Babulal was the biggest bully in school. He was in grade ten, but even eleventh and twelfth-grade boys feared him. He swaggered about, pushing others aside, and sneered at them when they protested.
Every morning when Babulal arrived at school, everyone tried to keep out of his way. If anyone strayed into his path, Babulal would shove the person out of his way and snarl at them, ‘Look where you are going!’
If the offender happened to be a kid, Babulal would grab him by the scruff of the shirt and say, ‘Listen, Jerry, you aren’t stupid enough to cross Tom’s path, are you? I’ll eat you up for lunch.’ Of course, Tom and Jerry was his favorite cartoon series.
‘He’s more like Bluto, the villain in Popeye,’ muttered a student, making sure he was well out of Babulal’s earshot.
Sometimes, the little boys squealed in fear as they wriggled about in Babulal’s grasp. Arguably the most petrified of the lot was Aditya, an eighth-grader.
Aditya was a frail boy with a head too big for his body. He had these enormous eyes that looked anxiously at the world, especially when Babulal was around. Whenever Babulal bullied him, Aditya would look up with pitiful eyes, and large teardrops would slide down his cheeks silently.
This pleased Babulal to no end and he made it a point to terrorize Aditya every day. Some boys even brought this matter up with the principal. Hearing about this, Babulal pulled Aditya up and said, ‘Look here, you brat. You approach the principal once more and I’ll cut your tongue and feed it my dogs.’ Aditya trembled with fear. When the principal summoned him to confirm if Babulal indeed bullied him, he said nothing.
‘So, you made the smart decision to keep your mouth shut, eh?’ Babulal sneered at Aditya the following day. Aditya walked away quietly.
One way that Babulal loved tormenting Aditya was by grabbing his tiffin box. ‘Ha, what do we have here?’ Babulal would say. ‘Pooris! Wow! I love pooris!’ He would gobble a couple of them in the blink of an eye. Aditya looked on helplessly as he would have to go on an empty stomach through lunch. He never complained about this to anyone – not even to his mother.
One day, his mother packed him his favorite sweet, laddus.
‘Sweets, eh?’ quipped Babulal during the morning break. ‘I like sweets,’ saying so, he tossed both the laddus into his mouth.
Aditya couldn’t help crying.
‘Stop sniveling, you rat, unless you want me to eat you up, too,’ roared Babulal.
And that is how things were every day. Most of the students felt sorry for Aditya, genuinely wanting to help him. However, they were too scared of Babulal, and couldn’t do anything for poor Aditya.
♦♦♦
One day, a big idli-eating competition was announced at school. It was sponsored by a company making instant idli mix. Banners were put up everywhere, and a stall was set up for selling the idli mix. The students were visibly excited.
‘If Babulal participates, no one else stands a chance,’ remarked a student.
‘There won’t be any idlis left for anyone else,’ said another.
‘I wish someone could beat him for a change,’ added another boy.
Finally, the day of the competition was upon everyone. Students and staff personnel gathered in the assembly hall. Some parents were also present.
A large table was placed in the middle of the hall, with seats on either side for the participants. Servers from the idli-mix company waited with large vessels containing idlis. There were vessels brimming with sambhar and chutney, too.
The rules were read out. The contenders had up to fifteen minutes each. They had to eat as many idlis as they could in this time. A gong would sound at the start and finish.
The participants took their places amidst raucous cheers. The first one was, of course, Babulal. He stared arrogantly at the crowd and raised his clenched fist. There were a few jeers, which quickly subsided as Babulal turned in that direction.
Next came Shiva from X-C, Srinivas from IX-B, Isaac from VII-A, and Nasser Ahmed from IX-A. They all sat down.
Then came Aditya, looking sheepishly at the other contestants. He took a seat the corner of the table. There was a lot of sympathetic applause for Aditya.
Babulal stared at him, ‘Well, I didn’t know they were serving cheese for the mouse.’
Aditya sat quietly. He lowered his gaze.
‘You’ve heard the rules being read out,’ said the mathematics teacher doubling as the umpire. ‘Any questions?’
‘I hope you’ve got enough idlis in those vessels,’ Babulal chuckled.
‘We sure do, Babulal,’ the mathematics teacher replied. ‘Are you all ready? Alright, here we go, then!’
The gong sounded and the servers quickly placed five idlis in each plate. The competition had begun. The students were wolfing the idlis down. As soon as they finished with their initial quota, another five idlis were served.
Each student had their own peculiar technique. Shiva, for instance, gobbled all five idlis together, bathing them in sambhar and slurping down the liquid concoction.
Some of the students had no technique to begin with – they just ate the idlis as they did every day at breakfast.
For his part, Babulal squeezed each idli into a small ball, barely dipped it into the chutney, and gobbled it down. Meanwhile, Aditya had a different technique – two chews and a gulp. He had a smooth rhythm. Chew-chew-gulp!
By the time ten idlis had been consumed, Srinivas and Isaac were out of contention. They had been eating their share haphazardly. At the fifteen-idli mark, Nasser Ahmed jumped up and ran out clutching his stomach. However, Aditya soldiered on indefatigably – chomp, chomp, swallow!
When he finished his twentieth idli, Shiva raised his hand, saying ‘enough’, as he rose and tottered to the floor.
By this point, Babulal seemed ill at ease. However, Aditya showed no signs of relenting.
‘Come on, Aditya,’ the students cheered, sensing the chance of bearing witness to the unlikeliest of victories over none other than the Babulal. ‘Come on!’
Ironically, no one was rooting for Babulal. That, however, didn’t keep Babulal from devouring even more idlis. But then, he suddenly stopped eating. His eyes glazed over, he began panting heavily, and he couldn’t help resting his forehead on the table. Aditya was still going strong with his unique technique. Chomp-chomp-swallow!
‘Aditya, you win!’ exclaimed the math teacher amidst thunderous applause from the students. ‘You can stop now if you want.’
‘I think I’m going to have a few more of these, sir,’ said Aditya. Gleeful whistles, cheers, and clapping made for an electric atmosphere.
Aditya carried on. Two chews and a swallow. And he kept going till the gong sounded. Thirty-two idlis – not only had he won the competition, but even set a new record! The boys crowded around him and lifted him up high. He was paraded around the school campus on the shoulders of some of his classmates.
‘I’m not surprised,’ said one boy. ‘Jerry always wins in the end.’
‘And Bluto gets beaten by Popeye!’
‘Not by spinach, but by idlis,’ said another.
For his part, Babulal became rather subdued and mellow after that embarrassing defeat. He never bullied Aditya. Or anyone else, for that matter.
As fond of writing a good story as he is of reading one, Pravin is one of the most promising writers at Ameya. He can be contacted at pravinkumar2788@gmail.com.