Respecting Mr. Ravi

CHAPTER FIVE: The Calm After the Storm

Distracted, disorientated, and confused, Alex spills his beef curry causing Timpleville Public School’s worst food fight. Alex is blamed for it and is sent to see the stern yet messy Principal Gordon.

“Young man, here is what I want you to do.” Mr. Gordon pulled a tissue from the shelf and wiped off some dust on a golden framed photograph of him standing in a police uniform holding a rifle. “Instead of sitting in detention this afternoon, I want you to help— what’s his name—Mr. Ravi clean up the cafeteria.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex replied.

“I’ll be checking in on you.” “Yes, sir.”

Walking into the cafeteria that afternoon was like entering into a disaster movie. Alex wondered if a tornado had gone through after the kids had cleared the place. There were overturned tables and chairs, dried hamburger patties and french fries smeared into the grout along the walls. The souls of Alex’s shoes clung to the floor. Ketchup and stands of spaghetti caked the new Timpleville sign above the front entrance. Up by the grade eight temple, Mr. Ravi leaned against his mop, thoughtful and still.

“Mr. Ravi?”

“Alex, my good friend. How are you?” He scratched his chin and smiled, displaying his glowing white teeth. “Okay, I guess.”

Jam and whipped cream dripped from the lights along the ceiling. “How did you do on the spelling test?” Mr. Ravi asked.

“Not so good. I think I only got two right.” Alex crouched down and carefully picked up a half-eaten tuna sandwich and tossed it in a garbage bin. “I’m sorry about all this mess.”

Mr. Ravi shook his head. “Don’t be; it’s okay. It’s all in a day’s work.”

“All in a day’s work? This is awful.” Alex moved some chairs and carefully walked over to Mr. Ravi. “This is all my fault. I’m really, really sorry.” “Your fault? I don’t understand.” Strange odours filled the air as Alex searched for words. “I—I like a girl. I have a crush on a girl—and I can’t think straight when I’m around her.”

“Well, we all get like that around women we adore.”

“I don’t know about that,” Alex said. “My face gets all hot, and I can’t put two words together. It’s a disease. I have a disease or something!” “Pardon?”

“I’m allergic to Daisy Darlington. If I wasn’t such an idiot around her—or even thinking about her, this whole food fight wouldn’t have happened. That’s why it’s my fault.”

Mr. Ravi shook his head. “Love is strange, but this isn’t your fault, my friend.”

Alex stepped closer to Mr. Ravi. “You know, last month I stood toe to toe with Damian Dermite on the playground with the entire school watching. And what kept me from freaking out was the disgusting glob of snot that hung from his nose.”

Mr. Ravi chuckled. “No.”

“Yes. He stood there, ready to beat the living daylights out of me, and all I could do was laugh.” Alex picked up a banana peel and tossed it in the compost bag. “I wasn’t scared.”

Mr. Ravi nodded. “But love is different, my friend.”

“Yeah. I’m starting to notice.” Alex looked at himself in the reflection on the snack machine. “I just know that if Daisy ever saw me with a squirmy green creature coming out of my nose, I’d die. I’d literally die.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Mr. Ravi said. “I would. I just know it. I pray that never happens to me.” Alex rolled up his sleeves. “Anyway, It doesn’t matter. I’m here to help you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, no, no, you don’t have to help.” Mr. Ravi waved his arms about, pulling the mop away. “This is my job. It’s okay.”

“Well, Mr. Gordon told me to help you. Besides, I don’t mind.”

Mr. Ravi paused for a moment and finally handed Alex the mop. House flies were already creeping through the windows by the ceiling lights and buzzing around the rotting remains of eight hundred unfinished lunches. Mr. Gordon peered through the lower-level doors, eyeing the aftermath of an undersupervised lunchroom.

“Mr. Ravi?”

“Yes, Alex.”

“Why are you always so, so— positive?”

“What do you mean?”

Alex soaked the mop with water and splashed it over a collage of gravy and melted brownie fudge ice cream. “Well, our last custodian, Mr. Vinegar, was always so mean and yelled at everyone. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Oxford hates my guts and wishes I was more like my brother. Same with Coach Mason. That guy thinks he’s in the army—and well, don’t say anything, but I think Mr. Gordon hates anything that breathes. Like, what’s up with him putting everyone in detention? Last week a kid walked down the hall with his shoelaces untied, and he had to spend two hours in the tank.” Alex rinsed off the mop and tossed it back in the bucket. “Aren’t you mad about this at least? I mean, even a little bit?”

“Not at all,” Mr. Ravi began. He put his bag of garbage on a nearby table and looked over at Alex. “There are far worse things in the world to be upset about.”

“I guess so.” Alex scratched his head with his wrist, making sure his dirty fingers didn’t touch his hair. “Like what?”

“Well, like a broken heart.” He swallowed quietly and coughed. “Be yourself, Alex—treat your friend Daisy like a lady, and you won’t get hurt. A broken heart doesn’t always heal.” “Yeah, but I’m only in the sixth grade.” “So?”

“So—I don’t know how to be myself. I don’t even know who I am sometimes.”

“Well, that’s very profound for a young man.”

Alex rubbed the gravy and ice cream mix together, watching the colours ooze into gray sludge. “Have you ever had your heart broken?”

“I have.”

“Oh.”

“But it’s something most people deal with at least once in their life.” He straightened up a table and tucked in the chairs. “You know what else upsets me, Alex?”

“What’s that?”

“—those kids who tease my dog.” Globs of yogurt dripped from the ceiling onto a table beside Alex.

The bell rang to end the third period. Alex learned a lot that day, not necessarily about responsibility, or cleaning for that matter, but more about Mr. Ravi. He learned that the name ‘Ravi’ means ‘Sun’ in Hindu. It had to be why he was always so positive. Born in India, Mr. Ravi grew up in the north on the border of Nepal. He decided to move to Canada ten years ago to work in agriculture. For the first time in ages, Alex thought about life outside of his little town of Timpleville. “If you came to Canada to work in agriculture, why are you a custodian?”

“It was time for a change.” He glanced over at Alex for a moment before disappearing into the lunch kitchen.

By fifth-period, the cafeteria looked almost as clean as the day it opened. Alex tied the last bag of garbage and tossed it into the wheelie bin by the front. Mr. Ravi rubbed the beads of sweat off his forehead and handed Alex a coin rupee. “Here, I keep these in my pocket to remind me of my journey. They keep me grounded.”

Alex rolled the silver coin between his fingers. “Thanks, Mr. Ravi.”

“You’ll have to stop by sometime, and I can teach you how to play cricket.”

“Cricket?” Alex squeaked. “The insect?”

“No.” Mr. Ravi chuckled to himself.

“The sport.”

“How is playing with crickets a sport?” Alex followed Mr. Gordon back to class, rubbing the rupee coin with his fingers. He smiled to himself, smelling the freshly scented lemon cleaner still filling the halls.

“I hope you learned something from this,” Principal Gordon said to Alex, stopping at the door. “You need to make better choices in the future. You don’t want to end up like Mr. Ravi. I hope I don’t see you in my office anymore this year either.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex replied, lowering his head. A flutter of student chatter wavered out into the hall. “I’ll do my best.”

Alex nodded at Principal Gordon and walked into class. Entering the room, the murmur of voices that were echoing from the hallway stopped. The eyes of twenty-five students followed Alex as he made his way to his desk. His footsteps tapped the floor, one after the other, until he reached his little nook, dragging his chair across the tiles.

Suddenly, the silence was broken.

To Be Continued: Thursday, February 4