The young Teacher

 

It was the sports day in the school. There were signs of celebrations all around. The school had a big play ground, a 400 metre track around a football playground. for running races and athletic events. There were colourful banners at the entrance to the school,  in the shamiyana put up for the purpose and in some other places. It was considered to be a famous school, which had many facilities that I could not even dream of. There were small crowds of boys, girls and men and women of varying ages gathered around the arenas where particular sports events were being held.

There were parents of students from nursery to higher secondary classes, eagerly waiting for, or watching the events in which their children are participating. A loud speaker was blaring at certain intervals, listing the the names of winners of specific events, and calling them to the podium erected for medal ceremonies. The management, School teachers and parents were making it a memorable day.

       That day was remarkable for me in a special way. A cynic like me would always point out the mistakes, maladministration, in any ceremony. I was very sure of the ways in which Indians do injustice to others. The individual who taught me a lesson was not a teacher or principal or a man of such or other status, but a small 7 year old boy. It was around 3.00 pm. Most of the events had been completed.

          My son Rajesh, aged 7 was running a 'jute sack race' which might have been an invention of Indian school system. Small boys insert themselves into a bag of jute. The are supposed To run catching the top end of the jute bag. It is a fun to watch since it is difficult to even walk with that kind of arrangement. The distance to be covered by the contestants was 50 metres.

My wife walked my son to the starting point. I positioned myself near the finishing line. 

         The race started with the whistle. At least 10 boys were running with their legs inside the sack jute sack. As the boys struggled in their efforts to run faster than others, I noticed my son Rajesh was forging ahead. I presumed that his mother would have coached and trained him in this also, like in other academic subjects (They start using big words in class 2).

       By the time he reached the finishing line and crossed the tape, he was ahead and he was the first. I lifted him and kissed him on his cheek. By the time my wife also reached and hugged him tightly. It was her victory too. After that We three watched other events. 

       Then came the moment we were waiting for. Rajesh my son was called for the victory stand for receiving the medal. He ran to the stand and took the position on the stand. I was at a distance, for we had been already advised not to venture into sporting arena as other events were on.

       I noticed from where I was standing that there was a minor scuffle at the victory podium.  One more boy was being lifted and being placed adjacent my son on the victors stand and the boy alighted from the stand shouting at those who were trying to make him stand along with my son in the place meant for the boy who came first. This happened three times and the medal giving ceremony was delayed. I and my wife started moving towards. The boy was struggling to free himself from those who looked like his parents or grandparents. My wife told me that they were the chairman of the school and his wife. They were the boy's grandparents. I noticed the badges the had on their chests.

       When I went near, I heard the small boy shouting at his grand parents 'No, this is not right thing to do. He came first in the race and he deserved it better than me. I won't deprive him of the honour'. His english seemed foreign. Ultimately he won his argument and my son stood alone in the stand meant for winner. We were immensely happy.

        I later came to know that boy was Newin and he was the grand son of the chairman of the school. He was studying in Chicago, USA. He won my heart and taught many things to those who were ready to learn.