Ramu and Somu, the inseparable twosome, the double trouble, the terrible twins, the sultans of shenanigans, were one sweat drenched summer day, pondering about their next malicious prank to be inflicted on some poor hapless unsuspecting soul. As they sat in contemplation, their busy minds filled with all kinds of heinous thoughts and vile and obnoxious schemes, Ramu jumped up like someone who had perchance, happened to sit upon a frying pan. He had hit upon an idea, as was usually the case, Somu being the more placid character of the two, and usually, also the dimmer lightbulb. Ramu had hit upon the masterstroke of deflating the school bus tires at night, so that they would get respite if only for a day, from that juvenile prison, that Alcatraz clothed in the cloak of respectability that the term “school” bestowed upon it, where countless tender souls had suffered a fate worse than hardened criminals incarcerated on “The Rock” in the cold shark-infested waters of San Francisco bay. Their revulsion of school was absolute, unqualified and unanimous.
Somu assented to play the eternal role of the grudging accomplice, the halfhearted partner in crime, and as was usually the case, entrusted with manning the dirty jobs department, under the micromanagerial guidance of that cunning concocter of crooked crimes, Ramu.
According to Ramu’s master plan A (he had several backup plans, in chillingly professional fashion), when dusk fell upon the town, they would stealthily set out to the school yard where the school bus was parked overnight, their alibi to unsuspecting parents being that they were playing at a friend’s house, and would return a little later than usual. Ramu would watch out for trouble as Somu let the air out of both the front tires (one wasn’t enough as the bus had a spare. Two was sufficient, while three was overkill). In the dark depths of the dusk, Somu perpetrated the dastardly deed with cold and ruthless efficiency, under Ramu’s hawk eyed vigilance. They then slunk away as inaudibly as a flower opening its petals to the morning light.
They couldn’t sleep well at night, being haunted by sounds of hissing air and strong odors of rubber. To add insult to injury, just when they lapsed into deep slumber after an eternity of sleeplessness, they were rudely and insensitively jolted awake by overzealous mothers and made to bathe in frigid Arctic water (courtesy yet another of those infernal power cuts whose frequency and duration seemed to be on a monotonically increasing curve with no convergence in sight). Cursing their misfortune, the lads bolted through their daily morning motions like thoroughbred race stallions having the shit beaten out of them by merciless jockeys. In fact it was only when they stood at the bus stop, tiffin carriers in hand with neatly pressed uniforms, hair oiled like the neighbourhood Haldiram’s not-so-healthy bhajias, shoulders sagging under the weight of monstrous schoolbags, that they remembered.
Not their misdeeds from the night prior, but the fact that today was the last day to submit their science project (an idiotically inane experiment to plant a seed, water it and watch it grow into a sapling). They ended up covering the 3 miles to school in a madly frenetic dash against the clock, reaching school as drenched in sweat as stray dogs caught unawares by flash monsoon showers. They had to then suffer through the ignominy of a long, insipid and rather insulting sermon on the virtues of punctuality from the school principal, not the most inspiring of individuals on his best days.
In this manner and through bitterly painful personal experiences, the truth of the adage “As you sow, so shall you reap” came to dawn upon Ramu and Somu.