Scoot Skedaddle Vamoose — Age 13
Chapter 5— a novel about anxiety — insecurity and self-gratification
“I made a piano with glasses yesterday,” said Ranjit.
It was recess. Karan was sitting at his desk, and eating his tiffin with Usman. Ranjit and a few others were standing a little ahead of them. Ranjit talked about a science experiment he had done at home a few days ago. Everybody was intently listening to him, and Karan was squirming with jealousy.
Why am I not intelligent and intellectual like Ranjit?
Ranjit was smart. He came third in the class, and Karan felt that if Ranjit had put in a little more hard work he could have easily beaten him and come first. However, Ranjit wasn’t interested in following the school syllabus. He was a free-thinker and did whatever he liked.
“So I took five glasses,” said Ranjit. “And I filled these five glasses with different levels of water. So that the height of the air column in every glass is different. Now when you take a spoon and strike the glasses, each glass produces a different sound according to the height of the air column it has. And you can tinker with this height and change the pitch of the sound. And once you have five glasses, you can create five different sounds and make a piano. I even played ‘Happy Birthday to you’ on that piano.”
“That’s awesome, Ranjit,” said a girl, who had been listening to him. “You should show it to us someday.”
Karan felt extremely insecure. Even he wanted to do cool experiments in the garage and impress girls. But neither had the time nor the inclination to do something out of the school syllabus.
“This Ranjit fellow is weird,” said Karan to Usman. “Wastes his time on rubbish things at home. Such a chutiya,” Karan snickered. Usman snickered as well — Karan found his effeminate body language very funny.
“Usman, do you think he is more intelligent than me?” said Karan.
“Oh my god, Karan. How many times in the past have I told you that the answer is no? Uff. You know it yourself,” said Usman.
Usman is sweet as hell. I love him — thought Karan. Then he looked back to see what was going on with Ranjit.
Ranjit was tall and well-built, and Karan looked at his shoulders. They are broader than mine. Then he looked at his face — a freshness associated with it, and a kind of energy as if it reflected the curiosity that brimmed in his brain. For a second, Karan was drawn toward Ranjit. Immediately he rebuked himself.
I am better than him. I come first and he comes third and my face looks better than him. I’m much more good-looking, for sure.
“Ranjit tell us how you make homemade firecrackers, man!” said one of the guys.
And then very excitedly Ranjit described step-by-step the procedure of making a firecracker. He told them about all the chemicals one had to procure and then he told them how to mix these chemicals.
“You have to be very careful with the chemicals. You make the slightest mistake and you can get very hurt,” said Ranjit.
Then he rolled up his sleeve and exposed his forearm. There was a burnt patch of skin. Everybody looked at the patch and they cringed. But soon afterwards they were all in awe of him. Karan looked at their eyes, and in it, he saw respect — they all respected Ranjit for his firecracker-making skills. And Karan was not sure if he had ever gained a similar respect from other people. He was as jealous as hell and wanted to tell everybody that Ranjit did not deserve their respect. I deserve it! I work hard to come 1st.
“If you knew your chemistry well, this wouldn’t have happened,” Karan yelled to Ranjit.
Ranjit turned around. “What do you mean,” he said.
Karan closed his tiffin box and walked up to Ranjit.
“I’m saying that if you had studied the chemistry textbook properly you wouldn’t have gotten burnt in your hand.”
He made a derisive smile.
“Are you trying to say that your chemistry is better than mine?” said Ranjit.
He had taken offense.
“How much did you get in chemistry, last term?”
“Eight-two.”
“Hey. I got ninety-five. Loser,” Karan made the L sign with his fingers on his forehead.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” said Ranjit. “You’re a rote-learner, Karan.”
Rote-learner! — Karan hated that word. It made him feel that he was not an intelligent person. It made his insecurity come true.
“I am not a rote-learner,” said Karan. “I understand things, OK?”
“No, you don’t,” said Ranjit. “You are just interested in gobbling up the textbooks and then vomiting it back on the answer sheets. You never make any practical use of what you have learned.”
“That is not true,” Karan protested. “Agreed I have a sharp memory. But it does not mean that I don’t understand things. I understand everything and that makes it easier for me to learn,” he paused for a breath, “You don’t understand how much hard work it is to top the class. So it’s very easy for you to say these things. Why don’t you try to top the class once, and then we’ll see?” Anger simmered on Karan’s face. He wanted to thrust his knuckles down Ranjit’s throat.
“I can come 1st if I want to,” said Ranjit.
“What do you mean if you want to?” said Karan. “That way everyone will say ‘I can do this if I want to’. Why don’t you come 1st and show me then?”
“I am not interested in rote learning unlike you.”
“Ranjit, I am not a rote learner!”
“Yes, you are. Why don’t you ask Shaunak?”
Shaunak was standing around them. He had been standing for a while and enjoying their conversation.
Karan looked at Shaunak, expectantly.
“Ei, man. I don’t know. Why are you dragging me into this,” he said.
“Just tell me, Shaunak,” said Karan, and then in a very sweet voice he added. “Shaunak, you’re my friend, right? I want you to tell me the truth.”
Karan wanted him to say that he was not a rote-learner.
Shaunak patted Karan on his back and then sighed.
“Ei, I’m sorry to say. Ranjit is right. You are a rote learner,” he said.
“Fuck off, Shaunak,” said Karan and then walked off.
The entire day, Karan felt humiliated. His thoughts went into a spiral.
Am I a rote learner? He asked himself.
No, I understand things first and then I learn it. I have a sharp memory, so it makes it easier for me to learn. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand things. He repeated this explanation to himself, over and over again.
Maybe I am a rote learner. This doubt plagued his mind so much that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else.
No, I understand things and only then do I learn it. He kept on repeating it to himself, like a broken record player.
By the evening his brain had taken on such much anxiety that it automatically switched off, as a survival strategy. And so instead of feeling agitated and confused, he felt heavy with depression.
He started mindlessly repeating his thoughts like a machine that was about to go out of battery. I understand things and it makes it easier for me to learn them. But it does not mean that I don’t understand things.
When he reached home he was still repeating the thoughts in his head, like a malfunctioning robot. I understand rote learner. I am not memory learning intelligently. I do not understand easier to learn rote learning.
Mom saw his gloomy face which looked like it could fall off any moment, and she immediately realized that something was gravely wrong with her son.
“What happened Karan?” she asked.
She looked very, very concerned.
“Nothing, Mom,” Karan started sniffling.
I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to think anymore. My friends think I am a rote-learner.
“No, please, beta. Tell me what’s wrong. Why are you crying? Beta, please tell me.”
For a second there was a pause, and then Karan flung himself into Mom’s arms and burst into tears — burst into tears like an extremely troubled baby. Within a minute Mom’s kurta was wet with his tears. “Mommy, people think I am a rote learner,” he wailed.
“Aww. That’s not true,” said Mom.
“Mom, people don’t think I am intelligent. How can they say such things about me, Mommy? I come 1st in class.”
“No one thinks that, Karan. All your teachers say you are the smartest kid in class. Tell me, beta, what happened today?”
Then Karan told Mom everything about what had happened earlier that day. He told her that Ranjit was unnecessarily bragging in front of everyone, and so he told him that his chemistry knowledge was not as great as he thought it to be.
“I just wanted Ranjit to stop bragging. I don’t want him to fool people, Mom,” said Karan.
Then he told her about how Ranjit started calling him a rote-learner, and then how Shaunak confirmed it too. He paused intermittently to sob a bit, especially at the most painful parts. He told Mom that the world did not value his intellect and that this was a grave injustice.
“Why is everyone so jealous of me? What have I ever done to be treated like this? I have not harmed anyone, so why should others hurt me?” he said.
“I think I am going to call Ranjit’s Mom,” said Mom. “Ranjit shouldn’t have behaved like that.”
Karan was so beaten down by now that he did not even care about the repercussions of his Mom talking to Ranjit’s Mom. What if Ranjit would tell everyone at school how I was such a pussy and had to get my mom to speak for me? What if everyone at school would come to know that I had whimpered like a baby just because someone had called me a rote-learner? It would be so embarrassing — These thoughts floated through Karan’s mind but he had no energy left to fight them. He resigned himself to the present moment and let Mom control the situation.
He saw Mom picking up the receiver of the phone and then opening the phone book at page ‘R’ and then pushing the buttons on the dial-pad. He did not stop her — tears were still streaming down his cheeks. It was Ranjit’s mom who picked up the phone at the other end. Karan was relieved that it was not Ranjit.
Karan’s mom was very tactful with the conversation and chose her words and the tone of her voice very carefully. She had a very mature discussion with Ranjit’s Mom about what had happened at the school with their boys. She didn’t blame anyone, she didn’t call any names. She just told about the conversation their kids had had at school, and how it had affected Karan, how he had come back home feeling depressed and gloomy, and how after that he had burst into tears and had been crying since. Ranjit’s mom was moved. She immediately accepted that it was Ranjit’s fault.
“He shouldn’t have behaved like that with Karan. I’ll make sure he never does it again,” she said.
She told Karan’s mom that she would talk it out with Ranjit and that everything would be fine tomorrow. She also asked if Karan had stopped crying and she felt very sorry that the poor kid had to go through so much all because of her son.
The next day at school Ranjit walked up to Karan.
“Sorry.”
Karan knew very well why he was apologizing but he feigned ignorance.
“Hey, what happened man, why are you apologizing?”
“I’m sorry for calling you a rote-learner yesterday,” said Ranjit.
He looked unapologetic.
“It’s all right. Why are you making a big deal out of it? I forgot all about it immediately after our conversation,” said Karan.
“Your mom called my mom last night,” said Ranjit.
Karan felt a little uneasy. He didn’t know what to say. He looked uncomfortably at Shaunak, who was around as well.
“Ei, what happened? Why did your mom call?” said Shaunak.
“Your mom told my mom that you were crying,” said Ranjit.
Karan started laughing awkwardly. “No. I did not cry. I don’t know why my mom said that.”
He looked at their eyes, and he saw distrust in them — neither Ranjit nor Shaunak believed him.
“You know my Mom slapped me hard last night because I made you cry,” said Ranjit.
“Oh damn,” said Karan. He was feeling embarrassed now. “Come let’s shake hands, and forget all about it.”
“Never mind,” said Ranjit and walked away.
Karan knew that Ranjit hated him. He knew that Ranjit still thought of him as a rote learner.
To be continued…
