Once again, there was a fight. This time I had done something big. And at that tender age, I was fearless. So, this is what had happened.
I was four years old or may be, three and a half. My mother, a teacher by profession, taught the first standard children and I attended the same school for play school. My play school would normally get over by lunch time, after which I would wander around my mother’s classes. I would normally sit in first standard and attend the lessons. I was happy that I was the youngest and also, a teacher’s kid!!! Only a teacher’s kid would understand the perks of being one. I would attend their board meetings and eat free samosas. Trust me, my mother never took me along, but it was the headmaster who, out of his unconditional love always had me on board. I was a chatterbox, even back then and not so surprised, everybody used to love me except my mother!!!! You can say, I was the popular kid in school.
One afternoon, like always I was sitting in first standard class whereas, my mother had to monitor second standard as their class teacher was on leave. I felt responsible. I realized my duties being a teacher’s kid. I realized being a teacher’s kid also came with certain tasks apart from eating samosas. So, a three and a half year old child decided to monitor six year old children. It may sound funny now, but only I could have done that. Teacher’s kid and headmaster’s pet.
I stood near the blackboard and instructed the class to be silent. I told them they are forced to listen to me. I shouted. I screamed. But nobody even looked at me. Everybody kept talking and screaming and making too much of noise. How could I have let that happen in my mother’s classroom? I told them repeatedly that students will be punished if they continue to talk. Once again, nobody took me seriously. I decided to teach all the kids a lesson, which they can remember throughout their lives.
Nothing much, I found a compass in the first bench. I used the needle to poke (very gently) some of the talkative children’s buttocks. Yeah, the needle was slightly thick and kids started bleeding and then there was more crying. Helpless, disappointed I stood there till my mother came back to the classroom to find four children bleeding from their buttocks. Then, the beginning of my end began.
I was holding the weapon of the crime in my hand, which my mother threw it into the pond opposite my school (she wasn’t trying to save my “buttocks” but only out of temper). I was dragged out of the school, beaten continuously and I kept screaming “I was only helping you”. Of course, the next day children’s parents visited the school and my mother literally had to bow down and apologize. Well, that evening I remember my mother pushing me in front of our regular bus saying “it is better you die” (thank god driver braked) and she specifically told the bus conductor not allow me to board the bus (thank god, he let me travel free of cost). After all the drama and heroic acts, I reached home in tears and was beaten some more only to be protected by my father (no matter what I did, he was on my team and he still is!!!).
It’s been so many years now, but I still remember the blood-clad compass!!! Just after one year of this incident, I lost my mother. If she was alive, I am sure she would have never let me carry a compass, ever!!!