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blots of ink

a screenplay about a boy with learning disability. received gold key from the scholastic art and writing awards.

INT: DINING ROOM - NIGHT

 

Two British-Indian kids are seated at the table. Around them are pictures that display a happy Indian family of four, with a baby boy and young girl. NIHAL ARORA (11) is looking down at his hands, counting his fingers. His older sister, ALISHA (16), rubs her temples and stares at a

math textbook.

 

ALISHA

(exasperated)

Come on, Nihu. 7 by 3.

 

NIHAL

Just give me a moment!

 

ALISHA mutters to herself as NIHAL continues to count. He is silently mouthing numbers.

 

ALISHA

21! The answer is bloody 21.

 

She pushes the math book towards him.

 

ALISHA (CONT'D)

You can finish this by yourself, Nihal. I have to wake up early.

 

NIHAL

So do I! Pleaseeeee Alisha, I already told Papa I completed this assignment ages ago.

 

ALISHA

And why didn’t you?!

 

NIHAL

(defensively)

I had...stuff to do.

 

The lack of sleep has gotten to her.

 

ALISHA

Oh, like what? Your stupid stories

that you won’t even show to

anybody?

 

A beat of silence. She’s clearly said something she didn’t mean.

 

ALISHA (CONT'D)

Alright, Nihu. You win. I’ll finish this off. You head up to bed.

 

NIHAL

(looking up)

Really?

 

She nods, with a might-as-well sigh.

 

NIHAL (CONT'D)

Have I told you you’re the best sister ever?

 

ALISHA tries to hide her smile.

 

ALISHA

Okay, okay, you can bugger off now. 

 

NIHAL gets up and plants a kiss on her cheek, which she attempts to dodge. She pushes him away and he laughs. He’s about to walk away, then—

 

ALISHA (CONT'D)

Oh, and Nihu?

(soberly)

Those stories are going to continue being stupid until you share them to someone. You may not have known Mum, but I did. And she would’ve wanted you to.

 

He sucks in a deep breath and nods.

 

INT: SCHOOLYARD - ANOTHER DAY

 

NIHAL, holding an overflowing NOTEBOOK, is staring at a poster. It reads: ANNUAL POETRY AND STORYTELLING CONTEST. EVERYBODY ELIGIBLE.

 

Someone taps his shoulder. CONNOR (13), a heavyset, hard-faced boy.

 

CONNOR

Oi, Paki.

 

NIHAL

(nervously)

Are you talking to me?

 

CONNOR

(scandalized)

 Who else would I be talking to??

 

NIHAL

Well, I’m actually Indian, so. Though I might be Pakistani because my grandparents are from Punjab, and their part is modern-day Pakistan because your grandparents divided the country into two when—

 

CONNOR pushes NIHAL against the wall.

 

CONNOR

Did I ask for a geography lesson? I only came to ask you for...a favor.

 

NIHAL

A favor?

 

CONNOR

Nah, not really. More of a demand. Mrs. Hannigton said she’s going to hold me back another year unless I get my maths grade up. So you’re going to do my homework for me.

 

NIHAL squirms in his grip.

 

NIHAL

Why me???

 

CONNOR

Because you people are good at that stuff!

 

He knocks on Nihal’s head.

 

CONNOR (CONT'D)

Supercomputer brains and all that…Like Gandhi.

 

NIHAL

Gandhi was a civil rights activist.

 

CONNOR

DID I ASK FOR THE HISTORY LESSON?? Anyways, I’ve seen you get good marks on your work.

 

NIHAL

(agitated)

Because my sister does it for me!!

 

CONNOR

(mocking him)

Then tell your sister to do mine!!

 

CONNOR can see that NIHAL is not entirely convinced. He lets him go. In a flash, NIHAL’s NOTEBOOK is in CONNOR’s meaty hands.

 

NIHAL

You give that back!

​

CONNOR

Or what? You’re always writing in this thing. It’d be a shame if anyone were to...

 

He takes out a lighter. Flickers it on.

 

CONNOR (CONT'D)

...Burn it.

 

NIHAL

(panicked)

Alright, alright! You win! I’ll ask my sister to do your assignments.

Just please give it back.

 

CONNOR

Not until you give me last week’s homework. Completed. I won’t touch what’s inside if you give it to me. Understood?

 

NIHAL glares at him with fury. Then he nods. CONNOR devilishly laughs and walks away.

 

ALISHA’S BEDROOM - SAME DAY

 

ALISHA is sitting at her desk, surrounded by dozens of papers. She looks up at NIHAL’s arrival, then continues to write.

 

ALISHA

How was school today, Nihu?

 

NIHAL

It was...alright. Do you think you can help me with maths tonight?

 

ALISHA

Are you joking?

NIHAL

(fiddling with his hands)

It’ll take only ten minutes, tops.

 

She rubs her temples. Being an older sister should come with a paycheck. 

 

ALISHA

Fine, give it here.

 

She stares at the paper. Hands it back.

 

ALISHA 

(CONT'D)

We already did this last week.

 

NIHAL

I know, but---

 

ALISHA

I have the most important exam of

my life tomorrow, Nihal. LEAVE.

 

His face falls, but he nods. He stares at the paper and sighs dejectedly.

 

INT: CLASSROOM - DAY

 

MRS. HANNINGTON is handing back papers. NIHAL glances over at CONNOR, who is staring at his in shock.

 

The bell rings and NIHAL immediately gets up. CONNOR isn’t letting him get away that easy.

 

CONNOR

YOU COME BACK HERE!

 

EXT: SCHOOLYARD - DAY

 

NIHAL is practically running. CONNOR grabs his torso and slams him to the ground.

 

CONNOR

You think you’re a comedian, huh? I got my lowest marks yet.

 

NIHAL

God, I tried, OK! I really did!

 

CONNOR

LIAR! You got a full score, I checked!

 

NIHAL

(pushed over the edge)

I’VE TOLD YOU ALREADY, MY SISTER DOES MY MATHS HOMEWORK FOR ME! AND SHE COULDN’T DO YOURS! SO I DID!

 

MRS. HANNINGTON, who is walking by, stops in her tracks. She purses her lips. 

 

MRS. HANNINGTON

Nihal, would you come to my office, please?

 

NIHAL gulps. Connor is smirking wildly.

 

MRS. HANNINGTON (CONT'D)

And you can wipe that smirk off your face, Connor. You’re definitely going to be repeating

fifth year for the third time.

 

His face falls.

 

INT: CLASSROOM - DAY

 

MRS. HANNINGTON is sitting on her desk. Opposite is NIHAL and his father, TANVIR (40). He is staring at his son in utmost disappointment and anger.

 

TANVIR

...I am truly so embarrassed. I had

no idea his sister was doing his

work for him.

 

MRS. HANNINGTON

Well, his homework scores were consistently differing from his exam marks. I was going to ask you to come in soon, anyways.

 

TANVIR shakes his head.

 

TANVIR

He will not get away with this.

 

MRS. HANNINGTON

Right. Well, that’s good. But...I’ve talked to his other teachers.

His scores are quite proficient in every other

subject, especially expository language. 

 

At this, NIHAL smiles a little.

 

MRS. HANNINGTON (CONT'D)

Obviously, the cheating is unacceptable. But I don’t think Nihal only needs to be punished. I

think he needs help.

 

TANVIR

I’m sorry?

 

MRS. HANNINGTON takes off her glasses.

 

MRS. HANNINGTON

Well, Mr. Arora, I’ve taken a good, long look at Nihal’s

work this year ...He confuses 6’s for 9’s, 9’s

for 6’s, he routinely struggles with arithmetic, counts on his fingers often. I think he has dyscalculia. Of course, he’s going to have to be tested — 

 

TANVIR

He has—what?

 

MRS. HANNINGTON

Dyslexia, essentially, but for numbers.

 

TANVIR looks at NIHAL, then at MRS. HANNINGTON. 

 

TANVIR

(incredulous)

This is a very big insult.

 

MRS. HANNINGTON

I’m sorry it comes across that way, Mr. Arora. But it’s nothing to be

ashamed of. There’s a teacher, MR. LAKES, who specializes with kids who have dyscalculia, and I think Nihal would greatly benefit--

 

TANVIR stands up.

 

TANVIR

I’m sorry, but I really cannot listen to this. My son may be lazy, but he does not have a...He doesn’t. Nihal, let’s go.

 

INT: CAR - SAME DAY

NIHAL is staring out the window. TANVIR glances over at him continuously, then speaks.

 

TANVIR

(agitatedly)

How many pounds did I come to the UK with, Nihal?

 

NIHAL sighs.

NIHAL 

(monotone)

72.

 

TANVIR

...72. That’s right. 72 pounds and I made it into a life for all of

us. I was left without your mother when you were a baby. I made sure to give you all the tools

to succeed. And this is how you repay me.

 

He shakes his head, mutters to himself.

 

TANVIR (CONT'D)

She tells me my son has a math disability...My son! We’ll show her

who my son is. We’re Indians, damn it. We invented the number ZERO, for god’s sake.

(louder) 

You’re going to practice all day, everyday. No more writing little stories, do you hear me? Equations only.

 

NIHAL only stares out the window.

 

NIHAL’S BEDROOM - LATE AT NIGHT

 

NIHAL is staring at the ceiling. ALISHA cracks open the door.

 

ALISHA

Nihu!

 

He doesn’t answer. She enters, waving around tickets.

 

ALISHA (CONT'D)

Look! I got us tickets to see the contest right now! I know that jerk stole your notebook, so you can’t present, but...

 

NIHAL runs up to hug her. This time she doesn’t try to hide her smile.

 

INT: SCHOOL AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

 

NIHAL and ALISHA are standing in the back. MRS. HANNINGTON taps his shoulder.

 

MRS. HANNINGTON

I believe this belongs to you.

 

She is holding Nihal’s NOTEBOOK.

 

MRS. HANNINGTON (CONT'D)

I apprehended it from Connor, who told me it was his. Well, I took a look, and I don’t think he could write like this in a million years. Nor could anyone in this building.

(a beat, she smiles warmly)

But you can, Nihal. And I believe you can present it too.

 

INT: STAGE - NIGHT

 

NIHAL is shaking, holding his NOTEBOOK. The crowd is looking at him, waiting. He clears his throat.

 

NIHAL

(stumbling)

Numbers swirl around in his head like undefinable blots of ink.

Words do too, but they are clear.

They feel like home.

 

He makes eye contact with ALISHA, then MRS. HANNINGTON. They both smile. He takes a deep breath.

 

NIHAL (CONT'D)

 

Numbers are cobwebs, trapping him in the dark, but words—words are his light. And he conjures it so easily, so gratefully, at any time.

At the dinner table, when he looks at a photograph of a happy family that no longer exists. At school, when he endures ignorance, and at night, when all of these things come back to haunt him.

 

The crowd is starting to rouse. His confidence visibly heightens.

 

NIHAL (CONT'D)

They are home because they are a

constant. He uses them to describe

the loss of his mother---

 

NIHAL sees his father, who has just arrived. TANVIR is talking to ALISHA, angrily shaking his head, but with the mention of NIHAL’s mother, he looks up in disbelief.

 

NIHAL (CONT'D)

(swallowing)

---Whose touch he doesn’t even remember. Through words, he creates memories with her he’s never even had. Through words, he can talk

about the memories he has had. His father’s sacrifice. His sister’s

selflessness. His own self-doubt. They swirl around in his head, intelligible. They hurt. But they are a necessity.

(a beat)

Words are his home because he not only understands them --- he lives

for them.

 

Extremely loud applause.

 

INT: CAR- NIGHT

 

NIHAL is wearing a silver ribbon. Nobody is speaking. TANVIR parks the car.


 

TANVIR

Alisha, I can’t believe you made

your brother sneak out. Thank God I

have that tracker on your phone to

figure out where you went.

 

ALISHA

(rolling her eyes)

Papa, you wouldn’t have let us leave otherwise.

 

TANVIR

Just go inside. Nihal, stay.

 

ALISHA

I’m proud of you, Nihu. You write

so beautifully. Mum would’ve loved

it.

 

She hugs NIHAL and leaves. Awkward silence ensues.

 

TANVIR

(rubbing his temple, obviously struggling)

I…I. Well. I had- I had no idea numbers felt that way for you.

 

NIHAL

(awkwardly)

I can just work harder.

 

TANVIR shakes his head.

 

TANVIR

You are to get tutoring from Mr.Lakes every Monday and Wednesday.

He will help you.

(a beat)

You do write...very mature for your

age. Your mother... would’ve been

very proud of you.

 

NIHAL looks up at him, tears in his eyes. It’s the best compliment he’s ever received from his father. Maybe even the only one.

 

TANVIR (CONT'D)

You...you didn’t get first prize because of these bloody Englishmen! Scared of our power. We invented the zero, don’t you forget.

 

Nihal laughs. It’s not the best support, but it’s a start.

 

FIN

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