I was thinking about that one man who could make me write about him. A man who had taught me a valuable lesson about life like Prince Shakro in Maxim Gorkhy’s short story, “My fellow Traveller.” I kept bringing back memories to think of someone. Here was one person and I could sense the presence of Suraj. It was in my IX standard that Suraj joined my school. From the first day he took me under his tutelage.
A tall athletic young man, Suraj could come out on top in every fight. Suraj and me stuck together. He was not very free with money. He would get only 2 or 3 rupees every month. I was better than him in that aspect. I would get at-least ten or twenty rupees whenever my father visited me or he would send me a money order.
As the hostel food was not good, we would go out often to eat sundry things. When we had enough money we would eat parottas or cakes. When the money was getting over, we would come down to butter biscuits and bread bajjis.
Suraj never showed his money to me. As soon as he had it he would spend it on juice and cigarettes. But as I went out for my snacks, he was always there with me. I would want to eat two samosas but with Suraj by my side, I had to cut down to one and a half or sometimes to just one for Suraj usually gobbled his stuff and had an astonishing appetite. But for his cigarettes he never asked me. He would buy the cheap cigarettes that he could afford, and smoke them on the way to the school. It was from Suraj that I learned to smoke and by my tenth standard, I was as good as him in puffing smoke. Suraj never studied hard. He would laugh at me with contempt, “Hey-All you need to do for the exams is prepare bits or copy answers on to the pad. Why are you working so hard?” While we worked at the problems and theorems, he would go out in smart dresses to meet the ‘Chics” as he called the girls. But on the day of the exam, he was the first to rise. He would prepare bits carefully and fold or strap them. On some days he would simply take sheets of answer paper written by him prior to the exam and replace them. He scorned us but would not give up the race for marks and with all his devious efforts he always stood among the top five in the class.
During the exams my seat was nearly always before him and he would pester me for my answer sheets. I had to pass them to him. He would copy all the answers and return my answer sheet. Afraid of being spotted by the teachers, I generally tried to avoid but Suraj coaxed the sheets out of me. After the exam, outside the hall he would laugh at my hard work and say, “This guy studies for the entire night but he doesn’t know the answer to many questions in today’s paper ha, ha, hee, hee…”
On one occasion, I was busy writing my school annual exam in my 9th standard. Ms.Rajeswari our biology teacher was invigilating. Suraj was seated behind me and after the first half hour, he kept urging me to pass my answer paper. I had decided not to give him my answer sheet this time. He kept pleading with me. When I did not agree but kept my answer sheets carefully clipped to my pad, he threw the bits that he had brought with him under my chair. When madam passed that way, Suraj asked her to look under my chair. She asked me to stand up and said, “Raman – Hand me your answer paper.” I was unaware of what had happened, I said, “Why madam?” She asked Suraj to pick up the bits and snatched my answer paper. I was debarred from writing the Biology exam and was promoted to the tenth standard only after my father intervened. When the exam ended Suraj came out and threatened me, “See what I can do?” I could not believe he had so much malice inside after all that we had been through.
I wanted to console myself by concluding that this was the end of my friendship with Suraj and that I had nothing to do with him thereafter. I avoided seeing him. It also helped that Suraj was absent from school for nearly 3 weeks. His mother had passed away and his father had married again.
Suraj returned from home. Only he was more sullen now. Suraj’s step mother forbade him from coming home, but she sent him money liberally. Suraj’s father started a new business with the property he got from his new wife and got busy. He visited Suraj very rarely and did not spend time with him.
Suraj made calls to his home now and then but the conversation was sharp and quick. Usually it ended with Suraj asking for more money. A year and a half passed in this fashion and Suraj was now in his +2. Stepping out of puberty he had grown to be a tall, well built young man. We met very occasionally now since Suraj left the hostel and at school we were in different streams. He would acknowledge my presence but there was no _warmth in his greeting.
He was happy on the outside but I could notice that inside he was wilting. What I learnt from one of our common friends was news to me. Suraj had taken to drinking. He became irregular to school in the middle of the second year and news about him kept coming from different sources, that Suraj was on his own now, that his father had settled down in Bangalore and even the infrequent visits had dried up. I had a suspicion that Suraj’s step mother was leading him on a path of self-destruction, giving him ample amounts to spend. Was it her ploy to make Suraj a disgrace, to be disowned totally by the family?
While returning from my evening tuition class, I met Suraj one day at the bus stop. He was with other friends; a guy and a girl. He appeared to be in high spirits, joking and laughing. He spotted me and I heard him, “That’s my old hostel mate. A gutless coward.” He does only two things. He eats and studies. “I heard the girl say, “What a boring guy?” They were looking at me with contempt.
I left when my bus arrived. After two weeks, the photos of all the three I had seen in the bus stop were flashed in the papers. All three of them had been caught by the local police peddling dope. Now Suraj had got into selling dope. I hoped he had not got into the habit himself. His father came down to get the bail granted and Suraj was back at school. One evening we had assembled for the P.T. class in the school ground. Suraj was there when the class started but slipped out very quickly when the P.T. teacher was with another group. We played and practiced for over 45 minutes. I knew the reason why Suraj had slipped out; He had gone with Bhaskar and Arnold. The trio were called the Ganja batch in our school. The coconut orchard which bordered our ground, was their dope yard and although I was never invited, I had a fair idea of their doings there. Half an hour after they had left, I noticed Bhaskar and Arnold leaving quietly.
When the P.T. class was about to end we were told that the correspondent would be coming for an inspection of the class drill.
The P.T. teacher made all of us stand in rows, ready to perform the exercises and drill we had learnt from him. As soon as the class was made to fall in line, Suraj’s absence was conspicuous. Mr. Chrispus our P.T. teacher, being a kind hearted person asked us to bring Suraj. I was asked to go along with Ganesh. It was not hard to find him. He was in the coconut grove in a semi-conscious state. The drug was in complete control of him, and he was lying on the fallen coconut leaves raving.
We had hardly expected this sort of a thing. Suraj spotted us “Hey-you dirty rat. Son of a bitch. Come here – let me catch you.” He tried to get up. I was in no mood to stay there any longer. I knew that he did not like me, but the passion and the hate! But Ganesh stopped me. He said, “Let us take him to the store room and lock him up until the Correspondent leaves. Otherwise he will be rusticated.” The store room was full of old articles, torn nets, worn out ball, racquets and other articles. We carried Suraj on our shoulders and put him on a cricket mat inside the store room.
The Correspondent came and inspected the drill. She may have had some information. So she asked “Where are Suraj, Bhaskar and Arnold?” She left the school asking the P.T. teacher to report their absence the next day.
After the drill at about 7 P.M. we let out Suraj who was now a little sober. Although I refused, Ganesh took me with him. I waited outside. Suraj came out and said, “Ganesh Thank You” and shook hands with him. He didn’t greet me and simply strolled out of the school campus.
At that time of my life this complex psychological battle with Suraj’s moods and his irascible temperament kept me on the tenterhooks. I could not understand why a friend who had been my protector had turned into a bitter foe. The tussle was now on my side and the die had been cast. We had reached the last semester of our annual year and it was going to be only another three months in school after which we would go our way.
Suraj was totally absent from school now. He was always outside the school, hanging out with a few guys who were known to be professional peddlers of dope. He would flaunt his new shoes, watches and goggles at the bus stop where the girls gathered for the evening bus service.
Easy money from various sources had altered his persona. He rode a sleek motor bike and vroomed about the school campus, when the teachers were absent. I was not mature to understand his behavior at that time, but now I could see he was hurling himself down a burning pit of self destruction.
Things would have continued like that and we would have parted ways calmly if not for one incident that happened just a day before the exam. I had been late in submitting my practical record and had to stay back in school to submit it before the exam. It was nearly 9 P.M. and I was waiting for the 45A service to get back home. Suraj came running and stopped me from boarding, “Hey Raman – Keep this parcel for me. Just don’t tell anyone – I will be inside the secret chamber of the juice shop. Just come and knock on it two times. I will wait for your signal after the Police leave.”
Without waiting for my answer, he put the parcel in my school bag.
Following him two Policemen stopped near the bus stop. Out of their cordon van, they came directly to me, I knew what would happen next. I had to make a decision about Suraj and the Police. I was going to make a decision and what made Suraj think I would keep his secret. Was I the meek sacrificial lamb? Or was he the bully who could get anything he wanted out of me? Was he going to harm me? Something told me, I had no business to enter this murky deal. My former friendly self said he is your friend after all! Can you not protect him?
I was summoned by the gruff voice of Inspector Daniel Manohar, “Hey! You ? Did you see a tall guy carrying a parcel come this way?
It may have been years of hate or an involuntary action of fear, I said, “This is it sir – this parcel he put inside my bag and he is hiding in the juice shop. Tap the door 2 times. That is the signal he is waiting for –“
The Police took out a parcel containing dope from my school bag (later they would find the finger prints of only Suraj on it) Next they promptly knocked on the secret door and arrested Suraj. They handcuffed Suraj and rushed him into the cordon van.
Suraj was abusing me liberally “Wait till I’m released – I will come after you – You rat – Dirty son of a bitch” and spat at me.
I didn’t wait to see the end of the trial. My family moved out after three months and later I came to know that Suraj got 3 years of imprisonment.
I hoped he would change his path. I would not claim that I did what I did to give him a good turn. I did it only out of spite. It was a God-sent opportunity for me, a tiny fellow, to hit out at this strong man.
One does not think so deep when you are young. Now I keep thinking about him. If only someone can tell me that Suraj changed, mended his ways and has really forgotten all those dark days. Can he treat me like a friend, a well wisher? But this is a hope?