Chennai Kaadhal Kadhai

Skunk was late. He had finished his cricket training session in the morning. He was allowed to come late to school on days when there was training. Today however, he was really late and had arrived during the school short break only.

(Let me make clear at the very outset that Skunk did not stink. It was just a name given to him by his friends for no particular reason. He smelt very nice in fact. No let me take that back. He smelt neutral. Quite like any other fellow really. In fact, he was quite a popular fellow in a sloppy sense. He was perfectly within his limits to sight adichify a girl and similarly, she could continue to maintain perfect respectability in society even if she admitted feeling gratified at receiving Skunk’s attentions. Hope you get the picture.)

He had come back home from training all sore and tired. He dreaded having to go to school in this state and took his time preparing, convincing himself that he could make it sufficiently in time to use his training session as an excuse. He of course did not. Give a lazy fellow any leeway and he will always overshoot.

Also, while he was feeling extremely sloth, there was something drawing him to school. Avunukku oru ponnu mela oru Kannu (he had his eyes set on a particular girl). The picture of her doe eyes, beautiful mouth and delicious voice kept drawing him like a magnet to school.

He left his cycle in the parking lot and sauntered his way to the school. The idea was to get to class without rousing suspicion. For this he would have to meet two challenges. First, give the watchman the miss. This could be easily accomplished as the watchman himself was never prone to attentiveness and would almost certainly be asleep. The other part was to give the slip to the teachers while on the way to class. He used his usual strategy of walking brazenly in the open. His belief was that people only questioned you if you acted alert. If he continued to saunter looking as if trouble was the last thing he was expecting, then no one would notice him even if he had worn the girls’ uniform. There were of course some nighthawks among the teacher community who were always on the lookout for such serial offenders. However trouble from this quarters could be easily avoided by careful path planning back to the classroom.

He made it successfully past his obstacles. He entered class just as the previous teacher left, and before the next one could enter. He laid his bag down, rewrote the record books and set himself down in his bench. No one in the class noticed, for they were too used to his antics.

The teacher entered. She was called the Daaberman, as it most aptly described her looks and temperament. She taught physics and was also the class teacher. A small, bossy, gruff voiced woman. Basically a real life example of the evil-teacher variety oft depicted in fiction. The class rose listlessly to greet her. She immediately gave her standard dialog about how we were as enthusiastic as “goatherds taking the goats out to graze.” Had the class shown any liveliness, she would have commented about “the need to maintain the decorum of the class, considering we were approaching adulthood.” Yes yes. She was a control freak only.

She started the class. Her idea of teaching was basically to take the textbook and read out passages while trying to sound as much like a Britisher as possible. She must have felt the Britishish accent was the edge she had over other competing teachers that allowed her to get into one of the city’s top schools. Occasionally, she would look up from the book to make a headcount of the people still paying attention. She would then make a wisecrack (that did not sound very wise) about how people’s attention were drawn to different things these days. No one quite knew what she meant, including herself. She must have probably thought it sounded mysterious and vaguely risque and hence would do for a wisecrack.

It was a mildly hot Chennai morning, with the Sun revealing the vibrant colours of everything around. There was a latticework of sunrays, made visible by the dust particles floating in the air, streaming in through the class windows. The school was nestled in a quiet neighbourhood and the only sounds from outside that filtered into the classroom were the chirping of birds and the neighbourhood kovil mani (temple bells). And the classroom smelt of vibhoothi, sandalwood, incense, hamam soap and other such deiveegamana things. The only possibly malefic influence on the olfactory aura of the classroom was the Daaberman’s deodorant. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with it. Just that you wouldn’t associate it with one of those deiveegamana smells. Overlooking this particular transgression, it was one of those generally perfect Chennai morning that every Chennaite loves to see.

Skunk loved the morning too. Only, he would have liked to observe it while still in bed. He was starting to feel a tad too happy and content with his life. Besides, the sonorous voice of the teacher wasn’t in any way helping.

He tried hard to keep his focus. He kept reminding himself to keep his focus, consequently losing track of what the teacher was saying. What was the teacher saying anyway? Something about the moment of intertia of spherical bodies? Wunders if the formula can be applied to Daaberman herself.. She seems spherical enough. Damn. She seems to be heading this way. If she looks up from the book and sees my eyes closed, I am screwed. Screwed is indeed the word. Open your fucking eyes you bastaaard.. “Suppose a person is twirling a spherical body tied to a string around his head, and the string is obstructed by a rod, calculate the new angular velocity of the…” What the fuck is angular velocity. Damn. I think I missed the line of reasoning here. Was she saying something about twirling her moustache? Its not that big now is it? Oh of course it is. She has been growing it for the past one month has she not? Wait. Does that mean every woman can grow a moustache? Yes, of course they do. They like their moustaches as much as men do. Namma aalu (Our girl) also has one what? What the fuck really?? Eh, this is a mini-nightmare and must end now. Open your eeyeees.. Nooow.. “..problem. Here you have two balls of non-uniform size attached at the ends of a rod. This is hurled toward..” What the fuck does she mean balls of uneven size? Has she seen any in her life? Oh yes, she has a son. That pakathu class boy, Ravi. Wait a minute.. Are his balls, misshapen? Wow that must be the story of the month. Surely there’s a catch? No fuck! I am dozing again. Open man, open…

He saw the teacher still pacing up and down the classroom. He realized by now if he even attempted to listen to another single word emanating (barked out of, rather) from her mouth (snout), he would start snoring. He thought keeping awake was infinitely better as he could at least try and act like he was listening if he was pulled up. He decided to shift focus to HER.

Skunk’s object of focus was Priya. A mallu girl who lived up to mallu reputations. She was the class babe no. 2. Babe no. 1 was a bit better. But she was stupid and also had a very high estimation of her own looks. She was the perfect material to keep all the Saettu ppls, Andhra ppls and other low intelligence Tams of the class occupied. Which was good because the competition for the babe no. 2 was lower. And babe no. 2, unlike no. 1, had some amount of brains even. She was one of those non-pretentious kinds that just went about her work and life with a measure of honesty and sincerity. The kind of girl that sets an average Chennai paiyyan’s heart ablaze with emotions. The perfect homely figure. Skunk fell for her like a brick wall on water.

He started rasichifying her. Those large, bambi eyes. And the perfect shape of the nose with its slight turn northward at the very end. The absolutely luscious and kissable lips. All of which when taken together, still looked perfectly harmonious. He got up and went over to her in the middle of the class. The whole class was gasping in awe. He grabbed hold of her face. And started kissing her right then, while going through her body feeling its fuzzy warmth. A particularly loud bark from the teacher brought him back to his seat. Damn. I was dreaming again. Let me go and tell her what I dreamt. So he got up again, went over to her seat, and asked her – “Do you know what I just dreamt?” “What?” He lifted her face up and started kissing her violently again while going through her body feeling its fuzzy warmth.. Deja vu.. No. Fuck. Dreaming once more.

He woke up again. He realized he was still staring at her. Though no one seemed to have noticed (except Abhinaya in the back, who was fuming with jealousy. If anyone had given her an acid bottle just then..). His eyes automatically dropped down to below Priya’s neckline to her boobie traps. A place brimming and bursting at its seams with Mallu goodness. It was then that he heard his teacher bark out his name angrily. It was timed almost as if to suggest that Daaberman had no problems with him seeing Priya’s face, but when it came to her private parts, D would have to put her foot (paws) firmly down. He went through the same feeling one gets when one starts descending down a rollercoaster from equilibrium at its highest point. His stomach did twists, back turns, flip flops and what not.

He, the akisht, managed to standup without losing conciousness. “Enna da avalaya sight adichitrindhe?” (“Hey you. Were you paying your obeisance to that damsel over there?”). Daaberman tried to sound British and everything, but on the inside, she was an overflowing Cooum only. “No maam. I was seeing you only.” For one second, Daaberman was fighting an urge to ask him if he meant he was sight adichifying her (Daaberman). It would be nice to know if he was indeed doing so, though she wouldn’t let him have that impression ofc. She however chose not to ask.

She decided to test him with that oldest of devices the vicious among the teaching community used. She asked him to repeat what she had just said. Gabba fumbled about a while. Maam.. Miss!.. Maam.. But our young man was quite resourceful. He started nudging his partner and friend, Senkilimuthujagaveerapandyan, with his feet. Senkilimuthujagaveerapandyan placed his finger on a particular point in the page. Gabba picked up his book and started reading from that point on, slowly at first, then faster after noting and gaining confidence from the stunned expression on the Daaberman’s face. This round of battle was clearly won by Skunk. Which was a sweet-n-sour thing. For while the joy of victory would persist forever, it was also a sign of greater trouble to come. The Daabermans of the world do not give up on their prey that easily.

She then asked him a simple question. The 2nd oldest trick in the “Guide to adakkifying and madakkifying students – by Evil Bitchaiyappan”. Skunk was lost this time. He had run out of lifelines. His only potential answer was to suggest that while he did not know the answer, he was willing to wager a majority of the other students in the class wouldn’t know the answer either. He would have been right ofc. But he shuddered to even think of the consequences. He simply said “Sorry, I don’t know.”

“Jussthe….. Busthu… Grun splush fpssss….” sputtered Daaberman. “If you want to remain in my class and/or entertain hopes of passing your exams, you’d jolly well start paying attention you moron.” “Jolly well” indeed! Some of these kezhabolts! They can really get on your nerve using all these outdated British expressions thinking it will make them sound grand and commanding. Someone needs to tell them that Britain is but an invisible little island today, and people speak english these days only because of the Yanks. In fact, they seem be giving up english in London, the only globalized place in Britain, in favor of Punjabi. Ok. The time for mulling over the Daaberman’s words had passed. He had to come up with a response himself now. He chose to go with an “I’m sorry Miss.” Simple an’ keepin it real. “Now will you apologize to Miss Priya for ogling at her and make your exit from this class?” Daaberman had regained her composure and managed to contain the Cooum inside her this time. Skunk did not fight anymore. No one, including Priya, doubted that he had ogled at her, but they were just unhappy that he had resigned himself to an admittance of fault. They were hoping for more fireworks to light up a deathly passive Monday morning. “I’m sorry Priya! I’m sorry maam.” he said and walked out. He was rather glad that he could step out of class. At least he could resume his sleep without a worry. He would of course have to call his parents over, but that would be later. For now, he passed out.

He awoke to the sound of the students greeting the teacher in unison, quite exultantly, knowing they wouldn’t have to face her thollai again until the day after. He tried apologizing to her once again but to no avail. He was made to produce his diary, and a note was written to his parents summoning them for a meeting. After this, he stepped back into the class. Priya was standing there. Her face was a mask of anger and her lips were tightly sealed. The luscious lips were hidden from view. Though she looked even better this way. He was readying to place his hands on his cheeks even before she slapped him. She then lifted herself on her toes and planted a nice, petite kiss on his cheek. Not very risque, but nevertheless loaded with promises. At this point, Senkilimuthujagaveerapandyan jerked off in orey feelings. His sad tale of trying to wash the semen from his pants without others noticing deserves a whole other post. However we will end the story here (with strains of Sundari Neeyum playing in the background), as Skunka and Priya became a couple in this remarkable Chennai Kaadhal Kadhai. Remarkable because he could never have won her over with his charm and all because of the simple fact that he did not posess any. But for the forsaken folks, God has special plans. In Skunk’s case, they came in the form of the Daaberman.