“What if we got caught? Will we be expelled?” Nare asked, leaning against the railing.
“No one is going to get expelled. Gyane was simply bluffing. He doesn’t have the balls to do something like that. And if he does, we’ll make sure he won’t remain principal for long,” Kaale quipped, as he threw a pebble into the dark waters and listened to the little splash it created.
Reaching inside a bag, Gople spoke with a stoical air, “No one is going to get caught. I have just the thing with me here.” Slowly, he pulled out a pint-sized Coke bottle from his rucksack while Kaale and Nare peered into the darkness. Unlike a typical Cola bottle, the one Gople had just taken out contained a long, kerosene-soaked wick. It had been forced inside through a clumsy little hole in the bottle cap.
“We’re going to hit them with coke bottles?” asked Naresh, quizzically.
“Sshh..!” whispered Gople as he put his forefinger on is lips. “Gentlemen, I give you the Molotov cocktail.”
“What does it do?” Kaale asked.
“It’s a weapon. We light up the wick and hurl the bottle at the bastards’ den, and then, we watch it burn,” said Gople, as his breath reacted with the cold air to disappear in a plume of vapour.“So who’s going to do it...the actual hurling?” Nare inquired.
“You, of course. Who else would it be?” said Gople, still staring at the sparkling bottle in his hand. “You are the smallest among us. You’ll easily fit in through the crevice in the back wall and sneak into the compound.”
He looked at his watch as he spoke. “Okay boys, it’s time to roll. Let’s teach them a lesson they will never forget.”
Nare hated the idea. He had hated the entire thing from the very beginning. He had a bad feeling about whatever was happening, and hoped someone would muster the courage to tell Gople to abandon the plan. But there was no convincing his friend otherwise.
The night was silent, except for the sound of the flowing river and the intermittent barking of dogs in the distance.
It had all begun a few days ago. Khanda Devi High School and Durga MaBi had defeated six other teams participated in the annual Kamalamaai Inter-school Cup Football Tournament to compete in the finals. The match, scheduled to take place Saturday afternoon, was supposed to be a testy affair. Both schools had a long history of cross-village rivalry. A victory would mean ultimate bragging rights for the winners.
Two nights before the game, a few boys, allegedly from Durga MaBi, had barged into the Khanda compound and sprayed graffiti on the school walls with the pugnacious lines: ‘Come Saturday you will all be dead’. The masked boys even beat up the doorman and trashed the trophy gallery.
The next morning, the students at Khanda Devi were all in an explosive mood. All of the school’s 300 students had gathered at the main ground and were chanting slogans against Durga MaBi. The incident had touched a raw nerve; all signs pointed towards imminent violence.
Leading the rhetoric was Gople. He was the biggest amongst the tenth grade boys, leader of the Shankhe Gang. The group had been dubbed so as all its members had their hair cut in a round, circular fashion and wore chains of shell. Though the school had tried to outlaw the gang, the administration had been unable to do anything. The gang members were cadets of the student union club.
Gople had yelled at top of his voice, “Boys! It’s time to show all that we are men. Let’s teach those sons of bitches a lesson. Let’s march to their school and burn it down!!”
Everyone else had yelled resounding Yeses.
Gyan Bahadur, the school headmaster, had intervened; fearing events would take a nastier turn. He had tried to soothe the livid crowd, “Children, I know you are angry, and you have every right to be. But let’s not lose our heads; we have a big match tomorrow. Let’s try and win the trophy fair and square. I have lodged a complaint at police headquarters regarding last night’s vandalism. Also, I have talked to Madhav Sir, principal of Durga MaBi. He has said he will cooperate with us and help bring the culprits to justice. Now, everyone, go back to your classes.”
Upon hearing this, Kale had yelled, “No, Sir. With all due respect, we don’t want an investigation. We simply want to bust the skulls of those who desecrated our school.”
“Besides, how can anyone trust that crook, Madhave. Everyone knows he pocketed the money meant for the construction of the new village library building,” Gople had chimed in.
The headmaster’s face had tightened a bit upon hearing this. With sweat pouring down his right temple, he had spoken monotonically, “Well, I don’t care if Madhav Sir is a gentleman or not. But I want no more violence. Let this be a warning to anyone who will not heed my warning; you will be immediately expelled.” He had then returned to his office.
The word ‘expel’ had resonated. It had mingled with the chanting slogans and taken a life of its own.
After a while, it had become cumbersome, and the crowd had dispersed under its weight.
The only people left standing had been some 15 boys from the Shankhe Gang. Nare, ambivalent and unsure of whether or not he should remain there, had been one of them. When he’d just about decided he would return to class, Gople had addressed him. “Don’t be a wuss like others, Nare. Stay where you are. Otherwise, you’ll no longer be part of our gang”.
Nare was one of the sharpest students in class. He was also one of the smallest, and was bullied around by the other boys. He had been orphaned as a young child; his elder sister and her drunkard of a husband looked after him. Nare was sensitive about his size and got a bit aggressive whenever someone called him a wuss. He had joined the Shankhe Gang to gain acceptance amongst his peers. He had sworn allegiance to the Gang, been initiated into the exclusive club by honouring its code in blood. Ever since he’d become one of the Shankhe boys, none of his classmates had bothered him. In fact, they’d showed him respect.
“Okay, let’s come up with a plan then,” Nare had yelled, his feet firmly planted on the ground.
Durga MaBi was at a two-kilometre distance from the bridge, easily accessible via the village road. But the boys, afraid of being caught, had decided to take the narrow jungle trail. After almost an hour of navigating through the wilderness, they had reached the school premises. The main building was a three-storied complex, with long passages that led to classrooms on each floor. Towards the north stood a newly erected structure, the village library, built on government funds. To the east, was the dormitory. Gople and Kale stood guard, surveying the school grounds from a vantage. They Nare the green signal soon after.
“Good luck!” they yelled. “Remember to burn the office first,” Gople interjected.
Nare simply nodded as he lifted the bag, slung it around his shoulders. and headed toward the back wall. He sneaked through the narrow crevice surreptitiously. The darkness and silence were overbearing. Without pausing to think, Nare grabbed two Molotov cocktail bottles from inside the bag and lit them up. He looked up at the vantage, but the other two boys were nowhere to be seen. Remembering the oath of honour he’d taken, Nare threw one of the bottles toward the main office. He was about to hurl the second one when someone knocked him from behind. The lit bottle exploded in his hand.
Nare did not name any names fearing the ignominy of being dubbed a squealer. He was taken for the ‘mastermind’, and Kaale and Gople for mere abettors. They, and other members of the Shankhe Gang, were given clean chits while Nare was charged with arson. All three boys were expelled but only Nare went to jail. For nine months, he did time at a correctional facility and was treated for burns. He wasn’t allowed any visitors, and could not sit for his SLC exams. When he got back, he found the Shankhe Gang had disbanded. He also learnt that Kaale and Gople had both appeared for their SLC exams as pupils of Durga MaBi. Rumours were rife that they’d been awarded by Madhav Sir for burning down all invoices and VAT bills—prime evidences that would have proved his part in the embezzling of funds related to the library block construction.
- Dipesh Karki
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