘Hey, stop playing mother. I’ve already got one to nag me.’
‘You want me to help you or not?’ said Jatin pulling Gurpreet to his feet. ‘First stop – Kallu
‘Like I said yesterday, I’m impressed,’ said Raven. ‘I knew you could do it.’ Then he addressed his students before leaving. ‘Class is dismissed now. Don’t be late tomorrow.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the students drawled as he left the classroom. They began to crowd around the desk, plying Gurpreet with endless questions. The room was filled with a buzz of voices.
After most of the students had left, Gurpreet looked around the classroom. Vicky and Mili were still there. He walked up to Vicky and said, ‘Ma’am, aren’t you going to say something? Everybody was full of praise …’
‘It was—’ Mili started to speak but Vicky interrupted.
‘Umm …’ she said, as she deliberately looked him over – from his turban to the two white streaks on his waistcoat where he had wiped his chalky fingers, the patch on the kurta, the dirty pyjamas and the old slippers.
Gurpreet grimaced and rubbed a hand consciously over his stubble.
‘I might have said something if you weren’t dressed as a vagabond,’ replied Vicky haughtily. She looked him over again and said, ‘Your appearance spoilt the whole show,’ and walked off, followed by Mili.
The next morning, Gurpreet was slouched over his desk at home, when Jatin entered his room.
‘Gurpreet? You’re drinking? That too in the morning?’ he said, alarmed.
‘Shh, shut the door, you moron. Maji will hear.’
‘But why are you drinking? Is something the matter?’
Gurpreet did not answer but looked at the plate of green chillies. He picked up one, twirled it around before putting it in his mouth, then took a sip of whisky. Then he bit into another chilli. He felt it explode in his mouth. Eating green chillies like this with whisky gave him a kick. Like a bomb exploding in the face of an Angrez.
‘Bloody Angrez,’ he muttered, twirling a green chilli.
‘Who? Raven Sir? Why do you hate him so? He has always been good to us.’
‘Jatin, you don’t know what I know. All these firangis are brutes. Animals. Bloody palefaces.’
‘That’s not true, Preeto,’ replied Jatin. ‘You have no idea how much he has helped Vidushi.’
‘He wasn’t helping Vidushi, Jatin,’ said Gurpreet. ‘He just wanted to convert her. That’s what they want to do with all of us – either destroy our religion or convert us. That’s why he sent her to that orphanage run by Catholic nuns. Now, how is the orphanage different from the ashram?’
‘I’ll tell you how it’s different,’ replied Jatin. ‘She doesn’t have to live like a starving, shivering beggar any more. She has proper clothes to wear and food to eat. She doesn’t have to shave her head. Do you know how humiliating it is for a woman to have to shave her head? And most important – she can study again.’
‘How do you know all these things?’ asked Gurpreet.
‘I just do,’ Jatin answered softly.
Gurpreet gulped down another mouthful of whisky.
‘Look, if you don’t stop drinking, I’m going,’ said Jatin.
Gurpreet grabbed his hands. ‘Jatin, my yaara, I need your help. Will you come with me to the shops?’
‘What? You? You want to go shopping? You’re drunk, Gurpreet, I’m leaving.’
‘No. I’m serious. I need better clothes. That chit of a girl … that Vicky. How dare she taunt me?’
Jatin smiled as he fiddled with the gramophone that stood on a table near Gurpreet’s bed. ‘Are you in love?’
Gurpreet finished the remaining drink in his glass. He sniffed. Even his clothes smelt of whisky. He needed a bath.
‘I don’t know. But I’ve never felt this way for a girl before.’
Jatin chuckled. ‘First of all, you need a good shave. And since how many days have you not washed these pyjamas?’
‘Hey, stop playing mother. I’ve already got one to nag me.’
‘You want me to help you or not?’ said Jatin pulling Gurpreet to his feet. ‘First stop – Kallu
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