Swami's Grandson

I haven’t posted on this blog since long, and there have been many reasons for this. 

One, I have been busy with my blog, a website I am trying to create, and my feeble attempts at writing a book.

Two, at times, I felt I should write a new post, but one question troubled me: We all hail our school as the best. But doesn’t everyone think the same way? Which led me to think of our school from a third person, neutral standpoint.

Was everything rosy and happy and colourful as I was suggesting in my blog? Certainly not.

When I spoke to a few people about this, they suggested I shouldn’t write about it. They opined that people do not want to remember the bad parts, and that’s why memories are such beautiful things – they document what we want to remember, not what we want to forget.

But I differed. I think we as an audience are mature enough to digest something that is not all happy and colourful. So here goes, this is my first post of dissent.

SWAMI'S GRANDSON:

Our school was no stranger to ‘special boys’. Boys who were given a slight preferential treatment over others. These privileges ranged from an extra vada in breakfast, to the freedom to bunk classes that he was not interested in.

I could perfectly understand foreigners being given a slight preferential treatment when it came to food. It was wrong to expect someone from Europe to devour chitraannam and tomato rasam. I was also fine with some ‘special boys’ who were given special treatment because of their health conditions. Minor benefits like being allowed to bunk marching, sports practice and morning assemblies. Apart from strong envy, I harboured no grudge against these guys.

If there was one group of ‘special boys’ who pissed me off, it was these kids called ‘Swami’s Grandson’.

These guys’ claim to superstardom was the fact that they were born in Swami’s family. Some random chance happening that entitled them to a childhood of special privileges.

We had this guy who was about three years my junior. I won’t reveal his name, but those who studied around the time I did, will have no problems in guessing. This guy was the epitome of what an asshole should be like.

He was stubborn, short tempered, a bully, and was gifted with the brains of a hippopotamus. 

So while we were slogging our asses off under the hot sun for Sports Practice, this guy would be helping himself to snacks and Rasna. And when we would be performing our ‘items’ on the final day, this little clown would go around the stadium on his bicycle, like he was doing a front wheelie on the moon.

This sort of treatment angered me no end. I mean, we were made to believe that we were part of a spiritual, evolved, movement that promised no discrimination and right in front of us was this absolute good for nothing idiot who was being accorded special privileges because he happened to be born into a family.

So why do I have a grudge against this guy? For personal reasons, of course. I once had a fight with the guy, and we both were ‘taken to mam’. I won’t name her, but let it suffice to say that she was one of the more evolved ones, who spoke for hours about god and spirituality in a language that would give Shakespeare a hard-on.

After hearing both our versions of what had happened, she asked me to apologise to the guy. Seeing my shocked expression, this is what she said, “He has done great karma to be born in Swami’s family. What have you done?”

I remember being crestfallen.

But if there was one person the guy couldn’t walk all over, it was my personal hero – Warden Aunty. She hated the guy’s guts. I have seen her shout at him a number of times, and even punch him in his face. A loud, powerful, Warden Aunty special ‘Boom’ on his face. It was satisfying, to say the least.

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Now that I think about it, it wasn't the guy’s fault at all. He was made to believe he was special since his birth. He must have realised quite early in his life that he could get away with anything, and so he behaved like the sun shone out of his ass.

I wonder what he is doing now. In all probability, he is a clumsy, social misfit with no real friends. Or may be he has grown up alright.

Be as that may be, the treatment he received in school quite frankly sickened me.

The 50th Brother

You remember those Sports Days when there would be 'Bike Stunts'?

The Bike Stunts were undoubtedly the most exciting bits in the entire day.

A few weeks before the actual day, rumours about the bike stunts would begin. “You know aa, Ravi Kiran brother is going to jump over 50 brothers, ee?”

The challenge would be jump on a ramp, fly through a ring of fire, and cart across 50 guys lying down on the floor, shoulder to shoulder.

So there would be one dude, with a Royal Enfield, who would revv his bike in the corner of the field.

The commentator would add to the tension in the field. “The rider has to maintain a thin balance between the power of his motorcycle and his own riding skills. Tasks such as these are extremely dangerous and need months of rigorous practice. The sheer danger involved could test the nerves of the bravest souls.....”

The motorcycle would be revving, raising a cloud of brown dust. The audience holding their breath, murmurs of excitement flowing like ripples across the sea of people.

The noise of the motorcycle grows to deafening levels, the cloud of dust revealing a speck of black amidst the brown, and fire is set to the ring.

The guys sleeping in front of the ramp would lie still, the fire would consume the ring, a bright yellow and orange, sending off black smoke into the air.

The motorcycle would shoot forward, zoom towards the ramp, and get the elevation...

For a few seconds, the bike stayed in the air, angled upwards, and continuing to rise, as we stared open mouth...

and then land comfortably on the back wheel, amidst cheer, claps, and ooohs and aaahs. The commentator would orgasm, the roar of approval would grow louder.

The rider would dart off into the mens' gallery, the guys would get up, dust their clothes, and walk away into oblivion.

The rider would then come back to the stage, and was generally presented with a chain or a ring, and would instantly have a lot of female fan following. Which is all good.

But I have often thought, what about that guy, that unknown guy dressed in white who was the last in the line to sleep in front of the bike?

I always felt that he should have been given the prize, for it is difficult to jump across 50 guys on a bike, but it is even tougher to be the 50^th guy in the row, waiting for the damn bike to jump across you.

I sometimes wondered how they chose who would be at the end. May be the guy who pissed off the warden the most was awarded that position. May be the guys who behaved well were made to lie down near the ramp, so they could live on, and spread peace and love and humanity in the world. And the guys who pissed the warden off were made to lie at the extreme end, ready to lay their lives down for a good cause.

I don't know. But I still feel the 50^th brother should have gotten the ring and the chain!

Today is 16^th January. Classes have started again.

Sports are over and all are wearing School Dress only. Assembly just got over, and during Vedas, I was feeling damn sleepy. I felt off clever and all and sat behind the second pillar, but that Spiru bum Sai Kiran complained and aunty pulled me by my ear and made my stand outside in the Old Prayer Hall. That kuchhu is dead, you wait.

Today breakfast was Chitraannam and potato bajji. I slipped off one potato bajji under the mat. It seems in 'that school' they will give tea and coffee for breakfast, I want to go to that school and be in Bike Stunts with Big Brothers. It's really pith you ba, wearing school dress and all again. For one month, all wore home dress. It was damn nice.

But this year Sports was not so nice. Last year was better. There were so many fellows in the audience last year, this year only some fellows came. Plus na, this year, all ma'ams and all were not taking things very seriously and all.

Oojar! I never told that any ma'am told anybody that they are not taking things seriously. But Niranjan's sister who is in 11^th standard it seems heard from someone that things are not very serious and all this year. In 3^rd na, terrific it was. Full two months holiday we had, for Birthday and Sports. All these muck 1^st standard fellows are feeling off much with this year's sports only.

We guys enjoyed only, but not so much.

I was in Dance, this year. The only good thing was that most of the steps were the same from last year, so I was not there in Special Practice group. One 7^th standard brother this year got caught playing five stones and Sumati ma'am made him wear a frock and stand in the lobby. So sad for him. One more brother got caught with mobile and it seems aunty told him that he is going to get TC after Sports got over.

It seems Institute brothers are allowed to keep mobiles and laptops and all. This may be true, because now teachers don't tell us anything if we keep cricket cards with us. But WWF cards are still not allowed. And in our class, some Spiru Gurus still don't co-operate.

This year in Sports our class guys starred. Sai Rohit broke the record for juggling. His record was 3534 with three stones, and it seems he had to stop only when Bull Amma entered the dormitory. But I think he just gassed that. Because one more fellow it seems challenged him and he did till 1000 and then flew brrr.

Shubhankar Reddy rotated duff for 2 hours 16 minutes. Now that fellow keeps feeling off.

I learnt handstand this year. Now I am also in the handstand vs headstand fights. We had a lot of handstand vs headstand fights during Item-wise practice.

Nothing much, you ba. In 'that school', brothers are having Games for two hours everyday. I want to go to 'that school' fast.

MSKP Srikanth,

Class V-B