Ber-ry Tangled

Suruchi, Hira and Ramneek at the kutcha boundary wall, looking at the ber shrubs.

The winter sun cast a pale glow over the small-town school, its expansive ground bordered by a crumbling kutcha wall. Beyond the wall, on the north side, stood a cluster of thorny ber shrubs. The golden-orange berries, ripened under the soft winter light, were a temptation no student could resist. Some berries shone bright and sweet, others tinged with green, hinted at their sourness.

For Ramneek, Hira, and Suruchi, the allure was irresistible. The three friends often peered through the barbed wire that loosely guarded the broken boundary wall. They had tried grabbing the berries before, always failing but never giving up.

Ramneek, confident and stylish, with brown wavy hair was the star of the Home Science class. Hira , quiet, spectacled, gentle, and optimistic was the class prefect. Suruchi, with her hair chopped short, was athletic and full of energy. She was the slap-on-the-back pal everyone loved.

Today, they wore their grey skirts, and grey socks tucked into the infamous ‘Gola’ shoes, the only affordable sports shoes approved by the school for students unwilling to wear conventional leather ones. Ramneek and Suruchi wore their red sweaters too. (Hira was always the last one to switch to woollens.)

It was during the sports period when Tripathi Sir, their beloved sports teacher, gathered the class for a game of kho-kho. His booming voice—always a mix of English and Hindi—was calling out instructions when the Principal’s peon appeared, waving energetically.

“Madam is calling you,” she said in an urgent whisper.

Tripathi Sir barked, “Lokesh, you’re in charge!” and strode off.

Lokesh, the tallest boy in the class and a volleyball player, grinned lazily. “I’m in charge. Do whatever you want, but stay away from trouble,” he said with nonchalance.

Most students split into groups. Some fetched a volleyball and began playing; others huddled together, basking in the weak sunlight. But Ramneek, Hira, and Suruchi had a different goal. They drifted, almost involuntarily, toward the broken boundary wall and the ber shrubs beyond.

“That’s it,” said Suruchi, her voice firm. “I’m grabbing some today.”

Before Hira or Ramneek could react, Suruchi had already swung one leg over the barbed wire and clung to the fragile kutcha wall.

“Suruchiii!” Hira chided. “No, yaar. You’ll hurt yourself, and we’ll get into trouble.”

Ramneek, rolling her eyes, folded her sweater sleeves and tied her shoulder-length hair with a rubber band. “Nothing’s going to happen. I’m doing this,” she declared, moving forward.

But before anyone could stop her, a loud “Owwwwwww-ch!” escaped Ramneek’s lips.

Suruchi, now on the other side, turned sharply, and Hira gasped in horror. Ramneek was frozen mid-climb, her left sweater sleeve and hair tie firmly entangled in the barbed wire. Her bent posture made her look like a sculpture of indecision.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Hira said quickly, her calm demeanour kicking in. “It’s nothing…”

But Ramneek’s tears betrayed her, rolling down her cheeks as she tried to hold back sobs.

Suruchi assessed the situation. “Okay, I’m going to untangle her sweater. Hira, find something to hold the wire down.”

Hira scanned the ground, her eyes landing on a stack of hockey sticks under a nearby tree. She dashed to grab one, ran back, and hooked the wire with it, pressing it down.

“Ow, ow, owww!” Ramneek wailed louder as the barbs tugged mercilessly at her sweater.

“Shhh!” Suruchi hissed, working diligently to free Ramneek’s sleeve and hair tie. Her fingers scraped against the barbs repeatedly, but she pressed on.

Just as Ramneek’s back and hair were almost free, Suruchi’s eyes widened in panic. “Gosh! T-Pat is coming!”

“T-Pat,” the students’ affectionate nickname for Tripathi Sir, was striding toward them, his pace quickening with each step.

In her haste, Hira turned to look, losing grip on the hockey stick. The wire snapped back into place.

“Aiyyoooo!” yelled Suruchi as the barbs pierced her socks and clawed into her skirt’s hem.

“Owwwwwww!” screeched Ramneek as the released wire ripped through her sweater and grazed her arm beneath the torn shirt sleeve.

Hira stood helpless, her hands frozen mid-air. “Oh my Godddd!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief.

Tripathi Sir shifted from a trot to a gallop, shouting orders as he approached. “Lokesh! Sunita! Girish! Quickly, come here!”

The entire class watched in stunned silence as the unfolding disaster became a full-blown spectacle.

“Girish, fetch Vishu Bhaiya with the wire cutters! Sunita, get the first-aid box from the sports room. Lokesh—bring the cricket gloves and pads!”

Within minutes, a rescue operation was in motion. Tripathi Sir donned the gloves and expertly held the wire while Vishu Bhaiya snipped the entangled sections. Suruchi winced as her leg was freed, and Ramneek, clutching her arm, muttered a teary, “Thank you, sir.”

Hira stood silently, looking down, ashamed yet relieved.

Tripathi Sir turned to them, his voice stern but kind. “What were you girls thinking? Do you have any idea how dangerous this could have been?”

The trio mumbled apologies, their voices barely audible.

“You’re lucky this didn’t end worse,” he continued, his tone softening. “Curiosity is fine, but recklessness is not.”

The next day, the girls were summoned to the Principal’s office, where they were reprimanded but also given a chance to explain themselves. Tripathi Sir intervened, assuring the Principal that the incident was a lesson learned and suggesting measures to prevent future mishaps.

Within a week, the broken wall was repaired, and the barbed wire reinforced. The ber shrubs, still tempting but now out of reach, remained a bittersweet reminder of the adventure gone wrong.

A week later, as the trio sat on the school grounds during lunch break, Tripathi Sir approached them with a brown paper packet.

“Here,” he said, handing it to them.

Suruchi opened the packet cautiously, and her eyes lit up. “Ber!”

Ramneek and Hira peeked inside, finding the packet filled with the delicious orange-yellow berries they had so desperately sought.

“Picked them myself,” Tripathi Sir said, a rare smile spreading across his face.

“Thought you’d enjoy them more this way.”

The girls grinned, their cheeks flushed with gratitude and embarrassment.

“Thank you, sir,” they said in unison.

As the three friends bit into the sweet and sour fruit, they couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of their escapade. The ber may have been delicious, but the lessons they had learned—about friendship, recklessness, and kindness—were far sweeter.