WHAT IS A TAIL

The Geography Master was absent, and the boys of the First A had leisure
between three and three-forty-five on Wednesday.
Somehow Swaminathan had missed his friends and found himself alone.
He wandered along the corridor of the Infant Standards. To Swaminathan, who did
not really stand over four feet, the children of the Infant Standards seemed
ridiculously tiny. He felt vastly superior and old. He was filled with contempt when
he saw them dabbling in wet clay, trying to shape models. It seemed such a
meaningless thing to do at school! Why, they could as well do those things
resembling elephants, mangoes, and whatnots, in the backyards of their houses.
Why did they come all the way to a school to do this sort of thing? Schools were
meant for more serious things like Geography, Arithmetic, Bible, and English.
In one room he found all the children engaged in repeating simultaneously
the first two letters of the Tamil alphabet. He covered his ears and wondered how
the teacher was able to stand it. He passed on. In another room he found an ill-
clad, noisy crowd of children. The noise that they made, sitting on their benches
and swinging their legs, got on his nerves. He wrinkled his brow and twisted his
mouth in the hope of making the teacher feel his resentment but unfortunately the
teacher was sitting with his back to Swaminathan.
He paused at the foot of the staircase leading to the senior classes the
Second and the Third Forms. He wanted to go up and inspect those classes which
he eagerly looked for ward to joining. He took two or three steps up, and changed
his mind. The Head Master might be up there, he always handled those classes.
The teachers too were formidable, not to speak of the boys themselves, who were
snobs and bullies. He heard the creak of sandals far off and recognised the
footsteps of the Head Master. He did not want to be caught there--that would mean
a lot of unsatisfactory explanations.It was with pleasant surprise that he stumbled into his own set, which he
had thought was not at school. Except Rajam and Mani all the rest were there.
Under the huge tamarind tree they were playing some game. Swaminathan joined
them with a low, ecstatic cry. The response disappointed him. They turned their
faces to him with a faint smile, and returned to their game. What surprised
Swaminathan most was that even the genial Somu was grim. Something seemed
to be wrong somewhere. Swaminathan assumed an easy tone and shouted: 'Boys,
what about a little place for me in the game?' Nobody answered this. Swaminathan
paused and announced that he was waiting for a place in the game.
'It is a pity, we can't take more,' Sankar said curtly.
There are people who can be very efficient as tails,' said the Pea. The rest
laughed at this.
'You said Tail, didn't you?' asked Sankar. 'What makes ' you talk of Tail
now?'
'It is just my pleasure. What do you care? It doesn't apply to you anyway,'
said the Pea.
'I am glad to hear it, but does it apply to anyone here?' asked Sankar.
'It may.'
'What is a Tail?'
'A long thing that attaches itself to an ass or a dog.'
Swaminathan could comprehend very little except that the remark
contained some unpleasant references to himself. His cheeks grew hot. He wanted
to cry.
The bell rang and they ran to their class. Swaminathan slunk to his seat
with a red face.
It was the English period presided over by Vedanayagam. He was reading
the story of the old man who planted trees for posterity and was paid ten rupees by
a king. Not a word reached Swaminathan's brain, in which there was only dull pain and vacuity. If he had been questioned he would have blundered and would have
had to spend the rest of the hour standing on the bench. But his luck was good.
The period was over. He was walking home alone, rather slowly, with a
troubled heart. Somu was going a few yards in front of him. Swaminathan cried out:
'Somu, Somu.... Somu, won't you stop?' Somu stopped till the other came up. After
a brief silence Swaminathan quavered: 'What is the matter with you fellows?'
'Nothing very particular,' replied Somu. 'By the way, may I inform you that
you have earned a new name?--The Tail, Rajam's Tail, to be more precise. We
aren't good enough for you, I believe. But how can everyone be a son of a Police
Superintendent?' With that he was off.
This was probably Swaminathan's first shock in life. It paralysed all his
mental processes. When his mind started working again, he faintly wondered if he
had been dreaming. The staid Somu, the genial Somu, the uncle Somu, was it the
same Somu that had talked to him a few minutes ago? What was wrong in liking
and going about with Rajam? Why did it make them so angry?
He went home, flung his coat and cap and books on the table, gulped
down the cold coffee that was waiting for him, and sat on the pyol, vacantly gazing
into the dark intricacies of the gutter that adorned Vinayaka Mudali Street. A dark
volume of water was rushing along. Odd pieces of paper, leaves, and sticks,
floated by. A small piece of tin was gently skimming along. Swaminathan had an
impulse to plunge his hand in and pick it up. But he let it go. His mind was inert. He
watched the shining bit float away. It was now at the end of the compound wall;
now it had passed under the tree. Swaminathan was slightly irritated when a brick
obstructed the progress of the tin. He said that the brick must either move along or
stand aside without interfering with the traffic. The piece of tin released itself and
dashed along furiously, disappeared round a bend at the end of the street.
Swaminathan ran in, got a sheet of paper, and made a boat. He saw a small ant
moving about aimlessly. He carefully caught it, placed it in the boat, and lowered
the boat into the stream. He watched in rapture its quick motion. He held his breath when the boat with its cargo neared a danger zone formed by stuck-up bits of straw
and other odds and ends. The boat made a beautiful swerve to the right and
avoided destruction. It went on and on. It neared a fatal spot where the waters
were swirling round and round in eddies. Swaminathan was certain that his boat
was nearing its last moment. He had no doubt that it was going to be drawn right to
the bottom of the circling eddies.
The boat whirled madly round, shaking and swaying and quivering. But
providentially a fresh supply of water from the kitchen in the neighbour's house
pushed it from behind out of danger. But it rushed on at a fearful speed, and
Swaminathan felt that it was going to turn turtle. Presently it calmed, and resumed
a normal speed. But when it passed under a tree, a thick dry leaf fell down and
upset it. Swaminathan ran frantically to the spot to see if he could save at least the
ant. He peered long into the water, but there was no sign of the ant. The boat and
its cargo were wrecked beyond recovery. He took a pinch of earth, uttered a prayer
for the soul of the ant, and dropped it into the gutter. In a few days Swaminathan
got accustomed to his position as the enemy of Somu and company.
All the same now and then he had an irresistible desire to talk to his old
friends. When the Scripture Master pursed his lips and scratched his nose,
Swaminathan had a wild impulse to stamp on the Pea's leg and laugh, for that was
a joke that they had never failed to enjoy day after day for many years past. But
now Swaminathan smothered the impulse and chuckled at it himself, alone. And
again, when the boy with the red cap nodded in his seat and woke up with a start
every time his head sank down, Swaminathan wanted to whisper into the Pea's
ear: 'Look at that fellow, third on the first bench, red cap--Now he is falling off
again--' and giggle; but he merely bit his lips and kept quiet.
Somu was looking in his direction. Swaminathan thought that there was
friendliness in his look. He felt a momentary ecstasy as he realised that Somu was
willing to be friendly again. They stared at each other for a while, and just as Swaminathan was beginning to put on a sweet friendly look, Somu's expression
hardened and he turned away.
Swaminathan was loitering in the compound. He heard familiar voices
behind, turned round, and saw Somu, Sankar, and the Pea, following him.
Swaminathan wondered whether to stop and join them, or wait till they had passed
and then go in the opposite direction. For it was awkward to be conscious of the
stare of three pairs of hostile eyes behind one's ears. He believed that every
minute movement of his body was being watched and commented on by the three
followers. He felt that his gait was showing unfavourably in their eyes. He felt they
were laughing at the way in which he carried his books. There was a slight itching
on his nape, his hand almost rose, but he checked it, feeling that the scratching
would be studiously watched by the six keen eyes.
He wanted to turn to his right and enter the school hall. But that would be
construed as cowardice; they would certainly think that he was doing it to escape
from them. He wanted to run away, but that would be no better. He wanted to turn
back and get away in the opposite direction, but that would mean meeting them
square in the face. So, his only recourse was to keep on walking as best as he
could, not showing that he was conscious of his followers. The same fellows ten
days ago, what they were! Now what formidable creatures they had turned out to
be! Swaminathan was wonder struck at the change.
It was becoming unendurable. He felt that his legs were taking a circular
motion, and were twining round each other when he walked. It was too late to turn
and dash into the school hall. He had passed it. Now he had only one way of
escape. He must run. It was imperative. He tried a trick.
He paused suddenly, turned this way and that, as if looking for something,
and then cried aloud: -Oh, I have left my note-book somewhere,' raised his hand
and was off from the spot like a stag.