A Day of Examination
A sharp wailing resonated through the entire building of the college as she was stepping out of the Principal’s office with a sigh of relief after an apparently successful invigilation duty one afternoon. Wondering what it could be, she quickened her steps in the direction of her office from where the sound seemed to proceed from. She heard a man’s harsh voice, “Who let her in? Hey, please leave the premises of the college immediately. You are not supposed to host a pageant here. Reserve all this for a show in your own house! Leave! Go!”
Quickening her steps, she reached the scene. There, at the threshold of a classroom, a tall, slender boy, a senior student of the college, was standing facing the veranda outside and a thin woman in a cheap sari was lying prostrate at his feet wailing heartbreakingly. Two police men were standing nearby, almost speechlessly watching. The boy, in a voice made gruff with all the shame and humiliation he was experiencing at the moment, was trying to order the woman away. The more the Principal and the boy tried in their own ways to get her off the feet of the boy, the louder she wailed on. The other students, perhaps in their efforts not to make their friend feel awkward and embarrassed, kept themselves off the scene. The wailings, the angry, impatient words, the aloofness of people, the possible “serves him right” thoughts harbouring in some minds, were definitely weighing the boy down as was evident from his head that refused to lift itself up and the increasing harshness in his muffled voice.
As soon as she approached the scene, she instinctively bent down to help the wailing woman get up back on her feet. The boy stared and swallowed his words. The principal walked away, mumbling, “Troublemakers!” The woman, dazed by the unexpectedness of the situation, dragged herself up, with the harkening assistance that came her way, though still wailing. She guided the woman to the staff room and helped her sit down on her chair. The woman kept wailing with the little strength remaining in her body. She offered her some water from her water bottle. The woman looked into her eyes and tearfully tried to tell her how hard she had been working as a cook in the high school next door, preparing the government sponsored mid-day meal for the students, how, as a single parent she had been trying hard to make her son get education, how unbearable her pain is at seeing him coming for his examinations to college, from the prison, escorted by policemen.
Struggling for appropriate words to console and strengthen the woman, she managed to just rub her shoulders and offer her more water. “Try to believe that from now on, you and your son will have no more such experiences to go through. Please try not to scold him. Just stand by him as you have been till now and everything will be fine for both of you.” She felt the woman’s fingers clasping her palms. She felt the tremors running through those frail fingers desperately trying to pass on the stories of struggle their owner has gone through in the past, the fears, the pains, the hard work, the fatigue, the strain and the struggle to stay alive. Moments ticked away, they remained motionless, the woman sitting on the edge of her chair and she standing beside, The woman’s tears dried up in her eyes. Her own silent, invisible tears too were gradually drying up. The hustle of clothes around told them both that the other teachers were making their way to the examination halls. The woman loosened her hold on her hand, looked up into her eyes, and said, “I better make my way out of the campus now. “ She nodded. The woman straightened her much worn, cheap sari, wiped her face with the loose end of it she had over her left shoulder, and proceeded to the gates in her unsteady steps. She walked with her till the gates and watched her step out on to the tarmac, hot and shiny under the noon sun. The tall trees lining the boundary walls of the campus cast cooling shadows on one side of the road. The woman walked on under the shadows towards the school where in the kitchen the huge pots and pans in which she cooked mid-day meals for the children awaited her arrival for a nice scrubbing and cleaning.
“Poor woman! May God be merciful to her and her only son!” The gatekeeper whispered while closing the gates behind the woman. She walked back to her office past the room in which the boy was preparing to write his examination. He cast a silent look at her as she passed by. That very same look came for her many times as long as she remained on campus. She is not sure if she will recognize either the boy or his mother if they happen to cross her path again. Her mind often races back to moments in her past. There is nothing extraordinary about it she knows. But some of these moments overwhelm her, make her wonder how they impacted her own life, how they brought in some much sought after answers to questions her soul kept asking.
