The Great Downpour

Chapter VIII

PART TWO

THE DRAMA





Chapter VIII

Day Zero


July 29th was a mist-covered morning in Jabalpur. It had rained in the night and the roads were wet. The temperature was in the 20’s, and humidity was nearly 65%, causing the students to fidget where they stood in the courtyard and around the buses that had gathered to take them to the Picnic. The town clock could be heard striking six times. One of the earliest birds to arrive was Bhairavi who stayed the farthest from the College and had started as early as 5 a.m. with her father, who had come to drop her on his Bajaj Scooter. Presently, the students all began to come in. By 7:30, the clouds had moved on and a weak sun peeked out from behind the few lingering cumular clusters.

Yash arrived as usual in his Terracan, bringing with him some more of his friends who stayed near his place. He wore a light yellow Hawaiian shirt and Bermudas. On his back, he carried a back-pack that had, along with the requested fruit-knife and his Canon Handy-Cam, also a satellite phone, a small satellite-dish and other odds and ends. After getting down, he opened the side and rear doors to allow the others to get down; finally, he pushed his hand below the side seats and extracted two cartons containing oranges specially brought in from Nagpur.

Muhammad and Rati were standing a little distance off, and came up to help Yash unload the boxes.

“Good morning, Yash!”

“Hi, Rati! Hi, Mummy!” Yash returned the greetings in his own, casual way.

“So how are you guys?” It was Chand, who had just arrived in a yellow and brown rain-suit.

“Hey, Chand, what’s with the rain-suit?”

“Hey Mummy,” replied Chand, “you never know … it might just start raining …”

“Of course, he is right! I hope all of you remembered to at least pack some protective gear against rain. I think we might have a good deal of rain in Pench.” This came from a middle-aged, thin and sprightly gentleman who was actually Ram Narain Trivedi, their second-year European History Teacher from the Arts Faculty.

The students, who had been nonchalant up till now, suddenly clammed up for a little while when they realized that their teacher was amidst them, but the latter soon moved away from the group to join (and worry) another group of students.

“Thank God he’s gone!” exclaimed Bhairavi as she took Rati by the hand and led her to the water-fountain to have water.

“What is it, Bhairu?” Rati was a bit surprised at being led away thus from the group to a lonely spot in the darkness of early morning. She liked to be near warmth and among friends.

“I brought you here to tell you a secret.”

“What secret?”

Bhairavi looked around to confirm that no one was looking in on them and no one was listening either. In hushed, conspiratorial tones, she told Rati that between them, she and Nazima had brought a 5-liter can of what looked like fresh pineapple juice, but was just coloured water, to which they had added crushed pills of a well-known local laxative.

“Just wait till the guys have finished playing whatever it is they want to play. Then, when they approach me for relief in the form of this “drink”, I’ll give it to them a bit reluctantly … when the boys are denied something, they’ll try doubly to get the drink … and then we, the girls will have some clean fun!”

Rati was forced to admit that the plan had promise written all over it. She asked Bhairavi to be a bit careful as she was not too happy about the idea of a half-a-dozen virile men running with their pants down in the wilderness!

When Sandesh arrived, the group naturally gravitated towards him as he was their uncrowned “leader”.

“Hey Sandy, how are you today?”

“Oh, fine …Naaz!”

“Did you remember to bring the things you had promised to get?”

“Oh, well, I did get the Cricket kit and the first-aid box, but I am afraid I couldn’t arrange the water-can,” said Sandesh sheepishly.

“Hey, don’t fret yaar! I have arranged for a large can already … look, here it comes!” said Yash as he pointed to where two College attendants were carrying a jerry-can full of water and approaching the group.

Presently, Farhad too arrived, bringing with him the much awaited carton with lunch packets for the entire group. Unfortunately, George could not make it. He called up on Sandesh’s mobile to inform that there had been a death in his family, and he was needed there. Sandesh mouthed his regrets and put down the phone.

“George isn’t coming,” he informed everyone who were within earshot and no one in particular. When asked, he told Farhad and Yash (who had heard him) the reason for George’s absence.

“That is probably why no one answered the phone at his home yesterday night,” informed Farhad. He had apparently tried to contact George to seek his assistance in packing the food packets. There had been no reply on the mobile phone either. Finally, Farhad had called up Muhammad, who had gone to the former’s place and extended the help needed.

Most of the Picnickers had arrived by 7:45, and it was time for the Principal, who was unusually attired in Cargoes and a blue, half-sleeved T-shirt with the name of the College emblazoned on it, to instruct the teachers to organize the embarkation of the students into the specially ordered buses.

Ten buses stood in the front of the courtyard. Their drivers and assistants either sat within the buses or were loitering about the courtyard, stretching themselves for the long ride ahead of them. When Riyazuddin Siddiqui, the Chemistry Laboratory Assistant sounded the whistle, the drivers and assistants clambered on to their vehicles and the students started to proceed towards the buses.

As the students were getting in, there was a flash of lightning followed by a massive thunderclap. It set the tone for the Picnic. Rain began in earnest, causing the tail-enders to open up their umbrellas and to start wearing their rain-coats. The staff members, who included the Principal, some eight senior faculty members and over 25 junior members, laboratory assistants, College peons and the janitors would all sit in one bus. This bus would also be loaded with large vessels containing food items, boxes of milk-powder tins, boxes of bags containing sugar and tea, various items of crockery and cutlery for the staff, first-aid boxes and personal effects and baggage of the staff members. It was the last bus to finish “loading”.

Just before boarding the staff bus, the Teacher called up a certain number.

All that was said was, “We’re on our way.”

By eight o’clock in the morning on the 29th July of the year 20--, the St. Aloysius Picnic to Pench National Park was on its way.

***

The man in the chair signed off the call by saying, “Okay then, keep me posted.” He put the telephone receiver down and looked at the uniformed policeman saluting him.

“They are expected to arrive around 10 a.m., Sir,” said Hawaldar Jitendra Pandey to the Chief Forest Officer. The office was, like most Forest Department’s offices all over the country, sparsely furnished. The furniture comprised teakwood almirahs and tables and bamboo or rattan chairs and sofas. The official table was 6’ X 4’, and covered with a glass top upon which years of dust and grime had collected. Upon it were stacked rows and rows of files, mementos of appreciation from Governmental and non-governmental agencies, a 3-D model of a map of Pench National Park and its surrounding areas, ashtrays, pen-stands and countless other objects, both useful and otherwise.

The C.F.O., Mr. Jankilal Shastri was a no-nonsense man with a booming voice and a personality to match it perfectly. He stood up from his chair and pointed his finger at Pandey.

“Are all preparations made for their comfort and sight-seeing?”

“Yes, Sir, I have kept 16 jeeps and 12 mini-buses on stand-by. The drivers and guides should be expected within an hour or so. I have instructed the guides to take them only up to the Proximate Point and show them whatever wildlife is visible. The pamphlets to be given to the students regarding the rules and regulations to be obeyed by them are also ready for distribution. I am sure that the picnickers will have no cause to worry, Sir.”

“That is good. Where are the other hawaldars? And where is Inspector Dubey?” The C.F.O. was an impatient man and brooked no delays where his reputation and image were concerned. Nearly 600-650 visitors en block – they would all go with a good feeling and narrate the experience to thousands of their relatives, friends, associates and others! If this picnic goes without a hitch, I can expect a promotion and a fat raise in my salary.

He went back to his chair and sat down, wiping some sweat off his brow.

“What about the security arrangements?” he asked Pandey.

“Sir, we will be deploying about 15-20 men for the security of the picnickers. I have intelligence that the dacoits, particularly the group led by Pahelwan Ranjit Singh, are planning some activity very soon. I just hope and pray it is not today.” The hawaldar remained silent and allowed the import of what he had just disclosed sink in into the mind of his C.F.O.

Shastri almost shot up from his chair.

“What do you mean?”

“Sir, I have unconfirmed reports that there is increased background activity in the Seoni sector of the Park. This is where the headquarters of the Pahelwan and his gang are. The milkman who delivers your home rations told me he had news that the dacoits were planning on robbery at the very least …”

“When did you hear about this? Why did you not tell me?”

“Sir, I got the news just yesterday. I tried to call you on the wireless but you did not reply. Since my news wasn’t confirmed, I decided to wait and tell you today.

“Hmm … okay, do one thing. Inform all the jeep drivers not to allow any student or any picnicker to get off the jeeps at all. The same holds true for the mini-buses. And inform the Seoni headquarters about the same. Let me know what happens.”

The hawaldar made as if to move to his radio-cabin to carry out the orders.

“Er … one last thing: which part of the Park is our friend Rising Water?” asked the C.F.O.

“I think he is in the Chhindwara sector, sir. But this was as of six days ago. I have no recent information on the movements of the beast,” replied the hawaldar cagey and cautious of displeasing the C.F.O. while he was already disturbed.

“Okay, go on and carry out your tasks while I do mine,” said Shastri dismissively. The hawaldar left.

It was now half-past nine o’clock. Shastri took out a small glass from his drawer and poured out a full measure of country liquor, his poison. He took it all in one gulp, straight, without ice, water or soda. Then he sat down to make a few calls.