Before the match

THE M. C. C. 's challenge to a 'friendly' match was accepted by the Young Men's
Union, who kept themselves in form by indefatigable practice on the vacant site
behind the Reading Room, or when the owner of this site objected, right in the
middle of Kulam Street. The match was friendly in nought but name. The challenge
sent by the M. C. C. was couched in terms of defiance and threat.
There were some terrifying conditions attached to the challenge. The first
condition was that the players should be in the field promptly at eleven noon. The
second was that they should carry their own bats, while the stumps would be
graciously supplied by the M. C. C. The third was not so much a plain condition as
a firm hint that they would do well to bring and keep in stock" a couple of their own
balls. The reason for this was given in the pithy statement 'that your batsmen might
hit your own balls and not break ours'. The next was the inhospitable suggestion
that they had better look out for themselves in regard to lunch, if they cared to have
any at all. The last condition was perhaps the most complicated of the lot over
which some argument and negotiation ensued: 'You shall pay for breaking bats,
balls, wickets and other damages.'
The Y.M.U. captain was rather puzzled by this. He felt that it was irrelevant
in view of the fact that there were conditions 2 and 3, and if they broke any bats
and balls at all, it would be their own property, and the M.C.C.'s anxiety to have the
damage made good was unwarranted. He was told that the stumps belonged to the
M.C.C. anyway, and there was also the Y.M.U.'s overlooking clauses 2 and 3. At
which the Y.M.U. captain became extremely indignant and asked why if the M.C.C.
was so impoverished, it should not come and play in their (Y.M.U.'s) own pitch and
save them the trouble of carrying their team about. The stinging rejoinder occurred to the indignant Rajam exactly twenty minutes after the other captain had left, that
it could not be done as the M. C. C. did not think much of a match played in the
middle of Kulam Street, if the owner of the vacant site behind the Reading Room
should take it into his head to object to the match. Before he left, the Y. M. U.
captain demanded to be told what 'Other damages' in the last clause meant. Rajam
paused, looked about, and pointed to the windows and tiles of a house adjoining
the M. C. C. field.
The match was to be played on Sunday two weeks later. Rajam lost all
peace of mind. He felt confident that his team could thrash the Y. M. U. He himself
could be depended upon not to let down the team. Mani was steady if
unimpressive. He could be depended upon to stop with his head, if necessary, any
ball. His batting was not bad. He had a peculiar style. With his bat he stopped all
reasonable approaches to the wicket and brought the best bowlers to a fainting
condition. Rajam did not consider it worth while to, think of the other players of the
team. There was only one player who caused him the deepest anxiety day and
night.
He was a dark horse. On him rested a great task, a mighty responsibility.
He was the Tate of the team, and he must bowl out all the eleven of the other
team. But he looked uncertain. Even with the match only a fortnight off, he did not
seem to care for practice. He stuck to his old habit of arriving at the field when
darkness had fallen on the earth. 'Swami,' Rajam pleaded, 'please do try to have at
least an hour's practice in the evenings.'
'Certainly Rajam, if you can suggest a way....'
Why not you tell your Head Master that....'
'Oh, no, no,' Swaminathan cried, 'I am grateful to you for your suggestion.
But let us not think of that man. He has not forgotten your last visit yet.'
'I don't care. What I want is that you should have good practice. If you keep
any batsman standing for more than five minutes, I will never see your face again.
You needn't concern yourself with the score. You can leave it to us....'
Just seven days before the match, Swaminathan realised that his evenings
were more precious than ever. As soon as the evening bell rang, he lined up with
the rest in the drill ground. But contrary to the custom, he had not taken off his coat
and cap. All the others were in their shirts, with their dhotis tucked up. The Drill
Master, a square man with protruding chest, a big moustache sharpened at the
ends, and a silk turban wound in military style, stood as if he posed before a
camera, and surveyed his pupils with a disdainful side-glance. The monitor called
out the names from the greasy register placed on the vaulting horse. The
attendance after an interminable time was over and the Drill Master gave up his
pose, came near the file, and walked from one end to the other, surveying each
boy sternly. Swaminathan being short came towards the end of the file. The Drill
Master stopped before him, looked him up and down, and passed on muttering:
'You won't get leave. Coat and cap off.' Swaminathan became desperate and
pursued him: 'Sir, I am in a terrible state of health. I can't attend Drill to-day. I shall
die if I do. Sir, I think I shall--' He was prancing behind the Drill Master.
The Drill Master had come to the last boy and yet Swaminathan was
dogging him. He turned round on Swaminathan with a fierce oath: 'What is the
matter with you?'
'Sir, you don't understand my troubles. You don't even care to ask me what
I am suffering from.'
'Yes, yes, what exactly is ailing you now?'
Swaminathan had at first thought of complaining of headache, but now he
saw that the Drill Master was in a mood to slight even the most serious of
headaches. He had an inspiration and said: 'Sir, the whole of last night I was
delirious.' The Drill Master was stunned by this piece of news.
'YOU were delirious! Are you mad?'
'No, sir. I didn't sleep a wink last night. I was delirious. Our doctor said so.
He has asked me not to attend Drill for a week to come. He said that I should die if
I attended Drill.'
'Get away, young swine, before I am tempted to throttle you. I don't believe
a word. But you are a persevering swine. Get out.'
The intervening period, about half an hour, between leaving the drill ground
and reaching the cricket field, was a blur of hurry and breathlessness. Everybody at
the field was happy to see him so early. Rajam jumped with joy.
On the whole everything was satisfactory. The only unpleasant element in
all this was an obsession that the Drill Master might spy him out. So that, when
they dispersed for the evening, Swaminathan stayed in Rajam's house till it was
completely dark, and then skulked home, carefully avoiding the lights falling in the
street from shop-fronts.
The next morning he formed a plan to be free all the evenings of the week.
He was at his desk with the Manual of Grammar open before him. It was seven-
thirty in the morning, and he had still two and a half hours before him for the
school.
He did a little cautious reconnoitering: mother was in the baby's room, for
the rhythmic creaking of the cradle came to his ears. Father's voice was coming
from the front room; he was busy with his clients. Swaminathan quietly slipped out
of the house.
He stood before a shop in front of which hung the board; 'Doctor T.
Kesavan, L. M. & S. Sri Krishna Dispensary.' The doctor was sitting at a long table
facing the street. Swaminathan found that the doctor was alone and free, and
entered the shop.
'Hallo, Swaminathan, what is the matter?'
'Nothing, sir. I have come on a little business.'
'All well at home?'
'Quite. Doctor, I have got to have a doctor's certificate immediately.'
'What is the matter with you?'
'I will tell you the truth, doctor. I have to play a match next week against the
Young Men's Union. And I must have some practice. And yet every evening there
is Drill Class, Scouting, some dirty period or other. If you could give me a certificate
asking them to let me off at four-thirty, it would help the M. C. C. to win the match.'
'Well, I could do it. But is there anything wrong with you?'
Swaminathan took half a second to find an answer: 'Certainly, I am
beginning to feel of late that I have delirium.'
'What did you say?' asked the doctor anxiously.
Swaminathan was pleased to find the doctor so much impressed, and
repeated that he was having the most violent type of delirium.
'Boy, did you say delirium? What exactly do you mean by delirium?'
Swaminathan did not consider it the correct time for cross examination. But
he had to have the doctor's favour. He answered: 'I have got it. I can't say exactly.
But isn't it some, some kind of stomach ache?'
The doctor laughed till a great fit of coughing threatened to choke him.
After that he looked Swaminathan under the eye, examined his tongue, tapped his
chest, and declared him to be in the pink of health, and told him he would do well to
stick to his drill if he wanted to get rid of delirium.
Swaminathan again explained to him how important it was for him to have
his evenings free. But the doctor said: 'It is all very well. But I should be prosecuted
if I gave you any such certificate.'
'Who is going to find it out, doctor? Do you want our M. C. C. to lose the
match?'
'I wish you all success. Don't worry. I can't give you a certificate. But I shall
talk to your Head Master about you and request him to let you off after four-thirty.'
'That will do. You are very kind to me, doctor.'
At four-thirty that evening, without so much as thinking of the Scouting
Class in the quadrangle of the school, Swaminathan went home and then to the
cricket field. Next day lie had Drill Class, and he did not give it a thought. He was
having plenty of practice. Rajam said: "Swami, you are wonderful! All that you
needed was a little practice. What have you done about your evening classes?'
'It is a slight brain-work, my boy. Our doctor has told the Head Master that I
should die if I stayed in the school after four-thirty. I got him to do it. What do you
think of it?"
Mani dug him in the ribs and cried: 'You are the brainiest fellow I have ever
seen.' Rajam agreed with him, and then was suddenly seized with worry: 'Oh, I
don't know if we shall win that match. I will die if we lose.'
Mani said: 'Here, Rajam, I am sick of your talks of defeat. Do you think
those monkey-faced fools can stand up to us?'
'I shall write to the papers if we win,' said Rajam.
'Will they print our photos?' Tate asked.
Without doubt.'
It was during the Geography hour on Friday that the Head Master came to
the class, cane in hand. The Geography Master, Mr. Rama Rao, a mild elderly
person, rose respectfully. The Head Master gave the full benefit of his wizened
face to the class. His owl-like eyes were fixed upon Swaminathan, and he said:
'Get up.'
Swaminathan got up.
'Come here.'
Swaminathan 'came' there promptly. 'Show your shameless face to the
class fully.' Swaminathan now tried to hide his face. The Head Master threw out his
arm and twisted Swaminathan's neck to make him face the class, and said: 'This
great man is too busy to bother about such trivial matters as Drill and Scouting, and has not honoured these classes with his presence since last Monday.' His lips
twisted in a wry smile. The class considered it safer to take the cue, and gently
giggled. Even on the Geography Master's face there appeared a polite smile.
'Sir, have you any explanation to give?' the Head Master asked.
With difficulty Swaminathan found his voice and answered: 'It was the
doctor--didn't the doctor talk to you about me, sir?'
'What doctor talk about what?'
'He said he would,' faintly answered Swaminathan.
'If you talk in enigmas I shall strip you before the class and thrash you.'
'Dr. Kesavan said--'
'What about Dr. Kesavan?'
'He said he would talk to you about me and get me exemption from Drill
and other extra periods. He said that I should die if I attended Drill for some days to
come.'
'And pray what is your trouble?'
'He thinks it is some--some kind--of--delirium, you know.' He had
determined to avoid this word since he met the doctor last, but at this critical
moment be blundered into it by sheer habit.
The Head Master turned to the teacher and raised his brow. He waited for
some time and said: 'I am waiting to hear what other words of truth and wisdom are
going to drop from your mouth.'
'Sir, I thought he had talked to you. He said he would....'
'I don't care to have every street mongrel come and tell me what to do in
my school with my boys. It is a good thing that this Surgeon-General did not come.
If he had, I would have asked the peon to bash his head on the table.'
Swaminathan realised that the doctor had deceived him. He remembered
the genial smile with which the doctor had said that he would see the Head Master.
Swaminathan shuddered as he realised what a deep-dyed villain Dr. Kesavan was behind that genial smile. He would teach that villain a lesson; put a snake into his
table-drawer; he would not allow that villain to feel his pulse even if he
(Swaminathan) should be dying of fever. Further plans of revenge were stopped by
a flick of the cane on his knuckles. The Head Master held the cane ready and
cried: 'Hold out your hand. Six on each hand for each day of absence, and the
whole of the next lesson on the bench. Monitor, you had better see to it. And
remember W. S. Swaminathan, if you miss a single class again, I shall strip you in
the school hall and ask the peon to cane you. You can't frighten me with your
superintendent? of police, their sons, grandsons, or grandfathers. I don't care even
if you complain to His Majesty.' He released Swaminathan's neck and raised the
cane.
Another moment and that vicious snake-like cane, quivering as if with life,
would have descended on Swaminathan's palm. A flood of emotion swept him off
his feet, a mixture of fear, resentment, and rage. He hardly knew what he was
doing. His arm shot out, plucked the cane from the Head Master's hand, and flung
it out of the window. Then he dashed to his desk, snatched his books, and ran out
of the room. He crossed the hall and the veranda in a run, climbed the school gate
because the bolt was too heavy for him, and jumped into the end of Market Road.
He sat under a tree on the roadside to collect his thoughts. He had left the
school to which he would never go back as long as that tyrant was there. If his
father should hear of it, he would do heaven knew what. He would force him to go
back, which would be impossible.... He had got out of two schools in this fashion.
There were no more schools in Malgudi. His father would have to send him to
Trichinopoly or Madras. But probably the Board High School Head Master would
write to all the schools, telling them who Swaminathan was. He would not be
admitted to any school. So he would have to work and earn.... He might get some
rupees--and he could go to hotels and buy coffee and tiffin as often as he pleased.
What divine sweets the Bombay Anand Bhavan made! There was some green slab on the top left of the stall, with almonds stuck on it. He had always wanted to eat it,
but lacked the courage to ask the hotel man, as he believed it to be very costly....
His father would not allow him to remain in the house if he did not go to school. He
might beat him. He would not go home that day nor on any other day. He could not
face his father. He wondered at the same time where he could go. Anywhere. If he
kept walking along Market Road where would it lead him? Probably to Madras.
Could he reach Bombay and England if he went further? He could work in any of
those places, earn money and do what he pleased. If he should go by train.... But
what to do for money? There might not be much trouble about that. The station
master was an amiable man, and Swaminathan knew him.
The school bell rang, and Swaminathan rose to hurry away. The boys
might come out, stand around, and watch him as if he were something funny.
He hurried along Market Road, turned to his right, along Smith Street, and
taking a short-cut through some intricate lanes, stood before his old school, the
Albert Mission. The sight of the deep yellow building with its top-story filled him with
a nostalgia for old times. He wished he had not left it. How majestic everything
there now seemed! The Head Master, so dignified in his lace-turban, so unlike the
grubby wretch of the Board. Vedanayagam, Ebenezar, even Ebenezar. D. P. Pillai,
how cosy and homely his history classes were! Swaminathan almost wept at the
memory of Somu and the Pea.... All his friends were there, Rajam, Somu, Mani,
and the Pea, happy, dignified, and honoured within the walls of the august Albert
Mission School. He alone was out of it, isolated, as if he were a leper. He was an
outcast, an outcast. He was filled with a sudden self-disgust. Oh, what would he
not give to be back in the old school! Only, they would not take him in. It was no
use. He had no more schools to go to in Malgudi. He must run away to Madras and
work. But he had better see Rajam and Mani before going away.
He lingered outside the school gate. He had not the courage to enter it. He
was the enemy of the school. The peon Singaram might assault him and drive him out if he saw him. He discreetly edged close to the massive concrete gate-post
which screened him from a direct view of the school. He had to meet Rajam and
Mani. But how? He stood still for a few minutes and formed a plan.
He went round behind the school. It was a part of the building that nobody
frequented. It was a portion of the fallow field adjoining the school and terminating
in the distant railway embankment. Swaminathan had not seen this place even
once in all the six or seven years that he had spent at the school. Here the school
compound wall was covered half with moss, and the rear view of the school was
rather interesting. From here Swaminathan could see only the top half of the
building, but even that presented a curious appearance. For instance, he could not
at once point out where his old Second A was situated. He rolled up a stone to the
foot of the wall, and stood on it. He could just see the school compound now. It was
about twelve, the busiest hour in the school, and there was not a single person in
the compound. He waited. It was tedious waiting. After a short time, a very small
person came out of the First Standard, to blow his nose. The three sections of the
First Standard were in a block not a dozen yards from Swaminathan.
Swaminathan whistled softly, and the very small person did not hear.
Swaminathan repeated the whistling, and the very small person turned and started
as if he saw an apparition. Swaminathan beckoned to him. The small person took
just a second to decide whether to obey the call of that apparition or to run back to
the class. Swaminathan called him again. And the very small man drew towards
him as if in a hypnotic state, staring wildly.
Swaminathan said: 'Would you like to have an almond peppermint?'
The very small man could hardly believe his ears. Here was a man actually
offering almond peppermints! It could not be true. There was probably some fraud
in it. Swaminathan repeated the offer and the small man replied rather cautiously
that he would like to have the peppermint.'Well, then,' Swaminathan said, 'you can't have it just now. You will have to
earn it. Just go to Second Form A and tell M. Rajam that somebody from his house
wants him urgently and bring him over here, and then hold out your hand for the
peppermint. Maybe you will be given two.'
The small man stood silent, assimilating every detail of the question, and
then with a puckered brow asked: 'Where is Second Form A?'
'Upstairs.'
'Oh!' the boy ejaculated with a note of despair, and stood ruminating.
'What do you say?' Swaminathan asked, and added: 'Answer me before I
count ten. Otherwise the offer is off. One, two, three--'
You say it is upstairs'?' the boy asked.
'Of course, I do.'
'But I have never gone there.'
'You will have to now.'
'I don't know the way.'
'Just climb the stairs.'
'They may--they may beat me if I am seen there.'
'If you care for the almond peppermint you will have to risk it. Say at once
whether you will go or not.'
'All right. Wait for me.' The very small man was off.
Ten minutes later he returned, followed by Rajam. Rajam was astonished
to see Swaminathan's head over the wall. What are you doing here?'
'Jump over the wall. I want you very urgently, Rajam.'
'I have got a class. I can't come out now.'
'Don't be absurd. Come on. I have something very urgent to say.'
Rajam jumped over the wall and was by his side.
Swaminathan's head disappeared from view. A pathetic small voice asked
over the wall: 'Where is my peppermint?'
'Oh, I forgot you, little one,' Swaminathan said reappearing, 'come on,
catch this.' He tossed a three-pie coin at the other.
'YOU said almond peppermint,' the boy reminded.
'I may say a thousand things,' Swaminathan answered brusquely, 'but isn't
a three-pie coin sufficient? You can buy an almond peppermint if you want.'
'But you said two almond peppermints.'
'Now be off, young man. Don't haggle with me like a brinjal seller. Leam
contentment,' said Swaminathan and jumped down from the stone.
'Rajam, do you know what has happened in the school to-day? I have
fought with the Head Master. I am dismissed. I have no more schools or classes.'
'You fought with the Head Master?'
'Yes, he came to assault me about the Drill attendance, and I wrenched his
hand, and snatched the cane.... I don't believe I shall ever go back to the school. I
expect there will be a lot of trouble if I do.'
'What a boy you are!' exclaimed Rajam. 'YOU are always in some trouble
or other wherever you go. Always, always--'
'It was hardly my fault, Rajam,' Swaminathan said, and tried to vindicate
himself by explaining to him Dr. Kesavan's villainy.
'You have no sense, Swami. You are a peculiar fellow.'
'What else could I do to get the evenings off for practice. The Y. M. U. are
no joke.'
'You are right, Swami. I watched the fellows at practice this morning. They
have morning practice too. They are not bad players. There is one Mohideen, a
dark fellow, oh, you know--you will have to keep an eye on him. He bats like
Bradman. You will have to watch him. There is another fellow, Shanmugam. He is
a dangerous bowler. But there is one weakness in Mohideen. He is not so steady
on the leg side.... Swami, don't worry about anything for some time to come. You
must come in the morning too tomorrow. We have got to beat those fellows.'
Swaminathan had really called Rajam to bid him good- bye, but now he
changed his mind. Rajam would stop him if he came to know of his adventurous
plans. He wasn't going to tell Rajam, nor anybody about it, not even Mani. If he was
stopped, he would have no place to stay in. The match was still two days off. He
would go away without telling anyone, somehow practice on the way, come back
for a few hours on the day of the match, disappear once again, and never come
back to Malgudi--a place which contained his father, a stem stubborn father, and
that tyrant of a Head Master.... And no amount of argument on his part could ever
make his father see eye to eye with him. If he went home, father might beat him,
thrash him, or kill him, to make him return to the Board High School. Father was a
tough man.... He would have to come back on the day of the match, without
anybody's knowledge. Perhaps it would not be necessary. He asked suddenly:
'Rajam, do you think I am so necessary for the match?'
Rajam regarded him suspiciously and said: 'Don't ask such questions.' He
added presently: 'We can't do without you, Swami. No. We depend upon you. You
are the best bowler we have. We have got to give those fellows a beating. I shall
commit suicide if we lose. Oh, Swami, what a mess you have made of things! What
are you going to do without a school?'
'I shall have to join a workshop or some such thing.'
'What will your father say when he hears of it?'
'Oh, nothing. He will say it is all right. He won't trouble me,' Swaminathan
said.
'Swami, I must get back to the class. It is late.' Rajam rose and sprinted
towards the school, crying: 'Come to the field early. Come very soon, now that you
are free....'