Shala by Milind Bokil Page B

together in the morning itself. We have a big hall on the first floor which doubles as a laboratory. Debates and speaking competitions are also held over there. We sit in the hall, girls on one side boys on the other, with the benches acting as a divider. We are asked to enter the hall in single file to avoid any confusion.
    The students from the tenth and eleventh standards were made to sit in the front. The teachers kept a hawk eye, but the students made a ruckus as usual. We rushed in to grab the aisle seats and it was only later that I realized that Shirodkar and the girls were sitting very close to us. Phawdya and Surya were right behind me and, when I turned back to speak to them, my eyes met Shirodkar’s. She was, quite obviously, not looking at us, but I could see her every time I turned back.
    It was nice. Such programmes are meant for fun and we were least concerned with what was being said on the dais. The children who had volunteered to participate in the elocution competition were sitting in the front. There were speeches by the teachers, the chief guest and many others. We were busy with our own pranks. After all we had the girls sitting next to us—especially Shirodkar!
    The topic for elocution was the usual ‘my favourite freedom fighter’. All the oversmart boys and girls clamour to participate in the contest. From our class, Bibikar and Mirikar are the regulars. They are always ready to participate in any competition. Ghasu Gokhale is intelligent, but he does not have the nerve to face a crowd. The birdies participate in all competitions except elocution; they are a little shy when it comes to speaking in front of the boys. They know that if they falter, they will be teased to death for the rest of the year.
    Redkar sir coordinates such events. He came near the mike and, snapping his fingers, said, ‘Hello, mike testing, one-two-three-four…one-two-three-four.’
    ‘Who asked him to test the mike?’ Surya quipped as usual.
    ‘What else can he do?’ Phawdya answered.
    ‘The mike can be tested only with English words,’ I commented, looking back to see if Shirodkar had heard my repartee.
    The boys around laughed, but none of the girls joined in. They continued to stare ahead.
    ‘The students participating in the contest may please come and sit in the first row,’ Redkar sir’s voice echoed through the hall.
    The participants stood up and moved towards the front. Bibikar was sitting right ahead and he stood up dusting his trousers’ seat.
    ‘Guys, please do clap when I get up to speak, okay?’ he said, looking at us.
    ‘Let us first hear your speech, smartie,’ Surya quipped.
    The programme started with the Jayanti celebration. It was being chaired by the local Doctor Shetty while the chief guest was our mayor. This fellow has been the mayor for many years now. The state may have a Congress government, but the Opposition always manages to bag the Municipality elections. We hear that this fellow is a corrupt guy. I get to hear some of his escapades when the elders sit around and chat in our courtyard every evening. Nikam kaka works in the Municipality and has lot of information on him. He is a fair, plump, paan-chewing sort. Other than those two, the only other guest on stage was our own Annasaheb Surve. He is the secretary of the school trust and hence an attendee by default.
    Appa began his speech when the guests settled on the dais.
    ‘You children may be wondering why we need to have this function each year,’ he began. ‘It is important to remember our heroes every now and then. They have sacrificed their lives for us and borne a lot of pain and trouble for the future of this country. If we don’t remember them, who else will?’
    Just then the mike emitted a loud ‘ koooooon ’ kind of sound, echoing across the hall. That happens when someone speaks very close to the mike or speaks out loudly. Appa glared at the mike technician and then continued, ‘Today’s topic is “my