In school, remember the times when you were in the class of the strictest and roughest teacher in the entire
school, who carries half a meter long and thumb finger tick stick -in most
cases it is the drill teacher - and just sits in the class doing nothing. I
was in my seventh grade and was in the middle of such a class, after
that period it’s lunch time and my tummy was already grumbling. I turned to my right and whispered in my
friend’s ears “what you have for lunch”, “Stand up you” came a grumpy call, the
whole class fell silent – so silent that I could hear my heart pounding inside
my ears- and all started looking at each other nervously not knowing for whom
the call was for.
All except one, I knew it was meant for me, so I dropped my head down and started staring at my shoes, admiring the work my mom had done on it to make it such a shining masterpiece. “You in the middle, last row”, I could feel her thick round fingers pointing right trough me, more over that I could feel over fifty pair of eyes all shifting their gaze on me with a sign of relief. I stood up; head still down-not finished with the shoes yet- “Who is our state’s Home minister?” She asked, “What did she use to make this shine so much, the shoe polish or the sponge thingy” I wondered. “Look at me when I am asking you something” a bit more anger in his voice now, suddenly a red light popped in front of my eyes and that was a warning from my brain saying that if I don’t respond to this either, its trouble.
I acknowledged the warning and looked up at him; I could see some of my friends amused by my act but he wasn’t. “Do you know the answer or not” she asked again, more of a scorn in his voice than anger now. She was sure that I don’t know the answer even before asking, then why did she asked and why do the drill teachers always ask this kind of questions – and why could she have asked something from my books instead - it’s not that I would have known the answer for that, but that could have avoided “You know how importance it is to read news paper and so and so…” advice from her. So I stood there occasionally raising my gaze up to see her facial expressions – there was none - and hoping for the inevitable to happen.
All except one, I knew it was meant for me, so I dropped my head down and started staring at my shoes, admiring the work my mom had done on it to make it such a shining masterpiece. “You in the middle, last row”, I could feel her thick round fingers pointing right trough me, more over that I could feel over fifty pair of eyes all shifting their gaze on me with a sign of relief. I stood up; head still down-not finished with the shoes yet- “Who is our state’s Home minister?” She asked, “What did she use to make this shine so much, the shoe polish or the sponge thingy” I wondered. “Look at me when I am asking you something” a bit more anger in his voice now, suddenly a red light popped in front of my eyes and that was a warning from my brain saying that if I don’t respond to this either, its trouble.
I acknowledged the warning and looked up at him; I could see some of my friends amused by my act but he wasn’t. “Do you know the answer or not” she asked again, more of a scorn in his voice than anger now. She was sure that I don’t know the answer even before asking, then why did she asked and why do the drill teachers always ask this kind of questions – and why could she have asked something from my books instead - it’s not that I would have known the answer for that, but that could have avoided “You know how importance it is to read news paper and so and so…” advice from her. So I stood there occasionally raising my gaze up to see her facial expressions – there was none - and hoping for the inevitable to happen.
