Indulgance

Kanjur Marg, where I spent my formative days, was (and probably still is) blue coller worker community, consisting mostly poor and lower-middle class families. I used to go to Vikhroli to attend school. Due to the factors like economic and social background, the company I enjoyed would not be exactly approved by 'marathi brahman pandharpesha' community. I was, however, having a great time. 'Vasarat Langdi Gaay Shahaani'! I used to figure in top 5. That was novelty for me. Quite a few friends of mine were pretty over-age, prone to getting in street-fights. Our division belonged to technical schooling, involving carpentry, smithy, leath work, electric circuits, engineering drawing. No girls. It used to be no holds barred. Even some of our male teacher used to crack noughty jokes.

When we entered 10th standard, Mrs. Vanzari, assumed responsibility of handling our class (besides teaching Marathi). Considering the raging bulls rampaging in the class, she was quite capable administrator. We used to idolize her.

Our school-term was nearing end. We friends were itching to do something before the group would break up (after 10th graduation). A plan was hatched up. Incidentally, my father was in hospital for appendix operation during that time. I went to our teacher, and made an excuse that I want to go to hospital to see my father. I lied to our teacher! 5-7 of us, bunked the school after lunch recess. We went to one of the guy's house. Someone had procurred 'Bombay Pilsnor'. We had beer that day! I drank about half a glass. I was actually scared of getting drunk or smelling.

I remember, my cousines were visiting that time and I actually boasted of my advanture to them. Not sure if they believed me.

This is not really the incident worth remembering. What I remember is, what I did on the next day.

As the day wore on, I started getting guilty-pangs. Afterall, we used to nearly worship our teacher, and I lied to her. Next day morning I reached school, wrekked up in my little emotional turmoil. Guilt aside, however, I did not want to betray my friends.

I saw our teacher arriving, made up my mind, and asked her if I could speak with her. I confessed that I had lied about visiting my father, and I actually bunked the class for no reason. I did not have courage to confess our indulgance though. She remained silent for sometime, taking in my audacity. She didn't blow up the issue but made sure I understood gravity of my mistake. My respect for her grew even more. I sure felt light-headed afterwards.