The Green Room & Devi Collection Read online

  Five minutes were left. Chances of winning seemed bleak for E.D. In a fresh wave of attacks, Rohan received the ball and took it along the left line, making full use of his speed to outrun L.P’s defence and passed it to the right wing, which had come inside the penalty area. L.P’s backs had come running and tried to deflect the ball in mid-air. But the pass was perfectly manoeuvred. The right wing kicked the ball inside. A back projected himself in between, and the ball hit his hand.

  There was a great deal of hooting from the spectators as the referee blew a whistle. A penalty! More students and even Junior School teachers, who taught Class III to Class V students, were watching the crucial moments of the match. Rohan knelt on the field as the right wing, Gurpreet Singh, who was also E.D. football captain, tapped his boots on the ground. The goal-keeper hopped at the centre of the goal. Ayush, who played as the centre back, was sitting in the middle of the field. Rohan’s eyes fell on the balcony again. A mist was falling over the Field, making it difficult to make out the faces. The goal-keeper came forward and took his position. Rohan would have been more at ease had not the L.P. goal-keeper been awarded the best goal-keeper in the football tournament the previous year. Rohan looked up again. Manav had joined Nisha. But there was no sign of her. He scanned the other students standing along the balcony railing. No one was interested in their scripts now; all eyes were glued to the Field.

  There was a yelp as the goal-keeper dived. The football changed its trajectory and spun out of his reach. Singh let out a roar and jumped into the air. He had scored. The team patted him and ran back to take positions. Minutes later, a whistle indicated the end of the match. It was a draw.

  Rohan quickly went to the Auditorium hoping to catch up with the leftover part of the audition. He opened the door and stepped onto the aisle. There was no one in the hall. Rows and rows of green chairs spread out on either side. The walls were covered with brown boards displaying the names of past Head-Boys and Head-Girls and recipients of various awards. An old piano sat in a corner in front of the stage. He had missed it. But just as he was about to leave, he heard some voices in the Green Room, which was a suite of three small rooms beneath the stage. The first room was the waiting room with a changing room to its left and a make-up room to its right. Adjacent to the make-up room was a small toilet and a door that opened at the top of a spiral staircase which ran down to an alley at the edge of a forest, connecting the Basketball Court and the Field.

  Climbing down the stairs to the Green Room, Rohan saw a young woman, probably in mid-twenties, in black sweater and tight blue jeans in the middle of a narrow corridor. She was looking at him, her eyes heavy with kohl, her hair sparsely highlighted. Mrs. Sharma, a respectfully fat lady with round face, small eyes and burgundy hair, was standing at the door to the waiting room.

  “And here is…” Mrs. Sharma raised her hand as soon as he came in view. And then, he spotted a girl behind her. She was in a grey skirt and green blazer with the words ‘HOUSE CAPTAIN’ embroidered on her badge in golden. She was leaning against a wall, her dark and silky hair carefully tied back, her sparking eyes casually looking at him. His heart skipped a beat and his legs… a step. She swirled by… He heard someone gasp. A sudden pain shot through his chest; and the next moment he was breathing in dirt on the floor.

  “Oh boy! Oh boy!” Mrs. Sharma came forward. “Watch your step!”

  Rohan jumped to his feet, and almost bumped into her. With his face burning, he passed her an embarrassed smile. He felt idiotic, covered in dirt from head to toe. He looked back at the staircase as if it had deliberately pushed him.

  “As I was saying…” Mrs. Sharma turned to the young woman. “And here is Rohan Agarwal. He will be assisting you with this play.”

  Rohan gave another smile, trying not to look at the girl behind her.

  “And she is Miss Anjali Kapoor, your new director.”

  “Hello, Rohan!” Anjali Kapoor held out a hand.

  “Hello…” he said midway rubbing dirt off his knees.

  “Manners… Mr. Agarwal!” Mrs. Sharma cut in.

  “Oh sorry! Good evening… err… Anj…”

  “…Ma’am,” Mrs. Sharma put in.

  “Poor baby!” Anjali chuckled and put a hand over her mouth. “Never mind! You can call me Anjali!”

  Rohan threw a glance at the girl leaning against the wall. Chandni Joshi was giggling and how he wanted to curl up and die!

  “So,” Mrs. Sharma continued, “if you will excuse me, I will leave you to our students.” She shook hands with Anjali and made for the stairs. “And you, Rohan, select two assistants. And be here on time tomorrow!”

  “I had a match,” Rohan defended, but she was gone.

  Anjali went inside the waiting room. Manav was sitting on the floor with Nisha. They stood up the moment she entered. The room was damp and cold. Heaps of old costumes and props lay scattered on the floor. “What’s with all these costumes? Will they just lie here?” Anjali asked.

  “No,” Manav replied immediately. He was slightly taller than Rohan and bulkier. He was wearing his yellow house T-shirt. His hair was neatly combed back. “Rohan will have them removed.”

  Rohan glared at him, but he was right. These were the leftovers of the previous play and as the manager, he would have to get the Green Room cleaned up.

  “And this is your make-up room!” Anjali went inside and looked around. Mirrors were installed on two adjacent walls and a single old, wooden chair sat in front of them. “This place seems very old, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes it is! Our school is one-fifty-three years old.” Nisha said abruptly in an unusual high pitch voice. She was in Alfred House, A.F. Her red T-shirt perfectly suited her fair skin and brownish hair. Boys had made fun of her voice when she first joined the school in class VI. It continued for weeks before they got bored and moved on to someone else. But as years passed, her voice became bold and commanding and merged flawlessly with her personality. “And you know what, people even believe that this Green Room is haunted!”

  “Haunted?” Anjali looked questioningly at her. Nisha had certainly got her attention. She dug her hands deep into her pockets, revealing an inch of her waist, and waited for Nisha to continue.

  “Well, people have seen a girl roaming around in the Auditorium.”

  Chandni took off her hair-band and put it on her wrist. Then folding her arms and leaning against a wall, she looked at Nisha with pity. Rohan smiled, and their eyes met. She smiled back, welcoming him to mock Nisha with her. It was the closest interaction he ever had with her.

  “She wears an old uniform,” Nisha continued, “pale white face, dark shadows around her eyes. She is often seen sitting on this very chair. And it is said that the chair is always found in front of the mirror no matter where you leave it.”

  Rohan looked at the chair. It was indeed in front of the mirror.

  “And do you believe in these stories?” Anjali was observing her.

  “I don’t know!” Nisha shrugged.

  “There is a story associated with every building in this school,” Chandni interrupted. “And if you believe the villagers, even these mountains are swarming with ghosts. You cannot go around spreading this nonsense.”

  “Yes,” Manav joined in. “Once a guard heard boys hooting and cheering in the Squash Court, as if a match was going on…” Manav paused and Anjali raised her perfectly dressed eyebrows, “…in the middle of a night!” He looked around, impressed with himself for coming up with such an interesting story. All he received was a momentary glare from Nisha before she turned her head away as a clear indication of ignoring him.

  “And what do you have to say about these stories?” Anjali abruptly turned to Rohan.

  “Yeah,” Rohan was completely taken unaware. His eyes immediately darted away from her exposed waist and settled on the golden highlights of her hair. “I mean… no. They are just lame stories - spiced up versions of something weird that might have happened years ago.” Rohan saw a playful loo
k on her face. She was not serious about this at all. She was completely enjoying her tour and listening to the students speak their minds. “I don’t believe in them,” he concluded.

  “Really? So you are not scared of coming here alone?” asked Nisha.

  “I have been here alone many a time!”

  “That is impressive!” said Anjali and moved closer to him, a bit too close. Rohan stepped back. “Then answer me Rohan. We will be starting night practices soon, and if I ever need to come down here, alone, and ask you to accompany me – will you?”

  What was that?

  Manav turned around to giggle while Nisha tried to figure out the correct motive behind the question. Chandni, whose eyes had shot up momentarily, began to fondly gaze at the white walls of the room. Anjali crossed her arms and watched him blush. Had she seen him stare at her waist and was making him suffer for it?

  “Even if you wake me up in the middle of a night and ask me to come, Ma’am, I will be there for you!” Rohan replied.

  Anjali laughed and patted him. She moved on to explore other rooms. Rohan saw Manav and Nisha exchange grins. They were cooking up something. “Anyone can come down here in broad daylight,” Nisha said flatly.

  Rohan looked at Manav for explanation. He simply shrugged and looked away. “So?” he asked.

  “If you really don’t believe in these stories, what about coming here at night. Tonight, what say?”

  “I would rather spend my night sleeping.” Rohan turned to follow Anjali.

  “How about this, I will leave my pullover here. You have to come here at night to get it. And I’ll remove this chair for you,” she dragged the chair out of the room. “See for yourself where you find it. You hand back my pullover tomorrow, and I will treat you in the Canteen.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Why? What happened? Scared?

  “You are asking me to come all the way down here at night?”

  “Yes, I am. That shouldn’t be a big deal, you guys have had many…” she broke off and bit her lips as Rohan glanced at Anjali in the changing room. She seemed completely unaware of their conversation.

  Rohan thought about it. Coming all the way down from his dormitory was extremely crafty. He would surely be expelled if caught in the act – hammered first, then expelled. He felt Chandni’s eyes on him. He turned. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before she started fiddling with her finger-nails, completely uninterested in his reply.

  “Fine then, I accept your dare!”

  *

  It was 2:00 AM when Rohan peeped through a window. Stars twinkled in a moonless sky and the lamp-posts in the deserted front quadrangle cast yellow spheres of light. He put on a gown and went downstairs. The warden’s door was locked. He remembered that he was out of town. He had a sudden urge to go back and ask Ayush to come along, but then, he thought better of it. He paused at the foot of the staircase and listened. No sound. He let out a cough. Still nothing. Assuming that the guards were asleep, he headed for the door to the quadrangle and at once, cold air hit his face, and what he saw before him made him take a step back.

  A dense mist hung in the quadrangle. It had not taken more than five minutes to come down from his dormitory. The fact that the mist had come down so quickly startled him. Tiny droplets of water began to form on his eye-lashes. He wiped them and stepped outside. The stars had vanished completely and the mist had acquired a yellow tinge from the lamp-posts. Burying his hands deep into his pockets, he ran down a small flight of steps at one side of the quadrangle. The steps led to one end of a shaded path that ran all the way down to the Junior School. Small, yellow spheres hung above him, going down with the path and becoming fainter till they mingled into one.

  The mist now seemed welcoming to Rohan. He could easily have made his way to the Auditorium without being spotted. On the other hand, he would have to be extremely careful as his visibility was limited to only a few feet. Bending low and keeping to a side, he slowly made his way down the path, squinting into the mist for any sign of movement. It seemed to go on for ages. He kept looking back, only to see the ghastly mist swallow the path. Eventually, he saw the yellow spheres turn left to the Junior School dormitory and straight ahead was a white light emanating from the Infirmary. He left the shaded path. The mist began to lighten. Further down, a lamp-post was hovering at the edge of a vast void of darkness. The massive figure of the Auditorium began to loom on his left, its flood-light washing the entire courtyard of the Junior School in an arid shade of yellow.

  He quickly scanned the area. Nothing moved, and he broke into a run. He turned left on the porch and headed for the balcony overlooking the Field, which was now merely a gaping darkness. Wiping water droplets off his hair, he made his way through scattered tables and benches, while the mist swirled in the nasty darkness that brooded in this part of the school. He was getting nervous. Every now and then a strange figure would appear out of the mist, and every now and then he heard a sound that reminded he was not alone. It was only when he reached the door that he realised that he had forgotten to keep it open from inside earlier that day. He stood stoned in front of the door for a few moments. First came pity.

  Really! All this for nothing!

  Then came anger, and without intending, he punched the door. It sounded like an explosion in the night. Alarmed, he turned to leave; but then, there was a distinct thud as a heavy iron bolt fell from its hold.

  The door creaked open.

  Beaming at his luck, Rohan stepped inside and at once was bathed in eerie darkness. He closed the door behind him and after fumbling along a wall, switched on the lights. The brightness startled him for a moment and then came the green chairs. Rows and rows of empty chairs ran away from him, disappearing into the darkness on the other side of the hall. And once invisible, they whispered, for he almost heard them. Right in front of him was a board with the names of martyrs of the World Wars. The portraits of long gone principals sneered at him. He looked away from them and tried to focus on his plan. Coming down to the Auditorium was the trickiest part. But that was done. He might have made a bit of noise breaking in, but he did not expect it would have alerted the guards. He was sure Nisha must have put the chair back in the room to make her point. All he had to do now was retrieve the pullover from the Green Room. He made for the stage, and his eyes fell on the ancient piano half hidden in darkness. And all of a sudden, he felt fear. There was something lingering there, something he couldn’t see, or hear, but he felt it. Some sort of heaviness hung there; a shadow that no light could kill. It was as if the piano was calling him. He wanted to get away. But all he did was stand there at look at it.

  What are you doing!

  He shook his head, almost surprised that he had been staring at the piano. He climbed on the stage and after a bit of struggle, found the opening in the thick green curtains. He flung them apart and stepped through. No sooner had he taken a step ahead than the curtains fell back and he was swallowed in a faint greenish light. Carefully, he made his way to the right side of the stage where a wooden staircase went down to the Green Room. It was more than ancient and groaned with every step he took. A red light came from below. Soon, he was in the corridor beneath the stage. On the other end he could see another staircase going up. A red bulb glowed in the centre. As he walked towards the waiting room, he heard distant voices. He felt his face go warm. He held his breath and listened. It appeared as if two guards were in the middle of a hilarious joke. Still thinking how he could hear them two storeys above in a packed room, he switched on a light and that very instant, the voices died.

  What… the… hell!

  It was an open window. He could see nothing but swirling mist beyond, but the guards must have noticed the light. Rohan knew that the moment they saw the light, they would be on their heels… running away from the Auditorium. The chances of the dead coming out of a grave were far too high than that of a student coming out of his bed. But they might return with others. He looked around the room.
It had nothing except the old props and costumes. He went to the make-up room. As expected, the chair was in front of the mirror. But there was no pullover. He searched the toilets and returned to the make-up room. For inexplicable reasons, he paused to examine the chair; and the story came floating in his mind… the chair is always found in front of the mirror no matter where you leave it…

  “Really?” Rohan asked the chair, his voice louder than he had intended. “Always in front of the mirror?” This was what he had set out to prove. It was just a stupid story. He imagined a girl sitting on it. He found it hilarious to some extent. A girl sitting all alone in the dark… The pullover came back to his mind, and he moved away, kicking the chair as he did. It toppled over to a side. “Sorry, ma’am!”

  He went to the last room and switched on a light. The floor was carpeted and scattered with old, dirty costumes; and in a far corner, he noticed a navy-blue pullover. ‘110’ was scribbled on its tag. It was hers. He had found it. All he had to do now was run back to the dormitory and sleep for what was left of the night. He felt sudden excitement. He was exultant. He was restless. He wanted to go back and let everyone know what he had just done and above all, let Chandni know. He couldn’t wait for the audition; wait to see the look on her face when she found out!

  He picked up the pullover beaming with pride and turned to leave. And then, something pulled at his leg. He fell forward with a crash, his heart in his mouth. He looked up just in time to see one of his slippers hit a wall and drop. Frantic, he rose to his knees and looked around. Apparently, his left foot had been caught in loose strands of the carpet and his fall had turned it over almost half way across the room. He stood up, coughed once, sneezed twice, retrieved his slipper and kicked the carpet back to place.

  It was then he saw it.

  It was an earring. It lay hidden in dust, till the carpet blew away most of it as it fell back to place. Rohan picked it up. It was star shaped, intricately designed, studded with white stones. He rubbed it against his gown and the stones sparkled. He turned it around. It was probably made of silver. The pin was broken. He tossed it between his hands, then put it in his pocket and headed back for the stairs, his mind working out the best strategy to get back to his bed.