Bandula was in his second year at the university, and proud of where he was. He was not well off; but he managed to make ends somehow; he shared a room with two others and stinted on superfluous expenses, and sometimes even on meals. Still he found university life tolerably happy, and very little to complain about.
It was chilly at the bus-stand and no one to talk to! Feeling bored, he stretched his hands and yawned. It was then that he saw her coming.
Sherine was in The English Medium. One always said The English Medium, and not the English medium at the university. She was one of the few, the happy few who had the privilege of being in it, where you were at once envied and hated by the other students. She herself did not attach much importance to that. After all what was in it? She was proficient in English, which enabled her to follow lectures in that language. Others proficient in other languages followed them in the languages they knew. That was all. But there was pride deep within her. It was bred from the attention she got from the other students. She was conscious that, after all, everybody could not be exclusive.
Sherine always ran the last few yards down the slope out of the university gates. She always felt like a prisoner escaping past the last outpost into freedom when she did that. The canteen was near the gate and there was generally a crowd of students chatting around there. As she walked down now everybody stopped their talk and stared at her. Some of the boys whispered among themselves, and others laughed uproariously- to attention to themselves. The girls, of course, merely gave her a hostile glance. Sherine looked steadily at the ground. She hated people scrutinizing her like that. It made her feel nervous and embarrassed. A few weeks ago, when the ragging was or her body used to stiffen with fear when she heard boys making oatcalls or hissing behind her. But at least that time was past and its aching fears were now no more. But still her nervousness and diffidence lingered. Hearing the whispering now, she thought to herself how silly these boys were_ What was no special about her? But then a wave of pride swept over her; she was in the English Medium an object to idolized by the boys and envied by the girls.
Bandula saw her coming and instinctively smoothed down his well-oiled hair and pulled up his collar. He looked at her with the corner of his eye, and, assuming a non-chalant expression, started kicking the grass by the wayside and stared across the river. But he did not see the flowing river
or the banks mantled with little yellow flowers on the other side. Instead he saw the image of the girl reflected on the dark waters. She was above the average height, broad-almost fat; but she did not move with the slow, indolent movement of fat people; her steps were firm and her strides elegant. Her hair was cut short and her nose and mouth small. She wore large, 'mod' wire-rimmed glasses which gave a strange light to her big, beautiful eyes. She had an air of calmness and restraint about her; but with it, there seemed a touch of haughtiness and independence of spirit. The duality fascinated Bandula. Altogether, she looked a young, self-possessed mother, rather than an eighteen year old university student.
The girl arrived at the bus-stand, and after giving him an uninterested look, stared at the direction from which the bus would come. He had always wanted to rub shoulders with the girls of The English Medium; but there had always been constraints. His greatest fear was that he could not manage perfect English. He could speak in Sinhala easily, but, after all, it was not like using kaduwa was it? He could manage expressing himself in English with some difficulty, but felt very awkward when doing so. Should he speak to her? After all, she was only a fresher, he a senior. Perhaps through respect for one in the second year she might not cut him dead. Bandula was not habitually shy; but these were extraordinary circumstances-addressing a girl in English. At least he drew a deep breath-it was now or never-and screwing up his courage, asked in a muffled voice, somewhat louder than needed, "Bus service-bad no?"
Sherine started at that; a sudden loud baritone from so close. His accent was coarse, like one unused to speaking English. Sherine was confused at first, but answered, "I don't know. I've only been here a little while."
"Uh?" asked Bandula. She spoke very fast and he found it hard to follow.
She glanced at him briefly, and Bandula thought that though she was not strictly beautiful, she had a charming air about her.
"I said I've been waiting only a very short time."
"Yes, yes," said Bandula, and grinned.
There was a pause. He walked about trying to think of another topic of conversation.
Then, he asked, "What subjects are you doing?"
At this, Sherine turned, the sun glinting on her specs as she did so. She found him staring seriously at her, as if doing a task that required immense concentration. The way he spoke was peculiar too, It was too fast-the words gushed out of his mouth as if he was delivering a prepared speech. He was tall, and thin, and clean-shaven, which was almost an exception at the university. Seeing her look at him, smiled. He had rather uneven teeth, slightly yellowed through excessive smaint But to Sherine his mouth seemed to over flaw with large, filthy teeth; his pink gums seem(' a sharp contrast to their dirty Sherine turned away in disgust, replied, "English, Maio.
The dirty bitch, he thought bitterly; just because he did not come from Colombo, did not go out dancing, or speak kaduwa , she despised him and would not talk to him. It was not only she, but also those dirty bitches. This was their superiority. But what irked him most was that he would have to put up with their snobbishness and the airs they gave themselves. He was not one to indulge in self-pity. And as he pondered darkly, he decided that he could not let things be like that. He had to make her his equal. And he knew he could cut her down to size only through one means-by ragging her. That was the only way-to rag them till they carried for mercy. But the ragging season had been over weeks before. And the thought that now he would not get his revenge infuriated him still more. How right Lalith had been, he thought now, how absolutely right.
He bought his ticket and sat down. He sat opposite. Sherine, the aisle divided them. It seemed now and unfordable gaff.
It was chilly at the bus-stand and no one to talk to! Feeling bored, he stretched his hands and yawned. It was then that he saw her coming.
Sherine was in The English Medium. One always said The English Medium, and not the English medium at the university. She was one of the few, the happy few who had the privilege of being in it, where you were at once envied and hated by the other students. She herself did not attach much importance to that. After all what was in it? She was proficient in English, which enabled her to follow lectures in that language. Others proficient in other languages followed them in the languages they knew. That was all. But there was pride deep within her. It was bred from the attention she got from the other students. She was conscious that, after all, everybody could not be exclusive.
Sherine always ran the last few yards down the slope out of the university gates. She always felt like a prisoner escaping past the last outpost into freedom when she did that. The canteen was near the gate and there was generally a crowd of students chatting around there. As she walked down now everybody stopped their talk and stared at her. Some of the boys whispered among themselves, and others laughed uproariously- to attention to themselves. The girls, of course, merely gave her a hostile glance. Sherine looked steadily at the ground. She hated people scrutinizing her like that. It made her feel nervous and embarrassed. A few weeks ago, when the ragging was or her body used to stiffen with fear when she heard boys making oatcalls or hissing behind her. But at least that time was past and its aching fears were now no more. But still her nervousness and diffidence lingered. Hearing the whispering now, she thought to herself how silly these boys were_ What was no special about her? But then a wave of pride swept over her; she was in the English Medium an object to idolized by the boys and envied by the girls.
Bandula saw her coming and instinctively smoothed down his well-oiled hair and pulled up his collar. He looked at her with the corner of his eye, and, assuming a non-chalant expression, started kicking the grass by the wayside and stared across the river. But he did not see the flowing river
or the banks mantled with little yellow flowers on the other side. Instead he saw the image of the girl reflected on the dark waters. She was above the average height, broad-almost fat; but she did not move with the slow, indolent movement of fat people; her steps were firm and her strides elegant. Her hair was cut short and her nose and mouth small. She wore large, 'mod' wire-rimmed glasses which gave a strange light to her big, beautiful eyes. She had an air of calmness and restraint about her; but with it, there seemed a touch of haughtiness and independence of spirit. The duality fascinated Bandula. Altogether, she looked a young, self-possessed mother, rather than an eighteen year old university student.
The girl arrived at the bus-stand, and after giving him an uninterested look, stared at the direction from which the bus would come. He had always wanted to rub shoulders with the girls of The English Medium; but there had always been constraints. His greatest fear was that he could not manage perfect English. He could speak in Sinhala easily, but, after all, it was not like using kaduwa was it? He could manage expressing himself in English with some difficulty, but felt very awkward when doing so. Should he speak to her? After all, she was only a fresher, he a senior. Perhaps through respect for one in the second year she might not cut him dead. Bandula was not habitually shy; but these were extraordinary circumstances-addressing a girl in English. At least he drew a deep breath-it was now or never-and screwing up his courage, asked in a muffled voice, somewhat louder than needed, "Bus service-bad no?"
Sherine started at that; a sudden loud baritone from so close. His accent was coarse, like one unused to speaking English. Sherine was confused at first, but answered, "I don't know. I've only been here a little while."
"Uh?" asked Bandula. She spoke very fast and he found it hard to follow.
She glanced at him briefly, and Bandula thought that though she was not strictly beautiful, she had a charming air about her.
"I said I've been waiting only a very short time."
"Yes, yes," said Bandula, and grinned.
There was a pause. He walked about trying to think of another topic of conversation.
Then, he asked, "What subjects are you doing?"
At this, Sherine turned, the sun glinting on her specs as she did so. She found him staring seriously at her, as if doing a task that required immense concentration. The way he spoke was peculiar too, It was too fast-the words gushed out of his mouth as if he was delivering a prepared speech. He was tall, and thin, and clean-shaven, which was almost an exception at the university. Seeing her look at him, smiled. He had rather uneven teeth, slightly yellowed through excessive smaint But to Sherine his mouth seemed to over flaw with large, filthy teeth; his pink gums seem(' a sharp contrast to their dirty Sherine turned away in disgust, replied, "English, Maio.
To Bandula her tone seemed flat and lacking warmth. He had done nothing to her, then why was she reacting this way.
But Sherine was rather a timid girl and her nervousness rose. Why was this boy asking her these questions? She had escaped being ragged, and heaved a sigh of relief after the Fresher's Night was over. She looked at him apprehensively. He looked mild, and harmless- a nice guy, she thought to herself. But then she remembered his filthy, discoloured teeth. It showed he lacked polish. That little something separated him from her. But still for all that he seemed sincere-quite a contrast to some of her batch mates in the English medium, from Royal or St. Thomas, who thought no end of themselves.
But Sherine was rather a timid girl and her nervousness rose. Why was this boy asking her these questions? She had escaped being ragged, and heaved a sigh of relief after the Fresher's Night was over. She looked at him apprehensively. He looked mild, and harmless- a nice guy, she thought to herself. But then she remembered his filthy, discoloured teeth. It showed he lacked polish. That little something separated him from her. But still for all that he seemed sincere-quite a contrast to some of her batch mates in the English medium, from Royal or St. Thomas, who thought no end of themselves.
Bandula was now at his wits' end. How could he make this girl talk? His friend Lalith had told him that the only way was by ragging the girls. But Bandula knew that Lalith had a complex, He came from a family that was rich. His father, who had originally been a boutique-keeper, had made money in the timber-business and even owned a small car now. Lalith had money, and was easily the best dressed in their batch, but he lacked one accomplishment that would have permitted him to hob-nob with the elite-his English was very poor. He had come to the university glad of the opportunity to learn. English but his natural waywardness had done nothing to improve his knowledge. So now he posed as a staunch nationalist hating the English-speaking classes bitterly, and trying to humiliate them in whatever way possible.
But Bandula was different. He came from a home with a pious Buddhist background, and that, with his naturally mild temperament made him dislike hamming other people. He had been one of the few who had not ragged the fresher's that year. Of course, he too had a desire to climb up the social ladder; but unlike Lalith, with him it did not amount to an obsession.
But the immediate problem was to think of a new topic of conversation, something where a dialogue of some length was possible. Bandula racked his brains. Suddenly, he had it!
"Lunch-you go home?" It took Sherine a few seconds to grasp that. She replied, "Yes," feeling her heart begin to thump again.
"I eat in canteen," he stated, "food very bad, but what to do-no?" He spoke jerkily, declaring rather than saying his words. It was as if he had no control over his vocal cords. He continued, "They must make canteen private. Then good."
For the first time, Sherine's curiosity overcame her fear. "What do you mean, private?" "Private owning," said Bandula gesticulating vigorously with his hands: he was delighted that the girl was taking some interest in what he was saying. Sherine, on other hand, noticed that when he spoke his face assumed an expression of almost painful intensity.
"I eat in canteen," he stated, "food very bad, but what to do-no?" He spoke jerkily, declaring rather than saying his words. It was as if he had no control over his vocal cords. He continued, "They must make canteen private. Then good."
For the first time, Sherine's curiosity overcame her fear. "What do you mean, private?" "Private owning," said Bandula gesticulating vigorously with his hands: he was delighted that the girl was taking some interest in what he was saying. Sherine, on other hand, noticed that when he spoke his face assumed an expression of almost painful intensity.
Actually, Bandula ate his lunch at canteen always, and he liked the food too; but he knew that the most Colombo-folk went to restaurants and night-clubs regularly-like in all the films he had seen. This girl must be used to big hotels too. So he thought he would sound impressive if he could shoe that he was also familiar with top class private hotels. He hoped fervently though, that the girl would not repeat to somebody that he advocated private enterprise; he knew it could affect his position in the Party.
"Er....I suppose so," said Sherine, trying to sound non-committal. But her anxiety increased. Why was he asking about the canteen? Was he trying to make her say something that he could replay to the other seniors which would provoke anger and opposition? Oh God, she taught in despair, only if the wretched bus would come! She looked around. They were the only people at the stand. At least, if the other girls would come it would be all right. A few minutes passed. Then, suddenly, she sensed him moving closer to her. What was he up to...?
But Bandula's sharp ears had caught the sound of the approaching bus and he was only walking up to stop it. His heart was full of misgiving. Why should she not talk? Why was she so cold and withdrawn? Was it because he was not nice-looking? Surely that could not be?
When the bus arrived, Sherine gasped in relief. As she got in, she saw the boy cough loudly and spit out. Then he got in too.
But Bandula's sharp ears had caught the sound of the approaching bus and he was only walking up to stop it. His heart was full of misgiving. Why should she not talk? Why was she so cold and withdrawn? Was it because he was not nice-looking? Surely that could not be?
When the bus arrived, Sherine gasped in relief. As she got in, she saw the boy cough loudly and spit out. Then he got in too.
In the bus, Bandula tried one final, desperate attempt at conversation. "I will buy your ticket?" he inquired, rather hesitantly-afraid of taking liberties. But he had seen films, boys buying girls their tickets, after having spoken to them only a few minutes. Surely this girl must be used it?
Sherine was shocked and confused. But she brightened, remembering that she travelled by season-ticket.
Sherine was shocked and confused. But she brightened, remembering that she travelled by season-ticket.
"I've a season. Thank you," she answered in a clear, firm voice. She opened the exercise book in which she usually carried her season but found it was not there. Mildly surprised, she searched next, and her pockets too, but it was missing. In consternation she remembered that it had been between the pages of a book that she had lent a friend that day. Well, she had to buy her ticket with the money she had, that was all. Then, in alarm, she remembered the boy who had offered to buy her tickets. What would he think? He would think her a liar and despise her. Cautiously, she looked around-there he was, well forward, with his back to her, digging into his pockets. In relief, she positioned herself in front of the conductor so that he would not see her buying the ticket. But the conductor did not have change; he gave her ticket but said that he would hand over the balance money later. Sherine sat down.
The tension she had been under for the last few minutes began to relax. She thought about him in a calmer farmer of mind. His English was definitely poor. She had also noticed certain detestable manners, like spitting on the road-and who knows, she thought, he might even be blowing his nose wiping his fingers on eaves. Those qualities she simply hated. He had no polish; that was evident
The tension she had been under for the last few minutes began to relax. She thought about him in a calmer farmer of mind. His English was definitely poor. She had also noticed certain detestable manners, like spitting on the road-and who knows, she thought, he might even be blowing his nose wiping his fingers on eaves. Those qualities she simply hated. He had no polish; that was evident
Then she remembered his smile,frank and guileless, with sincerity, his eyes shining in spite of his hideous teeth. Then it suddenly flashed on her that he was human being too. Only, he had been raised in different circumstances from her That was all that divided them. The next time, she thought, she would go andspeak to him, or at least smile at him without her silly earlier prejudices. But she did not realize that the flash of insight she had into his humanity was a fleeting thing and that the conventions of society and the prejudices of class that had always conditioned her would return and blacken and stunt her mind.
Bandula waited for the conductor to come for him to buy his ticket. A few minutes passed and he looked back to see where he was. He saw the conductor give a few coins to someone. Casually, he glanced at the recipient-it was the girl. For a few seconds he found nothing extraordinary about that. Then suddenly it explode in his mind that she would be only getting a balance if she had paid her fare. For a moment his mind went blank-then bitter rage replaced it. He was generally a calm, even tempered young man; but now his placid face was dark with anger, and the thin nervous hands that held his books trembled. For even habitual mildness can be ruffled. When one is slighted by a woman. It was ultimately his pride and self-importance that mattered to him most men he was acutely sensitive to criticism by women. He felt that the girl had insulted him. And a taunt from a woman so many times worse than any humiliation a man could inflict. Bandula did not love this woman, or desire her in any way; he had only wanted to measure his own worth by her standards. It was his ego that suffered.
Bandula waited for the conductor to come for him to buy his ticket. A few minutes passed and he looked back to see where he was. He saw the conductor give a few coins to someone. Casually, he glanced at the recipient-it was the girl. For a few seconds he found nothing extraordinary about that. Then suddenly it explode in his mind that she would be only getting a balance if she had paid her fare. For a moment his mind went blank-then bitter rage replaced it. He was generally a calm, even tempered young man; but now his placid face was dark with anger, and the thin nervous hands that held his books trembled. For even habitual mildness can be ruffled. When one is slighted by a woman. It was ultimately his pride and self-importance that mattered to him most men he was acutely sensitive to criticism by women. He felt that the girl had insulted him. And a taunt from a woman so many times worse than any humiliation a man could inflict. Bandula did not love this woman, or desire her in any way; he had only wanted to measure his own worth by her standards. It was his ego that suffered.
The dirty bitch, he thought bitterly; just because he did not come from Colombo, did not go out dancing, or speak kaduwa , she despised him and would not talk to him. It was not only she, but also those dirty bitches. This was their superiority. But what irked him most was that he would have to put up with their snobbishness and the airs they gave themselves. He was not one to indulge in self-pity. And as he pondered darkly, he decided that he could not let things be like that. He had to make her his equal. And he knew he could cut her down to size only through one means-by ragging her. That was the only way-to rag them till they carried for mercy. But the ragging season had been over weeks before. And the thought that now he would not get his revenge infuriated him still more. How right Lalith had been, he thought now, how absolutely right.
He bought his ticket and sat down. He sat opposite. Sherine, the aisle divided them. It seemed now and unfordable gaff.
 |
| J.S.Tissanayagam |
0 Comments