The penultimate show

[I wrote this story almost four years ago! I am posting the story as it was, four years ago. Please forgive me for any errors that might have crept in. Hope you enjoy reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.]

“Ronojoy stand up!” The words echoed in my ears, almost having a ringing effect of sorts. I made up my trademark pleading face, but even before, I could attempt to speak, PS shouted out, “Get out, you dirty prick…” Shaking off my lethargy, I arose; this had become a daily routine for me, “Asshole!” I muttered under my breath. The mellifluous tune, which I was humming in my head, got distracted as I heard another scream.

“What! Master Ronojoy did you say anything?” he roared out, speaking in a typical archaic tone. ‘PS’ or Promothesh Sen (Police Station as we called him, you can guess why!) because of the air of authority he carried around himself; almost like a bio-suit. He hated defiance like any other teacher; me being one of such defiant boys always got his curses.

“Did you say something, Ronojoy? “He inquired, staring queerly at my eyes through his big, black, round, primordial spectacles. I felt he almost gorged up my soul; “I was going out, as you said” was all I could muster at that moment.

After 40 minutes of agonizing pain in the Tiffin period

Shilajeet: Man, I saw, rather heard and saw Devjeet make a sound deliberately so you may have PS’s wrath-you have been getting that a lot recently. He wants to be in PS’s good books, I could clearly foresee.

Me: I was watching Sujata concentrate on Julius Ceaser, her locks of hair breaking her concentration; she slowly removed the locks behind her earlobe, which I think is…

My sentence remained incomplete, akin my love for her because no one could evoke such feelings when a quarrel was going in the class. Shilajeet was my best friend; we were man in arms, brothers from different mothers. He had already instigated Devjeet to fight and by the time I ran and went beside him, he had already taken one punch on his face. I jumped on Dev hitting him with random, arbitrary shots. He did not miss any opportunity to return the favor and I was hit a few times too.

Someone grabbed me by my collar and my eyes met the same pair of eyes that gorged a part of my soul earlier- PS was the Coordinator in charge of the whole floor our class was. Though getting caned lashes were no good after an exhausting session, Dev got the exact same lashes as me and that made me somewhat happy. Beaten, broken and after four more classes and three strenuous hours later, Shilajeet and I decided the day called for some refreshments and refreshments meant chilled beer and a few fags.

At the bar

Me: You took one for me, thanks, man…

Shilajeet: We’re brothers from different mothers’ man, I am sure you would do the same for me…

Hard to tell, I would not have taken such an extreme step until necessary, anyway, he took one for me and it was my duty to make him feel comfortable, and feeling comfortable only meant another bottle. Abhinav, Charan, and Gokul joined us at the bar. I had already taken ample time from home stating I had a mock test at my tuitions and convinced my ever-worrying mother I would come home late tonight.

The penultimate show

It was 7:47 pm and we all had time until 9:30 give or take ten to fifteen minutes; and we had to pass the time. As we were discussing everyone’s theory of how to murder time, Gokul suddenly screamed out, “How about a C-grade movie trip to Chitrakatha?”Chitrakatha was famous for its B and C-grade movies and only the best of the best were shown there- no one could deny such a proposition after being pumped up by beer. Anyone could expect to see a couple of juicy scenes in ‘Julia ki jawaani’, which would be more than what anybody could possibly demand-for a thirty-five rupee per head ticket. The penultimate show was from 8:00 pm and we had about enough time to buy ourselves the tickets.

Our anticipation was shot high as we saw the posters leading to the hall. These posters knew exactly how to target the audience by using steamy and juicy clothes revealing just the right amount of flesh. Propaganda used the right way. Tensed and full of fear, we managed to enter the hall, keeping detailed accounts of our surroundings-there was always risk involved, especially in places like this. D-1, D-2, D3, D-4, and D-5 were the seats allotted to us by the kind fare taker. The hall was dark and gloomy inside with traditional Vicco advertisements going on. As we five huddled into the little gaps in the arrangement of chairs offered, I handed out the strip of tickets to the ticket checker. Flashing the handheld torch he pointed out the fact we were in the C row and that our seats were in the D row. As he flashed his torch for us to indicate the D row better, the torchlight fell on Promothesh Sen. He huddled together in his seat and covered his face in shame and desperation. Bless Gokul, because, from that day onwards, we were never punished!

© Biswadeep

Image courtesy-

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