I was around a month-and-a-half into teaching full-time, and it was a Friday morning. The excitement that morning was to be provided by Praveen. With around 10 minutes left for our morning assembly, five or six of my fourth-graders excitedly ran in to apprise me of the latest happening: “Praveen azhuvaran saar, veliyila”(Praveen is crying outside). And just to make sure I understood the gravity of the situation, one of them added: “crying, crying”. Another mimed the goings-on with gusto.
I went out to the corridor. An unwilling Praveen was kicking and screaming to make his displeasure evident, while his father, who was congenitally speech-impaired, was dragging him to class. The father was carrying a tree branch with him, which he used as a cane trying to quell Praveen’s mini-rebellion. I somehow managed to separate them, convincing the father that I’d take it from there. For around five minutes, I physically had to restrain Praveen, who was bawling and trying to run back. All the while I was trying to find out the reason for his uncharacteristic tantrum, and all I got in response was a plaintive wail asking for his mother.
My class being a microcosm of our nation of stoppers-and-starers, a considerable crowd had gathered around us. I got a couple of them to take Praveen’s bag inside the class and get him some water. Gradually the sobbing stopped and he appeared to calm down. As we entered the class, I mentally patted myself on the back on a job well done, and promptly got mobbed by a few others demanding to know what had transpired. After a couple of minutes I turned casually towards Praveen, and my heart skipped a beat. He had slipped out amidst the melee!
As I recovered, I recalled the face of his little sister, and I went to Class 2. There, thankfully, a little bright-eyed, button-nosed girl, her hair in twin braids, stood up rather hesitantly when asked if anybody had a brother by name Praveen. She nodded vigorously when asked if she lived nearby and if she knew the way to her house.
So I set out for Praveen’s house, with little Priyadarshini leading the way solemnly but surely. She led me through a little lane, past overflowing stormwater drains and curious onlookers. Their home was in an austere-looking narrow building on the third floor. As we neared it she picked up speed and ran up the stairs, leaving me trailing behind. By the time I reached the dwelling, she had run in and also alerted Praveen of my presence.
Praveen was standing there staring open-mouthed at me. I was overcome with relief at seeing him again safe and sound, and was in no mood for inquiries or lectures. I simply asked him to pick up his bag and wear his slippers. He appeared to be telling himself: “This chap will not let me be in peace wherever I go. Imagine his gall, following me home!” And so, we re-entered class to a rousing reception, and Praveen got his day in the sun, doubtless narrating his side of the story, casting me as the villain.
Epilogue: Praveen is now a vastly improved reader, loves writing stories about aliens and dinosaurs and gets consistent ‘A’s in some subjects. He featured prominently in the school Annual Day play. In short, he seems to have abandoned all thoughts of running away again.
(The author is a former corporate banker, who taught full-time for two years in a Corporation of Chennai primary school as part of a fellowship programme. E-mail: krishnans3187@gmail.com)
