Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The Bark-ative Man

THE BARK-ATIVE(?) MAN
I was nervous. I knew it wouldn’t help, but my broken Hindi heavily layered with a South Indian accent was not of much help either. If only I could understand what the aayah had been screaming at me for the past few minutes. Finally, exasperated, she handed me a piece of paper and left, shaking her head and casting a deprecating look. I cursed myself for having whiled away all those Hindi classes back in my old school. Well, reading Harry Potter couldn’t exactly be called whiling away but then who knew I would end up right in the middle of a Hindi-speaking state just a year later. J.K.Rowling’s fantasy world was not going to help me one bit here. It was time to throw linguistic chauvinism out of the window and start learning the language.
I made my way through the school corridor bustling with activity, glancing expectantly at every room I passed by. It would be an understatement to say that this school was quite different from my old school. They were like the South Pole and North Pole. Of different planets. As I reached the end of the corridor, I checked the piece of paper to ensure I had reached the correct room. Yes. 7-C. My prospective classroom.
I was torn between excitement and a tingling feeling in my stomach (which I think was accounted for more by the half-cooked rotis that I had had for breakfast, each of which was the shape of a different continent, than by my nerves. This was the most “continental” food I was getting at 6 in the morning at the hotel) I was wishing my butterflies would go back to their cocoons. They seemed to be fluttering about in all their glory amidst a wave of adrenaline that was eating up my nerves as I held my breath and entered the room.
My attempts at drawing minimal attention to myself were to no avail. Who was I kidding, I was the new kid in class and was bound to feel like the Boa constrictor from Africa. Of course, minus the coolness of being able to converse in parseltongue. The affable countenances around, managed to put me at ease. This wasn’t going to be as hard as I had imagined. I walked in and took my seat at a corner, next to the window which commanded an appreciable view of the picturesque school grounds and the nothingness beyond it. I have always had a penchant for slipping into a good old daydream while admiring a beautiful day through the window. Let’s just say not many of my teachers have taken too well to this habit of mine. Not being much of a talker, I preferred the window seat lest I should be forced to strike up a conversation with people on either side.
My aversion to talking dates back to my nursery days when my teacher was lead to believe that I was dumb and my mom had to rush in and make me talk by asking me whether I wanted a laddoo. That particular triumph was rejoiced with the aforementioned delicacy stuffed into my mouth. Sometimes, when I watch animated movies or cartoons I wonder why we couldn’t be more like them, why did we, humans, feel the compelling urge to talk. And talk. And talk. Just like the fixed memory space that computer systems possess, us Homo sapiens need to have a fixed word limit. Excuse me, you there, yes you have exhausted your word limit to the extent that you have had the need to lend them from posterity and each word you utter from hereon is making one of your great-grandchildren in 2050 dumb. *Sigh*, that would be the utopian world, my personally customized happy valley. All that wishful thinking aside, in a nutshell, talking doesn’t exactly rank number one in my list of favourite hobbies.
“…..yourself?”, I snapped out of my reverie as I realised that the teacher had been asking me something and I had missed it being immersed in my musing and theories of a Utopian world. Not the perfect time for phasing out. She smiled at me and repeated her question.
“Quiet class! We have a new entrant joining us today. Yes, Can you please introduce yourself? “.
I started to reply when I heard something. A peculiar bark. Evidently someone had taken the comparison that frustrated teachers made between a class and a jungle, a little too seriously. I knew it wasn’t merely a result of my state of nerves as it was just a few moments before everyone became hysterical, much to the teacher’s chagrin. I successfully managed to muffle a laugh. The class returned to pin-drop silence following a stern look of disapproval from the teacher. I prepared my response, determined to appear confident and genial. It was imperative to make a good impression on the first day going by the much clichéd and yet veracious quote about the first impression being the best. A second bark. Everyone looked around to see who was audacious enough to repeat it. I could decipher the source of the queer noise being somewhere in close proximity. In fact, very much so. But I was quite sure none of the girls sitting near me had opened their mouths. A third attempt at introducing myself was met with a third bark of the same kind.
Wait…Why were all eyes on me? Why …..Oh for heaven’s sake, the noise was… was coming from my throat. Yes, you read that right. I was barking. My (human) vocal chords had forsaken me. Every time I parted my lips, a bark escaped my throat.
Q: What could possibly be worse than one’s vocal chords instantly switching from mode human to mode annoying, yelping canine?
A: One’s classmates jumping to the conclusion that it was a desperate attempt at humour and becoming the cynosure on the very first day.
If I had managed to stay afloat in my wave of adrenalin earlier, well, someone had just breached my duck floatie. And I was drowning. My state of frenzy was only matched by the look on the teacher’s face which conveyed that I had just made it to the cover page of her bad book. I was just waving goodbye to all the first impression plans I had had in mind when the bell rang. Sigh of relief.
The girl in front of me turned around and asked, “Hey Timmy, what’s for lunch? Pedigree?” Everyone around burst into peals of laughter. Even in this state, I couldn’t help but find the situation just a tiny bit hilarious. I let out a nervous chuckle. A yelp, rather. Is this how dogs laughed? Keeping aside all such life-altering, philosophical questions carefully stowed away in my mind palace (yes, I fancy the term and hunt for the slightest opportunity to put it to use even if completely irrelevant) I rushed out of the classroom. I had to go someplace. I couldn’t go home, the school was 14km away from home and was in the middle of nowhere. I ran to the school grounds and sat down on the porch thinking of all possible ways to get home.
If I could bark, then maybe I could understand dogs too and vice versa. I should admit, the possibility of possessing the ability to cognize the canine world did get me a little too excited. As a result, I decided to rudely interrupt a dog peacefully performing its morning ablutions on the goalpost. In order to put to test my newly acquired “abilities”, I let out a bark after staring intently at the creature for a few minutes. Unfortunately, this wasn’t Hollywood and I was most certainly not Dr.Dolittle. The dog ran away and if at all dogs had a creeped out expression, I think I saw it that day. A few teachers passing by, gave me a quizzical look. If at all my debacle in class was not going to get me thrown out, this would for sure and let’s not forget the added bonus that I had just earned, a straight ticket to the asylum. Disappointed with my futile endeavours and not wanting to attract any further attention to my recently acquired ‘skill’, I went back and sat on the porch thinking of other alternatives. I already missed the sound of my voice and badly wanted to strike a conversation. With someone of my own species, that is. I had had enough of interspecific communication. This was the first (and probably the only) time I yearned for social interaction.
A few minutes later, I saw the dog returning. Maybe, I had managed to communicate with it and it was trying to help me. It had even brought a few friends along. I smiled to myself thinking of my remarkable communication skills, albeit with a different species. I walked towards it, determined to establish a rapport with the canine coterie. As I got closer, the whole pack started running towards me. I would have appreciated their enthusiasm had they not been baring their teeth in a not-so-friendly manner. God knows how I had managed to offend an entire pack of dogs with nothing but a bark and a look. Something in their manner told me that I should probably start running for my life if I did not want to become a mid-day meal. Home delivered. So I turned back and took flight. There was something very strange about running on these school grounds, it felt like every time I took a step to run there was a barricade in front that wouldn’t let me move. They were approaching. I couldn’t move faster and yet I was I gasping for breath. There was nothing I could do. I shut my eyes and let out a scream expecting a sharp pain as they would sink their teeth in my legs.
“….hitting the wall with your knee? “
I opened my eyes to a familiar sight. My mom standing in front of the bed, engaging in her usual endeavours to wake me up. Nothing but a dream. So close.
“You don’t want to be late on the first day of school now, do you. Wake up! And didn’t any of you tie up Timmy after last night’s walk? He has been running all around the house barking! I wonder how you slept through the din. Now, start getting ready for school ……. “

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