Nine one are nine, nines two
are eighteen, nine three are twenty seven….
The whole class was singing the table in chorus swinging forward and back like
Church bell pendulum in rhythm. Class five of an old middle school of village
Punj Darya on the far eastern part of the country was known for its classic
traditional way of teaching and villagers liked it.
It was hot morning of an early August with scarcely breathing in suffocated air.
Scattered pieces of clouds were floating on the sky yet the sun was pouring
heat. A small blackboard rested on the cracked wooden legless easel was set
leaned on the majestic and perhaps the oldest tree under its thick shadow. A
small chair sat along the blackboard for the teacher. An empire of the teacher.
Attendance of the class was thin; only seven students were present sprinkled in
semi circle on the naked yellow grass facing the blackboard. Many students
skipped the class as Friday was their holy day as they were told.
Peela School was named on its yellow grand building once in operative decades
earlier. Long Veranda in front of the straight line of rooms, a big open hall in
between the rooms for class’s morning assembly had reflected the traditional
structure of the schools in British era, which had lost its dignity long before.
By the passage of time it had transformed into ruin. Now its wreckage was left
with only few walls as the villagers urinate.
Far behind under the shadows of big mango tree, school teachers meeting were
going on. They had sat to discuss the country’s politics and religious issues as
usual in the morning meeting. The school had only three teachers and they used
to sit together for morning gossip before they set themselves for classes. In
fact recent legislation made by the local Assembly was the prime issue. They
were calling it new Law.
“Abdul Rehman, your class is rigorous.” Head Master grinned pointing at class
five who were still repeating the table loudly.
“Sir, I believe lesser students show sensibility.” Abdul Rehman said in
obedience. “So what did you say about new legislation the other day Assembly
passed.” Abdul Rehman had religious wits and orthodox perceptions which had lead
him to become a school teacher despite he had chance to go for civil service.
“They say new technology was misleading the children,” Head Master thoughtfully
said. “And now they have put ban on cellular phones in schools and colleges.
They think that students are not much mature and they might plunge into immoral
course. The legitimate use is strange to them until they acquire maturity.”
“That’s very correct and I think they have taken wise step to eradicate evil out
of this.” Abdul Rehman said in absolute agreement. “I have often snatched mobile
phone from my students when they use it here in classroom.”
“Yes, they must not use mobile phone while studying?” Nafees, the third teacher
said in agreement. “I do believe in serious study? Yet you can’t rule out its
necessity while they keep it in their bags. Its 21st century and communication
is hard to be pushed away back in locks, rather we should have educated them
about its use. From poverty where they lack standard nourishment to denial of
their basic rights and protection has twisted public psychology to take refuge
in the communication.”
“It’s not matter of under nourishment and their security; it’s a great nuisance
which this small piece of box contain. If you allow me I would say its Satan’s
device and a tool for deception. At least it should have not been used in
classrooms.” Abdul Rehman argued.
“What did you say, Satan’s device, tool for deception. Maybe its great disgrace
for the mankind, and what classrooms you are talking about, sir?” Nafees said in
croaked voice.
“Do you call it classrooms?” Nafees pointed on the students at the ground. “A
bunch of scared students sitting on naked grass under open sky and heat pouring
sunshine, having a few books, their muscles dreadfully drawn in lashes beating
could make no class. And then why don’t you make a law to stop beating lashes in
school by teachers.” Nafees was aggressive and assailed directly on his fellow
teacher. In fact he had conveyed his sneer to the teacher who had been infamous
for beating pupils. Abdul Rehman wanted to respond Nafees when Head Master
suddenly got up.
“Let’s get to the classes.” Head Master terminated the meeting instantly. The
teachers quietly followed him and got up from their chairs and headed towards
their classes.
“Class rise,” Shaira holding small stick in his hand growled. As class monitor
he had developed a habit of holding a stick in his hand when he is even at home.
His mother had called him out of her love ‘my monitor.’ All children holding
small table books stood up except Khalid. He was sitting far behind the
teacher’s chair taking shelter of the tree. He looked up with his blank eyes
watching Abdul Rehman entered into the circle of student and sat on his chair
staring on his pupils. He didn’t bother to stand. Shaira starred on him pointing
stick on him yet kept quiet in presence of the teacher.
“Sit down, children,” Abdul Rehman said politely. He was in charge of class
five.
“And Khalid, come to me.” To the strange of the class, teacher didn’t react on
Khalid’s misconduct. They all blinked their eyes watching their teacher and
stopped repeating table. His unusual polite voice had replaced his usual
growling vulture.
Khalid hesitantly stood up and walked toward the teacher. He was scared. The
whole class was now watching interestingly both of them as they knew that four
lashes would be awarded on the both hands of Khalid on his misconduct. Teacher
grabbed Khalid’s arm and looked in his eyes. But suddenly he looked at the far
end of the horizon where thick black wind clouds appeared so quickly that might
reach on their heads within a few seconds. The top of the trees started swinging
in the air.
Abdul Rehman quickly dismissed the class and stood up. He asked Shaira to ring
the bell for recess. Shaira ran toward the bell and students packed their books
into their bags and stood up. Now the black windy dust clouds were on their
heads and rumbled. The lightning crashed on the sky and thunder deafened their
ears and everyone imagined the cries of the doomsday. All the children had run
away for shelter. It started torrential rain everywhere. Power of wind pushed
the teacher away a few feet towards the old tree. A sound of some explosion came
into his ears. Far on the other side some ruined wall had fallen. The blackboard
swung up in the air and had lost. There were no more any school, any children or
anything. The whole plain had turned into darkroom. Complete darkness had
conquered everyplace within the human vision.
Abdul Rehman heard someone sobbing close to him with pain. It was Khalid who had
taken shelter under the old tree gripping one of its half cut branches with the
stump of the tree. And then suddenly a heavy branch had fallen on him. His legs
twisted under a huge log. He was crying with pain. Teacher tried to call someone
for help but chaos around left him with his own voice in echo. No one was here.
No one was listening.
Amid Khalid’s cries and teacher’s yelling for someone to help, Khalid with his
trembling fingers pulled a mobile phone from his pocket and gave it to the
teacher. “Sir, perhaps it may help us.”
*******
By Naeem Baig 13th Jan, 2012 [email protected] All Rights Reserved @ 2012.