Story of a missing net

Meaninglessly bounded on one side, by steel nets, as the other remained open; the tennis court was an exclusive domain of the ‘Staff’. During games hour in the evening, as we ran after skinless footballs and at times played football with volley balls, some class VIth students would be seen, standing behind that meaningless net. Through which the tennis ball would inevitably pass and the boy would run to fetch it.

Come 2000, and we have reached XIth standard, a time for some revenges and some mischief. I personally did not have any attachments with tennis, and fortunately I never had to stand behind those nets during my VIth standard. The only remote attachment was probably the fact that Martina Hingis was a rave those days. I liked her, but there were already settlements underway between ‘tennis fans’ about who deserved her more. So from the point where I stood, she stood ‘booked’ for me. One such Hingis’ lover was Bhaskar Pegu, now a doctor. I hope he comes up with some effective treatment to undo Hingis’ rate of balding.

Morning classes were always one of excitement, as the crimes of the previous night got revealed, at times by the victims (mostly the teachers) and mostly through the horse’s mouth (us).
Today’s story is about one such mediocre tennis fan like me, who liked Martina Hingis and that’s where the world of tennis began and ended for him. But when mischief was concerned, SSGians hardly ever hunted for justifications, coz it was too easy to find one. In his case, he probably found one, in the VIth students standing behind the nets, deprived of playing with his friends – the only source of entertainment during those days. (Apart from occasional screening of movies, about which, we can talk at another time).

Another night in SSG, and there were no events pipelined for the next day, apart from regular activities. So, Mr. G hand picked a few trustworthy mates and briefed them about his plans, partially. So they donned their camouflage fatigues and carefully removed the iron railing from the wooden frame of the window, and stepped out into the dark one after another – four in total. They moved silently, in a slightly bent posture, towards the tennis court.

The calm breeze fluttered the tennis net that cut the court into two exact halves. The net looked quite different from such proximity; its holes were too large and G wondered how it managed to stop the green ball without fail. Two of them started to remove the net from the poles as two stood on two ends, guarding for unwanted visitors. They bundled up the net, and one asked G, ‘where do we drop it?’.

Background: Houses (hostels) matter a lot in Sainik School. And one is always fiercely loyal to one’s House, and interestingly all of us were good friends, across houses on individual basis, barring a few exceptions. G and all his mates were from Lohit house and they had rivalries with Chilarai House.

So when one of them asked G, ‘where do we drop it?’. G scratched his head and raised his gaze which landed on the house nearest to it – it was Chilarai House! A glint appeared on his eyes, as he was hit by the idea, ‘Ek goli, do shikar’. They dumped the net behind Chilarai House and reached Lohit House and tapped the window, and a sleepy junior hurriedly took out the rod from the frame.

Next Day: Unlike most other ‘nocturnal crimes’, this wasn’t immediately revealed during the class the next day. The gang curiously realized that no one seemed to be noticing the absence of the net, as they walked past it, neither the teachers and nor the students. As the sun ascended and slowly started descending to the western horizon, students hurried towards their respective play grounds, the group maintained an observant eye on the tennis court. Teachers started arriving and they stood there, where the net used to stand. Unwilling to miss out on the fun, two of the gang members moved closer to eavesdrop on the conversation.

One of the teachers spoke… ‘it was right here, when we left yesterday. Who can it be’

Another teacher: ‘Some villager must have stolen it, probably to use it as fishing net’.

The rest of the teachers nodded in unison agreeing with the theory being put forward.

The gang celebrated their achievement under the small hutment canteen over some flour smelling gulab jamuns and cigarettes. G wondered, how the teachers could not know that the holes were too large for the net to be used as fishing net. How could they not suspect the hand of the students and launch a search for the net within the campus and then find it behind Chilarai House. What happened next, I don’t know. Perhaps its still lying there, half buried in earth and covered by the wild grass. Chilaraians must be knowing.