The effigy of Ravan went down in a heap of flames and the entire horizon got illuminated by crackers and rockets. It was Ramlila and it was after twenty long years we had come back to our town to be a part of it. It brought back to my mind another such event that got etched into my childhood memory. It was also a similar event in which Ravan got to be the hero at the end of the day.

We lived in a small town somewhere along the banks of the river Subarnarekha, a town so small and insignificant that isn’t even worthwhile to mention its name. Even if I do, nobody would ever be able to point it on a map. It was almost lost in the rocky rolling lands that stretched endlessly from Bengal into Bihar and into the forests of Sal, Mahua, Gulmohar and the fiery red Palash trees that grew in abandon. The only thing that proclaimed the existence of the town to the outside world was a railway station but back then, there was only one train that stopped once during day and then back during its return at night. And there was only a fistful of passengers who alighted or boarded it, for most of the people were content living within the sleepy limits of the town.

Like most small towns our town too had a single school, a red brick building that was erected by some missionary, whose name too isn’t worthwhile to be mentioned here. And though the town had changed its appearance and the river had changed its course, the school still stood through the test of time (until yesterday, when I last saw it). Now, this isn’t about the school or the town, but about Kuldeep, one of our school mates, who is much more a remarkable entity that the town or the only school of it.

Kuldeep never passed any of the classes, at least in one chance and never did make any conscious effort to pass them. When teachers got bored of teaching him, he was passed on to the next class and allowed to fail there until next promotion. Nobody remembered how and when he was admitted to the school but students considered him a sort of pre historic personality, a living relic or a mobile monument of our school, probably older than some of the teachers themselves. Kuldeep’s father owned a dairy farm and had the idea that his son who also was the sole member of the entire clan to cross the doorstep of a school would probably shine like a light (well not literally) and illuminate their whole family most of whom were doomed in the darkness of illiteracy. People (other than Kuldeep’s immediate family) however believed that Kuldeep had the same IQ as the average of his father’s cows and buffaloes and would probably burn the face (again not literally) of their entire tribe. Kuldeep never thought anything like that and considered himself too insignificant or inconsequential to be thought about by anybody, though he spoke of a day that would come in near future when he would make a difference and everybody would stand up for him. Nobody however waited or expected such a day would come before kingdom come. It was a general opinion that Kuldeep lacked a brain, and a hollow passage existed between his two ears which couldn’t entrap anything that passed through it. Only Rajnish thought that Kuldeep did have a brain but it was composed of some alien material that was useless in earth. Anyway whatever might be the case; whenever he used it the consequences were very much strange and utterly unpredictable.

That summer was such that everybody remembered it, for one, it was extraordinarily hot, so hot that Subarnarekha was reduced to a trickle in the river bed and the other factor making it memorable was that a new teacher joined our school and had the shortest career span in it. He was one of those sorts who had a lot of free energy but found no place to exhaust it and hence spent them trying to induce through out the school some sort of cultural spirit. As per him, everybody should participate in various sorts of cultural activity like music, painting, dramatics and all such sort of intellectual stuff which a normal student with all his senses open generally avoids. It was one of his brainwaves that all the students of our school were extraordinarily talented and they should stage a drama to exhibit their talents to the world which was our town. The drama decided upon which could best exhibit our talents was a piece ripped from Ramayan in which Ram kills Ravan, ravages Lanka, rescues Sita and returns to Ayodhya. The proposal was put, agreed whole heartedly by the school committee, the plans were drawn out for its implementation and the new teacher chosen to write the script and direct the play .

As the castings were being decided, Kuldeep, along with his father paid a surprise visit to the headmaster with the demand that he be allowed to play Ram in the drama. As per him, the school owed it to him after all the time and energy he had invested in it. His father supported his claim with the threat that if his son was denied his choice, he would cut the entire milk supply of the town. This was a serious type of warning, for Kuldeep’s father was the whole and sole authority of milk in the town and secondly the head master had two young girls half of whose diet constituted of milk. Registering the threat loud and clear, the head master immediately arranged an emergency meeting with the new teacher and a few senior fellows and had to employ a lot of coaxing and cajoling and his management skills, ultimately accommodating Kuldeep in the role of Ravan. This was more apt, considering the fact that Kuldeep’s appearance, gait, the way he carried himself were so demonical that Ravan might have copied him to appear more intimidating.

Now, that the problems were sorted out, the rehearsals of the drama began and went on more or less smoothly. There obviously were a few hiccups like when Kuldeep sported a sunglass to appear more villainous and at another occasion announced that he was going to copy Gabbar Singh of Sholay to perfect his act. Both his ideas were immediately and out rightly rejected and he was ordered to do as per the instructions of the director. This he did for the rest of the rehearsals.

The night of the drama was almost a gatecrash with the whole town, trying to fit in the school auditorium. It was a first of its kind entertainment in town and that too free of cost and hence became a full house in no time. The drama started with Ram getting some idea that his wife had been kidnapped into Lanka and then marching there with a lot of vengeance and few monkeys to get her back. All went well until Ravan entered the scene and from that point everything went haywire. From the very first scene it was entirely Kuldeep breaking away from the mould of Ravan and asserting himself over the whole stage and the audience.

It was Sugrib who got the first taste of the medicine. He was supposed to be the king of the monkeys and from that position invite Ravan to fight him. This he did with all his charisma and glamour but yet after completing his dialogue found Ravan busy trying to recover his sword from his scabbard. On the other hand Ravan was on the brink of his patience and after repeated efforts, when his sword refused to come out, he forgot it and all his dialogues and directed his annoyance towards a confused Sugrib thereby descending upon him with a violent and brutal rage. The king of monkeys was then subjected to such a volley of kicks and punches that he had to stage a very much unglorious retreat backstage and didn’t venture out again in the scene during the entire duration of the play.

This act had to be cut out prematurely, and the director summoned Kuldeep in the wings giving him a stern and sound hearing not to over act his role. However this made little difference, for he was not Ravan at all in the stage, he was Kuldeep trying to find out some amount of importance which he lacked so much in class. In next act he was to face Hanuman, again another mythical great warrior capable of doing impossible things and the director had vested a lot of faith in him to put the play back in the right track as Hanuman was also supposed to be the best actor in the play. However, on seeing what came of Sugrib, Hanuman outrightly refused to enter the stage. When he was pushed inside, he somehow tiptoed on to Ravan, who by that time had acquired a new sword, and as soon as he found Hanuman within his reach, subjected him to such a resounding slap that Hanuman thought it wise to get on the floor and lay there until he was out of danger. Ravan hadn’t expected such cowardice from such a valiant warrior and invited him to war aloud several times but failed to incite any response from his opponent. This disgusted him and frustrated he poked his wooden sword few times into Hanuman, and when this also failed to bring out any desired effect he threw out his arms in despair and staged a walk out from the arena. Hamuman was later recovered in his prostrate position and had to be sent to a dentist for oral repair.

By this time the director had got an idea of what was happening of his play and decided to stage a walkout himself. The headmaster caught him escaping and he had to return to chair in the wings, heavily sweating, palpitating and faking a heart attack. Hence, the headmaster thought it best to take over the direction himself and cancelled the role of Laxman who was on the verge of entering the stage. Instead, the shot put champion of our school was summoned from the audience, dressed up as Laxman and were given standing orders to dislodge Ravan from the stage at any cost. Laxman marched on to the stage, waved to the audience as if he was Muhammad Ali acknowledging his fans before a fight and then fell upon Ravan, who was a bit bewildered from the sudden appearance of an unrecognized fighter in the battlefield or rather the stage. Soon it turned into a freestyle wrestling match with the audience whistling, cheering and clapping and probably finding it more enjoyable than the actual play. Laxman by virtue of his well built and heavy body somehow overpowered and cornered Ravan and was on the point of pushing him out of stage but then Ravan out maneuvered him by jumping down from the stage and again reappearing through the wings and kicking a surprised Laxman out from the stage into the audience. Laxman wasn’t allowed a second entry back into stage as he was captured by Kuldeep’s father and his milkmen who were by the time proud of such a powerful performance by their protagonist.

The end of Laxman was as if the whole of Indian batting order had collapsed before the first drinks break. The headmaster too ran out of options and panicked when he found that this new teacher and director of the play had escaped deserting him in such a dire situation. Ram, the only one left, was asked to dress up, enter stage and fight at will until the end. Ram requested for a substitute but unlike Laxman failed to get any. The headmaster asked him to do anything he wanted but just stay on the stage and not leave it until ordered to do so. A unwilling, stumbling and trembling Ram walked on to the stage and after stammering through his dialogues threw his arrows, then his bow and then his sword towards Ravan but when none of his weapons managed to do any harm to a constantly aggressing Kuldeep, Ram forgot all his orders from his head master to hold his position and fled out of stage without any effort to rescue his wife and avenge his dishonor.

This however left Ravan without any opponents and hence without anything to do on the stage. He got a bit confused and realizing that in each version of Ramayan, Ravan had to ultimately die, tried to work something out of his non existent mind and then decided that he should commit suicide onstage to bring a glorious end to such a mindblowing performance. He brought out his sword, stuck in his chest and then recited something he had probably learnt in his English class. “It’s not to reason why, its but to do and die”. This was Lord Tennyson of “Charge of the Light Brigade” and Kuldeep had effortlessly imported him into Valmiki’s territory. This verse was followed by a crazy type of theatrical laughter, after which Kuldeep fell to the stage and finally announced he was dead.

This was supposed to be the end of the play and as soon as it was signaled, all the milkmen and their friends in the audience, believing this to be a new version of Ramayan, rushed on to the stage, carried away Kuldeep on to their shoulders and began to shout slogans hailing him as the new hero of a new era. The headmaster asked for curtains to be drawn, arranged for first aid for all the characters who had encountered Kuldeep on stage and then silently returned back home. It had dawned on him, it wasn’t a drama directed by the new teacher but a play that was fully controlled by Kuldeep so that he could gain his one day of fame. This was the day when Kuldeep made a difference and at least some people did stand up for him.

Anyway the head master resumed his office after recovering for a gap of seven days and immediately issued a notice barring any type cultural activity henceforward until further notice. The new teacher wasn’t seen in town after that night and was assumed to have deserted his post with all his boundless energy, cultural know how and intellectual superiority and wasn’t heard of there after. Life settled back into normal for the students and unsurprisingly Kuldeep also didn’t turn up for school after that night.

The effigy of Ravan had by then burnt, dimmed and almost faded out. The crowd of the Ramlila ground had started to clear out. The skeleton of Ravan was still left with a few of its ten heads. On each one I could visualize that theatrical laughter of Kuldeep, his last laugh in school. I was fortunate enough to avoid him that day; I was supposed to play Laxman. Rajnish wasn’t that lucky, he played Hanuman and he still nurses a broken molar, his reminder of that day.