What will happen to my job? I hope the school does not issue a termination letter. Will they give me a negative character certificate? Will I be allowed to offer an explanation or something, because, this time, I didn't really do what they think I did!
I was trying hard to sleep, but these thoughts plagued me and kept me awake. I kept tossing and turning in bed, which squeaked a couple of times
Ever since Nic had told me that I had been summoned by the school disciplinary committee next Saturday, I had been panicking. I wondered why Mia would complain about me! For not doing anything? Ridiculous! I always knew she was made of more ego than anything else, but I had not imagined in the wildest of my dreams that she could stoop so low.
The disciplinary committee of our school consisted of a bunch of frustrated souls who could not accept others' happiness. They would happily sacrifice me in the name of upholding their hollow image.
Nowadays, like most corporate giants, all established schools go for a background check of their employees. Any written black mark on the experience certificate, or even a faint mention of summons from disciplinary committee, leave aside the result of it, could ruin my life.
I had already begun looking at other schools and had updated my CV on Indeed.com . I did not want to miss any opening. It was a mess, and after all this fuss, I was convinced that I was solely responsible for all the unwanted troubles in my life.
I was only a year old in Verona. Like I said, I did not have many friends. When I was in staff quarters, I could go to Nic's place anytime. Now I was in a posh colony of self-important people, who found it beneath them to interact with their neighbours. There was always a dead silence on the roads. A couple of guards strolled the length of the lane and whistled after fixed intervals, to signal that all was well. But other than that, it looked like a dead place to me.
After shifting to this posh yet dead society, when I craved friendly interaction, I missed Nic. For me, the best part of having a crazy friend like him was that we could ride the same thoughts and reach the pinnacle of happiness, anytime. Now he wasn't around, and I did not want to bother him in the dead of the night with my fears. I had tried speaking to Mia, to try and convince her to take the complaint back, but I couldn't get through. Perhaps her parents had taken away her cell phone. Honestly, I never liked Mia very much. For me, she was one of the many things I had stared at for pleasure. That's all. With her, I had done nothing, I had wanted to do nothing. I had clearly categorised her as outof-bounds-eye-candy. No promises had been broken, no limits were crossed, so this entire fiasco was quite a shock.
It was only 11 p.m. I was awake, restless, lonely, feeling unwanted, and bogged down with fear of being jobless anytime now.
I suddenly started feeling locked down and claustrophobic. I sat up with a jerk, put on a blue T-shirt that had been hanging behind the door and came to the living area. I pulled the entrance door open and the cool weather instantly cheered me up. Thinking of taking a stroll, I walked outwards. Then I glanced at the first floor. The house seemed to be resting in darkness. I assumed both Ella and Lexi must have slept by now.
The pleasant weather was uplifting my mood. Why the he ll w as I s tuck wi th t hese t wo c razy ladies? I s hould go out and live! I had the medicine which was the panacea of all the problems.
I went in and closed the door again. Assured nothing would disturb me, I opened my old mate, and poured a few drops of McDowell's No.1. The brand was my favourite. After all, I am a teacher. I couldn't possibly afford to have expensive tastes. While soft music played on my smartphone, I wet my parched throat with the golden elixir, relishing in the luxury of life. Alcohol doesn't permit one to do things better, but perhaps convinces us to be less ashamed of doing things poorly.
I had downed a couple of refills when I felt the need for some fresh air, I went out. The garden was too small for a stroll, so I thought of going to the terrace. Ella had told me I could use it at any time. I took the steps to the terrace, the bottle still clutched in one hand. With sloppy wet lips, I kissed my mate of lonely nights. Fresh air, a disposable glass, and a bottle dear to my heart! What else could a man need?
I was at the first floor landing when I heard voices. I could also see the small half-opened window and a dim light inside.
'Mom, this story was not new,' Lexi complained.
I halted in my tracks to hear the soft voices. The bed must be close to the window, I guessed, because I could hear the mother and daughter clearly. I don't know what took over me, for I sat on the floor, concentrating on the conversation between the two crazy females in my life, clutching the bottle close to my chest.
'How on earth can I tell you a new story every day?' The tired mother said softly.
'Mom, if you can only tell old stories, then tell me the story of the angel and the demon.'
'Lexi, you hear that story every day!'There was a hint of exasperation in Ella's voice.
Every day! I felt a chill. I was drunk, yes, but for a few seconds, the McDowell's lost its No. 1 spot, losing its effect. What a silly girl! Who hears the same story again and again! And I wasn't sure I knew anyone else of her age who would be listening to stories to go to sleep. I wanted to bang the precious bottle on my head.
My reverie broke when Ella started narrating the story.
'There was an angel. She wore a flowy white dress. And not too far away lived a demon, he wore a black suit.'
'Mom, why should the demon wear black every day? Change the colour today.'
Ella seemed to give the idea some thought, 'Okay… let's make it blue.'
My eyes fell on the sleeves of my blue T-shirt. The whisky's effect had nearly evaporated. I fumed silently. The demon inside me wanted to pounce on them.
I banged my palm on my head now. How on earth could a seventeen-year-old girl demand to hear a childish story! I was a teacher. I had interacted with hundreds of students of varied age. This girl was definitely weird!
Before I lost my cool completely, I sprinted to the other end of the terrace. The sight of the area was refreshing.
The Mula river flowed calmly behind the house's boundaries, glittering in the cool moonlight. With urbanisation, the river had lost its original robustness and slimmed down into a canal. Although polluted, at least there were no illegal constructions around the river and it was lush green on both the sides.
Nature's beauty, serenity of the water and the cheap whiskey had transported me. The cool air rustled the leaves of the present and lifted the dust off my past. As memories began flooding me, I couldn't help but think of my family. How bad I had been when I was a boy! I spent my entire childhood wishing I were older, and now that I was, I was thinking what I had become. I often wished I could be a child again so I could grow up once again and be whoever I wanted to be.
My father had a transferable job in the State Bank of Italy. We kept moving from one town to another, every few years, and had lived in many parts of the country.
Things began to change for me when we were living in Amalfi. I was around eight years old back then. Shifting constantly never let me make long-lasting friends, and I was bad at making friends I used to play with kids of the locality and make acquaintances, but never friends. I couldn't imagine parting from friends. So to while away time, I used to sit on my bed and look out of the window. My classes were held in the second shift, so from 7:30 in the morning, I would sit idly and watch the road. Back in those days, I did not have any greed or urge for girls. Obviously, I was too young to understand. But watching school girls passing by in their varied length skirts gave me a strange satisfaction. I always watched their legs. They were all beautiful, differently. Some were extra exposed, some exceptionally fair and some used to be hidden too much by their extra-long skirts. I don't know why, but those legs always caught my attention.
With time, the ritual to pass time became the habit of gazing at those legs. I would sit there for hours. In fact, one of my fondest memories is when a class tenth girl touched my cheek, and said, "…you are really cute." It had taken me a few hours to fall asleep that night. The touch had been on the cheek, but she had unintentionally woken something else in me. I failed
to recognise this demon raising its head at that time. After all, I was only ten years old.
My childhood was not luxurious, but I always had the things that I needed. I was a demanding child, and my parents did all in their might to fulfil those demands. I was closer to my father than my mom. In fact, I often visited the bank he worked at. I was very proud of my father because of what he did. I understood only this much that people purchased everything with money, and at the bank, I saw them lining up in front of my father. I thought my father was the owner of all that money. I used to think, he was the richest man on this earth. That's why I used to get surprised, whenever my expensive demands were turned down with some excuse or the other. Reality dawned on me quite late in life.
We were a small family of four members. While mom and dad were okay, there was a villain in my life. Born several years before me, he remained buried in books all the time, which made my life hell. It's not that I hated him from birth. But there was a chorus which was sung to me all my life – 'Look at your brother. How good he is!'
He was favoured and appreciated all the time. For studies, for being so humble, for being sincere, and mostly because he never demanded anything. I started hating him for these reasons. I was befuddled, how could anyone be good in studies! Now that I look back, I feel it was more a result of the constant comparison by others. And my brother, he always praised me. I never realized how wrong I was in judging him, until it was too late.
I failed to clear the convent school's entrance test, but my brother got through. I had always dreamt of studying with those girls in short skirts. And now, my brother would be living my dream, though he had no interest in whether the girls came in skirts or jute bags.
It's the irony of life. The more you want a thing, the greater the force with which the universe drives it away. I finally took admission in an average school, about a kilometre away from my brother's. I would accompany him and just watch those naked legs for a few minutes before heading to my own school.
As time passed, my over-studious brother cracked Politecnico di Milano for Engineering, and we all shifted to Milan. I had to change my school again. And again had to hear the same old song - 'Look at your
brother! He has always been brilliant in studies, hardworking, and now it has paid off.'
I offered flowers to god and thanked him that my brother had not cleared TOLC-l. Else, my family would have made my life living hell.
I went to my brother's engineering college twice, out of curiosity, and he never said no. I found, there were no attractive girls in his batch. Moreover, he had taken mechanical engineering. It was a bunch of guys, immensely happy in their own world. And if, by mistake, they found one beautiful girl, the entire college would start hovering around her.
I lost my desire to become an engineer completely after seeing the sorry state of these boys. But I belonged to a middle-class family and these things are not our decisions totally. So my father forced me to fill the TOLC-l form, among many other useless exams. But my rank could not secure me a seat. Naturally, without inclination, hard work or miracles, there was no way I could get in. Finally, I took admission in University Of Milan to do B.Sc.
My family was depressed beyond consolation. University of Milan failed to please them, and so did their younger son. They complained, blaming me for breaking the chain and not following the great path of doing engineering. My life had not found its significance!
I was upset, and almost scared to come home, but at least I had the drive to pursue my education. After a childhood of struggle, I finally found my freedom and happiness in University of Milan.