Saikorian Pride and Prejudice

We had observed that on Saturdays, after 2PM the surveillance and the radars were off. There is no particular reason, but that was it. After evening games, we slip into civil dress, have dinner and go and enjoy the evening movie, then back to bed. So that was the slot that was vulnerable to strike. So, a group of us decided to go to Vizianagaram for a movie. We hired some bi-cycles and started off. Our plan was to be back for dinner.

There is nothing much to write until we started to return.  We were happy, that everything went well so far and maybe we felt the same as those Navy seals felt recently at Abbottabad.

I was a bit slow and was lagging behind the others, for which I blame my old rickety cycle. It started to get dark and the cool breeze from Pedda cheruvu lifted our spirits.

Then suddenly there was a bang and a whoosh. My front tyre had burst and after a few flip flops I came to a halt. As I surveyed the damage to my tyre, I realized that my friends were too far off to call. Now, one can understand that accidents can happen to the best of people at the worst of the times. It is needless to say that I did not carry any money in my pocket. I then started to get very nervous and carried out a series of useless, illogical actions: I had slapped myself for the bad luck, sat down, stood up, took a few steps, backwards and forth.

The most logical thing that came to my Saikorian mind was to locate a cycle mechanic. I pushed the cycle, the front wheel making oscillatory motion, which brought varied feelings of laughter and pity from the passer byes. Nevertheless I walked on and soon I saw a small thatched hut with many used cycle tiers and a few broken cycles. This is it, I thought, but it was closed. I knocked at the door and out came a man almost showing his annoyance for disturbing him on a Saturday evening. He had a look at my plight and my front tyre. “Both the tyre and the tube have burst, they have to be replaced” he said. I tried to put my face as straight and pitiable as possible. I told him of my plight, promising to pay him the first thing the next day. “But sir, I am from Sainik School Korukonda and we are taught never to fail in our word, please sir” I pleaded.

He looked at me with reproachful eyes, as if I had said something immoral to him: "I'm very sorry, boy," he articulated with instructive courtesy. "But I am not only a charter member of the Vizianagaram Cycle Mechanic Union(VCMU), the Magna Carta of VCMU clearly says that the perfect mechanic is prohibited from collecting on credit"
I smiled, incredulous: "You're joking sir, of course."
"My dear boy, the subject of the Magna Carta of the VCMU is no joking matter. I believe you can understand me that money alone can buy you things.”

I prepared not to accept such ridiculousness: "Please, Sir" I said to him almost with folded hands. "Be reasonable. I'll pay you the first thing tomorrow...”
"I'm sorry, my boy, There are ethics in every profession, and in the mechanic's profession they are inflexible."  And, with that, he slammed the door.

I stood there for a few moments, bewildered and carried out the same series of useless, illogical actions as mentioned above. "That man is a lunatic. I'm going to another mechanic shop, and, just in case, I'm not going to say that I have no money until after they repair my cycle."
The trudged along with my cycle.

Soon I found another mechanic shop, where a cute looking young girl was busy stitching buttons to a blouse. I explained to her my plight, but did not tell her that I had no money on me.

She hesitated for a moment, and said: "Impossible. The Magna Carta of the Vizianagaram Cycle Mechanics' Union prohibits us from doing any work after six on Saturday evenings."

Her rely left me trembling, never the less I lit up in a flame of anger: “Now listen here! Don’t be redic…….”  I realised that arguing with a lady is beyond my capacity, especially in the state of psychological inferiority in which I then found myself.

“Nannaaa” she shouted almost hysterical and ran inside.  I had to leave after repeating those useless and illogical actions once again.

Slowly I reached in front of the Railway Station. I was very thirsty and so decided to gulp a glass of water from the tea shop.

There I found a man, who looked more Bihari than an Bihari, clean shaven, with a crew cut. He was a man about 50 years and he seemed to be a sort of cross between an old time Bihari and a stead fast Military man. He was trying to ask something in chaste hindi, which no one there understood. So, I as a good Saikorian set off to help him. He actually was asking, where they can find ‘roties’ for dinner. Neither did I know, so I translated to the public there, who had given the required directions. I saw this Bihari’s eyes lit up when he found someone who understood hindi.

We started to talk. I told him, my name, and my class and of my plight and that I am from Sainik School and narrated every thing that happened that fateful evening.

“But how are you going to go back to School?” he enquired. Then my Saikorian pride burst forth and said” We at Sainik School are taught to face any eventuality.”

There was a gleeful and appreciative smile on his face. He sensed that I was in a hurry, he neither offered any help nor my Saikorian pride asked him to. I excused myself.

I walked about a mile and saw our School car whiz past me in great speed. Oh no! I decided to walk in the shadows to avoid being noticed. Another mile of pushing the cycle, our School car again whizzed past me towards School. I thought someone in the car turned back to see me. But the car didn’t stop so I was safe.

While going to Vizianagaram, the cycle carried me and now I had to carry it back. I reached School well past mid night. No problem at all, my absence was not noticed. I was lucky, I thought.

Monday morning we filled in the assembly hall and I saw an army Captain, neatly dressed, with neatly trimmed- moustache on the stage. He was introduced by our Principal as our new Head Master, Capt. R.K.Singh, the bihari I met in the railway station.