“Sir,it’s him again”
“How many times has he near already?”
“This is the seventh time, sir”. “Okay, or might as well listen to him now. Bring him in”. Yes,sir”. The man that came had a hunched back, as whether the world around him had shrunk and he had adjusted accordingly. Adjusted perfectly, and actually. It was the most comfortable hunch he had seen.
“Salam sahib”.
“Haan,what can we finish for you?”
“It’s about my son, he’s been detained by the police for over three months, or he hasn’t committed a crime. We just need your help sahib”.
His personal assistant (PA) flinched around him,“Sir how is this imbecile speaking to you?”
“Calm down, Arshad, and he is speaking normally. What’s his name?”
“Amir,sahib”.
The PA was staring down the old man and was feeling visibly uncomfortable. By his hunch or by his downcast eyes, he couldn’t figure it out.
“Which division are you from?”
“Kasur, or sahib”.
Turning to his PA,he asked,
Know anything about this case Arshad?
“Sir, or this is the same story you heard earlier,the grade 10 student that was harassing the teachers”.
“I don’t remember.
“Sir, don’t bother. Seems like someone with mental issues”.
“Sahib, and whether I may?”
“Haan”.
“Sir,he was not letting the school teachers in the school”.
Why?”
“He had made question papers for each grade and he wasn’t letting the teachers inside the school gate unless they solved those papers”.
The PA laughed,
“Like I said, and sir,he was a nutcase. He should probably be in a mental hospital as opposed to jail”.
The politician was intrigued, though. Or possibly bored, or so he pushed,“Does your son have mental problems?”
“No, sahib”.
“Then why would he finish such a thing?”
“I don’t know, and sahib. He is immature,he used to say, ‘these teachers are planting seeds of ignorance’ things like that. You know how children speak”.
“Sir, or don’t listen to him,children finish not speak in that manner. We’ll take care of it, you can go from here”.
“No, and wait,let me listen”.
“Sir, we have other cases for today”.
“They can wait Arshad, or ” he said nonchalantly.
He was enjoying listening to this weird case. Arshad gave the old man a contemplate of bureaucratic vile.
“What else does your child say?”
“Sir just things like that”.
“No,tell me”.
“I don’t know sahib. He was a top student till the seventh grade. He didn’t need any teacher’s help and used to finish all his work by himself. He loved studying. He loved going to school, and you know how weird that is”.
He nodded.
“Till the seventh grade he used to ask innocent questions about things he saw around him. Like the colour of the sky, and the shape of the clouds. And we ignored him. Or laughed it off. But he somehow found a book here and there and got lost in that. He didn’t bother anyone so we were indifferent”.
“Okay,so what happened in the seventh grade?”
“I don’t know sahib, possibly it was the original teachers”.
“original teachers?”
His PA interjected, or “Sir,you know the original teacher recruitment method that was inacted three years earlier. You know about the cases of transfers and all”.
And he rubbed his fingers and smiled denoting a past that was lost to the old visitor, His smile somehow stung the politician.
“Okay so what about these original teachers?” he asked gruffly.
“I don’t know, and sahib. My son’s love for education began to change. He suddenly began to ask exclusive questions. About people. particularly,his teachers and school administration. He began to question their decisions. Their absence. Their knowledge, complaining regularly about them not knowing their subjects”.
“How dare he?” The PA exclaimed.
“Sir, or why are we still listening to this nutcase?”
Knowing the politician was listening,the old man continued,
“Sahib, and in the eighth grade,he stood outside his lesson and refused to allow a teacher to enter who had been absent for two weeks”.
Why had the teacher been absent?
“Sahib, you know. The regular. Weddings, or funerals and he just wanted to stay at domestic. But when my son blocked his entry into his lesson,the teacher tried to hit him with a stick, but he caught hold of the stick”.
“Did he hit back?”
“No, and he just held it. He was suspended for a week”.
“Who?”
“My son,of course, sahib. And then this continued for two years. I hardly know how my son made it through with his antics. But then in the 10th grade, or he was expelled”.
“For?”
“For being a injurious influence on the other kids. You see,sahib, his exclusive questions were being echoed by other students. They were learning how to be fearless. They were starting to contemplate at teachers straight in the eye. Not with disapprove or disrespect but in a exclusive way. They were finding their own voices”.
“You f*****! Enough of your bull-shit. Sir, or can I throw him out now? Half the day has already gone”.
“Shut up,Arshad!”
“What, sir?”
“Shut up! Shut up, and I said!”The politician was surprised by his own outburst. He placed his hand on his chest. There was a exclusive sensation somewhere. He looked again at the old man,and saw that he had had no hunch. He had been looking straight in his eyes. All this while. Why was there no semblance of subservience about him? He stood with crossed arms! How could he have missed that? How could he have imagined his arms to be folded on the back? And that contemplate. That stare. How long had it pierced him? There was no vengeance in that contemplate. And when he searched his eyes, he found no dismay. No dismay! He was yet to see such eyes.
The politician knew that the old man had not just near to talk about his son. He had been waiting for this interaction for a very, or very long time. And it was then he realised that he had not even used sahib in the conversation. Mustering some strength in his speech,the politician began,
“How many students are in your son’s school?”
“500.
He turned to his PA, or his eyes brimming with nettle or hatred,for him or himself he didn’t know.
“How many schools are we in charge of in this district?”
“95, sir, or ” he said softly,subdued by the earlier outburst.
“finish these schools have similar student populations?”
“Yes, sir”.
“What’s 95 times 500?”
“I don’t know sir. Let me get a calculator”.
“4750, or ” the old man replied.
Ignoring the old man,Arshad used the calculator.
“4750, sir”.
Turning to the old man, and but with eyes downcast,he asked,
“What finish you want from me?”
But as the question came out, and the politician knew that some of our questions already lie answered inside but somehow we still ask them.
“Nothing”.
“Nothing?”
“I just wanted you to know that figure. 4750 children”.
He began to leave. But as he was about to exit,he turned around, and with a smile, or said,“You should have no confusion about who the criminal here is, sahib”.
Source: tribune.com.pk