The Principal

(Maj(R)Azhar Ali, Islamabad)

More than six hundred students and the faculty patiently heard the principal's invigorating speech on four days in a week. Frothing at mouth the owner/principal of the school thundered and warned western powers to desist from intrigues against Islam and Pakistan. The students and teachers stood respectfully , feeling guilty for failing to match the principal's fervor, undampened by cold wind of Dec and hot sun of June, for renaissance of Islam. If once in a while a student collapsed , it was not due to heat or cold. Feet went numb and failed to keep balance after long subjection to immobility. (The small heap of flesh and bone was not interfered with till after the end of the speech.) The students age group varied from four to sixteen , contemptuous disregard for age discrimination while preparing the minds for higher purposes. The martial overtone of the speech interspersed with feats of golden era of Islam never failed to stir Islamic teacher's very old heart. When he nodded his head vigorously, the principal always noticed it and felt licensed to indulge even more. Prior to` kindling the love of knowledge in the students' yearning hearts warming them was essential. The conspiracies hatched by the west against Muslims and lost glory of Islam were invariably the subjects.

Speech of the principal, a retired military bureaucrat, had different effect on different groups of students. First to fourth graders looked terrified not only because of threatening posture always demonstrated by the principal against Yahood and Nisara(Jews and Christians), but also because of strategically positioned physical instructors , shoots in whose hands immediately licked the boys showing symptoms of getting restless. .Peon Islam Khan, incharge public address system, being a constant victim of anti Islam forces earned sympathetic looks of fifth to eighth graders. Ninth and tenth graders were bored to death and wanted to drop dead.

The boarding school had been opened by Mr Saleem Malik with a view to catch the windfall from a large number of students seeking admission in two renowned institutions operating in the city. Shrewd businessman in him assured him that he can easily pass for an educationist in a society where education's purpose is not' to replace an empty mind with an open one' but with a conceited one. In addition he had every intention of giving a taste, however bitter, of a public school( privately run schools use word public to lure students who fail to get admission in very prestigious schools run by the government) to the students whose fathers toiling in middle east were in a hurry to turn their offshoots into gentlemen, instead of waiting for three generations stipulated period laid down by Bertrand Russell. Oil in middle east was not expected to last that long.

'I have never let my schooling interfere with my education' said Mark Twain. The principal turned individual notion into group practice. People from all over the country after failing to get their wards admitted in one of the two public schools were grateful to get them accepted by Mr Saleem Malik. He assured them that his school would provide the environments prevailing in the two institutions only if they would bear with him for sometime. Some waited for as long as a decade only to find out that their sons fell martyrs to the brand of education Mr Saleem had chosen to give credence to his sincere ignorance. If some had fits and lost their balance, local police officer,' convinced' of his commitment never let the situation get out of hand.

As the interview had not gone well, gaudily dressed, Fahd's mother and father sat on the edges of chairs ,looking anxiously at the principal and praying for favorable verdict. Cowered and puzzled Fahd sat in her mother's lap unsuccessfully trying to look away from the glib principal. When after waiting for two hours they had been ushered in the office they had found the principal scanning through some papers lying in front of him. They felt obliged to get a few moments to adjust in the opulent office. . The principal had motioned them to sit down without looking up. He had kept on assessing Fahd's test results lying on the table in hushed silence while Fahd's parents , using sign language, had done utmost to prevent Fahd from indulging in sacrilege of making a sound. When after an eternity he raised his head it was only to make them feel more ashamed.

The principal had started by chastising the parents for daring to dump the mess of a child in his education haven. The child had done poorly in the tests given to him by the vice principal). He made them thoroughly pay metaphorically first) for not having prepared their four years old for the tests devised by a team of senior professors at Cambridge University and almost eliminating every chance of his becoming Pakistani elite 'in due course of time', His feigned reluctance to admit the child in his great public school initially chilled culpable parents' spines. They felt Fahd's great career to be on the rocks. But when he ultimately condescended to bestow lineage of nobility on the family, the parents all but collapsed under the heavy boulder of gratitude. At this moment a liveried burly peon entered the office and snatched away Fahd as if from kidnappers. Fahd's wailing occasioned a broad smile on his parents faces because it seemed synonymous with birth pangs of a great career. They were told that they were not allowed to visit during a ( breaking) period of three months, for humans as species have always proved to be more stubborn than horses.

Fahd learnt to fend for himself in the boarding as he grew. He learnt to acquit ' himself well in the only toilet for sixty boys, in sixty seconds, the time allocated for each boy in the morning and compliance ensured by his fat matron entrenched in a chair just outside the toilet, holding conspicuously a stop watch in her hand. He sat every day in a class of fifty, undisturbed by the stench, an inevitable consequence of once a week bath facility. He could not understand in the beginning why his lady teacher stood very close to the open door even in freezing cold of December.

It was swimming gala week, another indispensable hurly-burly of public school ambitions. Water was filled in the pool only ten days prior to final competition so that contesters could practise. Rain-water frogs were not banished for ten days from their permanent abode and were allowed to mingle happily with their distant cousins. After two hours of participants' allocated time, it was free for all. Scores of waiting boys , including Fahd by now in grade four, rushed the pool from all four directions howling like red Indians and soon the chocolate colored water held a head in every square foot. Some who didn't want to venture far into pool, felt secure by hanging with the iron pipe, at the brink, girded round the pool to facilitate slipping out. As the room for swimming didn't exist, boys were content to remain afloat in their aquatic space and talk to one of the heads littered all around in the water till the whistle to mark the end of fun was blown.

The whistle was blown by a superannuated life guard who had been sipping tea sitting under a tree when boys wallowed in tea colored water.. Dripping boys started emerging from the pool after having fun for two hours, and proceeded to their dorms after changing their trunks with their clothes in the adjacent bath rooms . After giving a cursory look to the pool and scanning few bath rooms casually the life guard slouched away. What he completely missed was a pair of clothes and slippers of an nine year old in one of the bath rooms only to be spotted by a boy who had come back to look for his missing pen.

According to post mortem report, Fahd had hit the pipe, with the crown of his head while trying to emerge from water. After taking a lusty plunge along with so many others he had aimed to surface as close to the pipe as possible . His desire was to splash water with his feet while holding the pipe with both the hands, to simulate swimming. Losing consciousness he sank in the murky water in the proximity, but hidden from the view, of the dozens of boys reveling all around him. His body lay on the floor in watery grave for more than two hours while his class-mates , oblivious of great loss, continued to have fun only a few feet above him.

Three days after, the principal addressed the assembly, keeping on his side the specters of Fahd's parents in an unsuccessful and desperate effort to sound earnestly mourning. He eulogized Fahd as a model student. How bravely he endured canning when once brought to him (on the charge of spreading news of discovering cockroaches in the food), silently shedding tears but never whining. He had been such an obedient student and prospective soldier of Islam. At this moment he broke down. Carefully bending over the mike, he wept bitterly , before stone faced audience. It took principal some time to overcome his sniveling, ludicrously enhanced by the loud-speaker. Islam Khan never failed to dump a tissue paper on his hand whenever he stretched his hand in his direction without having to look at him. He pledged again that he and his boys will continue to offer sacrifices but will not leave the path leading to recover the lost glory of Islam. Fahd's sacrifice would not go waste. Enemies of Islam and Pakistan were destined to fail so long as mothers will keep giving birth to sons like Fahd. His martyrdom will keep on inspiring even the future generations of students. He named the dining hall after Fahd. Announcing free elementary education for Fahd's younger brother, standing on the stage in school uniform, when the principal looked at him, he further shrank from him. Looking confused and holding his mother's frock tightly, he had already been eyeing him suspiciously.

Maj(R)Azhar Ali
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