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Sample Copy. Not For Distribution.

i

A Journey From

1 To 12


ii

Publishing-in-support-of,

EDUCREATION PUBLISHING

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Shubham Vihar, Mangla, Bilaspur, Chhattisgarh - 495001

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Printed in India


iii

A Journey from

1 To 12

By

Divyanshu Dhoundiyal

EDUCREATION PUBLISHING (Since 2011)

www.educreation.in


iv


v

Dedication

It’s because of my parent I was

provided with a way to walk on but

because of your knowledge and

experiences I came to know how to

walk on that path safely.

A tribute to my maternal grandpa

(late Mr. Dharmanand Dobariyal) and

paternal grandpa (late Mr. Mohan Lal

Dhoundiyal). I wish I could have spent

much, much more time with you.

W


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vii

Content List

S No. Title Page

1. First 2 Miles 3

2. Third Mile 11

3. Fourth Mile 18

4. Fifth Mile 21

5. Sixth Mile 25

6. Seventh Mile 31

7. Eighth Mile 35

8. Ninth Mile 38

9. Tenth Mile 40

10. Eleventh Mile 50

11. The Last Mile 53

W


viii


Preface

1

Preface

W I would first like to give my special thanks to my mother

and father who helped me in completing my novel and

also motivated me to do so. This is my first written text

work. I am not very fond of reading a novel, but to some

extent like making people laugh. This is nothing but my

regards to all my teachers who taught me how to live

“your life by performing your duties”. It is a way to

show love and gratitude to my parents and grandparents

and to all my family members.

This novel does not belong to “romantic

Bollywood masala” (a line from Pyaar Ka Punchnama)

but it consists of some instances that took place in my

life and in my friend’s too, but the incidents that

happened in my friend's life I have transposed them on

me. The instances which are used here are true and

realistic.

I just want to convey the feelings a child has as

he grows up from a toddler to a teenager.

I hope you will like it.

Signature of the writer

DIVYANSHU DHOUNDIYAL

W


2


First 2 Miles

3

The First 2 Miles:

The Beginning Steps

W I cannot remember the exact date when I went to my first

school. I could only remember myself as a child with a

―rotudu‖ (full of tears) face and mucus flowing all over

from my nose, a school bag on my shoulders and my

papa (father) holding my hand. My father is a strict

person regarding school and discipline, as in India are

90% of the fathers, which is a genuine thing. So was my

father. I was crying, as I wished that I did not have to go

to school. This also happens with every child. I would

almost lay down on the road and my father would

somehow manage to pull me up and try to take me to

school. It was a funny thing for the people near us, as

though a monkey was dancing to his owner's tune or

command. Somehow my father sent me to the school.

The first day in school, it looked as if I was a prisoner

and I was being taken to my cell. But in my language

also there were more problems/culprits. I stopped crying,

when my teacher gave me a car to play with. After those

days I could not remember what happened in classes and

which incidents belong to which class. So I write

incidents till my second class in this novel as a whole.

Everybody used to know me and they called me

―chhota don‖ (mini don) of our locality. I could not

remember it clearly but people tell me that I used to have

a gang that constituted of 7–8 ―gundelog‖(gangsters) of

my age of about 5–6 years with a dog as my best

weapon. I was the gang leader. At that time we used to



4

play many types of games including cricket. I would

definitely say that we had creative brains; we designed

many movies but at that time we didn‘t have a video

camera. Otherwise, we would also have been very

famous on YouTube. Here is an incident related to my

gang. One day my gang member betrayed us; so I said in

an aggressive voice ―MAYANK TUNE MUJHSE

GADDARI KARI‖ (MAYANK YOU BETRAYED

ME) and gave a command to my most faithful member

the dog, ―BHURI, JA CHOO;‖ it was a code word to tell

him to attack. Then, what a funny thing happened,

Mayank ran and behind him was ―Bhuri,‖ who was in

full throttle running behind him. Mayank ran and he fell

right into a ―nala‖ (sewer); but the dog listened to the

order. He gave him a bite right on his right bum. I could

only remember his scream.

I mentioned in the beginning that my father was

strict about me attending the school. So one day it was

raining cats and dogs and in that heavy rain, he took me

to the school. There was a big sewer line that was

opened in my pathway and which my father and I had to

jump over. As my father was an adult, he jumped and at

the other end he shouted ―CHALO KUDO‖ (jump) and I

was continuously saying that ―PAPA GHAR CHALTE

HAIN, BAARISH TEZ HAI‖ (Papa, let's go home it‘s

raining heavily), but he persisted and I had to jump. I

made an attempt and to my good luck, fell right into that

sewer and there was water overflowing due to that rain.

And that sewer turned into a water slide, though dirty

and smelly I enjoyed that slide as I was a toddler only

but instead of asking, ―DIVYU LAGI TOH NI?‖

(DIVYU, DID YOU GET HURT?), my father gave me a

slap for this incident, also as my clothes got dirty and got

torn, also as that sewer slide was not too smooth. We

both went back home from where we started our school

journey. I changed my clothes and started the trip to


First 2 Miles

5

school again and the rain was at its peak. Now this time

at that sewer on which I fell before, he first made me

jump and then he jumped later on (we again came to that

place because for going to my school it was the only

way). When we saw our school from 200 meters we

said, ―Mission accomplished,‖ and my father became

happy; but when we reached the gate, there was a

message written there: ―The school will remain closed

today due to heavy rains.‖ My father and I panicked as

we had made much effort to come to school; but I should

say it was adventurous.

Now coming back to my school life. I was not a

very bright child in my first school; so every day my

teachers used me as a target to cope up with their anger;

they thrashed me every day. They were not mentally

retarded, but to some extent I knew that I would be

thrashed for not doing my homework. But this had no

effect on me, so I never did my homework.

One incident in my school lingers in my mind. I

was told to write my name in the register. I was in

Kindergarten and I couldn‘t write. Instead of teaching

me to write my name, they said, ―Naam bhi ni likna aata

kiska baccha hai ye?, kaisa baccha hai ye?‖ (whose child

is he and which type of child is he?) and then gave one

slap right on my cheek and what I want to say that even

today also nobody is able to write my full name

correctly. Time went by quickly and I was in my second

class. I was thrashed for not doing my homework and for

my bad handwriting. When I reached my second class, I

somehow passed my exams; then an incident happened

another day for not doing my homework, but this time, I

was not beaten but my teachers planned a demotion to

my previous class and sent me there. The teachers and

the students of that class looked at me as though I had

committed some heinous crime or if I was not a student

but was a zoo animal, but I know how it felt in my heart.



6

I was living my life in a shock. But everything sorted out

when I apologized in front of my principal. My principal

was an old acquaintance of my father; so all things were

sorted out and my demotion was cancelled.

After all the punishment and these incidents, I

developed a lot of inferiority in me and didn‘t study or

have any curriculum activity. I was just fed up with the

studies. An incident linked to school curriculum was that

there was a function in my school and before 5 min of its

starting, I went to a teacher; the scenario was that of a

‗hare coming to the lion‘. I also somehow managed to

say that I wanted to sing. As being a pure Garhwali (a

community from Pauri Garhwal in Uttarakhand), I

decided to sing a Garhwali song. The teacher in a voice

that seemed he was scolding me asked, ―Abe gadhe, kya

gayega?‖ (Hey donkey, what would you sing?) and then

when he called me ‗gadha‘, then the donkey (me)

answered, ―Sir (though I wanted to thrash him), I will

sing ―pushpa chori Pauri khaal ki‖ (it was a song nicely

done on a love story of a Garhwali boy and a girl, who is

praising her). I was told to sit in my seat, and then my

name was called out and my heart started palpitating as

if my heart wanted to burst out and sing. I became very

nervous but my mind said that, ―don't worry, let‘s do it.‖

I went to the stage and rocked it. If it is moralizing so it

can be said ―Darr ke aage jeet hai,‖- dew (there is

success after fear).

I was frightened to go to school. I thought that it

is the most wicked place on the earth. I should say, so

whenever I did something or whenever I didn‘t do my

homework, I would bunk school. I would like to tell you

an incident regarding my bunking strategy, please do not

try to imitate it—once caught your life can become

living hell.

One nice morning, my granny was giving me a

nice lecture to go to school as I was making excuses for


First 2 Miles

7

not going to school as I hadn‘t done my homework but

she refused to relent. My father and my granny were the

same by nature ―strict‖, so I planned something

mischievous; I ran, took bath, got ready to go to school

or to say pretending to go to school, I got my bag ready

(which was like a bomb I was carrying and the trigger

was in the hands of my school teachers) and I went to

school. I ran and hide behind a building around 500

meters from my home which was on the way to my

school. So as I was very famous in my locality, anybody

who was passing from nearby used to say ―AREY

DIVYANSHU, IDHAR KYA KAR RHA HAI?

SCHOOL NI GAYA?‖ (Hey Divyanshu, what are you

doing here. You haven‘t gone to school today?) and I

used to get angry and say ―APNA KAAM KARO,

DUSRON KO MAT DEKHO‖ (do your work don‘t pay

attention to others); and then I sighed and said, ―YE

MARWAYENGE‖ (They will kill me). Then it was very

funny when my granny went to take me, she passed my

hideout but didn‘t see me as I somehow managed to hide

more efficiently. So when she left to go to the school, I

tip-toed and went back home. At home my father was

there sitting, which was in hell for me, my heart was

pounding, then the scolding happened when my granny

came and asked me ―Ke batek aayan chan?‖ (From

which way did you come?). I had an answer, I said, ―the

way from which you didn‘t go, so you could not see

me.‖ I thought my bad luck was over but, nah, I was

wrong. It had just started. One of the person who saw me

at the hideout came to my father and told him my

masterplan; now what could have happened you could

imagine. My father came with a stick and thrashed me.

(A meeting with my fear)

In the whole of medical treatment, I just

shivered by the name of one thing, which is known as

the medicinal injection.



8

I was frightened by it till my 10th class. In my

old school, government medical officers came to check

the health of students and they came with a vaccine, I

suppose it was hepatitis—B. I was shivering when they

were putting the syringe on the injector. As one by one

my friends were also being called and were returning

screaming and weeping loudly, it compelled me to think

of the pain that it created and I also started crying. My

heart was palpitating strongly. As I was good at play-

acting or you can say ―NAUTANKI‖ (drama), I made

my teachers believe that I am suffering from something.

When they asked me in a strict tone, ―DIVYANSHU,

WHAT HAPPENED?‖ (I sometimes thought ―ARMY

SCHOOL SE BHI ZYADA STRICT HAI YEH LOG‖)

(these people are more strict than the Army School).

But I somehow managed to make them believe

me; then my parents were called to the school. They

took me home with them. And I heaved a sigh of relief

but I was not relieved from the claws of the merciless

doctors; so as a goat to be sacrificed I was taken to the

doctors, the next day and I came to know they specially

came to inject me and 2–3 more children. The doctor

said, ―APNI PANT UTAARO‖ (REMOVE YOUR

PANT), as he was planning to give me the injection right

on my bum. I removed my pants and went to him he

prepared his syringe and made ready to attack. He came

to me and told me to lie on my stomach. I did and then

he just slid my underwear instead of applying spirit and

anesthesia, he just gave a tight slap on my bum to

provide me an anesthetic effect and then a sound came

―AIYEEE‖ (a sound that depicted pain); then he gave me

the injection but its effect was too much. After half an

hour also it felt that the syringe on the injection was at

its position where the injection had been given. I was

just thinking, ―KIS TARIKE SE INJECTION

LAGAYA, ABHI TAK BADA DARD HAI‖ (THE


First 2 Miles

9

MANNER IN WHICH HE GAVE ME INJECTION I

COULDN‘T UNDERSTAND, TILL NOW IT WAS

PAINING); my father also came to take me home and by

seeing my face he just made fun of me and said,

―DARPOK HAI‖ (YOU ARE A COWARD).

Now, a time came when my mother and father

decided to send me to another school. It was a high-

profile and a very reputed school, and I used this

sentence for my protection. I remember one day after

getting frustrated with my result, my principal called me

and (the place he always chose was the terrace of his

home; it was as if a student doesn‘t give right answer he

would push him from the terrace) asked me, ―BETA TU

PADH KYUN NI RAHA HAI?‖ (Son, why are you not

studying?) and I replied in most sincere way, ―SIR,

MAIN SCHOOL CHANGE KARNE WALA HUN,

ISLIYE‖ (Sir, I am changing the school, that‘s why). It

was the funniest answer I could give. Then I got a slap; I

took it and went to my class with my palm on my cheek.

My friends were also bored with the same story every

day.

I remembered one day my principal got to know

that I bunked school as some of my friends were pressed

to tell the truth. There was one of my friends whose

name was ―Karan,‖ who opened his mouth after getting

affected by the inquisition by the teacher. ―Karan‖ told

my teachers that I always bunked my school whenever I

did not do the homework. A scene can be imagined as

though ―Gabbar‖ of ―Sholay‖ is calling a villager in

order to torture him; so my principal also called me that

way and, as you know, his favorite place is the terrace.

―Gabbar‖ used to say ―Kitne aadmi the?‖ (How many

people were there?). He also asked me ―Kitne bachhe

the?‖ (How many children?). I replied, ―Sir, ek (one)‖.

Then he asked, ―Bunk kyun karte ho school, jaane waale

ho school se isliye?‖ (Why do you bunk? Because you



10

are going to your new school that‘s why?). I, in my full

happiness, ―Hanji, sir,‖ and it was the words which made

me feel guilty, till the time he ran towards me and gave

me a slap right on my cheek (as he was standing far from

me).

(My first school life ended and my bad luck also

but up to some extent.)

W


First 2 Miles

11

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Sample Copy. Not For Distribution. - Educreation · work. I am not very fond ... papa (father) holding my hand. ... Sample Copy. Not For Distribution. Divyanshu Dhoundiyal 4 play